window lattice

My favorite recurring jokes in Fullmetal Alchemist

  • Greed’s constant need to be in charge of very small, useless organizations
  • Roy’s awful driving
  • Ed’s inability to keep his limbs in tact
  • Ling/Lanfan/Fu showing up unannounced on window lattices they should not be able to reach like it’s normal
  • Bradley “Ugh, I’m old, not as spry as I used to be” *proceeds to take out a tank*
  • “Dammit I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist!”
  • Roy’s uselessness in rain
  • “I didn’t just call to gush about my daughter… I called to gush about my wife too!”
  • Scar’s love of tiny animals
  • Greed gradually becoming good and saving countless people’s lives while never admitting that he’s becoming good and saving countless people’s lives
Things that remind me of the signs (aesthetic):

Aries:
Aesthetic- warm fireplace, morning coffee, busy city streets, red leather.

Taurus:
Aesthetic- Redwood forests, tranquil nature walks, listening to old records, worn denim.

Gemini:
Aesthetic- Quiet library, spearmint gum, thin-rimmed oval glasses, subtle smiles.

Cancer:
Aesthetic- Overcast sky, light rain, clear water at the beach, movie quotes.

Leo:
Aesthetic- Gold glitter eyeshadow, bold statements, fur coats, late night clubbing.

Virgo:
Aesthetic- Fishnet stockings, light pink lipstick, white marble floors, white stone statues.

Libra:
Aesthetic- Cotton candy, ribbons, curls, visits to the carnival.

Scorpio:
Aesthetic- Black nail polish, red gems, slow dancing by candlelight, leather jackets.

Sagittarius:
Aesthetic- Soft violin music, black & white balloons, latticed windows, hot showers.

Capricorn:
Aesthetic- Long car trips, woollen scarves, road maps, picnics in the shade.

Aquarius:
Aesthetic- Messy art studio, sunflowers, old books, 90’s cartoons.

Pisces:
Aesthetic- 60’s flower power era, hesitant skinny dipping, warm days at the beach, your favourite pillow.

(I’ll edit it later adding songs and such if it gets a lot of likes 😊)

pdx to jfk chapter 3

I’m sorry this has taken me forever! I’m halfway through my second week of classes and damn I have written so many papers, finding time to write something non-academic was hard. but i did it!! here it is!! i hope you all enjoy 

Feyre Archeron is pretty sure there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed when it comes to conduct with the authors whose books she edits. But when you take what should have been a normal flight to Paris and add a tuna sandwich, a red pen, and a smirking stranger, lines can get a little blurry.

or

the one where feyre accidentally trash talks a novel to its author and then they kinda fall in love

read it on ao3

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

For the prompts can I please request from you my dear...115 and 304 with my boy, my weakness Hal Carter - Emily 😘

Originally posted by from-your-ashes

115. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you and – Oh, screw it!”

304. “We missed our chance.”

The tears had finally dried on your face as you fell asleep in your bed. Tiny noises woke you up from your restless slumber and you got out of bed to investigate. Approaching the window, when a small pebble hit the glass you sighed knowing exactly who was waiting downstairs. As quietly as you could you lifted the window pane but despite your efforts the creak of the old wood still filled the room. Peering down into your front garden you saw him. Hal Carter. He’d wandered into town a couple months ago and over that time you had fallen for him as he had with you, or so you thought. He had broken the news last night that he was leaving town, off in search of the next adventure. Your heart had shattered, your lungs burning as you cried all night. Even though neither of you had uttered the words, you thought it was love and now it was gone. You looked down at him with sadness at what could have been.

He was still wearing the same wrinkled flannel, his hair was mussed and his cheeks red. “Did you run here?” the words bubbled to your lips without much thought.

He laughed dryly before nodding. You sighed, wrapping your gown closer around your body to stop the chill. “What are you doin’ here, Hal?” you were afraid he didn’t hear you but when he raked a hand through his hair you knew he did.

“I can’t lose you, baby” his eyes shone with unshed tears as you flinched hearing his pet name for you. “I messed up, I can’t just up and leave you. I don’t know what I was thinking” he rambled slightly and you heart wanted to believe him.

“Maybe, we just… maybe we missed our chance” you chose your words carefully, the cracks in shattered heart widening with each syllable.

He scoffed incredulously before starting to pace under your window. “Missed our chance, missed our chance” he mumbled to himself. He stopped his pacing, looking up at you with nothing but adoration and sincerity. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you and-” he blurted and your eyes widened in shock. “– Oh, screw it!” he grumbled before beginning to scale the side of the house to your window. Along the wooden lattice which vines had overtaken he climbed until you moved aside letting him into your room.

“What did you just say to me Hal Carter?” you whispered, eyes gazing into his.

“I said, I love you” Hal repeated, before he cradled your face and pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. You melted under his touch, body forming against his. You pulled away, eyes still closed as your rested your forehead against his.

“Stay” you whispered, afraid if you opened your eyes he would drift away.

“I ain’t going anywhere, baby” he whispered back before walking you towards your bed.

That night you made love to each other, your heart melding back together with every kiss.

flickr

(via cottage, steps, latticed windows and bike | this Rye cottage by elleen| Flickr)

The Raven


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

—  The Raven - Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
   Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
           With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
           Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
           Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
   Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Raven

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre and Rating: Mature and Filth
Written by xoxoTheQueenOfHearts
Wrote for my Australian Friend ❤️

A/N: Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe 🤔 Hope it makes sense 😂😂 tried a new writing style..

Once upon a midnight dreary, while you pondered, weak and weary. You were reading through old classic favorites of yours. You sitting alone in your library. Your parents were away for the night and they simply expected you to be a “good girl”. You had no friends so there was nobody to party with, so you simply retreated to the library.

While you nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as if someone gently rapping, rapping at your chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” you muttered, “tapping at my chamber door -Only this, and nothing more.” You ignored it. It might have simply been one of the maids or someone else. You returned to your book.

You remembered it was in the bleak of December. The number of days dwindling til the date of your 18th birthday. You expected nothing special. Your parents had already purchased you a car. You asked for nothing but they always gave you something. All you wanted in life was a black dress, a wonderful man, and a good book. The tapping continued.

“Sir,” you said, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”- here you opened wide the door; Darkness there, and nothing more. “How odd,” You mused to yourself.

“My mind is surely playing tricks on me” you spoke to the air as you returned to your book. You were soon lost in a fantasy of darkness of the night. Soon again you heard the same tapping but somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” you said, “surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -‘Tis the wind and nothing more.”

You flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter. In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. You began laughing at yourself because you had been frightened of a bird of darkness. A bird as dark as your heart, nails, clothes and eyes.

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” You said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

The raven flutted about once more and landed in your chair. Before your very eyes it began to transform. And in a flash of blinding light there sat a man. The most handsome man you had ever lay eyes on.

He had black hair that was spiked in the front. His eyes were a crimson red. His skin was pale and flawless. He wore no shirt, revealing a smooth chiseled chest. The only clothing he wore were tight black leather jeans. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“Min Yoongi.” His voice was melodic, like velvet dragging across your ears. It shook you from one trance but drove you into another.

“I’m sorry?” You questioned.

“You asked of my name. Yoongi is my name. And what of you? What is the name by which you are called?” He stated.

You felt yourself falling under his spell. He slowly started moving toward you. He stood quite taller than you and his eyes were ablaze with lust. He wanted you in a way that was inhuman. You finally found your voice and a single word left your lips.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated it. He smiled at you, revealing glistening white fangs. A gasp escaped your lips.

“You’re a…a…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence.

“Vampire.” He finished.

“Yes, I am. And I have been search for the last 500 years for a girl to call my lover. And now, I finally have.” He wrapped one arm around your waist and reached down and pressed his lips firmly against yours. His touch was like ice. You were reluctant. You didn’t want to give into him but something inside you, told you to. He pulled away, giving you a demonic smirk. “Well? What do you say? Will you be mine?”

You pulled yourself away and turned away from him. “I don’t know. I’m barely eighteen and I have a whole life ahead of me.” You say to him as he moved over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He whispered into your ear and a shiver went down your spine.

“And who’s to say you can’t have that life? After the first 5 years of transformation, you continue to grow like a human. You have to avoid the sun but the night is full of life. We never die so we can spend eternity together. You can change into the form of your choosing. And the passion and romance between two vampires is greater than any human. The two are bonded right down to their very thoughts and feelings.” He explained to you sincerely.

Being there, listening to every word. You began to desire it more and more. He tilted your head to the the side and brushed away your hair using one finger. He began placing gentile kisses on your neck. Each one sending electricty through your veins. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest as if it were going to fall out.

“So?” You wanted to say no so badly, but like Eve in the Garden of Eden, You were too tempted and bit the apple. You took in a breath and felt the words leave your lips.

“Yes, I will be yours. Forever and always.” As quickly as the words left your lips, you felt his fangs slip painlessly into your vein. You felt the blood leaving you and one drop trickled down your chest. But as you felt the life leaving you, you felt a new life entering inside you.

After a few moments of drinking from you, he pulled away. When he did, you felt a fire coursing through your veins. It burned yet felt so wonderful at the same time.

“Don’t worry, it may hurt a little but only slightly. Our venom works quickly and the more blood we drain, the less painful it is.” He took a blade from a nearby table and made a slight incision on his wrist and raised it to your lips.

“Here, drink. This will also make the venom work faster and it will bind the two of us together. And it will sustain you until we can hunt.” He instructed.

You brought the cut right to your lips and began drinking in. His blood tasted so savory yet at the same time, so sweet. After letting you drink a few moments, he pulled away. You felt so weak. You started falling but he caught you in his arms. The last thing you saw before you lost consciousness, was the bright light of the moon.

You awoke a few hours later in a bed that was not your own. You had no idea where you were, but you knew that you were being watched. You sat up in the bed and turned and saw him sitting in a chair watching you.

“Good, you’re awake. Let me quickly explain, you have been asleep for an entire day. That’s completely normal for a transformation but it’s why I wanted to make sure you had some blood. You’re here at my, well now our, home. When you passed out I found your room and packed up some of your clothes.” He gestured towards a couple bags in the corner. He stood up from his chair and he moved closer to you. He carressed your cheek with his hand. His icy touch was no longer gone.

“We are the same.” He smiled. He then moved his lips into yours and kissed you ever so gently. He probed his tongue against your lips and you opened up for him.

He moved his tongue into your mouth and his tongue began exploring every corner of your mouth. You moaned into his mouth as you moved your hands to the back of his head. He bit down gently on your lip and you could taste blood. He moved his tongue to your lip and began licking the bitemark. It was the most erotic feeling. He pulled away and you let out a moan of protest.

“Do you feel weak at all?” He asked you and You realized you were feeling a little woozy.

“Yeah, a little.” You said as He raised his wrist to your lips.

“Here, drink. You’ll feel better.” He replied as you raised your eyes to his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” So reluctantly you bit down on his artery and began drinking. His blood flowed into your mouth. You remembered how good it had tasted the first time you had met but now, it was just heavenly. You drank for what felt for thirty seconds before he gently pulled away.

“Now how do you feel?” He asked, his eyes full of caring.

“Much better, thank you.” You replied.

“My pleasure.” He said.

But now that your hunger was gone, you felt a surge of lust within you. As you sat there admiring his beautiful body, you just wanted him. You removed your top and gave him your most seductive glance. He got the hint quickly as he was already started removing his jeans and boxers.

You slowly moved your hand to him and began stroking his hardness. A sound half between a moan and growl left Yoongi’s lips. He soon moved himself onto the bed and reached around to your back. He unclasped your bra and threw it across the room.

Your boobs were a (insert breast size) but they were still firm and perky. Your nipples were hard as diamonds and begging to be touched. You lay back on the bed and he moved one hand to your right breast which he began kneading. He then moved his other hand to your left nipple which he pinched, making you gasp in pain and pleasure.

He gazed into your eyes and smiled just before he stood up and removed your skirt and panties and they joined your bra on the floor. You lay there completely exposed and willing for him. He lay back on top of you and positioned his tip at the enterance of your pussy. You could feel how wet you were. He started rubbing up and down your clit and every time he hit your clit you gasped.

“Oh~ Yoongi~ please don’t keep me waiting any longer. I need you so much.” You whimpered as he smirked and began pushing into you until he hit that precious barrier. He looked right into your eyes and he spoke in a calming voice.

“This will hurt but only for a second .” You were in such a state of mixed bliss and pain and you would’ve done whatever he said. He gave a hard thrust in you. You cried out but the pain subsided. He continued thrusting into you. It hurt but at the same time you never wanted it to stop.

“Yes! Harder please!” He didn’t need you to tell him twice. He began pounding you relentlessly. His thick cock stretching your sheath with every thrust. You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him further, deeper, penetrations. You moved your hand down and began rubbing your clit furiously. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer. You finally felt him hit your g-spot.

“Oh Yoongi! Oh!” And you felt your pussy clench around his dick as you came undone.

“Oh Y/N!” He cried out, throwing his head back. You felt him shoot his cum deep within you. He collapsed against you and the both of you lay there for a few moments. He then eased himself from you and you let out a whimper. He collapse beside you. You could tell you were bleeding but at the second, you didn’t care. He slowly started kneading your breast again. You rolled over and looked into his deep eyes. All you saw was love and caring.

“Come my love, dawn approaches.” He scooped you up in his arms and carried you through your new home together and then down some stone steps. There was a stone chamber and in the center of the chamber was a black coffin. The cushion inside was red velvety. He laid you down first and then climbed in with you, closing the lid behind him. He wrapped you in his arms and you snuggled against his chest. You felt so safe and secure.

Before you fell asleep You whispered to him, “Will you ever leave me?” And he gave you his answer.

“Nevermore.”

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
   Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
           With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
           Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
           Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
   Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

—  Edgar Allen Poe (The Raven)

The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
   While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
           Only this and nothing more.”

   Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
   From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
           Nameless here for evermore.

   And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
   So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
   “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
           This it is and nothing more.”

   Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
   But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
   And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
           Darkness there and nothing more.

   Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
   But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
   And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
           Merely this and nothing more.

   Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
   “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
     Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
           ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

   Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
   Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
   But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
           Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
   For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
   Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
           With such name as “Nevermore.”

   But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
   Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
   Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
           Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

   Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
   Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
   Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
           Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

   But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
   Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
   Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
           Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

   This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
   This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
   On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
           She shall press, ah, nevermore!

   Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
   “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
   Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
   Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
   On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
   Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
   It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
   Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
           Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

   And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
   And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
   And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
           Shall be lifted—nevermore!

—  Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven and Other Poems

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—     While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—             Only this and nothing more.”
    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.     Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow     From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—             Nameless here for evermore.
    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;     So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating     “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—             This it is and nothing more.”
    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;     But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,     And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—             Darkness there and nothing more.
    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;     But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,     And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—             Merely this and nothing more.
    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.     “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;       Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—             ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;     Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;     But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—             Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”             Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;     For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being     Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,             With such name as “Nevermore.”
    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.     Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—     Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”             Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store     Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster     Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore             Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;     Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking     Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore             Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;     This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining     On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,             She shall press, ah, nevermore!
    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.     “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee     Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”             Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,     Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—     On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”             Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—     Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,     It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”             Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!     Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!     Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”             Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;     And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,     And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor             Shall be lifted—nevermore! - Edgar Allan Poe