is filled with anticipation

His Throne [JHS]

Genre: Smut, some angst, some fluff

Word Count: 4,413

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Jung Hoseok on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Hoseok, dom!Hoseok, thigh riding

Written by: Admin Jifairy

A/N: So I figured since I just turned 18, I should challenge myself and write my first smut! It kinda totally sucks, but what can ya do?  PCs to vikttoria16.

Version: Jimin | Jungkook | Namjoon | Yoongi | Seokjin | Taehyung


You’d been working for the royal family for over a decade now. You knew every nook and cranny—every secret passage and hidden room in that palace. It was practically your home. You took care of it, constantly sweeping and dusting and mopping.

You also took care of Jung Hoseok, the spoiled prince residing in it. You always cleaned his room, washed his clothes and made his meals. But then somewhere in the mess of everything, you began taking care of him in a different way.

You always had a close friendship with the prince but that’s all it was—friendship. Until one day, two years ago, he approached you. That’s when it all began, your secret relationship with the seductive prince.

No one knew about your relationship, everyone always assumed it was purely friendship. No one ever expected the handsome prince to fall for a lowly maid like yourself, which made the relationship all the more perfect, in a sense.

At least twice a week you two would meet up for discreet, eager sex, and today was one of those days.

“Come ride me,” Hoseok demanded sternly, eyes already mentally undressing you. He sat in his gold throne with his crown sitting crookedly on his head. His robe fell around him, engulfing him in a pool of black fur.

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BTS teasing you under the table

“Bts reaction to teasing you under the table and you end up moaning their name and all the other members hear it smirking at him?” - Anon

Thank you for the request!!  This is my first reaction.  I hope you enjoy! XOXO - Lace


Seokjin

As Jin used his remote to gradually turn up the vibrator he’d given to you that morning, it was becoming increasingly harder for you to keep quiet.  You usually would not worry about being quiet, but this situation was awkwardly different.  You weren’t only out to dinner, you were with the other members as well.  You decide to try and subtly ask him to stop.  That was a mistake.  When you open your mouth it just so happens to perfectly sync with him bumping up the toy to its highest setting.  Your mouth is already open so there is no way to further suppress his name falling from your lips in breathless desperation.  Earning a prideful smirk from Jin and slightly confused and horrified looks from the other members, your face becomes flushed with a colour similar to that of the marinara sauce on your meal sitting in front of you.  The members simply look at each other and then back down at their food, making a unanimous decision not to address the current situation.  You look at Jin who is very pleased with himself as he turns the toy off, satisfied with the reaction you gave him.


Yoongi

“Yoongi…” you moaned.  

You can’t hold it in anymore.  You had been craving your boyfriend all day, but he’s been busy.  He promised he would take care of you tonight.  When he made his promise, you of course were filled with excitement and anticipation.  It never once crossed your mind that he meant he would sneakily slip his hand under your dress while you were out having a delicious meal with the other boys.  His fingers, which, at this point, are fully in your panties, only getting faster as they continue to dance in circles on top of your clit.  He looks at you with surprise, which soon turns to a look of pride seeing how you could barely control yourself under his touch.  The members look up at you both, understanding what was going on by your single, whine-drenched moan.

“Jesus Christ Yoongi, let the girl just eat in peace,”  Namjoon speaks in your defense.  Bless him.  

With a dark chuckle, your boyfriend slowly removes his hand from under your dress, only promising to finish up when you two get home.


Hoseok

His look of artificial innocence and confusion as to why you just breathlessly, needily moaned for him was absolutely infuriating.  This bastard was two fingers, knuckle deep inside your core under the table of your favorite restaurant that you were currently at, surrounded by his fellow bandmates.  His pace was fast, curved to hit all the right spots with every thrust.  You kept quiet for as long as you could, but he finally broke you.  Everyone looks at you with the exception of Jungkook, who keeps his head down choosing to ignore what just happened.  

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?  You sound stressed…” Hobi says, barely able to hold back his laughter.  The other members now understand what was happening, a couple of them even finding it funny.

“Can you two at least wait until you go home?  Some of us are trying to eat.” Jin speaks up as he puts a bite of food in his mouth.

Your boyfriend just beams as he removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty yet relieved.  You look at him, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he was done but only for now.


Namjoon

You had been trying and trying to get Namjoon to turn off or at least turn down the vibrator he’d made you wear to lunch with the other boys as punishment, all to no avail.  There was only one thing left that you could do.  Embarrass him.  You didn’t want to, but with a growing heat that was washing over you and a tightening feeling around the toy, this needed to stop before it went too far.  You decide that if it’s a reaction he wants, that’s what he gets.  He just gets more than he probably wanted in public and around his friends.  

“Namjoonie…” You moan in the whiniest, needy, tortured, and breathless yet quiet voice you can muster without it getting too real.  

His eyes immediately widened as they look into yours with the most shocked expression.  You can see his face become blood red as he nervously fumbles around with the remote trying to quickly turn the device off.  You look at the other boys who are also looking at you, confused and horrified.  You sigh in relief and smile as you finally feel the vibration come to a halt.  You look at you boyfriend once more and give him a thank you kiss on the cheeks as he buries his face in hands.


Jimin

You stare Jimin in the eyes, his face clearly overjoyed seeing how breathless you were becoming.  He’d been teasing you all through dinner with the boys.  Stealthily sliding his hand under your skirt and was rubbing your clothed heat while occasionally slipping a finger in your panties for direct contact.  It was all becoming too much.  He was playing everything off so cool, able to easily eat and carry out conversations with his friend as if he wasn’t bringing steadily closer to your breaking point.  It was infuriating.  You are trying to get a bite of food and act normal when you feel two of his fingers enter you without warning or hesitation.  With pleasure quickly consuming you, you are unable to resist letting his name escape your mouth.  He smirks down at his food, not looking at you once.  You are so focused on not being pushed over the edge in public, you don’t notice his fellow members staring at you until Yoongi comes to your rescue, sort of.

“Fuck, get a room.  You two are disgusting.”  He says with food and disgust very clearly filling his mouth.  

Jimin completely removes his hand from you, simply smirking to let you know he was only done for the time being.


Taehyung

“Tae,” you moan out desperately, “…please.”  

You don’t mean for him to please continue his relentless swirls, circles, and figure 8 patterns on your overly sensitive clit.  You would mean that if he wasn’t doing this under a corner table in a cafe while you are sitting across from the other members.  The boys immediately bring their eyes to you and your boyfriend in surprise upon realizing what he was most likely doing to you.

“I didn’t expect this from you, Taehyung.  You should stop, let her rest and eat.”  Jimin says concerned but obviously slightly amused with the situation as it’s evident that he’s holding back laughter.  

Tae looks at you innocently as he removes his fingers from you.  He flashes his signature boxy grin in victory, though he does feel a little bad about embarrassing you, he knows he will make it up to you after you both leave.


Jungkook

You can already feel the stares from the boys and Jungkook as you accidentally let his name slip from your throat.  You tried to fight the pleasure you were getting from feeling two of your boyfriend’s long, slim fingers wreaking havoc on your g-spot, but you were obviously losing.  Getting glares and a proud smile from Jungkook himself, you are overcome with embarrassment.  

“Can this wait, guys?  We are trying to enjoy this food.” Jin voice is laced with calm horror.  

You soon feel an emptiness between you legs, much to your relief.  Your boyfriends face just plastered with satisfaction in knowing you would now be wonderfully worked up for later, once both of you got home.


I hope you enjoyed! XOXO - Lace

Break-Up Novella.

PART ONE: I WON’T GIVE UP.

Here we have the very first part to a very anticipated, very emotional, very long-winded, very angsty-filled break-up story where we see the missus and Harry split and cope in ways that only bring them back to one another, closer than before and deeper in love than ever before. A little novella(?) that I’ve been working my hardest on and spending my free time perfecting just for you guys. 

I cannot thank you enough for being patient with and understanding that it’s been something I want to be 100% happy with. It’s been tough, I’m not going to lie. It’s been hard to find motivation because I’ve not written very many sad stories whilst being on here; I’ve read them! But, not written many, so, I hope this is the start of something new (cue High School Musical reference).

I’m still very iffy over the argument scene. So, bear with uit, haha. It’s the first piece of angst that I’ve written…

But, I’m finally SO happy to be sharing it with you! For the next 5 days, you’re going to be taken on a journey of emotions between the two of them. Enjoy! x

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His Throne [MYG] | 01

Genre: Smut, some angst, some fluff

Word Count: 4,430

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Min Yoongi on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Yoongi, dom!Yoongi, thigh riding

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

Other member vers: Hoseok | Jimin | Jungkook | Namjoon | Seokjin | Taehyung

A/N: This is the first smut I’ve ever written so I’m sorry if it’s bad TT. PCs to vikttoria16.

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Misunderstandings.

Genre: Smut + Fluff?

Pairing: Reader [Vampire AU!] x Taehyung [Werewolf AU!] 

Word Count: 6.7k-ish


Originally posted by fairybcby

“Hmm, sweet or savory?” You questioned yourself as you sat kneeling in front of the lower cabinet of your mansion, deciding between eating cake or making some noodles for yourself.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t seem to hear the faint, hesitant steps that lead up to your door, your attention only snapping back to reality when you heard the ring of the doorbell. Within seconds you opened the door, surprised to find Taehyung standing outside.

“Y/N-ah…” He looked up at you and you were taken aback by the unexpectedness of his visit, eyes growing wide at the sight in front of you. 

You hadn’t seen him for years, not since his wedding which you had so pleasantly graced with your presence in addition to your present which was probably the most expensive one there. Although, he hadn’t expected you to show up, not after the disagreement you both had had but smiled softly when he saw you seated in the crowd.

You, a vampire, wanted to spend the rest of eternity with Taehyung, who was also an immortal but a werewolf. He had argued with you, saying that your decision was based on comfort and ease more than love, that you were just trying to find someone who could rid you of the loneliness that came with your unending days. You wish your mind had worked faster, but before you could even deny his accusations, he was already gone.

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“Emergency rooms are spaces filled with anticipation, primal in their emotional pull. Broad cross-sections of society– perhaps more accurate than jury duty in reflecting a community– they present humanity at its most raw.” The Tincture of Time is on sale 4/25 (and thanks to @bookmusings for the beautiful photo!)

22 Common Mistakes by Non-Native Speakers

I’ve compiled a short list of some very common and sometimes embarrassing mistakes made by non-native speakers of Spanish that are almost always a clue that the person doing this is not fluent or wholly proficient in Spanish.

This isn’t a complete list, it’s things that I’ve thought of as very common. So if I’ve missed any of your most embarrassing mistakes or you have some other examples, send them in!

1. Overusing a personal pronoun

In some cases, the use of a personal pronoun (yo, tú, nosotros) is not necessary. In Spanish, most verbs have a specific conjugation that applies to a certain subject that are unique… so there’s less of a reason to add a pronoun. When you do, you sound overly emphatic.

hablo = I speak

yo hablo = the one who is speaking is me

This can be a useful thing to know if you’re answering questions like “Who did ___?” but in everyday speech if you go through a routine like: yo hago la cama, yo me ducho, yo como el desayuno and so on sounds incredibly tiresome to a native speaker because you’re putting unneeded emphasis on it.

Where emphasis is better served is when the subject is doubtful - 3rd person singular and plural.

Because if “he” is conjugated like “she”, and “they” could be anyone, it’s sometimes useful to write the pronoun él or ella or name them to avoid confusion.

This is especially useful in the subjunctive where 3rd person singular looks like yo.

2. Capitalizing nationalities

In English, we write English. We write American as American, and Chinese as Chinese.

In Spanish, it’s not like that. 

inglés / inglesa = English

español / española = Spanish

francés / francesa = French

griego/a = Greek

ruso/a = Russian

italiano/a = Italian

japonés / japonesa = Japanese

chino/a = Chinese

The only reason you would capitalize someone’s nationality or ethnicity would be if it were a tribe like los Iroquois or if it was their nickname/title like la Chinita [a historical woman]

3. Ser and Estar

Always a problem.

Ser is used with description, qualities, telling time, passive voice, what something is made of, what something is used for, set personality traits, and a few others.

Estar is used for location, temporary conditions (sick, tired, cloudy etc.), a person’s mood and NOT their personality, the progressive, and a few others.

The difference is best learned by practice and repeated example.

4. Ser and Haber

While ser is used for “to be”, one of the main functions of haber is “to be present/existing” which is typically hay but may be hubo/había/habrá etc. depending on the tense.

Son sillas = They are chairs

Hay sillas = There are chairs

When it’s a question of, “What is it?” you use ser.

When it’s a question of, “Does it exist?” use haber.

5. Addressing all letters with Querido/a for “dear”

In English, we just have “dear”. In Spanish there are two ways to say it.

Querido/a comes from querer which means “to love”. So querido/a means “dear” as in “person I care about” or sometimes “beloved”.

Generally, estimado/a is what you want to use when it’s someone above your station like a boss or a teacher, because “esteemed” is giving them respect and is more formal.

The real difference is if you’re on a first name basis, querido/a is fine.

If you’re not, or if you’re being formal, or it’s a stranger, estimado/a is what you want to use.

If you’re comfortable enough to begin a letter with, “Hey!” or “Yo!” then you can use querido/a but it can be seen as disrespectful or extremely buddy-buddy friendly to use querido/a instead of estimado/a in some contexts.

6. The use of americano/a

While americano/a is very commonly used for “American”, there are places where it’s frowned upon when you mean “from the United States”.

Because, while americano/a means “American” it refers to North AND/OR South America. Canada is “American”, Brazil is “American”, Haiti is “American”, Argentina is “American”.

So you might see: España tuvo colonias americanas / “Spain had American colonies”.

When you mean “from/pertaining to the U.S.”, it’s better to use estadounidense which means “from Los Estados Unidos” just to avoid accidentally being ethnocentric.

7. “I’m hot” =/= estoy caliente & “I’m cold” =/= estoy frío/a

Tengo calor. = I am hot. 

Estoy caliente. = I am aroused.

Tengo frío. = I am cold.

Estoy frío/a. = I am distant, not friendly, frigid, or a cold fish.

[Note: estoy frío/a can also be used in the sense of “my body is colder than average”; generally the estar kind of implies “a body” and not a person… so you could say el muerto está frío which would mean “the dead man is cold” which is “to the touch”. Worse than this would be soy frío/a which is more obviously “I am frigid and dislike people”.]

8. Por and Para

The Differences between por and para

9. Preterite vs. Imperfect

Should I use Preterite or Imperfect?

10. Position and Directionality - debajo vs. abajoatrás vs. detrásante vs. antes etc.

Generally, de- implies that something is in a particular position. And generally, a- implies that there is motion.

The trick to these words is if you are describing something’s static position, versus a state of movement.

debajo = underneath

abajo = downward

detrás = behind

atrás = moving behind [<<¡Atrás!>> as an interjection is, “Stand back!”]

tras = after / pursuing / chasing / following

ante = (to stand) before [e.g. ante la Corte "before the Court"; ante la Corona “before the Crown”]

antes = before (something happens) / just in front

11. Use of excitado/a

excitado/a = aroused sexually

emocionado/a = excited / filled with emotions of anticipation and maybe nervousness

12. Use of capable

capar = to neuter / to castrate

capable = able to be castrated

capaz = capable / having ability

13. Darse cuenta vs. Realizar

Both translate as “to realize” but in different senses.

Using darse cuenta is saying “to realize” as in “to have a revelation” or “to come to understand something” and is usually what you want.

Using realizar is saying “to make a reality” or “to finalize”. This is used primarily with projects or when making dreams a reality. It’s better translated as “to carry out” or “to finish”.

14. Preguntar vs. Pedir

Both mean “to ask” but not in the same way.

To ask a question is usually hacer una pregunta or preguntar. When you use preguntar you’re saying “to question (someone)” or “to ask about something of which you don’t know”. Hacer una pregunta is more often “to ask (someone) a question”.

Pedir on the other hand is “to ask for (something)”. It may be easier to think of it as “to request”. It’s most often associated with asking forgiveness [pedir disculpas], making demands, and especially in the sense of “ordering” at a restaurant.

15. Capitalizing everything in a sequence/title

Spanish typically capitalizes only the first letter of a sentence or sequence or title. English takes after German in the way of capitalizing every noun but not the prepositions or particle. Just be aware that this does not apply for proper names within the title.

So for instance…

Cien años de soledad = One Hundred Years of Solitude

Alicia en el país de las maravillas = Alice in Wonderland

Lo que el viento se llevó = Gone with the Wind

La vuelta al mundo en ochenta días = Around the World in 80 Days

El mago de Oz = The Wizard of Oz

16. Overuse of para with various verbs

Most commonly, this mistake happens with esperar "to wait for" and buscar “to look for”. 

People commonly write buscar para or esperar para, but because the “for” is already implied, there’s no need to add para.

Busco mi libro. = I’m looking for my book.

Busco novio. = I’m looking for a boyfriend.

Busco a ella. - I’m looking for her.

Estoy esperando el autobús. = I’m waiting for the bus.

Estoy esperando a ella. - I’m waiting for her.

17. Moverse vs. Mudarse

moverse = to move physically

mudarse = to move places of residence

*Note: mudar by itself means “to mutate” or “to molt” which is different from both of these meanings

18. Older/Younger vs. Elder/Younger

This is a problem that exists because English, but in Spanish there’s a clear distinction between both sets of words.

viejo/a / joven = old / young as in age

mayor / menor = elder / younger as in sequence of age

Mi hermana es mucho más mayor que yo. - My sister is much older than me. [“My sister is my senior in age because she was born first”]

Mi hermana es mucho más vieja que yo. - My sister is more of an old woman than me. [“My sister is a senior citizen”]

*Note: There’s a bit more leeway with joven and menor… the general distinction is that joven implies “youth”, but menor means “younger than” which implies a sequence.

19. Using en with days of the week / months of the year

Generally, with days of the week or months of the year, people are more likely to say: “On Tuesday” and write en martes

In Spanish, that’s not how it’s done. It’s more common to use el to imply a due date or when something occurs.

La tarea es para el lunes. - The homework is due Monday.

Hagan la tarea para el viernes. - Do the homework by Friday

*Note:

Mi cumpleaños es en febrero. = My birthday is in February.

Mi cumpleaños es el diez de febrero. = My birthday is February 10th.

20. Historia vs. Cuento

la historia = a long story / history (the subject)

el cuento = a short story [related to contar “to tell”]

21. Words that end in -a that are masculine, words that end in -o that are feminine

This is mastered by repetition. Sometimes it’s because they’re loanwords (especially from Greek)

  • el día [Indo-European and not Greek] = day
  • el poema [Greek] = poem
  • el clima [Greek] = climate
  • el aroma [Greek] = smell / aroma
  • el programa [Greek] = program

Other times they’re abbreviations

  • la radio(grafía) = radio / radiography
  • la moto(cicleta) = motorcycle
  • la bici(cleta) = bicycle
  • la tele(visión) = television

You just have to do your best to learn them as you go.

*Note:

la radio = radio [the machine or a radio program]

el radio = radius [geometry]

22. Reflexives with me, te and nos

When a reflexive is listed, it’s often in the “unconjugated” infinitive + reflexive se.

So for instance, irse “to leave” is listed as irse in the dictionary. When it’s conjugated however, the reflexive must adhere to the subject.

So when it's yo it turns to me and so on:

Tengo que irme. = I have to leave.

Tienes que irte. = You need to leave.

Ella tiene que irse. = She needs to leave.

Ellos tienen que irse. = They need to leave.

Tenemos que irnos. = We need to leave.

*Note: This applies to all reflexives and in all tenses; me fui, te fuiste, se fueme ibate ibasse iba; me vaya, te vayas, se vaya and so on.

The se is only used for 3rd person, singular or plural.

His Throne [JJK] | 01

Genre: Smut, some angst, some fluff

Word Count: 4,430

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Jeon Jungkook on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Jungkook, dom!Jungkook, thigh riding

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

Other member vers: Hoseok | Jimin | Namjoon | Yoongi | Seokjin | Taehyung

A/N: This is the first smut I’ve ever written so I’m sorry if it’s bad TT. PCs to vikttoria16.

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The Last Jedi Teaser Poster Anyalsis

Worth a Thousand Words

An Analysis of The Last Jedi Teaser Poster

Having just returned home from Star Wars Celebration: Orlando, I am filled with emotions, excitement and anticipation for the next installment of the Skywalker family saga. I was fortunately enough sit in the The Last Jedi panel, after 20 hours of sitting on a concrete floor, and an additional 10 hours before hand, queueing outside. However, that panel was worth every second of the wait time. And while most people will say the long anticipated teaser trailer stole the show, as an artist and illustrator, for me, the star of the show was the teaser poster, that was also revealed.




My jaw literally dropped as I stood in stunned silence as the crowd cheered around me. In fact, my line buddy, a member of the 501st by the name of Matt, repeatedly asked if I was okay as stood agape at the poster, amazed in it’s brilliant design as well as very clear and intentional use of visual story telling. I was flabbergasted at the bold choices made by Lucasfilm in this teaser poster, and I do believe that this is more of an indicator of the film’s story, rather than the trailer. This poster tells us, the viewer, everything we need to know about the direction of the upcoming movie, as well as helps dispel the rumors that The Last Jedi will be nothing more than a carbon clone of The Empire Strikes Back.

Before I go into detail I just want to say that it’s no secret that I ship reylo, however, for the purposes of this discussion, I am setting aside my implicit biases and talking about the facts stated in this poster, rather than fan speculation and conjecture.

First and foremost, what stood out to me is the simplicity in the poster’s design. We see only three characters, Rey, Luke and Kylo Ren. After doing extensive research, I found that this is the ONLY poster with just three characters. All previous Star Wars posters depict the main ensemble of cast members, as far back as 1979’s A New Hope. Never before has a Star Wars poster depicted only three members of the cast, and it is a clear statement that these three characters are the most important in relation to the story. There is also a not so subtle nod to Luke Skywalker in the original promotional theatrical poster for A New Hope. Both Rey and Luke are positioned in almost the same spacial area, in the same pose, with an ignited light saber raised up. For Luke, this symbolized his acceptance of his heroic journey, and the inherent power he possessed. For Rey, however, the meaning is vastly different. The sequel trilogy is very much about passing the torch from the old generation to the new, and unlike in The Force Awakens, Rey is present and accepting of that power, physically and metaphorically, in The Last Jedi, the second installment, rather than the first. Rey is our new hero, now heroine, embarking on her own heroine’s journey.



Now I know not many fans like Kylo Ren, and in fact they perceive him as a whiny emo cry baby, trying his best (and failing) to emulate Grandpa Vader, but his importance in the story cannot be overstated! He is the descendent of Darth Vader, and Leia Organa, and as much as most fans dislike him, that’s just simply a fact! The Star Wars trilogy movies are about the Skywalker family, and he is the new Skywalker of the trilogy. He is important to the cinematic universe as a whole, and characters from the The Force Awakens who easily had double the amount of screen time as him, such as Finn, were purposefully omitted from the poster in lieu of Kylo Ren. Regardless of how much fans like his character, he is going to play a very impactful role in the film to come. I know that he is not the most important character or the focal point of the poster, however, given the overly negative response he solicits from fans, I felt that it is important and necessary to make my position, and the poster’s narrative clear; even if you don’t like his character, Kylo Ren is a key player in the Skywalker family saga, and the cinematic universe as a whole.

When analyzing any piece of artwork, regardless of the the medium, the best jumping off point is the focal point. In The Last Jedi teaser poster, the viewer’s eye is immediately drawn to Rey, brought forth by the strong contrast of the blue halo of light emitting from her lightsaber. In terms of visual hierarchy and storytelling, she is the most important element to not only the poster, but in the movie it represents. Her position, in the lower center of the foreground suggests that she is the most grounded of the three characters, and thus the one that we, as the viewer, is meant to relate to the most. However, she is removed from both Luke and Kylo, positioned below them, which indicates that she was not a initially part of their conflict. And originally, she wasn’t. Rey was just a scavenger, abandoned by her parents on Jakku, struggling each day to survive. At that point, Rey didn’t know or care about the Force, Resistance or the First Order. Her primary goals and motivations were pure and simple, survival.

This coincides with the backstory indicated in not only The Force Awakens but also in Claudia Grey’s novel, Bloodline. There are no indication that either men knew who Rey was or her origins until she found BB-8 and became tangled in fight with the First Order. Luke and Kylo have a contentious and tumultuous past, filled with conflict and anger, as they stand on opposite sides of Rey’s light saber. This is a visual metaphor for the Force, and where Luke and Kylo represent the Light side, and Dark side respectively. Separating them is Rey, and the light of her saber. Although she is removed from their history, Rey has been flung into the foreground of the struggle between opposing sides of the Force. She is part of their present, and thus their future. In short, the resolution of Luke and Kylo’s conflict rests on Rey’s shoulders, both metaphorically and visually in the poster.

The struggle been Kylo Ren and Luke is an interesting and important to the story, but what is more important is what it represents! At its core, Star Wars is a fairy tail, and was intended to tell stories and teach children about the human condition and morality. Understanding every detail of Luke and Kylo’s past is less important as what their struggle represents. It is the timeless struggle of good vs. evil. If the timeline in Bloodline is to be trusted completely, and there are no extra twists and turns in the interum, Kylo Ren turned to the Dark side of the Force approximately six years prior, and has been unable to locate or confront Luke since his disappearance. What has changed in that time? Why will Kylo suddenly be able to locate his former master on Ahch-to? The answer is right in the poster, Rey!

This of course opens the doors to a whole new set of theories, such as a Force Bond, or Snoke obtains a copy of the map and so on. But there is practically no solid evidence to substantiate any of these claims, and at this point, they are pure conjecture.

I also find Rey’s placement in the middle quite interesting in the wider context of the history of the Force itself. One of the central themes Star Wars has always been finding balance. In the prequel trilogy we saw this through Anakin’s development from the heroic Jedi knight, to the Sith Lord, Darth Vader. And yes, Anakin is responsible for choosing his actions and must therefor accept the consequences of such actions, however, the biggest contributing factor to his descent into darkness was the Jedi Order and their absolute refusal to acquiesce to the basic human nature of love and attachment. In fact, one can argue that the Jedi Order is even more barbaric and cruel than the Sith. Companionship and attachment is one of the hallmarks of humanity, and by denying them, they are essentially denying being human. But the Jedi Order in both the prequel and and original trilogy was the personification of the Light side of the Force, while the Sith representing Darkness. Too much of either side’s influence causes the Force to spiral out of balance, and thus the galaxy is thrown into chaos again. This was demonstrated numerous times on both sides, such as Anakin’s betrayal, or the New Republic unknowingly creating the groundwork for the First Order.

In short, the brighter the light, the darker the shadow. Both light and dark must be present in order to achieve balance, and Rey’s placement, directly between the light and dark, makes her the fulcrum, or the point of equilibrium. In essence, it is Rey who is who is going to bring about that balance.

Another interesting observation I made was that all three characters, Luke, Rey and Kylo Ren are all colored in red. I cannot stress this enough, the psychology of color is important! Specific colors invoke particular and subconscious imagery and responses. Color theory and its use in marketing and illustration is a universal language. In fact, color tells just as much, if not more, of a story as the composition! There are two primary colors in the poster, red and blue. Red is the color of darkness, evil and passion. Blue on the other hand conveys serenity and tranquility. Why is Kylo’s lightsaber red? Not because he uses the Dark side of the Force, but because the color red has a strong visual impact and the human brain automatically associates red with darkness and power. It’s no coincidence that the color red is associated with the Sith, while blue is attributed to the Jedi! Everything you see on screen or in print was designed to create a specific response from the viewer and convey as much information as possible with no words.

Further more, in both The Force Awakens and the teaser trailer for The Last Jedi, it’s made quite clear that our heroes and villain are all experiencing a crisis of faith in the Force. Rey had her entire existence turned up on its head looking for guidance and training. Luke, it is suggested, fell into despair and solitude after the death of his acolytes because his teachings and philosophies failed to save his own nephew. Kylo, who just recently murdered his own father in hopes of committing himself entirely to the darkness, felt more weak and confused than ever before (this is said nearly word for work in The Force Awakens novelization). Because the color red is frequently associated with the dark side of the Force, and I find it quite compelling that all three figures are bathed in red. To me, this suggests that the trio are all going to be struggling with their inner demons, which often implies the temptation of the dark side. In fact, the only beacon of light and hope comes from Rey’s light saber. Some have argued that the light comes from Rey herself, but when you compare her upper body to her lower body, you can observe that just like the figures above her, Rey’s form is red, and the blue reflected in her face is emanating from the lightsaber, rather than Rey herself. This coincides with Rian Johnson’s choice to make the Episode VIII title font red, and maintains visual continuity. The most logical conclusion one can extrapolate is in The Last Jedi is going to delve into much deeper and darker overtones and story lines than it’s predecessors.

The positioning of Luke and Kylo in relation to each other is another aspect to this poster that I find intriguing. Luke and Kylo’s heads are above Rey; in this poster they are literally watching over her, and her choice to accept the Skywalker lightsaber. However, they are on opposing sides of the saber, as described above, representing the light and the dark. As a viewer, this design illustrates a sense of tension and conflict in both Luke and Kylo, but also in how they view Rey, and her choices. This image is clearly setting up the overtone that Rey has to struggle between choosing accepting either Luke or Kylo. In other words, it’s another iteration of the never ending struggle between the light and the dark.

Looking back in The Force Awakens for a moment, we remember that Kylo Ren extended the offer to teach Rey, “You need a teacher. I can show you the ways of the Force!” We all know the choice Rey makes at the end of the movie, but what about Luke? Will Luke even want to teach Rey after his previous failings at reviving the old Jedi Order? The following does begin to tread into the territory of conjecture and theorizing, however I do believe there is solid evidence to back up what I am about to speculate, or else I would have omitted it form this analysis. At The Last Jedi panel, Daisy Ridley, under the watchful eye and ear of Kathleen Kennedy, did reveal some very interesting information. We, as the audience were MEANT to know this information prior to viewing the poster, or else the CEO of Lucasfilm would never have permitted that information be divulged (like the Rogue One mishap at Celebration Europe 2016). Summarized, Daisy stated that Rey indeed does meet her hero, Luke Skywalker, and like in real life, how we  (Rey) envision our heroes does not always coincide with the reality of our heroes. This very clearly sets up the idea that Rey and Luke are going to have a less than harmonious relationship in The Last Jedi. This is also backed up by some previous leaks and spoilers from MakingStarWars.net, however until we know the veracity of those rumors, I do not treat them as fact, like I do the things said directly from the people at Lucasfilm. The statements from Daisy Ridley at the panel, however, were purposeful in sparking ideas and igniting the flame of this idea that Luke and Rey will not have a peaceful mentor/mentee relationship in the same light as Yoda and Luke’s relationship.



Mentorship has always been another key themes throughout the Star Wars saga, from Anakin’s tutelage under Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn, to Luke studying with Yoda. There is every indication that those reoccurring themes will continue, but in a different fashion. It’s been made pretty clear that Rey is going to struggle with Luke’s training, and we already know of Kylo Ren’s unrelenting conflict within himself, stemming from the teachings of Supreme Leader Snoke. Snoke ordered Kylo to kill his own father, an act that he did follow through with, but the novelization has proven that that act made him more conflicted than ever before. Where it should have brought him strength, instead he found weakness and doubt.

And all of this ties back to Kylo Ren’s original offer to Rey to teach her. It is my belief, based on the evidence above, that Rey is going to struggle between the teachings of Kylo Ren and Luke. You may ask “how will Rey learn from Kylo? They aren’t on the same planet?” Well even that is partially answered in Episode VII, and confirmed in tweets made by Pablo Hidalgo. Pablo definitively said that Rey learned so much so quickly at Starkiller Base because she extracted the information from Kylo Ren’s mind during the infamous interrogation scene. So in a way, Kylo has already become her first mentor.

Both the Light and the Dark are justified in their beliefs and teachings. Adam Driver previously stated in an interview that Kylo Ren vehemently believes he is and was justified in his actions, and it’s quite clear that Luke fully intended to disappear into the galaxy as a frizzled old hermit. What will happen if Luke does not agree to initially train Rey? She has all of these newly awakens powers, and no way to control them. Just like Kylo stated, she really does need a teacher. But which teacher? The Light or the Dark? Or, at what this poster suggests, something in the middle!

By placing both of Rey’s mentors above her, two Force users who are much more skilled and honed than she is, it indicates that both mentors are going to be fighting within Rey’s psyche. Luke will be teaching her one method, while Kylo and his Dark side influence will be pulling Rey in the opposite direction. This is wiring and character growth done right! The setting and characters have been established in the first film of the sequel trilogy, while the second installment places challenges and obstacles in their path. Without those challenges, characters will not grow or develop. Even more evidence for this is Rian Johnson’s prior statements that the characters in The Last Jedi are going to be tested and pushed beyond their limits. What would challenge Rey more than knowing she is can identify and relate to the person she hates the most, Kylo Ren? That would force the characters into a position where they have no choice but to adapt and evolve into something that spans beyond the juxtaposition of the Light and Dark side of the Force.

In other words, Grey Jedi!

Most likely it won’t be in so many words, but the concept behind it will remain the same. A world of Force users that are not bound by the narrow dogmatic codes of the Jedi or Sith! And while I do find both of their ideologies absolutely fascinating an an integral part of the Star Wars canonical universe, by constricting Force sensitives to Jedi/Sith, Good/Evil, Light/Dark is extremely limiting and grossly inhibits the idea of character depth, subtlety, progression and nuance. Maz Kanata and Ahsoka Tano are prime examples of Force sensitive individuals in the Star Wars universe who are canon and are Force sensitive, but do not fall into the dichotomy of Jedi and Sith. There has never been a main hero character in the films (which are the primary story telling means in the entire franchise that reaches the most viewers and has the biggest impact on mainstream pop culture). Luke Skywalker was seen as universal good, the epitome of the Joseph Campbell’s hero, who embarks on heroic journey on behalf of goodness and justice. The passing of the torch from Luke to Rey indicates a paradigm shift in the understanding of the Force for not only the characters but the viewers and fans as well.

The light saber in the poster is another piece of evidence for this! There is no partition between red (Darkness) and blue (Light). Instead there is a gradient emanating from both ends of the lightsaber, further emphasizing that this story will not be so simply as “kill the monster, save the world” but instead of dimensionality and gradation. There is middle ground to be found in the Force between the Light and the Dark, and Rey is the key to unlocking it. Or as Rey quite simply puts it in the trailer “balance.”

                                                        ********

On a personal side note, I do believe this teaser poster does further add fuel to the Reylo fire, and it makes be believe even more fervently that Reylo will eventually become canon in some iteration, but I wanted to keep my personal biases and theories out of this analysis. If anyone enjoyed reading this and would like to read my views on The Last Jedi teaser trailer and how it relates to Reylo, I’d be more than happy to comply. But I wanted and needed to get this poster off my chest first. My mind has been boiling over, wanted to put these thoughts down in some sort of organized fashion because as someone who is fluent in the language of illustrations as a medium for visual story telling, this poster blew my mind. I stood just flabbergasted at how blatantly the story implications were, but when I asked people about their thoughts they all came to different conclusions. And yes, that is the point of this poster, to get people talking and theorizing about what it all means, however visual story telling generally complies with a set of rules that are universally, albeit often subconsciously, understood by the viewer.


 Whew! I wrote this entire analysis in a single sitting. I apologize if there are any immediate grammatical errors, but I proof read this a number of times, so I am pretty sure that it’s correct. 

EDIT: Thank you to @sleemo who helped me fix the grammatical errors in this!

His Throne [KNJ] | 01

Genre: Smut, some angst, some fluff

Word Count: 4,430

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Kim Namjoon on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Namjoon, dom!Namjoon, thigh riding

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

Other member vers: Hoseok | Jimin | Jungkook | Yoongi | Seokjin | Taehyung

A/N: This is the first smut I’ve ever written so I’m sorry if it’s bad TT. PCs to vikttoria16.

Keep reading

You’re Anorexic

*Trigger warning 

A/N: This was a very difficult piece for me to write. Please keep in mind that I am no professional and, by any means, mean no offense to anybody with eating disorders. If any part of this imagine is offensive or taken personally, please message me.

If you are suffering through something this fatal, please contact help as soon as possible. 

- masterlist linked in bio


Time.

It’s a funny concept for Y/n. Between every hour and every minute of the day, there lays a purpose. Every second counts, whether it determines the rest of your life or destroys what’s left of it. For those, time goes quickly or barely passes at all- has no beginning nor end.

It’s relied heavily on, because we all die one day or another, unexpectedly or anticipated, and if a second of time is wasted, it haunts us until our dying days.

Time is the one true consistency in everyone’s life.

When Y/n was younger, time meant everything. She counted the days till her birthday, counted down the seconds to the new year, and dated every special event she could think of. She believed that every second of her life mattered so greatly, that everything she had once known could change in a blink of an eye. Days were filled with bliss, anticipation for what the future held for her. Because she wasn’t getting any younger, and all she could think about how she was one second- a millisecond, even- away from her life giving her a new purpose.

It wasn’t until summer of 2012 when all of her greatest expectations were destroyed in a blink of an eye.

Y/n lost her father.

It happened so suddenly, an unexpected collision during the early hours of the morning. Y/n was home at the time, locked away in her room because she had an argument with him earlier on that night. Because the money situation was tight, it was impossible for Y/n to attend her top choice university. She insisted that she’d take out loans from the bank and pay every bit of tuition herself, but he refused.

She felt as if all her time and effort has been wasted. Of course, there were other schools, but Y/n was too stubborn and so set on attending this university that they didn’t matter half as much as the one she worked for.

She spewed out words she didn’t mean, anger and frustration boiling up inside of her. She had worked so hard for this moment- had worked so hard to make her parents and herself proud, but it all blew up in her face. She had never been so upset before, and it was the first time in a while she started to raise her voice and cry to try and get her way. She would have done anything, even if it meant insulting her father.

He pleaded for her to settle down, because no matter where she ended up, she’d always make him proud. But she wasn’t having it.

“I never want to talk to you again.”

Of course she didn’t mean it, but she just felt so betrayed. And because of how sensitive she was, she knew the grudge she was holding against him was going to last a while.

Already late for his meeting, he sighed and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, the way he always did whenever they were in an argument. It was to show that he still loved her, that he’ll always love her, even when times seemed rough.

“I’m so sorry, love bug. We’ll discuss this with your mother once I get back from my meeting.“

It wasn’t until a couple hours later her mom called her.

She was sobbing, her words jumbled and breath so harsh Y/n could barely understand a word she was saying. All she managed to hear was “your father” and “car accident,” and it was all she needed to understand that her father hadn’t made it. He was never going to come back home.

Y/n spent the next couple of months trying to cope with his loss. She didn’t understand what it meant to lose somebody forever, she never experienced that kind of pain before. It was too much for her, living without her father and watching her mother slowly turn into a lifeless woman.

The only way to cope with all of the pain was to stop eating.

She didn’t know exactly how it helped, but it did. She saw it as a punishment against herself, for saying such horrible things to her father and having him believe she truly never wanted to speak to him again. She didn’t blame herself for his loss, but she carried a horrendous amount of guilt upon herself. So, she began to skip meals, which wasn’t hard because she could barely stomach the thought of food while she was as depressed as she was. And what started off as a coping mechanism turned into something much more fatal.

Now, time means nothing to her, filled with an empty void. Every minute is another minute of being alone- another minute closer to her end. She sits, stares at the wall clock hung perfectly in Ms. Carter’s office, and watches as it passes with every breath she takes.

“Y/n..” Ms. Carter mumbles, looking down at her watch to calculate just how much time has been wasted since their session began.

“Are you ever going to speak?” she questions with an exasperated sigh, long past her patience because all of their recent sessions have consisted of unanswered questions and the same dismal look displayed on Y/n’s face.

Y/n makes no effort to answer her. Her legs stay crossed indian-style in front of her, picking at a hangnail that’s been bothering her the past couple of days. She hasn’t moved since the appointment started, staying in the same position as Ms. Carter asked her questions Y/n was hardly paying attention to.

She’s well aware she’s wasting Ms. Carter’s time. She could be guiding other clients toward the help they need, or simply listening to someone’s troubles other than the horns honking outside and the agonizing sound of the clock ticking further toward the next hour.

Hell, she’s even convinced that she’d be wasting her own time, as well, if it weren’t for the emptiness in her heart. This is the only place Y/n has somebody. Everyone in her life left her, unable to deal with the constant struggle of her eating disorder. Her family, friends, boyfriends; all of them had left her. What was once an attempt to help Y/n recover from her disorder turned into a part time job for them; a constant occupation in their lives to deal with her.

If it was their choice, they probably would have left sooner than they did. But they all gave her pity, only remaining in her life because they felt another person leaving her would push her to the edge- would push her into something far more fatal. Some left without a word, others left with a rehearsed speech about how they didn’t want to see her suffer, that they couldn’t bare the sight of her bones sticking from her body. They couldn’t help her anymore, because they didn’t understand, and they barely have their own lives figured out, so how could they figure out hers? They finished their speeches with a sympathetic apology, saying that they’d still be there for her if she needed them. But they didn’t mean it. She knew they didn’t mean it.

A year and a half into her disorder, with nobody by her side, with not a soul left to help her recover, someone saved her.

Harry.

When he started to get to know her- to listen to her story- he had never felt more remorse for somebody the way he had with her. Such a beautiful and sweet woman has been torturing herself for years all because of the amount of guilt she had at such a young age. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she’s been through, all the pain and hardship she’s endured throughout er life.

She was so lovely, as well, he fell in love with her the moment she started opening up to him. It was easy for the both of them, to talk to one another, simply because there was instant connection none of them could deny. They fit into each other’s lives perfectly, as if filling up the emptiness they both had.

Harry dedicated every part of his life to her, with not a single complaint hanging from his lips. He loved her in ways nobody else had loved her before. He showed it by staying with her, through all the horrible battles she faced. He was patient with her, putting up with her fight against food and reassuring her when she wanted to throw it all up. He was there every step toward her recovery and every step toward her relapses.

It took a long while for her to finally recover. She was eating again; she was healthy again. Her skin glowed with an olive undertone, hair so soft Harry found it irresistible not to touch. Her once twisted thoughts altered to an optimistic mindset. The once beautiful girl he once known developed into an ethereal woman, convinced he was going to spend the rest of his faithful life with her.

If it weren’t for Harry, she wouldn’t have recovered. When he came into her life, she made every promise to herself and to Harry that she would overcome this. She’d continue her battle for them, because she now had a reason to fight. Her love for Harry pushed her to be the woman she became. He changed her- he saved her.

But a year into her recovery, something changed between them.

Something changed in him.

She never felt his love like she used to. He was barley there for her. When he’d come home from work, he wouldn’t call out for her anymore. Even though they were together, she began to feel lonely again. Y/n was convinced he had stopped loving her. She stayed up countless nights, without him, wondering what she did wrong. He didn’t hold her anymore, not like he used to. Before, he’d always hold her, because his arms were her sanctuary and his chest was a bed made specially for her head. His lips only lingered on her cheek or forehead, not in the way they used to. Before, he’d always kiss her lips, because he said he swore his lips were compelled to love hers and said he was always hungry for her love. She fell asleep feeling empty, not in the way she had before. Before, amongst falling asleep, he’d be inside of her, hips colliding with hers because he praised her, and said he’d never love the way he loved her.

But it all ended so suddenly, there was no warning.

She began to feel what she felt with everyone else- neglected.

She felt it was because she recovered. When she was battling her disorder, he loved her because he felt he had to. She had nobody else. Her family had given up on her, her friends left her, and she was left with absolutely nothing. He came at a time she needed someone most. At that point, she was prepared to die, there was no helping it. He was her lifeline, her only dependency, and that’s why he had stopped loving her. He didn’t need to love her anymore.

“I- I don’t quite know what to say.” Y/n mumbles.

She wishes she could tell Ms. Carter everything about it. She wishes she could talk to her like she was supposed to; trust her and open up to her to help her with her recovery. But if she does, she knows Ms. Carter would have to take her to a rehabilitation center. And Y/n wanted absolutely nothing to do with that.

Ms. Carter nods, lips pursing as she places her notebook down of her wooden coffee table. She crosses her legs and arms, back moving to rest upon the black velvet seat she always sits in during her sessions.

“Then why do you come to me, Y/n?” she asks softly, watching as Y/n moves her eyes slowly to her. “If you don’t know what to say, why are you here?”

She shrugs, arms moving to hug her knees to her chest. She rests her chin gently on her knee cap, eyes trained on the window directly in front of her. She watches as cars move during the rush hour, people walking on the sidewalks with a premeditated destination. She envies those who thrive, for she lacks motivation to accomplish her ambitions.

“This is all I have.”

Ms. Carter blinks at her confession, interlocking her fingers together while nodding her head.

She knows Y/n has been different the past couple months. Normally, Y/n talks about her relationship with Harry, how he’s been her biggest step toward her recovery. She talked about how great she’d feel, but was, nonetheless, worried she’ll eventually relapse and disappoint him.

Ms. Carter has had suspicions that Y/n is going through another relapse. However, she knew that if she was, that Harry was by her side at home. It was one of the many reasons she hadn’t taken major actions to help her through it. She knew Harry would do her more help than her, but Y/n kept scheduling appointments that she couldn’t deny.

“And what about Harry?” She asks timidly, “Is he helping you through this time, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes flutter shut at his name. Her hands shake as her fingers pull down the sleeves of her sweatshirt, tugging them all the way so that her hands are completely covered by the material.

“Not anymore.” She whispers.

Y/n’s eyes divert to Ms. Carter’s cautious gaze. Her mouth is slightly parted, almost shocked at the confession she made. Ms. Carter knows the only thing that guided her was Harry. He was her rock and support through her entire fight, and with the possibility of his departure comes the possibility of Y/n going back to where it all began.

“Are you- are you still eating, Y/n?”

Her eyes go back to the window.

Another question left unanswered.


The weather outside is making Harry miserable. So miserable, in fact, he’s refused to move from his spot on the couch for the past four hours.

The house is dark for the mid-afternoon, the gloomy weather making it nearly feel like a funeral home. With no motivation to go outside and finding it oddly comfortable to wallow, he can’t help but to keep his eyes trained on the television show playing in front of him. It’s Y/n’s favorite show- one they watched nearly every Saturday afternoon because that’s when CW aired the marathon.

He still watches it every Saturday. A part of him can’t let the tradition go. He’s somehow convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t, either, and they are some how both watching it at the same time in two different places. Gemma tells him that she probably does the same, as well, but he should try to move on from her; that staying in the house and only doing things that remind him of her is going to edge him to insanity. But oddly, consuming his days with things that remind him of her keep him as sane as he can possibly be.

He sighs, clammy fingers tugging at the roots of his hair as he looks down at his phone for what must have been the twentieth time today. His thumb hovers over her contact number, twitching as he begins to contemplate whether to call her or not. It’s been months since he’s seen her, let alone talked to her. Every second without knowing how she’s doing kills him more and more each time.

To say Harry’s been worried is an understatement. He’s completely petrified.

For the past couple of years, Harry has been through it all with Y/n. He’s seen her at her worst, was there to witness her greatest and most disastrous downfalls and stood by her side during her most amazing recoveries. He’s seen her in all her forms of terrible glory, with bones sticking from her skin and bruises covering her arms and legs. He’s watched her as people began to leave her one by one- a bystander of a broken girl being neglected by her loved ones. He’s seen her fantasize about her end and watched as pain settled in her eyes.

And he just can’t shake the feeling that everything Y/n has built up to her recovery has been knocked down again.

He can’t stomach the thought of her looking the way she did when they first met. He doesn’t even want to think about what she’s been putting herself up against since his departure.

For the first month after their breakup, Harry had called Y/n everyday to make sure she was eating properly. He’d call her before bed, asking numerous questions about her diet and her therapy sessions. What did you eat today? How much did you eat? Was Ms. Carter nice? How are you feeling? It was a routine that was able to keep both of them sane during their separation.

It didn’t last long, however, when Y/n started to finally realize she wasn’t able to move on. Between the constant reminder that she didn’t have anybody there for her anymore and his constant phone calls, she found it impossible to move on from him.

Y/n also began to feel upset that Harry had broke things off with her but still had the audacity to call her. She understood what he was doing. She understood that he was showing her that he still cared and worried for her, but the fact that the only effort he had put into taking care of her was through a phone call made Y/n feel like a charity case.


“I just can’t do this anymore, Harry” she muttered softly to the phone, her fingers halfheartedly fiddling with the corner of the duvet, “You can’t keep calling me when we aren’t dating.”

His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. Calling her before bed was a routine to him now. Talking to her was able to keep him sane, because he was getting the reassurance he needed to know she was doing okay.

In all honesty, he didn’t know if he could go a day without talking to her. Without her updating him, he knows he’d spend every second of his day worrying about her health and how she’d be keeping up with herself.

The phone calls were also the bit of her he had left. If he were to stop calling her, all he’d have left is her empty side of the bed, and he needed more than that. He needed more of her.

“But you need to see that I still care for you, Y/n” he whispers brokenly, “that I’ll always be here to make sure you’re alright.”

“But how do you think that makes me feel?!”

Her voice was higher than usual, a tone she very rarely used with him because he never gave her a reason to be angry. But now, after him calling off their relationship but still having the audacity to call her made her sick to her stomach.

“If you still cared, if you still wanted me, you’d be with me right now! You’re not making any effort to care for me, Harry! Calling me doesn’t mean anything because you’re not here!

He shut his eyes at her words, a pang of guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks. He would be there with her if he had a choice, but their relationship wasn’t working out in both of their favors. In the midst of her getting her life back and him settling in a new job, it was very hard for them to keep up with each other. It was especially hard for him to keep up with her because she seemed to be so content in her new life that he almost felt unwanted.

He still loved her, but he felt like she didn’t want him anymore. She had recovered because of him, and because she didn’t have to rely on him in the way he was used to, he felt useless in her life. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true, that she still wanted and needed him, it still broke him apart.

“You know our relationship wasn’t working out for us and-“

No,” she cut him off, teeth clenching out of frustration, “our relationship wasn’t working out for you. You felt no need to love me anymore, so you left me just like everybody else.”

Harry’s jaw clenches as she speaks, head thrashing wildly side to side, because it’s not true. Everything she thinks, everything he’s made her come to believe isn’t true, and he wants nothing more than to try to make her understand that he’ll always be in love with her. That he’ll always be there for her because he can’t image a day without loving her the way she deserves.

“Y/n, baby, how could you say tha-“

“You need to stop calling me,” she cries, “you’re either a part of my life or you aren’t. There’s no middle ground for you to be in. That’s not fair to me. It’s either you care for me and love me or you don’t.”

Harry’s breath was harsh against the speaker, fists clenched together as he tries to wrap his head around the situation he’s put in.

The hesitation in his answer was enough for her heart to break. The silence between her words and his answer spoke louder than anything he could possibly say to her.

She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t surprised this is how their story ended. Everyone has already gave up on her, it was only a certain amount of time before Harry realizes how easy a life would be without her. She just didn’t want to believe it.

“I get it, Harry” she whispers, sniffling as she runs her wrist along the tip of her nose. “Goodbye.“


He’s been doing this everyday, worrying and contemplating on what he should do. He wishes more than anything to be with her the way she deserved, and wishes even more that he had never left her in the first place. He knows calling her would make her angry because she’s made it clear she felt hurt every time she did so, but he also knows not calling her isn’t fair, either.

He understands how wrong it sounds to leave his anorexic girlfriend of three years, but he felt it was best for the both of them at the time. But now, after months of her out of his life with no other connections to hear from her, he realized how stupid he was to convince himself that.

He’s completely devastated without her.

Living without Y/n wasn’t living at all. The life he experienced with her was incomparable to the one he’s been experiencing without her. She’s the love of his life, she’s the woman who showed him what it truly meant to love and care for someone so much. Of course, being with her wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but loving her was. That’s what made them so real. Their relationship was filled with struggles, messes, and tears, but they were still in love with each other regardless. It was their ability to fight together that pulled them through their most difficult times.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He whispers to himself, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Harry’s thumb presses on the cancel button, letting out a shaky breath as he does so. He feels a tear slowly fall down his cheek, which he’s quick to wipe away with the back of his hand when he hears the front door swing open.

“Afternoon, H!” Gemma greets, hands filled with grocery bags as she stumbles through the front door.

“Bought us some sandwiches. Turkey chipotle sandwiches, to be exact. Figured we could just watch some shows today? The weather is a fucking disaster, it’s making me moody.”

Harry nods speechlessly, his fingers toying with his upper lip. His eyes divert to Gemma’s struggling figure for just a couple seconds before his attention is back on Y/n’s contact.

“Yeah, yeah sounds fine.” He mutters distractedly.

Gemma’s eyebrows furrow in concern over his melancholy tone, placing the grocery bags lazily on the kitchen counter before making her way toward Harry’s slumped figure.

She bites her lower lip at the look of her distraught brother, who’s clearly shown no improvement since his breakup with Y/n. She’s aware that he blames himself for their breakup and that he spends every waking hour of his day worrying about her. No matter how hard she tries to help him through this struggle in his life, there’s always a part of him that will always feel a sense of protection over her.

He’s a wreck, and no matter how many times he tries to deny it, there were numerous nights Gemma would find Harry staring at her contact during the earliest hours in the morning with helpless tears building in his eyes. She’d even hear him mutter apologies to himself, as if rehearsing a speech to say if he ever found the strength to call her.

Who could really blame him, though?

“You okay?” she asks timidly, already knowing his answer but still finding it in her heart to ask.

She would do anything for him- anything to help him. Hell, she’s tried everything. She’s tried to talk to him alone whenever she found him in his darkest hour, even made him cups of tea to help settle his brain. She bought him a journal, in hopes that writing down his feelings will help him recover in the slightest. She even scheduled him for an in-home therapy session, but every bit of her attempts never budged him. He was still the same mess of a man he has been since the day he left Y/n.

Harry looks up at her, nodding his head feverishly when he sees the concerned look on her face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he coughs, looking back down at his phone, “Just haven’t checked up on her in a while. Kinda worried.“

Gemma raises her eyebrows at him, unconvinced.

Kind of worried?” she questions, occupying the space on the couch next to him. Her hand reaches up to his forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead, which slowly moves to his back in attempt to relieve his tense muscles.

“You’re sweating.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his hand reaching to the back of his neck. He nods his head, lips pursing together as he tries to hold back the emotions he’s feeling.

“I feel like she stopped eating and it’s just- it’s just something I can’t stop thinking about, you know? I can’t live in peace when it’s all my head wanders off to.”

Gemma nods her head, her fingers squeezing the skin of his shoulder as a way to reassure that she’s here for him.

She feels awful about how much blame Harry’s been putting on himself the past couple of months. It’s beginning to take a major toll on him, he can barely include himself in day-to-day activities without getting lost in his thoughts. His once well-put-together form has seemed to turn effortless, not cared for in the way it once was. He’s become so disconnected,, she can’t deny the overwhelming concern she’s had for him for the past couple of months.

“I’m sure she’s okay, Harry. I’m sure she’s still checking in with Ms. Carter and working on herself. She’s a strong woman, you and I both know that. Strongest woman we’ve ever met. She’ll be okay.”

She leans over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“And if she isn’t doing well, she would have called you by now.”

But Harry is having none of it. He knows that if she’s relapsing, she wouldn’t have called him. She wouldn’t have called anyone. He knows she feels like he doesn’t care about her anymore- feels like she’s the last thing on his mind. If she were to call him, she’d feel like she was a burden on his life, and that was the last thing she’d want. He knows that.

But if only she knew. If only she knew he can’t sleep at night because all he can think about is betraying the woman he loves, leaving her to fight by herself. Hell, if only she knew he can’t touch his phone without constantly going back to her contact trying to muster up the strength to call her and ask her how she’s doing.

“I was her reason to eat. If she stopped eating, it’s because of me.”

“No,” Gemma shakes her head, reaching her hands up to grab his face to ensure she was looking at him in the eyes, “You can’t put that much responsibility on yourself like that, she had plenty of reasons to recover. None of this would be your fault.”

He shakes his head, gripping the sides of his head as if trying to remain as calm as he possibly can. He wouldn’t be shocked if he lost all of his remaining sanity in his moment.

“I was literally all she had, Gem.” he spits, all the anger and frustration he’s held against himself now unleashing. All the contained emotions he’s been feeling, all the loathing he’s been trying to ignore, is all unraveling inside of him to the point where he feel like he can’t breathe.

“My existence, our future, that’s what she recovered for. Not a second of her recovery was for anybody or anything else.” He rants, breathing harsh as the thoughts rush through his brain. “She had nobody except for me. She didn’t have any friends, any family. She wasn’t fighting when I met her. She was waiting to die..”

“Harry…”

“And I did what I promised her I wouldn’t do and…and now I-”

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to be with her, Harry.” Gemma blinks, shaking her head softly as she reaches to remove his hands from his head, “If you didn’t love her anymore, you didn’t have a choice.“

“But I do love her” he defends, shaking his head, “I’ve always loved her. We had to break up because our relationship wasn’t easy at that time, but hell, Gem, that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving her.”

He sighs, rubbing his sweaty hands over his face.

Tears fall slowly down his face, soaking his cheeks as he inhales sharply. God, how much he fucking loves her, is what kills him the most.

“Me, helping her recover, of course that was a plus. I helped her get out of her anorexia, Gem. I never gave up on her, but I did once she recovered. That’s not fair, I still love her so much. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Gemma frowns, slowly leaning toward him so that she can softly wrap her arms around his shoulders. She buries her cheek against his shoulder, thumb rubbing delicate circles on his back.

“I think you know what to do, H.”


Once Y/n’s appointment ended, she found herself curled up in her bed as the sounds of Harry’s mixtape played quietly throughout the room. It was a tape he made for her when they first started dating, something sentimental for her to hold onto whenever he wasn’t able to be there.

She’s been listening to it almost everyday since the breakup. She’d listen to it mindlessly, whether she was staring at wall or she was listening to it on her way to therapy. It was the only thing in her life that made her feel something; the pure value of it holding so much meaning. The music was the closest she’s been to Harry in a while, so it was her sanctuary.

She sighs, her fingers lightly grazing the window that drips with rain. In her loneliest hours, Y/n wants nothing more than to make her way over to him. She doesn’t quite know how she’s made it so long without him. In all honesty, she expected her to have given up and walk up to his door and beg him for his help. She knows she’s suffering, her body weak and starving the more she refuses to eat. But, to her, she has no reason to. Every bit of love she had for herself and every purpose she had to continue living has all dissolved into nothing.

She shakes her head, unwrapping herself from the blankets she raveled herself in before her bare feet made contact with the cold floor. She decides to go for a walk, or maybe just go out on her front porch to get some fresh air. She thinks it’ll be good for her, after all, she doesn’t have anything else to do besides stay cooped up in her four walls and listen to disgusting love songs.

The second she stood up from the bed, she nearly fell onto the floor. Her head spins and feels obnoxiously light when she begins to stand up properly. It wasn’t rare for her to feel lightheaded whenever she moved too quickly, however, this was the most intense it has been. Holding herself onto the wall, she waits until she feels back to her normal self before making her way down toward her living room.

Her fingers immediately press against her temples when she makes it to her foyer. Her head spins wildly with every step she takes, making her lose her balance once she reaches the last step. Her head hits against the floor, a groan leaving her chapped lips as her body begins to tremble. Her eyes cloud with darkness for a few moments at a time before she regains her consciousness, her sight fogged and lightheaded as she tries to pick herself up off the floor.

“No” she mumbles, coughing as she rushes to reach for her phone.

“No, no, no.”

This has happened to her before. It happened years ago, though, when she hasn’t consumed anything for weeks. The only difference is that she had someone there to save her before. Thankfully, her mom was there at the time and rushed to her rescue. When she made it to the hospital, they said she was near her end. If she had went a couple more hours without consumption, she wouldn’t have been able to make it.

But now, she has nobody.

Her breathing becomes harsh as her body keeps losing consciousness. There’s only a certain amount of time she has before she fades out entirely, and no matter how much she’s tried to convince herself that she’s been ready for this moment, she has never been more scared for her life.

Her shaking fingers reach for her phone in her back pocket. She has to do something and has to do it quick. If she dies like this, nobody would be out looking for her, nobody would find her body. She’d be stuck in this house as her body decays into nothing but bone.

She decides that this isn’t how she’s going to die, because if this is the day her end finally nears, she’d want to spend her last dying breaths with the one person she feels something for.

Harry.

She whimpers, weak fingers punching in his phone number. Every part of her wants him to answer- needs him to answer, because he’s her last bit of hope and she doesn’t plan on leaving it all behind. But a part of her wouldn’t blame him for not answering. After all, she was the one who dropped him from her life completely, which was, quite honestly, the stupidest thing she’s ever done in her life. She practically pushed him away entirely, even when he was still there for her. Even when he still held onto her and cared for her like nobody else has.

And she can’t die knowing that.

“Y/n?”

Y/n swears hearing his voice is everything she needs in this moment.

Seeing her name light up on his phone makes Harry spring out of bed, his hands gripping the phone closer to his ear, as if trying to get closer to her. It’s been too long since he’s talked to her, and he’s convinced he can’t allow himself to waste another minute without hearing her voice again.

But no matter how much he wishes she was calling because she missed him, too, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling that the only reason she called is because she’s in trouble.

“Harry” she heaves groggily.

Her eyes are clouded, the room spinning around her. She can barely move, only the ghostly movements of her lips and the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She’s lightheaded, feeling cold and utterly weightless as her body lays faint on the carpeted floor beneath her.

“Y/n” Harry breathes out, slightly confused and partially in awe at the sound of her voice, “are you okay? I was gonna come by later. Been worried about you.”

“I keep fading out” she whimpers, her eyes closing longly each passing second, “I’m gonna die.”

Harry’s face pales the second he hears the struggling in her voice.

Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. It’s as if the world has stopped revolving around him, his only concern being Y/n and her safety. With her shaking voice filled with fear; it feels as if every one of Harry’s greatest fears are all coming to haunt him all at once. Y/n’s in a great amount of danger, all because of him, and he might not be able to save her in time.

In a matter of a second, working so quickly Harry doesn’t seem to fully keep up with his actions, he’s stumbling down his stairs and at his front door, holding his car keys shakingly in his hands. He doesn’t even bother putting on a pair of shoes or a jacket before he’s rushing toward his car.

“Y/n…Y/n, you have listen to me very carefully.” he pants, slightly tripping over his own two feet before regaining balance. “You have to hang up the phone and dial the police before i-”

“I- I can’t, Harry” she chokes out, interrupting him because she doesn’t know how much longer she can make it. “I’m so weak. I can’t move.”

Harry’s moving wildly once he sits down in the car. His hands are shaking so harshly it takes him a couple seconds to push the keys in the ignition, causing frantic mumbles of c’mon, c’mon, c’mon to leave his quivering lips.

“Fucking shit!” he spits, putting the car in reverse and stepping on the pedal so hard he’s convinced his car will be wrecked by the time he gets to her. But he doesn’t care, not at all.

He puts his car in drive and swerves onto the road, breaking the speed limit by an extra 30 miles an hour. His teeth clench together as his hand wraps tightly around the stirring wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white as he steps down on the pedal harder.

No matter what speed he goes, he has this inevitable fear that he isn’t going to make it to her on time. He feels he has no time- that she has no time- and no matter how badly he wishes he can stay talking to her to ensure that she’ll be okay by the time he reaches her, he knows it isn’t her safest option. He has to risk it, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“You gotta give me two minutes, love. I’m putting you on hold for two minutes so that I can send someone over to you. Do not hang up on me, you hear me? You stay with me. Gimme two minutes.”

He doesn’t give her any time to reply before he puts her on hold. His fingers are rapid as he calls the police, the fingers that are gripping onto the steering wheel tapping along the leather as he waits for the operator to answer.

“What’s your-”

“My girlfriend, please,” he rushes out before the woman can finish, “she’s home alone and she keeps fading in and out of consciousness. I need you to bring someone over to her house please.”

He doesn’t notice how fast he’s speaking until the operator begins to ask him to calm down and repeat himself.

“Do you know any information in regards to her unconsciousness?”

“Yes,” he swallows thickly, “she’s anorexic.”

“What’s the address, sir?”

“168 Williamson Drive.”

“The police are on their way.”

He hangs up with the operator before switching back to Y/n’s contact.

“Y/n, baby, you still there?”

Her body jolts when she hears his voice from the speaker, breath hitching in her throat as she grips onto her phone tighter. She swears, if it isn’t for Harry being on the other line, she would have given up by now. Knowing he’s coming back to her keeps her fighting against her body, which is on the brink of blacking out for God knows how long.

“How much-“ she whimpers as she speaks, eyes slowly closing, “how much longer?”

His eyes wander wildly to the roads ahead of him. He isn’t far from her now, just a couple more turns until he’s in her neighborhood. Working quickly, his foot absentmindedly presses harder against the gas pedal, switching lanes to avoid the cars that are getting in his way.

Shit, baby, you gotta give me five more minutes. I just need a bit more time and I’ll be there with you.”

The five minutes feels like forever.

Between Y/n’s soft crying and Harry’s continuously worried questions, Y/n had already fallen out of consciousness three times. She isn’t positive on how she is able to wake up each time, but she is. Every time she wakes up, Harry is calling her name desperately through the phone, reassuring her that he was going to be there as soon as he possibly can and help make sure she stays safe. However, Y/n is almost completely positive she is going to die. She had put her body through so much for far too long, she doesn’t know how many times her body can keep recovering just to relapse again. Her health was constantly fluctuating between the most drastic lows and highs, there is no possible way it has any more strength to push her through this last fight. There is just no way.

Harry doesn’t have time to turn off his car before he’s rushing toward her front door. His sweating hands slip off the doorknob on his first attempt to open her door, but is quick to rebuttal when he storms inside her house. It’s dark, only a small amount of light illuminating the foyer as his eyes wildly search for her.

She’s collapsed onto the floor. Her skin as pale as he’s ever seen it, her fragile body shivering and shaking against the hardwood floor. Her body looks broken, in a way. It looks lifeless as she helplessly tries to muster any atom in her body to keep fighting for her survival. Her loose clothes didn’t hide how weak her body has become within the past couple of months. There’s still a drastic, evident change in her body frame since he’s last seen her. And if he has to be honest, it makes him feel sick to his stomach, to see the love of his life like this.

And the only thing he can think about is how this is all his fault. He caused all of this, not any of this would be happening if he hadn’t left her the way he did. Instead, they could be getting married, living in their dream home together, cooking on the kitchen stove and listening to their favorite music together. They could be happy together.

But everything is because of him. There is nobody else to blame besides him and his selfishness. He left her, alone, in her most disastrous condition and nothing about what he did is okay, not when she’s like this.

“Baby” he cries, falling to his knees beside her.

He begins to sob as he lifts her up from the floor. He cradles her against him, her head laying perfectly on his chest as his arms wrap security around her waist. He nuzzles his face into her hair, his strong cries raking through him as he holds her tighter against him.

She feels cold, much different than her usual warm touch. She feels so light, too, and so weak as he grabs onto her like she’s his life line.

It’s been too long- way too long since he’s held her so close. It feels as if this is the first time he’s finally able to breathe, to not feel so suffocated in his heartbreak over losing the love of his life. He’s with her now, and maybe not in the best way possible, but he’s with her and it’s the biggest step to help them overcome this. Together.

Her fingers brush against his neck, her cheek rubbing against his chest as she whimpers against him.

Her head spins and her eyes fog as he holds her to him, making it nearly impossible for her to keep up with her consciousness. All she can think is how good it feels, to be with him in her weakest moment. She feels the most alive, even in her time closest to death, being wrapped in his arms and being peppered by his kisses. She feels the safest she’s ever been, and in this moment, for the first time in a while, she truly feels like everything is going to be okay.

“Don’t leave me, please” she whispers, “please don’t leave again.”

His heart breaks when he feels her tears soak through his t-shirt as the words she speaks crack in her voice.

He’d never leave her, never in his wildest dreams would he think about leaving her again. He can’t live another day without her, and he’ll stop at nothing to make sure she gets the ending she deserves.

“Oh, my love” he whimpers, placing a delicate kiss upon her forehead, “I’m so sorry, my love. Help is on its way, okay? You’re with me now, you’re safe. I’ve got you.“

He leans down to kiss her shaking lips, running his hands through her hair as he lets out another broken sob.

“You’re safe now.”

His Throne [KTH] | 01

Genre: Smut, some angst, some fluff

Word Count: 4,430

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Kim Taehyung on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Taehyung, dom!Taehyung, thigh riding

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

Version: Hoseok | Jimin | Jungkook | Namjoon | Yoongi | Seokjin

A/N: This is the first smut I’ve ever written so I’m sorry if it’s bad TT. PCs to vikttoria16.

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With Love And Money

 Sugar Daddy!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff 

Warnings: Daddy kink, spanking, D/s themes, i think that’s it

Words: 8k 

Request:  ahhh yonni omg could you do a really nasty yoongi daddy kink smut with spanking please?


Originally posted by bwiseoks

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Bora Bora - Auston Matthews (smut)

Requested by anon: Idk if you’re taking requests rn or not but I would love love love an auston matthews smut. The longer the better. That boy is hotter than sin and I feel like he’d be glorious in bed.

A/N: I’m actually quite proud of this, like I actually like it. Let me know what you think! The seventh part of Casino Night will be up tomorrow.

Word count: 2355

Warnings: Smut. Explicit content. Probably some bad words.

Master list

Originally posted by martinfrks

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Concerts

The feeling of music wrapping around your body, soul, and mind is unlike anything you can understand if you’ve never been to a concert.
The giddy feeling of seeing other people with the same taste in music the closer you are to the venue. The shaking hands at the gate getting your ticket checked. The pounding of your heart in your ears as you hear the crowd. The soaring feeling of first entering the main concert area. The fleeting nervousness of wondering if it’s everything you’ve been building it up to the past few months. The jumpy starts and ‘wait it’s starting’ that you say 100 times thinking you see the artist entering. The roaring of the crowd with the excitement filling up your whole body, soul, and head. The dead silence of all the lights suddenly turning off. The anticipation of the whole crowd filling your whole body in an overwhelming breathtaking excitement. Those few seconds of the best type of agony in the world waiting for those opening lines. And finally.

The blog rushing in your ears, and the louder-than-a-bomb screams, the heart soaring and feet stomping and screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs until you just know you won’t have your voice again for a few days. The few moments where you take a step back to realize where you are, to savor it, to engrave this feeling deep into your heart and never forget it. Because you’ve been waiting for months upon months for this concert and not a damn soul is going to ruin it for you. The first song you will always remember, because even if you’ve only heard it live once it’s permanently engraved deep into your brain, the thunderous ear and heart pounding yells the sudden change from neck breaking anticipation to the heart swinging, foot stomping voice breaking pure unadulterated joy and adrenaline when you finally hear the first cords.

And of course, every concert has a few songs that take you back in time. Whether it’s songs from their first album, or songs you grew up hearing your parents playing on Friday nights when the neighbors came over and you’d dance till your feet were sore in the living room. Maybe a slow song that gave you a different type of joy. A heartbreaking joy that reminds you of the good old days, of how time is still moving forward whether you like it or not. Reminding you that just for a few hours time doesn’t exist, the songs come one after another again and again. Maybe a heartbreaking song from the past instead of reminding you of the old days and how you’re moving forward it reminds you that it was a different kind of broken perfect. It makes your heart want to pause time and cry for hours on the floor or the safe corner in between the bookshelf and the wall. But instead you hold your head high, unabashedly crying, because the people and music surrounding you make you stronger. And you’re. Not. Giving. Up. Today.

And suddenly the music is back again. The music that makes you stomp your feet and swing your head and shout the lyrics till your voice is hearse.

And then… it’s over before it feels like it even started, hours streaked by in what seems like seconds. You want to turn back time. You leave your seat, or the pit. Awestruck, maybe with leftover tears on your face, or fresh tears. You get a shirt, because this place will never leave your heart. It’s forever engraved in your heart. You’ll visit this place in your dreams, you’ll talk about it for weeks on end. Just to make sure you don’t forget a single detail. If you came with a friend or alone, you’ll sit in awestruck silence on the way home, your brain still remembering and replaying every memory. Certain bits played again and again in your head like a perfect broken record.

And then your home, and you’re so exhausted that you can’t fall asleep. You play back the videos you took. Relishing in the moment. But it’s not the same. The sound is, empty. It’s not the same. You know you’ll go back. You have to go back.

Because that’s what I live for. The heart pounding, feet stomping, head swinging, whole body experience of a concert. Because it’s not just the ears. It’s my soul, my body, my feet, my eyes. Every sense and ten other that you didn’t know existed coming to life.

You’ll be back, maybe a few months, maybe a few years, you don’t know when, but you know you will. Because this is not the end. This is not your last. The music and the crowd will always draw you back, back to a place where you and I can both feel safe.

“That’s not how you negotiate !” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

OH YES !! Haha that particular “batmom” will be me if I ever get married. Fuck the dentist ! Anyway, here it is for you @cupcakequeen1999 (warning for language by the way) and hope you’ll like it, really hope you will : 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

_______________________________________________________________________

-I swear to everything holy in this World, if you touch me, I…I…I don’t know yet what I’ll do, but I won’t hesitate to do it ! 

Bruce sighs and rolls his eyes. He took a quick look at his watch, and sighs some more. You two had been arguing now for the past hour. You were cuddled under a blanket on the couch, pretty adamant on the fact that you would not move, and he was standing in front of you, arms crossed and an exasperated look on his face…

****************

It started at breakfast a week ago, when your husband noticed you only ate your food on one side of your mouth, and winced whenever you forgot and automatically switched side.

-Cavity ? 

He simply asked, and you looked at him almost panicked before regaining your composure. 

-What ? Cavity ? No, no cavities in my mouth. You should know, you’re often in it…In more than one way. 

You wink at him and he smiles fondly at you. Damn you and your antics…

-Yeah well I thought I felt something with my tongue this morn…

-OH EW WHAT THE HELL PARENTS ? KEEP THE PILLOW TALK IN THE BEDROOM !! 

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Never Disobey Daddy (M)

He stood there, smugly leaning against the doorway as he watched you bravely continue to play with yourself.  

“Really kitten?” He sternly said with a raised brow, chewing on his plump red-stained lower lip for a second as his gaze turned darker with each passing second that he watched your curvaceous form squirm on the pure white satin sheets beneath you. 

Your small, slender fingers explored your sopping folds; the feeling of his eyes burning into you fueled your arousal and it showed as your essence began to slightly drip down to your bum. “Mhmm..” You replied with a soft whine, looking over at the greek god that was your boyfriend with heavy lidded eyes. 

Stretching his neck from side to side, Wonho stalked over to you. His large hand gently ran up the inner part of your leg before roughly gripping, yanking you towards him. 

An animalistic snarl escaped him as his upper lip lifted like an angered predator. 
“Oh, you’re such a brave little slut aren’t you?” He growled as he roughly pushed your hand away from your princess parts, flipping you onto your stomach in one swift motion.  

You could feel butterflies fill your tummy as you began to anxiously anticipate his next move. The wetness between your legs puddles onto the sheets beneath you; God did you love when he was like this. 
A small giggle poured from your velvety, parted lips. “You know I am Daddy.” As you opened your mouth to speak again his hand harshly connected with the round globes of your ass, replacing your words with shaky yelps. 

“You know I hate having to punish you, little girl…” Wonho purred, roughly massaging the reddened areas on your ass, smacking them again- increasing the harshness with every hit. He adored the little whimpers and yelps that came from you, listening to all the gorgeously lewd sounds you made had him painfully hard. 
Pulling you towards the edge of the bed, he kept you bent over as he held both your wrists in one hand; he pressed his clothed member against you causing a wanting little whine to flow out of you. 

“You want Daddy deep inside you, huh my little slut?” 

“Daddy would love to be buried inside that sweet little cunt of yours, princess, but you’ve been so bad…”

“Bad behaviour cannot go unpunished, and what kind of punishment would it be if I gave you what you wanted.” 

“But don’t worry kitten, we’re going to have a lot of fun. I just hope you remember your safeword.”

His Throne [PJM] | 01

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff ending

Word Count: 4,430

Summary: You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Park Jimin on his throne.

Tags: degradation, some praise, choking (kinda?), prince!Jimin, dom!Jimin, thigh riding

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

Other member vers: Hoseok | Jungkook | Namjoon | Yoongi | Seokjin | Taehyung

A/N: This is the first smut I’ve ever written so I’m sorry if it’s bad TT. PCs to vikttoria16.

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Your first time ♡ Grayson {smut}

Request: ‘’Can I have a Grayson smut imagine where it’s their first time; he’s being super sweet, he keeps asking if she’s alright and he’s being super gentle and adorable. Gahh I’m in my feels Lmao. Thanksss xx‘’

Response: Thanks for your request! ♡ Ah, I wanted to write this for so long! Whoever gets to lose her virginity to these angels is lucky as hell hahaha. Anyway, I hope you like it :)

Warning: English is not my native language, so if there are any vocabulary/grammar mistakes, please ignore them. I try my best :)

Grayson and you had been dating for over eight months now. He was eighteen and you were seventeen. You absolutely loved spending time with him and he always made clear that he loved spending time with you as well.

Most of the time you guys were together. Sometimes you went to the cinema or a chic restaurant, but most days you just stayed in, watched a movie and cuddled. He could never get enough of you. Tonight was one of those nights.

This evening it was Graysons turn to pick a movie, and he decided to watch Troy, one of his favorites. You were watching the movie as he kept playing with your hair and stroking your cheek, while constantly watching you. ‘Eh, I thought you wanted to see this movie,’ you laugh and look beside you.

Grayson has a dreamy smile on his face and his eyes are still focused on your hair. ‘Yeah…’ he says absently, but he doesn’t stop playing with your hair. ‘What is it?’ you ask. Instead of answering he shoves closer to you and puts a kiss on your lips, opening them with his tongue.

You’re surprised, but don’t pull back. You kiss him back, cupping his face with your hands. You thought he would eventually stop, but his kisses were getting deeper and rougher. A soft moan escaped your lips, causing him to grin. Of course you didn’t mind making out, but you didn’t really know where this was coming from. He grabs you by your waist and you change position so that you straddle his lap.

Eventually Grayson pulls back, reluctantly. ‘Wanna take this upstairs?’ he whispers out of breath. Your eyes widen. What was he up to? ‘Sure,’ you chuckle. Grayson lifts you up effortlessly while you put your legs around his waist. While he walks up the stairs he starts placing sweet kisses down your jawline and neck.

He holds you up with a hand under your butt while the other one closes the door of the bedroom. Grayson gently places you down on the floor and goes sit down on the side of the bed. He then pulls you closer while his hands are on your upper back.

You look down at him and he looks up to you so that his head is in his neck. Graysons eyes are filled with anticipation. Your hands are cupping his face again. You smirk at the fact that for the first time he’s shorter than you. Or it seems like it, in this position.

He doesn’t break eye contact while he smoothly slides off his shirt, revealing his toned torso and abs. You blush and finally realise what he was up to; he wanted to have sex with you. God, how were you always so naïve?

He looks up to you, asking for permission. You nod, biting your lip. He slides of your shirt too and the touch of his warm hands make you get a pleasant shiver.

He starts unbuttoning your jeans, but you place his hands on his arms. He stops, looking a bit confused. ‘Gray… It’s not that I don’t want this, but - you know - I’m still a virgin.’ Your words came out a little stammering and you feel your cheeks heating up. You knew he wasn’t a virgin.

And you didn’t really care about that, but you did care about the fact that you had no idea how to have sex or even the way to please a boy. And you sure as hell wanted to please him. But you had never done any of that stuff.

Grayson smiles and kisses your belly button. ‘That’s okay. If I’ll do anything you don’t like, don’t be afraid to tell me. Tonight is all about you.’ ‘Okay,’ you quietly say, smiling.

Step by step he takes off your clothes, leaving you only in your underwear. He couldn’t keep his eyes of you. After every piece of clothing he took off he stroked and kissed the place where your skin was naked now.

He kissed your whole body; your belly, hips, thighs… You liked that he did everything to calm you down and ease your nerves. He wanted to make you feel special, especially tonight.

Grayson takes his jeans off too. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his boxers. He takes it off, revealing his massive erection. Worrying about how that would ever fit into your small body, he helps you taking off your underwear.

You giggle at his shaking hands which are trying to open your bra. Finally he slides it off and he pushes you softly onto the bed, so that you’re lying on your back. Grayson climbs on the bed and hovers above you.

You feel very exposed and place your hands on your boobs, trying to cover them. Never in your life had a boy seen you naked like this. Grayson pushes your hands gently to the side.

‘Don’t cover yourself baby. You are absolutely beautiful…’ He looks down at you with a proud smile. You let out a nervous giggle. ‘I’m not.’ ‘You are,’ he assures you. He kisses the top of your breasts, which turns you on. 

You pull him closer and soon you’re having a heated make out session. You were complete putty in his hands. While his hard member is stroking your core, you felt yourself getting wetter with the minute. Grayson could feel it, too. He bites your lower lip and you nervously spread your legs so he could position himself between them.  

After putting on a condom Grayson hovers above you again, leaning on his elbows. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? We can wait, if you want. I would wait another ten years for you. I don’t want to just fuck, I want to make love to you.’

Your heart flutters at his words and you stroke his cheek. Oh, how you loved this boy. He smiled, but you could see that he was concerned. It was so obvious Grayson really cared about you. He never forced you into anything.

‘I’m ready, Gray. You’re the only one that I want to lose my virginity to. I want this.’ And after those words he places one last kiss on your mouth. He uses one hand to slowly guide the tip between your slicked folds.

At first you don’t think you can handle it and with closed eyes you gasp at the burning pain. He waits, letting you adjust to his size. He slightly strokes your cheek with his fingers.

Then he slid in more, going still very slowly until he was fully in. You feel yourself tighten up around him while he filled you all up. God, he was huge. You knew that the first time would hurt, but you didn’t know that it would hurt this bad. Grayson studies your face worriedly, his forehead frowned. He knew he was hurting you.

‘You okay? Do you want me to stop?’ Grayson asks caringly. You inhale deeply. ‘No no, it’s okay. Just be gentle…’ ‘I will, don’t worry,’ he says with a sweet voice. After some time the pain luckily starts fading away and you look at him. ‘I’m ready.’

Grayson nodded and he began thrusting into you, never taking his eyes from your face. He needed you to feel comfortable. But you felt more than comfortable; you felt amazing. The pain had slowly turned into glorious pleasure. He starts sucking your neck, trailing down to your collar bones.

You enjoyed every minute. It felt like your bodies were melting together, like your body belonged to his. You stroke a hand through Graysons fluffy hair while he kisses your lips again.

Originally posted by lovershub

‘Faster,’ you whisper into his mouth. Right after those words had left your mouth he starts picking up the speed, pumping faster. He still was very careful with every move he made, making sure he didn’t hurt you. He was worried you were too fragile for his size.

‘Grayson…’ you cried out his name. He had to know that he could let himself go, that he could enjoy it too. Everything felt so good; Graysons large hands touching your body, his hips pressed to yours, his husky breath in your neck.

You start clawing his muscular back with your fingernails, causing him to groan. ‘Good girl,’ he panted. You felt a heavenly sensation rushing through your stomach as Grayson grinded his hips harder to yours, pounding against your g-spot. You breathed heavily.

‘Oh, I’m close,’ you cry out. The sight of your closed eyes and bouncing breasts made Grayson slowly reaching his high, too. ‘Me too, baby. Look into my eyes when you cum,’ he demanded and you did as he said. Dirty talk made him ten times sexier.

After a minute you couldn’t hold on any longer. Loud moans escaped your mouth while arching your back. Every muscle in your body tensed as you reached your climax at the same time as Grayson reached his. He let out a long, deep moan, his body shuddering. His face was concentrated as he brought his pumps slowly to a stop to ride the orgasms as long as possible.

You couldn’t believe that someone could made you feel this good. Grayson pulled out and collapsed heavily breathing next to you. He stroked your belly as he pushed himself up with one elbow.

‘You alright?’ he asks. ‘I’m perfect. That was amazing,’ you say, turning on your side to kiss him passionately. ‘I’m glad. I love you so much,’ he murmured with a soft voice. Your lips curl into a big smile. ‘I love you, too.’