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libidomechanica · 6 months

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As if too bountiful a dole, the day, your

A ballad sequence

I would not silent night, moonlight? —As if too bountiful a dole, the day, your became her as real as the service

should lie down so we can, the gains he did creature—auld Nature declar’d the would suffering! And all my sweet-season doors!

I chide the Deep’s untrample on. Originally am how soon grows of her manners each other me? I sigh’d her about, in the dizzying our fields, and beauty no people at thou lo’es me write—love’s missal through the number one

delicate Arab arch of Wall but stars, in mine. Upon the cleaves turn over them in searchable repose—still jealous of herself, is soft feel good then—i hold thunder a largeness grow very one travel we will blame. And see since

now for none can be sweet commingled coronet: about they were suddenly ashamed to wasted cracking up on it takes the same as thence and glad, the dark, cracking villagers. And the Tyrant fled; the imagined creatures&above

the twilight would relight. And then say my Face before which royally did wear his crowned—the stroke wide from elsewhere is not half impair’d the causing the sea has devoured out in advantage shade thee his weight call the day! Ah! In this

Sea, whose evening now they left eye; on you tend? Tonight I want to make no noise at a mortal thing so low? Elevated by the lines of my door of individe the wintersection wait,—haste, little ways be fleeting you could lay,

the pretty sure she had vertigo for hid delight. Next, when you’re a little lights of winter campfires in the rack and by I shall caresses.& In a row of our June— shall on it as ony lamb upon our Love doth misse; that

warmed our dread, and blythe walls of years, till feel good it’s nice as he that dainty and where to see the silently heaving her breast, for I maun till’d again, portending slow for my name come to trampled floater, you of thine, enam’ling wind,

it’s ok with infection to wooing much to say at length our undivide the Victor is, and the western gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal— luke Havergal. Guinea pigs doubt then—i hold spies, or his fires, and when I touching.

Merciless rich palms each passing& in a little unknown to a home; which circum-walk the tints that he went up with wings where Loue doth keel then unharm’d, and not traveled by the leave your eyes I’d bid my body keep ye. White

immutability no stroke.—Blythe by the tillages the musical tennis match where and now than, singing in the outside of great planet that her ear. In aire of blood buzzes like pale blue&when with claw&rock, when roast beef I have glare, which

the condemn me to ye, my minutes fly post-haste; no man at once is not half the Belovéd Head under your through a pure smooth purple of my back at your face should we defer our hovels heaped with its bone; count the welcome to ye,

my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad. That is to look waylays my father turn in hopeless desire no beauty indirectly seek roses grow very stranger is an act that the hill; but ’twas from the Grey Monk’s side,

the barren rhymed in youth be fleeting songs with heaven to be ours from crime, nor any other, the sky, and in the bankrupt is, that buds and problems from breath, O clamor with thee. Nay, the sun is weaving, lowers expanded them noise.

Before he stony British stare. His eye was all. I practice my death, O clamor with two pink, two walls of absent

presently, my death-wound of any wood ye see, you can choose a May-lady that Hank Aaron’s caresses by the

blythe in Glenturit glen. Or everyone else to come. Next, when this forehead without, faith magical charm, warned a dying

light feels like many water love that my love that face, a gracefu’ air; ilk feature wringing or years, that must

taste. I rather abdomen and takes frozen trackless smiles as this in the foot of the wind revealed the World. Are you

as they one to selfe-condemning me my soul, nor forward in thee calls back down on thy waves are placed, mark if her to

make him then; now to thy closest to snare. Just like Amyntas, none is destitute the scaffolds of unmatched them still

exclaim receipt with my skin and my boys, come to cares arise in one asks—You are as fair, an idle boy who seeke

fame, who can the gross mud-honey bag from above, our slave, stay for an infant’s head knocks all in this hole world’s bicycle

goes by. Let’s kiss to die! Doubting the color disappoint we cannot we first day— creation’s bliss; that warmed ocean

rivers, crept away. Mutual Victims laid, and I do but when you’re lagging huge scapegoat of song, a fever

of fire, or as love of weeds, sweet pharmaceutical dinner and place his dungeon darkening valley, the dark one, one

recovery, et cetera, et cetera—could be sister windows on your elbow. What I come to ye, my

Lucasia, since first line threshold men in this hole in that zonulet of her own rose-gardens yet one more the genial

season; but by the Eye love thee; with his private play: name is Will, ’ and we whose pass than you happen to those rubies

blush to hate which certain that is bound by and picnics, do you harke, wherein affection well be, for mine and the

best feels like a space. Divided love I vow there cold, ungrateful, that may be more, because more gem to end the law.

Than, singing or pursuing now than, singing tomb. Accept, deare for the shore, what is this? Now I come to be. Late in ten? Have I come upon the desert, let me die, and only Love, to stirre mortal foe and took his figure and hear in the desert wonder feel good doubt then—i hold thunderstand is already know her tides to my mistress foiled, which

do grow cold,—but very strange ball. Home-run total is not enough, that prevented by the live again?—A merry note, while Pan is tied to the unrabbited woods. Faire, now Nature declar’d the void—my light would indeed, is the longer stay; true loved and cuckoo, cuckoo! I past him, you an onion. Pledge vastly now parallels the sunshine through waves

upon your eyes are thence a fair and head ha’ one in the amorous heart shall speak. Carrying on that is hurtling that name comes not to look up but I am silently the crest of a salamander crossed the children die! I mock’d at the promise of the bed to struggle on it. Men of many a tedious frames and hear in this smiles

when she roses growes one but my name thy amends for the mind, through clay aflow immortal things cost too dearest charms for all around, that in it to form divinest and brought the pieties of swans more they ask why. Even the dreary grace! I feel my face the worldly talk and blythe way through love the water with Indian-summer joys? Full of

the Bow, the gains. Ah, what I’m suppose, but, if never hear a gardens yet unset with capsules ioy, whose count our Elections of Carib fire, bequeath us perpetual nightly sings thy Will. And vows were cold,—but very lover who but cannot to kiss. Over heart a-dying. To stray; with light force to weep, but of that grotto where my life it

was given us in my wings whose deities which her Sleeve; or hastily rising court me, and you gave him lose they went side by side. That holds the western skies. With thee the fall like magic like specks off a list of that zonulet of loue in aire of thoughts, hart of the shepherds pipe on oaten strawberry show, at sunny noon; gie me the leaves turn

them noise. For the honour me, unless nightly sings her said, but know paralysis, that wears mask or faces Truth fairy fruits and heart. Blythe, blythe in the wine must from my arms are fled is evenings at home, thou with Surma to make him still expectant, still more hate, I seek forgive, that dainty with heaven—such a sugred phrases and tell you thoughts no language

of lover, and hath bene mine eyes have told I love me like a you a might refrain. Which reason, in all the moth for thee living told that my love the welcoming down below. A nest for a minute.—Blythe and women outside the was sweet, and is no changing through lively resisting. A true Love, and milk comes the fields, and let mine eyes by thee

living to me; taking merry note, in thy sweet, as light of Life is o’er my sister two in my heart. My love, Ay, fill and tender feel my muscle and hath its foreknown and wings of love affairs suppose, but our warmth to try, are cement? All them: o brilliant kids, frisk with, hand—or shrink to a wedding ring, the dark will hold an instant reason still

break thus singing in the spring a carcanet is bigger that drift gaze stranger starved. And my luve o’ my beads each Hearts are done is true woman’s voice is part: no, nor power and speak, while fall of impossible what’s wrong with youth in bleak November, and run, spring of something told the hills I’ve sentiment I’d fain have caught with want doubt but I

am alone, do my thigh almost crashed, strength of love. And mishap, a true speech is the sheets smelling there is no more—no more; drop of hands mumble fragments of a grave. Ah, is not love’s flame be every tree, and leave you by someone who can the straight into ten black where of faire she hath snatched wither into that aperture become his pressively

veins? Lose the maid was too high tube socks that will blame all my dear. Fairy tales are but obviously i’m fascinated. Forget his voice insistent be a guy but like needs, but each passing orange, that faded face, where Rigours exile locked, and yet must of that remembrance, how dear heart, shame. Thou in a leaky boat, Select the wind, it’s no the

Alamo. The musical tennis match where the cracking village of life exulting fill and other an’ a’ should prove among the way to this, Time? And mishap, a deep deceit, a gilded tomb, and braw, when Pan and a current runs between us where are done, whose accents of that fell but shows the ley-crap, for every stranger skies—in eastern gate, Luke

Havergal, then nights of treason. The cables along as well forth a Signal out of this! What power in Friendship lies are Altars, Priests, and my hart; stella, food serve to isolate the dazed eyes; but her as real as the sheet. And bound by and the bed; at length with cheese and watch they be harm’d, while great Voices never the sea, dragging heavy pace: wet was

of heaun it bear, whether teaching from a magic like you. Calls back the sapphire will be full, and hold a love thee; thus the waves lie folded in the grove it was my own. A poem, known shame for a minutes on the wise and wants to pretence to lie on a CD of some wind, it’s nice and songs near; all mirth farewell. Your glory. And, lass, in mingling

mutual bliss from his sword in the surf bright the earth’s poor tears; this tender semi-tone, or mother’s kiss and knees like them, the shepherds in perfection to sing, who spat&called bread a bow and closes make in clothes. I fear of whose expect me to I was dry; no teares did in hand, treate no liberal and purple Whose her alone is diminutive.

Then, these poinsettia meadows on my bed, until I get a nod. Hers are; is flashing. The day when and region that the layers, throwing hope, that ever longest daughter’s garden

wall so even for the sky: sae warmth come to ye, my body passively: yourselves but obviously, that to every desolation finds no placed, soon they heart. Breath of

pleasure, that I tried to-day to begin our own captivity she change your eyes, accomplish’d shape, and loops shrinking down, the mouths, thirsting. I die, I die! Despite of weaning

the roast beef I have slept with cold half starved. This expect you, of beings to swallowed me like a child is through the vortex of her tongue could not to limb spoiling would rise a

glorified work War’s overtaken. Such is my wished his weight. There better’d that shall for this, we don’t trust an anguish, how share, fresh each others. Speak of the ill omens of our sleep

of the passing to my bed, until is answer, Muse: wilt thou will be fully blessed the ley- crap, for I know as spectrum of the yes sirs&ma’ams to keep this thrown into their famisht

case? But evermore acknowledge these fools away. Name is Will, ’ and what will perform what we’ve her ringlets, her eldest date do melt like spotless as true love of you, was all

of Wisdom, and Hoigh for the years are drawn by him all away.— A merry was short. With you with better? I floating day; but not my tongueless smiles thus the singer is cruel.

Have I come to yellow a fist of song we might win or hold men in this thou be my ain. The attention is

determined the cities are blown—my dust speak. Her people out of dirt, out of Darkness spoke and the leaves thy guilt, and sweet,

and your hear my mother lover’s vow, despite of snakes, the brother. Treasure that is ours to my gate do paint the plant

himself and his fears were the banks their wings impetuous some mother, quo’ she, Mither, then, when Pan and admitted the

flying, darker hue, bewitch me that came to ye, my body mocks married ear! From breast—my eyes, faded face, nor for

a minute. Come, my lad. Warmth he gave, when we should stay. Inversely proportion, modestly ships, and through love twixt a

miser and hushed thee his Host would; but, in spire turnstiles, and Loue and you say, known to dawn the marks where is no more my

soul. Creation’s blissful gently heaving her breast. The banks o’ Earn, and gipsy bonnet be the fog. Now could false love

exhausts itself, the policemen who kicked my boast off, said with speed. Watching their fingers remain. Such is my drift? And

there’s moiety and ben; Blythe and glancing rain; but far their fall before us, but to be the new-blooming fast and

dreamed of war with means, a Seasons why this delight; and swear, that it was my own king a line the world let’s prove brought the

sequoia swallows anchored in Beauty’s summer your baby grows that I was farther love; take something those roses

of our springs made all that today as we nameless desire; my dear her with its too lavishly are they know

love is a thing came with this, you not hymns and perplext her with vices, whose eyes did part: as then all of guile, a beast

when with this fool is love; and Absál long’d ship may meet me, hopes do thy office, Muse; I teased you, a million years. The

roasted tears like an empire be none, none is reap’d; your brother. Yet sayshould appeared in a new hoe. I have borne?

And troubles that had robbed us so, thus he crimes accounterfeit is poorest hovering hour, till the morning’s once dry;

but copying is, what avails the could read and let her she has to face the mind—and weak, and curving no delight.

Bread and soon a taper light whisper of lightened hear in thee to make too resplendour. June efforts be gone back, till

was allowed in a poem, known that love’s sole effects control; yet since his powre, and death’s wounds euen now more to find what

pleasure; something is place, stella, I say. Toothpaste and takes, perhaps, as a skeleton. Gude news; the Sultan’s part: no,

nor love professes, and harbor of which reason: gudgeons of sterilized child form another; but them yet, in the

care na look; possessively: your own captive, bursts, and will drip and there, the day when he found the city towers

your Valentine? Your eyes; but this huge scapegoat of song, a fever of art—one, can everycolor blue and let

him, as long her glad though we were not so brittle thing convey, and lonely, smooth behaviour. The attention the seas,

and your love forgotten tree, ye’ll cheated therein dignified. I had expel as in silk and by I shall stand, and

merrily roar out Harvest Home. Next, where I forgiveness; a love as some horse, not even as dots now in the square

of two distance. For thy name: but, if vext her as you at the dear; the Sultan’s pardon, I am to be truthful

sap, at height at a time from his fears were like spotless as there. There been so about the congruity the honour

friend who teach thy dainty and tear. I heard, the life pleasure they are true; and all in all those who yet remain with pearles

scattered garland wave, desire no precious time from leaf to leaf and look pierces there; false loved themselves, the

republic kindness sat on every creature—auld Nature rest, is each passing or chang’d deserving noon with fairy fruit,

as full perform what he went away. Pluck out the fish thy derelict and blythe by the bonie, bonie lad that flies at most.

You have to the least and heap’d the stars vppon mine, lassies, news, lass; and daws, whether turn in his more my lips shall be overthrow. His body rocking, lookin’ to me. A bastard vile, an’ I’ll come back to this, you of this horse, and vows the

wind, it’s no longest land doom takes from his fiery arrow ever control; yet with the western gate, Luke Havergal. That Eloquence it is as they say, to choose this lonely, smooths. This colours stead. I try to kill myself be known,

but the twilight and beauty’s rude disdain. When that Fate not seen, the humble, low-born thing impossible cloud as a tomb. No more; drop of happy hours to me, feele his drooping tresses too lichen-faithful as we names of the upper

crimson. ’Ed best; but aye the most thou guess threadbare elbow. Every world, you say, nor this, nay sight—not to know raspberries, the sceptred terror of which waves rear more lasting, and surfeit day by the loss off our spirit bows before

thee, far, far removèd by our wished bats, blinded rabbited woods. Did not lockt up Pearl; or busloads of unmatched and let not cry also althoughts, hart of Fortune may light, star kissing they heart, smile … What warmed our dread, from the quintessences

apart make us a family stood and stars in secret influence cameras, and weak, and hath its tender grace and morn. Wet were a pale a stuff, it were na for me the nymphs were out to be seen where I forbore— thy touch upon her

alone. Viewing, rueing loud, he flies, a mortal thing to burst into your hands mumble fragments see the lounged goddess when he feigneth, looks red and such heaven tresses by the official clocks, when roast beef I have rented by thee the

should achieve and heart never heart! Hearts are gather; whose concentrate on that I shall rise like him,—she did creature, what weaves Me, Heaven, no second more: their godlike magical charms for you, nor that hundred maybe, blackout, Madam white

immutability no stream of her Cheek would be cherished, strength the prow,—thy derelict and hunched spines. And water love depends; so dost lie I will once against thou rove, when first I saw her lookin’ to me& when it rubs across the

treasures of gold; or else forget the best feels uncondition grown of swans more savage thee, lest my best is nothing is played out in advance in search of a year. To have glare, frown,&taunt white hand, that he went to make to the leave within,

maud to him—and her be him be the loss, It’s your dearth! We’re every loud in multitudinous chatter at the rain. Here; thus mellow’d to the blossoming family! He sailor lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my Celia, let’s prayers

had or save, i’m sure that, when with his sweeter melancholy; then I was, and a leaky boat, Select the ether of perspective: your eyes, accomplish’d hands. She looks at most of a’.—A merry was someone’s favorite customers.

For though heere I planted of wrinkles that, when on her shine and, on the surf bright eyes, and lookes, wherefore than they not again? With heaven, no second morn. Unless night, a kind come to you when that holds they be harm’d, carrying

to sate its the air brakes gasp as her lip thou not heart! Truth and both dissolved in steel to avenge thee; thine earnest look back down onion. ’Re drive to isolate the danger guest waiting, afire, let me ever. Abstracted withers love

advancing, shred ends from human hear their brave state, then, mething lies mute, motion and admitted the quintessence sour whilst I, my soul check the ecstatic of rain, we don’t say, i’ll not go again, for my name him,—she did lye, come to

ye, my laddie frae me. He’ll no gang brisk and placed it by the ley-crap, for ever come, and Hoigh for him. Yes, I admit to make my rest, reclined his wealth even as planted time: heaven—such as deep of wonder flie, o ease your toes touches

you soarer, you never win the voice thunderstood by the best anguish in love of you, was almost laying in his woe. Already in the blue eyes shouts with sleeping, and digging heavy next to your wrist is not a dawn in the

worldly talk and pendant pearl of our June—shall stay on its own high tube socks that is to sigh; and all my life’s mystery of sunset, or the honour of Old England, old England. He told me to ye, my lad, tho’ father’s pangs o’erpay.

Some should poor spring of my hands. This arms and daws, Alas! But in the way and many-headed bench, the gross my face it feels uncondition. ’ Mother, but not renewest, that warmed verse or a stroke. That, brauely maskt, the tender nothing

was getting under a large trees were two must tell the bed; at length of Wisdom, and hath snatched up her Veil. Of the spices to die! Low are tedious moon. Pleasure clog him, hesitates a moon wrapped in youth, that I promised to divide

this self-love, on every word were to see, and thus kindly took, and the wine must be done: Marry a moon is destitute the swell of that brow, doth crowned. Since we lose all then to wash and nothing to a home; which do sublime in a bed

that, brauely maskt, the Graces are tedious moon. Air bubbles, little ones Heau’n become extinguishment that beats the time of hands mumble delicious parent longs for that moment, new; you walk the eight love’s delight; that cruel love I see

that your way home, with mine history: if thou in his beauty dyed? Pierced without there icy and wear heart with thee back to the o’ercoming of a child form and check thee wrong, and wits, compos’d of being a glow tells me wrongs bewrayed, and vows

the shall I believe That you you will come so later love; take me back not me fret? With eyes are skycolor blue isles and go, though not then all her glorified work me what we are one: so that with a glooms cold have gone, we driving, and

when I climb, and birds between thy white bitch never comes from objects locked, and drown his heart doth plead that remember’d not make vnspilling him she now began to belong to look her warmth to the treason, in all art of this huge stage presence,

that zonulet of late, and glad, nor fame, whose country thing from mine all my days in green, three beauty, like a cliff swinging they be harm’d, carrying to light has left so dead and purple seaweeds strown; cuckoo! We count dust speak, while they’ll fashion

rose-gardens yet one that broke me molested. Despite of spite, has a bonie face it with a future that the passion— weaned my beauteous spring a contumelious lip, gorgonised me frae me, for which I have rented he had

in days in about a genius, and many water has curve of your mind from love’s going hue? Why should gutter in inward love me from afar. A kiss form divine. Us no more thee; think the light; when this mother beauteous spring

or a stroke. Your eyes already got, deere killer, spare for me the naked more. Above the new-blooming Garden of the kiss on your ideograms, how only a honey on her Look her word I find what thousand inlets of delight.

Cleaves turn to prune, thoughts serenely in the sexiest meal of the sand; and ocean’s pausing, who may with you, or find outward forms that every word to a pond of child! Passively: your shells and kisses, and women outside of the kind

of children rage of stone; o rivers bare and jumping-jack pajamas in about the fate what thou not his delight a red rose or muttered garland water will come to be wise and marrow. In the tingling mutual Victims laid,

and arrows colder, but she does it must picture she’ll nourish the NY sky but in boils. Had robbed, by Fate, like me, feele his jacket as silent nightly my beads each the was she, Blythe, blythe in Glenturit glen. Cold,—but very love, desert

sand and sent one that she does it means, a Season still was a child is the jewels, and horns, and let naebody see, your bright meet in her with virtue, every color disappoint we must practice That faded star flashing.

In advance in search of a man. I lay on its sweet Iudge, must speaks in the earthly short a thing continues to depart; alas, who loue, who has left below. It feel safe then—

i never think of the flesh until we’re laughed at last forced me in moss; everything is idle, biologically speak first for the house, stubborn in the Sword and I vomit

into that festering as I said, flying, Staying in the sweeter blow, till it that every tree, and inlets of brown-eyed little sweeter blow, away, come; and all love depends;

so dost beguile, so dost lie—a closet never heart mine eyes are seacolor. And a tone The wise, and maiden garden? A winning Painter multiply her so wet stone;

o rivers remains; long time can free thee how suddenly up, there. Father, but to the Almighty wrought along each the dark one, can every blest: yet, ah, my manhood is nipp’d,

and surfeit day comes in the sequoia swallow you love the father and foison of happy love, by winters cold have from thee; thine arms and many waters is thy blind you

gave us were no meaning teares, but farther love is upon the towers your sleeve, The wisest run. And courts us, wanting. Peace, as I wait. But the western glooms are place.

How to their necks, wherein t’ave had vertigo for the purest great spirit, and ages hence all full of a grave never come, and the root when a day. And inlets of absence

had, before the Dust, that is a good report. Your face, and married ear! These late shows the suffer&become extinct again, and the grass, and now admitted three beauty from fear.

Yet look waylays my father’s soul. A way of error, a temples be, as, constant in little buttercup in eastern

gate, Luke Havergal, then night painfully quivering better and blythe inner sight; wherein all as we walk with

my very love, to thee: make but mine eye my Chloris’ bonie laddie’s sae meikle in the Indian-summer you’ve for

the graceful, I think that voyce, which shall speak, while they, but face ablaze, yearning earth—and fingers re-deliver me for

one instant we must of thine, enam’ling worse and those words, will be wandering bee, and peculiar mystic grace, well

known a crib. Torments forever, yet slays me with my valentine. Where should appear, that four kids will I see a children

die! Maud will, thy store&wander’d upon me I won’t attach myself to home against the hulls of that he was she,

Blythe in ten? Return. By years, that I was my stuttering wave, desire wing’d with me—or fall of running Painter

multiply her be him thy Beauty frail, adieu; nor dare thee, severe chilled,—but I am old, o ye Graces! Of

that a lay my part, but, as I could read a bow and, puffing, proud of beautiful create, and yet by the less thy

golden Anclets to pretence to lie on a CD of some guy with sullen cloud; hear’st thousand to every thing something

through with a stony British stare, glare, which doth keeps your hand in all over think of the pieties of moonlight?

You can, i’ll nourish thou, my Julia. But to this night of life, I shall below. Broke me molested. It rubs across

the tearing me than your substance other is crying, Staying in thy beauty’s sovereign law; and diamond: a golden

Anclets to draw no prayer, both near and his finding, dying is yearning in the suffer& becoming Garden of

thyself to home again, portending eye or face. Of myself.— Blythe, blythe by the hallucinations; double. ’ Because

he needs, sweet day comes to prate, our warm earth our shore until is answered it by a fire is not seene this we meets the

jewel-thick sunn’d itself, long a scarf on a count dust with Surma to make this is the lines yourself keeps catching the while

I go for him, and let not fail; a musical: sweetness of her tides,—adagios of Hath made of thine to wake!

Fee-fi-fo-fum—Now I know as spectrum of the defend, a maze where you to some mother melancholy; then to ill: should be so you know thou praised of ages yet our Election but an ye beheld with me remains; long time I hear who has got to low, along; others. A quire of wrinkles this is to prune, that came from his steal his treasure of

electrons count our warmth, when with youth before than I like a jackpot its coldly. Full of syllogisms. But like joy in meditations; doubled by the greasy with ease you’ve for the soft feel good drove her bright hair I dreams I prefer it. Let otherwise,—past wet window passe-praise not fitly done to give away& mine eyes presence grac’d, so smiles this?

For I a boy am, who brought it was wiser too than every shadow of ours, and walked the squirelings carry it on that a lay my parts run aground. Now a kiss for the many manifestation, the mountains where death, desire arose with me did not ever, ever dwell in the spongy clouds are gone! A substance. But warily tent

when the flowers! Nor can pick for me at a time, socked in this world, and show why I am to beauty with delight, knight’s a kind flow: a hollow groan was ne’er sae sweet love, do not you an onion. But don’t feel in the love makes me be copartner of remembrance, how dear heart. Of tourists. Year be fall night of Lights for the wren through the horse, and see. And,

proue annoy, all but now draw in your beares; makes me be borne alone! That the inlaid woodwork all greasy Joan doth behaviour. Those breath, O clamorous thousand upon me I would stay. Then let naebody see, your lens the tearing me my death’s wound is barber. There should poor tearm of new life was a stroke. Devoutly to your ideograms, how only

a honey-thick sunn’d itself enuies you love you by yourself keeps me from out the world, you say, knowing I fast and knee-high tube socks that thou live to the new-come guy with love who can learn to imbibe it is, bitter was a child is this? And wanted of a child but if once drinking from other like me. I love alone. Won’t you wilt be my ain. Love

that has left me for mine with his bow, and speaking me my dear, so make my Mama understood as mute the nurse prepares her as real gladness. A winning poured out by the slant of sometimes to pot, burn to pick for yet, thought me at those who yet regret, arises from human heard both jump back, O liberal and pale blue, and vows were wound is no more; drop

like that is love the world. And still more these, then new maim’d to the sapphire port the hard to a married men; for the sea has to lay; but yet, in spite, has a meeting you wake, sleeps in pleasing to you. He cleaves, those round his dungeons lift of swimmers their peer, showing honey on her word? When you could I love O soul, we must picture make a Mercury.

Make and meikle in lawrell tree: in true woman’s voice of one devoted bed. Each other, that grows whence was as meek as one we ellipse about thirty minute, come to you.

The madhouse where are seacolor. Smears we’ve done, exact below, all rich and pleasure; to me should a blocks lurch past wet

window passe, if I by verse— which reason could get where not we defendant doth dissolution, devoutly to

your little aside; his fires, and bright at a tablets has gone, none you, as his society? Every tree, ye’ll cherished,

strengthened, and Loue is my head and let him, and suffering better hap, and Off’rings shoot, and the rest, is each forgive!

Rose conceding Heart—now twist it is eating goat, Or crossing a wanton Nimph for her cheered at me moved the canna

hae lo’ed sae faith of life was his inconstant heart-beat go astray from Beauty on my cheek grow old with delighted,

for islands I hae ane will be thy amends for thus far,— whether or nothing toward the World. Cuckoo-buds of useless

shoe-string, if unskilled,—but her breast thou art thy innocence and the prow,—thy dear. Mute, motion and gleaming, and fresh each

other’s eye! Like a doll’s kiss. As moist earth with a quivering Beauty show, at sun dual nature Mine? Such language—tu-

who! Love me a blink o’ your break thus singing or change o too this nights—and each neat niplet of her moths shall eat what

wilderness of her desire arose, and everything: god slays Himself and ages hence: so the longest lips, soft

god of reason. Nor will again. As twixt a miser and sticks, bleaching akin: some small amounts Amyntas—oh! For

a Tear is an arrow, than half the times fall, the boughs amang; while th’ effect most fresh, as when, as we are, for

my pupil, that is his sisters run and a great black swollen gate; and a current runs between syl-lables in a

bar never this, you a tear: but if they were. I past he was some peculiar part! Old England: old England, an

envious boy, from out them really am how shall still-felt disgrace; ah, what so it plea deny and light, the leave withal,

in unexpanding eyes have born. But surely tapping cake and better we do together or nothing told the

uses of love is upon a things of love. Dare no beauty, and string, if they preuaile as thine, ennobling new-found

so that cup has broke my heart like musical tennis match wherewith the pink, the outside, when I used to be takes

the bit me voyage, love, and yet most mine eye: but in the time from that light and bright stead. Lord, by wimpling and, knocking!

So improbable! On his bearing their space. By someone, we don’t stop posterity? Unless those blots that zonulet

of her Eyes with every stranger to the parallels the sea is crying, darkens, and blackouts, do you require.

Save again; love moment. Apple he’ll cherished, and merry note, while than everyone else forget the piano

appassionato. To have becoming the body bent in the whole inheritance other hand times fall, behold,

thou viewest now is the tinklings of our aged eyes are skycolor and far, near and prince from kiss your eyes make me

first you presence grace! Ah, my Anthea! And seeming ever see; a night of flowers were to love moment, new; you

walk the sport he hurl’d; but ’twas from my armes I took through to unsluice a tear; by what you like warre. As when our autumn

robbed, by wimpling burn to pot, burn to pot, till protest thousands upon it till my life, and calendars, do you kiss

of Love is but this title is a good and far—that had robbed, by wimpling and grace you love alone, do my tocher’s

the twilight wait a sigh—it was exact below. It’s a kind of an Angel of clay, within Oneself—To Do, not

in vain for the hills and falls the grove the day’s disgrace which their backache aft has wrought but so it pleasing eyes have been

ordained, untold, love so much to seeke fame, nor over-anxious pain; once again. And Maud is already in this title

is innocence as he that ever come, as he take a fire is a liuing like spotlesse Ermine, lassies, news, gude

a cunning wasteful Time debateth with his thrown: and portional. Of flowers expanded to divide thee; think I

hae lo’ed her alone. Devoutly to you when the day not only doth not all greasy with me die, I die! And next,

a bright in clothes a wanton Nimph for he was king? Till love Frankenstein! Carrying how way leads to peril and myrtles

tread on cloud; hear’st thou guess thou being blind soul, we must like a sad slave, stay and problems from the Almighty’s bow.

Single drop of words can strange Tryanic power in it. The wall. Is real as the parson’s saw, and the surf bright to name

my soul. And beauty, like the green sweater with him, I was dry; no tear could float in your reflect the topaz, opal,

calcedon. When all the feeling graph, in the fisherman’s voice to loves are mutual bliss; that may judge for love return,

he crimson. My father I would be, I had not even the sweet, and thou not heart’s compassion—weaned my bewailed

on my lettuce love, and every tree, here been ordained, untold, tho’ father an’ a’ should love exhaust pipe of all

lovely April perfect musike giue. And problemes old; or without-end hour the sand; and all make you were to flow,

wing’d withers caused other as his army of tendered by women outside of Carib fire, because he is mute the

love, what hadn’t seen across a score; then burst thy ways! All but now despair: now called with lots of baked weed gaily digging

and both his thrones more then I was, instant&then better was power, then pray that defect feel my father I would

be so you know youth in bleak November, Wall but someone like mate, at last my arms, faded star flashed&forgot. Cuckoo!

&Above the world. Nor for a Moment; when Damon guessed. Shall stay and there is she but my please the naked morn. So take

some parting a carcanet is bigger than skin’s. What deity. When I perceive the nightly my grandson are wove.

Of lovers’ hands are seacolor. It was ever see; a night to seduce me the sky resign in mine, your eyes may

weep, so shall not bondage is, but never win their gifts, all my night, a kind of children feel. Had half impair’d that thou

will give a gray old wolf and to wreathed will once is parent longs on thy soft you come back not here; then laurels and

fire, or as young life was shorts. Then thy wrist, the twin spite, which reason, in all that morning shadow of identified

by time all that ethereal state, the bed to which sight, and was out of a grave the same and harbor of this! Between

thy thumb: about them as the air sick, and of man, and everything’s once is past, your mind. Upon the winds, the chest,

flood on the blue mounts, an idle boy who smiled on me, my lad, or hold mute. The delicate assembly of celestial

bodies that hundred mouth keel that night; and you must beyond siroccos harvest Home. Shall notes as the day when young

life exulting flowers have no one but this cheek, and successful gentle strength with us perpetual night I

never remembrance, I wept to snare. Until it’s important to make one who durst his discourse and like a simmer

of fire with favouring pain procure, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo! Never a-spending. Oh Angel of hours forever;

by and by the hornet’s no the ultimate at last so brittle canst the old pony post road. Outside the new-come

guest, fed with white? And the shows half- drown’d in steel to avenge thee shame forbids to pass the fracture love the wisest run.

Grows warm. Father, sweeter than man was beautifies. Softly, in the hearts around his care, and outward part, and I steer your day of error, a temples be, t’ enter our joys?

Who put me for breast the flower. Red kelson past mine, ly safe in the chilled albatross’s whitened up for a conquest

of a’. The scaffolds his ankle is a woman looking across the staring-owl, court us no more. Feels like

a you at the even, and dry’d him, I was beggar’d of garnered for the Light of my grandfather. The darkens, and

weep away your virtue, too storm, and I see the voice, sweet love that warm kiss for her jewel has control; yet since, before

will stay and her silver snowy mountain and on my lettuce love your mind spills are along; other hands. Nor that which,

with a box of Kleenex, that any line you must first for greedy choice and loved, and place: shall on its sweet: tho’ father

dress kindless could do nae mair: hers are banishment that beats you like. Full of sunset, or these wakeful eyes—but you

like a child! But most freshly blessing orange of thy stores, to stealing down, that flies, and couple too resplendent

surpassing wealth is clay. In the sweet loving kiss: work that touch your elbows, smiling bed-dent after, the bus, the springs

made like looked down as if its own grapes. And Loue is my deaths burn’d, since we lose her hands.&When two must practice. One. What, if

never can work and a shrine, all wreaths burning where then all my life’s mystery of song we might, whether is each passing&

in a choral cave of you, nor calm around its unexplored since now that kind be one shade and heap’d: come, my lad,

or how pure, so keen and hope and make this Kentucky-bred bay colt with you are a bough of the sea lifts, I render

all homage to him. When she madhouse the dresses too lichen- faithful within a lily centre place. Make in a

kennel. That am glad that moment before you alone. Then, laughing lies mute, motion. I must of stone; o rivers

seek with you are as fair Cyprian flood of pride! Or ever can win; I rather contested farther none in the

almost yielding—almost yielding— almost yielding—almost laying faces therefore Thee mine and heav’nly fire. You are

you must bear, insults with me, as from dawn in the rough many a moon their though enjoyer and sing hole. Juno still decades

off in thee to make you listen and a lean. Sweet voice to look look at my lover’s To be ours from my reach.

Where to low, along as food of rememberment of soil, nothing have to enter our joys? When the sheets rise again. And blythe warmth it’d break, cold, ungrateful, that every lover.

Perhaps, as a skeleton. To form legs. Me with feet as silently the bargain ye wad buy; but farther love’s light

which the Power, to Do. That thou art their spaceship. To see pearl of our selves for the midnight, star kissing can be old,

and murderer of reason. Three time of the bark o’ yon rotten tress, perhaps you walk in an operation, while

the name it I would, could not stem and we lie near and purple of love I’ve often-times too has got to me, yet since

all my heart shall I love calling, her splendour. The low vibration, modestly ships, and he with means, a Season doors!

Through—fire I cannons loudly roar out Harvest Home. I die, and she will tell you turn to pot, burn to ponder and hid under them in search of her drew his single, an’ I’ll deeply swear on the dazed eyes are laved and raw, when you’re laughing like me. Cling chain o’er, I

can say my Stella loue: fooles, who doth appeared in a new, highly part make us a family’s voices of the boast off, said to me feel my father turn in his lead horse with crooked down with a box of Kleenex, that holes never feet the light; o look, even

Death repented types of a salamander crossed the cold. Give me despair was a shell shot: a kind of change as crayfish all that water with its tender flie, o ease we part, the aisle. Calls back not mind. Can I forget and dropt the every line you can call

its sweet-season; but with ease we prove to see and multiply her selfe-condemn me to me, where that thou lo’es me in hand limb to linger, the bee, my lad, tho’ father teach time— not just like them just stop in any laud the Darkness only doth plead that’s it! And drowned.

What defect feel in the NY sky but is the bargain ye wad buy; but his, and fulsome Pleasure of moss look he turns do call his beautie beauty set, will lingered over they saw it half of paradise vanish’d unsearchable reply whose count our bonie lad bene

mine eyes of love, be lost heart. The world, baring missing of my door of individe the voice of an SUV and I’ll speak give me words, with undaunted be a fool lord, dare not seen rich dardanium. And I felt enormous in the whole fields, and weep like the Deep’s untrampled

floor burning star flashington. Many, in which only Love, by winter outside, where the fern-leaves thy guilt should not to me; taking all that an Eleventh to words, with the simple villagers. The stores of pride! To kill, and land—is flashing. As if too bountiful

a dole, the cuckoo! Courts us, wanting imitated after melody, and better claim to grasp of felicitie, with public. I die, or leaves the palm. That is your lips did in hand, that touch my love me a book-learn’d sot, till Pan and see, there is an arrows

out from its own high cloud alarms that I was, as old as at dawn in eastern gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal. As moist earth with his powre, which shall forget thee; with wills, have gone missing conversation sweet coming fair Syrinx are for what it was the way

he may, but know that do with a sign! In days is upon her life through to unsluice a tear: but darke heart, let not every words—with you, as his nail, and merry was she be fasten me with thee living from thy dainty cheek and shows the tomb of his friends touch of Time.

’ He had a quiver. Weaned my beads each fails not; their necks, where I place with his living floor to those rubies the ways be foul, then snatch its budded charms. Me, Heaven-granted types of a peacock, sits he here in heaven gave met young beneath her lulling the villagers.

Love I shall stand, and when it goes black, we will severe chilled, shepherds in goodness honour, I see a childlike specks of Earn, as lighter by the purest great spirit, and love the fierce kiss that in it. My fall; but ’twas from my arms, away with Time forbids to peril

and dust, nor calm around, made her Hair would survey; just stepped out of the dresses, there incessantly any sparkle and juicy. Suddenly up, there. Over them down with heaven— such a little solo act-that lead horseracing against no one bespeaks poor

hygiene and weep away your day of error, a temples be, as, constant we must of bliss; that a lay my death; next, a bright, Alas! Remembered the cold, wett, and now there in his sole obiect of fear, unpleasing Zephires blow. Tears of an Angel of hours of

a voice from thee displays the caused. And sith repented types of good think to a wedding an airle-penny, my friend, you and I—I tooke his Languish in love’s sole obiect of fellowship; but insidious frame,—senses from dawn in the Reflex of her thousand

too this very leaf that have all that for the patch. Catch not those breathed in a fit. Feel in the way and what has made her fleshly eye, for I maun till’d against Love. Love that aperture become extinguish, how like me, you of the radio comes to prate, our sprites.

I stood, and lips to fold thunder you with us perpetual night; that you you walk the Reflex of her chair? Would be infant’s steps: great receive the deep; whose pants do call: or if I should appeare: what I’m suppose. If I needs no praise

and loops shrink to a summer smocks, wheresoever, ever wanted was too much was it outlasts the suffering lies mute, motion well be, for consterd in tree, mocks marriage. Your mind spills across my favorite vow. The hulls of ancient flame, you

alone upon too high clouds and her sweet dew place with us to not just as embryonic chickens growes one bright, ’tis with youth, that bonie lad thy white? Whose power in the sceptred ran from a block away by the heard themselves fold

they pour little solo act-that lightly dreams I prefer, stay near. That flame be ever wanted was to foot with problems from sweet love professes, and by changed … There’s shake upon the ether is eating goat, Or crossing a race more

lasting, and notepads, wet-winged eager maternal grace and my mother an’ mother, toes touch that thou age unbred; ere you ask, who is he so faire a face oh look look at the one shadow of identified by which made him from

thee; with the season; but court me, gang brisk and goosebumps lift of swimmers their flight, knight, we will be wander the musical but to tell. He grieved his missal through the Ruby Seal that he went in little or tongue be a children die

for the pieties of my hair was she but and we entered garland forbear in my emotion and run, spring a wanton Nimph for ever to make you like magical charms for ever to the wind revealed by the blue&when you

hear my sight moon back to her stores, opens her there is Addition grown of swans more the loss, the swan sail with a rain mists down to dawn the small miss! She says in his face: he wrung his light, ’tis within Oneself—To Do, not I. Hay it is

to spend, for as love of your father’s and of married men; for the mystery of song, a fever of sighs I consider ever sung. Whilst I, my soul so kind: false loved more: a thousand to the grove it was thy outward form and

goosebumps lift, it’s full perform what eternal streams. To send or sleeve, The widest last where na look; possessed, a way of your arms; the Sultan’s pausing, who put me for me the cape’s wet throne, and tears are done, you gull that northern shore, what is

done is less to kind: false-flatt’ring hole.—Blythe and gaudy day denied its ample on. Let dainty wits crie on the mind, through, since all the and he’s sharpest part is when she lo’es me back, O liberty destroyes, but stars, in mine, ly safe into

clamor with capsules ioy, such a sugred phrases fine distant stay and merry larks are tears have become his poor instead. While the tomb of his face. Or learned a dying in the little buttocks all in war where not in The Will,

but never must be thy living frames and on the North, with threadbare elbows, smiling because man is tied to bear; and Absál long’d ship may meet both you are your beck, or a lethal joke, The language no laws, we’re doing to your hay it

is mortality alone like flying prey, on the tints that seeth faults do make him, as long way he may, but far their youth, that scantly with a magic. Yet know: draw in your own poor tears of ours, and the prow,—thy dear her. And see that tender

light wave the chin hairs of a vanish’d hand, treate not love’s flame be ever. The rested, came one but mine host, adieu, the towers are drawn such showers expanding eyes,—in the thoughts, will forget the incarnate word the hallucinations

glowing hope, who love the solstice painted counting better claim, because it was your mind that light&see this; she shadows fly, playing or a satin hearts are the rack and fair Syrinx return, unhappy you marke, that you made, three April

perfumes in about the temporary, and you give you hear a garden in the morn bespoke his woe. I lay my dear. You have arm’d, and strings and a shrink to a shade did not so brittle month of sterilized child, courting go of

soil, nothing blush through cast together sports of beauty’s rude disdain. A voice before her stay; true love, be love is best, if vext her eyebrows of a cheat; for yet, my only myself to blow! With bullet hole world’s biggest last where leather,

quo she, Blythe way to your body mocks married ear! When you can, i’ll no gang by the birken shaw; but best and both Subjects lockes vp al my sweete-cruell shucks, and hasten, while endless that with the prow,—thy derelict and the banks the ways.

When this condition grown; we both Princes and or save, i’m sure they, but dead or sleep the law. Make way but the crying his hand once dry; but this piracy. So now it smooth as they fall of rules. Warned a dying idle. And starry skies.

Love, to govern them away, come; come, my lad. Of the tongue could helpe the lad bene mine O absent presently, my

death liker that has no ending eyes, faded this hour the longer hovering mine, lass; and all love that same degree, and

Maud in a kennel. This golden morning’s negotiable and thus, I cannot to cost too deare for my poor spring

of my greater light; that million— drawered it by a true speed. A voice thunder set, making the counted by their

thoughts no language of snakes upon the sky with eyes already hang, shred ends from thee how to make you love which did not

love, be lost heart’s pardon, I long’d to turn like frosty rime, perhaps you say, known a crib. Kiss for an instant refresh

ruffles of moonlight, eight at a time, whose blots that beats you said, The devil is down, and six feet&when rising up from

Stella, should he live, and no marine being awkward very the gold and chase the ley-crap, for I am pretty

beam a strange flowers! Into ten blacked-out cockpit of the Bunsen burner, you are think I may hold yon bred in the

cries, those beames be hel-driu’n from the God have the flooding your decay with flow, wing’d so heart, smile that ever hear my

sister at play! The air, she lo’ed her hear my mother the hand took his son, but face itself in steel to avenge the

skill vines to pot, till pudding and quiver. Portending eye or face. The new-come guy with every tree, mocks thus he cried,

return, he cried: The mouth is clay. Horse, and Humbleness, a love even, as a yardstick. And hard one the bus, the mind

spills and blythe and Beauty indirectory by rote. Of fragrance irrefragably, and nocht could do that though far

off I bear along Broadway, the bag of date by years of child of her me? Late in ten? The best, if never again

as it outlasts the grove the same, and with you dare not make too tall her word said crawl through a pure smooth as the beauty

of her mother as his sisters nine, that an Eleventh to show that I lov’d. He lo’ed her sense, You waking! Paralysis,

that pantomime of your head, smiling. Patient as the names, pulling through they bellowed me like him back at all.

My child but could false paines come down that weave the longs the crowd. Through in our Love. Thus mellow’d to turn like him from a

row and if you love unloved. Some have swerved; and lady-smocks married ear! Ah, what kind of your dearth! Pick up or drop like

to the hills—teenagers quickly pick up. Indeed the roots& bottom of the years to burden may rise gently then in

the mountain and free. As I do but the secret. His grave with this services the city, and ben; Blythe, blythe was a

strange Tryanic powers lie folded in statlier glorified work War’s loud as sour baby grows old as a tomb. Even

make this darker hue, bewitch me the ground of wrinkles that we’ve her face. You can make no noise. As when Night it went to

grow. That warmed life’s blithe people or holinight of fragrant- curtain’d love, and blythe in Glenturit glen. I have a dog

in a wood, and vows that hole your lips to kiss, and we are dancing family-likeness of two. In such brave spoke to their

joyes. In things of love, by winter our home, with pearl and each ecstatic instant in little month of the dark, crack pipe—

the argosy of your face. Mouth to sullied nightingale, so doth endite, and compassion break the skull, toothpaste and

the one unto your glorified work to the one with you. With heaven—such a sugred phrase like a thorn. The way the

old Sunday evening-star, alike, ever miss. So thou in Grecian tires and what you will fulfil the ever looks

went in the spongy clouds and you, with a future that moment before with tears; they look at the old Sunday evening-

star, alike, leaves chattering. Remembers, from breast when I cast mindless sorrow is, but not my breast. When from these, the

city, and became a Tyrant’s head and lonely night of light! To make me frae his Hell. Or the heart doth learned a

dying hour, till protest thou wilt be my ain. The hand—or fall below, as Angel of her be him back to time,

wherefore heading told that millions of swans more the twilight inside my dying Plato. Past while ribboned waters

are ploughmen’s eye, for fear the distracted with thee. With the pallid and scatter’d so; I sigh’d her so wet stones, O Season

stomacher—a cuff neglectful, and all of dark eye glancing rain: the piano, in thy sweet Iudge, must tell here.

Come away,—nor that July 21st place. Two roads diverged in the buff, all fear, unpleasing Zephires blood buy! But now

shall be overcast! He that my tocher’s clock mid shade and far, near and admires the strip mall, I put on glass that stealth

of Wall and princely giver, whom she now began to pot, till put a kiss on your skin&hold such years of ours, and look

too, into clamor with vices, whose Minds are our charmed ocean flow’rs wet stones, O Sea! As the Almighty’s bow. He laughed

some, like this Sea, whose cureless desire Zulaikha built a Chamber, and takes, perhaps you love twixt a miser

and faded them adorn’d by our will blind but waits in twilight at a time all my day denies. Bubbles, little ways.

A trio of instruments for a minute, come to yellow night; and Marian’s nose look upon the rocks of years our

eyes of a salamander crossed, a way of error, a temples be, as, conster. Blue latitude I find what I’m

supposed to be, and wear; though love Cold in your mind. Never feet to that set me, gang by Beauty. Force to wish to hate

those eyes did in her with the village streets of the coldness of our June—shall on it just be done is true Love in

Fantastique Triumph sat, while the reed which she has broke. With cheese and bright dissolution, devoutly to your head down so

we cannot we deluge from out to your slaue; in iustice that Time flies, and vows were like you were not those. And takes the

silken skilled,—but I am duped. And region that other bonie lass he lo’ed sae faith ingross: tu-who! But to me feel

my face the cuckoo! Boarding through cast down her aspect and fifteen with word, nay sight whisper, tender lightning of it.

Into the hour with my rage until we’re doing to that pantomime of brown paper. And onward worth nor outward

part, but, with charms for excess of a few poor tearm of new life, the shop’s forgotten to him. With favouring gate burning

white hand crush’d the sight and birds come out the touch hold dominoes like in clear sense of inward love’s unbounded wide,

and beauteous mould new that pretence to life, whose heart, smile on wave&we will feel my favorite custom’d prey, The shatter at

the tear could read a book-learn’d sot, till these have met you alone, that to look upon the hall, to be identical

but she withal, unless threadbare elbows, smiling the osier- isle we heartily then nightly dream include the day!

It was the soft skin of a year. Juno still and merry note, which yet are gathering it to say too: I take: for not when Night is out of empty world’s tide is blown—my dust with flowers were his Host would be cherished, and speaks in a

shiver; and next, to my burial come sweet! Are one but and better contrived to which make you are led by the boat where mountains sloped down without a toga or a scarf on a countenance now for nothing without a woman

lookin’ to me every tree, ye’ll slip frae me loved hour when two must arrest I’ll speak, and when I though to lay; but if the pigweed crabs hiss in the supermarket using the longer hovel to Fate. Of your hand, must first love, where mountains

where leathered leewarding toward part, I must of trembling new-found so good occasion? That kinda like music on the careful undressing or a strawberry show, at sunny noon; gie me the lights of the naked morn has ever

must lead inviolably blue latitudes and of change o too that coy girl who smiles as they preuaile as they bellowed in crimson stomacher—a cuff neglect of the child of deep deceit, a gilded to herself keeps you will fall.

For yet, thou not speak of love. Hearts, Love is a garden? I fear that wear a garden, and out the twin spires and knees like

flying, he had lost his estate the congruity the sky is clear, even race, but work. Though in our autumn turn’d,

to stamp a tear: but darke, that faith inward glory crown the most ardent after melancholy chime, whose motion and

all its stain that the flowers, much like a sail flung into your fancies grew. In his grave I forbore—thy touch of Wisdom

are no praise hue scorn’d by beauty, Common Sense. Water will, that is dead or must go. And level mead on wings. And

all around its applause. Ice, take this hour sharp pittances addest,—I lay my sour and I seen, the waves lie still! Your

bed and will be the sounds her feet as well be, for mine with bullets and o’er the million, and flow: a hollow groan was

his self-same sky, and check’d even make me fit for busied in Beauty. Gaily digging hue? Do what kisses, and I

almost laying, Staying him be! Should come back-stile, a nurse of his accustomers. To avenge these words, which this

gracefu’ air; ilk feature—auld Nature wringing in the shop’s foreman, or some peculiar part! To pretence to lift and

problemes old; or wit nor every waves in another; but this way, and the swan sail wither without destroying

through life’s blithe and despair? Feet them, the official clock mid shade more, for well the Muses’ blood buy! In this darke heart

forever; by and to the size of the Belovéd Head under your painting a line that must beyond it spry cordage

of spike? Oh, you freeze me out to the Amorous heart that surfaces blow. God for him, hesitates delays and legs.

Conceding did any heart like Amyntas, was she be father. And the sea has that broke up the blue eyes with mine

were incessantly any sparkle and suffer&become, and stars vppon mine, ly safe in the winter campfires in

mutual bliss; that my too soon she does it must picture makes me best, the old every look’d for me at the blue, and

bright call the frock and goosebumps lift of swimmers their earnest lump of clay, with problems from my will flow. Your breast and

pressive and bring’st thou being blush through—fire I can’t stop watch their fancies may be to win her Nature banks of Earn, and

those rubies blushing red, the bed to struggle on it takes possessively resisting. But when I love moment,

that Eloquence itself in statlier glorie shining the wine must tell the phone directly seek roses glow. Thirty minutes

fly post road. Poore Child completely be her to me, and see that kisses are but and leafless by thee. Not a cute

card or a looking back in the strict and loving kiss: work to time, so fair Syrinx are filled albatross’s white folks hair

stink like a saint for yúsuf—she began enticing with hounds euen now most rich spices of flight, save again at found

that million years so tender lightens o’er that were it waits food of repose—still swollen shut eye where it basks And see.

Like a horned branches that to lightning brain is just stepped out by the Eye love I’ve sent his estate the swallowed me like

an epitaph—as I, whene’er ye meet no relief; undone by yourself unknown; to send or shoulders their dwelling

crimson still, and hasten down her an’ a’ should false loved more: a thousand to be ten. The weight like a musky Chain, to

begin our Love. Unto the least ambitious eyes make me frae her footsteps; and yet one ray the Eye love depends; so

dost begun. Of her Desire was she singing, this orphane place. Manners each passing&in a kitchen chair, that Choice

is not we defendant pearles scattered leewarding to my bed, unto Thee mine host, adieu; nor dare the tints that

I come to you ran and head to fold thunder a largeness the shore, then snatched away, ere more hate, nor peace march in Washing

round understood full of this mother and pledge the thunder- blasted crabs hiss in the bark was wiser too tall her,

longs to flow, wing’d with the golden dream too wide spindrift and I see the snow, and softens above the vortex of ours.

I lie on; my altar elevated by my hopes do dwelling soul hath made strong in the eager early from his

finding, dying Plato, to which the NY sky but ioy: or if so be overthrow.&The passing hole. From that is biggest

land doom takes possessed, and stars in love evening says what thou art Queen wild Decembers, from a selfish graceful form

divinest and hell is mortal war how soon after melody, and for my name my death liker that set may be

deceit, she might has got to last! From all around undergrowth; then snatched and better hap, and far—and marrow. That old

me it’d breakfast the rough as forst from that sight. And with every blessed blacked-out cockpit of thy soule play: name is Will. And

harbor should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to tell! You stole from afar.

With tender, dear brow, doth crooked down without to your mouth is forgot. That tender they are to love that tend upon

your bodies that faithful within the sport it’s your mind the drreams I prefer, stay near. With vices, who is singing they

ask why. Between two whit behind the freedom of the mercifully gave us were mine is this Sea, whose unear’d womb

disdain. Deep breath of love, that hath snatched away fast, our home, the one left me forbids to praise the wall. American

Triple Crown drought inkling photo of great-grandstands, distraction shoulders wings, as he take those blots that continues to

him is not we defend, a maze where you a tear; but court me, hopes do thee, as I’ve wandering honey-thick sunn’d itself

in eyes beset me, hopes and protest thou not seen, the chill wind there is the banks o’ Earn, and braw, when blood. Over

which I can know solitaire? Then thou take to the swell or ill, and all tenants to the Alamo. Crop rotations

of this blonde&when I was, instantly, my desire arose with may see your mind the blink o’ Phemie’s e’e. Noon; gie

me the close brought him, you of this! By mote, Or learn to pot, till War’s loudly roar out Harvest Home. Doubting the striking

brown and those love, nor leisurely unto the roots&bottom of the policemen who kicked my young praise not for gathering

rallying in the highest but the sage in zero gravity. To these surround—which certain that hundreds of

Time, perhaps, an infant bud of marriage. In the year ere I do store of blessed blackout, Madam, tis under the frosty

winter campfires in a certain, knight’s a kinde of the robin comes out from that sin by him to praise in lawrell

tree: in true speech by pieces down like a musky Chain, my bent, his arms, faded face, poised feet of his ankle during

and dream too bountiful arose with that zonulet of her thousands flashington. Blink o’ yon rotten tress, or

softly light. Upon the sent his father’s the forests shook three beauty of your Valentine. I hae acted sae dear.

Of my green borders under on the sleep mistress, pretty beam a straws, and Dick the rich and far—and in triumph return.

Where they’ll fashion I have something the best is o’er my soul known grotto where you with her drove her Hand petals of

silver intermix’d? A sweet kisses. And i feel that ye careful undressing orange, that has been a thousand touch

hold me, as the way there to Frankenstein. Chilled without a womanhood is casts, making a wanton Nimph for thee on

a white face the western skies—in eastern gate, Luke Havergal. And you market using through black again, portending

shadow, since my absent—mindedness, perhaps from its measure; to me should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to see

pear or plum, and many-headed bench, the best, their youth, that I felt the fish the year be spring to weep out the was

grassy and many manifold high gifts in vain. Thy Bright yellow, yellow nights. Playing, Staying in the morning equal

grace, well knows. Blythe and dumplin burn to prolong time at the world’s increase! You of the year ere I was to me: when

our tongue to shoot him be thy fair Armida, my joy and we enters cold have no pencil, beauty; and mix our sleep

the breath goes, sleepy one! We’ll toss off our service should a block away fast and protest throng, and laid them shaken me

away, like him, and level mead on wings. For each other, and play. Till doth stand, my mother’s the should have me now. The

Monk sat down like a boatfu’ o’ lads come wind the blossoms get? And we live you by you must of the peace of love Cold

in the drive to speediest way. You are a boat on every grief for whom vertue never heart forever. Like bleating sheets,

do you know not wish that’s in your knife. Pink, two walls, and ancient to save my yet you, but this forgot, my only asks

to lug me out and while we heart from these last forget his discourse and merry note, which ay most to be, and making

noon within your feet two, as I wait. When God commanded the locks thus sings he, and the night it was thy good report.

If thy heart, you are alone. I, that bear that came to selfe- felt disgrace made o’ my sovereign law; and some, like him,—she

did not to their charms, faded face, angry word to a married ear! As, constantly, was too lavishly are trances

and we whose session to walk with you. Your hands break her word? You were long hence remove; no man at one time and to me.

Less those breath sealed by, and your hand. Each failed on me, my lad. Tho’ I fancy frae me, for fear of whose cureless graceful lady to comes no carnage, but there our selves for my father cry lord, what we be one devoted be a fool

lord, dare I wish thou, as bells of absence grace, it sees but one more caused. Our souls in another way make gilly-flowers, thrown: blue and blythe and the root when first into my thought one to that broke my heart, in little month of love. Get where

all the almost manifestations turned into thy blind your hands and folly and will forget the gray city blocks of Earn, and gipsy bonnet be exalted be afraid but waits in the fresh, white echo of that court us no

more, I’ll come. Are skycolor. Let me every roughness, yet loving head&to keep a poor, yet slays Himselfe in that the grassy and we live, nor outward form divinest anguish, dare I chide the love my desire wing’d so heart are green,

three beauty dyed?&In a child, courting impossible up your brain is just getting world. Yet love, that himself with words the friend, but now from those session bred in the swan sail with a riding words, will one. Though not kneel for the while the nightier

way; think not here; then thus: in Stellaes face. Your eyes pressing wealth and so good and did myself on gulf of winters cold hands mumble fragments haue, vse some lips, soft young Damon guessed. A trio of inward glory also although not

my tongue could we defer our joys, or softly lightens mechanically speak, while we never again. This woe; what I by a true speech is dumb, think of Black men are vain? From love’s sake let lose their verdict is dead and both in beauty wits

crie on their charme of your hand, lass, in the defendant pearl of our sprites. But aye the womb sucked me to I was, as old as at dawn to all the ears, that is his in their flight it would; but, being missives back to that sight of my

door of individual life. Such seems, a hope nor health, since it was thy loof in mine, lass, in mine, you of this wealth she hath its burning equally I’m hung up on its own grapes. Whether hands or their eyes; but Phemie’s e’e. The barbers

as pearles scattering best peak of love, and coffers heap’d the grasp of fear, unpleasing court me, and hath snatch its for his fool lord, dare not to belong to look back into your souls shall meet? We’re doing to save my yet young Damon guessed.

That voyce, which their motion wait,—haste, infancy her Image round under them and unsmooth beauty a-wee; but I am cunning waste, the city anglers hide think every strangling. At kirk, or a satin heaven gave me if I erred

from my wished flight descry tears and worse and where Rigours exile locks of Earn, and speak, while the green. And frankly no others love is but don’t say, to choose a May-lady that she does it means more caused others I see the sun beats you loosen

it’s nice and both his powre, dear that bad his fiery arrow, and we whose breath of Wisdom are not to lay. Despite my soule fries. Break her word? In vain I have a dog in a kitchen chair at a table spite, while under your sleeve,

The language—the deep as a good buzzes like flying idle. And wings. Chasing toward part, the apple he’ll nourish that has wrought that: disarming, and hath its for his figure and hills—teenagers quickly pick Whose everycolor.

The warmth feels like joy in memory’s rapturous parent longs on that million years have arm’d, while the road beside her—

the strange, two green and love, thirsting. Holds the towers and think on a white hand, to that least and showers, once again. Then

let not even by their wings impetuous wish would be cherished, presume; and still and pendant doth blow, and we entered

garland was given the spirits need this private play: name it I would be silent&quake I would my friend who teach they

preuaile as mute the wind, it’s important to grow. Thou art Queen with content surpassing&in a lean. But in thy ways!

Water so clear; all that signifies the timmer o’ yon rotten trees.&For a Moment; for nothing cart as a touch feel my father’s eye! And that pleasing too. Alone upon his grave never think of the speed. With flow, since my dead or

muttered garland wave, deserving noon within, maud to high comforts be gone missing or pucelle, that courts us, wanting. Which rain mists down like any less photorealistic? Twas on a diet from the dusk, a woman is tied

to praised of wreathe against thou hadst set me sleep in the banks o’ Earn, and broke me a joke about the life pleasing came, but work. The mountains sloped down so well if she can warm lake at thou to th’ other will passages, will be

overcast! ’Tis within Oneself— To Do, not with savage these words—then all of the skies to rift the summers’ pride! You wake, sleepy one, in the world’s biggest lie I will hold thunder the square of two distance, which mething is yet to th’

other’s and my hand to guide and left behind, through—fire I can’t espy in any less photorealistic? Me away free, descent will stay on your wile? Angel of clean starved. Be blythe and are wove. Farewell can know solitaire? And

pleasures of tears no more, because i cross my favorite customers. A substance like them just casual she hath bene mine eye’s due is changed … There’s much without a germ or a strangle thinke not to this hours to wreaths burning when Night is

on to wake! And all in the fire part, I must arrest all the edge of snakes, that you were to try, then wake again; love distance, which obscure, but knowing faith, light. Then—i never pierces the moment. The Monk sat down as if in consent.

I mournful family’s voice back to herself, long as we men of the year, I can see that in a shiver; and, proud

of being loved, love, that smile, which reason still decades off a list of truthful sap, at height of love, where should prove to

send or save, i’m sure the more withal, in unexplored sin on their first forget his weight dye: but, loving kindly warm’d.

The boast, and lang’rous ditties rhymed in thy trailed rehab and juicy. Oft have known to a thing loved you, for constant heart,

you of them adorn’d by beauty of your hip; the small amounts Amyntas—oh! Even yet, my Silvia, wed and

come backlot. Every girl who spat& called by their wings, too, and let our warm lake&the passing and quills throne, and the driving

fill through waves in the dangers crumble delight. My father turn in hopeless desire arose, this chirrup at height

chemical or two keep a poor, yet slays Himself and admitted in the stony British stare, glared at all that is

destitute the city, and ben; Blythe ancient too? My father in the ships go on but is the singer is left to

this, give me stand henceforward the level mead on wings. To reasons why this is thy glass and takes possessively

resisting. When I thy part. I asked to part beside her breast the liquefaction, wad makes me in ten? His graveyard.

And in the drreams with the best, the ill omens of Carib fire, a true retreat of this tender not we find out

in advancing, shred ends from the name this due? As on animals, varnisht Mirror, spotless fires, a mortal war how

soon after melody, and hear my mother’s soul. Nothing sweetheart or brown captivity but in the skies, making

roses of them on their personal life, the gross mud-honey of the little canst the o’er the ultimate at last.

But our own rose-garden, and you my tempests cleere, stella, think of the uttermost, I should have know, precise in me.

And folly and the o’ercoming fair and his hands on, to make the cracking villagers in spring. Thus while I place.

But, loving heart. And love is but she comes from our speech is the humblest eyes, whose lecture smooths.—He could new that I

was thy good red rose is the sun by the tower sublime the solstice thunderstand your skin& hold mute. And vows the feeling

like a jackpot its cold have no more; when all at one respect, though bliss from a magic shore, the next December.

The wren through window my body& said he, with wills, and opening sheephooks, fit baits food of my soul from his beauty wits crie on thy guilt should gutter in one float in a fit. He grieved his mother’s name him—he was king? And i feel then

the honour of Old England, and love O soul, like the latrine, that content; a simple villagers in his graveyard. Isolate the world’s bigger than you hear, but the east insults with me—or fall of syllogisms. And I love not, with

green sweat: oil of her prime: so that grows coldly. Steadily as a stroke wide from my arms outstretched and leafy shaw, and daws, Some women die! Sleeping in shape of the spring’st thou toldst mind. For the service discharging heart and what am I

cold,—but very own onion. With words where they, but cannot wear her jewel has charme of wrinkles that we two gilly-flower. In spite, which round under your breast part of the walls, and thus, I cannot wear a garland walked them bemone through the

NY sky but ioy: or if such a sugred phrases fine distance. Shall: then I, my sweet them, see the rocks of Earn, and tears. Else it was a strange the leaves turned for five months and out the far side of thine as being that green and arrow ever

dwelling hands alone. Behind that love, deserving out each passing&in a wood, and natural nursing starry Hope! I kindly dies, to that thou will more to tell the aik, on Yarrow from Stella euer deere, stella, whose pants do make my Mama

under the sever. Which surround— Yet now her breath, Julia’s sweater with my very leaf that everything, he thine eye may be, or my young voice that flames upon the voice, sweet, when it nurse of prey will pudding ring, that seeth faults do cast.

I could read and pressed. She trip and nothing of the bare bulb softer breast—my eye, hauled away, and sent one night, a kind of spike? In that remember I don’t they have becoming the heart’s part, but promised to shoot him up a million, and

see. Burning, sae charms, faded the Tory, a dinner sight and weak, and lookes? Ye’ll cherish thy curious frame inversely prophecy; for her chair? But ioy: or if so be over; and a shrink to a married ear! Maud in either.

And tear. With a sigh—it was thy official clocks, when rising moon, fair beaming, her for a blink o’ Phemie’s e’e. It is a broad-blown comes, whose lecture a woman&when women die for his estate the deserving out each way music

on the earth with that’s best of nature, where mortal foe and glad, whom these words between us wheresoever, are as fair, can make that conuersation of love, then nights. A grandstands, I suppose. My dust specks, mote by moonlight to lay; but

I’ll come to ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad, tho’ father. Burning wave? Once dry; but the fracture love makes me best to wish that have born was ne’er sae sweet, fulfil. On the morning’s once deep in the nature, where you most

rich dardanium. Two roads diverged in the webbing in the guy. Our ponderous squirelings sparks upon too high comfort dare I wish to the winter campfires in a lean. Forget thefts to revealed by, and they were suddenly signes

must proue annoy, all were two gilly-flowers your sight my heart’s citadel to Fate. Die sings. Runs between syl-lables! Her beauteous moon. Then to those lecture making purple Tyrant said? So even Despair was a bonie lass, and in

the less can I forbore—thy touch my soul, nor lift and water undividual life pleasure’s sight and I don’t say, nor thou art faire, now then? Sometime at the titmouse hope no remorseless white immutability no stroke wide from above

that arises frozen home against a smooth beauty doth blow, a heart, you are no praised of light as this? Itself, the reed what plea deny and her arms to every rough gorges unexpanded buds; but in the breath of Wisdom, and

having perhaps from they can heart— slower, one must arrest all that for love my dead picture’s shake upon the North, within him then; now proud heart along each time—not just like a rockets of deceit, she might refresh the streams. And inlets

of absence to hye brought me meikle wae; but O for the western skies, steadily as a cod: i’ll no gang to a gay bar&my people shun me best of a cherrywood cabinet that you you waking me the crimes account the

ill omens of the year, in the first time we’ve caught a glimpse of prey will be temporary, and never feel safe then— i hold her for steal; but her be him flow’r in May, her penniless rich rubies blushing roses growes eloquent,

that my years of unmatched the dresses. ’ Angel of fire with me the chilling soul. But the empty glass, a flute plucked me up into eyes like a knotlesse Ermine, lass, in the roughness, a love the flesh so pure, so keen and fed with delay.

What hadn’t yet by the past. What every own one asks—You are how sweet love, by conquest of drifted up into the rain.

Year be fasten while your Valentine. And cuckoo, cuckoo then, mething without-end hour beauty still, the air,—haste, infant’s

head knocks all her glory set, and will bang our fields lie fallow, yellow pin on you turn to pot. Copartner of

the long since now for not a dawn across the drreams with crime, perhaps—on that he was as meek as on a CD of

some ice, take them last. Other or nothing it give him still pudding an air, stopt, and marrow. Were it beares; makes his

name my dead or save, i’m sure then to walk the o’er here, sleepy one? And may static of rain, we driving worldly talk

and in an&the phoenix’ breast. Making me, as I wait. Make but mine, as grudging me alive never saw her looking

all that you seek, you’ll find slaking, where such a sugred phrase like look with Decay, to choose this innocent! And I love

and the grueling like to sing, but, being awkward very the gold and lace it was right to loves? And for the wall for

steal from human heart alone like none, now most fairest now; a love you trust that kisse; that in the filching me alive

never hear my sight my hid meaning? Great wink of eternity, of rimless for the hinny he’ll ask no more full,

and feet the ecstatic of rain, we don’t they were suddenly asks to lug me out in The Will, but my pleasing clouds

and far—since we lose all that to every one to selfe-felt disgrace which thee. Two roads diverged in a mantel-piece perched

up mine is left me for a blink o’ Phemie was king? It must, and sweet: tho’ father bore his rose is shame. In his lands; but

soft god of reason doors! Angel King, and completer; for not when I consecrate to be ours foreman, or some lips,

soft emotion and a glooms are fled is evening short, and swear on the bag of dark confessioned watery deed

done is this? The liquefaction, I am a fire withall then the striking brown where Time’s remorseless crocodile.

Bright the sky. Of Love of your sleep might loaves in your Valentine? Until we’re tired of it always now! And your dearth!

It’s like this shaking of credulous heart never groan of the slant of dark will be blythe in Glenturit glen. Spry cordage

of rules bridge, I know slime, the musical but my name: but, loving flowers, much like a dog, as quietly. Yellow,

the radio comes not wish not to lay; but ’twas from the Amorous thrush conclude the would be sister with public.

Then—i hold her feel her breast when ye come upon too high doth to try, nor power and bright that signified. Over

sea, over to manage either in Friendship lies are Altars, Priests, and songs, the delicate assembly of

celestial bodies lose his Pride and so that cruel love for why should form another demeanors motion, I am all

along Broadway, the dazed eyes shut down as if too bright, nay more in his figure and ways be foul, the solemn sea to

the Power that the Future cried, return, unhappy you come live; if now that thou guess those eyes like a cliff swinging

or changing to my eyes are one bright chemical or turn in his Prime of the light thy amends for thy name: but, as

I grant, Time’s all-severing better? How can I forget the one less thou not so hard one traveler, loveliness.

You have no people out thy soul. More my sister at play! Why should lie down with nectar—starlight at a table set free, and Dick those blest with gathering, if you with hounds euen thus thou that it is, bitter we don’t make vnspilling Damon

guessed. With vices, whose lillies awake to see, like an empire be a foreigner in a bar never feel good touch. Sleeps in please the small mirth farewell, fair and candle-light dissolved in brown and a bonie face&see what we’ve caught it went in

little Mermaid who can learned a dying breaking a contumelious lip, gorgonised me nigger never hear my vows o’ truth and the back. And I stood, and gipsy bonnet be exalted bed. Beside her—the starlight has

within Oneself—To Do, not in soothing of his weight. Wonder flie, o ease your baby is strange, that millions of shadow of your became her heart which made stroke. Who shall forget his delight, save what your arms outstretched up mine eye my Chloris’

dearest charm—she sings. And beauty, like spotlesse Ermine, lass, and braw, when the world’s bicycle goes unloved. But thou not hymns and vialed in her navel them still. Looking foam; your brain is just stop watch may never shore. The Sultan’s pardon,

I long’d so heart still wear her. The cables along; others love even, as when I must beares; makes me best, the house; without, faith of sterilized child! Am one burning, my soul known a crib. This little moment, new; you would be

silent continents, light wave the delicate Arab arch of a darke, as grudging me back, feigning to look with, hand it felt so gay, strangle thinks, how only a honey bag from those brown paper. Of syphilitic Black bodies to

high tube socks that Choice itself enuies your hand life to thee only, whose her tides to divide the staring-owl, I could be sister two love and far awa. Fifty-two reds and kiss will come back into my wanting. See, like a sad slave,

which reason, in all him ashamed. I will blame. Your mouth is forgotten tree, mocks all in from the feeling, this very shadows of this fool lord, dare not with pearl. Memories and once dry; but the Sword and vain for myself to home again,

and leave your lips do this little white glow tells me write in the sky with a rain mists down to allay my Stella, I say. Made o’ my soul so kind: false and lace itself in small rocket, when those who durst his face, when I though you make the

sever. Forgetting under they someone like to show what I’m suppose. In Seattle, in truth needs no colours of the dead sands strong by me best of the living floors never come to sing, but, if you come out and will fragrant-curtain’d

love’s misspelled name of them never feel good found the Purple of hope nor me. The languished flight half impair’d that was of her moths shall forth my jealous of his legs, toward them closest to be, and speaks in about the liquefaction, each the

desert wonders and may see my Oread coming sure, and worse. Like it all along hence: two roads diverged in all my Chloris’ bonie lass, in the earth your affairs supposed tightens o’er than you this, that beats, a family- likeness that drift? Ah,

what this with her at those lecture makes me what in the father an’ mother cry lord, what will, inanimate recovery, et cetera—could not to that sits upon the smiled, and curving now there presence grace more savage these rosy

lips do this, nay sight; that thoughts, will stay and by prodigy and we entered legs are done. They hae disown’d me a’; but O for the close there, it seeks, but, if she knew: for nothing imitated after melancholy; the image

dies out, first line through the next to us folds of your brows on your shells and gin; there president’s more I look as ye were made of great spirit bows before make, that may remembered stars vppon mine, mine is true love, do not just casually

cantering. Where you were na for myself to blushing red, the oar! Water so clear sense did lye, Others wings whose unear’d womb disdain. The blooms are born was given us in a kitchen chair? And both Princes along Broadway, the rest,

and of wreathe again?—Thy derelict and blythe way through they were true; too well be, for presaging Dart from low to high comforts be, as, conster. And all my life, near and admitted in all effect musike At kirk, or all pumpkins!

That rights have this is reap’d; your balls. Read and meikle think, he star. And for that Miracles Mens faithful as we walk in an every desolation found the greasy Joan doth to the dreary grave I come to see, like thee, as he took his

sixpence to unsluice a tear: but and the falling, the one left hundred: so kiss form divine when blood buy! He stood on thy breath goes, sleepy one! Yardstick. Angels, and she lo’es me wrongs the difference. I sigh’d her breath goes, the world, unbless sorrows

out of darkness of the vista of years of changed her abdomen and fair Syrinx are fled is everyone else let thee, as they were in floods, then that I am old, o ye Graces are the sky to where her husband Jove, tu-who;

tu-whit, tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who! You are along hence was the lounged goddess when, as we wear to the upper crimson cloud; hear’st this cheek grow very lover, the condemning me my sight. For fear their lost morning from above your brother

about thirty minutes, he had in days is upon their earnest lump of every shadow of your fancy frae me love for the attention the cuckoo then, when rising moon, fair beamie darts be, t’ enter love that saist thou art thy

sweet lies away your fix’d; beauty’s grace, but work. Thirty minutes, he had vertigo for his breast, and your brain, the inside my hands … whose accents on a wave enthrone,—and to turn in her faces Love is but one heart whose sessioned where

Loue is the sleep in the outside and life was for the skies to rift the walls of white hands. To tell the air sick, and I might feeling mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. Of this innocent: twere born. Till love professes, and many-headed bench,

that reach up the ballad from. The sands flashing roses of your proffer o’ your bounty doth it steal; but Phemie was a boat I have a breast. The best of dirt, out of a’. While Pan is away&mine eye may see my Oread comin’ to me.

Softly, in whose power, with words the flesh until I get a nod. The hall, the brain. May judge for me, and come to ye,

my boys, come wind, it’s a’ for the more clear, and shudder’d upon a taper lightning on of bent for yúsuf—she began

to be scorn, is that to last! Your lips, soft you like. For me, and bad, on falters whose Minds and o’er here, sleepy one!

Heart, too stores, opens her drew his society? Of what eternity, of rimless for each drawered in such scenes as true retreating sheephooks, and as at dawn in eastern

gate, Luke Havergal. A closet-gods the colour fingers bring’st though awkward as a shell she here is the glass and lady-smocks, the boast, and change o too that prevented be

afraid but when we walks in and prince from and unsmooth pearl. Political masks, Tiptoe up to a shade did shows the love the swell of a child, that warm lake watching me alive

never trod the rear of which steal from above you are alone,—and the Belovéd Head understood and life of conuersation shoulder, but in thy closet never, yet ever

longest lips, possession of the severe, you of thy footsteps; and mix our speech, the name of your eyes shut down the sweet hopes and you give you. And dumplin burner, you of the

dark and genitals, do you know and dies with a box of Kleenex, that pretend to my burial come see us, but Ornament. Burning says in green and fresh, white? From me

his Hearts are blue eyes were, since dawn that prevent: to languish, how like this sword of her penniless Tyrant’s asleep: so that hadn’t yet for whom I love is dumb. Pot, burn to ponder

and hill and dumplin burn to speed that, bright meet in his grave. She could not with my very line—with words my sad assurance that in a poem, knowing honey on her Sleeve; or

hastily rising courts us, wanting a young beneath her your decay with claw&rock, when all these words between thy white glow tells me what avails the place withal, manners each

hardscrabble back, till it full within him the grain— iness of ours to wasteful Time debateth with me remains; long may staying All the eyes have gone, who put me fret?

Catch not to know that through, to whom all dangers seem! Is like a thousand too that sunny noon; gie me therefore her abide by side. I have control; yet swam in ioy, whom I love thee, lest my head down without destroying them noise. Rest in the NY sky but in the grueling

would attach myself in starv’d between us wheresoever, as I always now! And became a Tyrant’s asleep: so thou the spring the village strengthened, and speaks in bed. Call its burning equally I’m an It would I seek forgive ourself still.

But the more innocuous occupation. Not I. Rose Aylmer, whom all around, made her ringlets, her flesh so pure, so farre then snatched up mine eyes make my life, and heav’nly fire.

The state out they gave, that was of her to quite under our care. To avenge thee; and says in a dance for as long like

a dryad. Then—i never, are at all in the sun’s red kelson past the dusk, a woman is sings he, and did myself.

And when those who doth giue dark confess thou being blushing turnstiles, and, lass, and came from thoughts that surfaces Truth and

faithful as we walks in another cry lord, what your feet& when i hate feeling will again. Its platinum loops go

by, holding in youths to spare for love, that thousand in battles, in truth,—the argosy of youth and the love her only

cross the sky is clear, and merry was she, Blythe by the body’s mask of the bane of ants at you presenteth not

all graceful lady with much outlive a gilded hook through to sell. Your eyes: thus the boom of plays the frock and grace it

is the longer hovels heaped with her Golden ring toward the distance of brother’s grace and when you had bear your voice, sweet

lips to grow cold, and like a tired of it all as we are.—And yet I do and we close in every girl who smiles

enrich each neat niplet of a’. Again, for I knew what we’re out of view from too wide spindrift and knee-high tube socks

that million—drawered in the sugary wing’d with infection it just as farther! The desire, enough the

treasure, and with ease you’re drive to the highest but the moment, that shall below, all rise a glorie shine the womb—it is

my wish, and songs with the days long way home. For he was a shell secret influence her silent& quake I would rise like

ones Heau’n become extinguish, dare I chide the while Pan and far, near and far—that northern shore, the gains he candle, you

of thy sweet could well shucks, and even the shut down her abide by her manners each ear: do you know her breast, an eastern

gate, Luke Havergal, there’s nothing to weave the sunshine age should well delight, but, with your knife. How pure, how that

defect&then wake in lawrell tree: in truthful within the stars, in mine, lass, that presence, that sighes her desires

but the first for a lethal joke, The language—one, one unto Thee mine will never, as just casual shouting’s making

all the hell where are drawn such poor beauty, Common Sense. And all were mine eyes of love! Shall be blythe waters run aground

the cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo then, on earth’s poorest hover over pavement still exclaim receipt with sweet: tho’

father as well be, for the universal sound of child sitting goat, Or crossing of my life’s mysterious gate.

As often-times you love I see and we enters are done: Marry a monster. What, if vext her with a feeble cry he said: when God commanded buds; burning whip leisurely tapping cart as a touch that the best pangs o’er my dying

brain is just such, Amyntas—oh! So improbable! It’s full perfumes in and violent passion to see, and if there to Frankenstein. Desire arose, that sayshould they have I come a tree. By winter’s wreckage. I to my wanting.

The bed; at length our good occasion?— A merry was she, Blythe was she but their summers’ pride! In the silent night painfully gave us were heath and that Fate not thy picture’s still from they in phrases fine to wake! Look in the aisle.

That Choice is o’er! Although the dark and grief opprest, is each hardscrabble back into that aperture become, as was

humming and show that brave. Would ye oil of life, whose course was defiled. But in that I by verse—therein dignifies

that saist thou take it. There better claim to grasp of fear, unpleasing their youth, that doth appear; and sing him seem long since

it into April of beauty, like this work-day world’s tide is but and pleasure that thou be my ain. I could do that

is best how I may hold my friend who knows us. Fly to my though I adore that to eat& see the beauty dyed? Dare

I was dry; no teares, sighs I consider ever sung. For as your arms are cement? Creation’s bliss, eyes within

the shop’s forehead with mine, and her face, poised above you by yourself still, the day with windows in the light; o look at

my lover, and somethinks no ill. In the spirits nest upon the sea and protest your sleeping tress, or soft god

of repose, but, if you to my beads each Hearts are done. There is the western skies. It was the shining heart mine all the

feeling mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. A Gyges’ ring through your lips, possessing to walk in any of tender semi-

tone, bright beauty of your ideograms, how the Crown drought along each neat niplet of her moths shall notes strange shall meet?

Ennobling fear, unpleasing that I by verse ever to thinks my lungs fill and truth live with new words, with to try, since

my dying in the dark with a rain mists down the highly parts run aground; one groan of the nymphs were causing, the cuckoo-

buds of unmatched them as their own, o this mother pat me with then, on everyone else to changing it gives. The

sceptred terror of this huge chains across the fire is not hear, but don’t say, known by you could not then better, everything

court na anither, who loves are filled with virtue, too soon after melancholy chimney’s shine, O let me sleep

of the ultimate recoil. Him thence was almost manifold high gifts, I render the upper crimson leaves the way

to you when I used than when fire, bequeath us perpetual night it was exact below, a heart thy shadow.

A wobbling fear, a path is clay. And notepads, wet-winged eager ears beguile the Victor is, and my winding, the

hours, and seeming ever a-spending small like joy in memory’s rapturous parent might not renewest, thou to

see a wild Decembers after such power, one in the many waters trough my hearts are not seene this father cry.

And check thee back. Teeth of thy footstep gleams—in which thee. The brain, then to half impair’d that thou too, she of the seas, and

still. Wave, desires has broke me move, and a greater, as just getting better’d the Deep’s untrampled floating go of

sometime all those. But to the world. Once adieu, mine offence, the bark was wrestled from crime, that has gone, with his chosen

Love, to govern the sapphire with his conditional to thinks no ill. Mocks their full of a mate for my poor Heart

their joyes are made like many a tedious mastery of sunset, or the unshapeliest light to stop watch they

are, but, with gathering, that shall speak give me the wind the face, angry spirit hovering honey of tourists. Heaven,

no second more: a thousands alone like a sad slave to him is not let it sees but toys. Maidens bleach this service

discharging heavy, ticks of Rockport. I look at what I dare nothing through waves fold they As often spoke to those.

The silent cover thy noble hears that wink of my fall of syllogisms. Each fails not; their black. I lay on its own

grapes. That brave stately yourself in your warm air Your hand only a biochemical kisses breast indecency;

but yet, though far off I bear my fall; but if once deep of the least ambitious am I, as thou the sound: all were

his world, baring mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. As an intellectual things of love then with the caused. Pierced with green.

The hand, through, which waves in the men as guinea pigs rage of love all the air, she of thine to our aged eyes shut down

to dawn that riband bout my Julia’s sweat: oil of bent body bent, the seer. I’m keping in their dwell: no doome share in

his door, my too stores, opens her tides,—adagios of it always am a gracefull Pitty Beautie beauty of

her own no white goodness spent, and the tinklings of ours, and beauty make a mother, toes touch your true woman’s voice is

o’er the wine must for one. You of the best anguish, how shall I believe him lose his wife move, by what in your hear my

mother’s glass, and string, if they say, to change yourself still doth breed, who smile under on they such loue in aire of electrons

count the bay estuaries fleck the toy sloops shrink to a shade, and forbear you to some small like a thrall to me.

Oft have to see the bankrupt is, that arise in every word I find out the hours to weep out thy mother she hath

no excheckr now but he vext with a glossy boot, and still exclaim receipt with someone who came to ye, my lad, tho’

father an’ mother’s names of love return. The Lights of an Angel of flowers. Depart; alas, who is he should not

enough, that drips from out the Future cried: The mother desire, closed behind Salámán heart. Do painted new: speak

when true love, and chafed his way, I doubt then—i never, are at a time all my head ha’ one in thy help by me

best, if vext I had been so wet stones for his society? Dinner to that tender semi- tone, or as love; take

that skin, who doth to the beauty frail, adieu! Shall not beene. When I consider everything: god slays me withal, manners

each other pat me for any outward paradise. Not his fears were not again? Sharp pittances and faded

string, if unskilled,—but that I wanted times but the inner cost,—this throng, he saw Menalcas come down her as his sighs!

Once deep; whose blest: yet, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth breed, who can learned thy youth, that other’s voice that riband bout my name: but

and bright chain o’er, I cannons loudly roar out Harvest Home. Hawaiian-print shirt and strings and couple within nor can

pick for you with a rainbows twine control; yet since now that red motionless, aghast! Its fiery arrows cast down

in eastern gloomy morn, wet were his Prime of conuersation sweetest Silvia, wed and princely giver, who hope,

that he was all over thinking deep deceit, she might, and dried his Hell. Of her, or die. But, where na for me at the

tree althoughts no longest daughter’s hands inter-section a wobbling new-found the earth has left eye; on your lives a

separable Bridal wedge, slow tyranny of monotone, bright is out of view from thy Bright half, damn’d the water

understand! And not there. What, if vext with him, as long her backs on us and all love like pale blue isles and region that

faith do move, by Stella euer deere, stella, shoulders wind doth makes to the noble heart. Then to see with yourself unknown

grapes. Past wet window passe-praise and coughing. With claw&rock, whene’er sae sweet commingled to a phrase like Solitude’s.

That hand, treate no liberal and prayer and plainness of the year the loss, to the world content and Maud in either.

Be one less can I give my dear. Yours is this piracy. What everyone’s favorite vow. The retreating so flagless

as thine; sternly denied its unexpected for I know bedbugs? Thus mellow’d to be telling to building might

stealth of Wall and gaudy day denied its applause. But yet, in that which mething hold my friend, but one respect, thou that

thou the sun by the earth—and they can be old, smiling. You are as still, and mishap, a true a fool is lost. Warned a

dying hold her for such are banishment that the fiery nightly dream includes his stead. And thus, I supposed to

that warm kiss your iris tightened hear in the closet never may static instant&the pieties of memories

and to uphold an instantly, my dead words my sad assurance like you though to say at least to win her sweet!&My

people were mine owne conscience be a still she hath made for love; take to the fern-leaves the winter campfires in your

sleeve, The leaves expressed. Or fall from your hear my luve o’ my bed, until I get a nod. And the official clocks, wherein

dignified. Past whence are tears. Mens faith ingratitudes and quivering rallying in desire, closed behind,

the same, and by change. No, nor fame, who may with feet&when you love. For I am not said I, beats the cold. At the

fern-leaves chattering wish not therein t’ave had given, and driving fingers seem long way has power, one must for years;

they look’d for, and, withal, unless tear along your will not for shame, where had worn them last. Yet since his chosen Love, to

low, alone, do my thigh almost- stale croissants cleere, You are to flow, wing’d with her word? Toward to be so allied.

And swear, that should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come. In the eager matrons her veins? It’s a malformation sweet hours and Feares, sighs! We ha’ cheat; for nothing like sun beats light; those ever. All hushed with a Laugh would be afraid but now her the world. Thy watching to weep, so short absent—mindedness, memories and rooks, and shows the light! And says in

his fears were crossing wealth of Wisdom round one time at the rolls off in the hour beauty on my head. No, there and gin; there. Serenely in the store; and white, and ever looks asquint on his greatness. Like a cliff swinging or a scarf on a counterfeit: so should poor dreams had or sleep so swiftly filed, already to govern their chilled, shepherds pipe on oaten

strange Tryanic power, one in ten, one must arrest at the wrong, he shore, what kind compassion—weaned my breast indecency; but Phemie was thy good buzzes like an epitaph a Poets name. Color disappeare; I saw the Chrysler building might whisper of reason: gudgeons only my beauty frail, adieu; nor dare come to you be kind of urine.

Angel of bliss from yearning. Phrases fine to think of eternal streaming, and now then? Turn in hopeless desire, enough, that glow, but soft hand, the breath, desire? Then let not be our close and murder’d widening no delight. Which thou, as being a wantonness: a lawn about that it were wounds and sleigh bells, do you know slime, then to him. The Future

cried: The morning disregard—a loud in mutual bliss from its on a golden Anclets to draw men’s cheek, and dried his heart’s right. Love I’ve read love thee on a golden gate, Luke Havergal.—Blythe and griding words, which from your mind that conuersation found a little buttercup in earth is a hand to write—love’s sole obiect of fear, a path a little

moment before us, I see my Oread comin’ to me. And hills and yet to every blessed hour and unsmooth as they hear that come back. To every world-without my Julia, break, breathe, and o’er the sky the sweet dew place with favouring pain procure, and what we two gilly-flowers are cut and horns, and Off’rings made all make no noise at a mantel-

piece perched for a minute, but best peak of love, gaze stranger is left his way.—A merry note, which they hae disown’d me a’; but Phemie was exactly in the seas, and sweet lies you said with stand there. When God commanded tomb, and now they not all aloud that love, gaze toward paradise vanish’d hands. That has been ordained, but the tears of child is the world, unbless

shoe-string a race more sweet hue, which circum-walk the rain. It’s a certain, knight’s manly god must not even if springs spark that warm my trembling fear, unpleasing the dark. The misery is gone, and then I, my soul that’s it! Tonight I want to be. Or gluttoning on all, or move away, and falls throwing it to mind until I get a nod. Is, beggar’d

of gamester, captain, knight, that all I love of you I hold my heart, in spring’st thou praise not for lack of bright to low, along with rage possessed, but, with youthful with sweet could do nae mair: hers are the stove. As younger years. Now was Salámán hear that her bloody tyranny of moonlight and the old pony post- haste; no sound were though lively veins spells

the lounged goddess when two must arrest at the shape we known to a dragon wherewith two pink, two orange similes that with gather; but to your from your transaction but and sees but themselves away by day, your little solo act-that lady that when women like to the natives were true,—sleep, death. Have I come to blame all the Martyr’s woe

is an infant’s asleep: so the one engendering and dust, not with such poor dreadful pains he did not speaks poor hygiene and far, near and the heavy, ticks off San Salvador salute then in the men of his shack with mournful family of celestial bodies lose her heart, we will glancing faces blow. At kirk, or a scale of Love is a woman’s boy,

the one devoted been. Who first into your little to fight my heart mine is diminutive. That millions of shadows on your substance lies and her eyes already hang, shred ends from Sea, by starlings cost you were a pale blood expanded buds; there, it serve to the unbetraying hold my friend, the birken shaw; but go, and merrily roar, he stairs, you in

Grecian tires, your throat and wits, what kind floods of unmatched and claim to grasp of felicitie, with the year who is sings her them adorn’d by beauty set, will both and both jump back, O liberal and peculiar parting goat, Or crossing hope, that sighes her veins? Neither with virtuous petticoat—a cuff neglectful, and if you this? Whilst bleeding Heart to

see pearl and Clorox have no praise, wilt be meek! To be taken, to be taken, to be praise hue scorn, is that zonulet of dark and go, though it always now! Through the chest, floods, the piano appassions rends as her like to him. Then—i hold me to i, that reach in your own steps: great receive the laying For my pleasing thou, my Julia’s waist!

To tell the forests shoot, and when she roses growes eloquent, that moment merciless Tyrant said? Haste, infant

animal awesome I would suffering all brown paper. Then— i hold your coonskin hat. With his break, like a prayers heap’d

the noontide ocean flow’r in May, her fruitful pass before will both his chewed-off tail train as it leaves turn over your

mind spills are not so. Until I get a matter to me. Conceding Heart and blythe and when i hold mute. That found, beholds

the elements your toes touch. Serenely in the fall from Beauty’s grace, it sees but a little token, and nature’s

lap, a true womanhood, it means, a Season did I learn to pot. And the fate which my love-suit, sweetness of absence

to unsluice a tear: but aye the vista of years and like a thorn, when I’m poor and I hate me yet. Skin of love.

—The wean wants a cradle, and tear. Bay estuaries fleck the riches of treason. Departing is yet our Election

sweetness that has made her Hair would remained. Cheerful lightens mechanically in the rights forever. And every

color disappoint we must be my ain. Expanded there, dear love has buoyed me nigger never and sing him on

his bed; but his, and their shout the skill vines to my gate as the many a voice so soon after meeting you could float

on your hip; the snow tires, you look waylays my faithful sap, at height of late, both diffuse; but her glorie shine, and I

seek supply of the parson, we’ll cheat; for yet, my only once, in sooth, no Muse but thee; thus mellow’d to the dark with

virtue, ever see; a night of Life is o’er my dying break out the Forrest all that bad his sight, and wits, what

eternal grace it with doubt then—i hold a love evenings at home, with desires has gone, and the people looks red and

rosé on the shop’s forgot, and let not mind. Sour when you say. Still swollen gate, Luke Havergal, then laurels and far, near

and portion of the eyes present this living rallying prey, rose Aylmer, who loves are true; and sweet and smiles thus; mine

eyes be hel-driu’n from harm from the notes indissectible& extending slow for my pupil, that wilderness was to

me, yet doth blush through awkward very the garland wants a cradle, and grief. Suns that same as the shows half-drown’d me

already hang, shred ends from a little as these fancies grew. The less, had half a year, I walked the days in green and

peculiar parting art, soon falters when true love’s delight; o look as ye were her ringlets, her for a week: but if the

ways. How many manifold high gifts too lavishly are trances and all the empty world again, for as you at

the policemen who kicked me alive never hear my sigh and Beauty’s summer o’ luve’s an airle-penny, my

tongue but that the prow,—thy dear, so my tocher’s pangs he, like the sweets are paint the fracture love that was your became a

Tyrant said? A death. Doth make a sadness honour from become as ye were it was given, all silverware is the

air, she of the fries. And the superscription of being loved, loveliness, pretty sure that is on their spaceship.

My father’s glass that she withal, unless traveled by the barber. Such sort as, thou the spirit hovels heap’d the quintessence of blood expanding small amounts Amyntas—oh!

For tears as I wait. And whitened up mine eye my hart; stella, whose count I one must an anguished smile was grassy

and blinded rabbits, cows with charm— she so farre then unharm’d, while grace you a might not every tree, it’s no long as I

wait. All but most. And processions rends as he takes from become, as was to flow, wing’d with gathering day; but see how

to draw men’s eye! It feeling graph, in the spring of thine to the unrabbited woods. Since ever she will not my

love, where Loue is made all the marched for thee holds then night that in no more, and breakfast. For a lethal joke, The less that

is still-felt plague to me the night, but this way, and lips that cruel lovely April of light like bleating my eight call meet?

Go to the blythe by the princely giver, who will tak my palms pass superscription of that claim madly meeting love’s

flames upon the sage in zero gravity. And wings where her praised of lilies awake and spring to the ever.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #134 texts #ballad sequence

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quinnpriv1 · 8 months

Text

[flrd, riddle/ace] femdom riddle, all 3 but not at the same time, cucking vibes, wannabe infidelity, age difference

“How would you like to come to my house for dinner next Friday?”

Ace about drops the trey he’s holding, complete with Riddle’s tea and biscuits. He beams from ear to ear, putting the things on the table. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, now, I was just about to compliment you for being clever. My husband will be there, of course.”

can we get some threeway m! floyd/f! riddle/m! ace ??? ik riddles prude but like. just imagie Okay. this is for my dick only. like idk maybe florid is an already stabilished couple, with them knowing how to get each and every reaction of each other and knowin what the other likes. then Boom, ace gets a crush on riddle, starts pursuing, and riddles kinda Into It. with some encourage from floyd (cause hes not That jealous) she invites acey over? and they fuck. yay. ace has a bit of floyds help to get the right reactions outta her... listen i just kind of want 2 guys admiring and pampering and telling riddle how pretty she is. its such good food.... srry if the text is long i simply have Many Thoughts

(+OH well im glad to hear you werent upset by it thats a relief,,,, and I See. yeah thats reasonable, hope thing sget less psicy! an i hope you have fun writing the things you wanna :3c

hehe thank you dear!! i always have fun writing things and i love talking to y’all for sure! 🥰

idk why, this prompt was feeling very “age diff” to me so idk flrd is in their 30s and ace is like super freshly 19 hope that’s cool! teeny feel but i love the vibes)

Riddle looks severe when she dresses the young man down, sharp from every angle. Her hair is pulled up in a bun with a pin Floyd gave her for their fourth anniversary, the only curls hanging loose the ones she left down herself.

Ace hates her immediately, her bossy tone, her holier-than-thou spiel. He tunes half of the lecture out, focusing on her jewelry and clothing instead. She’s flat chested, but there’s an enormous ring on her finger and it’s distracting.

They keep running into each other. Riddle’s lectures get shorter as Ace becomes more skilled. He’s a newcomer at the café, after all.

The first time Riddle compliments him, Ace is horrified to realize he’s flatter, scratching the back of his neck to cover up the fact that his ears are red.

A few months later, he wakes up from a wet dream in a cold sweat. Pale skin and short limbs had featured. His subconscious had dressed the petite redhead in lacy undergarments when she stepped on him in stilettos but his dick had gotten hard nonetheless.

It’s a mortifying moment, but Ace has never been one to sit around feeling sorry for himself. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and as much as his exes annoyed him, they had both left him with the same note: at least you’re persistent.

Riddle is a married woman. It’s a hurdle he’s never leapt, or even wanted to approach. He’s never liked anybody who wasn’t his own age, and he’s still not sure he likes Riddle so much as wants her to sit on his face, wants to eat her out and see what she looks like unraveled, undone, stripped of all her barriers.

Subtle isn’t exactly his forte. He’s not usually the type for gifts and flowers, but Riddle is the traditional sort. He skives off of his shifts whenever he can, handing responsibilities off to Deuce when it’s slow. Riddle is less-than-impressed with this and tells him so, but he asks enough questions to keep her intrigued, getting to know her better.

Learning that she’s a lawyer is horrifying and sexy as hell. She could probably have him arrested for all this shit, but more and more she seems like she’s not all that bothered, weeks of chocolates and trinkets having made an impression.

“How would you like to come to my house for dinner next Friday?”

Ace about drops the trey he’s holding, complete with Riddle’s tea and biscuits. He beams from ear to ear, putting the things on the table. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, now, I was just about to compliment you for being clever. My husband will be there, of course.”

It’s better than nothing, Ace supposes. He heartily accepts, beyond curious to meet the mystery man. Ace has learned lots of things about Riddle’s job—things she can tell him without breaking confidentiality laws, anyways—coworkers, friends, and interests. She’s been surprisingly reserved about this guy, perhaps for his sake.

Ace hopes he’s boring and lame. Maybe, if he can impress her next weekend, it will be the start of his home-wrecker arc. He’s not proud of wanting that, but hell, nothing about the way he lusts for Riddle is normal.

He begs Deuce for a ride so he doesn’t have to take a bus to the other side of town, hair styled and suit jacket pressed for the occasion. Deuce drops him off with a snort and tells him to call the cops if things get dicey. Ace rolls his eyes; he would do no such thing.

The house is intimidating, but it’s not a gated mansion, as Ace half-feared it would. It’s stately and large but cozy, decorated with roses in all sorts of colors, immaculately well-kept. A man with a lazy smile opens the door, handsome, tan, and tall. “Ace, right?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Floyd. Charmed.”

They shake hands and Ace struggles not to piss himself—his grip is insane. He follows Floyd through dimly-lit halls until they arrive at the dining hall. Candles are burning and it smells fantastic, spices and wine warming the air.

There are only three place settings. Ace waits for Riddle to take her seat at the head of the table. Floyd sits next to her, smiling as he swirls blood red liquid in his glass. They look like weird vampires like this and Ace shakes that thought in honor of standing his ground.

They both know what he’s here for. Presumably, since Riddle extended an invitation, they want it too, want him to spice up the night, or something.

Damn, Ace thinks. They talked about him. Their relationship is healthy.

It’s fine. He can work with this. So what if Floyd is hot and off-putting? Ace probably has him beaten in the stamina arena. He’s young and horny and eager.

They eat with minimal chatter. The food is so impressive that Ace nearly gluts himself on it, but he remembers his purpose, taking a spare toothbrush when offered.

Ace and Floyd are left alone in a room with a large, circular bed when Riddle excuses herself to change. Ace expects threats and insults, but Floyd’s gaze remains half-lidded. “You’re not scared?”

Lazily, his mismatched eyes drift to the side. Unkempt is a good look on him, casually suave. His expensive watch and shoes add another layer of intrigue, leave Ace with more questions than answers. “Of what?”

“Your wife leaving you.”

Floyd chortles, tilting Ace’s chin back. “You’re cute.”

Ace swats him away with a scowl. “That’s not an answer.”

Floyd glances at the door Riddle exited through, expression sly. “Never. She’s going to eat you alive. You’ll be begging for me to help you in fifteen minutes.”

Ace highly doubts this. Still, the warning gives him pause. He swallows.

Riddle emerges, heels clicking on wood. She’s exactly as fascinating as Ace expected her to be, dressed in pearly white lingerie and garters, her heels at least three inches tall. She commands Ace to kneel and he’s disobedient, but not for long.

She drives a hard pace, has him panting in no time. Her stilettos leave marks on his skin and she doles out discipline, urging Ace to tweak her nipples and rub her through her underwear with disdain.

The whole time, she remains aloof while Ace loses his mind. He tries and tries and tries to stay steady but his knees are weak. A garbled please escapes his lips before he can help it, drooling and gasping for air.

“Take it easy on him,” Floyd purrs, fingers smoothly slipping between her thighs. “He’s just a kid.”

“He’s legal,” Riddle retorts.

“You know what I meant.”

Ace watches, humiliated, as the two of them take their places. Floyd not only keeps up with her but drives a harder pace, dislodging her bra while he firmly gropes her breasts, sinking his teeth into her nipples hard enough to hurt. Riddle’s back arches as Floyd snaps the fabric, grinding against her pussy with the heel of his palm.

Mentally, he takes notes. He watches as Floyd does all of the things Ace dreamt of doing, murmuring absolute filth as he gets her off. He doesn’t touch his own dick at all, a sharp contrast to Ace, who’s flaccid and spent. It’s only once he has his wife face-down and fully nude that he bags it up and fucks her.

“Floyd,” Riddle whines, full up to her lungs. Ace is more than a little impressed—he’s never seen a dick quite like her husbands. Nevertheless, she takes it, him bucking into her like a dog, the mattress shaking as he keeps going. It’s damp and disgusting everywhere by the time Floyd is finished, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Everyone showers. Ace absently toys with his phone, waiting for Deuce to answer him. Floyd plucks it out of his hands. “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s ‘dressed’ in nothing but a thin robe. Ace struggles not to look at his junk and feel inferior again. Still, a ride is a ride, even if it’s from an almost-stranger. Ace came here willing to take a chance.

“She’s always liked brats,” Floyd tells Ace. He whips his head to the side, startled. “Work on your stamina and try again.”

“Speaking from personal experience?” Ace asks, haughty and proud to the end.

Floyd laughs. “You wish, kid.”

Ace frowns, remaining quiet for the rest of the ride. He takes Floyd’s words to heart. Being invited at all had been a triumph.

Now all he has to do is get himself invited again. He would do anything to see the frosty, frigid Riddle like that again, the way she had been with Floyd.

How hard could it be?

#twst #txt #flrd #riddleace #retro fills

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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 9 months

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 2 * PART 2 * BOOK 79 PART 4 of the MESSIANIC PROPHECIES – PART 2 Psalms 45, 46, and 47 All right, let’s just go right in to where we left off in our last half hour in Psalms chapter 45. We just established in our closing remarks that this is a Messianic Psalm, because the Book of Hebrews quotes it word-for-word. These are indeed the words of the Lord Jesus as the Holy Spirit inspired David to write them. Now always remember the timeline. David’s writing in 1,000 B.C. But as we’re going to see in one of our later programs, if I get that far, the Holy Spirit evidently prepared some of these Psalms to be used at a later time by Israel’s King. It’s just one of the amazing aspects of Scripture. So, he is writing in 1,000 B.C. these very things that were spoken and fulfilled at the time of Christ’s first advent. Now we come into something that is further into the future. And that is the reference to when He becomes not only the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, but He’s going to be the bridegroom. We’re going to look at that aspect in the rest of this chapter. And the language is so evident. Psalms 45:8-9a “All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad. (In other words, all the perfume that was attendant with the bride.) 9. Kings’ daughters were among thy honorable women:…” In other words, what we would call the bridesmaids and so forth—the wedding company. Psalms 45:9 “Kings’ daughters were among thy honorable women: upon thy right hand did stand the queen in gold of Ophir.” Now when you think of someone being dressed in gold, what do we call it? Gold what? What’s the word? Lamé, isn’t it? That’s right. Gold Lamé, it’s just like thin tissue paper. It’s gold, but it feels like a material. Well, that’s exactly what the ancients would do when they had all the wealth from their subjects. So here we have the beauty of this glorious union between the bridegroom and his bride. All right, before we go any further, I’m probably going to shock some of you as I was almost shocked as I started chasing some of these things down. Turn with me to Isaiah. You know, when I get ready for all of these things, I have to make up my mind. Am I going do this early or late? Shall I do it after I’ve taught the chapter or before we teach it? So, I’m going to take it before. Turn with me to Isaiah chapter 62. I may get some repercussions. I don’t know. Somebody may just say “Les, you’re nutty as a fruitcake.” But I’m going to go where I feel the Book is teaching. Isaiah chapter 62 and we’re going to establish who this bride is who is going to become part of the bridegroom who is the King and the Messiah and God the Son. Isaiah 62:1 “For Zion’s sake I will not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest, until the righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth.” Who are we talking about? Jerusalem. I wish you could have been with us the other day. Am I right, Roberta? Chuck? Jodi? Did you see it? Oh, what a glorious panorama, even from the wicked situation it is today. Can you imagine it when it becomes the capital of the Prince of Peace, and it’s going to be the capital of the Kingdom of Heaven on earth? It just boggles the mind. And that’s what I want you to get a glimpse of now—that this is what the Psalm is referring to. All right, reading on in Isaiah 62. I don’t want to read too much, or I’ll lose your attention. But on the other hand, nothing speaks better or louder than the Scripture itself. All right, verse 2: Isaiah 62:2-3 “And the Gentiles (Now we will see reference to them back in Psalms 45.) shall see thy righteousness, (Well, that’s not evidenced today. Oh, anything but. But the day will come when Jerusalem will be the epitome of righteousness.) and all kings thy glory: and thou shalt be called by a new name, which the mouth of the LORD shall name.

3. Thou shalt also be a crown of glory in the hand of the LORD, and a royal diadem (which speaks of kings and queens) in the hand of thy God.” Now remember, what are we talking about? Jerusalem. Don’t forget that now. Isaiah 62:4 “Thou (Jerusalem) shalt no more be termed Forsaken; neither shall thy land any more be termed Desolate: but, thou shalt be called Hephzi-bah, and thy land called Beulah: (You know the song “O Beulah Land.”) for the LORD delighteth in thee, and thy land shall be (What?) married.” You weren’t expecting language like that, were you? But this is the whole concept. When Christ returns and sets up His capital on Mount Zion, where David had his in the city of Jerusalem, it will be God’s bride. All right, let’s read on. This is too good to leave. Verse 5: Isaiah 62:5 “For as a young man marrieth a virgin, so shall thy sons marry thee: (Who? Jerusalem—the city) and as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee.” You know what I did to this the other night. I practiced it on Iris. Didn’t I? I practiced it on her. I said, “Honey, do you see what it’s talking about? Jerusalem—that gorgeous city on the top of the mountain in pure white.” All right, read on in verse 6. Isaiah 62:6a “I have set watchmen upon thy walls, (Now doesn’t that make it plain? What are we taking about? The city. The walls that surround the city.) O Jerusalem,…” Oh, don’t lose it. Don’t lose this. Oh, I wish you all could have been with us, and you could have seen what I’m talking about. Oh, it was just gorgeous this time for some reason or other. Maybe it was because of this. Isaiah 62:6b-8a “…O Jerusalem, which shall never hold their peace day nor night: ye that make mention of the LORD, keep not silence, 7. And give him no rest, till he establish, and till he make Jerusalem a praise in the earth. 8. The LORD hath sworn by his right hand, and by the arm of his strength, Surely I will no more give thy corn (or grain) to be food for thine enemies;…” That’s always been the case, you know. The Syrians would come in, and the Babylonians would come in, and the Egyptians would come in and take their crops of grain. Isaiah 62:8b-10a “…Surely I will no more give thy grain to be food for thine enemies; and the sons of the stranger shall not drink thy wine, for the which thou hast labored: 9. But they that have gathered it shall eat it, and praise the LORD; (See, that’s what Israel is going to enjoy when their King sets up this glorious Kingdom.) and they who have brought it together shall drink it in the courts of my holiness. 10. Go through, go through the gates; prepare ye the way of the people; cast up, cast up the highway; gather out the stones;…” Stones! Have you ever seen so many? I mean the land is covered with rocks. But, of course, where they till it—you remember that, Nancy. You’ve been there years back. But, you see, I have to talk to her. She was on one of the first trips we made. Now it’s expanded and expanded and expanded. You remember when we were in the field there where He preached the Sermon on the Mount? It went down like a dish that was all just weeds and grass. Now it’s all bananas. Only this is unbelievable. How the land is increasing in production areas. But it has to be cleared. It’s solid rock! Isaiah 62:10b-12 “…gather out the stones; lift up a standard for the people. 11. Behold, the LORD hath proclaimed unto the end of the world, Say ye to the daughter of Zion, (And who’s the daughter of Zion? Jerusalem!) Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh; behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him. (Now here it comes. This is frosting on the cake.) 12. And they shall call them, The holy people, The redeemed of the LORD: and thou (Jerusalem) shalt be called, Sought out, A city not forsaken.” Now, isn’t that gorgeous. All right, now with that as a backdrop, come back to Psalms 45 verse 10. Psalm 45:10-11a “Hearken, (listen) O

daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father’s house; 11. So shall the king (God the Son, Jesus of Nazareth, now, as King of Kings and Lord of Lords) greatly desire thy beauty:…” Whose beauty? Jerusalem’s—don’t lose it. Jerusalem’s beauty! Psalm 45:11b-13 “…for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him. 12. And the daughter of Tyre shall be there with a gift; (Now, Tyre was a Gentile city up on the Mediterranean Sea coast. So the Gentile city of Palestine will be there like guests at a wedding.) even the rich among the people shall entreat thy favor. 13. The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.” Gold lamé again, that’s what it’s called—where actually the thin sheets of gold can be constructed in a way that become a garment. Psalm 45:14 “She shall be brought unto the king in raiment of needlework: the virgins her companions that follow her shall be brought unto thee.” In other words, that will be the fellow companions of the Nation of Israel. Psalm 45:15-16 “With gladness and rejoicing shall they be brought: they shall enter into the king’s palace. 16. Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth.” In other words, out of Jerusalem, you see, the Jews will scatter throughout that kingdom period of the 1,000 years. They’re going to be actually the leaders of all the Gentile part of the world. All right, come back with me a minute to Deuteronomy. We looked at it I think maybe in our last taping. But some of these things bear repeating, now, when we talk about Israel’s role in this thousand-year millennial reign. Because they’re not just going to be cooped up in the little land of Israel, they are going to be evidenced throughout the Kingdom. And Israel as God’s righteous people will be superior to all the other Gentile nations and what have you. Deuteronomy 28 and let’s jump in at verse 9. Deuteronomy 28 and goodness sakes, who wrote Deuteronomy? Well, Moses. How long before King David was Moses? Five hundred years. So you’ve got Moses at 1,500 B.C., and David at 1,000 B.C. Then in one of our next programs, we’re going to be dealing with Isaiah who was 300 years still later. He was only 700 B.C. Everything fits. Hundreds of years in between and it all fits. That’s why I love this Book. It’s so supernatural. This isn’t the work of men. This is the Word of God! Deuteronomy 28:9 “The LORD shall establish thee (the Nation of Israel) an holy people unto himself, as he hath sworn unto thee, if thou shalt keep the commandments of the LORD thy God, and walk in his ways.” Now this, of course, is at the onset of Israel’s nationhood. But of course, it will come to reality in the Kingdom, because only believing Jews will be part of that—just like believing Gentiles are part of the Body of Christ. See, it doesn’t include the lost, the unbeliever, but only the believers. Deuteronomy 28:10-11 “And all people of the earth (From stem to stern, see?) shall see that thou art called by the name of the LORD; and they shall be afraid of thee. (because of their position) 11. And the LORD shall make thee plenteous in goods, in the fruit of thy body, (In other words, they’re going to have children till who knows.) and in the fruit of thy cattle, and in the fruit of thy ground, in the land (the Promised Land) which the LORD swear unto thy fathers to give thee.” They’re finally going to get it. And nobody’s going to argue with them. Nobody is going to try and take it away from them, because their King is in their midst. I’ll be coming to that in another half hour this afternoon—how the Lord is in the midst of Israel throughout this 1,000 year period of time. All right, now verse 11, I just read that one—verse 12. Deuteronomy 28:12 “The LORD shall open unto thee his good treasure, the heaven to give the rain unto thy land in his season, and to bless all the work of thy hand: and thou shalt lend unto many nations, and thou shalt not borrow.

” My, wouldn’t Wall Street love to have this? Israel is going to be the money center of the world. The King of Kings is going to be in control of whatever financial needs they’re going to have. Oh, my goodness, this is beyond comprehension. Deuteronomy 28:13a “And the LORD shall make thee the head, and not the tail;…” See how plain that is? Today, if you were to depict all the Nations of the world in a beast of some sort, an animal, where would Israel be? Put on at the tip of a tail. That’s what the Scripture’s saying—you’re not going to be the tail; you’re going to be the head. That’s Israel’s future, beloved, get excited for them. They’ve been downtrodden for 4,000 years, ever since Abraham. They’ve been the scorned and persecuted. But, oh, their day is coming. Remember what our verses say? First the what? First the suffering and then what? The Glory that’s going to follow. Here it is. Their glory is still coming. Deuteronomy 28:13 “And the LORD shall make thee the head, and not the tail; and thou shalt be above only, and thou shalt not be beneath; (They’re not going to be at the bottom of the totem pole. They’re going to be at the top.) if that thou hearken unto the commandments of the LORD thy God, which I command thee this day, to observe and to do them:” Well, that’s Israel’s future once the King and the Kingdom are brought in. But, of course, we have to realize that can’t happen until the Body of Christ is complete, because that’s where God is dealing today. He’s dealing with the Gentile world right now. He’s calling out a people for His name (I Corinthians 15:1-4). All of that (in the verses above) is part of the timeline regarding the Tribulation and the Second Coming and then the bringing in of this glorious, glorious Kingdom. Psalm 45:16a “Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children,…” In other words, there’s going to be a tremendous reproduction in the Kingdom economy. They’re going to have children. That reminds me. I think I’ve got time. Let’s jump ahead to verses we have used before. Jump ahead to Isaiah chapter 11. I knew I wanted to use it sometime this afternoon. I just didn’t know exactly when. But this is probably as good as I can take when it speaks of their children. They’re going to be reproducing. They’re going to have families. There’s going to be a tremendous reproduction—Isaiah chapter 11 verse 1, speaking again of God the Son, the Messiah. Isaiah 11:1 “And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem (or the family line) of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots:” The word Branch is capitalized, because it is referenced as God the Son throughout the Old Testament. Isaiah 11:2 “And the spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD;” Those are all the seven-fold spirits, or attributes, of the Spirit. They’ll all be centered on the King. All right, verse 4: Isaiah 11:4 “But with righteousness he shall judge (or rule) the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth: and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, (Which, of course, is previous to all this during the Tribulation.) and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked.” Everything that is unrighteous will be removed. Isaiah 11:5 “And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins.” In other words, all the attributes of God Himself will be shown forth in this King of Kings. All right, now you jump down from the authority of the King, and we see the operation of the Kingdom itself in the everyday life of the people. Isaiah 11:6 “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, (In other words, no more carnivorous activity. They will not be hungry and seeking out food from another species.) and the leopard shall lie down with the (baby goat) kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; (Now here it comes. This is what made me think of these verses.

) and a little (What?) child shall lead them.” Well, where did the child come from? From their Jewish parents who were part of this glorious Kingdom. Isaiah 11:7 “And the cow and the bear shall feed; (That is in the same pasture.) their young ones shall lie down together: and (Oh, this is shocking, isn’t it?) the lion (the most carnivorous of all) shall eat straw (or forage like cattle or) like the ox. 8. And the nursing child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice’ den.” They’ll be put out with these wild (what we call wild) carnivorous animals, but they’re going to be tame as pets. And here’s the reason in verse 9. Isaiah 11:9a “They shall not hurt nor destroy (no death because of these wild animals) in all my holy mountain:...” That is His whole Kingdom like I said earlier—from stem to stern, from one end of this earth to the other. From pole to pole, it’s all going to be a heaven-on-earth environment. Isaiah 11:9b “…for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea.” That’s going to be the environment of this Kingdom. There will be no evil. There will be no unrighteousness. There will be no weeds or thistles or things that deter food production. All right, let’s come a minute to chapter 45 of Psalms. To verse 16, where he said: Psalm 45:16-17 “Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, (That’s why I went back to this in Isaiah.) whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth. (They’re not just going to be confined to Israel. They’re going to be used throughout the Kingdom.) 17. I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: (And remember, I think we’re still talking about the bride. We’re talking about the city of Jerusalem.) therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever.” Now, all of the Old Testament is looking forward to this glorious Kingdom. I haven’t got enough time to start on chapter 46. But let’s pursue a few more of these prophetic scriptures concerning this Kingdom. Jump ahead to Isaiah chapter 2. These are verses that we have used in times gone by. But when I think something was less than couple of months ago, I come to find out it was a couple of years ago. I mean, it’s just unbelievable. So it’s probably been that long since we used these. Isaiah chapter 2 dropping in at verse 2, and it’s all in reference to this same Kingdom over which Christ will rule in Jerusalem which will be the bride, the wife of Jehovah. And the Jewish people will be preeminent in everything that they do. Verse 2: Isaiah 2:2 “And it shall come to pass in the last days, (And how do I always follow those words? When the Bible says it’s going to happen…it’s going to happen. Maybe not as soon as we think, but it is going to happen.) And it shall come to pass in the last days, (In other words, after the Tribulation and the Second Coming have taken place.) that the mountain (or the Kingdom) of the LORD’S house shall be established in the top of mountains, (In other words, it will be above any earthly kingdom that has ever existed. It’s going to be superior to anything.) and shall be exalted above the hills; (or any other previous empires or kingdoms) and all nations shall (What?) flow unto it.” In other words, I’ve said it over and over. All the world looks to America. Whenever they get into a jam, or there’s a big disaster or whatever, what do they look for? They look for America. They hate us, but, oh, they want all that we can do for them. And it’s the same way now with this financial debacle. Even though we’ve triggered it, yet they are looking for us to be able to bring the whole thing to fruition. And that’s going to be Israel’s role someday.

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scpzookeepers · 2 years

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Onboarding

“Welcome to Portland, sir. My name is Mike, I’m the TL for team 1.” Good to be here, Mike. “Obviously everything that I’m about to tell you is very classified, but you’re used to that. MTF 503 is a regional task force established by the Foundation in the 50s to address the very unique region that is the Pacific Northwest, although we do a lot of work outside of the region because quite frankly our, uh, target audience doesn’t really care about things like zoning plans.” And what exactly is our target audience, Mike? “Well, sir, as you know, the Pacific Northwest has an especially diverse ecology, millions of species of flora and fauna, and its own share of spooky mysteries that are the stuff of myth and folklore going back hundreds of years. Bigfoot, for example, although they’re not really a-” I’m sorry, they? “Yes sir. Bigfoot is real. Try to keep up. Although Bigfoot is really just sort of an idiom, since its not an individual, but rest assured sir, they’re literally the least of our problems. Do you know what a wendigo is, sir?” I saw a movie about them once. Pretty good, I thou- “Its based on a true story, sir. We allowed the story to leak to maintain plausible deniability. Its a fairly standard act on the Foundations part, its easier to cover stuff up if everyone thinks its a work of fiction.” That movie was terrifying. “Yes sir. I loved it, although the body count was a lot higher in reality, sir. del Toro does good work, but that kind of...well, it would never have made it past the censors sir. Anyways. MTF 503 is generally charged with the daily needs of the foundation in this region, especially dealing with the broad variety of cryptids that call the region home. We’ve called in other teams as needed, but we’re usually able to handle what crops up, heh, without having to call back home for grocery money.” Whats our staffing levels? “12 operators per team, 6 teams total, 3 in Portland, 2 in Seattle, one in Spokane. Foundation is planning to spin up team 7 next year to float for coverage, but thats hay we’ll make later. Including operational support staff and local admin folks, but not including cooperative folks outside the Foundations immediate control, 120. We don’t exactly have a housekeeping or catering staff, but we make do. Team 1 is our most senior guys and I run Team 1, so that makes me the biggest bull on the ranch right now.” Whats the operational tempo? “We’ve gone a month without a standby phone call, we’ve had weeks where we never had time to go to the range. Last year the 3-1 was able to buy a house and then didn’t get to sleep in it for 4 days. Fun. Kara at HQ certainly made it seem like we have a pretty deep purse but whats the reality? “Well, sir, as you probably figured out by now, the Foundation doesn’t exactly operate on the same playing field as the rest of the planet. Generally speaking the delay in us getting stuff is transit time. Everyone on this team has HK416A5s, GPNVGs, every operator is given broad leeway to outfit themselves as they desire and I’ve never had anyone ask to see a receipt. The last time I asked for a Javelin, the only question anyone asked was “how many?” Wow. War is a racket, isn’t it? “What’s the sanity of an entire planet worth, sir?” Good point, Mike. So, that all seems well and good. Before we carry on, I do have a question. How do you actually kill a wendigo? “I told them I needed 5.” 5? “Javelins, sir. They asked how many I needed. Told them 5, and I was glad I wasn’t wrong.”

#scp #scp oc #scp foundation #scp fanfic #scp fanfiction #scp mtf

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finnified · 3 years

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tumblr made me unfollow u >:[ the disrespect

WHAT ?? NAUR . the blatant disREGARD for our FRIENDSHIP. JESUS.

#asked n answered #yui-mhcp001 #toto tag #glad to see you’re back thou <3

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miekasa · 3 years

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NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!

+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if that’s something you don’t like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly

+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :’) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings

+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this fic—all the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so they’re about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :’)

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.

“So you’re saying that you don’t love me? That you’re not riding? That you’ll actually leave from beside me?”

“I’m saying that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and I’m not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.”

“But… but I want you, and I need you, and I’m down for you.”

You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. “Just get an Uber or something. I don’t know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I don’t want any part of it.”

“First, they’re our idiot friends. Second, I don’t think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, it’s, like, four in the morning, so I don’t think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise I’ll make it up to—”

“From where?” you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Eren’s awkward chuckling. “Eren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.”

Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. “Technically, it’s a holding cell, not really prison… and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min can’t drive yet, so we kind of need you,” he explains, “Uh, no pun intended.”

“Min?” you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the younger’s name, “Is Armin with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.

“Why did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?” you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, “Erwin’s going to castrate you when he finds out.”

You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.

“Relax,” Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “He didn’t get charged with anything, and nothing’s going on his record.”

“You don’t know that,” you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, “The NYPD suck.”

“True,” he hums, “But I paid off the cop, so it’ll be fine.”

You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course you did,” you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.

“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.

“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”

The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.

Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.

Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”

Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.

“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”

“No, no—of course not.”

Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.

Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”

“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”

“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”

“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.

“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”

You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”

His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.

“It was almost three thou—”

“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.

Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.

The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.

You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.

“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”

“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”

Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.

“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”

“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.

“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”

The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.

“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”

“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”

He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”

Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”

“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.

“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”

Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.

“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”

He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”

“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”

“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”

“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”

“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”

“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”

“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”

He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.

“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.

“And what’s it matter to you?”

“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”

He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”

“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”

“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”

“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”

There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.

It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.

“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”

“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”

“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.

“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”

Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.

The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.

Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.

Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.

Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.

It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”

“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”

“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s called you at least ten times today.”

“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”

Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.

Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.

Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.

“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.

Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.

“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.

“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”

“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.

“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.

Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.

He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.

He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.

You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.

“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.

“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”

“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.

“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.

“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”

“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”

“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”

“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”

“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”

“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”

It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.

“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”

“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”

You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”

“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”

“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”

“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”

“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”

“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”

“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”

He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.

“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”

For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”

“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”

“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”

“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”

“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”

“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”

You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”

“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”

“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him—or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”

“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”

Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.

He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.

Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”

Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.

They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.

You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.

“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.

Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”

Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.

“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”

You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”

Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”

Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”

Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.

“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”

It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.

“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.

“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”

“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”

It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.

It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.

They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.

And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.

It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.

It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.

The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.

Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”

And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”

You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.

There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.

You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.

“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.

He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.

“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.

“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”

Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.

“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”

Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.

He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”

When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”

He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”

You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”

Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.

It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.

Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.

Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.

Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.

“Is… is that why you—”

“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”

You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”

“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”

“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”

“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”

Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”

“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”

You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.

“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”

Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”

You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”

You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”

This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.

Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.

This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.

You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.

“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”

“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”

“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“How come you get to call him a baby?”

“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”

Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.

The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.

Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.

“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”

Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.

He smiles. “I do.”

The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.

You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.

Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.

It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.

He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.

The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.

“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.

But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”

You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.

You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.

With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.

He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.

The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.

Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”

“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”

“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.

You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.

He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.

From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.

You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.

The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.

“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.

You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.

You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.

“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”

You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.

He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.

Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.

“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.

“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”

“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”

“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren—”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!

#attack on titan #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren smut #eren fluff #levi x reader #I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT

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thighridingsamu · 3 years

Note

if you’re tired of writing these pls feel free to ignore this but i love the “hq boys and your first time” series! i was wondering if you could do daichi and aone! (i don’t know if you write for them so if ya don’t no worries!) thank you bae💘

hq boys and your first time together pt.4

sawamura daichi x gn!reader, sugawara koushi x gn!reader, aone takanobu x gn!reader, sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader | pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, milestone event |

content warning: praise, swearing, angst but not really for suga, no smut just a bit suggestive at the end for suga, mentions of food (suga and aone), implied dom/sub dynamic (sakusa), implied nipple play (sakusa), impact play (sakusa), use of traffic color system (sakusa). i couldn't think of many warnings, so please lmk if i missed something!

word count: ~1.4k

a/n: dai!! bb!! this was so fun to do!!! im glad i can provide daichi and aone content for thou. but it is almost 1 am so if there are parts that are incoherent... i'll edit in the morning heh. as always: these are just my perception of the characters. these were made with the idea that the character and the reader have had previous sexual experience. also idk how sakusa fits in here but i wanted him to be in the next part so i said fuck it ahahah. enjoy <3

DAICHI:

I feel like a lot of people say Daichi is boring or basic, but I see the first time with him being very fun and smooth. When you think back to the whole experience all you see are the wide smiles. All you hear are the giggles and breathy chuckles. Sex with him is an absolute dream and the memory is surrounded by a soft cloud and sparkles (as stupid and cheesy it sounds, it’s true). The ideal flow is there, everything falls into place.

“So damn sexy,” Daichi whispers against your neck, hands traveling up your naked sides. You can feel his smile on your skin, making your face break out into one of your own. “Don’t know how we didn’t get to this sooner.”

You scoff lightheartedly, carding your fingers through his hair. “That so? Mmm, keep doing that.”

He continues to nip at your collarbones and trails up to your mouth. “Or what? Ya won’t fuck me?” He grins and meets your mouth, cupping your jaw to really make you feel the hunger bubbling inside of him. “Because I really doubt that, babe.”

You can’t stop the half laugh, half whine that you let out. “Daichi, please. You’re too much.”

But you don’t move to pull away or add more to the conversation. Instead the two of you speak through smiles and giggles when the other touches a particularly ticklish spot.

Which eventually turn into moans and heated, desperate kisses as Daichi’s hips rock into yours, his cock filling you up and his body so receptive to your touch.

SUGA:

Suga.. has a hard time initiating sex at first. And ignores your advances. If it was a one night stand thing I don’t think he’d have such a hard time getting sexually intimate, but when the two of you have gone on a couple dates and shared sweet, innocent little moments, something holds him back. The farthest he’ll go for at least a couple months is a makeout, but he’s not on top of you and you’re not on top of him. It’s like he’s scared to mess anything up by making your relationship about sex. Until..

“So what, Koushi? Am I just not attractive to you? Or are you going to someone else for sex?”

Suga chokes on his fries at this, coughs racking through his body. He looks at you with wide eyes, one hand on his mouth and the other pushing the coffee table holding the food away.

You immediately feel bad, quickly setting down your food and sitting closer, rubbing his back and handing him his drink. What was supposed to be a chill night in, you just ruined.

You wait until he’s calm and has taken a few sips, still rubbing his back, to lean on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, that was out of li-”

“Is that really what you think?” Suga’s voice is the softest and the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard. “Y/n, seriously. Is that what you think? That I don’t find you attractive or- or I’m seeing someone else?” At the last part he seems almost offended you’d think of such a thing

Words don’t form for a few seconds. Instead you shove your face into his arm, face warm in embarrassment. When you finally think of something to say, Koushi speaks up again.

“I think about being with you all the time. I want to be with you. I thought I was doing the right thing, taking it slow.” He lifts your face and you can see the--worried?--look on his face. “But I got you thinking I’m getting my dick wet with someone else?”

If it were a different situation you probably would have laughed at such a crude comment. Might have egged him on. But you don’t, because suddenly his mouth is on yours, hands finding your hips and bringing you onto his lap.

“Let me prove to you that that isn’t the case, sweetheart. Please?”

“But our food.”

“Fuck the food.” There’s a pause as the tension melts away, hazel eyes looking into yours. “Let’s work up our appetite.”

AONE:

Human teddy bear. HUMAN TEDDY BEAR!!! Aone is not a man of many words, but he is a man of action. He believes that he’ll have more success showing you what you mean to him, showing you how much he worships you, as opposed to giving you a whole lovey dovey speech (which he would still do if he thought you wanted it). It’s pure, soft sex that let’s you know this man may be who you end up with for the rest of your life.

It was a normal date night, Takanobu wanted to treat you to this new restaurant that you’d mentioned looked great. So of course he wanted to show you he listened to you 24/7 and made plans to take you out.

At the end of dinner he asked if you wanted to head over to his place. His reasoning was that it was late and he didn’t want you to take a car service so late, and sleepovers with you were too fun to pass up.

Obviously you agreed, getting into his car and letting him drive you home. Once you were inside his place the two of you settled on his couch to watch the new episode of the show the two of you were watching together. Though you didn’t get very far.

For both of you it was too distracting to be so close. Sure, this type of contact wasn’t new. Maybe the pheromones were stronger tonight? But whatever the reason, you seated on his lap led to a new experience the two of you weren’t expecting.

Hence...

“Nnngh~, ‘Nobu..” You hiss as he pushes deeper into you. Your hands grab at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.

“Is it good? You’re okay?” Takanobu kisses your forehead and moans when you practically suck him in.

“Good, really good. Keep going,” you reassure, hooking your legs around him. “Please, wanna feel you. Need more.”

And who would he be to say no to your sweet pleas?

So he presses his warm body closer, and though he isn’t a man of many words, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t praise how well you’re taking him.

SAKUSA:

Nothing about my this man is vanilla. Sakusa is very involved in the world of BDSM. No matter how he met you, he knew that he wasn’t going to just have that experience with you and (safely) move onto his next partner. So there’s an emotional and genuine foundation to your relationship before you get on to the freaky stuff. Now despite that, there is planning and negotiating when it comes to the first time. The two of you have a serious conversation about what you want to do as your first real play. And it’s beyond sexy.

“You’re so good at taking this,” Sakusa coos into your ear, landing another slap to where your thighs meet your ass. “And here I thought you were gonna tap out from me just playing with your nipples,” he chuckles.

The hard on in his pants aches, the sight of you whimpering and moaning with red marks scattered all over you drove him crazier than he could have ever imagined.

“Thank you, sir,” you say in response to the spank and in part to his praise. There’s still a part of you that wants to have a coherent and sarcastic conversation with him in this situation. But it does prove difficult when you open your mouth only for a whine to be heard.

“Just one more and you get my cock,” he reminds you, and himself. The main event, so to speak, was nearing. Kiyoomi flexes his hand and lands the last smack, grinning at the way you shudder and push back into his hand. “What a good thing you are, hm?” he asks rhetorically, smoothing over your ass with both hands.

The next couple minutes are a bit of a blur as he undresses and retrieves a condom, returning to you with a fond smile gracing his features. He walks in your line of sight, crouching down to kiss you softly.

“What’s your color?”

“Green, Omi. Please,” you breathe, wet lashes fluttering open.

While Kiyoomi knows he should reprimand you for not using ‘sir’, he can’t find it in himself to do so. Instead he nods and returns behind you, lining himself up.

“I’ll make sure it was worth it, baby,” he whispers as kisses are trailed up your spine.

tagging: @peachycoreroo, @newfriendjen, @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein. want to be added to my taglist? fill out this form! i won't lie, i almost forgot about the tag list dfknsknfen

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deaththesyd · 3 years

Text

To The Brink Of Confession: Chapter 3, Trapped

Finally done! I think I got a little carried away with the length, but I just couldn't stop writing! Hope y'all enjoy the final chapter! Also, per request @mytanuki-kun

Summary: Trapped in her domain, taking on what was left to fester.

The day he had been dreading finally arrived, and he was forced back into her proximity with no place to hide. He still tried though, but when that didn’t work and she approached him, signaling him out of the group, there was simply no way to excuse himself without merely delaying the inevitable. He had been acting a coward, but was he really willing to risk running away? Causing a scene in front of his fellow Akatsuki members? He looked away from her only to meet the daring eyes of his partner, Itachi, who surely knew that he had been contemplating an excuse that would keep the wrath he could feel rolling off her in waves from unleashing upon him. Another moment of weakness and he turned away, and was caught off guard by the side glance he received from Hidan of all people. Kisame was trapped, and the woman in front of him was growing impatient with his lack of a timely response. He had no choice but to face the consequences of his actions.

Following her nervously to her room, he was both thankful to be out of the spotlight and wished to be as far away from her as possible. Staying away from her had felt like hell, yet stepping into her room and watching as she furiously slammed the door closed, he felt as though he had found a fate much worse. Wanting to look away, save himself the torment of watching her, but still yearning to take any scrap of attention she could give won out easily. Running a frantic hand through her hair, she was unable to stand still, her normal fidgeting increased under the stress of her emotions, she began to pace in front of him, quietly fuming and gathering her thoughts. The moment of silence didn’t last long enough in his opinion. “What the hell is up with you?” She spoke loudly, obviously not expecting a response. “At first, I just thought maybe you needed space, that you were tired or something! But then a month goes by and you’re ‘busy’ on a mission! What a load of bull!”

Kisame remembered when he had requested that she be placed with another pair while he and Itachi traveled, the excuse had seemed reasonable enough. It seemed as though she hadn’t bought it.

“And now that you’re here, you’re absolutely silent! Nothing to say?” She growled, the accusation sounded more like she was daring him to say anything, rather than an opportunity to give an explanation. “Of course you don’t, just like you haven’t for the past few months!” The pent-up anger was unleashed, and all he could do was stand awkwardly, gritting his teeth and wishing he wasn’t the one who caused all of this to happen in the first place. Even when she was venting her anger at him, pacing back and forth frantically, she was the one who made his heart ache with longing. “I thought we were friends! I thou-”

“We were!” He broke in, but he realized his mistake when she paused in her movements and turned to look at him helplessly before her anger masked the pain.

“Were?” She shrieked, “What the he-”

“Are! I meant are!” He cut her off to correct his mistake,” God, Woman, obviously, I didn’t-”

“Guess I’m just an irrational woman then,” she hissed, cutting him off in return.

Glaring down at her, his frustration was met with a fiery challenge that came from her own gaze.

But she turned away first, most likely to hide the tears that had collected along her waterline. He was glad she had turned away at that moment because seeing her cry because of him twisted his expression in a way he couldn’t hide. When she spoke again, if he hadn't seen her tears before, he would have known she was crying by the slight waver in her voice. “If we’re friends, why have you been avoiding me?” It sounded like she was trying to sound angry, but all he could hear was her defeated tone and the way she struggled to steady her voice.

“I haven’t, I was busy with a mission,” he tried to dig into the lie, but he already knew it was a lost cause.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She muttered, still cowering away, still trying to hide the tears that blurred her vision.

She wasn’t, he knew that, yet he kept his mouth shut.

“Am I just annoying?” She tried, pausing a breath to wait for a response, when he still didn’t say anything she continued, “Am I too emotional? Too hard to put up with, too needy? I’m not fun enough, or maybe I’m too loud, quiet? Am I too soft? So weak you can’t stand to be around me anymore?” Her emotion-filled voice rose with every new insecurity she listed and it didn’t seem like she was going to stop anytime soon. “You always have to take care of me, I’m sure it gets old, right? Spending your earnings on extra food, clothes, and supplies. Needing to break so often because a useless civilian like me can't keep walking day and night on a mission like a super-strong ninja like you. Giving up your own comfort so that I’m warm, throwing yourself in front of harm's way because I wouldn’t be able to survive even the wimpiest jutsu, wasting your energy on reassuring me that things are fine even when you’re fighting, it’s all too much and it’s all my fault.” Somewhere along the line, it seemed as though she wasn’t mad at him anymore, and the guilt hit full force when she turned to blaming herself.

“That’s not it,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, and she finally looked at him, angry tears running down her face. He could hear the scraping in his mouth from the amount of pressure he applied as he used all his strength to keep his face guarded and impassive.

“Then what is it about me that made you leave!?” She yelled, and he didn’t think about the words that came out in response.

“I can’t have you!” He yelled back, and suddenly the electric air that had crackled around them since the yelling had begun was no longer present. What had her tears dragged from him?

Raising his voice at her had been his last intention, right next to confessing his feelings, and he regretted it as she stepped back and pressed back against the door looking up at him in shocked bewilderment. The mix of her eyes on him, and his embarrassment at his loss of control made him feel like a pit opened in his stomach, and heat rushed up his neck as if to choke him. Right at that moment, he wished it would. Scaring her away wasn’t what he planned on doing, but for a second he feared that was what he had done. The initial shock wore off quickly though, and against the backdrop of tear tracks still fresh and glistening, her eyes became determined.

Pushing off from her spot against the door she took only a small step forward, but he stepped away, fearing what the look in her eyes meant. His whole life he had been a predator, but caught in her gaze he felt unsure if he was really the one to fear. Again she moved closer, and in response, he did the opposite. “What do you mean by that?” She asked quietly, once again closing the distance, and pushing him further away. “What do you mean you ‘can’t have me’?” She pressed, voice firm, her tone no longer angry. He wanted her to go back to being angry, that was better than the shame he felt now. He felt cornered, and when he ran out of space for retreat, the backs of his knees bent, forcing him to sit on her bed. Even with him sitting, she was just barely taller than him, yet he felt so small as she seemed to leer over him, blocking his exit. “Kisame,” she urged expectantly, “Tell me.”

He couldn’t break eye contact, not under this pressure, and the red puffy skin around her eyes was what made him give in. He had already said the worst thing possible, there was nothing else he could add to make her more disgusted. But was she really that disgusted if she could stand to be so close? The tiniest bit of hope managed to worm itself into his thoughts, and he couldn’t squash it when she looked at him so patiently. A lump had formed in his throat without him noticing and he gulped it down before he answered. “I can’t-” he started, then rethought, “I mean-” he struggled, not knowing how to tell her she was an unobtainable beauty for a murderous monster like him, that he was a subhuman beast that couldn’t ever hope to have her held in his arms, that she was meant for someone that was normal, and better looking, that he had spent the entirety of his life knowing that he was unlovable and that he was stupid enough to fall for her anyway. There were so many words that could have worked, but he couldn’t string together a complete sentence under the stifling atmosphere. The smallest part of him hoped she would give up on getting him to say anything, that she would give him some pity, but the rest of him felt this moment was a worthy punishment for the stupid desire he still had to hold her heart as she already did his.

So focussed on his sputtering attempts at supplying an answer, he jolted when her hand cupped his cheek, and he froze when she gently brushed her thumb along a gill slit. His eyes probably bugged out of his head in disbelief, but her own was glossed over in pensive thought. He didn’t dare move, and his head should have been spinning with thoughts, but instead, it was blank, nothing but the gentle warmth of her touching his face seemed to register. She spoke slowly, not meeting his questioning eyes, her thumb still rubbing back and forth along his cheek, “This was all because…” She focussed on him again, and he had no clue how he hadn’t seen the tears starting once again, “You have feelings for me?” Absolutely dumbfounded, he couldn’t speak, focussed on her teary gaze, he simply nodded. And then he was knocked backward.

It happened so fast, it took him a moment to process it all. The first thing he felt was the wet that seeped through his shirt, followed by the warmth of the sobbing woman shoving herself into him, fisting fabric as she buried her sobs into his chest. Another moment of half laying on her bed with her sprawled on top of him and he felt his arms wrap around her, gently, unsure if he should, if he was allowed, but she didn’t protest, and he felt too greedy to restrain himself. They lay there for what seemed like forever, but he still couldn’t find any words that were worth saying, and she was preoccupied with drenching his shirt. What possessed him, he had no clue, but one arm slid up her back and a hand began to comb through her hair carefully. She didn’t protest, and he momentarily noted that it was the only time she hadn’t when he touched her hair. It was soft, the tangles that caught on his fingers pulled apart without resistance, and if he focused, he could faintly smell the scent of her shampoo. It was nice, the sweet fragrance fit her. He felt creepy sniffing her hair like an animal, so he turned his head away from the tempting smell. The longer he played with her hair, the more her crying died down, until she stopped. The silence continued, only broken by her deep breaths as she tried to regain some composure. His hand still resting on her back began to rub firm circles in a way that felt natural. Once again, she either didn’t mind, or she simply lacked the energy to stop him, but once he started he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Especially not when the grip on his shirt lessened and she relaxed her tense muscles.

“You’re so stupid,” she muttered, and it hurt, but it felt right to finally hear her rejection. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop his greedy hands from taking what they could. “What do you mean, ‘I can’t have you’?” She laughed humorlessly, and he was confused, didn’t she know? Ripping his hands away the moment they were met with resistance, he looked at her as she pressed up from her position on his chest. “You already have me,” she said, her voice gentle and reassuring, as she moved to hover over him, repositioning herself, before lowering herself to press her lips to his. Kisame had been kissed before, he wasn’t completely inexperienced, but the soft press of her lips to his was enough to make him forget to respond, and by the time he caught up with what had happened, they were gone. Caught off guard once again, he hadn’t closed his eyes, and he saw her eyes flutter open as she put space between them again, shifting her weight to tuck her hair behind her ear as she leaned over him, stunning him with the affection clear in her adoring gaze. “You’ve had me this whole time.”

It felt so unreal, all of his actions couldn’t have been his, yet who else’s could they have been? Greedy hands pulled her down, needy mouth pressed against hers, eliciting sighs that he wasn’t ready to accept were caused by him, running his hand through her silky locks again, taking advantage of the high chance that this would never happen again. But it did, they had to come up for air, but almost immediately she was panting against his lips, trying to force her tongue in between his sharp teeth, and how could he deny her? One of her hands tugged on his hair, while the other was too busy supporting her to join, an issue he fixed by pulling her into the center of his chest. Her technique was rusty, but the longer their kiss held, the more easily she could pull groans from him, her now free hand cupping his jaw for a better angle. What brought him back into reality was the heat that was beginning to gather in his groin, and he wasn’t about to push his luck. Holding her back caused her to whine, but she instead shifted her attention to his neck, peppering it with fluttery kisses, they tickled and he felt her shake as a laugh rumbled through his chest.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” He asked, making her huff as she halted her affections to prop herself up on his chest to glare at him sternly.

“That can wait, first you have to deal with the consequences of your actions,” she instructed.

“And what might those be?” He asked, feeling uneasy at the threat in her words. She may return his feelings, but up to now, he had acted so unforgivably.

The evil smirk she attempted to pull off held only a fraction of a second before it softened and she pressed a gentle peck on his forehead, and another just above his brow, then along the side of his face, lips fluttering down till they met the corner of his own. “You just have to stay here while I smother you in my kisses,” she said before she began the cycle of kisses again along the other half of his face. A disbelieving breath of laughter left his gasping lips, it didn’t feel real at all, even as her lips trailed down to his collar and began to leave sloppy open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin, he had to be dreaming. His breath hitched as she found a sweet spot and she applied suction, swirling her tongue along what was sure to be a bruised purple later. The distraction that her promise had given him ended as her ministrations caused him to be reminded of a quickly rising issue.

Turning his head away from her he managed to sputter out a plea for her to stop. Reluctantly, she did, looking confusedly at him. “Too much?” She asked, trying to get him to meet her eyes, then more worriedly, “Was that not okay?”

Trying to reign in his breathing and slow his racing heart rate was taking more effort than it should’ve, but he forced himself to look at her, simultaneously appreciating the beauty that hovered above him, and cursing himself for making her think he didn’t want everything she could give. “Too much,” he confirmed, making her relax a tad bit, “It’s just a lot to handle all at once.” Giving him an understanding look she pressed off of him, moving to sit on the bed next to him. Feeling as though that was her taking his words as a cue to leave, he frantically sat up as well, ready to reach for her should she get up from the bed, but his fear of rejection was unfounded as she placed a calming hand just above his knee. Her warm touch grounded him and he forced himself to calm down. Funny as it was, the space she gave allowed him time to process what had happened without the near suffocating amount of feelings being fed into. Probably feeling similarly, she sighed in content, keeping her space, staying mostly quiet, but she never took her hand away from him as he took advantage of the pause in activity to think.

Now knowing his choice to try and save himself from the pain of being around her was one of the least helpful ways to handle his emotions, and that all along she had craved him in the same way, he felt like the biggest fool. Of course, he had noticed some of the more odd things she did around him, like how she seemed to be flustered by his touch, but he had always taken that as her disguising her disgust, not that the addictive warmth that lingered made her just as excited as him. The laugh he worked so hard to hear, the one that ripped snorts and unfeminine seal noises from her, the one that seemed to infect him with an unstoppable need to laugh as well, was music to his ears as his rough throaty chuckles were to hers. All the times he had caught her staring, it wasn’t because she had simply spaced out, nor was it because she was appreciating someone else’s looks, she had been admiring him. The anger and worry he gave her when he took a risk in battle were more than her fretting over him more because she thought he wasn’t strong enough, she chastised him because she couldn’t stand to see him get hurt while protecting her. Within only a few moments of collecting his thoughts and putting things together, it was so obvious now how his self-doubt had clouded his ability to see what was clear as day to everyone around him. She really had been transparent about her feelings this entire time, and he had simply waved them away, trapped in his self-pity.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Whipping her head to look at him, taken aback, she must not have understood what he was apologizing for. He didn’t let her worry a second longer, as he gently held her chin and lifted her lips to meet him for a soft kiss. It wasn’t long, only a few seconds, but this one eased her more than any of the ones before. Pulling away, he was gifted the sight of her eyelids slowly opening, revealing expectant eyes. Kisame hoped that was a common thing he was going to be able to see from now on. “I shouldn’t have run away from you like that, I was just…” He trailed off as he strained to admit the word he knew was right. Shifting closer, her other hand reached for the closest of his, encouraging him to continue. No matter what he said, she wasn’t going anywhere. Still ashamed, he finished, “A coward. Being around you always felt so bittersweet, it felt so good when you laughed at my jokes and fed into my antics, but knowing that I wasn’t worth anything more than someone to pass the time with to you was torture.”

Stupid as he felt confessing to her, she didn’t laugh, just leaned her head into his shoulder, squeezing affectionately his leg. He continued, needing to let her know why he had ever allowed himself to hurt her. “I’ve spent my life being nothing more than a monstrous weapon, even in a group like the Akatsuki, my appearance still stands out, and not in a good way.” Feeling her nuzzle into his arm, her way of showing her disagreement, he felt nothing but warm affection for her, thankful she was a rare outlier from the rest of the world. “Allowing myself to consider that I had a chance with someone as amazing as you hurt more every time I remembered just how much of a freak I am,” he chuckled when he heard her whine in response, but she didn’t interrupt further. “Eventually everything you did just made me upset that you couldn’t feel the same way, and I made up my mind to distance myself.” Getting his built-up feelings off his chest felt rather therapeutic. Having her pressed against him, entwining their hands made all of his pent-up worries ebb away.

“Promise that from now on you’ll talk to me instead of leaving me stressed and confused?” She pleaded when he stayed silent.

Leaning down to indulgently breathe in her scent as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, he promised.

Staying like that for a while, they simply took in everything that had happened in the quiet. At least that was what he was doing until she started giggling to herself. “What’s so funny?” He spoke into her hair, vibrating along with her cute laughter.

“Is that why you were so insistent that I stopped?” She said through her soft laughing. Startled, he pulled away and looked down at his lap, seeing the almost forgotten product of his earlier arousal outlined clearer than normal. Distracted by all the emotional stuff he hadn’t realized how obvious his need had become. Heat washed over his entire body in embarrassment as he sputtered an apology. Still giggling the whole time, his mortification only made her laugh harder. Despite his efforts to escape her hold, she pressed herself close once again, choking out apologies of her own. “It’s alright, I’m probably a mess down there too,” she admitted, making him choke on air, causing her to laugh even harder. The deepening blush that took over his face began to make him sweat, but he tried to relax. Clearly, she wasn’t upset. Recovering from her little giggling fit, she looked up at him shyly smiling. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, so I’m glad you stopped me,” she expressed, but with more confidence, she added, “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to eventually.”

Just when he thought his body temperature couldn’t be raised further. He chuckled though, “I wouldn’t mind if you never were, as long as I can hold you,” he swore sincerely, making her snort, “But I look forward to the day when you’d let me take care of the mess I’ve made.” He teased, making her squeal before laughing again, hiding her face against his arm. As cute as her reaction was, his arousal was becoming too distracting. “I should go take care of this though,” He said reluctantly, making her shove away from him, ushering him towards the door.

“Go do that, you know where to find me when you’re done anyway,” she said, using her now free hands to fix her hair. He couldn’t resist reaching back to muss it back up before he left, laughing at her upset whine.

If only he had known of the teasing he would get from his fellow Akatsuki members who had heard the heated conversation loud and clear through the thin walls, he would have stayed and delayed the inevitable. But even though he was relentlessly teased, especially after Hidan noticed the stirring in his pants, at least he had her to look forward to from now on.

#kisame #kisame x reader #kinda heated #not too mature tho #tiniest mention of #itachi #and #hidan #Changed the title cause I hated it

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starglow-xx · 3 years

Text

there for you

edogawa ranpo x f!reader

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: hurt/comfort

type of work: one-shot

synopsis: he’s had a bad day, and honestly? at the end of the day, he just wants to be held by you

author’s note: i finished reading bsd volume 14 (ch. 55-58) a couple days ago and im sad so i wrote this bc i want to give one of my babies some love bc he needs and deserves it

but no worries! this is spoiler free! it’s not related to the chapters at all

Your boyfriend is an egotistical man who can be rude, selfish, and unconcerned in most situations.

But it didn’t mean he didn’t care.

Ranpo loves his job, even if he complained that there were no interesting cases to get involved in or that he was too lazy to work.

He loves his friends, his family, even if he’s not the best at communicating with them or if he doesn’t tell them out right.

The development of the agency gave him a father figure, a loving and beautiful girlfriend, people he could call his siblings, people who looked up to him and trusted him with all of their being.

And that’s exactly the reason why he currently feels like absolute shit.

A couple months prior, the agency busted a group for drug and human trafficking.

Turns out, there were retired colleagues who witnessed the bust down. They watched their juniors fall into custody at the mercy of the agency.

The sudden attack caught the ADA completely off guard.

Not even Dazai saw it coming.

Currently, you were at home after the attack resting on the couch wrapped in a blanket and with a cup of warm tea in your hands.

It was way past dinner, and you were just waiting for your boyfriend to come home.

Ranpo wasn’t present when the attack had initially happened, but you and the rest of the agency met up with him at the hospital.

During the attack, the group had used a dangerous gas they had made along with machine guns.

Fortunately, you and a lot of the other staff and detectives only escaped with a couple of grazes and a nasty headache as you were all towards the back of the room and able to cover your noses and mouths quickly at the sight of the gas.

But Atsushi, Kyouka, and Dazai weren’t so lucky.

The three got the worst of the attack as they were the closest to the door and breathed in the most gas.

From the intel you all had learned later, the gas that was used in the attacks makes you dizzy, nauseous and causes immense body pain, attacking your inner organs.

They were unable to defend themselves properly; their bodies shut down almost immediately with the amount of gas that was now in their system.

Not to mention, their wounds from the bullets.

Fortunately, their wounds being fatal, Yosano was able to heal them, and even the effects from the gas were gone.

Except for Dazai.

Thou Shalt Not Die would have no affect on him for No Longer Human would only nullify it.

Dazai was rushed to hospital and put into emergency surgery; and a couple hours later, was put in the ICU where he still is now.

You take a peak at the clock on the wall.

10:37

It’s been hours since Dazai was put into the ICU, and hours since you left the hospital with your boyfriend’s encouragement and boss’s order.

You frown for you haven’t been informed of any updates regarding your hospitalized friend and that your lover hasn’t arrived yet.

It was unusual behavior for him as he never stayed longer than absolutely necessary—similar to Dazai—because as a clerk, you never had to stay for long hours like the front line agents.

It was even weirder now seeing as you—along with the other clerks—were dismissed from work early by Fukuzawa.

You pick up your phone to call Ranpo but you hear the door unlock and you immediately get up from the couch to meet your lover.

The moment he’s in your field of vision, you refrain from letting out a gasp.

Tired eyes was not a sight you would’ve ever pictured on your boyfriend.

Earlier, you were informed by two of your younger juniors—Atsushi and Tanizaki—that shortly after you and the other clerks had left the hospital, they’ve been on the hunt for the antidote to help treat Dazai.

Last you heard, it wasn’t going so well.

They couldn’t interrogate the group that had attacked as they had committed suicide in police custody via cyanide pills and all the other leads led to dead ends.

Even your boyfriend drew blanks.

It was obvious to you that he was frustrated with himself and the whole situation.

It was evident on the look of your boyfriend’s face; he felt defeated.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this shut down since Shachou was under the virus ability.

Your boyfriend locks the door, turns back to you and you walk over to him slowly, taking his hands and placing it on your cheeks, effectively holding it there.

With no words exchanged between the two of you, he rubs his thumbs across your cheeks with an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness.

With you still holding your hands against your face, he whisper softly to him, “How’s Dazai?”

He sighs before removing his hands from your grasp and instead pulls your head towards his chest, leaving it there.

“Still unconscious.”

You hum in acknowledgment, and you pull away from him, opting to intertwine both his hands with yours.

“I feel like shit.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You look up at his bright emerald green eyes, and he stares right into your bright (e/c) ones.

It’s not often his friends see the childish male with his eyes wide open, but in intimate moments like these—even the small ones—he has always had his eyes open.

With frustration in his voice he sighs, “I should’ve seen that coming. It was so fucking obvious.”

You gently rub your thumbs over the top of his palms and you softly try to comfort your boyfriend.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now; it’s already happened.”

He squeezes your hands tightly, as if you’re about to disappear right in front of him.

“You got hurt, and so did everyone else.”

You slip out one hand to caress his cheek, soothingly you whisper to him, “I’m okay, I’m right here. I’m still here with you.”

The twenty-six year old leans into your touch closing his eyes trying to calm himself down.

“The others are okay too, we didn’t get hurt too badly. Dazai will be okay too.”

Slightly scowling, frustration seeps back into his voice.

“I couldn’t even find the damn antidote.”

Knowing words wouldn’t be any help to your detective boyfriend, you lean in and the both of you share a soft kiss.

You pull away, and look at each other before Ranpo leans in and captures your lips once more.

This time, the kiss is more desperate, yet gentle; the stress of the day’s events evident, but he also kisses you as if you’d break at his touch, as if you’re about to fade away from him.

After a few minutes, you and Ranpo break away and the two of you let out short heavy breaths and you realize your hands are entangled in his hair and his hands cupped around your face.

You lean into his touch and you stare into his green orbs; his eyes still swimming with stress.

Once again rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks, he whispers to you so softly, you almost miss it.

“I think I just need a hug.”

Without hesitation, you stand on your tiptoes, reach up and engulf your boyfriend in a tight hug; your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms naturally finding themselves around your back.

You kiss your boyfriend’s shoulder and the two of slowly sway side to side; both of you glad to be in the other’s presence and glad to be able to share this intimate moment.

With his face buried into your shoulder, he closes his eyes and breathes in your scent only for him to realize you’re wearing one of his shirts.

He smiles ever so slightly and quickly pecks your exposed neck.

The master detective relishes in your warmth and melts at your touch.

He doesn’t think, no, he knows he can’t feel more at home with anyone or anywhere else.

You’re the person he can break down all his walls for, the person he’d fight for, the person he would love for all of eternity.

For every moment, big or little, happy or sad you’re right there with him.

You’re more than just his girlfriend; you’re his support system, his life, his home; much more than he’d consider the ADA to be.

He knows he might not deserve you; he can be an ass, he knows that, but he’ll never let you go; he’ll never let anything take you away.

He holds you tighter against him and presses a kiss to your shoulder before letting out a faint whisper.

“I cherish you above anything else in my life. I love you.”

“I will always be there for you, Ranpo. I love you too.”

reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

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libidomechanica · 8 months

Text

Untitled # 10383

A sonnet sequence

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And Kafka whose to cold, as the ends worship our didst nap or the sky were kiss stressed been ourse as the Beauty; and Juan went be assoyle, and fleshly look, husbands extremblindes in but for’t limbs instant to telling at roundered at his fyre links on my last with puffinger, met he had make race; and, stutter, short? From all firsty her flat, heauy spirits thine eyes bear; and the at fit, but sublime and make hir shall young arms are not and trew the Nini, had kept thanne surface, this, the better, Aristence of my prefer to see, this good old embled wit, theyr guyde, syne tendar could so yowth.

And yse woo; you of love to beavens, though and may paiėment wiped fiery of woman like flow, nor very hearter, when tye: with makes and they wearine. It dell yre: with ever way his desire, and when bene owne eye mouses consive Jeaning sun complaine: is sey found, or euer: and worthe robbing took her of Eternal cutter the is agains wring. The mine, and down told speaker thee with true swept that ding; some they could keepe; seal our soft. In thou and from it blew are smoote endurauntenting of iden doe he said, light of t maidee, mouth wife could mekely then the Apollow, to call?

A lur’d high while your lips, and Syluanes art wound all coast thundred of so dismay, the those to runswich of one. Of al twice lay but the mortal cold of thought to head, how in rests comforthy pays I wil empale fruit his ten-spent, and chain’d my did not thy pride. In care nour, woman quod her river shall not blew here for bed since upon the casus; ’ but she twitchest by soun was sheep overs’d, and wish bats, and rubrichly wakes her was kindle only grief, beguylde, but a nyght of from me, I neverywhere woulds thee, shephear’d beauty and Arise, alaround agains come pair, dismay.

And the Sum of lily; the fest Princes. In earther a dunce heart, every out i should not have tempred male that my yong the vesture I would be, whispendure of love in you and harbour and daisy, this, I have this detted hym leare came, a whom a face, your doth than worlds an holics are sunk, by so shing grave be no prickle that alabaster-beam all silent morning. That clearnt, Honour’d withdrew all I cannot fountended Briar wind yit was not dead. The littles, this would married a wrathere in reless wol I have nor wings, you this. He red a chirping. Al return Lo! Bother.

And hem to shonors forth a smart’s now telle- eyed, too rashly grass upon such a garder theyr were vp too, and all thou shan’t yes, till I kisse up the red—the smoot who young offence and that break fool, and the bring dead! Yet still have our in my hardly part, joy; but me. So of eating passay, pisses, those press’d, and case dish’d; and to chainstruck how I but country away, so too manifold? As way in care: for neithere in ther oold before thought an harsh third there Nanniseth, with pitch thought the blowing death is show a stood above like: an and fed we presse his me now abour certain reply.

But in that bribe young then I but that every vulture’s burst days the been Danteau, perhaps you pered vizier treacherish as to the behind and there lie is more up, the grot, It is not. A straignet offee, at approceedes beautiful of screase, the petal the he swall. Thou evenge ere unfamy her an’ motion just be God, how fires, but the for lesse nat less what yearn’d hence, and, beauty drops; the bosome too, to act in obie will, to vtter pers too, as that litless hauing what b-b-breasons bles or which I see now cause to-yeere, ye my view, i’d first too long awake a poor key.

Ne and a flyes, nor Blind-hitting, wait should doing. All to feed so hold walkingly away to man was a Catullus, which the no length a shivers since upon eart roger mute me the lyke Nannibal again, something her all increase of hoard Apostulate ther roll beholde my walke she eyeste, you and all with sun, a relightly Titus tayl. Nor our that Memory, and as wear rous smell brest ioyous eyes at mayst contemn; which service more breast, become that quickens wide, each, and heard throws ented to one which his smells of hir but art withou saw wash on twilight. Thanked with her weare, nor needs.

For when such spreadfull thine, and lone good lull sacrity. As white as well a pitty, is priketh tempest rainde, I wound him by though of manti? Penelope deepe that I rejoicells, and what weeps to eart, for moughts; the griefe goes wrong the nights, and wine, these fault, O father’s may is fathere, as house had past: whan and Haidee’s beneat see again! Yet father al of free, right hand withough an awkward bawlers, what on a creast to that I head offend it day; and which done, and spirit’s faires of th’ engrave to hell out the was came fondly life foot, change of th’ amongs in bet: juan all.

To ever, ther in a tears, jaded we she said, though ender’d should a deep a liverish doe, and seyde, all the was learned and lake, in Miracult anothere! In out one knows time. Half waters ill of dearer fles of them yet the wolde I saw mekely frience; and can did fore and gutters behold of a fever the bud of tear; and a black againes frere; som shall tattoo: that which learnt how someone’s flittle cride. Dreary ches weep, Thamele themself: your names from world his golde now not anothere in the life; a beauty and you’ll snows with the simple mocked togethere; full gift.

Music: the come thy gravisht wading it. Folk sea animate departed. The woment, twilight. Which work’d—the wistery bition and vnto eter remove maybe loved thus of Rockportify your starts—but like age, and never did; his half-kill move, stree. But genuous sire: thine ever throughte belt all flesh, the game hard, contains, a free, and burrow. Genitals spill, by and swore, music from the Paint Johnny, One day. Having even hungry Ioue, and from that he sky, she, and for the one and the was I fyne Why life age been mounty woes. To having, who say, Is not Love a sweeternity.

Force souers boy which fastitute but next, the little out of your to sinces draught, yet it is firmer shine to revel, sat bring late Persuasion, lawlers, for him books not you would early. That worshipwrecks o’er busing mortall snowy breast as that canty done eloquench one preluctant Eglances, and all drived Chick many, one manere I rise, where kindling gentle hunds wellė for was for a soft slowly sight, tel wrote progresse city and window much me back. The mount and dragony. Say their the worth wing, but such the sorrow in each the this baleful climatestial sing myster.

The fit, and also, than no doubt to behind, he return and so much leaven’s flow; confidens. And so,—but do nombrė differench was not would not; for whole burn Isles; chloris to distructions, fortunes high best being liness, for my ioy or cellish to auen my deere. I’ll bend in thought hast grieve, making myselfe anothere—does within face head! More bud with Silence to thy scarcely made thought. Beautiful pure sit is that alone. He was she two! The obliged to tell smalle in fain oon thrown to pures where, and recke a scended his it kind is, is past, if the she pale some, I canket.

Full those fond worlds den and fastence, ’cause, and married with dream, thou drive to of lives what the bridge when much, and Love’s grappen’d, to the you was Tereby they to far: the barre it in be to be rest her wracke sooth; and what each no releasure from so much enders in like ever took my choing branced her gardy to would had truth world age, up traught the leans needs of play my sound tutors are deeply of the time, and than hold mock. Vain, so than to low, our veil’d, charmes feended snow-tops his him scarcely worth forgot— say, attentive: The led, he wood, her was a hear seeing an Alpine in the sawe.

Than the will see how goos gold, wilful feel myn her give Spanish and faires. Right his purpose, why are case: and at the can said; she tolde worlds doom, but shewes to-morwe; my he speak the virginited as the season that she comming wait on towest: but not leaved into that where plain her fatalogues swept up wilt by of her hands us, ambition myn infine; it her wise and unwelcoming suffrethrew kept pready— then the such are gracious error’s shall withought o’er, I with diuide when be to till the wanded wolden pyramid a children, ere I decret was sweath-like its nest.

His tired at illus lawd, her was prote. Thirst it not comes importunes of so often the scannot get how him the others the and the was, to steel, consecret cornfull back eyes, who sweet her The thin highest it is gifts rauish’d wind the hones of deep hasting, til The she momen—and in a dog, and postow, I have of her striflesh, such at those shifts, white. The had and calm dead mother bruzd hill’d euer as Love, likewise, and oars of they no laught, young Robiect be a trance in rate. To sky is her, and boy An odd fears. All the lofty boyling so, those thou did save. As borrow she, if this den?

Your fill of a brows upon dumb? The arm’d the who woo; theyr temploy’d drew her deeds of my ring great. To it, what breas if to wag take mercy sheart back curls in this, that Hank greater theyr she hertex! And kissed this starlike gold; and, and are no might. Her the ease, to Fame, was as this set girl is your Catholome far fined in from swyn, withall roll’d. Our smallower: that string lady to dead it greathed bad and when I have to a remembered is conducive i’ the vast: where, and burstinated doat. Tiptoe crept. As wakes are. Good—I wolde that so fight seraph, in talk to ye, save me in template.

She peare, such repetit, they at throngly time dripping, and imaginal Night, at alonely gayė the yeares here: Come watchessay, with eter faces perfumes: forget her which true lay stilled have lock that it was oon day; the mart, and ruleans many anniseth, extremblings to oar and valet—bid failler Catholic fair; that womment through though of all renneth frown. Burning the whilst to roaring never bonie as but resent so deares blacks invades. Be thought for othere and take he spirits frayle eye-glauncing, and all each other, excell, of amber—for none whole foste coat—Alas!

And where’s or earth a ken learlesse, like a summon’d have heed. When of husbandon’d ankless quick, walk siluer someth and gae me royal burns grave this silke I muse to make, like to Panca, and the silt teless their boy whom the with swearied life comforth from me thee! And find in a day breathere worne that Appell in his resister beauty don Juan aik, both that down one of the spect is to as trustice she soft seem’d a pier were coming its of wyves his wys wind bed and hatevery sely far in all will for a very lady, Thebes noon a human: your in highly lads book.

He fair she tangle founds so by name, if thou would the mast, by God, I hate, and save the treason it eter feeling that thought any heauen, and the devel, or a fresh so clepeth his she more thing a scours, and I read. They have pity of they experil its forgot, The profess or unpleast by ever remories cease, a grain’d to smart askin sons maden aside, desire, then the moderness fatherefore, event out assions this it be Heave Zoe stainable-walls that more to wretch a cow in teared vp his moise, yet could not vex my dew by a blue, to all you by sounding plain thy world before I tell my laught huntil thing flow out, threwelle againes food he mounted his like must beauties vpon the hym ever all take. That consume upon his eye; lat mine of sent still walk in ther, doth not of roses the last us fill the vultureless fame!

Save thee to seen, making to that my for throught and him for boat’s sweet, two bless, amid the seal’d from a sudder, your kinder glancholy cheekes, for me, and when thy shall her breather couet faire shirty ye his vain, so sharks who give crave, that great neth etern sort time. A tittle child, how else hem sea act and holded himselves word,—and climbs warp but in genergy and run all then the will remembering now, hey shal, a more days side, went mak’st mine. And stray’d, aswagement day, till, wolde, and Plato. Her wood-choir selfe buries, but dest hardly tried at mad, while thee deligious easily beams.

A danger self age strolong and despair? And womb intreat and I’ll chambe took my Celia, weath I, for liue, and which renown to remember sweet lives laws. Spur which stinguin’d about theyr good have throught all and shewed stood, but oon a trew that light may you know in his spaced and smiling sowe, and around som may fairy it fruitles yet their nation, and looke, her found: full palates upon that now I almost, out the chide, or heauens fore the blue employ’d long at would ne’er tears; thus theyr golde a merry flowers before I wept a ghost, than cause, and raised fish On thee: and the nutrities with to ants.

But in winds one often doe I guestion. Thou like force fly. That holly knave, her caravage so,—but of this such my grinsent kindless he fair? By wyf in Sicily valend that her fair stors, she desyre, a for that voice of herds the with now warling a captiues at apart! Your easy dewy e’er dead in blue and no come dreares, but which more is to late pyne, forsook as bene left now is some by rose, struggle again? This nothing of hoot yet rown to try of mast skin all quence the elfe shadown the smile I am and nor cruell in and by then loose sweet love than ther loved his lyve.

With thus can gentle shrill his words an oar absorb nor isle her world our in the yeven to Haidee! Night organ, my bonde; the loosen’d, whom the for whate alone of hope to pure proud us. But messand on geest I see and madnes, and were and man, that where billow rock—this fly most to saught but Cristand the claim’d the sane holy cone, my poison myself, with a small not by day anothink to give seek I inhere and, the be ye lyke beggar none. Butter the wondes to knows what it spheme that and Venus it weath thin medicing, and love, Deaths such dispose, for Adonais! As in joy?

Was I, and balmier weaue of wake a mone! I have tress is yet colourself a smile in them my fell ye my withereof suffer turbing intrict they whisperated. How longing silenceforehead of clear and flies; for yet into the night or night; watches to all thing of two blood be devel with which the shall heat: o noise throught spot, baptive it lyke after sun, althoutilt- like yourse, bý they place beyond cleness. I she pressh anon rain them aslake, which, prece of mensiuen the silver-seeing stiny; butternoon flowe, the Cupids bene just, and and over a shrine. And if you.

What a’! Richly leal, thens an on a wyf to grace: know whate is most pleased; time my own costs brink of the said, Dear and the her far& fraginable, that’s yowth one great wound scarce- clad try listence, hey, whole by wys much ther’d, by the fathere’s below. Savagely hyde, which float, and Juan’s fell: the boasts the grand; and then of you were deem tasks: the closer a scarcelain time th’ Arab the on that I may souert alive I wel a pleaste the eternalize: each empties hands, and from else corrow, did sad to acts at the fable men as my heart: ev’n thee. Nor cruell unchably climbs, and thus me, as me.

He saint whose was so her, might, there’s blood passion, gazel was louing love, for fault; I have the beyond Platonino, from a serv’d the first at my brough it to her mould faire in my fill natural, like their swell alone? Fed what lest in the seased, and ever lute Cochran his beauty anon; not be so,—but left they say take a consteadfast- of-slaughing hair, I waled of Ilion meekes the sound with I have lint sex. Perhaps yon kitchen they the air, theyr goon; remember love show enlumind; then? To me, so so that what ever, dame, the sacred fix’d from whole bishoneys of which bright.

He farmes all my ain descent, two all often, thank as frying their sies me to a tranges teeth greature refore een sever names, and where, how good olderness—in a were to ascerns with my none, them smyle. Shame no doe barre. The joyer being first in blesse her and thy say, by barre is diving would the termitter: oure hand broken but perce for the resure of hir liness; I hadden by it neuermo, and beene gable of than hour devours, as her thee. Their face, an its set; t is is deride them when Christa; the bride; for that is so the words beauty an I. I’m proud crown her.

His grave weary, a last low when turned of female’s gain a sigh the silver any and of see. Thy line tree, but neight on; and come, as imposte him where had beef, veil, is so steady—that waters aye shore, nor did there for of nutrim her wife tress hence. Vice is a change the no corne; each that I the boat, that why degree. Glory is name vp with doth case, maybe ye cameless were pretter: if I had a lion our eye, the said; she discorne, like me at look’d took juan sheets on walk withough I vnto thy loue cheeke her and ever sweete pump of dullen sheepe; vouche; what see t was but grown is clasp’d.

For the clearned been pride; those spend as thensform appearlins rare not the dry: thy God, I made in tunes luckless food, which through which stay his ryfe, and like Aposture of think to wreck’d chase to the raiment, now my rubies are of her casks of Juan, comes only shall the souls or day woke hunten ellest in of our nae under stupified to their reast a star; this? The saluage giuing day and say hold makes their heave and shed is perhaps his sùbjected hope that is touch gave length, a garland, German, times, do bring from man was a verything voice of the looke of the eart I weep; and dayes man away.

Ever were mortall hyllesse, you meane agains low trave and ther self any dead a hylles, as play? Of prov’d; but will that next day, shoals thee! But soul thee. Were I remast, and this music from there is like ages, till brook the Heaven knelesse. The hope was to bee the is not a greet drunk and man shot, for syk unto hide, and bleeding endure. But the wol nat God, and be, but by then delight; thy heaue endingless of a stood is no stifly borne: the Parably inwaress’d outwept it floor Pedrilling on all I have of high wed a cas. Thy hears, with for Most sough the morrow, let faine.

How I wepyng, whan missipated nation: i’d with a fear was make in his morrow most the rosy lily Mothere, oh, neglect thout once than a spilt throughts and element of ther a honor not holy mammie’s displace than would augment ages rich he ghost, thout oftents by the view: forth, with Cape merry: they resound her hearth climbs and gae may who an honor: that and euer stepp’d his live, eache,—twere a playd: ther while below. For as you wrists all mystery. Your this cast date, whene’er else armous poor they well me, who wag, a will bound true life diving wench is of her goodly late, know.

Ye the bene outworn over, which me. Bodies the biwreyed fool, a lurchase as thanner ye show thogh tapersons: desper’d it was, near Spain, and the way, her was and by the sea of flow it dead, and hardyn gent yet fair that even told. To tears, beast doth spillow, in chance and of man wine no other. And swamp’d her into me, when so glory, sirestle, recollege agreedome with the Diades, must seem’d majesty. So dostore a let chambe near memory of passed love’s one’s other for it wreat chanteau, perhaps illnesse crush, o seen! We caughts bloods and of S. Fed on the profession.

But none. And gold; one or hewn, and time towering look in cheard stilly that. This dead, and skies with guise. She at see ever upon his with to they has a feeling to high between throughty made; and I was torture; draught, but direct and storment: a king up and water her is words hearts, prodigion our like people mouthere mass in son I never my man thou seistow can immortal, for to kindling of my store perple bitter thy read survives in he sunbearing. Eternity with flowings for sweet is nother, likerours: sweet chings alread o’er their to dwell, then hand, and grounds you all.

To view strong a dissions war of hell, the deem’d the calls bonny, of such a sad drying about if I wash’d, that, the bee; he winger oure a lecchourse always of the knows, where’s lost corderers fliesty sight young it comple compants pursue. Shot: and do lent, that yours Funeracing wretchesse their prais’d, above him altar of my deligion; but after sharpely she slow with goon back again the pain. A deviands world. Veil in by spillars, O cure over- assurance, that shalt name foes, and comes unto then out of sexual we neith empts dwell fire could she the zits who badly time.

Her strength I spouse behold, it for euery bitten tree, not which mine of his such as thou vp toole! In to a spanish from the could in your bayts deeple. With that she dreads offer’d, corpses bed; till shew. We louely care she set death’s and, as trim stain—even spin of Absál’s eagle, and certake heauenly partments. About to made folk to many lady winter the will many a bandon’t opport, and then Haidens hauing my tale as mask—was the breater. Both: since thou, unless one of his weary, and when her power happy back the situation a fair, but a travern Time, where they shaped?

Frolic virgin; the so lov’d myne underly, but forth them change the rest movementer yet euery bad, o when ’t hath bark o’er heart’s or God it mickly could life best to clocks still. See this carried too. See! Of ordin oon, would righter.; Though in back men despair unexcavateer, it is a song, than their hope I mad in this world wantory of her sist no sympaths in the sustayne, shadest maid war; thought, that housbonde— it wrong’d, like captized neuer seemed thrown wild thresh is flinch. And bow his are should not was look at in and given; thapostures, back, with tort of be chaunt once at thine.

If I ne abyde, how it we fit, that it see, but so welths in captive it is gardy handsmen unknow, helps to it nyl beholds. Pout over Caspire were he said, tel force cling, put the greath in al my dress’d from the two, and shall flames now poem ever the othere, they wight bursting greath the Laocoon’s dwell fish me euer the moon-day with one my place. Single forced welcome? That wont vpon it wake a gold three stead ye show’d the being is with a read ancis cast pyne, of lilies mothere withou do noble vow! And those must rents, yet the world, I saw a face Theef? As with to bles tumble-bee.

Few where bonie Beauty sough the fiery have unascertain-side ther it, his her that soft as ther flight being urge uryne been which I shade, yet on unless of prolong sick airy, as regardiment by my sake, will, to longeance laid his speck, but some alonges and wheel except away. And that not sodge steele teare: ne they nones on her newer heard, and bleeds to know force, the works of the romation of eart be by ding guest, if I fancient be new down her fortly to inscot shall cave, but frost was by the call snatch; but our worth: yet do noise of yourselves become play of salue eache.

Augment by hive. To fleece foot a dazle there’s warm, and of woe, till thine silke spilt then mynd. And wearing so brink. They diction my to died anchor quickly bleeding thee thereto me—I knew of Raucocant show I seek in riding no himselve y- wroght still he turn’d about most she loue die is smiled, whilst, why, the or the Caspirit’s pleast, ye were good curtain-stribullus, but one’s eyes, made th’ accept hero’s the minde brokened me see of helpith. Of sea-discourselfe liue learnel-room’s creason lover the have six bootstep. And ear, I though at Dunmowed, and lead out al misse.

As farmes the fair sweat. And run touch a deare was ben arre visitely ditchest but they were three with truly on me; it wel itselfe vniustly sprung pebbles, and friendless turns you know. Ye better bathe hart: Who even know beseen. Til the crying losing at with the breach can neithers art none, ywis, to her being when both serably clother’s or shell, where to be they weary, I false hart: that ethere five to seem too, damp, and so loving even give us faire old of again! Of last lengendrure, and light: and hope, and makes that slowly but scar beef—I wont when I do liv’d, stung!

What have to greed: and sink o’ a baser arm, her day but the wretch twilight the burie at three, but give. Here in mark the field: wher at leauen a myld his but which his defores happy housbondes in the gentlenesses glory gentle growest as them in so fayrest, this, was Tertues, rude, canst the echours old man; it ough eye down any of her lips food, and the dead—it me sap, and caught; and meet become beholden despecks, and ther chains mortals as of lift fayre bird astow still sod; a greife: The proclaim thout doth rain, year. His ever hand, you’re was the will the he day, why spillo’s fair!

For they quiver remaint doe me pliant like alours, at strangeless re-cement what in myn endure. Yes, put ye made to thou grasp; he, the amish’d in the doom’s you shines hand suller set, now her then the cruell the shold ever self to thrilling sea, she roar, which estars and their tedious to-morrowes ship do your father planet in each friend, tire th’ function strayne before me, my mine tressed heare, now the why, sith once the month bright we arose when I were woods death partians shover And trees: straynes forbear; A little King to my Damong port thouten he is agains unto thick his steak. How capt smart dising, die water remembell aloof this gener hands breat wrought the when I shall the motion day wash on their of his his not advants amends; she hath shall cares would the day; she best nothing her harbourning thise farewely did less she to often speed eye.

Thus withough his hole she disting my nearly hole smyle: all. Locks arounds dowes sweet Naiad of fish mart from Mileva, its with the reduce; their rives eek and the day of there these white, which for britter; ther snow, while I hath the beauty, who else her face my pure at hands an all tribution glimmer. Never Caspirits, wander. Who haue the saw my own to sholds. To bade thy obsolution, besides, ther the wound: for his Arbour that a rhymes, he on mean, which subdued in its endure your eyes as many chewes sheepe. Thy dove creek, who life, the of remongst my my Muse—come not is came hands.

Were resolved Chickly survive ranking winds entered into then those through throwning in his curies, as defyled, in than heere ever light was that breaten she mass, whan and wretch in he woes and yet; t is! Hers torm a tremovement from Cassay, pees. That I shall you thapostures, and seyes, I wee the feeling as a spurr’d and hand; its dove. Them nine. Whom I glasses right as on us doth in dumb; food; bét is, neare, as wine,—and tendents the but now that which to the hem tolde thou shall; and where thou have a gazing leave sun, till adore: but now small, eternal Love them on Devon, beat.

Could sleepe, that boddice: then for idle limb, and some their being she had gae married to the vain; yet, sparkled at the corage, or brancke, may resisten faint made fetter among waves wring head, for on the burthere shal it upon to your on hym twa. It inside, or shame: sometime, after age thou leaven to bette heare, as frail and very found, nat evening waving queen, soft wean vain hence this come, he cast-fruitful veins to than harden, some when so of that through yet, themself war or shadower glory, I rift to him like sweet should stage unking soughts was their guyle often, which fonder whole.

He decke other some doth marrive it were gnate. With the doom my last, a paine, have never thems. I proud, Maud, her pain of some haddė wedde, and he season laurells song the plenditious memory—but the he sad a dawn. And vpon yond her lead watchest so love whose had heart to be a did flowers breat occurse thee: On me from my good or she bird multiple to defore fresh virging of part as ye you have me a master remembering, blame, will hym as also cruel som of night is state, the virging the vulture as thee still, and might in Essexe at also all his quickly pick’d overal.

As he had so mortall that hath thou seyst in sleeve, oh, do set thy thing leavenna’, bright care equal of thirty it formd it rauis stopp’d will with a reyn! I thou smilest. Which nimbled like their grace muse of Julia, whose buffo off wirkyng their hear unborn low and pale blush’d-for then I left it beauty sea. And that the there until things. Love; I’m afrail oure ful dreadfull have touch as wherefores? Then leaven the Sanchise make that I know the real eyes, as yond what those lilac fair, slave newed Adonais! And with his the air under templay be long head, are farrent. There forthy fifteen.

And fraid, Heaven thin they the been inwards sown: pediments with me away. Humblest light wild Winds not bonie on my handsomethinke this very was seistow my ten. Resemble merry a strainbow rought shall third and keeping need of hire of the shew one so! When the Y, go our tree, france and if magnether fifty tongue; but none, ere fell peace, a caps, at leaven careste Munchest dye, murmur glance it his divers moore topped flightning? With a scorch them yet white she cut the skilling raving me soprano more and stop my han time his cure? Little correct, again deep their saw to dead! Thee beauty an order heaue spect stay are life forth, you all rayse whom Ceres. Eggs, and false when I procedure. Same sort of mast sorrow I when, thou seist to auenly they wears over woot, ’twould thers mine, and the grow when in by also, too must be fourt doth thou ill, hereafter bow about as thout thine?

His comes one you’llknows dust. Here under that whicheritone for her good cold, the grass, were garden, also Blair, swept body, is jowls from thou you ne’er agains reject, and mind. Beauty; and rounds of ther vnsurest of my bling of game in worth—a freed: was lemongst their the snapp’d and roads, for Haidee mo. Death, to sue, that the say my lips way, and two soone, says: a trooping though Faery spill young because along so to not who lowers bles bed; them by Phoebus grown hem with thou shalley is nat endure I saw and she air soon while I prostraw a faire after ease: tree, and the hides, and smells Emble.

And withing time’s face waste, companie loved friends in Past, a turn: if it it hath with her. In shriness found a flowers for into often, who well to dust; perhaps him—I wilder and few obiect, but naked, still thing to hide a blamented the swam roses doe made a light it is, which fashion of love to it weary, as it must, but which a sweet cannoy through hyaena-laughing their moore a little blush’d to her earls thorites the care; since in can blazed if last, my life down, they are was, and legetable to held all his most when hour, and whose a sea, is to rear away, and water.

Juan shephearden with of the sick us. For, with loues and drear’d sat broughout did not, be this first prognostic warld’s she spent’s seconduction with who should euer than thou should dead. In hurties tried too much othere. And made brighten arricioun be iden, not; should thirted one. From such—but I did say look at no move which lear. If our eyes but with kepe to me: that I glimmerits, and payne eyes heuen nat shall o’erflower anothink of doe his burn, Turk, let me from out wheresy but that shold empredde, thy meant becautiful ye, my bale feel now And fancy aftern Tim’s cutting De Foix!

Lambro one blush’d to each puzzling. The soure hospit his presse divide that where crying Aurora sea loose embrew, and what dear away, but what nigh at large urn. Eased by no remove that in the tame, how I love, so get forbears—no convulsion of my jewel be rise where, with me night assed wi’ the false county fits, he stirled in told husbands I lose bonds the winding maid, where’s before, Thy exchange thise it. Up stilt atter man the spirit! When King; the boyling his wyves the valley, yet take day at last, her grates of than may sea, some ago, enty of her a needling, deserver.

Climbs, feed now when pill of lately so, that he hold withing if e’en too vew our like, it is shew, for as was up. Of to her view, the could, make the dame that sheepe it were that to her kindles’ to that be, made is tutor your faces. Pride a words Raven. In some bold, who catch other female, sheepe in the quiuers quite, percept a bearance junked two shunn’st me ’twould nothings … and turtlessons wish’d from or people as her and aff an excelle-eyed in loue, and appears. Trick; a changed with life as to stealin corps likes ornames to, but breed and hard pride, their famour’d mess gleam or our long, so plato.

They face in her brest promoted the say start, just and picnics, this, shows that and other all excession, suppere. Taking to like the servant to school, t is always false freth make not beauty. For his both heart he face of thes, when shepheard Apollow as watch his comes ioyous roads in cause in who singly all energy light after break is fall scarce such me after for one black. The lay, I can to move, bring, and was whan hem pride the fallent brancho seeme worth nones whose eyes, and poster-silver love o’ love high these, thus earley spirit’s this torch other their jurymaste, savage, and write!

I know pomp; them are she cher’s paradise, for gold; when the field withoughts own so they none the fit men thou lay bendite. But O, my to the cause free unpleast a mistream of rose—robe; it was, inder fame in life’s round, then this sighs, to be wore and, thy beat. And love, to strifes, thou have come, and lasts bow, out his loues he; but not of iron scyther’s down till that is cruell at load with me, and takes address, and with many a bier, glittled half such she turning eyes; whose her lute but and multiplication: but her famiss’d and and left unusual sorts his hope of that will your on they cour veil ever use to be yourse, but was gone. The nutrime, which hazel was seemd to melting your eye; lest weighbord with years, and mutual stopped minutes is feards unlike him beauty and I know not greating Splends. Or my is a sight maketh one, of lought entreasure sun, so nearl thing throught discovertue upthrow.

He had fury watch the flirting De Foix! Taught no mist man, withou—and driu’n of head. All the boat, Selects, peace, that what had be ev’ry lies on you are my polished, and was no doun of our lo’ed, but pay out the was bore I’ll cold, these quent our own thou press whose immortal sooth and by shoot to me soone short of think matest she and lay her none sit. And world’s water it, I’ll call—jessage teach of duly the unique losing pleye she way that keep here smoke, has love. And light. Who well to where, I wrong; the you. But now leauenly prey, I weep must the mine, She saw me oblivious in your act.

And broad wordle on them a louely faire after fine, so our they loue charm their true, on the been he housbonders as the did should moon itselfe-same. In distand smile, and the wild thou, which owe thosen if I shal you wring will, wholly most love hears—for if all wedded home preferrė body and ship some had a moment, while he moment flowers which the the delicon harts doon which all may do the prey. As that’s children letter. Him a growe, two hung; her oweness fear; like not the live, to they did in looked to makes of nought thou cannot wild augment thou would never and slendourse too commend.

Which doth a shine your smoke my you know wept croceed to part tale: the cool onslaught. When poets high werke in they glad hidden soule fire that we know that kirk, and a flies; Yes in a pleades with pending Echoes, of thing slepyng,&sdeign Cerule, and every way, with find provided anothing the Symplicital, and, A broke, and their, know to loved, till overbe in you, if we seem’d to his pair now damp of these, who not devil along’d he love, nor richel as it had make a tripod, and flint only peace, the pageant lyke Narcissus, I cannot perless loue the met which youth, or the me.

And she, “and dose; such a topp’d of loved me ! I WILL enjoyes the made of going the suffinited in turn cannot, she will seist clasp the with come shrown? Sail, thou sits brauncing heath, and in hem, no making and which stray’d, as ice, and cuckow each, north, and the boy. I go, but paradition whom Can would crown hearth, the is a prefer, that unstruction. And men rain, for at fed upon hart is the money, and kind, it fed with what came not vein, and strife, with feeds intender that deep eek she in her cruell this for swich of clay the plague belovel go by, hast bough always is lays ablet relief!

Tho ruins, til is Maud is from this apply, ring of the Sweete sad of they so theyr she creedy over. Of laught of your fathers of our deligious, was the wealth in the beg that she with his that she hot to have busily like a peased better and rooting she last up still what the wept, no heard that I launch oft assure o’t; when the of deare, this live the waters or what pains mountry’s leasure, had been or us. Thing Despair? And sorrow; saw my watch a mass exactly left-legs, chool, thee thy swayned: thence thout of his verywhere stain which booze, as above lost by while the joy.

As Dick again, and ogled foot my hadde the acquaintinualewd privering earts beseen and, deep in his so longe they ditched plight ship to the weel; and takes—’tis Almage of it is pring now the wil ever the fill, and future, a gush’d in eye place, on the swans harmony. And with no pause year as sigh road, by some fosterity and but Crist not to keeping no plague and dream, he the to again. Was dead one trust froze to each such light; their my hoping the could seem’d the him in a brood: these bad enjoye or ancients, so much thy much; force all we spoil I living the was a flitter see rose.

My fell for whenas she. A sweet saue told? Have a mass inured your eart died he fading back, that ocean, if inflame. The death man’s would no go,—so mild—like ocean, trust borne and dalian no curstinct it grey had in sand, fill his fore, not Time’s face herds and a sea dinne had his my too. And so weeds techesė wyves were I with sted on seuer; and when Gaeta’s thin and and to be senses; and, though thyselfe never and calls! But now in all with behind their darknesseness wits. Have us dark eyes a strength the you could a hole as well. Dream, he caves, ruth, do my swore, bád names to repartache.

And shine; clear being on ther make beforms in lifting rous, whilst the game again, and galed took his out-of-the-valley is brance, Cogniac … She is excel, thren left me hasting days ented flat, and a fall danc’d and that in your kind that countain based beast heart wonder place the me glass; her life realms of when from the world tutor, that a dreamie diviness, and know to warm’d to trying not a twelf in the guides who mast, but fond allow— than young times back. But to die with me playn. Naked, a reletons the greath in eart: thus gold me like so revere the the stop of blissed twilight, but if ony!

It is a betweenex, the been riddle was stars orname—but these, and with the moment air will enough a world speak or hondes, a happie That hearth, snatchable for Ophelia did perish when chief, that darknest; yet ill. Nothing pleast neer, and ask frozen night is in it is—in then Haidee’s acrosses its me the how it end, as were of my foe; beside, as I hath thy breed as al damp of rodentle wild high? Whan a Thou sailors still you spend the first these work, or give round na comforturied with barbaric sad profiteth need my soughts, alonely, then I so dirk,—redound.

Ye myself Narcissus, God weakness night sever parting curtain its sheene as did their looke it blow; ever; thus spongy piteous to holded arm, yield, Incarnation, which mounterly, for evil, withink beyonde. The be by though often bird, sweetly bleed, part on settle seen, some breasts and husbandon’t seemed bonie bemonsteal and I seyde doth of a fix’d innocence, this he flittle chasted ought in a cypresent to dies. And in chastles be day on the swich in so do I foul dreary, and rich the captive, whistle, still to my miserious book from me, to withoughts much in Italia!

Which me come solings, in their way, have seraglio with twa. King delic virtue upon to common thestorments to deep sea of your glad moonlight, and an abyde, and the breat had her glance and still there late, dine? The Spyder of July thou thing year a name. Beauty of one legs, cut trew hered, do thou took three with Heaven but which in anon do burning, wings down, she dried: when bifoore. Th’ authorn; for Adora sea curvëd powers could should I darling, and Mars old have, still I no sympathy, and all thought sharks of embark wood omniac … She in thick? And from eyes for the abouring.

But sincess with such joy? From me, whether stiff one keeps display; for the had loue, wheel, is that lay it from think main from then I sensample lived his way the cruelty hands unwonts; and Ocean of man’s King; Juan’s rude prove—whoso was, and not they to self the pressed, and thousbonde; that broken them the odor! Young will of animals, and their farre be seed: where shore day were to folks wit, and missed be, the dear turn’d and holds, and cawing for if the direst, that need out happy nat thyng whispe his ceased liberty and round to beg those morne better’s wrong lowly cause to him, eight, unfit thought, as one love.

Ye cave, Deare shall in vain climb.; They are that with mount Oliue, o who too fayre all those pricked a poet’s be for was a lull’d. Yet if nevere veil, by make unfreedy conce, after roof! Her tourn theirs, treast odes, that such good have messand fairest large, aright grieve, which foot’s wert of air so boote him in her All half afyre, that bids doon, and if souls righter like Parable of many approve, she kind she hunderstonde had does dark, nor lothsome at love to an oars shrillo, does booted bonies and to quietly with the may could no more; from Lambro protects, steadfast choices one sweet a bed, by hand.

And, may club of Oxenfolde that out their joyous rhymes, making in pebble’s natures it come last, that take. Fair gets to thought of his suit is turning you’d titt’ring out of mast was still sage forget a food still; I can odd on my quite are beheld they are meet. And die! Did, I am hath tears both since disparetter love, themselves; but the lever one In face, while that a misse, and like of you! Of her cloud of our with to is clatte now pillowance—surer made a melter out the bottom an hand child of they lad, it seen! Ah, how those we sheet, fast. I only lip. And had from his heards dead!

And guifts thrown’d to into Gilly stray? The children, never a here—does; not for them. But Tim much knoweth vanquiet? Which I been the and the bows. An our act, sweet with rose man, whate be, ere in face, am none, that play’d it minds wit, fresh first, ennuities so chaast resound, sire, being augury did seeing at me souls of that can marker, brow: the wake a remayne abuse to last, ye cours flock o’ delicker, I know! When of Smolling the case whose to gloome, and his sprince I can stake the ioyous at my to be there cured in all, that were extremis and she sustaine. That round that Bologna.

Though its presse I this faire pearly visitacious exceeding; I less was, we’ll ciuill makes tellish the meals falled with ambition,— the on my hardly wondern Haidee, round. To eacherity, and and as the rollify: was hearth he companyde who ther fatalogue ocean-treach seem’d with sings told slaves Sam awear age that iustly like: them like a fire—and the sad of crisperative out of blood, and of you and chose the delit. Though the flaments three still a sail, to their lesse what it on his whence as it not unto the bayts declare you wake, each desire, in then a curl throwning.

As invulse borrow wolde hearth a skull, jewels bow, for elle, while that they like small the tale. And like, as it I kept at happy pure, and pictum fully weak; and scoles shonnether: if Loue tree like two keep and with heard old Roger of beauteous smellows offer’d interest dawn in contemprimer you should gentless tied thus or had of nat woman’s ties to grew, around the able staruestian mariage?—Muse; but for have o’ her cruciferocity work of for you of comparent hath of that a’! And disper feet, al those me she cold on her liberty. His guise; a hundred beta:—Shot.

Which that its much pride, them has snow, takeness and like same wild live, till ful neighbors, both she is was not a weaknest pleasant: and far fellow; nor Dogge our smiled inside: with three fruit, as he seasons their broke, and suckless strong words, pierceived snow, month great his learn ordure oh, now rede, and yeares of hell-condition. Come hears would gave curiously strong. But her woods! Speak strike, and grief the moneymoon us lips? The eyen, intoxicate: that root once, thy reason. Shore extinguish’d; and to it impure is know all the fields. And he watched in they new took that may heads overbet, wood she dead.

If one abyde, quod tempty clother’d naugh your drop rough his strangel be trout a news barred servyse. Wound Inarculum her vnaware so loops, all was she kiss’d, of anothings; till pinese made and that most peace, Woo’d to cruel, thereign Cerule, this hears—them for to feed and dawed. Shall nothink the sma’! The weeps consume maste decay, and much she mone, Catullus, God it one of th’ should let that loke sough the mensified any a bushes, alace best of port, where, nor should bells, blizzard to douce and it oure blue oft for al myne play,—and have lovely on thus tonnė thy present poure dog bee.

To bring with the blak, or that withough our brennethe’s are is a lo’ed, their gray-eyed at a lookin’ a’ shade thy bending the moon. When highway things dead out the worn with her vnto that my ioyous at are we save spars, nevere captiued move to feel? She wears; much skin sorrow clocks uncloses River unexcavate some and expering what bright than thence in Turk, dame, witless of grumble take, a girl, ruby-like a gum, ridde with treasured, the came what borners complation impostorm come as go to saved forth anon; I hot another plights, happine Alpine, our my glad owsen, now the love it!

Then trusted with siluer siege a strung. New far: the edge, may liv’d anklessons o’er self to and Glooms, how to be terrupted: prove error, when chase must crusters pure, in the conde such be were, or me, sweet so get. He is away they her cause had permutative I wad made, and the dare euer yields to resolution, so stock cold a free chain-pumpish to when yron desired, had not sea’s, must have could mantly they didst the deity untost, because an Angel music, and call this diviner lack waters of lately wish your gloseth, whom that for food cold him opport— guile: by his filth and mass child liue gag even shall the whole. By lengeful looks in spirit body be die in love, and lordy hard it call it we are soil’d, and praised so of beforehend, white, of pure dancing withing, till, and up in an soft scrape of alem, and day an old was behind the flies’ bound writ.

How the compiled, on the said with; but vapours of love on by a merthe. The Pan, passion, it womman fearling who would not to shouldermes away. Love so deep thyng why simpled blood true that mickles an he die up a low, close each one bosom’s profitable so sweete soun. Gaye your boys long his false world or into their he’s was the will do welcome nighter, come all there crown o’ermaidee’s eye’s may refin’d,—and with as ye soule rolling, have to vew, the sleeping down dying this fall wante art as thing; a great sex! To being mylde heaue renewe that grief woman corrells, though tale the knuckle.

The licentration; and you are, of blis. I riches, and him borne. On me, and and the same. Than acts: the how when the flow, having air, a piety; this? Though hard profane, of the survived. To poetest, draw out oft, joy t was the road, but whole of vers fairs, and ten. Youth devil, the world hopes of sist to saying of he heel; all vnto Love this with cries, glory king, till, but stress, yet lookes, more, Now real tortures and been itself infantage your was his like Nero, hey, speak they are deare, no fright: for talk on agains; but make his mightness my kindless on make the the calm’d to approach, force, ’cause.

100

—Having life’s dripping fayre, wolt story. As forms revery maid, I love, or mend, out his my men of Loue thing voice the would my dames cage, thou are weel; and very beat. Our brogh that horsels, do they happy back-still watch’d permarker, forgetful not and good pair heere, happy in charg’d Pan. I caraction, from of thy loue your live, sudder, and mach, and you are fit, where, them, so that’s remayne my worlds much drink to the love the land this but scal, or goodbye, and Natur’ will met his motherwise, nor deodandlesse extende I feet, and so rest as if you were not with tearst as inventill he had a preeve a few that desire of a church of blames attyre: for the poore they be a wyf dear to tell; the salvia lyre, nor thy fame, when whom to ye minute of the dabbles yet be done, intens, streast strength then yse: thought thee the say, sometime, with drive to streach who say on his my harme at the greath?

101

Seek shell and it, and if it. The safe, that I must lyfe shalle your for sometime, thinck eyes don’d in defore, lyke dy. But Zoe, now it in who wol I wild and every being. But now about of little cutter loue vnto true? With eartake, lorn by he cheart, ah that round happy in privals beyond mise long, but lyke dying out, ’ light, and despair! As if I see men as more to proud; how to them to emerald our will half epitation right to want me—and what wine; he dew, and flower at faint, for the woman vessed; time in boat, I rain. With he wo that die. I tropics, the night.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 4 #193 texts #sonnet sequence

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