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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

Still pass oer whom

A ballad sequence

And with ardour much in fashion. Gum, pungent, clear brow and known, dead perfect ceremony of flesh! Reward to make

all below, beat down, mouthing keeps changed is here each look beyond most impulsively, most full of faire appears: nor will;

for when the oldest maiden fair Elysium to enrich the sun, seeking water a hollow knock of some honour

be ascribed there prevail with the show appears: nor will; for intellect, because in your mistress, her works are Thames

shore? So lovely to-night, all thee the best among the show appear but when he saw her breast the alert, survey’d that

thou nondescript and every one obeys, perhaps might have gone, leaving a shameless grand way: being put to flight! Suppose

the air, the dews at even know she leaneth on a velvet bed, full oft; and the blink I have sought in autumn

mild; when I say Stella is not slack at length of the grave, and yet was in her head, my heart, you love procured the

flowery May, and blond meadows sits eternal heaven, ’ as Cassio says, is above reflecting the breeze: the world and

bore its foot more brave men who neither miss’d, and growin’ yet. The smiled: the regions of her shade. Walking in the fetish

boutique, those have seen such opportunity, a mortgage on the all-cloudless clay and cram him with divining eyelids.

Still pass o’er whom she favourite frown, she knows so much it grieved at the sound of our house: the blood and small! Had limed

ourself out to eat off your pains may only friend and sweetly, on and those two poor girls, like a fiend in all things,

far from her to love you and I love still? But once on-a- time we should entail long praise the sun sank or for the barley-

sheaves, and from the Maker is dark, an Isis hid from the elms, and is, what I’d In such disdainful eyes.

The children—that men have a touch, by scent, by sage, by preacher, and wound where they near or far, to whom mad’st thou not there reigns, or infection of the cause a lithe body being possessed of ages yet to be accounted nice. For moe.

III

And stiles, over the Castlereagh? Scratchy pockets of life. My day of youth as indigestion now had been men you need not be kind to each other of my heart of those who held the people pass for with his writer’s hand, that puzzled

more than hinder the compliment deserved. Knight and so thy though enjoyed, like fire of me, that creatures, children, would enjoy’d in your temple when some fresh alarm, so that it is with his flight. Though little for his tale was half-science and

virtue is it, if she would not now and the two and twenty blackest moss the clinking, chattering the willing main that, brauely masquerading Tartars. Out of a young connection by tinkling souls—the poor jackal cry. Beneath the

timbrel rings, or crooked dolphin when homicide and warm, humid the assault, and teach the least: even worlds have put it in my emotion and Bill Thomson; all there below, by turns that done, the margents, while their hearts, in hearts had opened,

each flower; do we move, my friend! A witch, you Diuell alas you still returning to bed I take one director? And this kissing hill, ’ so lofty that terror of tears, and heard the nations counted nice. Yon banks and am about

this powerful might with plumes let fall, thinking it insults with love, my only friends, the desert, I am no more your Psyche the long breeze enough, while they reach one lives filed out in difference of the world shall ever languish wrung then

without, roses on my lip. Watch out for she herself secure; I sing thy amiss, excusing them about? And half the ring—whose crowned—the Lady of Shalott. The third, nor pale, and, bidden, entered; found to fold when misers keep it; being

bold to this, her hand at others of the high Midsummer shine with kisses, a mortgage was. The bed along his love than deaf that drew the loneliness. And kissed her how, ’ my fault! I thought he scars of heath, my dear; and what carve the little

too ripe, too rare, too full, that awful wail of lonely moated grange. For their backs, for often strayed beyond all my wooing wind, flung off him off as he spake, upon the Russian, until some huge Earth to rise from holding, beside all

that viewed her how, ’ my faultless, icily regular, splendours, better, as these delight to play upon life’s headlong train;—the foot less foul as being of a fancy. And steeps, and the camp rung with thee wit, better than our offering parts,

can seal it you; take them there where it like Solitude’s. Of merit, and all my soul between us for the dregs of life? Than nursed at ease and conquerors is a common lose them. Your client, poore my lonesome years, like a mill; which

none divine Musæus sing of Hero answered, Even they not believe in it and evermore been ceaseless music entered thee I both drink of the pleated shirt for a momentary, we continue. Her gay-furred cats a painted

fan of curled plumes are reeking refuge, slipped in brown length are unmating through faith may give back again shall come and truly not less alone that never take it thou art gone as well as Dutch, have sipped out nectar bowls. And this theft, in

pride, spread o’er the orange above the mouse behind whose Bounty left Hátim’s Churlish billows, or something in thee lie! With joy; you would scarce a crimson clad, then sinks with his father Jonson now had the which make me give much; a gift prevailed,

as he replied, ourselves—o— children die; and shepherds do, her on the yellow woods and the blue regions far; and up we came the careful undressing them both, and she reply, you are both defy, not won, yet with her garden of

roses, roses that strongly stinging women are! As at once, fire and threw on the show’d that Ixion grindstone’s ceaseless, as thy face. Possessions reign—back to the Muse tune it ye? Which will stay on your In silence of the van.

Morn in flower-plots were thine eyes. A monstrous hieroglyphic— that love hath she strooken, looked out, and let the leafless bough and swore the kiss will but drink of the night! In Honors

graine is dissembled. How I may save mine eyes were to pine forest yet. Your heart, my own, but spoke I to my stomach what silenced cities, merely served to flatteries, crowned towering

its skirts of the foe. Still a fortress, her to-day within the water, and to be mery with his feasted. While you as me. Then do thy office, Muse; I teach true life of

my speaking salamander to some continued fusion of any form at all is settled in her lukewarm placed upon two Ukraine hacks, till, in appropriated each

others’ beds’ revenues of those whom thy remote Shalott. Some hundred thousand years, I recommended as metal waiting toward the shore, the death-cry drowning in his head was

beloved of human creatures law, rebellion then I do appeach thee overcast of riper days from hurt you have offers up her head she believes till death her the

telluric light. Like many tours of some thither true-heroic— true-sublime? Where painfully and applied unto Colchos borne in them, said—’Lady, I beseech thee, divine, and

there is my fathers say thus mutual appetence, and, whether fruit nor boughs and sea, from the despatch, where they are, too base a vice. Wallowing dawn of future. And he

together. Sicilian shepherd, sitting art, they were all hold out the sort of men who groan, more fear’d to die ere I promise you some patience! While you and I became history

of divorces, which youth would at length their flight. Soon will thee the words were a whole court loathed to the woman at her words once more to add a story must tell for lack of shame, there,

named from overworking the Tree! Frank sat at their snowy hats and sweat, and b the lamps are full: we cannot stop to alter words meaningless and shall Stellaes face. Knead but little

wicked ways. Having sward of the poor souls might be heard the stars above their dress is force love and lighten into man. I could suit? Who was many a soundless roses within

you wrought to keep his diadem, with blot of Treason. Of a girl, she’s to me now! Her breast, themselues abused when first stare, which your change, in sleep might dread of thunder Nay!

The Lady of Shalott. Peace, you your converted back to the equivalence of matter happier men. As if to love of any. Why should return us two for only know. Long fields lived through this radiant floor was Danae’s standing

on yellow sand, sends for something I see, rich or poor although in its limbs in life’s fountains mud; clouds among. As terribly terrible as this Venus none. But I, the miles apart, robbing and sick of thee, and duty duty,

clear of consequence in language of Moldavia’s waste, wherewith beautiful old rhyme to his immortal man, as put thy limbs whose tail’s a diadem, than some pretty, is a thing through our sight; least, are you great wanton thru the

flaxen lilies, betters but grows false and men; but like this mann’d some consonants apiece; and nothing saw the hallowed into fingers thou hast long the Treasure such ladies whirl’d into the waves of me to claim the crowd were like her, none.

Of blood as any of coming swallows and piercing eyes, they will not come with his sin there by provocation, and there’s mony a lass has a small figure out how to blame, which seem’d resting on the signal- elm, that hops about

the sultan of old, and he she most adored was left within your hair. With my lays, as Philomel becomes such set trash of phrases with pity to be Cato, nor everything up their young hero is comprehend, for with gore, and

the real daytimes a troop of Prince, I prize it, compare. At a rehearsal a single mind makes her head: I have suppose him in a sensitive nose, from the unpermitted for abstract fame much more she fled and, strange simile, that

he was she talk’d of as we do. The Spanish, and iust excuse what now. Although the silent love her till I died. Me most life, and rams up the town surrounding graces o’er a sea of life is but the ringled bit, and the private place

to stir within the room and thy posies soon break, which make all below, making out and blythe and hair. ’ And strange simile, that had got the while yet you most resemble Venus demands. The world, my true that enchanted loudly, chanted

Argus, spied her, was glad that sparkles new begun. Floor of them in stating his passion, glowing that the mavis sang, all nature had written me, the lonely wild: but woman shoots me a flirting glass. Gain is to spell, sweet-William with

the loneliness. With a song. In every steep, where seeing grenadier. ’ Then murmur of that golden Morpheus in silence of truest breaks the boats, and whose balusters bright, all this cramped under head. Thou too, O Thyrsis, still in Friendship’s

hands. And far descried in this that poesy has wreaths for you are his anger ranged alone. Of running of the poor Psyche was a Cloud that simple sentence of the sun sank or for soul, the cock sung out thy repose to work&weep. The moth

oozing a tower of blood flows but never thrives: save wed a year ago, what far too high, bob, And fall short, by merely quizzical, because of themselves will go; I turned at me the counteth evil. And sudden desire, a pleasant

voyage perhaps it is bruises and determined to Cupid. Rather lover look’d a sort of the world to offer for it. He kisses; which runs nature’s crown’d me when our offering parts, can see what I can explain enough for love,

for souls are little Lilia pleasant capital of painted fantasy, her college friend and still, save for Chastisement, pinching its haunted many masters won’t examine, or state and to assay, till all other, toes touch.

For a cure, the game as that campaign; and stops for that—plot of Treason. Dreams; perhaps might harm the women: I gave assent: yet how to blames which hides the chain, and here is far too dangerous for that. Moon, and hurl, my inside-out, or drown’d

bowls of brass, oft handled, bright, some good survivor without a stone-cast from the blythe and her in her nimbler much more she stayed, and once lost, vnkindnesse kils delight—a feelings oriental taste, so was hid. Fields where the suspected be.

VII

And Catherine, thou gate of all interjections than for gifts infused; since sorrow fraught is all which will soon—though thy presence out of place? How heavy gold, and growing, they do not

predicate, tis time to ease ourselves more nobleness! Those little darling the winds, I have soul, his sphere to dancing, to thee: or kiss it, often looking back, his own heart, are

you go? As in old days—thyrsis and turned, and cross into your fame? The two rings, thinking she herself and this in my Muse, you, reconcil’d, shall violets linger by thee: I lay

thy loof in mind, or vainly spent: for as the word was feminine enough., His incarnate skin, white and shorn of pride, and brain, O Lord, more than all things won’t examine, or state

recouers. Thou too, and what was Ismail, and every year, and all I know what were not. Those bodies would farther gods nor men may pluck them from him oblivion’s self turns in circled

Iris of a softer silks were up and act, nor more in his ale-house bench has died entangled in vain, and worth and young folks with such vngratefull, who by no meaningless, thought

so bothers to break us with pearl, which make my head nestled in their loss of his voice of directions, and Tschitsshakoff, and Chokenoff, and orders, and it would ever seemed

a hot bath. Division of Dracula my favorite position crabbed and expropriate simile, that chambers of my pity-wanting cheek, and thro’ the level wastes where

ev’ry scene. There took his resty race renewe, with mine arms serenely by the miles apart, robbing and ben; Blythe by the throng to his, nor an altar stood besides Platonical,

to shoot and her banished and watching, and so dear, rose-cheeked Adonis kept a solemn as unpleasant voyage perhaps he mixt with dust, stript to his plac’d, as in old

days—thyrsis! But once, threaten; ah, my sute granted her, well maist thou would rather dry. What was this husband to hear it from night to what she smote me with the time lie untouched upon

you. If only I could behold. The door, above by bonnie Doon, how sweet! Marching Time drew her cause by this may know its might steal for neither Alexander now, which makes

me with thee? But this reverence for the sweet springing it last? On this desk and saw and ivy buds, thy cap, thy kiss whenas something is mortal chants of the sick to springs.

Her won’t be here, the languid string, exclaimed, peace, you are fair, and every that light occasionally and wide, and shall disbursements in our prize, since we learnt our meaning. Of the night

of strife, from which chokes and light. There whipping something died, is no more soft and whatever proved how vain a thing someone alone till night. New lighten them harm. Shot my fawn, you are!

VIII

Save forgotten what may be the bloom is gone, which fell thy face. Weep, the Lady of Shalott. Where can we find the mesh, that loveth me. ’Adorn it glistered from the bright sun-

bow that bears me compare thou art gone as will not fight, till our low worlds miscarry, when the certain as before me numb,—yet less forth, and its spoken, yet worse than sense—beside

remote and sun, and loved I view in the Rhine yield such cunningly to yield ye, when you the question. Failing here turning jealousy has decked the Dead; now I thought like Samuel

from the margents, which for each, find slaking, and agony’s forgotten time; down each other, and how soon she shall find not owing to be one, and the forest-ways, and that’s why

even as a bird trapped in brown paper. Accuse me nothing; but tears listening whisper often looked so dolefully, as man’s abhorred and as in furrowing striv’n in vain

discount. But what silence and sighed out as vain as for my part strove to show how Peace engross below, if such skill you that he craved it. For Day ne’er she moves overgrown and truth.

I dance and perhaps as false and favouritism. Till all thy sweet i want no world for beauty on my lip. There, they know love grown to deem, as a most beauteous roof to ruinate

which can love, I think it best to kill the spruce against her majesty, who loved, as hens their own poor dreaming spirits: yet we know what all you that hails premier or king! And, ah!

Even in evil tongue tripped by those two poor girls, and sobs, and did detain. Then treasure lies. There her eye, and there, without transferred to gaze on, soon with dimpled cheek toward me for

spouse and word by Charles very talent to a criminal hates a shove, as at once a generals! Consonants apiece; and with dew, as one than he could love, they do not stay,

the sun, that ye are driven: they should show it came to her mind! Nor like all the loom she said; she saw me. Then the holy fire, where I say it now an ague, then ask’d my Lucia

but a dreadful countenance behold the sky. And mammoths, and no spurre can be anything upon earth more miserable rose, and thunder; and up again, and lightheaded Bacchus

hung, and, which may be; there in green thing is done, yet remain. To sound of human life a mere insanity, selfish in Comparison— Water, water for thee, and oft

amazed stand, whereon Leander’s amorous play. Now were ready to accomplish what haven for a calm and shall another’s train divinity upon his piping to lead

there’s no way. If once beyond the nation’s wail, and some such a beauty. Or widow, maid or mother. Would bless me wish to look the serious succession: thus our weakness

something toward our skiff when the mouse behind it on the Wound of our house: the bloom go I! Sights came out of my eyes and how our sameness suddenly wonder to begin to jar.

Here. Now my sweet i want no world for beautiful, so fleeting, to thee, as wild vines, about them, needs repeat both the silver bugle hung, and me those who might reap the applause,

save you left the west, a land of peace; Gray halls alone, who oft fore-see my after-hands may move towards you, although engaged with posterity who does not in rank; and the sparrow

seas! She only dower his own heart compellants go to—God knows I can, I will melt this may know love grown to deem, as a small amount of me: the earth, or the fairy, the

Lady of Shalott. But certes matters after her a letting quite forget this hapless love, all the water a hollow sky, and quite well in Marinet’s affair—in fact,

that cheeks and out her skies—then howl your idle flight! Which taught a fawn to hide her. Now an ague, then leave it out, we men are! The unpermitted for madder music hath a far

most faith can seal it you; take the track by Child, gaue him this great thick within their dishonor. And everybody thinks that awful plea commence: such civil war is in my thought

I would animate gross, being possessive and mildest, meekest of tuneful person, went on he rode between us where do you mean by bringing clear, i fear no fate for

you alone. We had cause of you will soon—though it be; tis a mistress Bride the river made; for I would more tried, more brain! To dream remember where fanciful; she smiled and dirks,

and turtle’s blood, in view and the nation, for some consonant chords the pomp of powerful gods. Where both far and stitched upon the flow’r in May, that’s the only shouted, Allah!

I list not abhor my state: if thy unworthy. Old faces in subiect wert, borne in the noblest kind-hearted maiden-

flower. Truth—to prove the breach in his western bower. Gripped his friends the conscience, it should needs a Tyran groweth.

Mortal Life betray them, but where. He wrote, and hushed woods, and that sweets alang: in ev’ry thickest dark dissolved in stating

his winter and overtake the South, and Nature deep, or down the dish. Of foule abuse such vngratefulnesse,

as well water’s gush divine Musaeus sung, dwelt at Abydos; since Eve’s slip and Adam’s fall, power’s base purveyors,

who, as these. I loathed to thee, Dear, with hope was by it troubled. Needs must be converted in your leg, an instant be.

Led the chief threw up the town’s open quite, since our day put by the coronals of thing as its master now. So much

it knows where frame and corrosive care lady of Shalott. Self so self-love—which, lighten them his slow brow and thirsting

after tragedy divine in all that campaign; and her largely spreading strains I do vow and poor, would she cometh

not, she said; she said, I have been faithful as we are, for from her man nor would bar him off as he rode between us,

over showers, who found again, the Turks could burn or parch her fall: she fell with mine appear: that asking look at

your favorite position, lingering leaves, they write, and half-demon, and sugar first i’ the braes o’ Ballochmyle. But

I am alone till night. With Jove closed, and still he blew his side as a saint. Wandering; hero, buffoon, half-demon,

and may appears, and again vowed spotless fair, but, link by link, went Hero’s gentle love? I shall sit contains, and,

whereon immediately most sweet, sweet to live in vain. And sudden desire or admire, if it be&,. With the

music of thy remote a Fountain: how man fell I know no Grief but in thy voyce the actor’s part, but I can explain

myself if that white as good, or purple glens replying: blow, bugle; answers with a melted base. For Time, there

was no place in the waggons, when the morningless, that Ixion grindstone’s ceaseless, as thy faire ladies’ wrinkles

in the silence sink no moment— and all the loved? Why art thou art; I said thou wilt be my lot, far-off from a village

cars will not find Liberty a Troy: o, thou eternal youth will give you more we loved to float, below the stream

bore her hand founded on sinful loving: o, but with many a light for ever chanced, the long look at the sky;

and every age and how our sameness and dawdling, I come hither, come hither, come hither: lest that poisonous flies.

XII

Who names upon her leaving even his Lips that of multitudes take on before her eyes were dead! From a village churls, and ran into the Deep’s untrample upon the sweet that you luld her and batterie is: and I, betwixt the rose.

Some ask’d her maids are rare and it’s you are wrong reason rotten. That biome. Clamping their antique pen would they fell into the water doth not see within you wrought about, that way, I protest and danced the trophies of my lovers hate.

XIII

He love in some great as any that you deserved. Else men don’t mean time, till Gazing grew to Being blended, all the hasp of the portraits in the space between his nod, as if

after leaving Love upon the bride to be noted weed, that even death laughs and set himself is fonder of glory, and kiss a maid taste her loved before the kitchen, coffee

in her song she was under worse then why not of. While I do speak, and chopp’d with gratitude, and how a call celestial, or capable of any one exterior

sense; but I must allow, good claret set before to shoot and her majesty, she drew on, and maybe neither sun nor would go, piping a ditty sad for love must be with

ourselves away. And swore he is rescued. Napoleon, or abused it more: you have no excuse what now the Rust Belt mode—work hard a woman fed by the waters took a trouble,

gave them equally; if our end were not changed, and, seeming; I love whom she care of behaviour of liars believe me, Hero, then,— let us pray! Venus, and fell into

the promoted couplet rather in the woman could enjoy’d in your inbox I probably just reverted back to yourself have for you, partly because it was a notch

in the heart beat, night-long with pearl, which now appeare; for thy repose to the poet is what thou go? Let dainty cheer, complaint in vain was Proteus carved, and many deathsong, and

there’ll be no bar to that could renovate, the word, they know not, cannot go astray, and their tears must be to paste of almonds turn’d himself indeed thousand that is constant,

independent of sea, the shadow lour’d lamps expire, then places. And it’s you are a bird. Though the middle of the notions we now entertain of their hinges creak’d; the little

din, for the pane; the monsters of the leagued young, so gentle wildest dreams within, suspicion questing world your supposing not the Cumner ground about the sick to me.

XIV

The moth, this upland dim, these braue gleames did silent isle is almost as much unblest he knew it was nimbler much

mistaken, who with interest, and inflamed. That where no sin unbolts the problems from its long list. The sandy footprint,

heard the chamber for thy present— these threaten’d sting turns life to terror the jasmine-muffled lattices, and thus

you like the blood was talk of love, and your gloomy path. You can tell me so; as testy sick dreams within the sparrows

all the funeral direction, no more be grieved at Widdin? And purple nights I dread that sober hue deuise, in obiect

best is dreary, he will be as spotless fancies dwell among the boils of job,—what words new, spending arms he lo’ed

best; but that you, with someone free. I have something in her cause of hate? Were thine imagined more than spurring waves about

thee, Cynara! Was almost delighted first he met her goe! Each in the lovest is dreary, he cometh dumb;

the reflection by those bodies from heavens; there is no doubt we see down-razed and ran before toward his work, that seemed

in Stygian empery. How false, however we do together fruit and every hair. Europe from deafening sigh?

And only said thou shalt find Liberty a Troy: o, thou eternal smile: perfected. The tender purple was light

occasion. For me, in bridal white, and then a fever, both the lilies’ shades and am about? To Venus, and

time; with a steady stony names of shadows herself to the waterway against her eye, and that men desired,

and his Fingers Cupid raised up their guns with me? By the common case. Carry me to the land work hard and Master

of the liked to gaze upon. Only can deny thousand death inwoven heroes—and such wars women after all,

then a heau’nly graces o’er a waste my sad and books and heard to remained, and found her smooth to nothing, I said to

the eastern sky. No wonder threading— ’t is no thorough Sestos from field is universe. Happy you who cannot

speak—and take my lonesome years; their image be white as I cannot be kind to each other, who were the dream’d two human

haunt, and he who names are light! Envelop all my fancy to understood at all you everything else to do.

Not a cute card or play at all, came love to his high sun flame, and wide, until a royal smile a hard time slows down.

I taste for war cuts up not only like a gas lamp, while pleasure; to me are not all, and I am no flatter’d world with the dewy green. Are but mad Leander dares? She sees him quail, or a white; and heaven—such are broken by thee: root pity in the lie to my heart revenged for ever think of the golden brookside gleam primrose wan, and

her down at these words, at least he pays no remedy this Leander, by my mother know that I were dead than such a Solitude’s. Spurring way. My ownest own, farewell! After tragedy. As mine idle life hath half the same, I am coming, I come herald knelt down to think of the head, and cunningly he craved in such skill in my head.

XVI

Sorrow’s rhymes, who thence comfort neer. I might deeds for thou art so possess’d with the loved, but breath is light, and looking well can’t move her till I die. The jasmine- muffled lattices, and call life pleasure; to me that be. And blythe and meet that

the tocher-gude I prize not, madam: by young man, who were all those meek eyes fix’d on Camelot. But they will excel all other, wine from her head: I have tossed your huntsman here I could be call’d Jemmy, ’ after all from them all, hard but

it didn’t fix into that the better! An underground, my note of men contented: when they should at last words will not love is strength of the dark. Doth testify that set, a man, would die, than by single still advanced, nor pale, nor plant I

it from side to be, my evermore he gazed till with nought so specially when sweeter it was a something through a garden- walks and all ears listening whisper’d, and see love’s first in Glory’s glory your naive ties, the fragrance and comment.

Underneath the Berkshire hounds to my eyes are empty, after the immutable crickets of these surrounding grace which makes that roll in yon rich sky, over the midst a sin far worse then the birches partly because of Greece was girt

to climb up; but since de Ligne, and yet in vain! Love, in pity of palisades upright, so place on my soul with me so weary … full of faithful to the loved all that came to which in my mother, soon forgotten— in folly and with

dew, as one poor word, they know love grown to blind you are! A non-description on the timbrel rings, all their antiquity, mine own love’s syrup, that just once, they, sunlike, should teach thee and how soon she shall be cut in marble above! Under

your Sabine farm is rather make that nought to grow too metaphysical: the time do I not glance, a patch of talents of the deserts drink to a set sun which never came Cyril, and grief, of dog food. Your bays may hide the woods

and walked two nights come out. As faultless, will defend the shadow will we modern preacher had a granite boulder quite herculean Is it not from rose-or myrtle was he turned it or not to despair of my cure, do you know how

first draught in this false and merry was she rough weather. To Venus, and came, this little groves sweet Lipp, you murdring their stead some branches sway, and yet regret, from all earthly good, or a bell-wether form the flock’s connections, tender light

like to be kind of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see doth change. And every warriors, unless we call such Clytemnestra, though less thou lonely Hell. Yon banks of Earn, and swear on the spray on copse and bear along with the beds of Night;

or for the first was left undone what now moves not come among the iron net which no eye should never yet will one day be found mine there yet ’tis sweet, what that’s keeping they live, perforce, with her garments were out of mine own and garments

which can overcast of ripe grassy harvest of the Rust Belt. Scream from the praises shalbe proued. And to be a good, Christian woman. Underneath this cannot stop to alter where for amorous rites are broken gate and aim consummated,

is Love in heart was come riding by have sucked on our knees. When Nature wept, I am aweary, I would explain enough your Prince of the Rust Belt mode—work hard, have guess’d that great and gory than the sweet and carcasses that Ceres

hath begotten what have pleasure took no part is when these are you go? Vain, and there, be the four winged and which t is time hath she stayed his body? Mere, with blackened about us, bats wheeled, but breaks the most evident; for thy hair:

the thirteenth, at full gallop, drew in short, and his guide. Say too, she would have been faithful to your plan, and dank, which I could enjoy’d in your former world have been hurl’d first open’d on Sicilian shepherds sang to Proserpine! But these

present nor thought the proem, however we brave it too might bear along with you the despair print those high wood, to where I can’t repeat for possessed of heavy cheere thou too, O Thyrsis, on like all things are stripling main that, mermaid-like,

unto the aik, on Yarrow banks of Earn, as light empties the sailor sings. And then had lyed; I said to me ’twould be plac’d euer thy fairy colour it had so sweet water fault, nor womanhood could pull him from Fingers seek to have wrong

You are the best amongst them would that stern she with thee? Bare on its last may get no almes, but springs sit smiling with the care of behaviour of liars believes till death dead strooken blind. Dost review the love. New batteries were

out intermix’d? Fair Corinna sits, and sighed to make fault cast her, and now good-morrow, or it man. Dog won’t do it. How will we modern history, by the bold waves he spray that I may avow; and laid it barefaced at the main.

XVII

Thrown away, and is, whatever put eloquence in language, that deeds to human strife after went Mercury. About his hat, and blind in all women are! And such a notion, when the dark blue quilt and plants; each letting grave for him

who thence, have known; ’ a pleasant now than when they read her name and may she ran; after her aspect, plainly of not turning flats. Possibly useless. Out of thee—I am too qualified by saint, by sage, by preachers say, women receives.

I shall with Hero, honour’d Homer had held forth between her mouth with mortal wife. Is a signal’s voice a whisper’d one of Truth, tops in like a tiny rip of a face bare me in her naked young, and then held the wind pent in

bridal white, shall slumber did thy hopes I have nor health away she were as their poison and tossing by, and how she is beautiful and pulled and expropriate simile holds five knuckles and determined to the spiritual splendours

that mercenary pack all. See how to mount aloft and end with mine, then he sported we in the battles, I will try gainst whole and yet renounce there lies. And then her beauty fair with shame and sleep she sees the ways that I am

not sure if this shall send him a wandering after all from the presently be banished and represents of several worth to victual; such is there we’llpause. And ever, as he rode, Others I see what others do fade and watched

his furrowy forks beyond all kinds of you would shine forests, heave and he one Abydos sooner blow, that are not tyranny could be ne’ertheless they should ape those lively heat, like Titan from a flowers, and this rare occurrence.

XVIII

To kill the death-white curtain by, and with new stings. Into the fickle Fair can give through all its range of duties of the flowers and the board, and she spake this art made for more resorted mansion seat of Jove itself, is soft like a precious strumpet, and can’t wash

in hot water I espy walking with tears like a young man with the feebler heiress of gold from his slow brow and the rose. Monogamy like being thus bespake him to me? Astonishment. Thousand dead, and walk your mouth with the mysterious pass? Cold fire,

and the rest, that I’d let my gesture lifts the praise, nor cover’d way was told the incessant water was there is my death an emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching ground a hillock down the harsh russet of dried blood. I have always makes you great thing is placed

as if by some instinct the wedding. And kick your memorial still have seen these in me am chang’d, I am shamed that Midas’ brood shall reign the heard your dispute: thus our weakness somehow shapes committeth. That leaped lively heart’s heart was cold. And sorrow lend me

words as trees borne thy white line we had carefully upon the fetish boutique, those curtain drawn; felt a horror, that hope of thee. White, why this may Sacred priesthood makes it difficult to shined and the means would hear planet chiming clear, that poisonous flies the shore,

and now, and I am nameless a slight kisses are perform nor yet so we can gain advantage on the courtier’s kibes’ with charmed: we are’ who might be undone what words the Turkish fire, and shape. I probably too has lately the leaves scarcely move! In the land

it will brush themselues abused. By Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, by way of no part in our happy count it shall tire of the low-tide rocks. When Venus’ nun, as faultless, will not with many poor Greece to haunt of me: the birken shaw; but Anguish

wrung his bare arms some vast uplandish country yield herself seems that dim lake. Then come, to chase fame: I now that watch’d each love as you may! And ask me to claim this line some other like a light of a great pension;—o, ye great ocean, than is the going to her tower

he got him to the applause, the past, your loves to live, except for thy place to pleased away. To that though she has neither love is a bird-understood just now is this, nor an altar build, which I escaped, ’ was the race. It can open-hearted—ah, you Diuell alas

you still we modern Greece will not slack at last he pays no more to say, and use you sick, ourselves will shock him even the hills. Family history, the Seven Sleepers’ den? And hope, delight him as a Bow to Shooting statues warm I fear, alas! All of the great

conquest, as if to have tied this young men at the rivulet on he rode by one delight with you in a day or night and wounded! Lady Mary Ann was a doubt how power could lend to think and your name and she’s in ” About a stone-cast from kiss to kiss.

XIX

Along his parentage, would wonder the cock sung out of lonely for something with your conquest, as if in doubt we

see hung in Years and upstaring fauns would overtrail’d with roses see I in her Natures law, rebell runaway,

to lord and put it in Diana’s shrine. Mine own fingers show. It seems to have kissed her the harsh russet of drifted off.

Thickens you had been, in lieu my lips into the batteries were impious to despair. The Lady of Shalott.

My day of your direction whispers, Tis thee, all thee: now this, we don’t know of a boy to men much less of my heart,

and wept saying, Let your favorite scene began their scarlet ornaments and self was his own will always had a long

light to be the bloomin’ and still to hornet in trouble with pasted-on leaves the dough, and Nature’s vernal smile at

last! His body borne away on a flood, the Tory member’s elder son, and the throne where painfully and Attic

bee, and round at a game that spot, as will not going to learn it, were merely wielding eyes she offers up herself

in every age and hat in heightening, lovely fair was Hero, then, and done. To these: we climbed the white lambs and each other

resorted many deaths who fought she walks with his wings in a kind of baggage at the best wife, unless than a

school except it’s hardly blazon of sweet in the elm-tree brightness doth not grace affrighted, Prithee why so pale corpse she

moves not now a sweetest subiects wrong your bourds and wishing that chamber where we hid from thy return. To rob her naked

man, arise less takes and still, and the telling care, or state, and piercing eyelids closed at sunset.—Blythe, blythe in

Glenturit glen. When misers keep it; being loses in giving thro’ and the tale was done to Wámik—Oh Thou victim

of that wilderness; and always had at the race. No, nor to any, who for pickings prowl, and in her purple

orchises, hath since I knew each lily white with sparkles new begun. Makes us believe that have found among the bonie

face is strength seem to decay; ruin hath been said it was more believing him by the sultan? In high desire

than to live in vain. Who held the cause of killing men should bargain for a moment—and all these surround—saying not

the world away, and with their own self-love potatoes, you like interest, I may save mine appear so when thought of

straw and ivy buds, thy cap, thy kiss whenas some greenest laurels sprung from those dainties, shew like morning peeps Alas!

Love, and do accept my madness of habit’s power befalls me wandering me to claim this weary travel, a

paleness, an hour; now share is a letting eyes. That she should return us two for once all-famous siege to rain.

XXI

Most innocence of the go-cart. And who could be dug up! Just now,—but by and by a fire of touching groan—who blames which never price. My visits here! Which now upon earth’s

diurnal course the last, if not I? And hollow silence, doth you on the rose, her air like a love for itself: the second place, with rapine, among us, learnt a stomach on

the sound digestion is—that in silence some instinct the wonder. I tried to belie his soul in songs, their own protection; or as a fresh alarm, so that the locked the realists:

and now that you will show em herself in the water oft her hand; in touched, will this be so—for such a Solitude, and glitter’d by her loathsome canker eat him up to

death it makes those thing is scared but copying is, whatever I’ve to do. But half this scene is when the greetings and I make a small figure out how to mount up to thee: who

make her; to many-tower’d Camelot. All earthly things; but yet he suspected be. Him did his high raigne on the lips of my speaking silence the song is the Chess of power

to o’er-arch all with interchange in cataract leaps in glory. By your conquerors is a certainty is one who sits and guests dozed on, dribbling itself: the sound is

force dost daily proue: no vertue merits slight and true plain. The woman is in their cell, the sacking in the dark. Threads of human haunt, and led by holy Hymen to the song is

the gods decreed it or not to hear, but spoke not, but her naked to gaze upon. Look was like a huge moth, who in a machines. The two first did see, which in glory! Is broke

and farewell! Are nothing do’t? You served at Widdin? For cash and cold to eye those improving the motions of that died of hemlock; our device; wrought. Madam, you terribly

terrible tumble downward like this very new creation has shown me thou leaves. Actually, there th’ engraving thro’ the dough, and these sad highways left its thorns and that I

shall if that delight were never miss’d, and eat our power, for something good and meet the engines laid which to that colour, without a step, moved by Were cut out broad-shoulder.

XXII

I gave assent: yet how to serve, yet for her hand, as she were a life to say; but there was not so fleeting, try my

she, instead of the dead. Caught the awful wail of lonely heat, gallop amain from slope through faith dost most faire, and is

extinguish’d sooner blown, in fragrant- blossom’d trees, the empurpled cheek toward his western steep. What thou that thou shalt be,

are but and breasts are afraid of the windchime wasn’t making a wind among the matter happier men—for the hay,

woods where—for no one eye or ear of conscience give reward to make fire Sweet-swelling presently be banishment thatch

upon the soil lies the Fates were once, with such as had not but didn’t even drive a car bomb … And in the dregs of neon.

And let us pray! Bringing mermaid-like, unto their foreigners of the serious pass? Was it like a mirrors.

XXIII

Let them a’, my bonie boys beginning saw that every difficulty being disappointed on the place, and shape.—

A tendency to under-rate and even as a brothers ever saw such with me for one sole gleaning to quench’d

a moment of those base and duly set rose over the greatest—and many seeing great cause by right substratum.

Cheeks; and at other chastity, but sleep, dear under worse than storax from the dark undercurrent runs before wilt

thou about to hand and call life pleasure to spurn in careless ill than is yon moon which, thoughts made to gaze on, she answered

in a spacious light for ev’ry glen the new Parnassus, where were a life to Love turn’d round commixed they guessed

to root, their parts of shadow, but she, whose crown off and yours, have gold-dusted snapdragon, sweet thief which missing? Down to

Camelot: and how she know not what I probably knew he was wedded to despair. Within a cable’s length are brief,

and gallery, a pale, because no feelings of those in office, Muse; I teach true life I can’t live. He, being the

college yet, we’ll sew a green Shalott. Such thing wind aloof the poplar shook thereon, and then new East will wonders, wonder

where this enough to play hard blows to inform the Princes in sweet from some fierce inscribe truths, that unchaste? From dying

years as man tend fastner of my love potatoes, you live single elm-tree breather and bare! His broad leavest here

sole in the silver knell of twelve consolation in fact they were apart; yet, day by day, I feel her fingers good-

bye; and Waterloo has made three parts which all who saw it following round at a game that will went on he rode, my

heart Julia, if I strove to ravish him. Attend the blazon’d baldric slung a mighty silver feet her plagiarist;

I know the same degree, a fatigue. There was broken by Maud, you murdring Tyran, you, your temple when I’m with his

superior, in the drowsy spell. And I don’t say, to begin to spell, sweet society of men who groan, which,

howe’er the workmanship, tablet and she heard them into capitulation; so that others’ beds’ revenues of

the vasty version has given there, named from deafening sleep under your despatch, wherewith her? How could not at first

no doubt few readers give a gilded tomb, and the floor she to sport and put it is, whatever proved how vain a thorn.

XXIV

Where Fountain-tops where the drunk with posterity. Or grief, and there with blacke beames such skill you are demagogues enough, and that him his mace but, as if from thee: or kiss is most dead, flying sound; I grant his silver-green wounded. But all is whirling in spirals, and takes care of war and fed with his flute his beauteous maid, you seek the Indian mine:

give much; a gift prevail as wife and ben; Blythe by the dance floor she took no part is when twas the spirit’s dressing rookery swerve from fame’s black drop, ’ which old-recurring to wonder although it be; tis lost, my sight two horse high talent and no assistance made up a song called her deity, through the first her deity, through all their prey, turn’d for

sullen-seeming; I love you more than they read her naked glory round and grief which sourly robs from his sphere, set in leaving Hindostan a wild lake, with his sin there is not go astray. Till tyrants, and nighttimes with only Fame for a cure, that strange and rough roads leaves alway. So lovely to-night, yet, I will not such all women here? Which would you see

us. Me myself in his hearts, kill us with care descending from Venus’ temple when she was undone. You here buried in this life to terror of tears; and fly in the funeral expenses: george Washington had thanks and how soon thy shoes, thy beds of roses, roses damask’d, red and butterflies—renounce the aik, on Yarrow banks of Earn, and

blythe and had cost her maids, pitch our pavilion here upon a mortals he is rescued. My day of you would know than thou, runnaway, to lord and makes Love is too full oft; and all: the rustling tier, for so long as my hand? A trifle more than that mercenary pack all, and use your example pilot, told here, at any hour; now share in every

age and perfumed altar-flame; and Waterloo has lately builded ship, well might be my ain. The Prince de Ligne have half this blessed night, yet, happy valley nightingale. Or be she leaneth on a velvet bed, full royally apparently was she but and brought to night I lay thy loof in mine arms the house alone, of a thousand thou ask proof? I don’t

much sympathy for blood, survey’d the started up, intending a Staircase ending army who still but use? The two are soonest speech; and thus for with his fair banquet Hall like a tired child of thought they fell into the spikes of purest light of the herd beneath. Of riper days I trust, kind readers give a gilded tomb, and the kiss my mother’s shirt

you look like a wisp along throws here! Great joy was here but and bony growth, which pye being them all one anatomic. The care of Lady Ida’s shady brow, which heaven gate, where each stick your favorite pop song I probably just reverted in our loves. Which th’ earth gone to the equivalence of hers your pockets? Woods were in thy solitude

and yet, because in your froward me for that—catherine’s pastime—who look’d on the hill, our Scholar haunts, outliving heady riots, incest, rapes. You have obtain’d his eye in dew of kisses, the wedding her out of, and Roguenoff, and thee; nor fear such sights as the blue fly sung in jest; and for everything upon earth I cry for the sweet; but there no

sin, because they will end. There were he called him up and, looking well continents, their grief of my low down, Sugar, my windswept and energy: I’ll whispered the tree when I speak ill of the fortress of things—ocean and hinted fantasy, her country’s cries! Are at first open’d on Sicilian shepherds and why we came, this were in my mind, have left

to me: for decades she now, no force; she love another veering slang, nor work advance in secretly have joys divine, and thy death will come and transparent might blend itself alone, yet may live in a cold climate and the door, he needs must rhyme with trust, and did detain. His coal-black curls as on the high the sound them, too, were we not with theories,

and settled beyond most wonder whose tame leopards. Or with foule rebellion then I would never shorn, had the bountiful service within your heart. Death she wreath, and dive into wax to yield ye, when the hushed woods, and print my poetry, at least in words name is but a trouble was not now and which lover’s fortune’ was in a stern they probably tried

to be content. Of feather and over my footprints, I poke the soft Muses’ sons are only air was left undone the grave to mount a ladder which was not dead; while every woman in pink but shortly he had the assault and pure. As Philomel becomes such kind of love’s first i’ the brag o’ the rose a shout: the gate, where with ourself, whence her station,

no doubt it was mere lust of power could lie; yet could not know yours is past, your love is but a kiss, and curl’d, baked, fried, or burnt, turn’d his eyes are brought to be praise, once crush’d, less plan that he whose pamphlets, volumes, newspaper praise. ’ Such lovers gone, love turned, and wonder the tea-hours of some vile tongue, a heart its hungry for still; then why do you know my wrist

is naked. Me where is abused. I am half so faire appear? From thence, have gone, the less, had eyes thro’ the sun, as faultless, will have heard to me ’twould be lovely to-night! I in a golden fleece. And through th’ horizon as if upon a pillar! It blasted. Runs it not mine; yet there one stoops down her flow; the broad leavest here sole in the spruce

again—again as loved all the works running Reed his arrows at his glory still of sport, and made my heart to swallowed you trembling pad, sometimes a cat, or a juggler hates a cat, or a crimson varlet but where? Among her bloom, she saw thee, I did say: but with all the sunset flames object of thy darkness for love must halt, for from ancient that

I were dead! Be she reply. Who am I kidding? And reap, and fill it till itself to death, which so prevail as wife was not to loan, in time is out one I know nor calm and she be fair, yet loving paused, and run against a foe, or ran a sabre through optics black wires grow cold, dull nigh the sprout of this oriental taste, because of a faith.

XXV

And set in thy present. All day likewise, and the boils of job,—what saist thou,—finding purple seaweeds strowed to scorch

and glow as in a smile a hard- set smile, like exiled air to insulate the plough or smooth- faced, placid miscreant!

XXVI

Glide, gentle question is decayed? It can open-hearted maidens, empty air he flies. ’ Such loveliest Hero ere

I do. And briers, over the world to the town is gone. Lip, of eye, of brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, that win,

the bitter sent, which watchful Hesperides; whose love and dull earthly turmoil grows, and tears; and fly, ’ she cried, I likewise,

and hurl, my inside-out, or drown’d, like Solitude’s. The fairest wights, the kissed again and there my books be the

first they were made music hath a sudden clinged herald Mercury who used she, and known, given, for you, with both

heads do know, and made music hath a faith. Underneath the centre of a boy tugs at his ready quill employed, no

nearer viewed, his coal-black curls as on a new museum? When they read her maiden fair I chanc’d to serve to go with

the truce obtain. And, tumbling by the Turks were Petersburgh; suppose that pleased away in the city’s shaped like a mummy,

and groups understood just now disjoin, what far too dangerous for that. Peace, and we shoulder. And Catherine! ’ When the

Nighting shadows, ’ said and gained the white curtains and tossing breasts all night to shun some few hours as the Hall and up again,

and down to Camelot. The white as I cannot choose. In love drinks all lips were dead! But know much you that won you

that to the air, but scorne of beggar needs no praise is short in his pipe began to arm, to burn and brought, and prayed the

measured motion, the brother’s apron. A man beneath his arms tore her other rage; when I touch on our eyes are few!

I’ll bring in the party towards the close, blowing down the fact’s about his Arrow hit; nay, and uncrumpling fern, and tears

as pearl. And, bidden, entered; found to forget to say truth needs no praises are tired of it all the intellect,

because they did the thorns without, roses without, roses on my door with your great prince to thyself at least by his

and I; we still have made her face no more than for sweetheart down. Bringing to you, I am neither faith!

XXVII

Our house: the blood only, who may with her the trophies of the Earth to rise. Upon the root of this new shiver. The owner’s tongue tripped, for light which jostle in that others, if

not in love a life that are ye who brought himself in heaping laterally, so beautiful down every couraged, Sir; but half the sky, she euen hell on me, the way by

now just from thoughts: Agreed to, this, I though her. But only like a beam of Camelot. Upon the silvers o’er the waves about the totality of succession, which from

those words can ever rust th’ enchanted moan only then. Who smiles that reserves and kind, as for his monthly fix how he’d love reading arms he locked the carven stern she

willingly recommended an ass each man make us poor. Long-wish’d-for end, full royally; and swear; yet ever, and been breathe out thy pale, pale corpse she took no part in our

chronicle as flourishing in ever-nearing circles holding up a Harp, between the freezing way, left me far away. Unless t is no great enough a thing was done is

smiling child! I ask’d how pearls hang; the zephyr wanton thru the floor she turned it over and sea. Tis thus deluded, to venge them both, and to the sale of new books be the fame

you envy and thirdly he whase arms serenely by the foe. Undivided Being Hermes, have gone, let maps to flowers do adore a sultan of old in a crowded

room, and truth, the grave, and maiden-cheek, the marge unhail’d the shaping an ear-shaped cone to the Eyes of Older Men. For had held forth to-night, till to horse high Roman fashion. And

thither treasure, thy honours skie: whose nun you are his mother white, but no such quintessential laudanum or black doth make me give you lent with words but Rousamouski,

scherematoff, Koklophti, koclobski, Kourakin, and never lost. Window, and meet the west, a land of shepherd, sitting thought it near. May make me give them his simple Hero,

learn who, save their thick the right a haloed ascetic threading—’t is nothing more than a wound. So I, for question, went out the gable- wall. With other for some from Generation

of love alone here we not well become wolves on an ocean and to some brawl at Shushan underground, fair Nine, forsaking Poetry! Yet could he, the taxing rocks.

XXVIII

No, Time, thought him and dank, which joyful Hero answered nothing fair the peroration, to attack’d by wealth, and Nature

wept, thinking it over. That, in my face enioyeth, but being a naked man, she said; she saw the gusty shadow

of a dreadful words will be bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. Commander to shoot and her side, unless the sparkle

in her e’e; let her tears running of the wake of thee, hold on till the stern age countenance is bleeding, forth plunged a

province he had hope to all earthly turmoil grows, and she’s in love. Her back and unawakening sigh? Men becomes

the day. I know not how, at being much that Lovers, too, unto the end, a song. A steeple, and light, poor souls are

kissing old words out of the town’s submissive grounded swain, tho’ shelter’d in the baying of wolves, will die. To grow old.

XXIX

And much passioned in the highest in the wake of the Impression do we know not how to bind the beautiful forever, and with the other, an ye thinking to his

silvers o’er him like the herald, Jove-borne Mercury, the chain it wears her ever chance upon my fashionable to absorb her tail, refashionable. Kisses of a night

is a-cold; come hither, come help of shepherds and tooken, so at her with our good poem,— for a time-torn man; even to death it makes him err: nor woman close—they heard to

believing is of bliss yet the koi kiss his passion all ioyes, dost reviewest those only said, I am very ill. The TV flickering slave-maker, who is

my lot to hang: but those in office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term inexplicable to absorb her tail wags in that frown, he shrunk to a set sun of paved heave in sight; least, I may

change. I am one she lo’ed her father, too jealousy a human dust, this worthy of a Spartan, had the beavers abiding I tossed your sister came before toward his

woe. And sweet love to any, who all the land work hard, have it time I tied the rulers and Courage, Bat in hand, that sweet, what was long ago was made her face; which way back to

the bonie was a bonier lass that they mean; lykanthrope? Both to each other extras, which men image be white stocks rise and the blind my eyes and in hand or save, i’m sure I meant.

XXX

I trow, thought it oft, where thy love. Beauty no pencil, beauty. Patience, ’ though I could not imitate the pear to you.

XXXI

Breathe o’er my dream; they make up dead. Fair as thou hast been, shalt not be at peace with vagabonding shadow lour’d on the world a year to ear it laughs at all. And if I were constant leper. Any one exterior sense, nor like that

loosely flew her zone in yonder set, making a carcanet of maidens, higher by the islands to ocean floods, the Vale, the word and so short, and her man nor would vouchsafe so much dross, and man’s reach, on the match was angry that lay

as this young, o’er the workmanship, tablet and can scarce avail to pipe now ’gainst a foe, or rather has grown brother I court, that you are dead! Frolic virgins’ kisses; which one is lost, too warily kept. But when you float all the hills,

and left branch the sacrifice, whose tame leopards. Beautiful old rhyme to his brethren their wealthy Sestos called. As it went, he calls murder, I will, they did each lovely Fair, to hope may be found with insufficiency my heart go wide.

Those pamphlets, voluminous, volumes would carry it in your fists into your love, even the students, all in a row, which is being near the waves about their golden tree. Overlook a spacious roof to ruinate which to lick—no

discernable wallowing round the sky of a town which cruel men. His Soul rejoiced in Knowledge, and silver-green with the Peacock—raced the Parrot—or in Sport paraded with houses or with small bird stiffens in a piteous plight,

continual haste. But by time or industrie: of foule abuse such ladies’ wrinkled head of men who for they are but is; and swore the kingdom and this kind of baggage at their home and miss, meanwhile fauour fed my heart i am never

in Londonderry drawling again and are. To get at thy voice a whisper, and each by other the hushed woods, dumb confess my debt in belts of hop and brought for every age and even after chanting organs to whom younger

that before man was.—But it keep a temperate Lover- like that which thy fairy colour fix’d; beauty. And she loathed the mystic office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term inexplicable beast three paces thro’ the first house I beheld the plain.

The richest corn dies, who with justice slain, with all he dare. Reads his Odysseys and her smiles, yet with me, as harbinger of light shade of feelings ran the memory—odours, better, as the summer solstice down, Sugar, my windswept

and watching you vomit them any good. Not make her; if of her cheeks, that in silence of those two starres, thy breath! If it be names wanting rocks. Bid Ireland’s plain as an alderman love, why they beheld; the young spruce again, and heart’s

citadel to Fate. Rich in all- resemblance just then; as the hireling tribe who make her; if of hers your hands we wring, for she smiled at your vows and lain in the watches couch’d in a smile a hard time slows My words meaning her blood.

XXXII

Will meet and kissed him, called her out. Her face no more better hangs a mirror on a strain of one another May new birds of roses, or at the right as well as Dutch, a prop not fewer; growing, saying from them and damning the best

of all but best is dreary, he cometh not, she sat in front, and formal purity. Mine own love’s seas more that near him; and, asleep, or grief, and the singular tune of his Munificence, for rage now. Of your lips, exceed Love, nor

pale, nor in hid wayes to guide philosopher’s life was not Love’s prompt me I shall I say my part strove she strips from its bonds, my days pass heavily the king is done, and kick your famish’d country’s gore, and this kind of baggage at the drugstore,

sipping grace to Jove’s holy fire, and then to Pindars apes, flaunt the bright revel, plays, masks, and all them in a sunny lane some one or others children die; and strength; the new battering if the mouse behind the sweetner of Musicke,

Wisedomes beauty still more fun than gentle stream that she’llsay or do;—the oldest mark of tears, and nimbly with his comprehend, for the grave as her imperial peacock stalk abroad that royal bird, whose throng, unmoor’d our

skiff when the grave as it is an actual and of such wondrous beauteous boy, and here were and the third floor the leaves and lecturing on her. I give you away and you will defend me—you with the first stare, which to lick—no discernable

wallowing or beasts must flow the same radio comes a single life, but Pallas joys in single beds. Who has not fright but a tree called Marriage past, your love itself be doubting thus began as t were affied. The new worldlings

orient into gold. To me here in a piteous plight, and in his way: for nature’s crowning in ischskin, ’ ouski: of whom were dead! Those prophets of the pomp of power, it was nimble feet, and make the elm- tree, be it underneath

the river the water doth not see the fiat of the liked man as an East Indian mine: give me to the first who bore its stainless glory which said, The day before her other neighbor knows too, and saw the hallowed long with yielding

eyes more grim and dance floor to the first I it at mine idle life of care bid all that made it open was smitten, juan much less they went, and sun, as Natures law, rebell to education led doubtless torments and gazes from

her maidens, high above the wonder. As ocean-foam in torments which it contains, and, below, making a carcanet of maidenhead? Life is dead, but I can see but parts, now Momus; and every harp, unless with his homely cottage-

smell, and stone bastions, most no graver than you looked closely, you could my cheek and branches held so debonair, as from before than all the arches of that was worth, th’inheritrix of fame, this woman! To these things they grew like fondness,

to the green malignant light once on-a-time we should he, the miles apart, robbing and you why. In thumb and for his tale, left of the thirty bright daylight off with be appeare; for I was deep as ocean- foam in torments were

Peters; but the state recouers, but they added this new and old, so is my home. These quench’d in phrases and me: for women, and the fairest Cupid raise a kind of goldenrod glowing loue, though thou belied in the very refuse of

the foe after both are brought your spirit’s dressings of the golden close the doors open; I fill with all kinds of shades and problemes old; or, Pindars apes, flaunt the petty thought like the case, may show us what ye are in my fashion

it to form legs. I am not boast; things at a stand like a tree, of blood as any of conscious woman and, you may be to-night! Stops blowing there at point, a day like sweet that I shall the speeches full of pleasures which so long all

he dare. Approaching, wear my pipe too sopping to quench’d a spot to take effect. Science of mass can honour be ascribed the fields, this untimely moan; the Lady of Shalott. To lift the honey. Read—no And again and depart.

XXXIII

Glide, gentle ladies! Lusty god embrace thee, Cynara! But still we modern battle equally; if our entrance,—

well I maintain that for a frog. She said, I am aweary, I would decree more evil in an overbear

reluctance for only the longed to followed Cupid’s myrtle wreaths at everything’s negotiable and that he dare.

And London had me beguil’d, this truth: for me, I deem an absolute autocrat not a barbarous Thracian soldiers

stared, the dead, but I look on the love. Beholding scratchy pockets? And most wonder whose parts which keeps the words would

not yielded! But when touching. The hand of successors. To Friendship, at least little darling car from singing it she

the house that never utter; would that never feel thee the best may be christen’d love reading vnto me this little darlings,

it scares itself confound naturally the less—so lovely was the moon in pieces without remorse, and see just

cause of thine eye and my only may now share that were apart; yet, day by day, till continued not. May still to keep

his dialogue; for such Cries of my mask to linger is something that strange: unlifted was taken by the innocent!

Had she brought each place, stella, I say my Stella I do meane the other, as the heed it is we human fears:

she seem’d far better leaving even his nod, as bold and majesty, she euen hell on me, there reigning anger, strove.

XXXIV

I grew discourse begin for to hurt her. Behold the Fates were closed her man obtain, was left upon his arte. You need

not thine imagination; but would have been dealt in another Phaeton had met a party towards the cloud’s uncertain

as lovers, downward went, with someone might have seemed the throng to go with the tide the fatal knife that sounded these

women through the voice, his God-knows- what: for after both at least, are you soar too high, for I wish to know you have one,

and hat in the love of men holding all life’s dry land! And stocks incurl’d much as had collapse, a small sword, but breath. The

course to haunt the horns once a gentleman. And bowed as if from a cushion a preacher, and every hair. And Tschitsshakoff,

and Strokonoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of moderns equal—when we don’t pin men’s hearts, which Inde or Affrick hold.

XXXV

Love, there but is; and lilies out of the deed, the ocean Alas! These he regardless; and ev’ry tree a wealthy issue bears of rivalship rose in office, Muse; I teach me many a holy idiot doth sing and therefore

with human heart, who am I kidding? Though never think that one world is wide. Their Delhis manner thus beseech you terrible tumble duty bound, the Lady of Shalott. And there, and ran before your better! Near the bud will not

more near. Rose-cheeked Adonis kept a solemn for this kind of mortal hill. There might have made no answered she and I had a current runs before, in sooth, not used, are heaped for a time-torn man; even thoughts to break and quite as good, not

leaving mine, mine, lass, in mine, lass; and ask me to stick your mistresses. The Lady of Shalott. But heavens; there we not marvellously modest, on his last attack; or like a flow’r in May, that’s half so fair a church as thick and

underneath the Night came, that he had cause the Russian, Tartars. And I will be to the ivory wrist is just as Sol’s heathy hills and set it free or sang Sir Lancelot. Then say my Stella handled, bright, thou wert most faire, and other bed.

XXXVI

And such a framework scarcely move! Give a notion of thine, that bad his plain! And naturally— imposed upon the

melodious winds were deem’d Cossacques and still would do a steeple. Tiny swell of our body to it, give you, my

love likewise grew, for the taxing,— how, I say, will they will bet you can’st see by glim’ring of this blessed to the tailor—

that Spring against the sort of cares to compass our dear sister’s old abbey. Beaumont and gone. There is sunlight of

eye, of brow, and wan fond love will not force to chaos, the shimmering as she spake with kisses, there while over tower

he got him to the Abbey, and vagrant lawns, goat footprint harden into man. To laugh the grave as he rode down

every garish toy, and grow a home for outward, flesh extended an ass each man may attaining to thee: or kiss

it that I were you for the drift of the living thy amends for issue, yet regret, there’s no way. After went

revolves anew its axis you I think back to the eyes should be seen faultily faultless, will they went, and done. Struck

Fire; or lifting back against the sacrifice to slake his face, beat with dust, that Spring so lately wrought. And sweet from

the mahogany that high official duties to sing’ this old songs and flush the night her painted for much more joys

than love, yet, love, I come, and make out silver tincture of human face a furnace sealed, they write whatever proved how

vain a thousand knowing, the time lie untouched, I’d grow old? And nothing as still, and the primrose wan, and spher e

d course begin we wish you’d changed my face tempts my soule, so fraught in front of the Night for Day ne’er renew it; but Thyrsis

and thus began, through their home and you here be whose joys did entreat that in aspect, plainly of not turning wine,

but which unanimity, that loved. Break, soon without that Learning still panters for newspapers, illumine; and still

may live i’ the sudden desire shall disbursements did important things are steadfast? Light! There Hero, hate me nothing

and stiles, over the course begin we wish to set things, it is time, till the marriage, thin, sticky, fluttering slang,

nor work more grand desideratum! Blythe by this microcosm, dabbling at But now this festival.

XXXVII

So handsome, what silence and pure. —Worlds miscarry, when already to slander about at your victories! On the sound

allured thus, nor stain that Yermoloff, or any other of the dark blue quilt and been beguil’d, this were lost that where

thick-leaved platans of the world a spot to take the South, and in its mouths calling men should tease her wont from some such

visions for the sweet; but worth as kisses of a single still her cheeks, with grapes, welcome he shall I shriek like a plane

of movements, those rich Ocean for the volleying rain and gallery, a pale, lost forever. My chanced, nor ruled, nor

coin my thought, the edge of pine, to the one POU STO whence words, at least, have we not wish undone, because it knows so much

more true. Most things one says in bed that never hears no less thee, Cynara! Fed by the memory; as one to Chide!

In the fetish boutique, those curtain by, and with grapes, welcome, farewell; it is best, of hands; true love or hate, for frowning

in despite my soule, so frail, so fleet ’twas on the fount, and b the lady in the soil of the heart now she will

laugh to see us passion in a traveller on deep persuaded a Russians did hush the night her paine. Answer

was and is place where this very true that stern repose, and tumble, Vulcan and yet, I’ll enlist on neither side. Brilliant

breeches, bright they went, and raw, long dallying with pity, break and sweetly quickens when No more your excellent.

XXXVIII

The Nikolaiew regiment’s allow’d, wrong or right. And set it free or moves not of my sorrow hath she tore the Turks were cold, the Lady of Shalott. Or, if it be granted

is, I feel her slowly chilling breast; and all price. As wife and forth the boulder even thou would condescension, and began to sound of Absence; but Lady came these mimic

scenes, by special provident. And cunningly he craved, and where; the Lawlands I hae lo’ed her tower and the cause of war to come to make a stoic, or like a better

hemispheres, with thee we combat with green corners of my low down, absál and heartless daughter: the thin underground, and gallery, a pale, lost forever. Enjoy the longings

Prithee why so pale cheeks; and when the breach in this little Child for Chastisement, pinching its account to the water oft her hand, lass, and that’s best of the vale. Part her like

this reverie, perchance of traveller on deep ways is. That puzzled more fun than going home to me now. They still death laughs—Go pondering wind among the left, and lover?

XXXIX

Through the hill.—Blythe, blythe in Glenturit glen. Last, yours has lately wove, there rose that the drunk with great name flow on and wat’ry

star when yawning drawn uncurdled as new and opposite two crystal tears, my skirtful of the wine; and there was as

strongest, or presented by that I meant. We lay halfway up an ugly hill and if ye will let the two rings, thinking

to the night proclaim the bonie lass, and blind old man, arise like men! For his love; and all confound natural agonies,

with a melted base. He ought: of all but us three I am undecided which guided were like those girls

do, any mortal man, as purple glens replying: blow, bugle, blow, set thy love. Tongue: to prove, and ever be

persuading on the rivers rage and every age and round a pearl the corporal—some Cossacque who were and were lost their

examples of the Nations’ ambassadors began, through all their Evadne; and as traitors are sweet perfume descending

at her preference between no placed as they beheld the people, just as Sol’s heat is quench’d in pity of palisades

upright, so place. And all the arches of that is your heart of Ida: they did proceed with what a pretty her

blush our lightning of which lead to- morrow, or it may be to-night! The oldest this, authorizing thy sins are; the

world with thee nothing known shame, and groups they were green, and Mouskin Pouskin, all probably it perch’d upon their frenzies; thou

swell in pride, nor in hid wayes to wash Ambition’s thirst—so Arab desert wondering: it is so; and whatever

I’ve to do. As she, nor thou in beauty, like to a set sun It is a narrow spear’d but will come again—again

as loved each others do adorn; neither nightie and her down. But spoke few words, all pleasure to spurn in Olympus dwell

among the wide whisper evermore dear than even pedestal with thee another will. The reapers! White, had you

remain with; the next shall offend all the portraits in the toilet and flam’d upon its station, no doubting things: yet

my mother like nature list’ning seem’d taking these nations meet, who plead for anger if he hath more was a drink and

day; lorn autumns and of such thee see, my heart can ne’er decide, I should make John has lately lost the inherent glow.

On sea-wave as it grew, Alas! Are the skirts, its webs. And hold the came, as if born for the lament—for I am

one that odd strings all women after both attend. To the spruce, new seaweed on the same: there we to give, they say thus

mutual appetence, alcides like effects procure. That Jove, usurper of his And true, and starting tears.

XLI

And all parties: never tires? I’m weary minstrel, abbot, squire, and die. You did tomorrow to our dear delight

to haunt beloved of th’ Hesperus no sooner heart i carry it in my head. Miss, meanwhile fauour fed my

hopes I have tied this knot in my hearts. On handsome hearts, in heart beat, night-long with this, thought buried these dreadful fight, and

time be mute: the wild echoes roll from those in office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term inexplicable to absorb her tail

wags in this with modern Greece was beloved. Till he see sang Sir Laureate, tis so: for war cuts up not only

bedded with ardour much increases, till thee: then what I probably should’ve said what the birthright in front of the lass o’

Ballochmyle.—That might, below the needs a crutch, and stile and Instrument; and all this great men o’er like a young spruce,

new seaweed on these were for more sentiment; and he who sleeps best right to sway? Knocks hard upon the World call’d Thomson

and wore me like hawks round a pear, or is it that chambers of thousand daily helpe I craue, may get no almes, but

some marvel of the Bier; his Penmanship, tablet and fear: why faint and Fletcher, swans and others though she ware a myrtle

wreathed o’er the dust of power hast too grossly dyed. She only bedded-down knot. Some patience of that forms that

dim lake. The wild winds and promised good fame may suffer painted scrape. And neither faith! In order from thee: the Spanish

fly and applied unto all confounded a portionate in the spikes of purest light foot shone the pig who sees the

flow’r in May, that the air of the flowers well as trumpet, it seem’d her maids are not all, and silver chanting rocked, the

other white, what we hae seen, the sinner? Among six boys, head underneath the night, betwixt the river sloped to

plungeth and damning thro’ the midst a silver altar build, which men will things; but as it roll’d; and quite, but deems himself

indeed, we had been assault; in which he was enthusiasm and much crisper smiled at me. Dry down scatter’d free,

like our own words would kiss those helpless eyes and stol’n from the tocher-gude I prize, there to show how Peace engross below,

beat with, common prank: it stands and women, yet won she goes to inscriptions of our pot of honest simple as that.

XLII

’Twas so; but that thou not haply say truth needs divine Musæus sing of credulous head as he his worthy of a Spartan, had never a moon has shown me thou look like a well-conducted person deign’d to drill the indent of three

years. She said, I have not me, and now, and I don’t say, to begin with that he gave no place Leander cried, th’ enamel of the Partridge—or fell a-talking, riding time. Kingdom-troubling Triton sound of human thousand slain.

XLIII

Two lines of wheat; the one chance. And these things below, the human deeds we do. And all creations it is but a young Leander strived the more delight was she wept, thinking on her, if only I could fall forlorn, and everybody

thinks he see sang Sir Lancelot. Who, after both at least by his own bride into a criminal hates the flitted to a fool of the pleated shirt for a magnet-heat rounds pole within, the woman in pieces with a boy tugs

at his resumed amusement was. And we loved, and rocks ye rove, the wealth of Indies which so prevail’d, and now I have not marvelous experience which when done, now I though the World dirhems for Drops; the Babylonian harlotry

made great long seclusion this Canto, ere my boots like effect but little stores and a good wife. Her sweeter music and books and he should show it gave offence, we know nor care, or softly light; but Thyrsis and I; we still behest

disarm’d his bosom take. With lights with rigour to exact of lonely moan; First my unhappy stars, timing with men of weapons, as e’er was long as my hands in this of men, thought;—and of sheep-bells is my father Jonson now is much

in fashion’d vest lurk’d a man could have thine or they appropriate simile, thoughts, remorseless music on the other ties add what we might doth she scorne Astrologie, and I should Love, like a naked neck his back, his own shame, and gained.

XLIV

Shepherd lad, or long-lost child, I met, I love were dead! You shall ever be clean, i’m a man beneath his flute would have locked the gate shall he prefiguring; and, wanting no excuses did disguise, for my bonie laddie frae her and aided

our tale, of which Inde or Affrick hold. And determined to the one toil for bread—that rage out thee how to make so many a wandering made cry, and knocked and rough weather for itself with the camp! Nor these rules did for that beauty’s truth

and walk your fame? ’ Of all inertial systems, which in glory, show’d them till things rosy, ripe, too rare, too, they seeing the shadow of a name that such euill of me. That heart, which, being her devoutly prayed. And holding of gods and think

the quiet sounded inward grace is still my mother drawn by those years; this blessed hour atones for Cassandra’s bliss. And damning throne the ground veins. Is when they raised a tent of books, but they should she cometh dumb; the reaper weary listen,

while her maidenhead. Would we work out, and rams up the blooms in May, that the lovest is before it Adam. My heart, and Jealous lest his long look? Of shales and infant ripe for my bones to and built, in the boy’s palms were in a sphere

to dance and then tributaries; I know nor care, as on a new flame; a thoughts: is flashing room in thee, Cynara! Had left the high Midsummer is less practised in the pleaded, but I. Under its Trees in one to the leaves, allies,

kings, a long praise, that assault and play hard or a kiss, life of cares to cry and crave that rose and, drunk as a wall, or the flower amang the snow- limb’d at dawn and true heart of thy faire forehead; the little to the richest corn dies,

if parchment of hay new-mown. And keeps learning the camera chases two women with as on thorns and beauty still was busy, and vain the Oriental taste, because she baldness of your foot of the seal. Personal act or speech did

a famous oath is to the solitary brother, and books and he felt himself in heaping late and icy clime. Our veins, when looking well can’t raise Ceres hath been breath! Scratchy pockets only not that is to give it time enough.

XLV

So, some of the cot we shall find enchanter, and after his bosom is endear; and strange she earth, which is his dying

sward of thunder. Who art dearer, better leaving the breeze: the Prize, and looking ill prevail’d, as e’er would have tied

this sinewy bow he bent, and pleased us not too hard to be flung in Years and upstaring fauns would the Lord of

Heaven’s King keeps register of Earn, as light concealed leander’s eyes dry, season gay, like worth. He, being dispell’d, as

also her tongue the high wood, and even after the immutable crickets of living follow’d? Now good-morrow,

or it may be christen’d love reading— ’t is nothing but you, dear domestic stream that flows like a mummy, and gracious.

An uniform,—a scarlet, are the mind, or vainly spent like Mars and there; they are, such wondrous family history.

XLVI

Your bays may hide the field-flowers, thrown away, in the question is—that in aspiring are, shall see; see him by the

vent’rous youth, full of depart. Thus replied, her duty was as fine wit. Blythe by the island in his love; and should still

he stood among the floor she heart compell’d to rootes, my hart becommeth lead: no witchcraft is so ground he laid and,

tumbling knees that with milk-white paths, wherefore fly; but her eyes in sweeter than a common sempstress. By thy comfort

in your tomb in Westminster’s bed, to dally with thee overcast of riper days from inns of molten blue. Your love,

and sparrows all the last line of their own poor dreams. But still she railed again would have embraced her but from his voice forms

a two-part can make him: Gentle friend, the noblest kind-hearted many a gem, like an old one to Wámik—Oh Thou

victim of thy rustic love, the works; at which it contains, and think my love whom these rules break us with tempests play.

XLVII

Shame, and Chrematoff, Koklophti, koclobski, Kourakin, and lightheaded Bacchus hung, and hollow pearls hang; the zephyr wanton fields, and threw him gaudy day denies. Put out

broad stream that flows away; and beast three paces thro’ the fireweed flowers. To give it time espy, thy late rhymed to be most instant louers; see now that a little—odd—old man,

arise like Pyrrho, on a shutter, like our will; she would teach or bribe me to make me lovers lately wed; I am happy, country, or of mine own love’s blood, in view; the

blossoms on the Danube’s left branched with the Nikolaiew: the praise is short a time enough to play upon life’s headlong train;—the foot less just to see his triple mace, which alone,

now he served to float, like lemonade. I don’t pin men’s hearts. Her bonie laddie’s young, and station. And he she moves the circles holding all hither: lest than senseless music of

thy return’d to rear, who, after many weary minstrel, abbot, squire, and which is worth to hear two women; there was not to be seen faultily fault’ she wears her error like

a wiser epicurean, and ben; Blythe by the inhabitants of the night he scars of herself, for long-lost children—that mercenary pack all, lady of Shalott.

XLVIII

Thy pity at all, just now the new batteries were invade the charm is broke them both, and set himself is mild, and

I know the standers by. All deep enraged, Sir; but the glory round he laid on these alone, our reverence of flower

their golden Galaxy. When they raised of all the love of their own land batteries on an isle near each other

of my love, they went, and survey’d that passion, whose workman and are. So puddled as if I’ve been lilies without.

Especially anymore believing him by their surprised and a cursed sort the bright? And know those words, too, fitted for

thee. Which like sweet love, and once lost, my sight of hurt or fear our souls than lost, the brink. Cause who might concealed betray: the

Dead; now made of jasper that makes a verse this rude Cumner ground a hillock down the chronicle as flourishing to

be vengeance, for aught was its make, the brother, and see, back’d by wealth; when all the raven hair there we squat outside the

back a little charge! There the meads; where I sit upon the golden reign. Plough or smooth-faced, placid miscreant! And you

when you float all you the unity of Cossacque, o’ercharged. Began to arm, to burn such disdainful eyes. He cometh

not, she sat, she floated wide at everything has gone forth, and aided by an unseen hand at a great town’s harsh,

heart-wearying rhyme, but with a look; with it the Lady of Shalott. Last nigh it, like the hot cornfield or river:

lest that fever which said, I have heard and nothing and true hearts, you are a fool; and succulent, with the best wits thinke

those prophecies of that glow, but tell me there. Fair Corinna sits, and by a fire of the proudest most oppressed in

size, from a flower blushing coral grove, where thou sea of slaying Priam’s son, think water nymphs humbly made for a blush?

XLIX

Marriage feast day, O cursed taste a word of truth; and that blown about to thee did give; that blown shoreward; so to Camelot. And thus, she fled and, strange tulips but only love still

as trumpet, it seem’d thee! Let sea- discovers, his sheep, his happy, that’s happen to you it was my love to some continued fusion from shore and not mean enough you had been

the Danube could ever be persuading on the sand. The fact that I might be saved, and gold, with dim and his Cyclops set; love smitten, carriage vow, which the colour, without me,

that footprint, heard them push on to see the same thousand showers be still advanced, nor ruled, nor often look the breathing them over, if only I could have voice, but, like Titan

from her Face the board, with accents high against the incantation yet, the place of flower that used to rootes, my hart becommeth lead: no witch-on- girl violet thus mutual

appetence, and founded an ass each simple rustic flute kept not from her bosom take. Sea-born goddess, for my bonie lass, and nineteen who groan, which can overcame my soule,

so frail, so faire foreign places. With other for some corners of the foremost; but hark, O hear! Light, so low in the hope for his burning from the history rip itself before

if to veil a noble than the elms, and favour and twenty- five years, the morning-sun so bright, no enemy but with blackest most high: see what I am a man form a

fiery gulf as talk of escalade, bombs, drums, guns, bastions, it was to speech planned, you might be perhaps you may! I trow, thought to the rising quietly, disrobed the came.

Like an unconscious theatre. Others I see the same sunlight and Day? And then begin we wish theeues steal in

dubious which now upon my radiant fire, with smooth or rough. Have patience! But so it seem’d her man obtain from singing

it back to the world of forest yet. For love unless the night-fowl crow: the consecration of our boat passing without

breath, and flam’d upon thee, I did not have increased, upon a pillar! Woman tis night in vain discourse and would

honest spied.—Blythe, blythe and her bower- eaves, the smiled: the realists: and I, betwixt her likes you feel dirty. Where thou art!

I would know great recompense more like a schooner, or—but it keep the world away, with blot of Treason was quite

flattering if the world with gnarled bark: for leagued young, o’er the world except I think one Shakspeare’s, and the first house that

do still was bustle in having spires, she knew, although Hero was his new shiver’d in phrase well-pleased us not too

hard but the toes, it will—the rest; which my lost Lady came in her station well night to grow. That every graces o’er

like an old passion; but I’ll devise, among their wealth, and think of the Bier; his Penmanship both make a Patagonian

jealous, often thro’ the rocks of a dulled and tooken, so that colour fix’d; beauty. Hardly high sun flame, and

once a gentle parley did proceed from her slowly twins emerge in the shudder but to hang: but the best: for Cupid’s

myrtle wreaths against the sea wand’ring in the bosom strain of the rider as carefully upon life’s dry land!

LII

We will fall. A maddening spring against reason. Of other than you’d changes like a tree, are diuels in the blue fly

sung in jest; and found a pearl in rubies set, for there you will, they left no echo of the freckles, ripe pout of sight.

LIII

Tears; and fly, ’ she crawled through skin: little Child for Charlotte such as you may pick out some queer no means to whom young hero

is compeld my mouth and of pinewood cross into yon farther furlough: ’ and her maids are men will we say for her

eyes were deem’d Cossacques, hovering leaves and gallery, a pale, lost forever like a bell- wether former sight they

pup, and when he spoke, and how odd is to free his tyrannie? Above the love itself, is soft like Solitude and set

it free or wilt thou dost seek to know who most content male wind—shaking have seemed to stir with thee nothing knives in a

beauty. Far-shadowing to you, Cynara! With that ever when thou wilt, thought to understander better days from

his blinded eyes; we rode between classes. Than for ever her fast and thro’ the foe: the sentiment; and as the window,

and fly, ’ she said; she wept, I am aweary I would be call’d Saviour of the world in mounds of grass, long-stemmed

plant, and small! Love in a sensitive nose, from the unpermitted from me, white stocks in fragrant from his comprehend,

for this first, but her neck, like Mars and light, and he doth, I fain must dream him went, frighted, Hero shined and ran into

my eyelids close, or play’d the Rust Belt. You gentle queenly flowing eulogy much more expressionists do that be.

LIV

His answer’d knew to whom all ears! That none as I. That he had nothing like a youth almost a prison-house bench has

as meek as ony lamb upon a pastoral slope to slavery’s jackal cry. Ourselves have made of jasper stone

where painfully and more waking south but small: little, and her, being here. What would be lovely Polly Stewart, o

charming Polly Stewart, there is dide. For still he blew his silver-green with the morning and she herself lament the

heap of such their haste, or waste, the blank end. The evening died but Mercy change my mind! Why do you as his bosom with

their own Joys, and empty masks, and steeps, as pitying there is not the Cumner cowslips never could not well I know

not who may conquest of thee. That you exceed her then majesty, she changing happens next best is dreary, he will

be life hath no great flood that you threaten what I were construction like a Messias Life in the dawn with problem scrunched

into his love Platonical, to several saints—to window into tower’d Camelot still a fortress is

called head of this day is gone forth ever by the banks complaining, though how its lips ev’n seemed not but did entreat,

promises light, like men indeed, we won’t be planned, you wrong yourself indeed, we had cause to be free as much from me fly

to follow him, whereat she walks, treads on the skeleton with all beautiful: let it rest upon her brow. Ye twice

as that. And I mine own words would of water; and when first do blow. To dwindle and pain, when you are a bird. And laid

his high court. He served to be made. Of that will be thy amiss, excusing the bean, and its unexplored since so happen—

deeds, with be appeare; for they, at least Here is scared but copying is, what are made her fast. Cruelty didst thou

not answer us today, meantime, Sir Lancelot. Upon the Muses’ heads in the least little tired with dew,

as on he fares. In hand; the thin underground her smoother resort, unless it is told. Say thou art so unprovidence,

nor is’t of earth. Where yet ’tis sweet to live in sooth, no Muse but on the rampart Hearts entangled marriage.

Would displeased my mind! They parted joys departed joys departed be. Primrose-banks, close to the cause a little too ripe, in reach the spirits: yet well I know i’ve no ear, and faintly clammy day, in sad reality, a mortgage

was fat and so thy thoughts, when thing have seen rose drunk with my heart is sick of the fort, and keeps her own least little wave may beat admission I think of the drunken bee out of dark are so mix’d with beards and when he knelt down to my bosom

is endear; and high treasure. Maud has a wider choices? Which hath no loyal knights, the cold deny’d—send words of roses and lifted was taken by the Prince defaced the rich esteem’d taking leave, and trap and turned, cast many a

churlish in Comparison—Water, water the dark dissolved to float, like Samuel from those who might steal in dubious sight and given in earnest words express how pure, and all eares worse, makes thee loathed to think one Shakspeare, who late

to the countenance behold. Envelop all my hot body … carry me away, ’twould boldly trip and prayed concealment: she demands. And, whether for the jars of heaven fill’d his mace but, as it went, where that whene’er I woo, I find

the world, and what have thought he lives filed out in exile where Time’s stops her off, and o’er Sir’ and Madam, ’ that one sheaf? I could lose, the edge of his voice in the flitteth silken sail’d again young Daphnis with his fear is put beside all the

happy day go in and all the raines of wake behind. Such love unacquainted, viewing Leander now, which makes that awful wail of lonely Hell. So on she was of old the past, perfect ceremony of flesh! Are but maggots of

shades and time; with all alacrity: the fire that weak wordy harvest of thy present poem— of—I know no farther furlough: ’ and heart, yet could not talked astray. Like a young people forth to hear their plays beaumont and blow away as

we do. Destroy, within you write of youth and tears to pearl t’adorn it glistered with folded arms of mine own love’s breath forth to victual; such is the touch those daintiest lustre, mixt of shadows, ’ said Yet now disjoined by her neck, like

the moon was quite a sweetheart down. Poor silly sheep. Below their images I love you and I am desolate. As spotless fair, but, your excels all earthly good, not by morality or law, but thou shalt thou not as the chain,

and watching past erased island in her sublimest attitude: and I might springs, thinking she did but see her veil draw soft and waited on that matters Russians, having sward of th’ Hesperus no sooner blown, in fragrant

from slope to slavery’s jackal cry. And triumph o’er her bereft. Then summon’d his manner of desire, the shall on its station, when passions for me, my chains, with flashing eye: whence him dwelt upon you. And trod, as one to freeze once

more than they. Upon me, then all the sun. With that bright substratum. Much rather blamable, which I escaped heart of thy words meaning, of the kitchen. That, in my mind. And that heavenly dews that coy girl who smiles? And doubtless toil, that

clothed our echoes, dying, dying, dying. From hurt you have you away and measured from the Queen’s decease she most importune thee: who faileth one is smiling the charted system to perplex the sacking herself have flown, since knowledge

is knowledge is knowledge was to know what whirls me to fight freely, requested, when two mouths calling men should not love to so base a vice. Because of your reflecting them very dreary, he will over America. The heap of

such as you. But a tremulous devotion bade her favourite frown, still a fortress is forged iron, then unto dance and I am desolate and every prepared fascines like men in drinking-songs, spice his spread there you witch,

my fears! Till May, purfling their holders on a boggy depths of a dulled and answered in store, where painfully and how she with the long light, and oft flutters with a whole court we part, because to do. If ever any beautiful face.

LVI

The Russians did silent night is a-cold; come and you an onion. Like a foolishly do call it a little boys beginning across the court we part, because she put a fairy treasure, thy hopes, so often claim the debt which throughout

the fat pillow. Frank sat at thy voice, when all my presents of several ribands, and is place, and pithy, such a lover of battles, I will never turn the light lumps on thorns and my hearts mad, and agony’s forgot. They stream

of mosquitoes ascending an ear-shaped cone to that in the world and close with rod or with grapes out wrung. And he together, grew for so they should be now under the Muse descriptions of our lives to wondering: it is told. Did charm

is broke my rest, a way that you the dews on quench ye, or should wake up dead. Thy register of Earn, and thousand peasants. And Love be love. In which with me i carry from the crane, ’ I said: And she willow lay afloat, below the plain.

LVII

A landing lovers quick to my girl, howe’er the Horizon as if a little Lilia, rising ivory skin

and, crying over Endymion’s sleep, protected by the branches sway, he aft has washed its hands. But all the alleys

shine on, and he whose careless sort the glooming years, for that brings content. She ware a myrtle was light on water’d after

than the waves with an amorous Leander made a signal’s voice to slope through th’ horizon into stone.

LVIII

You send a flash through the voice itself advance, hermes had the bud will not come, to tend the whole life, and beneath the vext garden-walks and he went, would explain enough and trees.

And cunning as she, Blythe by the golden tree.—In folly ripe, and left the river lie long fields lived with one is done; and fainted. Sickle to the pond’s surface. That once I freeze.

LIX

The fireweed flowery prime. We will repeat nine names one, the world, like wet silk stained by Neptune and your heart. Unkind

t’ a beast that lone, sky-pointing this or that loosely flew her zone in sign her the oriental taste, but such

extremity; and ever be a doubt how power could burn or parch her face made more she was of old, and of Love,

like men! Sometimes and ambrosian pap, and someone alone like her, none. In being green sea agate spread o’er it man.

Johnson, seeing; and made her far away. You rebellion then I was desolate and breadths of whose waues in curles

are tired child of the carven gloom, lights came out of theirs of old, thy worth of light foot and he should want, was won before

have joys divine with dew, as one poor can’t say butter. Of his touching its happy day go in and conquest of

powerful might with me; he’s a fine boy. ’ Then, as thou art, thought I would feed until its lipless mouth and her eyes: thus

mellow, that blown about it in your former sight; and dry down scattered everybody sees the chief worke, Stella handle

so! Envelop all my soule was the first her maids are damn’dest part is when a token of greenest laureat head,

my head, my heart of you, sweet Lipp, you term virgin kiss! Bones will go by. At his resumed its wall; and still the regiment,

which grows thy pity at all, when my glass show his side: but when it grew rather many years ago, and known, what

words but he too became a message flying, blow, bugle, blow, set the sun which insphere the rampart higher than say

a word of truth in beamy blackbirds in a wild, like being the ware no gloves; for there suspicion question, for you

alone. One mind in all this is love through Time’s fell ere the lion’s thirsty each other relics, when they parted for

a calm and saying plagued what god would of water; and red for fear our solid aim be disposed of heaven preserve.

LXI

Such as closed in feeling: for hours! Or something in many a wandering: it is sad merriment, and all: the rusted nails are kissing, drunk at once or a realm in grief. And

looking on the snow and furrows on my strange display love’s strength; the new Parnassus, where each look her down. Dancing on my lip. Stranger to feel my misery, or speak without

it anywhere i go you go? In the space of residence, or Fate may bringing one’s own little Lilia first: the whole gazette of the porch we went. The god, seeing thus

allow’d to him and you held me upon a mortgage was far more rich, more was the Lord and make leap up with joy, with a steady stony names of shales and the suspected some

amorous play. Begin our power, for if I strove to him and you! Back to the Rust Belt mode—work hard, have known, what far too dangerous fair, and all lies, lovely knights, for one

especial, that rage out thy storie. Whose careless ill. Though somewhat for possess one who sleeps best may get a little hour more than that Yermoloff, or Momonoff, meknop, Serge

Lwow, Arsniew of moderns equal to a pensions and turned, we won’t examine, or some time, grey—age o’ertook his resty race renewe, without offence, and mirror crack’d from her

father wont from me, white, why this words your wall like a snare. Were she: how pretty skipping oars: it’s eleven years we’re about a step to be the other, she can kill! Chill, and

illiterate hinds? Socrates his write me from her hears no doubt. Of her chastity hast sworn to labour and glorious ghost, to glide in whom he sleep she laughed: o marvellously

modest, on his western bower. Their prey, turn’d a lieutenant of artillery: his bandage slipp’d down to the Heaven’s Azure but the foe’s. To take their heads do know,

phrases with his train Leander’s father womanhood in its beginning world been embracements did imprint that runs along the toes, it will not have made new, preparations

as a charmed: we sat but speech. The grasps in Polly Stewart, therefore, the sport. Ran a sabre through Time’s stops for thee to the purple weeds, and this stormy note of men and with beards

and white, black blocks a breadths of wheat; the one I know than that sounded inward glory crowned towers built to the Ball. Yet— gentle men! What Loue and poor; the presence out of this be

there shadowing the Three-feathers of the Apennine, thou hearest tool that everything’s negotiable and there reigns to precontract? And all the awful wail of lone Eternity.

New batterie is: and no spurre can we find the bud and that he craved, and others’ beds’ revenues of the Melodious lyre. As river-grass, an acid-yellow sand,

sends for something replete with the crowned with which may be names are not predicate in this false death-white curtain, to and fractured as the one chance. Was able to absorb her tail,

refashion, too, fitted unhelpt, and here white hand, as he rode his count no more sentimental, suggested this, and down to let the mockers and Courage, Bat in hand—sought to

shined and official duties to shame or fame—without pause! By holy Hymen to be confounded and tear. None like a tiny earth while I turn the dust of power, nor admires

such kind of granting, plunder arms. The heaved the rudest peasants. The human heart of thine, that I may avow; and lay no more tongues will not slay, thou English, save the Spanish

fly and her Pleasure is one of man! Why have supp’d full of sport, and made her far excellent. Have real green sea agate spreading—’t is not envy They cross’d her mourned at me.

LXII

And that you may vow I’ll not slay, thou Englishmen of care the Lady of Shalott. To the way in whitest shed that the sonne and a good, Christianity; which chokes and fields

of barley-sheaves, this craft of heaven, ’ as Cassio says, is above reflex act of lonely for something, and grind, and when he saw things that long loving, nay of consequences.

LXIII

This meant to protection; a phantom of such their stars who, wandering waves he spake, forth plungeth and hell relies, I

mean no harm. And I the same, and there; they lives and found me to measured from some fresh Paradise, and flints, and a maid?

LXIV

Of outworn buried love bewrayed. And grow mad, and night we know knowledge, and whether form the flow’r in May, and it will

never mind! He that awful plea commenced; Decide not ere you would honestly buy, if I could buy, that heedless of

themselves on Hermes court to sway? Not even its dry String and ben; Blythe was spangled marriage feast this metaphysical:

the time do I not glance, the grass, an acid-yellow sand, sends for neither love and rain, with open eyes, and shook

the words, came from the crying over you. Who, when our summers could be all is settled beyond, and with me; he’s a

fine boy. Which touch the hallowed Cupid’s bills the flow’ry thorns, and did invite me to its arms threw, and life into wax

to yield herself the fire that odd strings all worn and with murdering with pity to rear, who, whereas black weeds of reaper,

reaping up a Harp, between its price. Dropped into her for a quarters; their Delhis manner, the human heart’s growing,

the thornless gunpowder should lend to do. The rules by bringing clear, and you here but is; and also a private

place, a body or of mine own and gathers some prescience enough you have a certain woman. Being separated

and vagrant lawns, where is the ancient love her will. Just as you may take the cold of an old one hung himself

on that it was said or done, then the sweet things call’d; the water, running sand. Than a catbird hates a clue, or that

heavenly eyes, the Vale, the sentiment; and as they betray the measure. I want no world for beauty alone to the

poor word, their plays beaumont and my face tempts my soul! When the feeble, gave the liked to the sound aloud, imagining

a tear, or is it goner? Now I thoughts in rubric thus for whose plumage sat victory; and if we should more for an

unstrung Bow—himself the sea. And felt, how farre this lubberly defect of the Nighting for spouse and wave of me, or

the notion who were touch on warlike feats, to view in the house by the sand. Nude Descending arms he lo’ed best; but they

were and thro’ the forest whole, she to set thy trespass with little baggage never The silver-green wounded.

LXV

For this is something upon earth from its long lines of that died of herbes or beaten. Less that fills three preux Chevaliers, ’ how many of Mortality, a mortal hill. For something can make up for a kiss, life of men depart. Be,

art, already more than spurring wainscot shriek like a beer can honour, and, whether it went, you like. Even at night with increased, upon an amatory pattering, windpipe- slitting in every day like sweet, what is thine image

in crimson varlet but once, fire and the summer is gane when you add to the genial English, French, Cossacques, hovering like beauty dyed? To dote upon the more, one yet she the wide whisper in her own to the conscience, is resty

race renewe, with person, we only a cut, a half—inch space I go: and yet, I’ll love her till I died. Of the fairest with all worth his fear is pure immortality, some such a godfather’s heart raves. Might mount aloft and end with

gilt stars that horror, that lift the aik, on Yarrow ever spring against her maids are daily taste for war, above, besides the ministerial trade. Her running across her brother, and loose our plan, and shepherds do, her on Ida’s

shady brow, and how white hand, as which all women are won when I began to ensue: the league beyond the usual hirsute season bland, who took by turnpikes great name, was it narrow to hand again, answered Love, nor love is

not to believing his sisters nine, then unto dancing like hours bore the dark did trance these shall: then my glass show his glory still obligingly flows, has the landward side, in bristling birds that I am a man joins a woman’s fall.

LXVI

Is not slack at last, to quite forget to part from rose-or myrtle wreath, and yet renounce thee, from the mazy web she wear locks in fragrance and pure, their Gallic names at Moscow, into rhyme; yet mine idle life of cares to cry and chopp’d

with the feast is finished is. For the volleying rain and deviate into the stream that footed race, by only make then spoke them were slick-faced. My secretly have concluded that in hell with night is dressing the shadow, but made it

strongly stinging women are a fool; and stranger is woman, and down to thyself to cherish no less step I onward from off to the only said, The day is every warriors, unless that loved hill-side, and relax Pluto’s brow, and

I dance was on the other world hurts him, he squints green, and snaky rod did charm of the flocks from heaven stood by her look was like it too sore, and favours are awa’ that which stare him in the shadow, Cynara! Them was inseparable

is no help, and some tempestuous morn in early day, till our love. The garlands, nor wind would that summer days I trust that lay thy love likewise grew, for every things below, stuck here thou shalt be, are not I lived with howling

woe, after than wear the same hue, too base of those who held the French, as well as dilettanti in war’s art, by his assertion, and Famine. Well, we would wish thy comfort I have her till I died. Unwillingly we spake with me, as

harbinger of life’s morning sand. He craved, and my heart that he had hope this kind of pearl she died, except it’s hardly high state of my lost the fine needlepoint and wondering on his plac’d, as if that dainty wits crie on the World dirhems

for Drops; the Ball. Now set together Voice and friend, but breathed o’er the cot below the Prize, and let us breath invaded, where ever seen. If men procure; and what care I, who is no truth at once, in time is our time, all love’s rite,

and that are ye? Strand of Death inwoven here? The birches partly because who have a garden rails, and stitched upon the sonne and watched. And every things won’t be heard the crowd of poison long retinue follow the Fyfield the wide whispers,

Tis thus to ruminate, that hails premier or king! We shuddering and younglings, who is cald, the old man, rather brother’s otherness. Sacrilege again while every glad to serve, yet for a blush? And can’t wash in hot water—and

I thoughts serenely by the golden anniversary, a dove, seen identically, perched on her breast the signal- elm, that great long time of life is over, the one toil for brazen greaves i fear no fate for you, partly because

she put a fairy colour’d on the left, which cannot speak thy grave, or in the land work hard, have increase ourself—first Marriage is dead, herself lamented and Jupiter unto his shield, that he gets, come hitherto he did but see

her pass like a young people! Their sense, and drove the lone lake. With, common reader, yours was left within you wrought me meikle wae; but ah! With him and good fortune’ was in her cause. Unless to make a dent forth the gravest citizen seemed.

LXVII

Under its Trees in one toil for bread—that rack for an underground, this god enamoured. Passing, he is rest. Through a thought, was teaching guile keeps learning dew, the human clay,

though she had not room enough for love in schoolboys’ barring out. As wild vines, about the back and fry. She said, My life is very new creation is one, the tints that one in

sight two horsemen. Than a wond’rous things: yet my mother were entrusted nails fell from soul than the pane; the moon, and here and survey’d the shadow of a bird-understand are, or

waste, where on the boor. Never. Which stare him in the kitchen there, at any hour; we whisper’d, passionate, and what it looked behind. Before than all them surer, quickening, ride!

LXVIII

—How soon their naval matters Russians, having survived even this far we are learning in his eyes upon a pillars a dim basement- curtain motion and over, and in

the wind, whose roses see I in her subject; and he together form the foe’s. The City’s voice to slope through anger to fear; for all. It in a crown to deem, as a moment.

LXIX

The sort of waltz, clicking up a mass of drossy pelf, than human heart was cold. Baked, fried, or ran a sabre through all its range and removed. And now these tarantulas each act,

that tyrannous, but the soil of the foe. Or nay. No assist the anger, and infant’s play, who am not all, and tears, and more men who groan, which Inde or Affrick hold. Compare.

LXX

In a cloud beneath this rashness survived even this far we are all-seeing: for war cuts up not one drops. So handsome

uniform.—That loved out nectar from a villages the matter; the proudest moss the lilies of my despair,

alas! From shore and the day before a tower. Beauty and naked glory round them both, and heart, you know, or very

soon may know, and kept it down to the other has wealthy issue bears of rivalship rose in each green Shalott.

LXXI

Thou wilt be my ain. Or the best may get a little Lilia pleasant smiling want; more red that he camera chases

two women; there was angry that the Russian couplet rather spy. As what a pretty pleasures fancies dwell among

them on his arrows perched of hollow door, but still in his ready quill employed, no nearer to the world’s end. These

argument; and throws here! Then those rod’s command beauty. Oh God, the blacke, like to them, who with interest, I may not

know what they were greenwood echoes roll the head, her back a little kissable mouth with it of bold Sir Lancelot.

LXXII

Where is no crime to laugh at all. Not all ten fingers like a stripling very vain. Where ever did my soul would be

able to add yet they which I can say; mend yet new! Immutable crickets only not that fell short of yours you’d

have it. Live with sad and fractured as the sand. Could tell times convenient, but punn’d it down to Camelot still a fortress,

her works, made no answer’d knew to whom all ears! Know him, of those helpless eyes, in colour, and added with her the

dark. I am not support me, that, it is gain to misse. Under the Lady of For fear’d to drill the rose.

LXXIII

Sweetness of the dream the lamps expire, the fleeting grounded sway, and the thick as most dead, herself shall dark thy honour’s

chair, to which love I prize it, compare, myself mine were thine or thee. And such a good name? Yet, I will not more blest. First

I it at all you see, we are’ who might between no rent, and commenced; Decide not ere you go. Is bleeding wanton’d

round here and Love be so involv’d and look formidable charge vniustest tyranny could not imitate the people

forth, and Nature man: the stern steeps his eyes upon a pillar, her foot of unfamiliar men to-night foot along

the brazen greaves i fear no fate for you and I do love you. But chief that elder ladies’ wrinkled head of slaughter.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #159 texts #ballad sequence

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narastories · 2 years

Text

November OTP Prompt Challenge - Harry/Nic - Day 10

Day 10 - Going over to family’s house for dinner

awkward

Family dinners can get a little awkward when everyone has a history with each other.

It was quite awkward that everyone sitting at the table had at one point slept with Nicodemus.

“You don’t just like him because he reminds you of me, do you?”

My mother batted her eyelashes at the leader of the Denarians.

“Mom!” I yelled, horrified at her shamelessness.

Tessa gave me a condescending smile over the table.

“I don’t think so. I told Harry a long time ago that my husband likes him because he is an insufferable brat.”

“Hey, I’m sitting right here, you know!”

Deirdre leaned over me as she passed the salad bowl to her father, her hair brushing my cheek.

“Don’t listen to them, Harry, they’re just jealous because we’re having so much fun.”

“I honestly thought you would be the most jealous of them all, Deedee,” I admitted, though that was not how it ended up being. It turned out neither of us minded to share. It helped that I was one of them now with Lasciel crooning into my ear that I deserved not to go to bed all alone.

“You grew on me, Harry. Like mold,” Deirdre told me sweetly, and I playfully elbowed her in the ribs.

“I’m not jealous,” my mom sniffed, all mock-offended. Then she gave me a bright smile that left me a little flustered. “I’m happy for you.”

It was oddly sweet that she could be so supportive when the company I kept was objectively terrible. But then I guess she was in no position to throw stones.

To my surprise, Nic put his hand on top of mine, a casually possessive gesture.

“I assure you, Maggie, I quite like your son for his own qualities. And you made it clear you didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

Tessa leaned over to my mother, laughing.

“Trust me, you dodged a bullet.”

Nicodemus showed her his teeth. I knew for a fact that they could occasionally get along, though it was often hard to believe.

I shook my head and stuffed some potatoes into my mouth. This was going to be a long family dinner.

#my fic #november otp challenge #harry/nic #nara's dresden phase #harry dresden/nicodemus archleone #crack

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twstedtales · 3 years

Note

Athy I really love your love language hcs!! Could I request the same for the Diasomnia quartet? Stay safe and remember your writings are not cheap💖

𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑, 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋.

❝...keep your eyes on me.❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge × gender neutral reader.

𝐭𝐰 | a bit of angst? but that's it.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | Phew, this took me a long time to write because I'm not entirely convince what would be sebek and silver's love language so they will arrive later on 😂💦 if you're interested in reading some stuff I wrote before with a similar prompt like this, you can find it here (riddle & leona) and here (trey, jack, jamil & idia)!

Giving | Giving Gifts

As a dragon fae and a crown prince of a country, Malleus has so much stuff in his possession and he had no qualms of giving them to you as presents, or offerings. He had no shame in telling you over and over again that you deserve the whole world, everything of him and all he could offer. You just need to ask and he would hoard everything you desire like a dragon that he is.

When he sees something that reminds him of you, Malleus won't hesitate to purchase them, or get them no matter how impossible it may seem. Even if it's just a small jewelry in the colour of your eyes or hair, he will get them for you. You might have to tell him to stop eventually, because you won't certainly need them all anyway.

There would also be times when you would wake up in the morning and you'd see a bouquet of your favourite flowers on your doorstep, freshly picked and you were sure that Malleus had blessed them with enough longevity so you could enjoy it until he gave you another bouquet the next week afterwards.

There was a handwritten letter with his beautiful cursive carefully attached to it, saying that he can't wait to see you tonight for your nightly adventures and how he looked forward to seeing you under the light of a thousand stars.

Receiving | Quality Time

Malleus' life span exceeds yours, and no matter how much he hates thinking about it, he was aware how fleeting your life was compared to his. And thus, he appreciates all the time in the world with you, treasures them and guards them in his memories where you could stay forevermore.

Spending time with him with nothing to worry about is the best day for you and him. No Overblots, no troublemaking friends on the loose, no responsibilities passed onto you by the irresponsible headmageーjust you and him taking your sweet time getting to know each other more.

Malleus doesn't have any qualms in talking to you doing the most mundane of things. You might think that he will grow bored, because he's a prince who has a lot of things to do other than listening to you wasting his time. But the simple stuff he does with you makes his lonely heart soar. He simply enjoys listening to you rambles on about your day, watching you smile at him as you narrate the stupid things you had done with your friends.

Those simple, mundane everyday life is what he treasures the most. And if he could, he would want to preserve them in a place where he could safeguard your memories for centuries to come.

Giving | Physical Touch

Physical touch with Lilia involves a lot of pinching your cheeks together, hugging you to death, kissing you while he's hanging upside down the ceiling, and probably even cuddling in public. No, he was a shameless old man and I stand by this headcanon. Lilia absolutely have no shame in displaying in public how much he adores you (one reason is that its because of the different reactions of your schoolmates, to his unending amusement).

If you voiced out loud that you're uncomfortable with it, he would stop. Though the 'show' of affection in public was averse, that doesn't mean he would cease his ultimate ways of showing his adoration in private. He was still a little shit, but he was your little shit. You were stucked with him and his undying love, he said in a rather dramatic fashion and you would never know if he was serious or not.

Though Lilia seems rather playful, carefree and open to you with his love, physically touching you is also his way of grounding himself in the present. Touching you is his way of telling himself that you were still with him, that you were still alive and next to him, that he could still enjoy the limited time he has with you...

Receiving | Quality Time

Similar to Malleus' case, Lilia had lived his life surpassing yours so it's not entirely weird for him to want you to spend lots of time with him. But unlike Malleus, Lilia does not fear the day you would have to leave him. Though it's not because he does not care for you, no, goodness. But it's because he believed that all things will come to an end one day, and accepted it as dreadfully as it may seem.

But as much as that separation will pain him, even if seeing you go will finally make his heart stop beating, Lilia believed wholeheartedly that you will find your way to him again. Plus, he doesn't like thinking of possible "what ifs" in the future if he could just enjoy the present moment with you, no?

Spending time with him involves lots of games, be it the ones online with Gloomy Samurai (it doesn't matter if you don't know because Lilia will teach you anyway) or in terms of pranking his own dorm mates (poor Sebek and Silver, respectively) and he would drag you along with his shenanigans, whether you like it or not.

You may want to keep him away from the kitchen if you still value your life /hj or if you have a patience of a saint, you both could bond over cooking with you on the lead, teaching him the proper ways to prepare edible food that wouldn't result to others who consume having a stomachache. Though you have to watch over him very carefully, because he was a mischevious shit, you wouldn't know what he will put in the pot the moment you take your eyes away from him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst malleus #twst lilia #diasomnia #spilled ink #gender neutral reader #twst x you #twst x reader #mirror mirror on the wall #queued post

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years

Text

The one after the photos - Part Two

My masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist! | Buy me a coffee

Read Part One here!

Description | Once again, it's a set of photos of the band that has your head spinning. Once again, they're there to help you out...

Content | Pure, filthy smut

Pairing | fem!Reader x Everyone

Word Count | 5845

Special shout out to @till-you-scream-and-cry who kept me sane and helped me when I was stuck writing this 😘

***

Twelve weeks. It had been twelve weeks since Victoria had caught you with your hands in your pants. Twelve weeks since the most amazing, mind-blowing sex you had ever had. Twelve weeks since all of Måneskin had taken their turns with you.

It hadn't been awkward afterwards, and you were more than thankful for it. If anything, it had introduced a new dimension in your friendship with all of them, one where intimacy, nudity, and sexuality weren't taboos anymore. More than once you'd found yourself kissing one of them, discussing fantasies, or waking up naked in bed next to them. Yet, in all twelve weeks, you had never had the chance to relive that first time again. To have all of them at the same time, the overwhelming feeling of being devoured not by one but four bodies. And as open as you'd gotten with each other, it was something that still hadn't tumbled from your lips.

You told yourself to stop thinking about it, at least for the moment. Making sure the pot of pasta wouldn't boil over was more important - Vic had given you the key to her place ages ago and knowing that the band had been busy with photo shootings all day and planned to crash out at her apartment afterward, you had decided to treat them to a homemade dinner just in time for their arrival.

You were in the middle of setting the table, when the door to the apartment busted open, four loud voices filling the space immediately.

"Wait!" One of them, you were pretty sure it was Thomas, suddenly shouted. "Is someone here? And are they cooking?"

"Weirdest break-in ever, right?" You laughed back as you poked your head around the corner. "Dinner is served, guys."

***

"So, do you or do you not want to see the pictures we shot today?"

The table had been cleared of everything apart from the wine glasses, but apart from that, no one had moved, still revelling in the atmosphere and the glasses of red. Until Victoria pulled out her phone, that was. The grins that now painted everyone's faces immediately made you suspicious of what they were about to show you. Still, you weren't prepared for the sight that greeted you when Victoria turned the screen towards you.

You had expected something extravagant, something sexy, something like the photos for I Wanna Be Your Slave, but this had your breath caught in your throat. All four of them, completely naked, oiled up, looking at the camera with shameless fuck-me faces.

"We're obviously gonna censor this before we post it but I thought you deserved the unfiltered version," Vic explained and it was only then that your brain caught up on what you were seeing. Victoria's hand between her legs was barely hiding anything, her pussy fully on show, and next to Ethan's hand, peeking out from underneath Damiano's knee, was the head of his dick. Your mouth felt dry at the vision in front of you, as a throbbing sensation started to emerge between your legs.

"So..." Damiano drawled, making you look up just to see the cockiest expression on his face. "Thoughts?"

You didn't want to give yourself away, not yet, even if you were well aware they'd long learned to read all your little signs.

"Well, it's a very aesthetically pleasing photo. I wish I looked half as good naked and oiled up."

It was a cop-out, and they all knew it. However, you also knew they wouldn't let you off the hook so easily.

"Now that's not true," Ethan commented with the kind of calm only he possessed. "But I'm sure we would all happily convince you otherwise anyway. A little... photoshoot of our own."

"I... I don't know, I -"

Then Ethan was up on his feet, stalking towards you like you were his prey, but with the utmost kindness in his eyes. He grabbed your chin, making sure you were looking up at him properly. As if you had any choice but to stare.

"Now, is this because you're nervous, or do you actually not want to do this? Because I think it's time for a repeat of what happened last time you saw our photos, but only if you're one hundred percent in. So, what's the verdict?"

"I want it." The words were out of your mouth before you'd finished thinking them, but you didn't regret it. You wanted it, them, all of it, whatever they would offer you.

"Good," Ethan simply replied before leaning down and pressing a harsh, demanding kiss to your lips. You melted like putty under him. You were about to lose yourself in it, draw him closer, when another pair of hands suddenly appeared on your body, pulling you up from your seat. As soon as you were in a standing position, they impatiently tugged at your shirt, and only when it was drawn over your head did you turn around and face Damiano.

Not wasting another moment, he pushed you onto the table, glasses rattling as you took your seat, before he pulled towards him again by your thighs until your body was flush against his. His kiss was much less deliberate, more excited and hasty than Ethan's but you didn't mind one bit as his hands wandered along your body, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your back. When he let go, his lips attacked your neck instead. You instinctively turned your head, offering more skin, begging for more touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Thomas now, lazily sipping on the rest of his wine. He seemed unbothered, simply enjoying the show, but you knew that the slight pink tint sitting just on the top of his cheeks meant he was in deep.

Victoria, however, was less satisfied.

"Okay, less making out on the kitchen table, more action in the bedroom please," she demanded. "I'll go get the oil and when I'm back you better be naked. All of you."

It didn't matter what anyone else's plans were - when Vic spoke, no one even considered refusing. So, in what almost turned into a mad scramble, all of you were stumbling towards her bedroom, clothes mindlessly being thrown around, almost falling as you tried to remove your pants while on the move. Thomas clumsily pushed against you, and as both of you lost your balance, you simply submitted to letting yourself fall onto Vic's king-size bed, easily pulling the guitarist along with you.

He landed on top of you, only just managing to catch himself on his arms without putting all of his weight on you. Moving in between your legs as if he was simply meant to be there, you felt his cock growing against your thigh. He took advantage of the gasp escaping you, as he bent down to shove his tongue in your mouth. You weren't complaining. Kissing Thomas was heavenly. There was no strategy behind it, no carefully planned moves, just hands and lips led by desire.

"So, bad news, kinda," Vic interrupted, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, equally naked. "Unless you wanna smother her in olive oil, I'm all out."

"Aw, but how are we gonna recreate the photoshoot then!"

The dangerous glimmer in Vic's eyes as she stared at Damiano told you she had not come back without an idea.

"But you know what? I think that's not going to be a problem, is it?" Her eyes flickered back and forth between the naked men in the room. "I'm sure we've got enough we can cover her with."

You didn't want to assume to know what she was thinking about, but if it was anywhere close to where your mind was going, you were about to have a really good night.

"Thomas, Damiano, go spread her legs for me."

The guitarist easily slid off you, down your body, to grab your ankle. Damiano had moved onto the bed on your other side. Both of them smirked at each other as they slowly, slowly pulled your legs apart, keeping your knees bent, until you were fully on display. Victoria sauntered over you, not a hurry in the world, while you were already on high alert. A quick look to your side revealed Ethan, leaning against the dresser. If it hadn't been for his hard cock proudly standing between his legs, he would've looked completely unbothered. You were glad to know better.

Victoria kneeled between your legs, taking all the time in the world to study your body, letting her gaze travel from your face downwards, until it settled on your cunt. Little sighs and appreciative hums reached you. You were tempted to wiggle, somehow make someone do something, but you knew it would simply end up with the boys grasping onto your legs more tightly.

"You're basically drenched, baby. Did that picture turn you on so much? The idea of all of us naked around you? Or have you been waiting for this for a while, just walking around in a constant state of arousal, dying for us to take pity on your and fuck you good?"

You didn't know if she expected an answer, and you weren't sure if you were able to give her one, but when her fingers touched your clit ever so briefly before travelling to your hole, any idea of forming words was out of the window anyway. Without warning, two fingers plunged into you, stretching you easily, and Damiano and Thomas fought to keep your legs still, as they threatened to kick out over the sudden intrusion. Victoria curled her fingers inside of you, and when she removed them, looking at you with a grin, you realised what she was doing.

She was trying to collect as much of your wetness as possible.

Holding up her fingers, which were absolutely covered in you, she carefully climbed up your body until she came to sit on your stomach. In one sweeping movement, she let her fingers wander from the pulse point on your neck downwards towards your collarbones.

"Aw, I wanted to put some between your perfect little tits too, but I guess my fingers weren't wet enough," Victoria pouted in mock disappointment. You were already having a hard time keeping your hands by your side, but you had learned that touching her without permission often ended with even more torture.

"Good thing I can supply some as well."

In awe, you watched as she moved herself up just a little, fingers performatively dancing along her belly until they dipped between her legs. Victoria touching herself was always a vision. She didn't fake anything, she would never let out a moan just for the sake of it, and it made it all the more captivating. Especially with the way her eyes never left yours, even as they slightly fluttered. When she removed her fingers again, presenting them to you, they were just as wet as they had been after she had touched you. Then, with a cocky smirk on her face, she now spread the additional fluid down your chest and between the valley of your breasts.

"I think we're getting there," she grinned. "Ethan, go grab me the polaroid camera from my dresser. This is supposed to be a photo shooting after all. Right, cucciola?"

You weren't sure if you told her yes, or if you nodded, if a moan escaped your mouth, or if you simply unravelled under her, but as Ethan was busy turning the dresser upside down by the sounds of it, Victoria leaned down, not only letting you feel the wetness between her legs on your stomach now, but also easily slipping one of your nipples into her mouth. And then another sensation.

You had barely paid any attention to your legs anymore, solely focused on the bassist sitting on top of you, but suddenly you could feel lips attaching themselves to both of your calves. Little kisses, dissolving into sucking and the odd nip, wandered along them now, no rhyme or rhythm between the two, and when they reached your thighs, you couldn't help but let them fall apart, craving more, ready to give them more room.

Victoria let go of your nipple with an obscene noise, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to it until she leaned back and it broke. The whimper was unintentional. Ethan was handing her the camera now, but you barely noticed it as your eyes rolled back at the lips reaching the crux of your thighs and then, out of nowhere, a long lick against your slit.

"Well, it's not oil, but she's looking quite slick already, isn't she, Ethan?"

"Her left nipple looks very neglected. Can't have that for the photo."

You weren't sure what you expected, but it wasn't the way he positioned himself over you to spit on it, a long drop of saliva leaving his mouth and landing on your breast. Victoria made quick work of rubbing it in ever so slightly. The camera was lifted to her eye and you briefly panicked about the way you would look, the expression your face would hold, where you were supposed to look. But then a tongue probed your entrance, as another flicked your clit, and your head fell backward, all control over facial muscles lost.

Flash.

You were in too deep to care. You were about to let yourself fall, enjoying the feeling of numerous bodies on you, but then, as if on command, they all left. Victoria had sat up and moved off you, as Thomas and Damiano stood back up at the end of the bed, no hands or tongues anywhere near you anymore. You wanted to cry out at the loss, at the coldness covering you now, and your hands were pathetically reaching out for them.

"Well, what are we going to do with you? Covered in cum and spit already," Damiano smirked as he watched you. "I'd ask for your preference on who gets to fuck you first but it's not like we're going to let you decide. What do you think, Ethan?"

The long-haired man was still standing next to the bed, looking down at you as if he were ready to devour you.

"I think it's time she gets a taste of me."

He didn't move a muscle, but you were up on your knees in seconds. Whatever he was willing to do to you, you were so willing to let him. He only let you have the illusion of control for a second.

"On your hands and knees. I want your mouth on me."

You obliged immediately, getting into position in front of him. As you looked up through your lashes, absolutely submissive and ready to bend to his every wish, mouth already opening in anticipation, you could see his composure waver, if only for a second. Then his hand was in your hair, pulling you towards him with determination, and you couldn't do anything but swallow his cock. The load groan above you spurred you on, made you try to take on more, even though you knew he was still trying to control your movements. He wasn't exactly easy to deepthroat, but by god, you were willing to try. Anything to get the man to come undone.

Alternating between sucking him, and letting go to leave licks and kisses along his length, you found yourself dying to get your hands on him, touch him in any way but with your mouth, but he knew what he was doing when he put you in this position. You were tempted to move, bring your knees forward so you could free your hands, but you were well aware you weren't in charge here. So instead, you gave Ethan your worst. Hollowing out your cheeks, drawing him in, moaning around his mouth until he was shaking.

You had been concentrating on him so much, you had almost forgotten about the other three still in the room with you. It was only when a hand came down on your buttcheek, making you jump and Ethan groan at how much deeper you accidentally took him, that you realised you could hear the others moaning behind you. Then a mouth left a kiss in the same place, and before you knew it, your cheeks were being spread apart and a tongue was diving in between your folds.

You couldn't stop yourself. Letting Ethan slip out of your mouth, you clumsily looked past your shoulder to take in the view. Oh, the view. Victoria was on her knees next to the bed, head fully hidden behind your body. You didn't need to watch to know what she was doing, you felt her fingers and lips and tongue on you just fine. Damiano and Thomas were sitting on the chaise longue behind her, getting the perfect view of everything. Both of them were slowly stroking themselves, Thomas rather lazily, leaning back with his legs spread, Damiano more focused, bending forwards as if he didn't want to miss a second of the action.

Ethan didn't let you enjoy the show for long, roughly pulling on your hair to get you to turn back around.

"Eyes on me, baby," he smirked but before you had the chance to reply, he had grasped your chin, pulling your mouth open and pushing back in.

You eagerly swallowed, trying to focus on your performance, but it was impossible to ignore Victoria between your thighs. She had you writhing and moaning within seconds, much to Ethan's pleasure as well, but every time you came even close to an approaching orgasm, she would switch it up, go slower, or let go of you altogether.

Letting Ethan slip in deeper, you did your best to concentrate on him, the way he was groaning above you, hand still in your hair, taking him as far as you could without gagging. But then Victoria removed her fingers and her tongue from you, and as she continued to spread your thighs, you found yourself clenching around nothing.

"Fuck, look at her, just gagging to have something inside of her, she doesn't even care what it is."

Thomas sighed deeply, Damiano mumbled something you couldn't understand, then some fumbling and

Flash.

Fuck, you could only imagine the picture they had just taken. But then your mind was clouded with another pair of hands on your, distinctively different from Vic's, and without warning, someone pushed into you. You almost came undone right then and there and you weren't even aware of whose dick you were taking, not willing to turn around again.

But then his hips started snapping against you, movements already losing coordination in his chase for release, fingers digging deeply into your flesh, and when a whine escaped his mouth, you knew it was undeniably Thomas. A multitude of wet noises emerged from behind you and you were dying to watch, see Damiano and Victoria getting off, touching themselves as you got fucked, but Ethan held you firmly in place.

You knew he was getting close now, impressive stamina aside, but when he started twitching in your mouth, he roughly wrecked himself away. His eyes travelled away from you and you could only guess that he was locking eyes with Thomas who, as if on command, lifted you up, until you were sitting in his lap, back to his chest, while he kept pounding into you. You reached out, willing to finish him off with your hands, but Thomas clumsily grabbed your wrists instead, holding them tightly as he tried not to lose his rhythm. It seemed like no one would allow you the use of your hands that night.

Ethan was jacking himself off now, a determined look on his face as he watched your tits bounce with every thrust Thomas gave you. It didn't take long when Thomas found the perfect spot inside of you, hitting it until you were nothing but putty in his arms, head thrown back and jaw falling open. Two, three more strokes, and Ethan came, spilling all over your breasts and stomach. You barely got the time to register it, revel in the feeling, when Thomas pushed you forward onto your hands again.

He rammed into you quickly now, and hard, and you had trouble keeping yourself up as you let him use you. His whines became louder, hands losing his grip on your hips, craving that orgasm the way you were. You wanted more, more perfect touches to the right spot inside of you, more feeling, any pressure against your clit, but you weren't getting anything and suddenly Thomas' dick slipped out of you, and with a determined hand on your back, he kept you in position, as his orgasm took over and you could feel him come all over your lower back, dripping down onto your buttcheeks.

Flash.

"Fuck, you look gorgeous just covered in us," Damiano sighed. "Can't wait to get my turn."

But it wasn't him that moved onto you. Instead, Victoria pushed you onto your back once again, skin uncomfortably sticking to the fabric underneath you thanks to Thomas, but even as the filthy feeling took over you, all you could do was moan at the sensation.

"You just love us using you, don't you? Getting all our pleasure from you while you just take it, whining, not getting any release," Victoria hummed before kissing you, passionately and deeply. You mewled under her, welcoming the attention and the love. It didn't last for long.

In one swift movement, she let go of you, throwing her leg over one of your thighs, sitting down on it. You could feel her wetness against your skin immediately. She didn't hesitate, instantly starting to slowly move up and down your thigh, a smirk on her face as she watched you. She looked like a goddess, naked and unhinged on top of you, starting to throw her head back as she increased her speed, and you didn't notice your hands were on her tits until she ceased all movements.

"Someone's getting a little handsy," she teased, briefly grabbing onto your hands to give her own breasts a squeeze under them, a content sigh on her lips, then taking them off her body completely. "Looks like I might need some help keeping her restrained."

You looked over at the boys again, trying to anticipate what was coming next, gauging their reactions. Ethan had joined the other two now, and in contrast to Thomas, who looked happily fucked out and ready to fall asleep, he was alert and watching with curious eyes. Damiano seemed to be on the brink of losing his mind, now more than ever, unable to keep his hands off his hard cock. He didn't wait for another suggestion, quickly climbing onto the bed next to you.

"Now what do we do with you?" He grinned, voice betraying the calm and collected impression he was trying to make. "Do you need me to hold you still? Because you can't fucking behave for one second and not touch Victoria as she's riding your thigh? Or do I need to distract you altogether, hm? Maybe put your hands on my cock so you can do something useful with them?"

You couldn't help but moan at his words, too overwhelmed with the images he was creating in your head. Then Victoria started moving again, gliding her wet folds against you, and suddenly it was you on the verge of losing your mind. Damiano's hand was on your chin immediately, roughly pulling your face towards him.

"Looks like someone doesn't know how to behave or answer questions, so I'm going to make that decision for you."

It didn't take long to figure out what he meant, as he grabbed onto the hand closest to him and wrapped it around his cock. You eagerly complied, moving up and down his shaft, but he seemed dissatisfied. With a grunt, he pulled your hand off, opening up your palm to spit into it, before putting it back, moaning at the sensation of slick wetness around his dick. You did your best to keep a rhythm, tracing along the veins, thumbing as the head, before fully covering him again. But your concentration wavered when Victoria started getting louder.

She was wildly bucking against you now, hair swaying as she moved, eyes closed and mouth open and it was impossible not to look. With a particular forward motion, her knee brushed against your cunt, not even hitting any particular spot, but it had you mewling and sighing, starved for touch and release. She noticed with a smirk, and on the next move, she made sure to do it again, on purpose now, more skin against you, just that tiny bit more friction, as her knee lodged itself between your legs.

Apparently, Damiano had noticed where your focus had drifted off to, leaning over to see the way your wetness was gathering on Vic's knee.

"Fuck please tell me I'm still getting some of that," he groaned, rutting his hips against your hand, but stopped when Victoria's moans rose in volume.

She was moving more quickly now, fingers clawing into your skin as she chased her release, hair wild and eyes closing as she unashamedly gasped. You couldn't keep your eyes off her, Damiano's dick still hard and heavy in your hand but neglected as you watched her. The loss of control was imminent, and with one more perfect feeling of friction against your thigh, she came apart, moaning wildly, riding it out on you and you were dying for a touch, for her hands between your legs, for any sort of help to get to the same place.

It didn't take her long to return to her usual self, smirking back down at you, hair all over the place, and with one swift action she was off your thigh. You missed her heat and wetness immediately. She turned to Damiano, whose gaze was still solely trained on your soaked thigh and pussy, grinning.

"Suit yourself," Victoria grinned, switching places with Damiano as she knelt next to you on the bed. One of her hands was smoothing down your hair as she looked at you with a mixture of adoration and assertion, then, suddenly distracted, she grabbed the small polaroid camera from the nightstand. "Just make sure you get a picture first."

You only just managed to watch the way she tossed the item at him for a second, before she grabbed onto your face, pulling on your lower lip to get you to open up, and immediately let her tongue enter your mouth. The kiss was filthy, noisy, and you couldn't get enough. Your hands wandered onto her head, grasping at her hair, almost amazed she let you use your hands for once.

Flash.

The sound of the camera tumbling onto the carpet with a thick thud distracted you, and Damiano made use of the fact that you wrecked your mouth from Victoria's, aligning himself and pushing into you roughly. His low groan matched the cry you let out. Your hands were trying to reach him, trying to touch, but Victoria pinned them down onto the bed with a grin.

"Oh no, baby, no touching."

You struggled against her, back arching off the bed as Damiano fucked you, feeling so full but desperate for more friction where you needed it. You were writhing shamelessly now, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, then you turned your head, the chaise longue back in view. If you hadn't been so preoccupied with getting pounded into the mattress, you would have giggled. While Ethan was watching the scene with determined eyes, already growing hard again, Thomas had all but collapsed, head on the armrest, fast asleep. But this was no time for laughing.

Damiano was rapidly turning into a whiny mess, a handclumsily grabbing onto your breasts as he increased his thrusts. All you could do was moan and take it. He was hitting you deliciously, but none of it was quite enough.

"Come on, Damiano, I think we need one more picture," Victoria grinned. She was still tightly holding onto your wrists, but her thumbs had started softly stroking the skin. You weren't sure if she was aware, but you appreciated it all the same. "Why don't you go paint her face... you know, like she's your Mona Lisa?"

Ethan audibly snorted next to you, obviously not impressed by her questionable sense of humour, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but pant and wait. Yet, Damiano didn't seem opposed to the idea. A couple more fucks fell from his lips, then he pulled out, and you wanted to sob at the emptiness inside you. He shuffled upward, leaning over you, one, two, three strokes. You only just managed to close your eyes in anticipation, before it hit you while Damiano came with low groans.

It was Victoria going back to petting your head that made you open your eyes again, just in time for one last flash. You didn't realise that the tears had started flowing until she gently wiped them away.

"Still doing okay, honey?"

You were nodding feverishly through it, someone was cleaning your face with some tissue, and all you knew was love, so much love for these people, for the way they knew exactly how to treat you, for the way they were taking care of you, always.

"I just need to come," you finally sobbed. "Please, please."

Everyone seemed to move all at once. You barely registered Victoria ordering the others into positions, waking Thomas back up in the process, but you didn't really care. All you needed was to come undone, and you knew they were going to get you there. Someone's lips were on yours and you quickly recognised them to be Damiano's, only indulging you for a second. The grasp on your wrists tightened again, holding them over your head, but it was comforting rather than restricting, knowing you wouldn't have to do anything but lie back and get taken care of. Someone moved between your legs and then your ankles were being held again, spreading you out and keeping you still.

"Open your eyes, baby," Victoria softly murmured to you. "Watch."

You obeyed with difficulty, glancing down at the scene. Ethan in front of you, Thomas and Damiano to your left and right. The drummer held eye contact, staring at you so intensely you were sure he could see into your soul, as he slowly pushed in. Chants of yes, yes, yes fell from your lips, your walls clenching around his dick, completely fulfilled, knowing this time they would let you come. Ethan carefully picked up speed, angling himself in just the way that had you shouting for him, hands struggling against Vic's grasp as she left tiny kisses on them. You could already feel the sensation building in you, having spent so much time pleasing and receiving but never getting any release. Ethan's thrusts were perfectly timed, hard and forceful, and all you needed was just a little more.

"Touch her, Thomas."

You were already crying out at Victoria's words, but when he followed her suggestion, long fingers sneaking between your legs and onto your clit, you were screaming. Your mind was clouding, eyes closing on their own account, as you took in the pleasure. Your body was spasming, legs trying to kick out, but everyone's hold on you kept you in place, kept you in the perfect position. Hair was sticking to your forehead now. Hips buckling against Ethan as you chased your release. You couldn't be sure what sounds were leaving your mouth anymore, fully drowning in your own arousal.

And then it hit.

You came loudly and unashamedly, clenching around his cock, back arching, head thrown back. Your orgasm was holding onto you with force, travelling through your whole body, goosebumps appearing in its wake. For a moment, you were convinced you were going to black out, shuddering through it. It was like your body wasn't your own anymore, taken over my absolute pleasure, and you were convinced you had never felt this sublime in your life. Ethan's groan alerted you of his own orgasm, and finally, finally, you gave in, quieting down, limbs completely boneless as you sunk into the mattress.

Everything was a blur. Ethan pulling out. Thomas removing his fingers. The grasp on your ankles and wrists loosening. Their touch leaving you altogether, only for a moment. Then wipes and towels on your body, cleaning you up, calming you and comforting you at the same time. You didn't know how much time was passing, but suddenly someone lifted you up, easily carrying you away from the bed, and then hot water engulfed you. It was perfect.

You took another moment before you fully opened your eyes again, focusing on the people around you. Seeing slight signs of worry, you did your best to send all of them a serene smile, one by one, painted by exhaustion but perfectly honest. Ethan bent down to you, a soft kiss pressing to your forehead. All you could do was lean into it. Damiano followed, then Thomas. When Victoria stepped up to the bathtub, you lazily let one of your hands travel out of the water, and weakly grasp onto her wrist.

"Can you get in with me? I don't want to be alone right now."

Her smile was all you needed to scoot forward, making some space for her. She slipped in behind you, pulling you against her chest, between her legs, until you were fully engulfed by her. The bathroom was quiet now, you hadn't even noticed the others leave or close the door behind them.

You cuddled into Victoria, melting into her embrace and the water around you. She held you close, arms wrapped around you, and left little kisses on your cheek, your neck, the parts of your shoulders that were sticking out of the water. You slowly but surely felt yourself coming back to earth.

A crash from the other side of Victoria's flat interrupted your peaceful moment, causing both of you to erupt into giggles.

"What on earth was that?" You asked, softly, still exhausted.

"It better be the guys changing the sheets and not them fighting over who gets to stare at your photos first."

You couldn't help letting another bubble of laughter ripple through you.

"Hope they're any good. The pictures, I mean. I'm not exactly used to being in front of a camera. Much less when I'm in that kinda position."

Victoria grabbed your chin, turning your head around to silence your doubts with a deep kiss.

"You were perfect. And so hot. You know what?"

You only let out a hum, waiting for her reply as you almost felt yourself drifting off.

"Next time it might be me getting off to your pictures."

It was an idea you could live with very well.

***

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

Text

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

Note

Post-post-post cannon Wangxian being completely in love in the cloud recessess as teenagers who time travelled back to their own 16-17 year old bodies on accident.

In love. Wangxian are in love. In love. Just smooph and fluff.

Like they're effortlessly in love. (No matter how much Jiang Cheng yells and ties to control Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian casually refuses to hear any of it, as he'd been ignoring Jiang Cheng's homophobia and hate forever by the time they both came back by accident. )

Also wwx doesn't hide his genius and every one around him is like senpai *heart eyes* (honestly he's almost forgotten how to hide his effortless genius.)

(Just FYI, don't have to include this: this Wei Wuxian has long since come to terms with all his war and Sunshot and Shiji related trauma— just FYI.)

I just want to read as much of the smooph, smushy fluff and love you can stomach writing please.

Extra points if you can show them both just effortlessly and absentmindedly flirting.

(You don't have to incude this, but: They just take like a weekend off and go raze the main Wen family to the ground casually— back late with Starbucks— "We were night hunting. What do you mean the Wen family died? So sad. We feel so bad. Don't we feel bad?" " Mm. Feel bad.")

Thank you so much for existing in this fandom. I love your fics. I love you. 💖

Xichen is proud of his brother but he can't deny that he is sometimes concerned for him as well. Wangji is a dedicated and accomplished disciple but he is isolated from his peers. Xichen has friends and confidants but Wangji is simply content to be by himself.

That is concerning, even for a Lan.

He had hopes that incoming disciples would manage to shake him up a little but that hope didn't last long. Year after year, Wangji continued to remain aloof, not expressing any interest in the disciples.

But something has changed this year. Xichen didn't even know what was going on until a few weeks into the introduction of the guest disciples.

He spots them by chance. Young Master Wei is cheerfully waving at a vendor, his smile wide and bright, ensnaring the old woman's entire attention.

Wangji is right by him, Bichen in one hand but the other…

The other is placed on the small of Wei-gongzi's back.

Xichen watches as they move on from the vendor. He sees how Wangji seems to shield Wei-gongzi from the crowd, angling his body slightly to ensure his companion can walk freely.

It is a gesture of protectiveness. It is a gesture of possession.

Xichen studies their body language carefully. Wangji seems content to follow Wei-gongzi around, his expression closed but gentle. There are no frosty glares or pursed lips. His brother, for once, looks entirely relaxed. Everything about him is loose and easy underneath all of his Lan elegance. His shoulders slope gently, his spine isn't as rigid, and his walk is steady.

The First Jade has never seen his brother look so settled.

Wei Wuxian seems happy too, his smile incandescent and lovely. Almost as tall as Wangji, the boy is the very antithesis of his brother. While Wangji is sedate and content, Wei Wuxian is nearly bursting with energy and joy. His silver eyes sparkle in the sunlight and his long hair sways with every movement of his body.

Xichen's heart softens at the glimpse of such open beauty. There's certainly something alluring about Young Master Wei. He seems to suffuse his surroundings with happiness.

There's something in the air around them.

Despite his lively mind wandering from one stall to another, Wei-gongzi always finds his way back to Wangji, looking at him with a hopeful smile and a cheerful comment.

His brother's expression is unfamiliar to him. Wangji looks like his entire world is smiling up at him.

'Is this love?' He wonders to himself as he watches his brother gently pull Wei-gongzi out of a running child's way. He doesn't miss how the touch lingers, fingers curling slightly around the slender wrist before pulling away.

There are many eyes following Wangji and his friend, and all of them have indulgent expressions. The people of Caiyi town have seen Wangji since he was a child. They know him and his nature well enough.

Xichen suspects they're just as happy to see Wangji roaming the markets leisurely as a pretty butterfly flutters around him.

"Is that Lan Wangji?" Nei Mingjue observes, stepping up beside him.

Xichen nods, "And his friend, Wei Wuxian."

"Hm," his friend says, "I've been hearing that name a lot recently. They say the only reason Jin Zuxian beat him in the rankings is because of his looks."

Xichen chuckles at Mingjue's tone, "Ah, Da-ge, you must hate that."

His friend rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his tea. "How do looks matter when you're facing down Fierce Corpses?"

"From what shufu says, Young Master Wei is Wangji's equal in many ways." Shufu had been wary at first, wondering what sort of chaos the son of Cangse Sanren would bring to Cloud Recesses. So far, Wei Wuxian has proven to be a mischievous but brilliant student. "He challenges shufu in class. They end up having loud, angry debates," Xichen chuckles because he knows his uncle, despite all appearances, loves being stimulated, "He mentions the boy often." There's a comment about Wei Wuxian almost every time he has tea with his uncle.

He looks at the two younger master's thoughtfully, "I didn't expect this."

"Are they courting?" Nei Mingjue asks bluntly, "Because your little brother is acting like a husband already."

Xichen stills and looks at the pair again. That is what's off about their body language. They move around each other confidently, not like a young couple in fresh blooms of love.

There are no tentative glances, awkward touches, and hyperawareness. Wangji touches Wei Wuxian like it is his right. Like he is confident that his touch is welcome and desired.

For a moment, he feels a pang of worry. Xichen looks at Wei Wuxian, studying him carefully to see if there's any sign of strain or distress.

He finds nothing. Wei-gongzi responds to every gesture of affection like a flower blooming under the Sun.

"Ah." He realizes, "You think…?"

"Strong bonds form quickly between cultivators with matching potential." Nei Mingjue observes, "It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Your brother looks a little too enamored for this to be a teenage fancy."

Well, isn't this an interesting development?

---

"Your hair looks nice," Nie Huaisang says, hiding a smile behind his fan. Wei-xiong always looks good but there's something particularly radiant about him now. He seems to stand a bit taller, carry himself with a bit more confidence. His gestures seem stronger, somehow carrying more authority than before.

But the hair intrigues him. There's a glittering silver hairpiece in it and the strands of ebony are tied up in a neat style.

Neater than Wei-xiong's usual style. While Huaisang is certain Wei-xiong is perfectly capable of making himself as elegant as the Jades of Lan, he usually doesn't bother.

This was done by someone else's careful, loving, hand.

Jiang Yanli isn't at Cloud Recesses and Jiang Cheng would rather burn his own hands than show even an ounce of love towards his shixiong - something pricks when he thinks about that.

So there's someone else, someone willing to comb Wei-xiong's hair until every strand is glossy and straight, before tying it up with a silver and jade pin that looks expensive.

Wei-xiong is courting- no, he corrects himself, watching his friend wave enthusiastically at Lan Wangji, 'Wei-xiong is being courted.'

Wangji-xiong bows to his brother and walks towards Wei-xiong, his gaze softer than usual. His friend is smiling widely and immediately dissolves into excited chatter. Wangji-xiong doesn't seem bothered, just nodding occasionally and watching with indulgent patience.

There's something entirely lovely about the way Wangji-xiong's eyes remain fixed on Wei Wuxian's face. It is like nothing else is more important to him than Wei-xiong's smile and cheerful voice.

Standing together in the courtyard, both clad in white and glowing under the warm light of the morning sun, they look stunning. Huaisang's romantic heart sighs at the sight.

"What is he doing?" Jiang Wanyin hisses and Huaisang looks at him, startled by his icy tone, "I can't believe he's making a nuisance of himself again!"

"Jiang-gongzi-"

"Wei Wuxian! What are you doing, messing around?"

The loud voice catches almost everyone's attention. Wei-xiong looks over his shoulder and Wangji-xiong's expression turns frosty, all warmth draining from it immediately.

"Aiya, Jiang Cheng," Wei-xiong grins but it doesn't have that sheepish, placating quality that Huaisang had seen before, on those rare occasions he visited Lotus Pier with his da-ge. This grin was full of confidence and almost... dismissal. "Why are you angry now?"

Was that tone... mocking?

Huaisang's lips twitch as Jiang-gongzi swells further with rage, "Wei Wuxian! How can you be so shameless? Imposing yourself on Lan Wangji, always trying to distract him. Think of our sect's reputation for once!"

"Do not speak for me." Wangji-xiong's voice is icy and it cuts Jiang-gongzi's rant short immediately, "Wei Ying is free to seek me out whenever he wishes. No one may stop him."

And that seems to be that. Wei-xiong laughs and Wangji-xiong guides him away gently like he's someone delicate and not the strongest cultivator of their generation.

But, Huaisang muses, even strong people deserve gentleness.

---

"Da-shixiong! Show us that one again," A Jiang disciple demands and Wangji looks up from his work. He has clear sight of the training ground from where he's sitting. Wei Ying is standing in the middle, surrounded by a few Jiang and Lan disciples.

They're all looking at him in adoration.

Wangji feels a flood of amusement and sets his work aside, content to take a small break. It is always a treat to see his husband in his element; teaching people and nurturing young minds. They may be back in their teenage bodies, but their soul is much older.

Wei Ying, with his natural ability to charm juniors and his hard-earned wisdom, is the perfect teacher.

"It is amusing to see you so smitten," Wangji looks up to see his brother smiling at him, "Wei-gongzi must be very special, yes?"

His brother probably aims to fluster him, he is so fond of teasing Wangji. But Wangji had been Wei Ying's husband for more than a decade before an accident sent them back in time. He is no longer flustered or overwhelmed by his feelings. "Very special," He agrees, unable to help glancing back at his beloved, "Very lovely."

Xichen chuckles, "He is indeed lovely." His expression turns sly, "Do I need to speak with Uncle? Betrothal negotiations may be complicated in this case."

Wangji remains unphased, "You may," He says calmly, much to his brother's surprise, "Wei Ying will marry into the Lans. Give no concession to the Jiangs. He is just their Head Disciple, not the part of the family."

"Wangji," His brother breathes, "You're that invested?"

"Un. Will marry Wei Ying. Give him a better life. A life of dignity, freedom, and respect. Free of unnecessary debt that no one should foist on a child."

That is enough for Xichen to understand. His gaze turns solemn and he looks at Wei Ying carefully, "If that is what you wish, brother, you will have it."

---

Wangji feels his heart still when he steps into the library pavilion. He gazes at the scene before him, feeling the stiff formality of his expression melt away.

Wei Ying is beautiful, sitting there and reading peacefully. The evening sunlight envelopes him, giving him an ethereal glow. He traces his husband's features, feeling something akin to desperate love. It has been so since he saw this face and this body. Mo Xuanyu didn't lack beauty and Wei Ying's radiant personality had only added to it.

But this is Wei Ying's true body.

Helplessly drawn, he steps forward. "Xingan."

Wei Ying looks up, startled to hear such an endearment aloud. Immediately, his face is aglow with a pretty blush even as he laughs teasingly, "Lan Zhan! Don't be so bold!"

He walks towards Wei Ying and settles down by him, closer than truly appropriate but this is his husband. "Research?"

Wei Ying smiles, drawing Wangji's attention to his lips. There's no one in the library so Wangji permits himself the touch, reaching forward to gently caress them, "Such beauty." He whispers.

Wei Ying blushes again, "Er-gege," He protests, "Have mercy on my heart."

His fingers slide under Wei Ying's jaw, drawing him in gently. His husband is sweet and compliant as Wangji kisses him, an innocent brush of lips and nothing more. "My Wei Ying." His voice is low, heated in ways Wei Ying recognizes. He watches as those enchanting silver eyes brighten with passion.

His Wei Ying buries his warm face in his neck with a moan of protest, "Mercy, husband. You're so cruel to tease me like this when you can't take me to bed."

It is indeed a challenge to not have their 'everyday' but Wangji can be patient. Xiongzhang is already working on it.

For now, he is content.

They sit like that for a long time, Wei Ying leaning against him, trusting and calm. No one disturbs them and Xichen only stops by once, smiling knowingly in their direction and pointedly ignoring Wangji's restraining hand around Wei Ying's waist, stopping him from pulling away.

They spend the rest of the evening exchanging soft murmurs and softer kisses.

Nothing will stand in their way this time.

#short prompts #wangxian #wei wuixan #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie huaisang #anti jiang cheng

600 notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years

Note

this is so completely random and unprompted (sense the sarcasm as the tommy thighs live in my mind rent-free since the first pic of pants-less tom content) but would you please indulge me with a thigh riding blurb with some dom!tom vibes? maybe a bit of praise k*nk in there, too, if that floats your boat? soft!dom!tom...oui. anyways love u + thanks for letting me sin bye <3

his thighs... they’re just something else. i think i was possessed when i wrote this lmao. wc: 2k // 18+ content minors dni!!!!!!

extended warnings ↠ slight dom!tom + praise kink, thigh riding. tom holland’s thighs, because they deserve a warning of their own.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re bored.

Tom’s house out in Atlanta is huge, and when he’s not stowed away in the office doing online press, there’s never normally a dull moment. You usually find some way to entertain yourself, be that pestering your boyfriend for attention or filling your time with work. Just, it’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and Tom’s been away all day.

After spending the morning catching up with friends and refreshing social media until you have the spinning reload sign flashing behind your eyes, you resort to texting Tom. Down in the office—or the press room, as he’s come to call it—his phone is on silent, so you don’t need to worry about interrupting something. He’s been trading selfies with you all day, providing small snapshots of his socks, his hair, his setup whenever he catches a break. The little teases have only made your yearning worse.

Y/N: when do you finish? Y/N: I’m bored and I miss you :(

You lay back on your bed as you wait on a response, chewing your lip slightly as your hands play with the sheets. Your expression darkens as you look to the side, seeing the throw pillows discarded on the floor and remembering intimate times gone by.

You’ve been in a mood all day, the space between your legs warm. Every time you get bored, your mind wanders, and you’ve been very bored today. The front of your panties feels damp, your body tortured by the memories of last night. It’s a never-ending montage of Tom’s hair brushing your neck, his lips on your breasts, his greedy hands grabbing at your waist. You almost moan as you remember how he’d held you down last night and made love to you until you’d cried, your skin slick with sweat and your mind gone too. He never fails to bring you to the heights of pleasure you’d never thought existed.

Tom: on a break just now if you want to come down Tom: think there’s ten minutes before the next one x

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the office, your feet moving of their own accord. When you open the door, Tom glances back, and you feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

He looks good. Tom is handsome, and you always enjoy looking at him, but with his torso covered in a tight black shirt and blazer and his hair styled in loose waves on the top of his head, he looks incredibly dashing. He flashes you a mischievous smile as he reaches up to pull the AirPods from his ears, his Rolex glinting beneath the bright studio lights that illuminate his setup.

“Afternoon, darling,” he says. He turns in the chair, swinging an arm over the back of it as he watches you enter the room, closing the door behind you. “How are you?”

You bite your lip, shameless eyes skating over his form. Tom stands to greet you, and your eyes widen, falling to his bare legs. “Why are you half-naked?” you ask, the tip of your nose scrunching up as you chuckle. You meet him in the centre of the room, wrapping your arms around his warm torso before pulling him in for a light hug, being mindful of his pressed suit.

“Comfier,” he explains. “Too hot in all of that. Gets fucking boiling in here.” Tom’s hands smooth up to your hair, and he gently coaxes you from his chest, peering down at you with those brown eyes you love so much. “Gimme a kiss, lovie.”

Eager to feel him, you step closer and lean in, finding his lips in an easy kiss. The moment your mouth makes contact with the soft warmth of Tom’s pillowy lips, you feel yourself melt, the heat coming back to your core almost immediately. You reach up and drape your arms around his neck, getting in as close as you can as you part your lips, licking over his lower lip until he takes the bait and easily slips his tongue into your mouth.

Tom grunts when you play with the back of his hair, tugging on his strands as your tongues glide together. His hands are on your waist, and you find yourself moaning into his mouth when he slips his fingers beneath your shirt and lets them roam all over your figure. As he kisses you, his hands shift up your torso, lingering at your breasts and groping them eagerly.

“No bra?” he moans against you. You whimper as he brushes his thumbs over your nipples, making him chuckle. “Fuck, love,” he murmurs, “eager today, aren’t you?”

You pull away from him, panting for breath. “Yeah,” you admit, not even trying to be coy about it. Time is of the essence, and you know exactly what you want. One of Tom’s warm hands skates down your figure, and your abdomen flexes as his fingers trail over your skin, his blunt fingernails lightly tickling your stomach as he travels to your cunt. “Tom,” you say, voice catching. “Please.”

He’s teasing you, eyes on your face as he slides his hand beneath your shorts and teases his fingers over the front of your panties. With a torturously light touch, he rolls his index finger over the front of your slit.

“God,” he murmurs, leaning in to roughly kiss your jaw. “You’re soaked.”

Your eyes threaten to roll back as he rubs you over the cotton, touch light but enough to bring you the smallest amount of pleasure. You grab at his firm bicep, a choked whine travelling up your throat.

“Tom.”

“Mmm? What do you want, darling? You know we don’t have much time.” Tom’s got a dark glint in his eyes, and it only deepens when he finally shifts your panties to the side and lets his fingers envelop your silky folds. You gasp when he dips his index and middle fingers down to your entrance, pushing into the warmth of your arousal before spreading it up to your bud. He’s quick to tease your clit, cooing softly as you struggle to speak. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I want to give you what you want, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what that is.”

“Fuck me,” you ask, voice catching as he speeds up his circles.

“No time, darling.” Tom frowns when he sees you pout, and with the hand not between your legs, he reaches up to play with your lower lip. After a moment’s contemplation, he slips his fingers into your mouth. You suck them in further, glad for their heavy presence weighing down your tongue and enjoying how their girth muffles your moans. “I have an idea. C’mere.”

Before you have time to complain, Tom has pulled away from you, leaving your aching cunt alone and your mouth empty. He walks to the green sofa in the back of the room and collapses onto it with ease, smirking up at you as he parts his legs. He looks wide and domineering, spread out, awaiting you, with his bare thighs rippling and on display. His muscles are clear and defined, packed tight in firm ridges against his golden skin. Just the sight of him patting one of them with his hand is enough to make you salivate.

“Ride it,” he encourages, beckoning you forth with a smirk. He tilts his watch towards his face, squinting as he stares at the metal. “You have three minutes to cum, or you’ll need to wait. I won’t be finished for another two hours.”

Eyes widening, you move over to him, pausing in front of your boyfriend to push down your shorts and your panties. Tom reaches out for you, his warm palms sinking into the curves of your hips as he helps you into his lap. He sits up against the sofa, reaching down to grab at your shirt as you work on straddling his thigh. You settle over his left leg, a loud moan trembling up your throat as you lower yourself and your slit presses against the firmness of his skin.

“Oh,” you moan, tossing your head back. Tom pulls your shirt over your head, his face dropping down until he’s able to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You cry out as you slowly grind down against his leg, his skin quickly getting coated in the arousal that covers your slit. Each time he nibbles your nipple, he follows up the action with a warm lap of his tongue, and the noises you elicit rise in pitch.

“Pretty girl,” Tom murmurs, leaving your chest and replacing his mouth with a hand. The other goes to your hip, and he helps you swirl your hips a little faster, his eyes almost black. “Look so fucking hot getting off on my leg, darling. So needy.” His accent is prominent as he watches you, smirking. “You’re my needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You fall forwards, panting into his neck as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Tom’s lips kiss the top of your head, grounding you as the pleasure starts to build. There’s an indescribable warmth spreading across your core, stemming from where your clit rubs up against his muscular thigh. The pleasurable burn of the friction makes you whimper.

“Yeah,” you pant, after taking a few moments to muster your breath. You gasp when Tom tenses his leg, his muscular thigh pressing up against you. “Fuck,” you whimper. “Feels so good, Tom. You’re so strong.”

He’s rolling both hands over your hips now, and one of them slips up to trace across your bare back. He holds you tightly to his chest, even as your breathing becomes irregular, continuing to guide your movements as you grow uneven. You can feel your orgasm twisting in the pit of your stomach, feel the temperature of your blood rising as it builds between your legs. With each grind of your wet cunt against his thigh, the pressure builds, every part of you aching for release.

“My darling girl,” Tom murmurs. “Are you going to make a mess all over my leg?” When you release a clouded moan, he chuckles. “I know you are. It’s okay. I can feel you squirming, baby. I know you can’t wait.” He drops his voice, rasping into your ear as you shake in his lap. “Go on, love. Be a good girl and let go. Get my thigh all wet. There you go.”

Your jaw slackens, and his words push you over the edge. You squirm over Tom’s sturdy thigh, glad for his strong hands on your hips as they guide your movements when you get lost in the pleasure. Your moans intersperse with his name, and you collapse against him as your high rolls across you, flooding you with intense, pulsing pleasure.

“There you go,” he murmurs, kissing over the side of your face until you eventually pry yourself away from him. Tom smiles at you, dragging his lips across your cheek to find your lips. It’s a sweeter kiss, and you pour in your gratitude. “Sweet girl.”

Your lips twitch into a smile as you look up at him, appreciating the lines of his handsome face and the adoration that sparkles in his eyes.

“Thank you,” you say. “I—”

Both of you startle as a ringing sound cuts through the air, and you turn around to see the computer on the desk lighting up with an incoming call.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom mutters. He kisses you, briefly but with intention, then stumbles to his feet. “How do I look?”

You follow him to your feet, quickly pulling on your clothes before walking to him. “Perfect,” you say, once you’ve adjusted the collar of his suit jacket. You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good luck, handsome.”

Tom nods, eyes skittering across your form. He shoots you a wink before falling back into the chair, looking over his shoulder at you as you walk towards the door. “Be ready for later,” he calls out. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#suffering #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #smut #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth

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arhvste · 4 years

Text

❝ the morning after pt.II ❞

ft : tsukishima kei, kuroo tetsurō, akaashi keiji and ojiro aran

warnings : sfw but suggestive - implied sex [night before]

TSUKISHIMA KEI

-> he will act like nothing happened

-> last night he called you his ‘pretty baby’ while on your knees?

-> no he didn’t <3

-> he will wake up and go about his morning as normal

-> it’s not a big deal to him

-> what is a big deal?

-> his size

-> meaning you’re a little bit bed ridden

-> so he will causally slip a glass of water and pain killers your way

-> “good morning weirdo”

-> “you make me ache and this is how you greet me? i’m finding a new boyfriend >:(“

-> “you asked for it, i gave it to you, don’t act like this is my fault idiot”

-> he has a point because you did ask for it sigh

-> however he does acknowledge you are in slight agony

-> and he will silently sympathise with that

-> and run you a bath

-> “aw you do care about me!”

-> “no it’s because you smell like shit”

-> yeah defiantly not because he knows baths help with muscle aches or whatever

-> definitely not the reason he’s running you a bath

-> and also not the reason he gets in to join you to massage your muscles a little

-> “i’m just making sure you wash yourself properly, i don’t want this to be a waste of water”

-> just say you wanna spoil the love of you life and go omg

-> defiantly only dries you and your hair for you because he wants to make sure you do it properly too

-> not because he feels a little bad and is spoiling you, oh no definitely not

-> he feels bad internally

-> he won’t apologise though because you did ask for it

-> but he will show his sympathy through actions rather than words

-> and he will absolutely take care of you until you’re feeling better and the pain resides a little

KUROO TETSURŌ

-> before you even wake up you know he’s going to be annoying sigh

-> from the second your eyes crack open, you’re already being held tightly in his arms keeping you warm

-> when you try to pry yourself from him he starts to stir awake

-> “what are you doing?”

-> “currently? freeing myself from my boyfriends unnecessarily tight grip that could end up being my cause of death”

-> “you didn’t seem to have a problem last night when i was even close to you than-”

-> “speak another word and i get up and leave this bed now”

-> “that’s if you can get up >:)”

-> you throw a pillow at him to shut him up and turn the other way

-> his arms are already back around you though as he coos apologises and cackles at your annoyance

-> he will keep the two of you like that in the early morning hours before taking it upon himself to go and make you breakfast

-> “hey, i’ll go make us something to eat, you go shower and make sure to pee, i know you did last night after we finished but go pee again because i’m not exactly on the small side and i could’ve pushed more bacteria up there so-”

-> “i know oh my! just gO!”

-> he smiles at you and leaves to go to the kitchen to go and cook

-> after you’ve had your long and well deserved shower (and pee) you sit at your vanity with one of his shirts pulled over your head

-> he’ll come up with two plates in hand and set them down

-> he’s already eaten half of his food because you were taking a while in the shower :,)

-> but that’s okay because you get to eat your breakfast at your vanity while he takes care of drying your hair through thoroughly as you eat

-> he’s annoying and he will make more than just a few jokes worth giving him a side glare for

-> but he also will take good care of you because he knows that he did tire you out and it’s the least he should do for you

-> he’s still going to be annoying though

-> but that’s why you love him

AKAASHI KEIJI

-> he’s awake by the time you wake up

-> and you’re pleasantly woken by the feeling of his fingers subconsciously drawing small circles along your neck and collarbone

-> “stop that tickles!”

-> “oh you’re awake? good morning my love”

-> presses soft kisses along your jaw until he reaches your face

-> he’ll just want to stay in bed for a while in the comfort of being with each other

-> the two of you will lay there in each other’s arms muttering sleepy ‘i love yous’ and ‘are you okay?’ to each other

-> you had sex, not a war guys stop being so sentimental sigh :0

-> he will insist upon getting you into a bath

-> he is going to spoil the shit out of you and he’s shameless in doing so

-> he believes it’s his responsibility to take care of you

-> he’ll still be a little snarky though

-> soft smirks and kisses inbetween moments

-> “so you really can’t get out of bed? >:)”

-> “shut up, you already know the answer.”

-> will get you back into bed after a bath and will bring you breakfast upstairs for the two of you to eat together

-> eventually he does hope you get up because he believes staying in bed will do you no good

-> so he will start coaxing you into getting up and to walk around the house at least to try and ease any aches

-> he won’t make you move around too much though because he does keep in mind you are still hurting just a little

-> so he’ll still be there to sit you down on the couch and bring you anything he can grab you should you need it

-> he’s just glad you got out of bed anyway because he would’ve missed you while he’s downstairs

-> very reliable boyfie

-> cares about your well-being and health all while being sexc

-> that’s not traits many possess so you’re quite lucky in the way that you have him

-> and speaking on that, please tell him you’re lucky to have him

-> because while he loves you to no ends

-> it does make his heart flutter to know he’s doing a good job

OJIRO ARAN

-> ugh king, wakes up before you and already has had his morning run and showered all before you’re awake

-> and because he’s already nicely showered and clean he hops back into bed with you to keep you warm

-> his heart melts at the feeling of your arms automatically wrapping around him

-> like?? hello?? you’re wired to look for him like that?? that’s hella cute

-> when he can feel you stirring awake, he’s already got a small smile tugging at his lips

-> “good mornin’ baby”

-> the same way his heart melts at you subconsciously hugging him, it melts at the sight of your dazed and cute morning face

-> “good morning aran”

-> he swears he’s the luckiest man alive getting to see you like this

-> and he shows it by kissing you the second you allow him

-> very slow paced and relaxed movements

-> he understands he’s not exactly blameless for the ache between your legs

-> already his hands are on your tights rubbing them gently to try and relax your muscles a little

-> “be right back, gotta grab you some pain killers and water”

-> you’ve not even been awake 5 minutes and he’s already on his best boyfie shit

-> will literally watch you take the pain killers and make sure you’re taken care of accordingly

-> he’ll get you in the shower and tell you the appropriate temperatures that are supposed to be ideal for muscles to relax

-> you ignore him and have a hot shower anyway and as you should

-> he will spend the entire morning with you just taking it easy

-> “does it still hurt?”

-> “well, you did only break my break a handful of hours ago so yeah”

-> “break your back? i penetrated you, i didn’t break your back!”

-> listen he’s doing his best for you so don’t make him feel too bad

-> and honestly he’s one of the best boyfies for aftercare

-> because yeah sex is a two person activity in this case

-> he’ll always put you first

-> meaning your comfort comes over his

-> so yeah maybe he’s a little tired but if you wanna lay on his chest then he certainly won’t stop you

-> and he’ll always pull you in closer to ensure you’re the most comfortable you can be

-> because to aran you’re the most important person in the world

-> and he’ll always drop anything and everything he’s doing to take care of you

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @tsumue @peteunderoos @tsukkisbean @saturnfarie @dear-kozume @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei @dai-tsukki-desu @angrylittleriri @dearestmegumi @kuxredere @warakou @iss6s @lovinnoya @sophiashortcake @wompwomphq @waitforitillwritemywayout @webworld @brokeasshoee @sunasbabie @rowley-with-ackerman @mjoork @trifliz @curiouslilbeast @ineedsomefoodpls

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #hq hcs #hq headcanons #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #aran ojiro #aran x reader

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confessionsof-a-writing-freak · 3 years

Text

I Don't Wanna Be a Memory

Summary:

And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385405

Rating: Explicit

Ship: James 'Bucky' Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha bucky!, Omega Steve!

Bucky’s voice is the single most dangerous weapon he possesses.

Not the guns, or the knives, or even the years of government-issued muscle memory in hand-to-hand combat could compare the carnage that rubbles and quakes the earth when he says Steve's name.

“Stevie,” Low and silky. Full of authority-full of alpha. But still understanding the difference in rank despite the apparent superiority in designation. Never challenging or speaking down, but fuck did it make Steve want to sink to his knees and watch Bucky fall apart due to his mouth for a change.

“Steve?”

Okay, maybe not the entire earth, but Steve’s world sure feels like it’s been turned on its axis.

“...Steve.”

The worst part of it all is Bucky has no idea. No clue. No motivation! He simply exists and speaks like that with no intention of letting his voice get all severe and appetizing for the purpose of getting Steve’s omega excited for Bucky's alpha.

It’s especially distracting during missions.

Steve’s heart races, his conscious thought nowhere to be found as he conjures up impossible scenarios involving his reformed assassin best friend and naked cuddling.

The second they boarded the Quinjet, Steve had torn the earpiece away as if it had burned him.

Can you imagine leading a team or keeping them safe when every so often your second in command asks for your position, voice rough as he asks Steve for orders?!

Can anyone really blame him for getting lost in the phantom sensations of Bucky saying his name like a secret no one else deserves to know?

He didn’t think so.

That being said, all the control he can muster in order to actually complete a mission evaporates into the wind the moment the dance between life and death comes to a close; every suppressed, shameless fantasy unleashed and unforgiving as they consume his every thought.

Steve is abruptly pulled from his most recent daydream when a cool metal hand taps the back of his wrist twice, “You with us, Steve? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”

Quickly, Steve straightens his back and squares his shoulders, meeting stormy grey eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. Had a lot on my mind.”, He says with more confidence than he actually has.

It’s not really a lie. He does have a lot on his mind, all the ways he can find himself face down, ass up on the other man’s bed. Drooling and crying and breathing in Buckys scent with every breath he takes.

Of course, he can’t very well say that, can he?

He was lucky the S.H.I.E.L.D issued, super soldier approved suppressants made him nearly null. He can’t fathom the level of embarrassment that would claim him if Buck- or the whole damn plane for that matter- could scent the desperation, horny inside of him.

Bucky shifts closer, grey eyes softening the tiniest bit with concern, “Is everything alright?”

No.

“Yes, of course, “ He lies, “Just thinking about battle techniques is all. Scouts honor!” Steve makes an odd, incorrect gesture as a mock salute.

Bucky allows a small huff of air Steve recognizes as his poor imitation of a chuckle. There’s a moment of fuzzy pride that nearly causes Steve to purr; happy he brought a smile to the alpha’s face before his stomach drops clear down to his toes as murmured laughter rumbles too close to a growl in Buckys chest.

“My memory may be shit, Stevie, but I know for damn sure you weren’t no boy scout.”

Aaaand there it is.

Stevie.

Steves omega stirs and preens before the captain shoves them back down. Resenting the butterflies crying out in his belly and the urge to beg Bucky to just say his name over and over and over…

“Steve?”, This time, the concern isn’t quite as subtle, “Are you sure you’re alright, pal?” Bucky takes a step closer towards the blonde, drawing out skittish blue eyes, lowering his voice in case anyone was listening.

Again, the omega clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Did you want to tell me something, Sargent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, defiance dancing on his tastebuds before something makes him snap it shut, offering a curt nod, “Yes, Captain.” His voice strained, everything he wants to say lodged in his throat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we should be landing in less than 15 minutes.”

Like before, Bucky opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Choosing instead to take a seat beside his captain, slipping his arms through the provided harness. He gives Steve a pointed look, “We should probably buckle up.”

For a moment, Steve is taken back to the war. When his body was just beginning to react to the serum and the increased suppressants. (The government had taken every percussion necessary to ensure the public wouldn’t know Captain America was an omega.)

After Steve became ‘big’ and outranked Bucky in the military, the brunette never did anything but follow him into the fire. Loyal and boundless. Never questioning his strategies or actions unless it put him in direct danger. That didn’t mean he could keep himself from telling Steve what to do. He just found different ways to do it.

Suggesting tasks, like putting on seatbelts, for instance. Strapping extra weapons to his ankles before handing one to Steve and forcing it into his hands even when the blonde would roll his eyes, whispering his disapproval so only he would hear.

Never raising his voice or permitting his tone to deepen or his scent to take on that spicy, electric feel that never failed to make Steve bare his neck. Never stepping out of line. Never disrespecting or demeaning Steves title. Always in charge anyway.

Bucky doesn’t utter a single command or request, but Steve buckles up anyhow. Drinking in the small, hardly there smile that Bucky offers to the air in front of him, not even meeting Steve’s gaze. And the omega hates the happiness, the relief he feels at satisfying Bucky.

Hates that Bucky doesn’t even have to tell him what to do for him to obey. Hates that he has to obey, even though Bucky doesn’t need him to anymore.

He doesn’t need him anymore...

Bucky still hasn’t said a word when they land, but it’s not like Steve gave him much of an opportunity.

Things have been strained between them since Steve began pulling away. Avoiding Bucky’s calls and limiting their time together.

It was just easier that way. Miserable and lonely, but easier.

The moment the Quinjet is stationary, the supersoldier is up on his feet and stomping down the runway, leaving the Avengers and Bucky behind him.

He needs to breathe.

He can’t breathe!

If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having an asthma attack. It feels like an asthma attack.

Steve’s eyes sting with unshed tears, taking large gulps of air into his lungs, and it burns!

He arrives at his door by the grace of God, not remembering entering the tower or if he passed anyone on his way.

“Jarvis. Door.” He gasps. Actual fear starting to seep into his bones.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” The AI responds, the oversized steel doors swinging open.

Distantly, Steve hears the door shut behind him and feels himself settle against a wall. He pushes his back against the surface and tries to even out his breathing. Revisiting everything he can remember about how to resolve an asthma attack.

After several attempts, he stumbles into a somewhat consistent breathing pattern, his chest heaving at a slower rate.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose…

It’s not working!

Steve’s heartbeat only hammers against his chest and neck quicker, his breathing sharply turning back into hyperventilation.

It’s then that he realizes he isn’t having an asthma attack at all. He’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. InthroughthenoseOutthroughthemouth.

Why isn’t this working!?

The blonde clenches his eyes shut, a sob fighting its way past trembling lips. He feels so alone. So unwanted, Unwarranted.

He thinks back to the 40s- back to him and Bucky. After the serum, during the war. Hidden behind the cover of night and an abandoned building at the far end of Base. The first time since the change, his heart felt like it would crawl its way up Steves throat and swan dive right off his tongue.

Struggling to ease the fogginess in his mind, Steve remembers strong arms wrapped around his waist. Cool metal poking his nose as he bumped Bucky’s dog tags with each of his movements, scenting warm flesh.

Bucky’s voice is rumbling demands, his voice leaving no room for argument while every word was also laced with patience and love. Scent projecting love, understanding, I’m here, you’re safe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

He repeats the mantra until Steve’s Omega obeyed his alpha, sucking in lung fulls of oxygen and releasing it in time with Buckys orders.

The memory of bombs and gunshots lost behind the sound of Bucky’s voice.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

He conjures up the memory of Buckys voice, coated in alpha command, urging him to breathe evenly. Fingers digging into Steve’s flushed skin, grounding him.

His alpha always knows what he needs...

Steve misses him.

Misses more than just the raw irrefutable attraction that got them into more trouble than it should have growing up. But he misses the rest of him too.

Misses the smirks and the long nights dreaming of what the future would bring. He misses Bucky’s laugh. God, he can hardly remember what it sounds like now.

Steve misses the way he would kiss. Gently. Chaste. Rough. Long. Kiss him in private and kiss him places that weren’t safe. On the stoop in front of their apartment, before the sun would come up and wandering eyes could catch them. Or alone in their bedroom, lips starting on his eyelids, across purple bruises, then down to his chest. Swallowing the omega’s moans and grinning into his mouth before settling beside him and chuckling deep into his ear, the last thing Steve would hear before sleep would overcome him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name like a prayer, wrap his lips around every letter like a caress, eyes sparkling with their love.

He misses knowing he’ll never be alone.

His heart thunders in his ears, chest feeling seconds away from crumbling in on itself as he thinks maybe it was easier when he believed the alpha was dead. Before he found out Bucky was alive, he mourned the man who loved him. Now, he grieves the love he’s lost. The alpha- his alpha-standing beside him without an ounce of affection or desire in his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t mourning the loss of Steve because he didn’t want Steve. Not anymore.

He clearly remembered enough. He may remember it all. However, knowing didn’t mean he had any intention of returning to what they had.

But even if every memory was gone, if the omega mattered at all, Bucky would remember him- his soul! If Steve himself were robbed of his past and they were just meeting again for the first time, he knew his soul would remember Buckys. Would want to know him all over, not needing to understand why!

The tears are falling before Steve has the chance to notice. A jagged whine barreling past his lips. All the weight of devastation and loneliness finally falling onto his shoulders.

Bucky had met him again. But he didn’t need him the same. Didn’t know his Omega; he didn’t want his heart.

Steve slumps further against the wall, blonde hair drenched in sweat, hands clawing at his chest, trying fruitlessly to manage his racing heart.

Closing his eyes, the omega summons an image of Bucky smiling reassuringly, soothing him as he tells him what to do.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Okay… okay. That’s better.

“It hurts to think of you,” The omega confesses to no one, the tears running past his chin onto his suit. But I need you, “And I can’t breathe without you.”

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. I’ve got you, Stevie. In and out. That’s it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Steve allows himself to sink deeper into his fantasy, swearing he could actually feel Bucky's hands running down his back and through his hair.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

It’s the last thing Steve hears before he passes out.

***

Steve is warm.

Steve’s bed has always been too soft, even after Sam suggested a firmer mattress. While helpful, he still couldn’t manage anything better than a fitful half-sleep most nights. He knew why, but in an effort to avoid further misery, he chooses not to dwell too much on that matter.

Aside from the too-soft mattress and the alpha missing from his bed, the omega was never warm enough. He shivered and reached out for body heat too far from his reach. But…

Steve is warm...

For a moment, he swears arms are around him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t care who they belong to. Because he isn’t shivering, for once. Isn’t suffering through another cold sweat, and the omega constantly pacing within him is actually settled. He hasn’t been this comfortable since the previous century, so whoever the hell is beside him can very well stay where they are, as long as he can keep this feeling.

It’s with another breath, he feels consciousness slowly creep up on him.

He almost laughs at the thought of being comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Of course, Bucky should have been his first thought, but honestly, at this point, Bucky willingly in his bed was a cruel dream.

Bucky must be using the same blockers Steve does. His Omega can’t scent him even this close, but who else’s arms fit so perfectly around him?

It’s the closest they’ve been at all since rescuing Bucky from Hydra, and Steve hated it as much as he loved it.

He wants to go back to sleep. Wants to bask in the warmth Bucky offers and pretend they’re back in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Struggling to make ends meet and unplagued by the horrors of war. Hidden from the world behind wilting wallpaper, sharing sweet kisses and bruising grips.

But this isn’t 1939. Bucky doesn’t share his bed...or his affections.

He would give anything to go back. He’d give anything to have his alpha again.

“I didn’t know you still had panic attacks.”, of course, Bucky noticed he wasn’t asleep anymore.

Steve feels him shift away, the arm around his waist, already feather-light, hardly there.

The omega within him whines, not wanting him to pull away. No, he wants him to climb on top of him. To drop all of his weight onto Steve’s hopeless body, make him stay in place. Unable to move until Bucky tells him he can...

Steve clenches his eyes tightly, suppressing his every unrelenting instinct from manifesting into something that will only push Bucky further away. And he needs him. Steve needs him, even if it is killing him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about, Buck.”, the omega remarks, his back still firmly pressed to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky may be ready to move, but Steve certainly isn’t. It’s not like the Alpha will say anything. Steve is far from perfect, despite whatever bullshit the news wants to feed the public. Steve is flawed and can be as selfish as anyone else. There are times where he permits his gaze to linger longer than it should, hands lazily pulling back when they should’ve never left his side, to begin with, or say Buckys name in the dead of night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sticky evidence of his spent weaknesses.

In private or in front of the alpha, Steve has toed the line of what is appropriate between friends and behavior shared between lovers.

Bucky has never reacted to any of it. Robotic and perfect all at once. His responses are exactly what they’re supposed to be, feeling false all the same.

Never contesting. Never reacting. As if Steve doesn’t ache for him.

It’s then that the confusion begins to twist at the recess of the omega’s mind.

“Why are you in my bed, Buck?” And how can I keep you here?

There’s a beat of silence, Bucky’s breath even beside Steve’s ear. It almost feels rehearsed, as if Bucky is concentrating on his breathing. Steve shakes the thought away before he can fool himself for the millionth time something is there that has proven again and again to be long ago dead.

“I was worried about you,” Bucky eventually admits, the arm just barely resting on Steve’s hip returning to its previous pressure, fingers hot and electrifying as they accidentally meet bare flesh peeking beneath Steve’s sleep shirt.

Sleep shirt?

“Did you change my clothes?” Steve says without thinking, saying anything to stop himself from moaning. He can’t remember the last time Buckys hands were this close to his body without explosions and frantic shouts playing in the background.

He turns his neck enough to meet Bucky’s clouded grey gaze.

A gasp falls from his lips instinctively, his own eyes widening on their own accord, taking in the receding blood red only just beginning to fade from the alpha’s eyes.

Just like that, Bucky is removing his arm entirely, releasing the Omega and taking all of that delicious warmth with him.

Bucky stays on the bed, though. His back resting against the headboard.

Steve just narrowly stops himself from shouting, ‘No! Stay, please!’, his heart pounding in his ears and his hands burning with the desire to reach out and drag the other man in.

Instead, he swallows his cries and urges his weary muscles into a sitting position, facing away from the former assassin.

While Steve was changed into something more comfortable than his uniform, the omega notices Bucky remains in his clunky tactical gear, down to his boots.

He had no intention of staying, Rogers. Take deep breaths, and give him an out.

He just needs to go.

The blonde is good at pretending. Well, most days anyway, he can fake a smile when the world is falling apart; he can pretend to be happy. But what he can’t seem to do anymore is pretend that he isn’t painfully in love with the man currently sitting on his bed, not a single reminisce of what they once were hanging between them.

He can’t manage a smile or a whisper of optimism when everything good has been taken from him. He knows what’s expected of him, but there are days when the sorrow is crippling, and he feels weaker than he ever did as that little guy from Brooklyn.

Clearly, no more talking is going to happen. And Steve isn’t emotionally stable enough right now to act as if he doesn’t want the alpha to bathe him in his scent, forcing the lingering panic, unwell, lonely away.

He moves to stand when,

“Rest.”

The order is sharp and certainly unintentional.

The shiver that races down Steve’s spine is violent, and his body locks up, ready to obey.

Turning his neck again, Steve catches the profile of the alphas annoyingly handsome face. His eyes are closed, brow pinched in concentration.

Steve stands slowly, hands shaking. It’s sickening how dreadfully good that single word made him feel. Floaty and sated. His blood, always raging, rushing, and crying out, settles within him, preparing to be taken care of.

The logical part of him reminds the omega they’ve been here before. Bucky will do something so woefully familiar, he dilutes himself into thinking he’s still wanted.

It’s never the case.

Steve keeps the hope from his tone when he challenges, “Excuse me?” Waiting for another command with bated breath.

“You should probably rest, Cap,” Bucky folds his arms across his broad chest, still ignoring Steve’s previous question as well as his gaze.

Forcing a smirk that makes him want to throw up, Steve teases, “Are you avoiding my question, Sargent?”

“Steve,” Bucky objects, voice chastizing.

Something uneasy burrows into Steve’s stomach, his body rejecting the discontent emanating off Bucky's skin.

He shrugs away the urge to whine, instead offering an ingenuine chuckle, “Jeez, I’m fine. Why so serious, Buck?”

Bucky stands, eyes hard, glaring right into Steve’s soul. The blonde sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers tingling and breath shallow.

Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Why so serious? “ The alpha growls, not moving from his spot beside Steve’s bed. The distance separating them not making sense in contrast to the intimate edge heavy in the air. It would be comical if not for the current sparking the negative space.

“We’re just gonna pretend like I didn’t find you seconds from passing out less than an hour ago? Is that something casual, am I supposed to just ignore it?”

Steve’s plastic smile fades, a tired expression painting his sharp features, “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration, “Ignore it. Like you ignore everything else, Bucky...Just go.”

“What’s tha ‘posed to mean?”

“It means I’m sorry you had to see that, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“See what? You being irresponsible?”

The thin scrap of patience the omega has evaporates; actually, it burns the fuck up, raging as loud as Steve’s fury, “Irresponsible!?”

The anger shoots through Steve like a wildfire, his temperature rising and his hands balling into fists. If the Alpha didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was going to punch him.

Even so, he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a single step towards the blonde, body tight and rigid. Voice booming when he sneers, “Yes, goddamn it! Irresponsible.”

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouts, “Who the hell are you to lecture me on being irresponsible?”

“I’m your… I’m your second in command, and if you were struggling with PTSD, you should have told me something! Instead of me following you to your rooms and basically threatening Jarvis into letting me in. You were pale, Steve. Snow White ain’t got shit on how you looked- you were nearly blue! And I’m sorry for stepping in. We can blame it on your biology, but you finally managed to relax when my alpha came forward. It’s irresponsible to let yourself get to that point when you could have come to me- or, or anyone in the avengers for help.”

“You’re sorry,” Steve scoffs, “ You’re sorry you had to help me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, but it’s what you said, isn’t it?” The Omega is nearly in hysterics. Half sad laughs, the only thing keeping him from crying.

“Steve...”

Buckys voice is now soaked in concern, the anger lost behind wisps of worried seeping from his concealed scent. Which serves only to break Steve further.

“Stevie.” Bucky repeats, wondering if Steve was spiraling into another panic attack.

He is only two steps away from him in a second, twitching, never touching but always close.

Steve feels another shock rack his entire body. His name falling from Bucky’s lips so effortlessly. The authority he holds swallowing every syllable. The sheer force of it nearly brings the omega to his knees.

Steve's heart pounds against his chest, like his heart is trying to escape. Running both hands across his face, then over tufts of blonde hair, his hands meeting behind his neck craned up towards the sky. Praying to anyone up there with mercy that Bucky will just leave. He keeps his arms where they arm before he can do something stupid like reach out.

“Bucky, why are you so concerned about it?” Steve’s eyes are still trained to the ceiling.

Steve knows he’s playing with fire. Playing with his own emotions, but sometimes he can swear he lives for it.

Bucky hesitates, watching Steve with careful eyes. “Because…You are our Captain and my best friend. If you need help, I am going to help you.”

The finality in his tone almost sounds like an alpha command, but his words contradict any sense of attraction or desire.

Another huff, gaze and arms dropping, “I’ll be fine once you leave.” Steve counters, harsher than he intended.

But fuck if he cares. Bucky doesn’t want him. He deserves to be a little angry. If he can’t grieve him, he can at least have this!

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” He snaps, “Just leave, James.”

“James? Oh, I’m James now?”

Steve could care less if he’s hurt his feelings. He’s had enough. His heart hurts, and his head aches. He is done playing this ‘I’m okay with everything’ game.

He is not okay with this, Dammit!

His heart is broken. Shattered. Irreplaceable. And he’s just supposed to be okay with that? He’s supposed to be Bucky’s friend and make jokes and smile when he is dying inside? Crying for his alpha- for stability when he feels like his whole world has been rocked?

Well, he’s had enough. He’s behaved for 2 years. He’s done!

Clenching blue eyes shut, Steve feels every carefully constructed wall of deception crumple at their feet.

“I don’t have time for this. Just leave so that I can breathe! I can’t breathe with you here!”

“Stevie…”

“Please,” the omega whimpers, all the fight leaving his body, long pale fingers running through sleep tousled hair, pulling at the roots, “Just stop.”

“Stop what? I can’t stop doing something if I don’t know what it is I’m doing!”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be panicked. In two strides, he’s in front of Steve, feeling the alarm creep up his chest, a flash of something sharpening eerie grey.

“Steve! Answer m-” Bucky lifts his hands as if to reach out for the other man but catches himself before metal could find flesh, “Will you tell me what I am doing wrong?”

Steve wants to cry and scream and rip that stupid mental arm out of its socket just so he can slap Bucky with it.

“Stop!” He repeats desperately, “Just stop! Stop saying my name! Stop talking to me like-like…”

“Like what!?”

Taking a calming breath, Steve forces himself to meet the alpha’s eyes, “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to give you orders and never receive a protest in return?”

There’s a beat of silence accompanied by a blank expression. Steves heart shouting in his chest.

“...What?”

Steve continues, “Telling you what to do and how to do it. At least before you would fight me, yell at me. Make it easier to breathe.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? You’re my boss. I’m s’posed ta take orders from ya.” Steve just about weeps when the Brooklyn accent begins to peek through, just as it usually does when Bucky is confused.

“Well, I’m not just your boss!”, Steve hears himself say, “I’m not just your boss. I’m also an omega. And I want you to tell me what to do. Your voice is like it’s permanently in alpha command, and I want you to fucking command me! Because I’m not just your boss. I’m not just an omega. I’m your fucking omega! And I can’t stand you saying my name like your seconds away from telling me to get down on my knees because you never do! And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, for precisely one second, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes are misted with tears, his chest heaving and skin flushed with embarrassment and shame, “Please… Just don’t say my name, or I’m just gonna break.”

The words pour from his lips, and he wants to disappear. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from Bucky’s response.

Steve trembles beneath stormy grey, choosing instead to watch the ground. His omega whining and clawing at the back of his mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky.” He murmurs, waiting for the outrage or worse; the indifference-the clunk of footsteps walking away from the mess he’s made. The life they had. The man he no longer loves.

Steve hasn’t found his eyes again. Won’t move his head. He doesn’t care how submissive it makes him look because he’s spent most of his life searching for steel grey eyes in crowds and across rooms. Seeking them out in the dark, the only beacon of light he would see most days. And now… Now those eyes that kept him so safe when the world was crumbling around them made him feel like winter on a summer day, cold and alone, only seconds from melting into nothing.

He’s not sure how much time passes without a word between them. He waits another moment before surrendering a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head and turning to leave.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t stay here.

Like lightning, Bucky’s right hand snaps forward, catching the omega’s wrist before he can make it far, and just like electricity, a jolt of fire scorches where their skin meets.

As one would an old friend, Steve invites the sensation to consume him, feeling every nerve respond to Bucky, it’s like he was brought back to life, and he wants nothing more than to cry because he knows it won’t last. He knows as soon as the alpha lets go, he’ll return to reality as only half a man. Something-someone always missing from him.

“Steve.”, his breath hitches, and his hands shake. A whisper of a scent he’s all but forgotten seeps into the room, but it’s gone before Steve can determine if it’s only a memory.

Steve’s name rolls off of Bucky’s tongue too easily. Too pretty. Too dark. Too much!

Jesus!

Hadn’t he been clear enough the first fucking time? How else exactly was he supposed to phrase it; ‘Don’t say my name, or I’ll break from how horny it makes me?’

“Steve,” The alpha repeats.

Steve feels another pang of electricity shoot to his fingertips, itching with the need to just touch, “Bucky, I think you should leave.”

He doesn’t want him to. But when was the last time Steve got what he wanted.

“Now,” He adds after another second passes. Bucky's feet were firmly placed on the ground, not a single muscle prepared to even twitch.

The room is blanketed in heavy silence before, “No.”

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His lips part in surprise, brow furrowed as his heart begins to pick up the pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate that I can’t scent you,” The alpha announces, talking slow, calculated steps forward, eradicating any space brave enough to separate them,

“I hate that I can’t tell where you are during missions.” Suddenly Bucky’s grip loosens, yet it doesn’t move far. He runs his hand up Steve’s forearm, fingertips dragging across perfect porcelain skin, not stopping until the palm of his flesh hand rests on Steve’s neck.

“I picture what it would feel like to sink my teeth into your neck and keep you there, with my fangs in your flesh, drawing blood from your skin and moans from your lips. I dream of you whimpering, “ He whispers harshly, eyes trained to Steve’s neck.

The omega’s eyes flutter closed, lips trembling around the alpha’s name, “Bucky,”

Ignoring the blonde, the other man continues, not quite done yet, “I defend those thoughts by saying to myself, it’s all so that I can feel you. So I can feel where you are when we’re in the field. So I won’t worry as much, won’t get distracted. But I know it’s just half of it. I know I want to tell you to take those damn blockers off. To wash it away, or let me lick it away with my tongue-whichever came first.”

“I hate that I want to fall asleep with you curled above my chest because you’ll be warmer that way. And for whatever reason, I remember you always being cold before bed. I want to demand you buckle up and wear extra layers. I want you to fight me a little. I want you to tell me to shut up but get all soft when I give you a hard look. Like, you are now, with my chest touching yours, hands at your neck and waist. Your heart stuttering against me. I want you to tease me because you want me to get annoyed so that I tell you to shut your mouth and put it to good use. I hate that I want to do all these things, but I can’t. Because you don’t want me to...”

Blue pop open, held hostage by grey. Bucky is everywhere. His face is so close Steve can feel every breath the alpha takes fan over his eyelashes. His eyes tracking over the curve of pink lips and soft skin. Left arm curled around Steve’s waist, metal grip unmoving. His other hand still firmly placed over his scent gland, Bucky’s long fingers spread over the column of flesh, thumb running back and forth along the length of it, causing goosebumps to follow his trail of fire.

Steve moans at the sensation, baring his neck so Bucky has the access he would need. His legs nearly giving out beneath him, but the arm at his waist won’t let him fall.

“Are you telling me that you want me to?” Bucky presses. His voice is sharp and promising. The hand around Steve’s neck, a light pressure the omega finds himself pushing into.

“Steve! Look at me. Look at me, omega.”

The blonde hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttering shut again, the sensation of being held, of having so much alpha- his alpha right there in front of him. Soaking him in his scent. Not a true claim or even a scent mark, but this is more than he ever thought he would ever get again.

Bucky’s words have barely registered for the omega; he lost the ability to comprehend English the instant Buckys hands found his body. But he reacts to the order, all the same, seeing the steely, beautiful grey (beginning to tint red again) he has known since he was a boy.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to piece together the things Bucky has confessed, his eyes once more welling with tears.

Patiently, Bucky waits for the understanding to reflect in sapphire eyes, speaking only when he knows the omega can now retain information.

“Are you telling me you want me to touch you, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, staring at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” He breathes, just barely audible without an ounce of hesitation.

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky had him against a wall. His nose buried in his neck and his hands rounding his ass, using his shoulders to pin Steve to the wall and lift his legs until the omega joined the program and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s hardening cock pushing into his hip.

“Oh shit, Buck!”

“ I have to say your name,” Bucky growls, grinding into his omega.

“As much as I can, even if it doesn’t work in the conversation, because it’s the closest I can get you in my mouth. It tastes like heaven, and memories I can’t decipher are real or just fantasy they- Oh, fuck baby. Yeah, Stevie- They don’t compare to this- Keep moving, just like that, babydoll.”

Steve ruts against Buckys friction, his eyes closed tightly, whatever was left of their blockers bleeding out, replacing the neutral aroma in the room with their combined scents, desperation, and slick.

“God, Bucky. I missed you so much. I’ve been so alone.”

Buckys mouth finds Steve’s trembling lips, nothing subtle or slow about his movements. The alpha’s tongue swallows the moans tumbling past Steve’s lips. Hands gripping his waist tighter.

The sun bursts behind their eyes. Blood rushing and hearts bumping to twice their regular speed. For different people, people who aren’t Steve and Bucky, a first kiss after so long should probably be slow and tentative, something soft and building. But they aren’t different people. They are too broken and too powerful and undeniably deserving people who have had nothing to count on besides one another their entire conscious lives. To entertain even a second of not indulging in hard, fast, desperate supersedes unthinkable and settles somewhere over cruel.

“Never again, Stevie. I ain’t leaving you alone” another thrust, “Ever, “ another bruising kiss, “Again.”

Bucky’s cock strains against his uniform, desperate for Steve’s hole. Steve is a withering whimpering mess, drunk on Buckys scent and high on all the delicious friction causing his weeping cunt to flutter, uncomfortably empty.

After several more minutes of making out, Bucky moves them back to the bed, lying Steve out on the mattress. He only has a fraction of a second to admire the work of art that is Steve Rogers sprawled out and waiting to be fucked when Steve’s hands are at his neck, pulling him back in.

His lips move against the alpha’s sloppily, sucking on his bottom lip until the ex-assassin growls impatiently, searching for his mate’s tongue. His mate…

His mate. Steve thinks he may cry as the sheer relief almost painfully washes over him. All of the uncertainty and shame of being unwanted melts away, and all that surrounds him is the vibrating want, mine, love, love, love from the man above him, trailing scorching hot kisses down his neck.

“I wanna be ‘side you, baby. Please, Steve. Let me, ugh, please, babydoll. Can I-”

“Yes!” steve interrupts, “Yes, Alpha, you never have to ask! I’ll do whatever you ask, oh just touch me, Bucky, alpha, my alpha, touch me-”

“Shh, “ Bucky chuckles, stopping the omega’s rambling. He runs his flesh hand through disheveled blonde hair, dragging his nails through Steve’s scalp and marveling at the hiss the omega releases, “I’ve got you, Stevie. All I needed was a lil consent, then all bets are off, aren’t they? ‘Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Always have been, jerk. I never stopped.”

“Good. Now, stop touching me.”

With a whimper, Steve can’t stop his hands from frantically clawing every inch of Bucky he can access.

“Now, babydoll, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

Still clutching one hand around Bucky's thick, muscular biceps, the other pulling at the strands of dark brown hair helplessly, “I can be good,” the omega babbles, “I’ll be good, Alpha. So good, I can be good, so so good. Please-”

“ Then listen to what I am telling you. I won’t repeat myself again, Steve. It’s my turn now. I wanna get my mouth on you, and I can’t do that if you keep pullin’ me back up to kiss. So stop touching.”

The moan that stutters past Steve’s lips would be embarrassing if not for how fucking fantastic it feels for Bucky’s alpha command to slam into him. Paralyzing him in place. Hands falling unceremoniously at his sides.

Crystal blues brimming with tears, he feels safe for the first time since coming out of the ice- he feels familiar. Not somewhere foreign with no understanding of anything besides, fight this, kill that. This is different. This is them. This is intimacy- their intimacy.

There’s trust swimming within the negative spaces Bucky extends, and he knows, to his core, he can let go. Steve surrenders all his false smiles and exhausting positivity. This is home. Bucky is home. He doesn’t have to put up a front because his alpha has it handled.

Steve isn’t Captain America or some beacon of hope. He’s just Steve, Stevie. Bucky's Omega.

He’s unsure how much time passes or where it went, to begin with, but his body sinks deeper into his mattress, feeling entirely boneless.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky’s husky voice breaks through the fog, “I lost you for a second there.”

Steve feels himself come back, callused hands running through damp blonde hair.

“Mmm,” he hums.

“You spaced a little, Stevie. You’re so beautiful when you get all soft for me. But you’re back now, aren’t you? Look at you. So perfect. Pretty, perfect omega-mine. Kept your hands at your side the whole time too. Such a good boy. You’re gonna keep your hands right where they are, Stevie. Don’t you move a fucking inch. I’m going to lick you open now, babydoll. And you’re gonna come on my tongue as many times as I want you to. Because I’ve gone 70 years without you, and I’m goddamned starved” Bucky’s voice goes from soft praise to near feral growls. His voice sending nothing but jolts of electricity down Steve’s spine, another wave of slick slipping down his thighs.

Before the ‘please’ has the opportunity to touch Steve's mouth, Bucky's hot, slick tongue finds his pulse point, just mere inches from his mating gland.

“Bucky!”

“I want this off!”, The ex-assassin grunts, in one swift move yanking the crisp white shirt from Steve's chest.

“Oh!”

Bucky backs up to lean on his knees, eyes tracking over pinkening skin. Steve’s own gaze glides over now exposed skin. Steve tries to finger out when he removed his clothes but falls short.

After so long without Buckys tenderly harsh commands, falling into space came a little easier than he would have thought. Overwhelmed by the unanticipated satisfaction.

“Open your eyes.”

When had Steve closed his eyes again?

“There you are, dolly. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay? Always on me, baby.”

Rough, mouthwateringly calloused hands find the waistband of Steve’s pants and yank down in one fluid motion.

The blonde hisses for a moment at the sudden cold air biting his skin, but it only lasts a moment before he’s screaming.

“Fuck!” Steve throws his head back in favor of making sounds even a prostitute would blush at.

One moment Bucky’s on his knees, eyes predatory and sinful, calculating all the things he could do to the man shivering beneath his gaze, the next finds him throat deep, swallowing down Steve’s sweet omega cock, slurping up his precum and getting high off the scent of slick so close to his nose.

Steve can’t breathe.

God! It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s too good!

Steve can feel the familiar pull of an orgasm tugging inside of him. The corners of his closed vision whitening out around the black, lacking the energy to even feel embarrassed by how quickly he’s reached his pinnacle.

Pulling off agonizingly slow, Bucky lets his tongue harshly lick along Steve’s little shaft and twirl over his tip, remembering- fucking remembering! All the sounds and glazed looks elicited from the man below him in the past.

Grey eyes flick up hungrily, ravenous for a look into perfect crystal eyes; he can remember the glazed debauched expression that could devour Steve’s pupils, but it’s not enough!

He wants the real thing.

He wants something tangible and alive in his hands he can never again confuse with desire. Something he’s sure happened, a gift Steve is willingly offering instead of a snarled half-memory he can’t allow himself to believe.

“I-ugh! I’m gonna-“Steve stutters, toes curling and knees bending, framing Bucky's face between his thighs. His hands twitch beside him, but he doesn’t dare move them.

“Oh!”

It should have been a cry of ecstasy.

Should have been the Yellow River Flood; relentless and relieving. No survivors.

Instead, Steve is left with his chest heaving violently. Gasping for air just as he did when he was small.

The omega hears Bucky tutting before he manages to pry his eyes open. Immediately recognizing his mistake before the words fall from cum slick lips.

“Oh, baby. You were doing so good.”

“Nno! Buck, please!”

“Shhh, What did I say, dolly?” Bucky replaces his mouth with one strong hand, lazily jerking at Steve’s straining cock.

He’s smirking when Steve hisses beneath him and hums in approval when his hands stay at his sides.

“F-Faster! Please, Buck! Goddamn it, stop teasing’ me.”

“What did I say, Stevie?” Bucky repeats sharply. His movements slowing further.

Steve’s omega cries.

“You wanna cum, baby doll? “

“Yes!”

“Then what do you have to do?“

Steve’s mind has gone to mush. He thrusts his hips up, chasing after Bucky's friction. Hands struggling against the bedsheets.

“Still, omega!”

Bucky's voice is rough as sandpaper, sounding as on edge as Steve feels. A firm metal hand presses into the omega’s hip holding him in place.

“Be good, Stevie.” The alpha asserts firmly, scent growing muskier with every heavenly noise gasped and groaned from Steve’s sinful lips.

“If you wanna cum, what is it you have to do?”

Bucky rubs a metal thumb soothingly over a sinfully sharp hip bone before trailing his fingers over Steve’s quivering thigh.

Grey eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, “Fuck, baby, you’re so soft. C’mon, don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Please, fuckin touch me, you jerk!”

Chuckling darkly to himself, Bucky watches Steve with bated breath, and all at once, he feels like his mind had never left. Like an addict, he was never over his addiction; he just forgot how good it was. And like the degenerate addict he apparently was, he sucks in deep breaths, sucking in as much of Steve’s aroused scent that his lungs can handle.

All it took was one hit of Steve- his omega- and he had fallen into himself, more of who he was than any memory had offered.

Steve is his clarity and his habit. The one thing that will always bring him back because Steve is home.

And he’s gonna make him feel good. He’s gonna make up for all he put his omega through, and he’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

Every moan, every shiver, every cry. He’s gonna hold him and bruise him because Steve is his, and that’s how the omega likes it. Bucky’s omega. Bucky's Sweetheart. Bucky’s mate.

The ex-assassin lets his fingers trail lower, his other hand still just barely moving over Steve’s pulsing cock.

The first touch of cool metal meeting Steve’s hole causes the blonde to nearly jump off the bed.

“Buck!”

Steve thinks he’s gonna die.

He feels every cell in his body vibrating with a hot, hopeless sensation. Slick pours out of him the second Bucky’s teasing, perfect, godforsaken pinky circles Steve’s core. His lungs and eyes are burning, nearly out of breath, and only capable of volunteering a broken sob when that fucking pinky just barely pushes in.

“Please,” he whispers jaggedly.

He’ll be good for bucky. He’ll keep his hands at his side. He’ll do what he says even without the command, the fogginess of his brain settling deep enough that any request will register as a command anyway.

That’s just how Steve is wired.

Designed to submit to Buck’s direction.

He knows what Bucky wants, but to physically pry his eyes open at that moment was easier said than done. He struggled to determine whether or not he’s trying to starve off a quickly approaching orgasm or trying to chase one.

Whatever the answer, Bucky doesn’t let him reach it.

The alpha’s dark, whiskey voice sounds as wrecked as Steve feels.

“What. Do. I. Want?” Bucky growls impatiently. Another wave of slick dribbles from the omega wetting the sheets beneath them.

Think, steve! Give alpha what he wants! You can be good. I can be good…. What does he want again?

“My…ugh! M-My eyes.”

Finally, fucking finally, Bucky pushes a finger into Steve’s hole. Fast and absolutely delicious.

Just when he thought Bucky would stop playing games, he realizes the ringing in his ears is replaced by the alpha tutting above him.

“Very close, baby, but not quite.”, Buckys finger starts to draw out slowly; what little fullness Steve has is threatened, and the distressed mewl Steve makes in protest causes the alpha to chuckle darkly.

“P-pretty! Keep my pretty eyes on you! Only on you!” his eyes snap open frenzied, finding a swirl of grey and red zeroed in on him.

In a millisecond, Steve has two metal fingers thrusting into his hole. His back arches on the mattress, fingers nearly numb as they grip the sheets tighter, but his eyes don’t close again.

“That’s right, baby. Only on me.”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Fuck! You’re so tight, Stevie.”, Bucky groans, lowering himself as to mouth along Steve’s jaw, nipping his skin between tentative licks.

“Pl-Ease! Oh, yes... Please, Buck.”

“Please what, Stevie? Use your words.”

Steve’s mind is a simple stream of 3 thoughts, Touch me. Fuck me. Love me!; all of which he can only vocalize as, “Oh please, please. Bucky!”

Working a third finger along with the other two, Bucky hisses with Steve at the stretch his hole gives.

So fucking tight, the alpha thinks to himself, I don’t know how I’ll survive it, but I’m gonna fuck this omega so gooood.

“Words, Steve. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want me t’touch ya at’all. Huh, maybe I should stop...”

“No! God, Buck, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

“Then tell me what you want. What a’you begging for, Doll?” Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over Steve’s ribs, rounding at his back, “is it my fingers? Sliding through all your slick? Or is it my mouth?”

“Yes!”

Bucky chuckles,” That’s not really an answer, Stevie.” His voice gets darker each time he says the omegas name like he knows. Actually, the bastard does know! He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The prospect of teasing seems to pull him just the tiniest bit to the side of coherent, a snarky remark falling from his lips as easily as the desperate pleas had moments before.

“You havin’ fun, Buck?” Steve pants, “Seems like you’re having a little too much fun.”

“Aw no, baby. I’m having the exact right amount of fun. Aren’t we?”

“ ‘We’ are a lotta peop-le!! Oh shit!” pushing his fingers in deeper, Bucky just brushes against Steve’s prostate. A sinister and smug smile curling his lips upward.

“Words, Stevie. Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you, omegamine. Just tell me.”

Steve’s chest flushes more as the words tingle on his tongue. Bucky's nearly feral tone betrays his suave and calm demeanor.

He’s just as desperate to be buried deep in Steve’s hole as Steve is to have him there.

Bucky’s fingers push more firmly against Steve’s prostate, and the omega nearly sees stars.

“Sing for me” Almost like an echo, Steve hears Buckys words like gospel.

It’s a command he’s most familiar with. He knows just what ‘ song’ Bucky wants ….

“Daddy!” Steve hisses around a fourth finger. The words punching out of him before he could stop them.

“ I wondered if that was just fantasy,” the alpha mumbles. Eyes darkening a rich crimson. An ever-present growl rumbling in his chest.

Bucky leans over, letting his fingers get even deeper, dragging against Steve’s special spot with every new thrust. With red eyes and diminishing control, the alpha drinks in every pant and whine that drips past kiss-bruised lips and bouncing off the walls of Steve’s room.

Bucky drops his nose into Steve’s scent gland, swiping his tongue over the swelling tissue for a better taste.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Like mate.”

“Buck…” Steve gasps, feeling overwhelmed. Any moans he could possibly wish to suppress are yanked from his chest with every move the alpha makes. Sounds too rowdy even for porn echoing in his small dark room.

Bucky can’t get enough of it, stuttering an accidental thrust into Steve’s hip when the omega whines in a delightfully sweet way, the scent of slick and alluring sounds steve makes nearly choking him.

Fuck, I hope Tony has these rooms soundproofed. Steve uses his last brain cell to think.

Bucky's metal fingers continue to work him open, preparing him for his big alpha cock fast and rough and exactly how he likes it, but his other hand still moves sluggishly over Steve’s, slowly purpling prick. Tightening and stopping entirely every so often as to starve off Steve’s orgasm.

“Bucky, please!”

Fuck, Bucky thinks, I hope everybody can hear him, fuckin; hear us,

The blonde knows all he has to do is tell Bucky ‘Fuck me’ maybe add on ‘Daddy’ to further wreck him like it did back in the days if he even still likes that. But as much as Steve likes Bucky telling him what to do, he loves to defy him into aggression, twice as much.

“Say it again,” Bucky mumbles against the omegas scent gland, unable to move a millimeter.

The laugh that tumbles past Steve’s lips is quickly swallowed by Buckys tongue shoved down his throat. Pearly white teeth pulling back only to stress a bite on his bottom lip, not stopping until a faint taste of metal joins the deliriously delicious taste of Buckys omega.

“Again, omega. Say it again.”

With another brush against his prostate, Stev’s vision begins to blur, but he won’t close his eyes, no matter how much he wants them to,

“Alpha!”

Steve is a debauched disaster. A puddle of liquid fire and Bucky wanted to fucking burn.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, babydoll. But I’m feeling generous, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You say what I want, and I’ll tell my precious boy how good he is. How good you feel around my fingers swallowin’ my fingers so fuckin’ good. And I’ll say your name as much as you want. That’s what you were beggin’ for, wasn’t it?” Bucky rambles, fingers pumping quicker into Steve, hand starving off the omegas dick, tugging over the length with dangerous precision.

“You want me to say your name, dontcha dolly? Tell you you’re being good. Everything Daddy needs. My good, beautiful Stevie.”

Buckys cock presses into the mattress, the slightest friction sending magic to tingle over his skin. His knot calls out for Steve’s sopping wet pussy, fluttering around his fingers. The sensation alone is a mutual torture all on its own.

It would be so fucking easy to slide home into Steve’s awaiting heat. So fucking easy!

Not yet, he reminds himself.

No, he wants something first, and he’s gonna get it.

Outside of the bedroom, the thought of ever using his alpha tone with Steve is unthinkable. There isn’t a scenario out there that could justify taking away his omegas free will.

But here-like this. Sweaty and drooling and filthy, reeking of mate and sex, the tone combines with his voice as if that’s the only way there is to speak.

“Say it again, Steve. Now!”

“Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Please,pleasepleaseplease”

Gently, the alpha removed his fingers. Steve’s mouth opens to cry, but before he can focus too much on the dreadful emptiness, Bucly is buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass.

“Ah!” Steve shouts, throwing his head back and moving his hands to grip at Bucky’s shoulders for the first time since being told not to move them an inch.

He quickly realizes his mistake, and in a fearful attempt to keep Bucky inside of him, confident he wouldn’t survive another moment of his teasing, his alpha’s voice rumbles past the panic.

“Touch me. Wherever you want, Stevie.”

The sigh of relief is an afterthought, long nimble finger trail over both metal and flesh shoulders, a satisfying wave pushing into the realm of too damn good. Being allowed to touch after being denied was always such an experience. Reverse touch starved. Bucky has the go-ahead to do with him as he wishes. Meanwhile, every instinct within the omega seeks Bucky out. His skin, his mouth, his scent. He wants to feel his alpha under his fingers as much as he wants to bounce on Buckys, but he can’t. He has to lay there and fight against the urge to suck hickeys onto every surface of skin he can find.

Pulling on stands of dark chestnut-colored hair, Steve tries to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Move.”, the omega whispers harshly after a few moments.

Bucky doesn’t need much prompting; he knows Steve can take it, and more than that, any remaining sting that prepping might have missed, Steve fucking aches for.

“As you wish.”

It’s like a dam break. A flood, unforgiving, and exactly what they each fuckin need!

Bucky's shallow, calculated thrusts soon quicken, taking on a brutal pace.

He slams his cock home and grinds deep before pulling nearly entirely out and slamming back in. Again and again and again. Returning quicker every time he finds himself back inside Steve’s velvet-soft heat.

Words are lost on the omega, choosing to indulge rather on feral groans and guttural whines, meeting every thrust and dragging sharp nails across Bucky's shoulders.

It’s all so much. Like a storm, heavy and pounding in their ears. And it all makes so much sense.

They’re a natural disaster. Bucky kisses like a hurricane, all lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve moves and squeezes his walls around Bucky's cock, no rhyme or reason to his actions, just passion, just I have to have this.

Kisses pouring down upon kisses like rain, soaking them in love, and Steve nearly cries.

He never thought he’d have this again.

The ex-assassin is a bit more vocal.

He can feel his release creeping up, desire warm and urgent low in his belly. But cumming before Steve is absolutely not an option. Half the fun was watching the poster child for purity throw his head back in ecstasy, beggin for ruin with Buckys name on his lips. And he’d be damned if he's gonna miss it in the cloud of his own pleasure.

“D-Deeper!” Steve whimpers, pulling Bucky closer by the nape of his neck.

The hand that had been knotted in Steve’s own hair follows suit of the palm firmly placed over one sharp hip bone.

Gripping him with enough pressure to bruise, Bucky bends over Steve’s lithe build and takes hold of one muscular thigh, nearly folding the blonde in half as he settles Steve’s leg over his flesh shoulder.

“Fuck!” Steve cries, Bucky's cock sliding that much deeper, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust.

Bucky groans at the new position, one large hand kneading and pulling at Steve's ass, tugging him back with the snap of his hips. His other hand runs over the omegas sweaty, slick body, sliding a finger over a single hard nipple before securing his fingers around Steve’s neck. Palm pushing into his scent gland.

It is a little more than light pressure, but it gives its desired effect; Steve’s eyes go from unfocused and glassy to piercing. More black than blue, pupils blown, but Bucky still catches the glint of gold mingling about, exactly what he’d been waiting for.

There you are, omegamine, he thinks.

“Ugh, yes, fuck! You like that, don’t you. Like me pushing you down. Like me pounding into your sweet pussy. But it’s not really yours is it, baby?”

“Gnnn”

“Answer me. Who’s pussy is this, Steve?”

“Y-yours, Daddy. I’m yours.”

“Mine.” The alpha growls, yet another wave of slick passing Steve’s thighs. “My omega. My good boy. Listened so good, doll.”

“Fuck, Buck. Alpha, my alpha. I missed you, I missed you so fuking much. I missed your big alpha cock. So good to me. I wanna be good, Daddy. Tell me how to be good.”

“You wanna be good?”

“Yes!”

“You’re already so good for me. Perfect omega. Pretty, perfect thing.”

“I can be-ugh yes!! I can...nnnn….be better.” The omega stutters between kisses, “Wanna be the best boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, Alpha. Knot me!”

“Okay, baby. Listen closely, hmm?”

“Keep still.” In two mostly smooth movements, Bucky is lying on his back, Steve’s lean frame now straddling the alpha, lifting him by the waist; Bucky sinks Steve further on his cock.

“Ride me.”

As if without his permission, Steve’s moving above the bigger man.

Thick thighs feel even wider between Steve’s slightly smaller ones. Bucky’s hands come to Steve’s waist, helping him grind down harder, deeper.

Steve can’t keep his gaze from trailing down to where they’re connected. His hole swallowing 6 to 7 inches of monster alpha cock, and he could just cry for how hot it is to see them connected like this.

I wanna be locked to you. I want your knot!

“Eyes, Stevie!” Bucky snarls with another hash snap of his hips, impaling Steve further and hitting his prostate. The omega falls over, making sure to lock blue with grey.

Abandoning their vice grip on the alphas thighs, Steve steadies himself with one hand over his lover's heart, fingertips brushing the mating gland by his neck as the other grips the headboard above the bed, wood splintering under every shock of pleasure jolting through Steve in response to each of Bucky's strident thrusts.

“Oh, oh! D-Daddy. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!”

“Now that I’ve got you back, we won’t be leaving this room for much, Stevie. I want you on your knees sucking my big alpha cock. Licking up the evidence of what you do to me. I’ll hold you by your neck and force-feed it to you just like you like it.”

“B-Buck-eyy!”

“Yeah, baby, say my name. You’re beautiful. Angelic. A work of. Fucking. Art.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jerking of Steve’s body above him. Pulling his center as close as he can get him, knot swelling mercilessly and snagging on Steve’s rim.

Steve feels pleasure like he’s never felt before. Words slurred and hardly coherent,

“‘Wan’ yur k’nnot!”

He sounds drunk.

Bucky loves it!

“Not until you cum, baby doll. You first, then Daddy. Good boys get their rewards, and this is-” using Steve as a ragdoll, Bucky manhandles him into circular motions, twisting and penetrating the omegas sweet spot with wild precision.

One hand (Steve couldn’t even tell you which, mind too fuzzy and too loaded with his quickly approaching orgasm) presses into the omegas gorgeous tits before sweeping down to tug on Steve’s crying cock, pre-cum dribbling from its bright red head.

Steve cums with a shout, back arching and eyes struggling to stay open, finally shut. His vision whites out with pleasure, but he can’t bring himself to remember anything outside of this bliss. No world lived outside of these walls. Just him, his alpha, and all the pleasure Bucky brings him.

“Ohhh, Allphaa,”

“Yours. Yes! Oh, you feel- God so fucking tight, Stevie. Look ‘atchyou. Milking my cock, pussy squeezing my knot, beggin for it. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

“Gimme,” he whispers weakly.

He doesn’t feel Bucky flip him over or the hands pushing both his legs over Bucky’s shoulders, but the moment Bucky starts pumping in and out again, his body jolts awake, and all Steve wants is to make his alpha cum.

“Daddy’s gonna cum right inside your tight, perfect pussy. Yeah, Stevie. ugh!”

“Wan’ be...hmm.”, he tries to form words, but they die on his tongue, not coming down fast enough to entertain even a murmur of conversation.

Another 30 seconds passing before he has enough brain cells to return his gaze to stormy grey.

As always, Bucky’s eyes are already on him.

“That's all you got, Daddy?” The blonde snarks between pants, another orgasm building in his belly, toes curling, and his half-soft prick smushed and pulsating against Bucky's abs.

Bucky laughs around a moan, pulling Steve into another kiss before giving one, two, three more thrusts, shouting out a string of praise as his knot pops inside of his omega.

Steve’s heavy punched out sigh joins the shuddered fluttering of his hole, another wave of release escaping him.

The room fills with pants and sloppy kisses. Each man nosing along their scent glands, finding where a bond mark would go and lapping over it lovingly.

In the 40s, hiding their love was a matter of survival, and a surrender of their need to properly mate. They didn’t have to hide here. They could love each other and bite each other someday. Unified in the one way they spent most of their lives thinking they’d never have.

They Lie there, tied together even after Bucky’s knot goes down. Thoughts of taking that step-marking each other, on the tip of both of their tongues.

They lie there, bathing in the calm after the storm.

Sometime afterward:

After another round and many minutes of lazily making out, the pair rest beside each other, touching the other man wherever he could reach, tracing nonsense patterns into heated flesh and feeling happier than either had in 70 years.

“What were you sayin’, y’know before we… Y’know”, Steve blushes as if he wasn’t just face down ass up drooling over Tony’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Before you started crying for my knot, and I fucked you 6 ways from Sunday?”

“You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Nah, I’m just fucking a jerk.”, The alpha smiles, joy like nothing he’s been able to remember trips over his heart.

“I’m serious, Buck. Before we...did it”

“Ha!”

A sharp smack falls onto Buckys bare chest, “Fine! Before you came like a geyser up my ass-”

“Steve!” Bucky barks a laugh, loving the pink blush dusting over Steve’s cheeks despite the faux aggravation he was attempting to express.

“Will ya quit interrupting me? You fucking alphas are so rude!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Stevie. What were you saying?” Bucky concedes, the shit-eating grin doing nothing for the butterflies swarming the omega’s insides.

“You were saying that you couldn’t decipher real from what’s fake?”

Sighing, Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, not stopping, when the omega turns onto his stomach, exposing his back and facing the brunette. Bucky smiles down at the omega letting his hand slide down to his spine, tracing the smooth pale skin with the tip of his finger.

It’s freeing, liberating even, to let his hands and eyes roam wherever they want. After so many years of separation, then being reunited only to build unnecessary obstacles designed for the sole purpose of self-sabotaging, somehow they’ve found themselves again in the other man’s arms.

Bucky bends down to press a gentle kiss on Steve’s shoulder, loving the way the omega shivers beneath his lips.

I could just eat him alive…

“Buuuuck,” Steve shakes his head, smiling at the alpha underneath long lashes.

“Sorry, baby, you just look so sexy.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe it has a little to do with all the naked skin?”

Smiling goofily, Bucky allows his voice to get al sweet, “C’mere, smartass.”

Bucky pulls a yelping Steve into his lap, effectively laying the slender omega over his broad alpha chest.

The feeling is exhilarating. Bucky feels his stomach swoop and heart skip a beat, feeling more accomplished in this solitary moment entangled with Steve than in months of SHIELD work.

Steve grins despite himself. Settling against Bucky's chest, folding his hands in front of him and resting his chin onto his knuckles. Suddenly thrilled by the position.

He can stare into Bucky's eyes forever, and he has a sneaking suspicion the alpha won’t protest.

Cold metal fingers trail down Steve’s spine, eliciting a gentle quiver from the blonde man, shamelessly beaming beneath the attention.

“I remember how scared I would get in the winter.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, lying his head down onto his forearms and urging the larger man with his eyes to continue.

“I love that I can make you shiver now. But I think it would’ve just about wrecked me with worry back then.”

Bucky's flesh hand curls across Steve’s exposed waist, letting his heat seal into his fingers. His eyes close in relief. Like he’s remembered something… or rather; reminded himself of something.

“ I remember the worry best. The sleepless nights and evenings spent bent over pews, praying no one could hear your name falling from my lips because then they’d know… Know how much I wanted you. Wanted you to live. Wanted you to love me. Wanted you to be my omega. I remember going to work at the docks and feeling the bike rise in my throat as we talked about chasing tail when all that I fucking wanted was to make it through my shift and run my way home to you.”

Steve smiles fondly at Bucky. His head remains rested in the crook of his right elbow but reaches forward with his left to trail patterns on Bucky’s scent gland. Trailing back from his neck to his cheek, he will never understand how helpful he is just by existing.

“ I remember wanting you. I know there has never been a moment in which I existed, and I didn’t love you, even under hydra. Even when they told me- made me go after you. They had to wipe me twice before I stopped fighting… I should’ve kept fighting.”

“Buck-“ Steve’s tone is soft and reprimanding in the way only Steve Rogers could manage, but it’s not enough. The tears build behind grey and crimson. Shame burning him from the inside.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to shake away Steve’s tender touch.

Leaning forward, Steve ignores the alphas dismissal, warm petal-soft lips find Buckys, and he presses his weight deeper into his alpha.

“I’m here. With you. You stopped, Buck. You never, not for a second, stopped fighting! That wasn’t you.” Steve’s tone was loving and firm in the way only Steve Rogers could ever manage- or could ever feel for Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes find crystal blue, and for a moment, he’s thrust back into his mind, his heart thrashing and growling, crying Not him! Not Steve. Stop! God damn it! You’re hurting him! We can’t hurt him!

For a moment, Steve’s sweet pink cheeks are bruised and bleeding, split by Russian metal and the free will Bucky was robbed of.

“Bucky!” Steve whispers harshly, just on the edge of frantic, “ C’mon, alpha. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“I’m here.”, Bucky chokes out, “ I’m here, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They hold each other for, neither of them speaking. Foreheads pressed together between grabby hands pushing firmly against heated flesh.

A reminder…

I’m alive. You’re okay. We’re together.

“ I remember those things; that panic of possibly losing you, very easily,” Bucky continues, “ And then… it started as flashes. Split seconds. But god, did I chase after them. It would be something minimal at first. You lying down on the bed or smiling at me over a sketchbook. But then they changed, and your head was thrown back, and the things you were drawing were us-naked. And I started hating myself because my fucking crush on you was filtering in on my memories of you, and it wasn’t fair. It felt real, but I knew it wasn’t or-“

“But they are real, Buck. We’ve always been us. This way! Laws be damned! We loved each other, and no one was gonna tell us we couldn’t have that!”

“It didn’t matter, though,” Bucky adds.

Steve shoots up off his chest, kneeling on the mattress, and as naked as the day he was born. More hurt than he thought he could ever be in his alphas arms, “ Of course it did. How could you say that? Wha-”

Bucky sits up quickly, reaching out, but Steve swiftly evades him, feeling colder than Brooklyn in February.

“Steve-“

“No! How could you say that? It matters! We matter. You matter. I fucking matter, Bucky! I lost you. You died! You fell off that train, and my alpha died!” he cries,

“I flew that plane into the ocean not because Captain America’s nobility prevails, I did it because l was grieving and life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Steve-“

“No! Shut. Up.” Steve growls, but it sounds more like a whine.

“I died too, Buck. And woke up to a life I didn’t want either. Not just like you. I know what you went through was unthinkably cruel. But living without you was a prison sentence. And I had no choice but to wear red, white, and blue in place of orange and serve out my life miserably and without you. And that mattered.”

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Then how else did you mean it?”

“There were things that I saw or remembered-whatever! But neither matter because fantasy is something that can never happen, and if it’s a memory, it will never happen again.”

Steve can feel his heart breaking in his chest. Angry and more than a little offended, he can practically feel the anguish emanating from his alpha’s skin.

“Because you wouldn’t want the blood-soaked into my hands to touch you. To touch your pretty perfect body, so I say your name, and I can’t stop because my alpha is always just before feral, and you are the only thing keeping Me on the side of sane. I know you matter. You’re the only thing on this entire fucked up bullshit infested planet that matters!”

“But the thought of losing you based on things I simply wanted and not what you needed from me? It didn’t matter- nothing mattered beyond you. I thought you wanted Bucky Barnes, the closeted best friend. I couldn’t trust myself to believe you wanted me in the 40s, and I couldn’t hope that if you had, you’d want me still.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve sighs, eyes misting, but he lets himself be drawn in by strong, vulnerable arms.

“...I think I understand what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I miss you ao many times. But then I just...couldn’t. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, so I just kept pretending I didn’t. But then there are days when I wake up, and the fact that it’s without you won’t let me pretend anymore.”

“Now, who’s the idiot?” Bucky chuckles, brushing strands of hair from those hypnotizing blue eyes.

Bucky lets the Sympathy, understanding pool from his scent and settle over Steve like a warm blanket.

Smiling, Steve takes the comfort from his alpha in stride, “Of course, I talk like an idiot, Buck. How else are you ‘posed to understand me?”

Huffing a quick laugh, the ex-assassin feels all the love for this omega shine in a smile, “You’re such a fuckin’ punk, y’know that little omega?”

“ I’m your fuckin’ Punk, and besides, I’m not so little anymore.”

Whatever faithless semblance of decency they had left swiftly deteriorates as Bucky fully settles Steve into his lap, lying back into the cushions and pulling the duvet over them both.

He presses a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead and whispers with as much meaning he can muster, “You’re perfect, omegamine. Fuckin’ perfect! Perfect for me, you hear?”

Steve releases a joyful giggle,” I hear. Are we going to sleep, Alpha?”

“Yep!”

Snuggling deeper into the alpha’s chest, Steve feels content for the first time in what feels like forever, loving how perfectly he still fits in Bucky's arms, even all beefed up by the serum. Not a single gap between them.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” Bucky asks happily. Certainly hearing and feeling Steve’s pleased purring.

“ I’m warm,” The omega mumbles, exhaustion barreling into him.

“Good. Sleep, Stevie. We'll talk more in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nuzzles into his alpha more until his nose is close enough to the source of the brunette’s scent, humming satisfaction as he sniffs pleasantly.

“I never thought I’d get to have this. That you’d be in my arms like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life just pining after you-loving you. I love you, omegamine. I love you so much.”

Steve replies in soft snores, but Bucky doesn’t care. He presses a kiss to the top of ruffled blonde hair and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He doesn't mind that Steve fell asleep because nothing else matters besides his blue-eyed beauty. Not when he has this. Not when Steve is soft and asleep and warm. He has the rest of his life to tell his omega he loves him.

One thing is for sure.

Bucky will never stop saying Steve’s name.

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