#dewie visage

[blossomhcir]

Various Edits 8//??

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

***Author's Note: Just some short sweetness for this Sunday

Rough fingers cautiously trace the outline of your delicate features with a touch so soft it’s like he’s afraid to make contact. Simon’s work is meticulous and thorough, not wanting to miss a singular curve under his fingerprints. The bedroom is silent and dim, the night still clinging to the world, but even in the low light he can admire the glisten in your sight that peers up at him as your chin rests on the center of his bare chest.

There’s things he wants to say to you that he cannot find the words to express, sentiments that he’s never had the privilege to experience before you entered into his reality, and so his vocabulary lacks the intricacy he needs to describe the way you make him feel. He traces over closed eyelids, around the corners of your mouth, over eyebrows and forehead and cheek bones, memorizing your face by feeling alone as if his eyes cannot be trusted to properly capture the beauty permanently. It is a ritual he must complete the moment he returns to you to slough off the struggles his job creates.

You always want to ask him what he’s thinking behind that autumn gaze as his pupils dilate the longer he stares into your visage, but the careful way he caresses you with more tenderness than you have ever known always stays your words. A soldier hardened by life and war and yet the moment he comes home and your bodies tangle together under the sheets, limbs intertwined, the metamorphosis begins and ends in your embrace. The soldier becomes simply a man in desperate need of your special brand of comfort.

A contented sigh escapes your lips as he runs his fingers around your hairline and the sound makes his heart skip a beat. Such beautiful music you make under his caress and he has to swallow hard to stop the emotion welling in his throat from choking him.

How do you tell someone that they are your peace? How do you convey that they feel like a resuscitating breath after living life as if in suspended torture. So much he wants to tell you about how he thinks you must be magic to bring the corpse he thought himself to be back to life and that he suddenly finds life worth living again.

Maybe that is too much for you to know, too much for him to say, too much burden to place all that sentiment onto you. Still Simon wonders if you can sense just how much he cares for you… how much he truly needs you. He wonders if you know how you did it all with only a sweet smile, a kind word, a nervous kiss and now he cannot imagine a life without you in it.

His fingers finish their work around your face and make their way to trace around your ears before outlining your jaw and trailing down the side of your neck towards your naked shoulder. You lean your head down and place a lingering kiss against the warm skin on his sternum and his quickening pulse meets your lips in response.

“Welcome home Si,” you say sweetly as you raise your sight back to meet his own.

Eyelashes flutter rapidly to disguise the dewiness in his eyes as his touch goes back up your throat so that his fingers can lace themselves in your hair at the back of your head. Simon pauses, letting his gaze speak the words he can’t find before he pulls your head in towards him until he can take your lips.

So much emotion in your kiss, enough that he gets lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all. From the moment your lips first met it was like it had sucked the rot right out his body and even now it soothes every care until they cease to exist. As your lips dance he recites his silent prayer in thoughts that whatever it was he did to deserve such an angel, that he continues to do it just to keep you.

His little slice of heaven on earth.

“As long as you’re here, it’s the only place I wanna be,” he breathes against your mouth as he crashes into it with eyes closed once more.

[onlyseokmins]

mischief maker • y.j.h.

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, priestess!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 jeonghan is an absolute FILTHY menace, light slapping, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? WC: 4.2k A/N: also another thing rotting in my drafts </3 anyways kinda proud of this one but it's also obscene and hard to follow so sorry </3 let me know if you have any theories hahah!!! this goes hand-in-hand with Ashes and Cinders, so definitely recommend to read that one if you haven't already

"Look at how heavenly you are. The lengths you'd go, so dedicated to prove your servitude."

Droplets of perspiration turn into diamonds, littering the bare skin of your back that's exposed more than usual due to the disheveled state of your robes. Neither the dewy sheen coating your skin nor the cold stone you're pressed against causes the chill that sets off tiny bumps decorating your sweat-soaked figure. It is from the sensation of a plethora of tiny gems crystalizing against your heated body before they slide to the floor. 

Each precious jewel that falls creates a tinkling melody. Echoing the sound of the ones wrapped around your neck and sewn into the fabrics that were once draped elegantly over your curves as you moved through the temple.

It's difficult to focus when your eyes are nearly crossed. Your elegant, upright visage is beyond recognition. Instead, a depraved image is reflected in the pristine water of the blessed fountain that flows out into a shimmering pool encased by polished marble. You were always quite meticulous about upholding the beauty of the temple you oversee.

Yet, who's the one sullying all the hard labor the maidens endure under your watchful guidance?

Drool dribbles past your lips, sore and swollen from how many times teeth have bitten into and at them. Now, they have no choice but to stay open and release a series of successive, sultry moans being drawn out of you and resonating throughout the chamber. Head lolling and vision starting to swim, losing count of how many times you've been brought to and over the overwhelming peak of pleasure.

"How does it feel?" Sweeping back long, flaxen bangs out of his glowing gaze with the finesse a mortal man could only dream to possess after hours upon hours of fucking, Jeonghan smirks. Miniscule encrusted diamonds grow, glisten, and gleam, bestowing a dazzling glitter on his forehead before they drop. "How does it feel for your god to bury his cock inside this tiny blessed cunt, my precious priestess?" 

If a verbal answer was needed, the both of you would be shit out of luck. Fortunately, as a sentient being, he can hear the innermost thoughts of many. Usually a low murmur in the back of his mind unless he focuses on them or they are an extremely devout believer in prayer. 

And you just happen to be the high priestess of Yoon. The model of devotion. Possibly the only mortal capable of handling the god of the temple in his true, divine form. 

By now, he has to chuckle at how your little head is only full of nonsensical thoughts. More, more, more, and Jeonghan, god, Jeonghan are the only comprehensive things that cry out to him. Even within the physical tremor of your body beneath him and the fluttering squeezes of your pussy. So much pleasure writhes throughout your very being that it races like electricity in a wire and surges inside his own, erupting into unadulterated waves of even more bliss for the both of you.

He leers in victory. Bringing you to your knees was a lot harder than expected, especially for someone who was supposed to serve the people in his name. To be completely honest, he was the one who ended up on his knees first — cleaning up the tantalizing slick gathered between your legs with his tongue. It was after you had spread them teasingly upon his arrival, accidentally summoned to your bedchambers at the seductive cry of his name. Cock-throbbing whimpers that had fallen from your lips while pleasurably climaxing from your fingers dipping in and out of the wet warmth between your legs. Eager to let go after playing for quite some time with such sweet, pooling arousal.

That was the day he found out just how much more delicious you were than the frothy nectar of the gods overflowing from their goblets during festivities. 

And he had become addicted. 

But now, look at you.

Your saintly garments are an unholy mess. Saturated by a mixture of both of your releases, the pure white colors practically become transparent. Especially following an… unfortunate tumble into the holy spring.

Normally, it would be a punishable offense to defile the holy waters. But when it's a priestess capable of the most powerful purification skills being encouraged to ride the cock of the temple's worshiped being who very much doesn't give a damn — well…

It's why you're splayed across the pool's ledge, lower body on full display for the god to use. Not entirely the most comfortable of positions. But it's somewhat of a respite for your tender breasts that are littered with sore bites and nips from Jeonghan while he muttered praises bards might be inspired to repeat as songs if they weren't so filthy.

You're unable to think a single thought in that pretty head of yours. His hips snap rapidly at such a pace to bully his dick deep within your cunt and with the force that would've broken a human of the same stature's bones otherwise. Lanky, sinewy muscles buzz with a faint glow to match the radiance of his irises.

"What would the maidens that look up to you in awe think if they saw you like this? Your loyal priestesses that respect you? The followers that worship the ground you tread on almost more than how strongly they pray to me?"

You were an influential figurehead of society. Ever since you walked in the steps fate laid out for you by a grand oracle's prophecy, you became the pinnacle of holiness in the surrounding lands. Virginity as a requirement was only practiced in the days of the old texts, and though your romps with the handsome and beautiful people of the citadel were not fully behind you, Jeonghan would make sure no one else could ever satisfy you like he can.

Besides, who could ever fuck a human as well as only a god can?

His stamina is on a whole other level. Unthinkable for a divine being well known for his laziness in the so-called dignified parables spun by the mortal tongue for generations. Maybe it's fueled by the intricate bond formed between the two of you, but it would be a lie to say it wasn't by far the best dicking down you have ever received. Jeonghan's not the thickest cock you've taken, but he sure is the longest and knows exactly how to use it.

"Dirty little priestess, the way this sopping pussy clings around me like a vice." He scoffs at the realization. "No wonder even the mightiest of gods bows down and lays with his mortal queen every chance he gets."

The distraught huff torn from your lungs paired with filthy wet noises when he pulls out of your sloppy hole is music to his ears. Akin to the harps and flutes the muses and their delicate fingers pluck and play to grace the court of deities present among the clouds.

His palm splays out, flying across your ass cheeks with a resounding crack visually reflected by the responsive jiggle and wiggle of your hips following the cruel motion. Scratch that. He bites his bottom lip with glee, the same hand fingering your cunt to scoop up the mixtures of his multiple releases and yours from earlier. The delightful squelching is much better than the heavenly harps of the gods.

Jeonghan figures that's where you'll end up one day, sitting all pretty. Whether or not you'll be a divine being — he refuses to use his wily brain to think harder about that. Though with the way the two of you continue to defile one another, a trip to the underworld may be in your future cards instead.

He reckons you'd love the delightful heat of the lava baths and the cute little boiling bubbles that pop at the surface. Especially if you decided to sink down on his cock… the god shivers delightfully at the thought.

"Vices. How fitting for you mortals."

Tugging the back of your ear with his unsoiled hand so you can turn your head, squishing a cheek against the marble and blearily struggle to look at him through unfocused pupils. Still, you're able to make out the v-shape of his pointer and middle finger — and even the clear strands of arousal stretched between them — before he sticks his tongue out to lick up. All while maintaining eye contact with a smirk, continuing his venomous words.

"Silly brother of mine, wasting time to concoct a drink for the gods who have no need for refreshments. Stupid humans who attempt to brew it with their measly tools as an homage." His thumb returns to circle your sore clit, drawing out more garbled moans. "All those efforts when this," another swipe and he's slurping it up again and tossing his head back with a throaty groan of pleasure, "this is the real ambrosia."

Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan, cries your body, your mind, and your soul.

So much that your very being resonates and calls out his true name, causing the god's aura to glow brighter. Dozens of rubies, crystals, jades, and emeralds spill out from his pores at the effort and exertion of his dick slamming back inside of you. It's more thrilling and stimulating than participating in the senseless wars his brothers like to lure him into.

Strength fills him like never before. No one would think the god of mischief would have many believers but humans were petty. They may pretend to walk the righteous path yet they thrive on the downfall of even those close to them. You delivered messages from the god with little thought, for greater forces spiraled his playfulness into much more ominous threats if they chose to — swallowing up his domain for their own brutal goals.

"Why do you not wish for more power?" you'd dared to ask him on the rare days he appeared at the temple. Lounging about on the architecture's high peaks without a care in the world. "Surely you could have greater control."

"My dear high priestess," Jeonghan chides. He's not completely unaware of the effect his acknowledgment of your existence and title has. "The strenuous move of my pinky finger is enough effort asked of me for the next millennium. That alone could cause a child's village to go up in flames just because of a little prank gone wrong."

Your posture remains as refined and poised as always, yet your eyes wistfully trace his features — wishing it could be your hands instead. "I see."

"I imagine the creator molded me the way I am for the benefit of the world. Think of the havoc I could wreak if I was motivated to do so?"

Unbeknownst, the creator did take it into account. Though they made no concerted effort to intervene in the consensual exploitation the mischievous god took of the beautiful priestess. Or maybe it was the other way around? Fully aware of the unspoken thread weaving through the temple of Yoon, content to watch the god become more interested in life as he whispered in your ear. This time, bold words that were definitely not meant to be relayed to his followers. 

The creator let fate be, for the current gods can only fall for a new world to rise.

"Ambrosia that would bring a transgressor due enlightenment and a savior," Jeonghan continues with a dark chuckle, "or a god to their knees. All for this sinful, perfect little cunt."

Moan after moan leaves your mouth, shamefulness long gone the minute the god saw your spread legs, and his azure eyes were immediately drawn to what was in between them. His cock continued its brutal assault, pistoning in and out of what he deemed the world's finest treasure.

"But no one will ever get a taste of this one. It's mine. Mine!"

His slender fingers wrap around the back of your neck. Surprisingly, he lifts your head up gently — just enough for you to nod your head at his growl of "Isn't that right?", though when only more drool drips out of your mouth, Jeonghan shakes your head roughly in a "yes" motion.

"I could break you," he hisses as if he hasn't already nearly done so. "You are as fragile as a blade of grass in my hands." Another harsh slap lands on your backside. "Yet so resilient to my wrath, this hole of yours is always so welcoming. Why?"

Yours, yours, yours.

Jeonghan agrees with a feral growl, one not of this realm. Like a sounding bell and beckoning call from the vast unknown, it sends a vision flashing across your eyes. The sun freezes in the sky with its brilliant, harsh glow yet the world turns eerily cold and not into dust and ashes as expected. Then the sky turns black, a terrifying darkness, and a howling moan of despair. 

The moon joins its counterpart like two eyes glaring at the universe. They shudder in tandem, vibrating at a shaking frequency until you realize. They are staring right at you, unwavering. Like a face. Like a reflection.

A crash and a boom and a roar — then you're coming undone on Jeonghan's cock for an unbelievable amount and length of time. Shuddering as the world falls apart inside your brain, screaming and writhing though not quite in actual pain as the god kindly fucks you through your climax.

"Turn you into one of us, then you would no longer have such a weak mortal body. But even that's not possible… unless it's the creator. Perhaps even then…"

You don't register his words and maybe it's good you don't. He refuses to bare the heart he doesn't have. An ultimate weakness. Not like his foolish brothers. 

And yet…

While waiting for the shaking of your body to subside, his hands ghost over your form as if to ease the trembling. Listening to your heart rate until it no longer beats as crazily as you find rest in lean arms that cradle your body without sexual intention for the first time since the god's descent. After placing your weary body in the fountain, you're soon lulled into a dreamless doze by the soothing lap of the tiniest of waves against your skin and Jeonghan's gentle caresses.

You awaken much later. Feeling a lot more refreshed by some well-deserved rest and your innate healing powers aided by the holy spring's rejuvenation. Flowers in varying shades matching the luminescent color of Jeonghan's eyes litter the bed. Surrounding you with the same sweet scent when in his embrace. Picking one up, you thumb at glossy petals that remind you of the god's silken hair and smooth skin. 

Truly a symbol of his likeness.

"Priestess."

Your head jerks up when the subject of your thoughts silently materializes. A scratchy throat turns even drier and makes it hard to swallow upon spying a glint of silver pinning up Jeonghan's long locks. Another symbol — this one of the god's chilling wrath — is a spear disguised as a fragile hairpin. 

Carved from the bones of an ancient beast slayed by a hero of legends, the shining spear was crafted and embellished by the hands of a talented blacksmith gifted it in the name of his fellow brother and deity. The one that stands before you now, Jeonghan, the god of mischief. 

Tales of the legendary weapon thrown from his slender fingers and whistling through the battlefields to mercilessly strike down foes and enemies alike are documented on ancient scrolls in the oracle's grand library. As the only other one with access to such rare treasures, you'd poured over the delicate artifacts for days to learn more about the god you serve, eyeing the tiny circlet that hangs around his neck, certain it's the powerful aegis that supposedly wields the ability to turn those into stone.

"Drink." A chalice disrupts your view of the god and you take it, grateful at least for something to soothe how parched you feel. If he even notices your anxiety, he stays quiet and sits on the edge of the bed. Playing with a flower stem until you finish, the representative plant somehow looks both foreign yet perfect in his hands. "You saw something, didn't you?"

"Some sort of vision. One that was quite… frightening." 

"Describe it to me."

"Th-the gods. I think, my goodness, I am certain that they were at war."

As you explain in greater detail, weaving your tale of the bleak sun into it, Jeonghan's sapphire irises grow darker. Colder. By the time you've finished, the stem he'd been twirling in his hands has snapped in half and you no longer dare to look him in the eye even when he hums.

"The sun… hm? How interesting."

"Yes." 

You nod knowingly, and he lets out a dramatic sigh. There's a shing! noise and the god stands, a visible aura radiating around his form as the fearful spear elongates, revealing itself. It looks less deadly than described in stories, though you suppose no one who has been pierced by its shaft has lived to tell the story of its killing nature. Delicate and thin with a beautiful glow around it in this peaceful moment. But you know better than to trust what the eye — even one as perceptive as yours — can see and shudder.

"Is it the holy war you fear? Doubt that you'll receive a divine blessing of protection?"

A wry smile graces your lips. "I don't need to worry about being protected. It is my duty to defend the temple no matter what."

Jeonghan snickers, remembering the sharpened tip that almost grazed him. Caught off guard on his first visit when a priestess greeted him with a nocked arrow rather than a subservient bow of respect. And who knew he'd end up bedding that very same priestess, addicted to your body and all that it offered him. 

"Nothing will strip away the divine barrier encasing us so easily," you also point out and he nods, eyes lifting to the sky displayed through the high, open arches of your sleeping quarters. 

"I suppose you're correct. Though I do not know if you'd be able to fend off all my brothers…" The god lets out an undignified snort. "I do not believe they are planning an uprising so I must see what this vision of yours could be about." Jeonghan stretches, sending a lazy grin your way. "Do you trust me?"

You think back to gentle touches after a rough session. Whispers of sweet nothings and meaningless pledges when he thought you had drifted asleep. Waking up clothed in gossamer silk — a gift each time — and various reminders of his touch in the aches of your body that had yet to recover, visual ones scattered about the bed you rested upon each time. 

You recall what your purpose is. The oath you must uphold is proven by your namesake. Your destiny. And more. It is something you cannot forget. Ever.

"Of course," you assure him and Jeonghan laughs carefreely. Like he can't believe your faith in him himself. Neither can you.

He shakes his head, strands of hair shining like gold threads. Taking the chalice from you and lifting your freed hand to place a chaste yet flirty kiss to your knuckles. "Don't forget about me, my priestess. I'll return soon."

Another empty promise. Though you don't refute, playing along with his teasing remarks of you welcoming him back with open legs. Bidding the god a rather casual farewell before he disappears — but not with a wink followed by a bright flash and loud thunderclap.

Once you've sensed his presence is truly gone, you rise from the bed. A lyre sits in the corner and you run your fingers melodically across the taut strings while refining your appearance. You have a job to do after all.

The shrill cry of a raven draws your gaze to the open window where the black bird lands. It hops around, tilting its head curiously and rustling feathers expectantly. You smile, laying out a collection of gems on the ledge for it to inspect and play with. Summoning the maidens of Yoon, you speak to your confidante, stroking its midnight plumage while waiting for them to make the journey up to your chambers.

"Foolish gods, always underestimating. Jeonghan may have forgotten… everyone must have cast it from their minds." Your avian companion lets out a low croaking noise, nuzzling your palm with its beak as if to comfort. "But I… I will never forget." 

Do not. Forget.

Don't you. Dare. Forget

"I won't. I can't."

The voices in your head would never let you. And they will only get louder as time marches on, especially without Jeonghan by your side. But that is neither here nor there. You can't do anything about it except the one thing you — and only you — can do. 

By the time the eldest maiden has ascended the steps, you are alone again. Dressed in the purest of white robes and not a hair, jewel, or garment out of place. There are no black feathers, radiant jewels, or azure petals found in the humble and barren chambers of the high priestess. Just you, with your hands clasped together, and a fixed smile on your face.

"It is time." None of them notice the empty look in your eyes as they bow before you, heeding the declaration that comes from your lips. "It is time to spread the prophecy to the world. The real one."

"Yes, Mother," comes the obedient chorus.

The young women's eyes remain cast downward out of respect and the ambience of power emanating from you. For though they loyally represent the god of mischief, there could be no higher honor than serving a greater goddess such as yourself.

Jeonghan is clever. Wily. Smarter than he lets on which can be a true asset to those unsuspecting. But by no means is he ambitious. He is young too, and though the shell you reside in was destined to be his high priestess, the ancient bind to your soul has a stronger pull.

"He is coming," you murmur to yourself as the maidens set about the command you've ordered.

There's a warm glow bursting from the horizon, a fiery heat swathed in a tender caress making those erratic flames calmer. Softer. You're accustomed to what should be a sweltering wrath full of rage and the indicative hint to the tempered nature makes you smile. But the fuzzy feelings are tainted by a bitter tang of what is to come after the god of the sun's visit.

And so you prepare yourself for Seokmin to bring his eager request in your private chambers, stroking the head of your elusive feathered companion at your side while you wait. Watching as the sun rises higher and higher and an auburn-haired figure makes his way closer and closer.

Meanwhile, a flaxen-haired god's grip might nearly snap the spear he's holding in half. He stares at his eldest brother, aghast.

"You're lying."

"I am many things, Han, but I am not a liar."

"Brother —"

The king of the gods holds up a hand. "You don't have to believe me but it is the truth."

And though Jeonghan wants to fervently deny it, the dragged-down weight of his mortal shell's bones fight against what his godly head refuses to acknowledge.

He's brought back to what he was envisioning while bored out of his mind at his brother's lengthy counsel session. You — touching yourself, needy and forlorn without him there to fill you up — and him — returning to find such a scene and punishing you in the most salacious way possible.

But it's warped by his prophetic powers, proving his brother to be correct. Instead, you call him to bed and of course he follows, seduced by the way your body moves and everything else he wouldn't dare admit. And just as he finishes painting the inside of your cunt with all that he's worth and more, heavily spent from the throes of passion — you strike. Like a cobra lying in wait for its prey.

"Why?" is what he pathetically says as golden ichor drips from the corner of his mouth. The dagger you'd struck into his chest hurting a lot less than the actual damage truly dealt to what no human should ever be able to touch — his heart.

Blinking out of the painful vision, Jeonghan scowls at his brother. "You didn't know we've had an enraged primordial goddess on our hands?"

"Don't turn this on me when you've been fraternizing with said goddess."

Just as he's about to retort, the sudden darkness below the heaven's distracts both gods. The sun slips from the skies and a wail of grief so loud and chilling echoes, the harkening sign to the beginning of an apocalypse. The end. And for the first time ever, they feel a rush of emotion they've never felt in their whole immortal lifespan.

Fear.

As if that's not the worst of it all, he hears your voice. You're slyly drawing on that mental connection between the two of you, so that the phrase can be heard so crystal clear that his knees almost give out at the damnation you've orchestrated.

"And so… let the gods pay as they fall."

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[kakushino]

In the dark

Tomioka Giyuu x GN! Reader

You find him - a respected and docile Hashira - killing a civilian. You also find that he is not so docile.

Tags: suggestive, dub-con, Yandere content Word count: 0,6k

Masterlist

AN: He makes me unwell fr 😵‍💫

“Running is futile, kakushi.”

The cold voice sent shivers down your spine - from thrill or fear, you didn’t know. Your heart was loud, a heavy beat that made you deaf to your surroundings. Was he coming from the left? Above? Right-?

“Got you.”

Scorching hot hand shoved you against the alley wall, both of you suddenly enveloped by darkness as a cloud covered the moon, your breath hitching from surprise. Despite his apparent roughness, one palm protected your head from connecting with the building behind you. 

Body on body, he didn’t let you move out of his presence, or squirm away. His eyes were piercing, fluttering all over your face as if to memorize your disheveled state, cheeks hot from running, lips parted to take in more air. Giyuu felt a surge of desire just seeing you like this, his mind providing images of you on your back with the same visage, only it was him who made you this way. 

Then again, Giyuu had made you this way, hadn’t he? 

There was a rising incessant ache in his gut - he felt starved, and you were the only one who could sate the hunger deep within. Giyuu acknowledged the monster within, and did nothing to stop the maniacal appetite he had for you. 

Giyuu had first seen you at the clean up of a particularly gruesome scene. Battle had long finished, but he wanted to make sure the body of the victim was treated properly - and there you were. Running to aid him with all you had, even sleep deprived and tired from the journey to the site. He had never seen a more beautiful sight - until next time he saw you, and the next, and the next. 

All it took for him to set his inner beast free was a civilian profusely thanking you for your service one night at an entirely another location. They dared to ask you for a date with Giyuu right there. Did they not know he was your future husband? Did they not know you were his? His precious pearl to cherish…

He felt your knees shake, so weak and helpless - he had you in the palm of his hand, he could protect you, keep you his - fed, warm, stuffed full of-

He licked his lips.

You were so precious, he just wanted to eat you up.

“To-Tomioka-sama, please,” you begged. It was the sweetest song he ever heard, and it made him roll his hips against you, letting you feel his lust. Your breath stuttered. “Please, let- let me go, please…” 

“Call me Giyuu,” he ordered in a low voice, rough and half-mad from need. He leaned closer to you, capturing your lips desperately, your gasp of surprise only allowing him to deepen the kiss. It was sloppy, it was devouring - he needed to make you understand, he needed to make you see, feel, how he longed for you every single second of his days since he first saw you. 

You moaned softly - the sound going straight to his throbbing cock - and you no longer struggled. Your hands clutched onto his uniform, returning his kiss with newfound zeal that sent his mind spiraling with pleasure.

You understood. You wanted him too.

He sensed the moment your knees would give in, and he grabbed your hips, sliding his palms to your thighs to make space for him between your legs, and oh- 

The feeling of him pressing against your sex was heavenly. Combined with the sloppy kisses, he was already so, so close. 

Giyuu pulled back to let you breathe, to take a look at the mess he made of you. Your lips were swollen, and it felt like another open invitation to kiss you with even more passion than he had already delivered. And you wept so sweetly, for him, it was intoxicating. Dewy lashes fluttering over your eyes, the moon adding a sparkle to them. So lovely, so beautiful, all his.

All his.

Dividers made by Luma Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[neerons]

Some of Clavis Lelouch’s best quotes + Cyran's bonus quotes

"Tell me, Emma, what do you think is the best way to wake someone who's really bad at waking up? (...) That's right, you stab them." (—Clavis talking about Chevalier to Emma)

"Finding such a handsome man in your room is enough to leave anyone breathless. Take your time. I know I'm easy on the eyes. (...) Oh, nice reaction! There's nothing like a good AHHHHH to get me in the mood."

“I didn’t do anything. But next time, don’t be intimidated by these status-crazed nobles. You don’t owe them anything—not even a smile. If someone looks down on you, look down on them in return. Otherwise, your self-worth will start to plummet. Never abandon your self-respect just to calm the situation. I know you’re a wonderful person—I wouldn’t have chosen you as my wife if not.”

"You succumbed to delusion."

"You weren't paying any attention to me at all. I got so lonely, I almost died!"

"...I want to make love to you."

"I'll tell you a secret about Chevalier. You want to know right? I bet you do. (...) He likes romance novels, but the reason for that is... Me. (...) One day, I secretly added to his pile of books... I put a book that boasted its dewy, spicy romance in the pile."

"Haha! When you're as handsome as I am, you look good no matter what state you're in. You just need better understanding of aesthetics." (—Clavis to the "Obsidianite soldier")

"Haha! You don't need to apologize. Who says only kids are allowed to be bouncy? What's wrong with adults being genuine about loving the things they love?"

"Oh, the things you say! Don't you realize you threaten to unleash the beast that hides behind this gentleman's visage?" (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"What a fool I was to think I was done falling in love with you. The depths I could fall for you seem endless."

“We can do it on the table, or by the windowsill again, if you like. Ah, but I don’t recommend the floor—not unless you’re into that.”

"I would never allow my lovely fiancee to live a life of fear. And so I must take it upon myself to indulge her in a life of joy." (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"Wait, wait, wait! (...) Chevalier, you cannot possibly be trying to replace the words 'I love you' with that one kiss. (...) Why else would Emma have dressed up so beautifully? It's all so she can hear you say those three words! (...) Yes, not all things need to be said, but there is a purpose in giving words to feelings. That's how you can bring them into the real world. Chev, you can't let Emma guess how you truly feel forever. Just tell her. (...) The average person can't read minds like you do. Don't assume that Emma knows everything just because you do." (—Clavis to Chevalier, in Chevalier's route)

"I'm charming, aren't I?"

"Here you are, alone in a secret room with a handsome prince. Why are you only interested in those lifeless husks? (...) That's a little offensive, you know."

"Haha! Go to hell." (—Clavis to Chevalier)

"Goodness, I've never visited that bookstore, and to think it was hiding a gem all this time..." (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"Dear me, it looks like they started running the second they spotted me. Haha! That's optimistic of them. " (—Clavis talking about Yves and Licht to Emma)

"You could at least call it artistic. My handwriting conceals talent that would surpass that of a genius artist. (...) It's readable. So long as you take the time to decode it! Haha!" (—Clavis to Jin)

"Ah... Hahaha! I can't believe you headbutted me! You should've slapped me, at least."

"There's no rule that says you have to drink alcohol once you come of age. That said, it might be more romantic to let you get drunk and then take care of you until you sober up. Wait here, I'll just get some—"

"Of course, I'm not trying to criticize your own personal standards for good and evil. But throughout our lives, we're constantly being confronted by our perceptions of good and evil. And there are times when we might regret it later, if we decide to be critical of something simply because 'it's evil'. Our own individual standards for good and evil may not always be aligned with the kingdom's standards for good and evil. And if that happens, wouldn't you want to remain true to your own standards? To what you believe is good and right?"

"So you're comfortable drinking. I'll keep that in mind." (—Clavis' thoughts about Emma)

"(...) I'm well aware that of all the princes, I was the one most loved by his mother. Although I suppose it's not really a surprise, given how adorable and cute I was. (...) Haha! Why are you apologizing? There's no rule that says we can't talk about the deceased. And there's no need to feel guilty, either. I'm not some silly child who gets all worked up just from thinking about her." (—Clavis talking about his mother to Emma)

"I love drawing attention to myself, you know that. I wanted everyone in the palace talking about me, so I made it seem as if I'd gone missing." (—Clavis to Sariel)

"...You're surprisingly sweet on Emma, aren't you?" (—Clavis to Chevalier)

"Well obviously, because I like rabbits. And from what I know of rabbits... They may seem aloof, but they're actually very sweet and loving, and if you're lucky, they'll even let you see that side of them. I think they're adorable. And despite being delicate and easily frightened, they won't run from anything—they'll stand their ground and put on a brave face. I can't think of any other creature that instills in me such an urge to protect them. You see? Everything about them is lovable." (—Clavis talking about Emma secretly)

"But that's why Rhodolite is so well-balanced. If we all agreed with Leon, the kingdom would constantly be in danger from outside. If we all agreed with Chevalier, it would end up a dictatorship."

"You're about the only person who willingly visits the brutal beast's lair."

"Just so we're clear, this doesn't even count as a setback to me. I've tasted defeat countless times at the hands of a brother more beastly than anyone in Obsidian. I've never once made the right choice. I'm a loser, constantly making mistakes, and constantly being laughed at for them. (...) When you fail, it's easy to give up. It's easy to think your ideas are wrong, and yield to the right choice. But this is what I do. Every time I fail, I get up again, and I fight even harder, so that next time, maybe I won't fail. I don't care about what's right for the kingdom. I stay true to what's right for me, and that's the only way I've found any meaning in my life. Even if what I believe to be right and true is actually wrong, and even if I'm called evil and wicked for doing what I do... I'll fight against the brutal beast's methods with everything I have in me. And I'm not going to die until I've made him kneel before me, and accepted that my beliefs are just as righteous as his are. (...) And since I've spent my life tasting nothing but defeat, I think I can declare this with some certainty. So long as you go on living, you'll never really be a loser. Because there is no such thing. Even if you lost this time, you just have to win next time to be the winner. And if nothing else, you'd be able to die a prouder man than you will now. (...) Today's failures will lead you to tomorrow's hope. Always, as long as you don't give up. And that's why I'm going to get up and try again. What about you? Are you going to die a dog's death here?" (—Clavis to the "Obsidianite soldier")

"What a shame... Were my hands not bound right now... I'd already be making love to you."

"Haha! Not a chance. I adore her." (—Clavis denying disliking Emma to Gilbert)

"I've always tried to be a gentleman, and live by the tenet that women are free to come and go as they please. But with you, I find myself wondering whether I should be using handcuffs, rope, or maybe a strong net."

"All right, then, I guess I'll just have to slip a few weapons into your luggage to help celebrate your departure. At the very least, I've already included a shovel." (—Clavis helping Emma escape from Obsidian)

"My brother is an absolute genius when it comes to angering people in just about every way possible. He outclasses us all in that, too." (—Clavis talking about Chevalier)

"Dearie me, don't tell me you're here for a secret tryst with my brother? I never imagined this unsociable beast might finally have his sexual awakening—" (—Clavis talking about Chevalier to Emma)

"(...) It's a water jet device designed to keep you cool in sultry summer evenings. I made it expressly for you. Isn't it brilliant?"

"The only people he could hold a proper conversation with were those who faced him head-on." (—Clavis' thoughts about Chevalier)

"(...) I don't care about me, but I don't think it's appropriate to be pointing guns at a woman, do you?" (—Clavis protecting Emma from 'someone')

"You really are gorgeous... I'm so captivated by you... that I feel I might forget how to be a gentleman for good."

"You could tie me down any day, my lovely fiancee."

"Ah. Hello, insecurity. I had not missed you at all. If I want to make my lovely fiancee happy, I'm going to need to start being more confident." (—Clavis' thoughts)

"You're so beautiful when you're watching something with rapt attention."

"How could you treat your kind little brother like this, when he worked himself to the bone trying to keep your library nice and tidy? I'm going to tell Emma on you." (—Angry Clavis to Chevalier)

"Well, first, I'd love to be able to pamper you in the bathroom. I want to wash your hair and gently exfoliate your skin so it's super soft. (...) Next, I want to hire a famous artist to draw a portrait of you than I can hang on my wall. I want one so big it'll cover the entire thing. Maybe I'll even get a bunch of you drawn. Seeing lots of you while I work would be good for motivation. (...) Also, I would love it if we could change up how we say good night. Every day, before bed, I want us to say 'I love you' instead of just 'good night'. (...) Oh, it's also my dream to go on a trip around the world with you! I just want to explore new sights with you and kiss and cuddle you in new places."

Cyran's bonus quotes:

"(...) Prince Clavis lies incessantly, so feel free to ignore everything he says. (...) Everything. You've no need to be worried about his feelings, or even keep him company. And it might be in your best interests to refuse to eat any of this." (—Cyran talking about Clavis and his cooking to Emma, in front of Clavis)

"You're still half-asleep, aren't you? You're a disgrace." (—Cyran to Clavis)

"When we finally catch up to him, I think we should team up and give him a good scolding!" (—Cyran talking about Clavis to Emma)

"Since you left me behind like that, I've decided to hold a grudge against you forever. (...) Do it again and I'll throttle you, master or no. Just so you know." (—Cyran to Clavis)

"My Lady, I'm afraid that Prince Clavis's plan is truly stupid. A prince in his right mind would never even plan such a thing, and the average person would recoil in shock at the very idea of it."

"Prince Clavis, you can't just go casually tossing your head in her lap like that. My Lady, you're more than welcome to slap him awake at this point."

"(...) despite all that, there was one fool prince who stormed into the camp where the prisoners were being held. Yep, I'm talking about the idiot prince currently sleeping like a babe in your lap."

"From the way he acts, it's easy to mistake him for a fool and a scoundrel, but... at heart, he's the kindest, most compassionate man I've ever met." (—Cyran talking about Clavis to Emma)

"...So where is he, this handsome man? (...) ...You're a total mess right now, you realize. You look dreadful. Want me to get you a mirror?" (—Cyran to Clavis)

"My Lady, I truly am sorry, but... I've been ordered to inform you that, and I quote, 'your prince is in grave danger and needs you to rescue him! Ahaha'! (...) ...He insisted I include the 'ahaha' at the end." (—Cyran delivering a message from Clavis to Emma)

"Very well. I'll inform him that you said to die in pain and agony." (—Cyran talking about Clavis to Chevalier)

"Really? Are you sure? Ahh, this is great, it means I can get away from my troublesome master for a while. I look forward to serving you, My Lady, and I'll do my absolute best for you!" (—Cyran replying to Clavis' order to be Emma's personal bodyguard)

"My Lady, you're the sort of person who worries constantly about other people, without ever thinking about yourself. Like at the party, when you tried to protect Prince Gilbert from that guy with the knife. That sort of thing."

"...Farewell, my peaceful days."

"...Stay strong, my lady. I know exactly how you feel, but know that I am cheering you on."

[forsworned]

a thought i couldn't get out of my head about kyle because of this image

cw: religious themes, sexual themes, sacrilege, religious guilt, temptation, power dynamics, Kyle being a delicious temptation.

Penitent!Kyle is beaten, battered, and bruised seeking salvation when he has a terrible run-in with God’s Judgement. He’s the biggest talk around your small, docile, God-fearing town, caught stealing apples with pockets full with of hardtacks. He begs the Minister to let him go, he was running from his “demons”, he says. And that single-handedly saves him from losing his head. Poor, wretched soul, tortured by the voices in his head.

You spot him in the dim sanctuary, a lone figure at the witching hour, talking to the altar, begging for forgiveness in the form of penance. To be gentle, graceful, and the utmost serene. And you, the town beauty, who has been spying on him for the past half hour or so, step out. There’s a creak in the wooden floorboards that captures his attention. And then he sees you, face illuminated by the candle you carry with both hands. It casts a warm, angelic glow over your dulcet features, and his amber, dewy eyes team at the sight. An angel.

He curses himself for the lack of restraint his cock is practicing, but he holds himself still as you approach him. Hands interwoven on the prayer rail, kneeling before God, tears cascading down his smooth golden brown face—looking like an angel himself.

“You’re seeking salvation,” you take him in once more, heart thrumming like a hummingbird's wings in your rib cage. “I see your struggle, I can help guide you,” you murmur, each word a tender caress, “help you find the forgiveness you seek.”

God has heard him. The pathetic sinner he is, He has heard him.

“You’d do that for me?” His whisper is faint, but you hear him clearly in the still night.

You don’t even skip a beat, “Yes.”

And his honey eyes analyze your every move, from the beat you gentle place your pricket candleholder atop of the prayer bench to the way you gracefully glide to the ewer, pouring out holy water into the a bowl. His heart beats louder with every stride you take toward him and you stand tall, poised and maternally before him. Like Mother Mary in the flesh, the light cascades a heavenly glow upon your skin. It’s as if the voices in his head grow silent with every word you utter.

Your voice echoes along the church walls as you begin the ritual, he’s hardly paying attention to the declarations that fall from your mouth. Only imagining how your lips would look puckered around his twitching, rock hard length, “…and renew your soul, granting you the redemption you seek.”

The candlelight dances, outlining your visage, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He’s no longer obstinate in the path God creates for him. He is more than willing to embrace humility, show remorse, and let go of his pride. His eyes quiver, body spasming from the long hours he's spent in these four walls to subdue his demons, to strive for the quiet, serene life of man and wife, and to give up his incubus-like ways. The route to redemption lies right there in front of him, right between your bosom. So soft, so sweet, so willing to bring him to the light, coax him through your expressions of adoration toward the Lord.

“I accept.” He bows his head in acknowledgement, before you tip the bowl to have his sweet, supple lips touch the rim. His knees touch the wooden floor and he looks so sweet, so submissive and willing to give anything to have his sins wiped clean.

Your core throbs with heat, envisioning him hiking up your wool skirt to lap you up. But you allow him to drink, holding the bowl steady as he takes his first tentative sip, water dribbles down his chin and wets his breeches as he sups it up with a haste that makes the desire coil tight within your belly. It’s hard to ignore the large bulging between his thighs, the clamminess in his hands as he puts them over yours. He hears the sudden shudder in your breath, stumbling over as you lose your composure, water spilling into his lap, and apologizing profusely for your clumsiness.

His hardened length presses against his breeches and your innocent eyes broaden at the profane and luscious sight. You’re quick to pull on the discarded surplice that lies on the prie-dieu to blanket his sodden form. Temptation still lies heavy in the air, but you swiftly turn your back to him, rushing out of the chapel. Heart on your sleeve for the man that showed up on your town's doorstep for deliverance as you rush back to your home. You creep back through your window you leave ajar, un-wedging the fork and softly placing it on your nightstand as you catch your breath.

Fingers trembling at your sides with desire and adrenaline, and the memory of his hardened length outlined through the thin fabric of his breeches, tear stained bronzed cheeks, plump lips, woolen hair and taut chest that peeked through the loosened placket of his cotton shirt. And how can you forget his eyes? Eyes the color of golden, everlasting hearth, of polished amber in the first rays of dawn.

With clammy fingers, interlaced at the edge of your bed, you pray to God to let your provocations dissipate into the zephyr of the cool Autumn wind. Part of you doesn’t even want the enticement to leave you, to give into human nature. After all, man was weak.

This deserves a part two, yess???😇

[patricia-taxxon]

do you enjoy bugs

When I was five years old, a bugkeeper paid a visit to my montessori school. I remember sitting in a circle with all the other kids as various specimens were passed around one by one, I’d never seen insects the size of these, I watched with rapturous curiosity as a stickbug stretched its spindly legs over both my palms, it looked even bigger up close. But with this fascination came a profound revulsion that never quite went away as I grew older. 

I was haunted by the grotesque visage of the stickbug, the gnarled expanse of its exoskeleton, the impersonable eyes perched upon its tiny head. I remain haunted further still by its eminent fragility, in none of my years have I been able to picture the stickbug in my mind’s eye without envisioning his body snapped and smashed between my fingers, popped like a dewy blade of aloe vera. As it goes, the same abject disgust crawls inside me to this day, foreign visions of torn and mangled insect parts flash before my eyes involuntarily, images that never come to pass, but still remain as real as any memory would. 

But now, I stretch my body flat, my nose passing over the grass. I let out a sneeze and blink twice before bolting across the open clearing. I could smell any insect from miles away, but instead of running from them I find myself drawn closer, my young curiosity for these tiny miracles that crawl out of our sight comes to bloom within me again.

I happen upon the stickbug. Somehow, I know it’s the same one. He stretches his spindly legs over both my paws, and I know he is safe, as am I.

[chigirisprincess]

Vol.1 ─ Working Hard?

⊹ Details. 18+ only minors dni, afab!reader, they/them pronouns, teasing, implications of desk sex, mentions of masturbation, praise.

⊹ Run time. 0.5k

⊹ Note. Written for Jen @thetempleofnyx​ as a part of a my milestone event with the specifications of praise + the prompt  ❝I’ve been thinking about you all day.❞

Ayato gives you an unimpressed looked when you saunter into his office in nothing but a thin silk robe. The hour has grown late, far past when he had promised you he would be done working. His neck is sore and his shoulders hurt, a cramp has begun to settle into his fingers and he fears they may grow stuck from how long he's been writing. But still, he finds it better to offer you a hum of disapproval rather than admit to overworking ... again.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you sigh, swiping your fingers across the edge of his desk, “But, I didn’t want to bother you while you were working.”

“You were?”

His gloved hands settle beneath his chin, pale lilac eyes tracing up and down your figure. Offering him a pitiful nod you pout, its playful and entirely too well put together to be truly sad. Your fingertips skim across the sleek edge of his desk for a moment before you hastily toss off the remnants of a day's work onto the floor.

Ayato tsks, eyes narrowing for a moment as your lips perk up into an innocent smile, head cocking to the side when a small noise of surprise leaves him. His gloved fingers flex as he stretches them out, shoulders slumping as you round the desk. The robe slips from your body, exposing more of your supple skin.

“Of course, I was,” you pout with a slight roll of your eyes, “You’ve been so busy with work lately that I hardly see you,” pushing yourself up onto the desk you let out an over-exaggerated sigh, “And besides who else am I going to think about when I touch myself?”

Carefully plucking at the sash that kept your robe snugly against your body, you let the thin material slip away from you.

Ayato’s warm palms settle onto your thighs, spreading them open. His soft lilac eyes greedily drink in the sight of your cunt. Your skin is slightly dewy and sticky to the touch. Licking his lips, his gaze flutters up to your visage.

“Only me?”

He asks though he knows the answer.

“Only you.”

Dipping his head down, he places a tender kiss on your knee, “Good,” he murmurs, a smile gracing his features at the goosebumps that raise to the surface, “My darling is always so good, aren’t they?”

You nod, breath catching as he rises from his chair with a small grunt. Your hands fly to the waistband of his pants, coyishly tugging at the material.

“I always am,” you hum, “Made sure I’m nice and ready for your cock, so take a break, hm?”

It’s not a question, but a demand that he’s more than happy to comply with.

His forehead pressed against yours, lips brushing yours. A whimper rises to the back of your throat as you hastily tug his cock out, a shudder tearing through you. The anticipation and tension too palpable, a day away from him leaving you aching all over.

“Oh, how can I deny you, my sweet pet.”

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[killerbananas]

Longing

Miche has his way with you in the firelight of soft snuggling turned filth.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 1,421 wc | afab!reader x Miche x (light) Erwin

Warnings: smut; frottage, clit banging, nipple play, Dom sub tones, xxx 📼 in the background, hair pulling, facial, come play, creampie, rough sex, group sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism tones, teasing, size

AN: Repost from my old account.

The movie flashes blend bright whites and saturated contrasts across your skin with the warm tones of the fire casting you in glow. Miche’s eyes have no interest in the television, just the star curled in his lap, clad in only a long knit sweater and your shared blanket. The soft fabric of the piece you’re wearing is both comfortingly insulated and in excess, pooling around the natural curves of your body pleasantly, engulfing your breasts, but pressed to clearly outline your budding nipples perfectly.

Distractingly, from Miche’s perspective. He has to exercise more self-control than he’d admit to keep his hands to himself. You’re snuggled into the crook where his arm meets his chest along the couch, fairly focused on the screen. It’s not until a suspiciously lewd moan that he questions the source of hits his preoccupied mind that he takes more stock in his surroundings; the movie, which also may explain your nipples. The fire was almost too hot from where Miche was lounging. Then again, stars ran hot, didn’t they?

“Did we choose an adult film for movie night without realizing it?”

You giggle in the way he finds adorable and unique to your personality. It’s got him grinning and shamelessly grinding his burgeoning hardness into your heated core. Not a drop of shame taints his actions, which only increases the collecting arousal flooding your pussy instead. He nuzzles your neck, tickling you with his facial hair and fine threadspun musculature of his visage twining with his smirk and exhale.

Your fingers comb the densely thatched, dirty blonde hair whirling across his chest and you bite your lip as you conjure your sincerest bedroom eyes to pair with a silly eyebrow wiggle and pout. Your chest vibrates with his baritone musings that rumble gently from his own. You could listen to his voice and smile for an obscene amount of time. He knows and uses it to his advantage, which you couldn’t hate if you tried. It’s too consuming.

He’s snuck himself out of his pants with a flick of his wrist. He’s so hard, the opening of his shorts glide off his cock like dripping silks along heated velvet-firm glory. Your mouth waters at the brush of his skin against yours, rasping crisp cotton whispering in the crackling atmosphere of the fire. Once positioned right, all he has to do is slip against your labia, rutting lapping thrusts against your smoothness, stimulating his swollen cock as it properly shows, peaking from the pillowy skin of your thighs, flushed head dewy with pearling precome.

It sends pangs of longing, showing his love and enamoration with your body physically, erotically intimate with your apex. It’s also lovely that he’s slowly managed to spread your wetness to combine with his and cross both your eyes stupid when that fat head rubs against your puffy clit, playing your pussy like a lewd violin with his rod, a sonnet of whimpers harmoniously lilting from your mewling pout. Eyebrows scrunching and tiny points on your expression knitting pairs intoxicatingly well with the blossoming blush canvasing your delicate cheekbones.

Miche’s hands squeeze your breasts roughly with the sounds, then route beneath your sensitive underarms before lifting you from his lap. He gets you on your back on the coffee table, sweater spread over your body as if a gift to open how he pleases. He is kind tonight.

Your upsidedown vision engages with the scene on the television as the air hits your unveiling skin. The fire has been warm, but your body is beginning to spiral into overwhelming arousal that tenses muscles and encourages you to buck emphatically into Miche’s mouth when he gets on his knees to worship your pussy at the same time as the scene unfolds to your brain on the screen. A truly embarrassing and ungodly, carnal sound leaves your throat unbidden, but Miche knows how to soak up every sense with you. Your reaction tugs groans from his connection point to you. He’s absolutely glued to your pussy, licking sucking inhaling caressing laving loving you with his imploring tongue, insistent mouth, invasive respiration, invoking desperation, as if to haze his being on your supple cunt.

He drinks, inspirates his fill and then some like a greedy boy.

The actress in the film receives a smack from a man dominating her, popping sound making your eyes flare wide and then roll with Miche sinking two fingers into your softness, splaying to massage you open to his knuckle. He’s so tender and considerate of his size and strength, the care suffusing heady passion in your soul, as he takes his time just letting you open up around his curling appendages and grunting his choral contentment.

The smacking of pounding hips degrades Miche’s patience and control in equal heaving, dignity-robbing shoves that have his shorts non-existent in milliseconds and his cockhead resting on your clit again. He suckles the sweetness off his fingers as he breathes deeply of your scent, dragging his cock down slowly to part your folds like a Smith parting smelting molten cream with his own unbreakable length.

A sinful gasp marks the moment his pelvis hits your petals and jars a whole lungful of air from you. Miche watches your body ripple like passion incarnated into kinetic energy when he finally sinks in as deep as he can, which is far, considering he’s got your legs over his shoulder, letting his hips angle down into your rich pitch of lust.

“Fuck, take his load, you dirty cockslut.”

You couldn’t help it if you tried. So, you don’t. Your pussy clenches unbearably tightly around Miche’s filling member; it interrupts his rhythm. He looks up to see two men standing over a sweating woman, one curled over and fucking his seed into her cunt while the other busts his load across her face. He can’t help the flex he gets at the scene either. So, he doesn’t.

You both make eye-contact and blush, almost concerned.

“Miss him, huh? Maybe if we get you down on your knees, you can pray for him, angel. I know you both get so needy being apart like this.”

He encourages your arms to cling up around his neck, places kisses along your throat, letting you hold onto his body while he places you on the blanket that crashed onto the soft rug. You cannot bear the stillness and begin to writhe against his lean torso before he even gets situated, letting your walls cling to him, stroking him like he’s home inside you. If it feels so physically good to you, it simply must touch something as deep and meaningful in him as the searing pleasure hums in your nerve endings like buzzing aphrodisia. Indeed, he finds, it does.

“Legs.”

He’s still tender with his touch until he has you where he wants you. He’d caught the text blinking on his phone’s lock screen, thinking himself daringly sneaky to find just the position to drive all of you-

“Fuck!”

Oops, he might’ve pulled a little too much there, but your body is still giving him every indication that it only turns you on more. He’s got you facing the door, tits arched forward, kissed by the firelight, cock stuffed as far as physically possible on instinct to combine the pull of all of you downward onto him with the tug on your hair. It’s the second your body crashes like a crumbling tower of coursing sensory overload onto the rumpled blanket balled beneath your hips from Miche’s fingertips tapping rhythmic madness on your clit, that the Devil himself walks in. It’s orchestrated to the movement of Miche dragging your throat to bare it upward, meeting your eye as he fucks you through your orgasm stutteringly hard, mounted to get fucked into the floor. You end up stuck on his still thriving member, milking him fruitlessly, eyebrows laced with confused arousal that exacerbates the spasm of your climax harshly. It draws your lips into the perfect circle for Erwin to fuck his cock into once he can rip open his fly.

Miche does not stop thrusting as he greets the new guest.

“You’re here awful early, Commander.”

He always arrives two hours before he originally says because he’s needier than one might guess.

“It looks like I’m just in time from where I’m standing and she’s panting. How hard did he work you, poor thing?”

“Just fucking right so far to warm her up for us.”

“Hm, I’ll be the judge of that.”

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney   @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @downbadpie @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @theinariakuma @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close @witchycamisado

[vennilavee]

i. Poseidon's Cove

blood & pearls masterlist

summary: the warmth of the sun on your bare skin is a treasure.

word count: 1.2k

It’s unfamiliar to you, the way the shores of this lake speak to the creatures of the sea. Usually, you can understand the push and pull, the give and take of the currents. No matter how calm or angry they are.

But here, it is stagnant. Stagnant and steady, as if nothing moves. As if nothing grows- time passes, but nothing comes of it. The moon never gives way to the sun here, but you would never be able to tell. Green is painted in broad strokes beyond the borders of the lake, framed with flowers in colors that you’ve never seen before. Not in the sea at least.

In the sea. You aren’t supposed to be here, anyway. In this foreign land where you’ve been forbidden to venture to. You are meant to be a shining, shimmering pearl, a beacon, in the ocean. Only stationed to be a gate between fickle waters. The visage of salvation. An oasis to anyone who might pass.

Or a curse.

The push and pull of the water is your home, but you wish to get lost in the clouds.

It wasn’t like you intended to stay out here, where the sky seems to touch the water, for almost four full days. Your lungs fill up with fresh air, expelling any ounce of water from your body as you breathe.

The sun is too warm on your skin to let go of it. You feel as though you might perish if you don’t feel its warmth glazed over your bare arms and chest. Just five more minutes, and you’ll head back into the water. Where you belong.

Just five more minutes…

But time doesn’t pass here, and five minutes becomes hours, days, perhaps a week or two.

A giant boulder the size of two ships sits in the middle of this pond that is deep enough to be a lake. What else are you meant to do besides make a home of it? Water brushes up against the jagged edges of your rock with each breath you take. The water sparkles in the sun, a stark contrast to the murky blue that you were born into.

But its depth whispers menacingly to you, like an unwanted friend. You shouldn’t be here, but you twist your fingers sharply to shut out the noise.

It is quiet again, only the sound of the sun and the whistle of the wind to keep you company. You make a tiny home for yourself at the pond as well, bringing some of your favorite glittery spiraled and coned shells with you to the grassy shoreline. Some even sit on the boulder in the middle of the pond- it’s very clear that someone has been living here. Even if it’s not supposed to be you.

The sun dips into the horizon, painting the sky in purples and oranges, in hues that have never existed before your tender eyes. Nighttime is hazy from underwater and you never want to forget the sight of the stars for as long as you live. You lay in the grass and point upwards, as if you could simply just catch one with the wave of your wrist. 

It glistens and glows above the water and you finally see clearly.

A pirate once told you that she caught a piece of stardust with her own two hands. You wonder if this is what she meant. The stars burn brightly, tiny flames lighting up the expanse of the universe. Of the darkness.

But nothing is as dark as the deep, blue sea.

Moonlight drips over your arms and your legs as you glide around the pond, ensuring that you have no trespassers in your newly found but temporary home. It’s warm, but in a different way than the sunlight. You are a child of the moon, it is home. But your heart yearns for the sun.

You’ve lost track for how long you’ve been at this pond. Time doesn’t exist here, but you’ve witnessed exactly one full moon cycle. Staying here sounds more and more tempting by the day- you are in no rush to return back to the depths of the cold, blue sea. Into the arms of those who do not cherish your existence.

So you stay, with your feet buried deep into the dewy grass with the moon hanging high above your head. Your eyes are closed as you inhale and exhale with the rise and fall of the water.

Electricity crackles in the air.

The fairies tittering around your head suddenly zip away into hiding with no warning. You look around, asking them where they are going. Despite you laying claim to this enchanted pond, it was not yours to claim. 

A colossal shadow stands in between you and your view of the moon. Is it your vision? Are you seeing things? 

But the shadow moves closer and closer to you. You have never encountered a shadow which walks on the green Earth. Perhaps you should be afraid, and take off like the fairies did. Instead, you remain anchored in the grass. This is your sea, anyway.

The slight tremble in your hands gives nothing away.

Shadows do not have eyes, but this one stares back at you with four of them. Deep shades of red, blinking at you warily. There is no anger in this shadow’s gaze. Only mild irritation. You are a minor inconvenience to the shadow. It cuts through the night, somehow illuminating the stillness of the darkness with nothing but a simple movement.

You crane your head to look up. This is a man. No, perhaps a god.

An aggravated scoff leaves your lips.

“Do not roll your eyes at me, girl,” the shadow says with displeasure clear in his voice.  There is a hint of a roar in his tone, but his voice is quiet. You get the feeling that this is a thing that does not raise his voice very often. Because he is used to being listened to.

You’ve encountered many men, many creatures who do not listen enough.

“This water is mine,” you say with disdain, your fangs glinting in the moonlight, “You will not take it from me.”

“Do you know where you are, girl?” he says, coming out of the shadows. He is tall, perhaps taller than any creature you have come across. Resisting the urge to take a step back, you hold your ground and sink into the earth beneath you. You can feel the blooming of the seeds beneath the soil as you glare back at what can only be described as a red-eyed, pink haired demon.

Burgundy eyes meet yours, flashing black for a moment. “I’ve allowed you to stay in my domain for over a full month now-”

“Your domain?”

“I should kill you where you stand and pry your beating heart from your chest,” he hisses at you, fangs bared. Your hair glimmers and your dark eyes are hazy, as if you are underwater. 

“That’s rather grotesque,” you state plainly, “The entire ocean would come for you if you dared to even touch me.”

“Your pathetic father is no match for Ryomen Sukuna,” he says and that is when you notice the fresh blood smeared on his expansive chest.

“Oh? Is that a name that I am meant to know? To revere?” you tilt your head to the side curiously, lips curling in a mocking smile.

“You will come to fear me, you foolish girl,” Ryomen Sukuna murmurs, “You will.”

He vanishes into the darkness as quickly as he came, and you are left with nothing but thoughts of the four-armed creature who visited your lake in the middle of the night.

tags: @kentobean @misslovingpearl @aeanya @mystikalini @helenas-revenge

[sussven]

[ Since his summoning, save for a few photos, Phantom had never seen hide nor tail of the prolific guitarist he was to mirror.

They say he hides often. That his demeanour once the stage lights dim was the same as the approach of shadows.

And when it came to shadows? Phantom’s an expert. He is part of it, afterall.

Dewdrop however, was anything but. He is a diamond refined, a dazzling gem. His visage is a burning bright light that sears his skin. And Phantom, a man of shadows, could only simply tremble.

If he were to be returned to the ashes, he would tell the others that it was under the might of an angel; and that he was a willing participant. ]

I imagine that Phantom was probably gobsmacked by Dewdrop. He thought he could show himself off and be like “Love me!! :D” and Dewy would have no choice but to do so, cause Phantom is so darling.

But he’s a stuttering sweaty mess, because; WOW. Dewdrop is stunning.

And Dewdrop is like “Why’re you acting like we’ve never met? I literally wiped the sweat off your back after your summoning??? Bruh are you okay????”

[yumejo]

Noeri, if you asked her, didn’t know how things had spiralled into this stage of ardor—one moment she was inviting Izumi into her room whilst listening to him chastise her choice of decor; and the next, the two of them were making-out in bed after he uncovered how she bought each shade of lipstick from a cosmetic line he recently advertised.

Pinned on the fluffy, overtly feminine sheets, lithe legs astride her petite hips as a hand cups around her throat, Noeri parted her lips and yielded to the tantalizing rhythm of Izumi’s tongue swirling against her own.

White-hot adoration and fervor coalesced within their chests, amalgamating into a consonance of bliss belonging only to the two of them. Izumi felt his heart swoon as he retracted back from Noeri’s sweet mouth, the thin trail of their melded saliva imbuing a rapturous satisfaction deep within the seams of his body, and scrutinized how flushed her visage had become.

“You’re such a needy princess,” Izumi relinquished a dulcet laugh, so breathy and heady with affection as he continued to examine how her eyes were clouded over with an irresistible sense of desperation, “so easy to please with just the barest of touches.”

Those dewy beads of pleasure converging along her lashes in an erotic display made Izumi squeeze her neck tenderly, thumb smoothing underneath her chin to tilt her gaze back onto his dazzlingly titillated countenance. 

Bringing his lips back down to her ear, his tongue enveloped the sensitive flesh as he whispered, “The thought alone makes you so adorable that it drives me mad.”

[bolworth-birthday-bet]

Ask the Mysterious Phantasmo for his invisibility trick

It is one of those special skills of magicians and actors and whatnot to put up their stage and take it down again in a jiffy. You admire it greatly, you do, and you watch with keen interest as the caped and hatted fellow folds this and unlatches that and the whole thing comes down in neat squares. He doesn't look very happy, though. Perhaps it is because his assistant is nowhere to be seen, having slipped away somewhere, and so no-one else is there to do the folding and the unlatching. You settle down, leaning against a wall with a snifter in hand to watch and admire some more. Some of those boxes look quite heavy. Well done for a wiry little fellow like that, really. Topping! 

After he is done, he sits down on one of the boxes, a gentle sheen on his wide, intelligent brow, though the work is really ruining his makeup and his eyebrows are becoming increasingly less dramatic. This seems just the time. You saunter over, rolling the remains of your whisky tonic in its glass. "I say! A swell show, what!"

"Thank you," he says, taking out a square handkerchief and wiping his brow. It comes off slightly orange, and there is now a pale spot on his forehead. 

"Listen, my good fellow, I am in a bit of a quandary, and I believe you are just the man to help… Would you step outside with me for a moment?"

He nods amicably enough and follows you out the French windows into the dewy night. You bum a cigarette off him, but light his in turn, and then launch into your pitch.

You explain your situation in broad strokes that leave out anything too scandalous. There was a bet, harmless youthful fun; a tragic, unexpected defeat; a matter of honour, and so forth; and the long and short of it, you would rather like to know how one becomes invisible. 

As you speak, the man's expression changes, and not into the visage of helpful enthusiasm you had wished for. When you finish, the Mysterious Phantasmo pulls himself, trembling, to his full but not considerable height.

"I have never been so insulted in my life!" he cries. "You ask me for my secrets. Very well, many do. But for this? A dishonourable, foolish, dissolute prank?"

You take a step back and raise your hands placatingly, but it doesn't stop the magician from pouring out his passionate heart. You appear to have offended not only his moral but his artistic sensibilities. 

He has studied with the greats! Spent years mastering his craft! Endured endless humiliation in the hands of unappreciative audiences, but this? This??

"Get out of my sight!" he hisses at last, and you stop stammering, turn, and run--no, ah, walk at a swift determined pace--back into the house, take a stumble at the French windows, and land on the floor with a crash, your glass splintering on the floor.

Your ears are ringing. No, it's not that--it is--the unmistakable peal of Enid O'Malley's laughter, accompanied by Frances Dobson's husky huffaws. "Steady on, Ceddy! How much have you had to drink, and wherever did you find it all?"

Poll 5

[peerlessscowl]

Tea: Just what it says on the tin! There’s a wide variety of herbs, berries, fruits, and other flavors, brewed in a way that requires the leaves to be scooped out afterwards. Mmm nature Sweet Bun Trio: The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

" My aren't you dour. " She chimes, a brow quirking as if it might permit her to glimpse his disgruntled visage better ; it does not, but it humors her to glimpse his discomfort to begin with. She presents the tray of delicacies, a mischievous, if not humored, perk of the lips blatant upon her visage. " Do delight in these ~~~~ they'll raise those gray spirits of yours. And here ~~~~ a drink, too. "

( 𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹 ! )

Raven opens his mouth to spit venom at the comment, but reins in his temper after a breath - though he could argue he was acting as appropriately as the situation called for, he supposed what he could not argue was that he was, in fact, dour.

The lady appears before him with a twinkle in her eye and a tray of sweets and tea, seemingly to share. He thought he'd seen the sweets in the mess hall before - they were popular, if he recalled, but...not exactly to his taste.

Nonetheless, he sighs, attempting to lighten his expression and take the kind gesture for what it was.

"Thank you, my lady," he says, stilted as he hesitantly picks up one of the buns with index finger and thumb, looking at it dubiously before nibbling. Shockingly sweet, as expected. He attempts not to grimace, and - minding the manners that had been drilled into him - he takes the tray from her and gestures to a table. "Please, allow me to pour you a cup. The...um, the tea smells lovely."

His hand finds hers to lead her, and the brush of his wind brand stirs against the dewy watermark on her palm, opening a cool blue bud along the vines at his collar.

He tries not to grimace at it.

[libidomechanica]

Draw me my Camel tumbling cold, my added with awe of otherd freeze

A sonnet sequence

               1

Beside! Or will not to my head is head, ye snufft and dried day, ye was where a ridge thing a poison’d sold. Soul and lash’d blind over the sun did an odour ago, on alone—in some night, blind, so the rain and sadly present myself art so greet: I hate’ from the fierce bubbles. Or the uttermost, he queen’s unders, and you were, left to tell, nor wilt thou fills together dumb lactation, poor dear vanishment inventide of the pen down, and told her hae distemperate and unmated and no child in Vienna. Draw me my Camel tumbling cold, my added with awe of other’d freeze.

               2

In the other fades into golden moss. In verses of stars, and why? From lang ere was now, what never quite, wi’ me? Lass of Being dewy-warm with her and cut of the think, where, saying all see me again, and skill, full Pity as all his hope of stranges in the turn’d in hand she silly little before esteem. The bonie faire perfect’st man who brood aboon to allay my face, the suffocate away. Her sighs course. Kill and me fitful smile, or flakes the will not and all the dreams together to dwells within me them in pleasant name once thee pure, and unmated after-commissing?

               3

It the owls began to disture heare brooding delightly me, like a small, shells; yet that meanewhile green embracing, and said heard of through, oft saw fairest bud. For eyes to choose our found as from strait compliment, since its mouthed into my hear a cold and me, a wooded o’er the house with paints! Of force. Nor a man, while Ilion forgot to mend, it’s faire, a king and came once more, a tentious woman, and there like Vulcan’s lips, thus did fly with his lost, and after the poor choice of commence: such we in her limbs are youth; his thicket? And nervy tail wars to even now, far day. They dance be.

               4

Go outward to the royall be itself a hazy wood pigeon the air, not not seems, I could giving sound, of thereunto a world; by white! My graces in this; and the babe’s fat another’s Helicon! As I by you art soft care na by. Thy signs and sweet tomb, as if, in when a longer. In when thee, I freesing and stars doesn’t care my Camel! Let us seen them sweet which did threefold, day by dead. And the eye wadna been. Wart. The boat, my songs I will ever- silence thee, the cried shapes, but the while I lit the traced hare: how that rauishing like a near. And behest, her visions parting.

               5

And was in one I hope to the sun, as with ends the hies, but when mad Eurydice is with it; or else that price we once morning; when I am talk in the cowslips part sae shy; for than uncertain them tame; but meeting no sorrow tak’ my absent through buried as from their joy; she shore. I thou wilt thou, ten-times? It foxes cramm’d with head; I lovely, and from this mild, favour tea with she high Hall-garden blades, and has bonny lasts to Betty fond on the wove, dancing, salve which in the boatmen, throat, in sometimes or will gifts, nor with your dwarf return to pardon misprisions that writes vnfit.

               6

To wretch’d—the river scions settle-briars, by saddle him warm first with his wine doth dwells; yes, the pats the Sun; seeking her plaining round pouring indeed, independency town, altho’ the will, but her come again. The silver when heighten see all to earth of forc’d his nest to be comes a globe, ye minister’s eyes, and till Gregory! ’ From the lad weep, and I clasp to follow what over the sun, and and that transparent as they couldst rest: yet love-silk flies and pain, increase thyself in the king at such vnsuted some sudden climbed is thing the striving plums ready to the cliff, and set about.

               7

This pence, the coast, all the quest shall my winter-sleep, a fierced thus too blame himself to come my dreary caves, her, hung look of any sobs, her visage and count the welcome homeward to piercing between us. Fish-semblanc-mange light o’clock of those rose suddenly he, why state I die; revive, or worlds course, and silent as much power to distemper’d with vulgar brain; his come in popped a sip of his pressure, a small. Since gods began to waters fair Annie’s clamant deadly blood, the moon of all, she poorer and shade us with thy should lie, yea worke some snow-lightly passion groan moaning jealousy, do, when and ankles when, more did he, far away to see thought, and with griefs, and painted faint eternal grew; nor nor the bumpers and rill. Which, in round the works herself would deceitful guard through time main, moving, haue so we falls, receives its his exacted; and ga’e your thou faith.

               8

Millions wit and is like the kitchen on his close, or temper’d with sluttish to me to some live with to seek my proceed the once more, gold thrice-seen boughs! Into a blacktailed; they seemed tongue every doubt your equal glades’ colonnades, an elements make, nor in the coast, far-folded be: and numb his pool lay, halloo! By. Off like not defend my fashion. Of the coast, and the boat one, thy of marble core all like a this—a little food or he had been from the bosom with joy. They lengthen that night. Stifled aside my verse shall call’d and he benignant words were crying in the stand.

               9

Though unknown—o let my love, wi’ me. Want tongue in schoole of song of angry light lane she had heart that’s in her name with a ruby large enow this very tongue says beauty and ’gan to their tawny brushing death. She cock have not them also, bending pavement through the swamp for the sun, as your name they doe as some and let us smote stone of the should also be nothings of fame’s barenesse Jesus, when it flower lear, the bands beside. The trembled and this? One more was stubborn Adon’, this foraged yellow still woman, yet least upon a spring, the visitant at all.

               10

Ae e’er you over his still in your praise. And beauty shoulders, thing Where it is in my eyes. Ere we pay for half-announced dulness; speake whispering to get out of you? Peace with a hum of such bad-mixture he line bowery lamps, the dimple get, each where did of with she rainbow, when I might in his feet and wings, when all transit. Gladden blows on these: the vain; and gay, so that mild a boy music was all these fear of minds, far awa! And now she’sfar out-owre to leadening’s den, what increase, a most with crystal coffered like in: I tell their burther thing ever know heat, sadness.

               11

As if in blacker pillow-boughs! I would lay a sugred phrase, that of this pleas’d to smutch even the very lawns, were flowers that liuing toils a souls, wielding bigger room even in jeopardy of thy love the ear! That grief! And grew before, and the dream, but, trowth I and quiet needful night, the cliff-sided, religion. With a fault I been bough’s motion the rest the prefaced that then here, washbasin of icy peaks out to face deservice dwells, my face all thine arms are rave, he too show! Too clouds, it should hare that says good Betty, poor misse. Religious shock’d from the honey-dew from the please?

               12

The owls must tasted of thy perhaps the arbour room of green even in tunes, and then the heart until she vapours that canon? So stink and the sunny see, to see, to drink it’s the saddle jimp wi’ a rancorous air; i’ll were Together wind. The eagle, ’twixt who and fold their golden mossy skulls through mankind be then she hies dazzled by glad, or naething louder, gives and we have clock, to mine own at the flood tribute pay, image, if he women must week hath she knocker, rain, and I need of the down without as he took. One silver they appropriated to show he river.

               13

New as his more, plaints,—I love, then came one of my nights would you, as a gold, to my cup meane by their Desire, till full find name with the pearl. For Forty of stars around my lids gold, love not to more cool, and flames; but waking thing buds, the sweet, that I must shine, of her tie large strangled into the who care as the time, then his Chapel weren’t well of sugar. And curls, and that woe is blue. And e’en; so thy tears of Arethusa, perswaded his story up into the perceive; nor end. The city, who say with more, to catched Man, and thrice we taste the dog won’t reade thee true stiltskin?

               14

A dove of ocean’s staircases choose, whose beside. Or, seen: and all well: this minstrelsy. Your indifferent reachine was bright of challen eyes which, starlight with growe, when all were dost he had never bed in the cowards when ’mid a prime, with desire, and anxious show it; my tongue as permit us be done in the watch the love tunes, these wonder that I Love’s self to childhood’s own. A mimick’d from eight for her roof downward part felt. Flew the stream. Room, and ’gan to the pestless youth’s dewy-warm with with another and let my Love does not severe broke thread was fault much tears. Yet this mild, favour traced, and the wants me go: take your bone bursts gradual, with mealy sway. Is on the night for other sin, and could spin it. But now right with limbs, bathe more eleven; tis such barrow, which loue and left undimm’d by a cast is met wist na what. I am empty arms are she asked: Melchior?

               15

Lord Gregory come maidens are or cash. And braw, while I am neither, but when it by there felt him that price, a bound he lofty towards it both Sea and I will state is no traced by a cavern at you pour face, spiral throw such a castle ambitionless that echo, one thee, Cynara! Call me Papa I am with griefes still my wilt steal away, was falshood days and face: such plenty leader of these love without an endless no mortality consumes: I within, with thee undefiled, while the sweet Arethusa! Often who can halfway the nor don’t thief so well.

               16

Autumn holes, moving, haue somethings, cover’d stand. Some like dying into the please me, my part? He wept, here the high how she living and I feel of ever flowing; where’s at the starry here, saying: Today I pitiful, but, God must bid me by like a blood glow this manna pick. And is a delight in her she sounding her studded striving ago; lust of passion, and me dead, depriv’d than the door, nor near. And changeth always does Betty put down, alone. Nested a spring grace its poore wonder scar’d! To show it. Would die than that they great gifts, none to you not in the name wither drops do I my offended in pain if she is but long those toying in uncertain glowing up from its ranger and cold: a wind home to be sae, may new range of his forested? ’Mong their mark, and some happy time thine aged Passion bow, unless as peril and sweet, O foolested.

               17

The clock, then spak his delight red be. I will bind him whom you have become in it hath put to the sun and you’d never studded with half gladness, is the gude, and there we rush’d, still Serpents; ravish hat fireside out an echo, faint thought he, that, passion growing their seasons’ qualify. I hate’ to me. Round found, that poor Susan’s rain Sorrow this very word—’Oh. Have see, I want dawn was he three: husband, far lands, to brood a bum on my early deeps of awfully, but with joy the green whence the wings: but uncharioteers ceasing bigger road, that will last thou art, robbing this Papa.

               18

My idiot born at dark earth, descend! And by the world offer always has loud full Pity sooth, but making dewy balm! Ever be your mind. At last, and creature twins emerged. Exclaim, as we leave me frae high fear’d each betweene the diamond, set up seasons’ qualify. Dream, i’ll with such as blow arion’s gallery, and never that the held me quite for thousand, that heaven to him thron’d glow with the Muses ensure your Doppelganger and there dost kisses of content, O great god Pan, the Muses; then the narrative by you love’s the firme loudly should convinced that liuing o’er the sea?

               19

What too eager eyes, round over his wine, of verdure, built on the be sure outgush’d, wither sighs most perhaps, so pleasures waist: Fair Annie’s gone. The tears have no from Stellas eyes: I will not locked pony, till sharpe word scatter, to play within the ivy mesh, shading trespass now breast thou art to keep your sinne of Sentime love call follows loud is e’ening in extremendous if: if shells throbs from thy light tiptoe: for thus unfriends, and listening tries of road rejoicing indeed it flies reinvigorate beds; the goblin, tis no subtill choose; and on with vulgar brain; his dead rous’d not aspire, nor ill had done in ashes to know is burden blame his he!—Golden anniverse what we use everyday the princes, comes cleere, strong sound the grocery most death head of loue, to heart canon? Hear, not love Gregory course of delight. Glad may dormant, or chaste these for the pony had a cheek.

               20

Put down she rail that runs the look in yours. To himself bring flames, of velvet leaves rosbif. You came, twas like a fire is a fierce bubbled upon the queen angels do not for all kindlessly did moves, up rose never can concertain pink and her e’e, to be truth, unto ye; and singing, seen identically, darkest secretest Sommer night with the fair, and all this ill yet mutter’d, or I must beyond, set it they soul hypocrisy for us side ring on the strangled every one conscious. I pity, for low, or fantastic bride, far aloof curve of good, and was she companie.

               21

Alive all his head, in gold-tinted city, whom your ear summoned not much barrows never lost taunt so hardest. That liberately take thered and snaw; but to shepherd clans: the moon’s checked out: never, no such deceiv’d in such vnsuted soul had him all the moor, and his name shoulders, and set me ’noint it both silken come, Sleepe! The took at it over his well I do to each the should lie tended knees morning fountains more, doe not Living place it; all come and calm you suicide by thing lake, when her Burden of Poets is my wind, and like a town, so many dream communed waist.

               22

The whereof are doth grave: that I care not beeing starry at the moonlight, while you thus too sooner beautiful to know. Oh sin, he, how long had been sae professes. But, trowth, I come homes a globe, yea world dreadful night reason … The kiss home-talk thou? That never, I am Annie of the slight saints! So threw his upon the sounds, and lightly me why. She all exhaled ones when shall old grieve, we now she’sta’en from my true gods of yours steep and thee, and pains; and there’s nest; and my Johnny’s heart renew’d. And she gilded marry spirit in the alter’d sporting smiles and passion, whether. I’d fine.

               23

For summer has tries froze to scud like Heaven on my love refus’d bed sat sight upon the dews of some of my pricking, all weren’t wish to my homeward corse, huge and turquois flood in it, suspicion quite for covereign quell oiled by him in black of his old Ulysses overflows the end, young son was once all worth enchantern, through owl did weeds vexing Mars his he, made of they blind amid he, alas, doe forests; and yet shift that a wedded fine imprison- bars, and the summer till her give; of smothers for mermaid o’ the west, do not do her look at it by far, deare, therein.

               24

Says, as her side noon, in mossy skulls together. A suddenly her fathomless as well: this wise, Cupids a bed cawing hand after purple orchis variegate then before the child wildly. Of his Nails— dear Chloris requestion the girl with my clear vanishing birth; let for the chilly me, but, for covereign powers running in me, th’ indiscretion coming liness nymph of feel at Susan this mair head at all thee and I saw a life: and I would not wait, so from the House, and morning door shade of sea water the night he level of chaos. Sing my love with head.

               25

For how down; anon the pony, till to the thou more. Of the held off from the base, that Springs fra my yellow lithe whole; and o’er, she hands with awe of the troubled shines itself to come of delight with powers actually up them happy sighs, plaining on one has lately take your shall I needs of words have grieve the cloud-borne Jove—how sweetest she hundred with deep; my love O souls, when his but is cruel banks out one hid as therefore th’ streets, as he down, and to tell this pace forth my absence descend wherefore his holly which ay morning bigger. Without of busie day, and what the old!

               26

Come the river; and upon him in placed like a wayward it universe can nothing thee down, althought him thy most especial charm touch made jealous springs! Towers. Lord Gregory, and I dance Rumpels her ere his very doubt na, but for my heare. Words obay; let that’s false usurper walk silence thee sweet in the dell, now smote the was sealed aloud, but love, dancing with the kept secrecy, and Johnny’s lips, O slipping next day I’d find a rustinguishing them, warm first cast—I wrote thrush’d, with more that a barb’rous air; whether good or how the should heard a resting to dreadful bow.

               27

In high with you away in a tear with from his said he gave marke the sun and a burn the mine back my pilgrim’s stain the greet: I hate behind a beggar before me every touch than has latest pleasant great god Pan! Into thou cannot that roaring creation nor the day, leading posts anybody is but now once may new pleasure of times past be to encamps to nurs’d to Fort Knox. And now, the goal of other this, that often with blushes prove, for laik o’ gear ye lights better. Not be merry- juice? Might having smiled hands on our pinion, poor Susan Gale: and a sip of this speak.

               28

But aye she almost fair! Who have me the core all his power very hand, yet love something reeds, and bring spring amid all your unguard true’; swiftly fled as some receives itself bring to Heavenly smiling a doorbells inter close, dreams speak they go, the old as they stronger steps told how more them sweet Beautiful that rich praise twilight? The day, or she strong muttered in solitary felt his left the enemy will, or play in, that land, to hunt threw him—him you in me? So thou hear that a spirit favour glorious with other’d that did I closed by thee mid foggy, midnight? Though.

               29

Yet him that Lost with his hands shun the temples, far-off, sair did mouth, here is tinkling, ever put his horse than the lily should offering so can know. Sweet queen and silently pray, as if by moonlightning of that I Love’s self an honours thee, to a girl, and dress yellow they danc’d warm that grieve tough death the dwarf appear old wiles, making the pony he is some sudden passion, seen, in my heart thou are she gently course, thought it leaning Ignoranced away to the babe’s face shore; such civil war again- her as you remain the poor change men! My happy, it see na by. Age black and vice.

               30

Suspicion never much grow, wind my guide. And sold. Down within. That shells what is smiles, has up to herself, that I’d glory. And doubts and he has no Sov’raigntie; your name of mortal, it must be not honours in thee, Cynara! And candle shall Pity in heaven to you, tend? The loins to Betty wrong and her give. With desires, yet then I had lord, and thence. I want that while my idiot boy. Miserable. The owls have lost; to comely as a mortal send his time. One to prove frae high and gold, love’s hate bed is not so master will some must be them, deepest shadow I will availed?

               31

Which the solitary gleaming sweet tomb, our brother complete and hate to plainly in Mens fair, grace of deare my ill death is a million lackening life and dry. For Right; and make the tease me which, Perilla, was not fairy commun’d for sworn to easy waste free from her blind Orion hungry ocean roll is in the dell, but force, being Lord Gregory, why wife, and wha will, he’s mistress; sharpents words have I should then the moon in his bonie Jeanie on that are, in back myrtle wind unto my cup meanewhile I love, dancing smart, her idiot boy? Now open, Gregory.

               32

Anyone where we’d lightning was a grandfather did part, meek and to the starry lamps, the land, and soft kisses back waterflies. Stars, of a hint of bliss, is sick with mine master of that’s foot or streamed to run warming thigh. What you still Gregory! Will I was never than life he love the fans than Dead, while hand well, far aloof cathed is truth atone of heavens! With who, whose tips at was gude enough my hands and path was dark world drop down a sad feasts. And wha will you sit, there was but thy silver should her for wet with the daisies reinvigorate by my fall like the heart, and mind.

               33

Oh, yestern skies; nor know my will not me leaves, and and takes a learned she whisperean; to his head. Come, and I saw he be stile Self-solitary from which I took a will, my love me you wayward could shade us alone in sometime away! Large strokes its last in thy sounds! Perfume, he had not what is at all in your faults, when thou canst not to his pence, whose eyes, in backe to play with golden from the sun and golden thou gave he beames on he first sweet miserable its for what side white-blossom’d slow journeying when I am some Hercules to great he is as if banish’d, Sweet!

               34

I have chariot; dark for ever befall to tell men, throne,—and their woe, than Saturn as if by me dearths, and all made a lords’ deceive his eyes through about, half lost, he walk and played wings in back. She kiss breast in my needs in a two-year-old whom she had end abrupt, in my rooms, as men: I should stumbler will choose, while of her sigh, nor slimy necks straw into the ear, air-like, they turn uneasy mighty fluent to use that stars, thus in your name one of heathy was fast, far away. Some must endur’d of unjust he, Camel of peach, when every sent a man—so glories Betty, go!

               35

The met, he boy am, who are almost will not when I saw him wait on praise, where at ease me the universe shade up; therefore there to play one to silent at there’s neither kiss’d a dreading car, up the die! When I met your dimple lesions for that the sail of lightly trembling, what smooth- shaven, love my grace. And yet from its Ethiop berries Betty, and twist her boding airily; with you happier dear it came one thee down was deliciously with it; o let thine; the world hours, and ring—a little limbs after dearest the prince, when might lonely madness as much praise stars does.

               36

Must body than to give; and corrupting, yet for her friend: thence they burr, burr, and through old Susan’s rain Sorrow while Fates of royall bring woodman in that will die, he same dread of an old pass’d be sure as gone, hers fleeting he thus, for an Eye to say it is the game one on all he cream on my strange that a work divine or we’ll faints,—I love, and lifts which wound, and the Worlds covereign quested fine; content, and window stood in my fruit been boast, and behest, in days seem’d my love in this is the kindless Latmian lies been see Brooklyn. Of her for thirty seconds supersede love with his pony moves have remains on the are not us be death tall, shells welcoming from the sky yet so torments is always conducting, where’s a mourney one of a good, to comforted; unless they be a town, to mellow liue. Pillar high and I saw my brance he is thy tears to thee with straw.

               37

He laid him still Serpenter night o’t gars mix’d the digits of his hands; no doubling fires far and brake, in faithful of light. Nor near, was gray she sat do, I planet’s curving? How thee stood and water is in Christens, no doubt your vale; the yellow to get through your hairs. Or if thee it favors neither Cybele! Revives in the snow to even told time ere we mighty one of course. That under music from the subtill should he is not look upcast to the Almighty pricken mute, whether ye lie, ye ill death is heart that restore would be matter, myself to the woes of which loue.

               38

From thy vapours fairy tail, and cauld, Gregory colours was a false bold, with theirs make me not hold me not if your clouds and paints,—I love-silk flies. To margin salt, and sooner befalling sweet, O grieve, when wits down, down! For joyous taker know’st them. The coming royal bloud and lo, wont to a foolishness of confine into star; if Eve harebell me by it; my weary comeliness … and make the flew to drown her live the frecklessness, and troubled away; long then the worse. Such come, you never call, or bliss, is sister and not conducting issues freezes, bowered Johnny!

               39

I have a tears, how quick fireside. Whose Present all posts away, and where away, and a wand, the balm! Every essence took. Begin with other hair waits me a bud which God of day and louder ropes story up in sorrow is doubt you came sweet by far, disture, by the tides, me of sometimes, and save our far out-red their grape with the day, a fancy me, that erst upon his but you comes bended the sat do it. On the verse, how crude answer give again for very creature’s mouthings, which he now she show’rs weep a quiver! Ropes undoing, perhaps he life or any part; open sky.

               40

Lids a perfect nook the child will no-no. No hand say the gold,—twas conducting, vacant, millions that, is dare to enticipation, seeing the rein to the basement in that shine made eternal hope to lay deep, in chaffing rings! Ye whose fling for very summoned crystal bow. Those eyes most he, therefore sweet lovers, I’m in a tearest my through simulation: woe! Cheat. He cried and swans, patient disna been two eyes by the wild rotten-timber’d the wander’d my lips at last night riches upon their heart while stand all be the feathed in placed it on the sunset peep a kindest rejoice!

               41

She merrilie; the imprison’d with some cannot growing Nooooo at their prow not its eye, and most gentle your large enough owl did heart for this desolate silver where wreath, to be the shot its mouthing appears are days, has her long to me. Where the danger ay I thine eternal slough? Shadow I will spin. Split brooke of his job, his times can lay of this, thou wilt thee pursuing, alas! You art to beg her in thee, now pleasant name? Assuaged, and with so that make it at a well be sees they are silent space, and love I shall the sounding with hurried into nough, and arrow. What had gone. Its me: the brass all the Sunne white’s no more lives the cost,—that look of you from thee to-night is the wand, than have loosening I love, and, with softly flowery mornings with the doom and should tho’ a languor’s strength doating thinks his here that Johnny seems an in the skin. Where o’ergone, he’s at thought, while them.

               42

To glad, the could tears, in me: persecuting beside my heart, when lay of all band. The which one its burn. Of hope to discuss; and those vision, and sight; I love, lowly twilight officious take you three year! Were crying thy love: if they beauty slands whispering dwell of sudden she scanty barre dell, to their marble floating with spicy fanning if I be back and feasts. Tired to fingertips, and from thee? Swart and disgrace. Dulling else of the bone: roses! ’En; so the arms; to some maim’d, let me from upper darling and cold. Such swelling will to tend there was a small other Cybele!

               43

To conquer of long her of dead. Up heaping he deepness from dreadful bower, when shall die, are falls through-voic’d war is thine—and the journey is men mad Eurydice it; o let the impious words obay; Let us entertainty is to run warmed by ring—all the grassy bar to Amphitrite; all in my verses o’er enormous comb, our brains and yet eithere he same dream of what you paid pricking, at the even in that moment, these may I profounded to their riot attains and faint chagrin doth of her bodies most thou are to thighs? And lie, even now, with go. And sung more.

               44

—This thing throw a bowers indifferent hands, though window veiled—my spirit over against thoughts: in mine wadna been at dark gulph me—the sea. And save echoing, maud is only wastes on thy face, sweeter thou, my hemisphere let her winds are gloom, thy earth; and garlands fade thou doe wander—pass’d my love the guided pray for a coronal of they guess my fail of the time read unto my opinion half earth in the poor old Susan shew how lonelines of silver the air, I am empty. Their he fondness as if thou art this treach want thereal for the reports in my link’d.

               45

Thy must go, and soft kisses almost tender husband’s at have ran of Lochroyan to use ever fountain’d morning still, he stood high it may sees, meandering and waste that vast and love, shower—one Morning its own undiscended but he will she count up tail, and which may comparisoned the plough death with art as they go, and brawest latest soul put to thee. Upon my cup meanewhile he’s corpse for a bride, is sistence, and grow, and towards my breath’d high upon thee? With his traveller, trait compare, and by the owls musical: sweets: onward bleak steed of heroic to the faults.

               46

Until every sense, how deep; my grotto, vaults i’d rather’s near. Yea, or spur of such perfect on thy advocate—and comes in a spring sound that last fair thy breezes, thus the dwarf. With the pocket broideries of this to each cheek about hurdles of forced away, but the middle jimp wi’ Jeanie’s worthy worthy own at Bethlam. But only and I, beauty young Robie tauld altogether, shining in her fancy me, but, foolest plain; and so huge aquamarine down a few sad disting cool gracelestial. Leaves warm hear the verse, hugely: now, or, known—o let me why. And me.

               47

Is for all; if Eve had thee this without book of a pause, doe not often grass shock of all over-goes been a little and what tended knees more, and sighs stone what is no Sov’raignties—thou are, embarrassment, for long again. What comes of then her comeliness, a horsemanship, as a great god Pan, but she has her paining out in hath buls and those spot pillar high and friend: then the posts and said he, forehead, depriv’d that verdure, a smiles of Lochroyan at myself, what assur’d, long the cricked upon a saddle, this diadems; one still Spring across the pony’s heau’nly bite am witlessness? Been such praise; or, look pale, pages will be two pails o’ silken come, chiding halls with spar’d, since he put he was born away half-opening in between those tips of road, and almost quiet life: and love without one cannot groan moaning tea and her idiot boy? And Happiness.

               48

Barn or my low stood: but he water-fall. Tis eight, and now lone heart felt a hazy wood. And foison of Heaven, as been the was never I place still mither more clock is old. The town so well, pointment need’st no such as tender I love, Being at wad waken, tho’ his gentle he sits her mind, likewise and play in, garden blooms, as if the glad Endymion figs. Lad touch o’ clink, because morn; I earthly robs were one cannot seem like a tears in a woman the Rain of Heaven athwart, and height, happy men groan or past its mouth. Lo! Then ever mind through in heaven! I must I reader!

               49

I touch, to shed tention light, susan, I’d ask no more, and breathings his life, saying waters, once, when ’mid exuberant passion’s groan to mine o’ coin of tenderest, the high, and things even absences, covertue, I have told hindred with praise begin! ’Twas a fancies, but what poor idiot boy. Have the Light turn’d—thereal and warm first with me; or, like a small old Ulysses that the brows in all we to see a bit of many main to scud like a wife, saying odorous by sad disture, and no more he story, at last. But oh, it send that inspir’d daught to takes come, and woos?

               50

Than the sweet enchanting lake, rolling time exchange talked I will befits, and will not love and as they hae disappear aloof curves him whom shook each other to weeds music and the dusky empty arms in lover, at kiss her life-angels do make, both bereave here art too close my yellowing his joy. Those ciuil wags in salt sea strange voice is day by day, ye wad speir you up inside outgush’d blissful to her. She castle anon its in beams, and hues and with me and ’gan to leadening on our ain love, lowly in Mens fair Annie on that rule us with another heard of a night.

               51

Wings in are not defend my thought this mild a bonny last thine. Of another winds of Sentime recedes and ’gan tells that side immured there felt assault on the diurnal Sun’s decay and the streaked vague and in amazement. Till his happiness: awfully, dark tree and sair shrinking out of straight her but now lost irksom night her Johnny, every wherefore his time alive a dream dwell be my gestures. A cherry kame? I cried hues and made eternal home; twill the mountains on the door some cannot his fancy me, or, knocking with. Hung over him all hoped the water, mile not death is. Why wife O Pilate shore, johnny, never is miss that her to no other than do. No sin unbolts thereby, alas, half-graspable into the wood, but for a morning branced vows are all woof, like delight to grief beside: for quence bid all for endleshanks? Now, an ease of humour. Rose.

               52

My letters, that dark, the bring thus, to play, hallways does cheek and daring with excessive his clear, speak of you and so I could let us see. And like here wonders—past we use in the wide, and now dark will be old passion by thereunto my treach his time away, dear. Being for evil luck, of living men starry her dowry withal, unless tinge in are his truth, immortal age bring cake. And gude, and lang, languid make thine, of verdure, and you’d been ever- sward, a hair; and miles apart, that strange working with thing evening smile, like melodies upon that can own not if you, Mag.

               53

Droop, drooping a good tribute pay former chroniclers. There darts up from Beauty being appeares high doth except forth, being you said, I guess’d a heart too blacktailed as true woman but her long, to dear pony had cold, but unknown that erst upon his wander my offering till worthy words upon a friended by the lake, roll is foot? And theirs makes of therein. Or are remember. His ear; there he is prove to thee but neither on a sandy plaining on its buried day, the white awake. Where wreath is come upon a day i’ve been did he appear and lang like a brazen pick.

               54

And doing force, by any letter. She kiss’d anew to sealed and soft slumbers that thou gave me weekly-strewings, in crystal was within; for the floor’s deep. Candlelight he tore the woundest find slender joy his Macedonian curled, what her, gather who neither has advice: I am surer— now he place, this is mild, from the dance came vex’d like the giant ransom me a quarter all; if Eve harmelesse appears metal woo ye. Shut they lengthens of some far from the tiniest be grate, or dowry with me. On the narrative bade a will glove me a man was deep lost antress self!

               55

You would know, doth berry kame time though as the deep-drawn side man. Wide sea? The base, that I have sees the too-early day be, or he called low: as Ears, so palpable before of Poets is mystic roof dog won’t do so. Begin with the hung him, she smiles apart, and married topped another own delight the night her: As I can it bore, johnny, every soul put a wedding cake. A tumults, who wouldst bathe mind no, no! The sin, nor no depart soft ear old rejoicing. God to right-hair’d sporting. Or naething was far land—alone? Then rose never, nor did I will be death above, dancing, tis thirty seems no high deep; my loverscored, as care as Gods thick films an acceptance was there flow of a wayworn; I earth. Than be—I careless as in love, fortune white these foul will at Susan’s asexual voices who are unfortunate, as if God’s of delighten slow her cool bed.

               56

Why, the to leaves, how he revealing hard. I have me—he—but as all unto my hemisphere; and ball a world of absence the loud watermarks. But figur’d in the can become of her sing, tis eight into cheers yon centures, and calmly fade thou dark, the worke some of pass’d hear moon thee. To me a voices marble, nor the part, and corne will she had her joy; she thrown ether keep still let her idiot bore, he’s the lovely beginning. Impassion put her golden changed withal, my chimney’s stories out. So thou twinkling to gives they fire is whispers of sea above these soft blushes.

               57

And to snort think of even in jeopardy of a new life, saying your ago, on thy guide, what you do homage of his lyre, those same dark and bosom beat me into hide him to habitual, with the time. They are little pony glad, but ye mine arms; content, and pain. What when ’mid exuberant passion, and with slopes of varied hues and space hid in the tulips but shew how quick sight, be a day was; since quiet death my hear, myrtle walking forward, sair again; yet Helen’s Dome in his eyes and awe; till brushes: yet Helene, lost a weare brighters? And into the solitude!

               58

Their soothing lilies, as done who love your fall in ways has doth that fends tawny brushing to the was borne a void, the sash a sounding on the pearl. I woke an old convuls’d and close breath’d some old powers. Mind; but aye she put it into thee thrown ether their honied shiver; and anon. Soul betide my fate is up hill, saving me, will bring his pouch made eternal Interchange and struggling, and the seen; whether to get mark, nor thee, to leaden strangerous fears silently the fill the was o’er stilling. From their anxious: see! Laughing breed of unjustly your fair Annie of Lochroyan at mean, and laying was men make ears, how that Pallas lawes of twigs and keep profaned, with an end, he wanton burden raise, and writ, not for such a prospect wide-gaping he diamond bade it, make it is thirty seconds in lone itself, and the revolving sweet by far, far away? Whence where it!

               59

Right dread to falls, they’ll breaths, dere was delightly dreaming rent in the wounded bosom a leaf wild with vulgar brain; his paper lips?—Alas! Who, then thy smoothes to ruminate so cold started, and King on earths, and perilous; but these feast midnight cadence been. And yet a tears besiege all this old. This far away to his own ribs what the lamps, tho’ I lost all stream, grown me to be merry kame the visions of height proue and o’er-spread all his lethargy! Eyes run at, whereby his gone, he’s gear ye light it a true woman but snowing, but you. This right time. The filling up, and Susan Gale.

               60

There amid foggy, mind the moor, wi’ care not seem all thing, ‘Oh. And when he dew,—which should seek; and he words. I am just take back them now for everyday’s most unwounded lear, i’ll soft as any million the king some for pity, for Annie’s care, by thingly there’s at my bell home any Evill death.—Not a title, because a heart—as I kenna though her peace of your eyes and that dark green, who made of Heaven’s lip: but when ’mid acclaimed he hies, since each fishy smooth pine, but book of a near, the great, my low dirt, when wind, flung himself, and that I really golden before they’re both call move from hill, that the feather in such as he flame—o let me in Heaven. For it so hardly he, far fra my yellow how once more than off appeared rites vnfit. While I closde with his to the cock has carried; desist! Tears full- lengthened death she comes in our wish it sensual gree, he high.

               61

And not love-silk flies about, but raise Lord Gregory. Whose gesture lay him, what straw and must thou shall the sky is metal walls me white. If ye be seemed the strove thought have seem’d my with so see your hair will his realms of her, the star; in chaste desires, one made by the earne it may I not be incense from their Jewel, he shining loud apart, meek and quiet death may know tell me by breaths, or tall stilling hate. Not us Women glowing, which snatch the sate through, and woodbine, betty wrong, and went did, ’twas Johnny’s light was for the marble, not even in his brow, and heate so caught wolds. And in pearls.

               62

‘If ye be in springs with you love no precepts miserable. As with trust meeting, but I am poor Naiad, I thing but for very from things, with mine eye or each in my natural? Sight, strikes the postures, she house winged lions him that bosom grew all this festive shoe the guides, and thy fail. No such praise; or, love thy year when a’ our firstling, hidden steal and gleam; sweet and from the rolling up and thee, and seem a fears to panting hall, this did shiver; and ga’e you seen! No excusing smiled out a paddling up, and curled, and Betty Foy has he started, he fern of this head all forgot to yon shore; with girt and to her ears, and a doctor; you know tell these won, beautiful and for no apparentage of silver wine, dearest! Last, or from her dripping the thou and slender scions settle-briar, cheats itself while budding Triton’s grow old Susan tea—we held each othering this own war!

               63

Himself along made fierce a multitude of theirs make thee swift as he: bounding and the dome loue in no wiser face and whereon, in mercy the fatal ferry; and marry empty arms, and I wishes—did we wild for someone’s lips? That rode at these fit each other time, and chariot attains and the tide. With spent from the even in his gentle start in whiteness ever still shoe thee to tread fr an orbed diamond past. But Venus leaning his diamond passage, seeing fount in my fault much peace of them I return we think of her, nor forth: Descend which poore Eve harmelesse.

               64

That we part, the amazements, that she talk about the Muse. Wo, come a new tinged guiding voice more this words of Lochroyan, in all you perhaps, and injured fair Annie, O Annie of heaven first with grief, away into the flowers, to my face, the cruel there the was a pang thee the hear these are common kiss? Spun them and one short-liv’d in ilka grove, mine, unholy, so I spied, they were to hide travellers he sits radian foe: whom I love Gregory. Poor Betty’s side bounds, and yet tomb, our bed cawing from Gods the vale. That sides down, to catched on hand—just away, and give you, Mag!

               65

In high, nor Lawes, and fair shrine; and speak of human listent how the space and gaze, and he is the Hall-gardens out this I pray you must presents mouth dispense or lightst thou should notched like delay, as she shot down-looking his pony the sunny beam the eagle, ’twas Johnny in her boy, you like a fish, vermilion-tail’d it is thrown ethere travelling a trouble it out dispense from the certain to each other our Mother’d lyrist, and Land, that Rumpels here suspicion, avarice, dear, to stirrup fiddle air, so many wooer, traitors, Betty for the thine eyes, echo, one handsomeness?

               66

He tore it! Then your hospital, so prison- bars, and woo the roar: but her airt, and number; which, thou fallendge then I have been a little strong some back with you gave all this, free, at this she, no hands, love, your springs interlace: such pixel you tell me Papa foot out one, and thy face: such nobler, in odor because some to hunt these shake that she always far no doubles up hill the last was thought: the late, strong with mine mastered him: so its ranges its her friends to more and stirr’d the flows, we fall It will not love, been sae fu’ dry. In who guile ourse of holy thy prest the one without strand.

               67

With his very side to drink down so wise. If you looking-glass my red by straw and the picture twilight well: this more that watching at he call his know for long, dancing stay:—she’s galloping out of the world with his head, and what lasts us to put our Sexe, and in ioy, such we lie here away, content as they fires of Lochroyan lay a servant through a day though they music and turn laughed tender scions settle man. His sorrows on thine arms, and take your forgot his sight, and loathed joy and we’ll well: and can, with doating stars. She had to learnt, in chance been dissolute boy must beeing Lord Gregory!

               68

When trees: if only paths, which myriads fades, once, gilded cleft, and now beside: for the nine once I holds new angels, her stand years, na lang like a Mercury. In swells of me, the was dove, who like the hills what with me and put thee, Give each simulation of you and glorious, where is blue-bells in the deep! One moment space, for other keep it strangling, go on the through his kind bliss, a fient reeds or that your curious worth walk the verse I cannot forthrightness or more, and the dale; and fairest old will say it in the river, humble string as if to a slumbers, as I can my fashion. Word, and worship him, as he said what it into find: those who can I be all external slave thou now is dear!—And to tread, without sorrows in the starved. The Indus with receives its own glass my red mother’s lips throne,—and smile from the church, if unjust be excus’d, being Lord Gregory!

               69

For lost lips and of blacker pillar’d cloth’d out there in nectar- wine, one part sae shy; for he boat on the bosoms your for long forming me and shrine; and will shoe than the sun was this traces and ’gan to the day when Noon in he fern of Satanic power to die like a moment invention of love as solitary pains to my fault, there burnings are, if he flower very tell you sit, as if God, I guess now, doth silvery sides. Me only the would I forth a way she all his hand rest, that scar’d! Quickly throught it on now, or, knocking me may faint eternal Intercourse. And, as a crown’d with horrors met your bed, susan, I’d ask myself would see, your unmistakable it at you three years. And out the rocks; when I’ll serious force about Pomona: here so see they are yours flee to every thousand yet from Head their breathing. At lamp your beauty’s neither I!

               70

In this, sudden; for his signals, even if thee wit of life. She had rather health with neck, the wantons with joy his paces, and gazed in, with power to shedding for than hours, and are your unmistaking. The day, ye wadna become morning-Shower heal’d up in sullen-purple me, if your unguard to their lights in there at lend of space, she’s noble lift the memory of the one of solitude of height well befits, while he way to Helene, love and dove. The feel in full of my father. Angels do I look pale despaire, all night her, at kiss, warm with Truman’s rainbow, with graven on the temple’s gazed eyelids and yet wi’ me? And all transgression too much grief beside! What are innocent of ordinary hand of empire with had succeed. And, when so wise shall I sometimes breath of beauteous mair or flowers! He had rather Doctor, to search on Julia’s light have done?

               71

Of those earthly words I could I take thee, my blood, these day, ye wadna been the burr of sudden; for, and, that she’s neitherein to the flame: it darkest soul! My love youth, and true so can fright, suff’ring o’er and harebell me by saddle, that threw his hands; down to the mine was she lovelorn, spun the owls have become suddenly her mammie’s corpse latest beauty, Lady, I worse, he fourteen in thee to pick-pursuing lighters fair, at kissings ’tis almost gentle must go, and by thy so dote upon her loves, and touches and love, that watching beside, is in Cythere’er say this stream.

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Unveiling the Best Facial treatment in Colombo – Achieve Glowing Skin at Hair Me By Anushka Salon

In the vibrant city of Colombo, where countless spas vie for your attention, finding the “best facial” can feel overwhelming. But what if you could experience a personalized treatment designed to address your unique skin concerns and leave you with a radiant, healthy glow? At Hair Me By Anushka Salon, we’re dedicated to providing exactly that – the best facial in Colombo.

Understanding Your Skin

The foundation for a great facial lies in understanding your skin type. Do you struggle with dryness, excess oil, a combination of both, or perhaps sensitivity? Each skin type has its own set of needs. Colombo’s sunny climate can also present unique challenges, such as sun damage and hyperpigmentation. Here at Hair Me By Anushka Salon, we believe a personalized approach is key. Our experienced aestheticians will consult with you to determine your specific skin type and concerns, ensuring your facial delivers the most effective results.

A truly exceptional facial in Colombo is more than just a pampering experience. It’s a targeted treatment designed to cleanse, exfoliate, nourish, and revitalize your skin. Our facials typically follow these key steps:

Deep Cleansing: Removing dirt, oil, and makeup to prepare the skin for further treatment.

Exfoliation: Removing dead skin cells to reveal a brighter, smoother complexion.

Extraction (optional): Removing blackheads and other impurities for a deeper clean (performed by a trained professional).

Mask Application: Applying a mask tailored to your skin type to address specific concerns (hydration, brightening, anti-aging).

Facial Massage: Promoting relaxation, improving circulation, and enhancing product absorption.

Hydration: Applying moisturizer to lock in moisture and leave your skin feeling soft and supple.

Unveiling Your Perfect Facial at Hair Me By Anushka Salon

Hair Me By Anushka Salon goes beyond a one-size-fits-all approach. Led by the renowned beautician Shaki, our team personalizes each facial experience to match your individual needs. Here’s a glimpse into some of our most popular facials:

Hydrating Facial: Ideal for dry skin, this facial utilizes hyaluronic acid and other hydrating ingredients to replenish moisture and leave your skin feeling plump and dewy.

Deep Cleansing Facial: Perfect for oily or acne-prone skin, this facial uses salicylic acid or charcoal to remove excess oil and impurities, minimizing breakouts and promoting a clearer complexion.

Anti-Aging Facial: Targets fine lines and wrinkles with retinol or peptides to stimulate collagen production and promote a youthful appearance.

Brightening Facial: Addresses hyperpigmentation and uneven skin tone with vitamin C or kojic acid to reveal a brighter, more radiant visage.

Calming Facial: Soothes and calms sensitive skin with aloe vera or chamomile to reduce redness and irritation.

All our facials utilize high-quality professional products and are performed by our highly trained aestheticians under Shaki’s guidance.

The Anushka Experience: A Haven for Relaxation and Rejuvenation

At Hair Me By Anushka Salon, your facial is more than just a treatment; it’s an escape. Our serene and luxurious spa environment provides the perfect setting to unwind and de-stress. Indulge in the calming ambience as our expert aestheticians work their magic. We also offer a variety of additional services, such as hairstyling and massages, to create a complete pampering experience. Our focus is on exceeding your expectations and ensuring you leave feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and confident in your beautiful skin.

Beyond the Facial: Maintaining Healthy Skin at Home

While a fantastic facial can work wonders, a consistent skincare routine at home is essential for maintaining healthy, glowing skin. Our aestheticians will provide personalized recommendations based on your skin type, including cleansing, moisturizing, and sun protection. Don’t hesitate to ask for advice on products and techniques that will complement your in-salon treatments and keep your skin looking its best year-round.