#(dearest pearl)

[bebemoon]

my dearest world "seraphim lock" collar w/ soft metal heart padlock and chicken foot pearls .

[fishfetti]

you're growing tired of me you love me so hard, and i still can't sleep

[pearlsinmyhair]

.;. ✮⋆˙self ships

inspired by the lovely @messylustt. let’s do this~

spiderverse — pearl + hobie

little miss perfect meets punk rocker

now playing : magic by mannywellz

first impressions gone wrong, hesitation, he fell first, she fell harder, stolen rings even when they don’t fit, neck kisses, tracing a fingertip down the spine, mornings in bed without a care for the world, sharing headphones, thumbing through vinyl together, live music, leaning down to kiss her while she’s in the crowd, mumbled adoration, tugging forward by the belt or collar.

“ my muse ” “ luv ” “ baby ” — hobie.

spiderverse — pearl + miguel

soft soul meets heart of stone

now playing : melting by kali uchis

slooowwwburn, stubbornness, lips pressed to the back of hands, whispered ‘good mornings’ while it’s still dark outside, reminding each other to eat, dragging miguel to bed, hair twirled between fingers, slow passion, thunderstorms at night safe with each other, ‘did you get home?’ texts, cooking together, spanish whispered into the back of her neck, hands creeping under fabric to rest against warm bare skin.

“ sweetheart ” “ chaparrita ” “ angel ” — miguel.

[emperorpearl-ofthefarmlands]

Hello, Pearl!

-@elvenkingsmajor

Why hello there, Scott! How's it going?

Everything chill-y? ❄️

[theinfinitedivides]

second My Dearest related post today but Only Skin from Ys and Divers from the eponymous album 🤝🏼 Ryang Eum longing for a man who will never love them in exactly the way they deserve

[vintersang]

"No one thinks you're strange!"

wicked sentence starters / accepting / @esmerclda

Everything has gone so terribly wrong.

The news of her sister, her little sister, freezing to death because of her second attack on the frozen fjord still rang in her head. It was as loud as the massive Notre-Dame Cathedral's grand bells, but sinister and endless. She has lost sleep long before she fled far, far from the scene of her crime. She had been charged with treason by Prince Hans, no doubt now the King of Arendelle since Arendelle seemingly had no heir from the royal bloodline now that Anna is dead and gone. In a strange moment of disbelief, Anna did appear to stop the prince's blade from slaying the monster in this story. Both Hans and Elsa were shocked, but Elsa assumed Anna managed to fight through her death with every ounce of her fighting spirit.

Unaware of the lies of Hans, the grief-stricken queen watched in shock and horror as her weak-looking sister sacrificed herself to save her from certain death. The spread of her curse, the icy strike to Anna's very heart, had finally spread to the rest of Anna. Snow suspended in the air as grief overtook Elsa, swallowing her up until there is nothing left in her. For a second time now, she had to feel the crash of being told about her sister's demise. The worst part is how she watched it happen right before her very eyes. With nothing to live for, Elsa fled for yet another time.

She has never been charged with treason, but the fear convinced her to run as far as possible. The people already know the truth, so Prince Hans would no doubt be the best ruler to take over since the people loved him as much as they loved her sister. Her parents were gone, so there is no one else from her family to pick up the mess she has caused. Elsa's fear and quick reflexes made her miss the miraculous event of her frozen sister beginning to unthaw. She longed to throw her arms over her sister, embrace her one last time, but Elsa needs to run. She desperately has to get far away before she begins a body count in her reign of danger and fear and endless winter.

With her flee from Arendelle, her winter spreads. Unaware of her sister being alive, Elsa does anything to get away from as much people as possible. She disguises herself, abandoning her dress made of ice for rags. She doesn't care about the very poor quality of her clothes because she had no fear of freezing to death, so she might look very sickly and without a single coin to call hers. She arrives in France, weary and too lost in her thoughts to admire any beautiful sights. She cannot think of anything but the events in Arendelle, replaying every single mistake she committed in the back of her head.

Arendelle and anywhere she goes will be hit with her unpredictable winter, no matter how much she pleads to any god that will listen to her.

What has she done?

This is all her fault—

Paris is already being engulfed in her winter, rudely interrupting the summer weather. It happens overnight, perhaps faster than that, shocking everyone but her. People around her are already whispering and sobbing for the guidance of someone named Claude Frollo to help them in this difficult time. Witchcraft has taken hold of Paris, threatening to snuff them all out. Elsa grips a half-empty matchstick box in both of her hands in a deadly tight grip, using them as a substitution for her dear gloves. A thick layer of frost covers the box, but she still holds onto it as devoutly as a rosary.

It helps her replace her teal gloves, yes. Selfishly, she uses the winter weather she caused in order to sell matchsticks for as cheap as possible. She would try to sell the whole box at a moment's notice, but she doesn't have multiple matchstick boxes to at her disposal. She uses any coin she gets to feed herself scraps, quickly adjusting to these meals. The only advantage of her winter is that sleeping outside allows her more room to use her limited money on food and water. She ran out of her last coin two days ago, so she turns to the majestic cathedral.

Elsa drops to her knees, still holding the box of matches close to her aching heart. Prayer has always been something she struggled with, even though her family had their own royal chapel within the castle grounds. She did believe in a higher power, but prayer never worked. She witnesses how others were able to pray with ease, feeling some form of connection to whoever they choose to worship. She tries so desperately to believe, hope for some kind of divine guidance, but she only feels like she is talking to herself in her head. No divine intervention or angels or anyone at all were able to save her parents from that storm at sea.

No one saved Anna, not when she needed saving the most.

No one will save her— Why would they want to save a monster? She should be slayed like the monster she was, not saved—

Until a green-eyed beauty appeared, candlelight framing behind her curvy figure.

She isn't holding a dagger nor a sword, only armed with words. Elsa slowly realized the stranger is speaking to her, not anyone else in this semi-crowded cathedral. It takes her a minute to register that she was muttering apologies for being strange, for allowing the curse of hers to corrupt everything she loves until it dies. She rises to her feet hastily, already wanting to get away from the alluring stranger and her honey-sweet words for both of their sake. In her haste, fatigue causes her to weakly sway onto the wall. Her feet are so sore after traveling so much for who knows how long, so she still struggles to keep on moving.

"What... What do you want?" Elsa's demand is weak, most likely not very audible, but her body language is cold as ice. A glare is upon her face in seconds, easily formed by her growing wariness. Notably, her snow-covered body upon her pallor skin is not showing an ounce of trembling. More and more people flock to the massive heart of Paris, seeking sanctuary and guidance. More voices join them, easily drowning out her soft-spoken voice.

"Leave me alone, please...please..." Elsa's icy composure does not show signs of easing up, but she has the instilled manners of her etiquette lessons. "I don't know who you are, but I am not interested in speaking to anyone. Will you please go away?" Elsa's lessons in French come in handy, though now she wished she pretended to not know an ounce of French. No matter how beautiful or kind this woman looked, Elsa did not appreciate being spied on by someone. Whether this woman was as popular as this important-sounding Claude Frollo did not matter to her, not when she is trying to avoid her past. She knows she is only causing more troubles the more she runs, but running away from her problems is all she knows how to do.

[saturnicos]

— how would they save your contact name?

→ all NRC students (-ortho) | [gn!reader + romantic]

[a/n]: a silly idea I had while talking to my friend \o/ some of them are inspirations by headcanons of nationality and/or native language.

riddle: "My rose 🌹"

trey: "seamair 🍀"

deuce: "love<3"

ace: "my brover 👊"

cater: "sunshine"

leona: "idiot herbivore"

ruggie: "my voluntary wallet"

jack: "Bae"

azul: "angelfish 💙"

jade: "My pearl"

floyd: "lil shrimp 🦐"

kalim: "MY LOVELY PARTNER 💞💕"

jamil: "Pyare :)"

vil: "Gorgeous"

rook: "ma belle fleur 💓💌♥️💝"

epel: "Apple" (vil controls the use of devices in the dorm, so it's probably the best he can get)

idia: "[name]-kouhai 👾"

malleus: he first didn't know how to change the name, then left it saved just as your number until Lilia would be replaced by "pookie 💥"

lilia: "general☝️💝"

silver: "dearest"

sebek: "annoying human magicless 💚"

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy

Pairing: Greaser!Bucky Barnes x Uptown Girl!Reader Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

A.N. - Here's a long awaited request from one of my dearest readers @oneofstarkskids, it definitely strayed a little from that initial request but i hope you enjoy! "just reread this and it's still so amazing 😭 do you take requests? if so, would you be inclined to writing a grease themed bucky au one shot?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Picture this... he's from the wrong side of the tracks. He's everything every mother in your neighborhood warned you about. His hands perpetually stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his lips, scuffed leather jacket snug around his broad shoulders.

You're none of those things, the complete opposite. Pearls strung around your neck. Perfectly done up, lips painted the perfect rouge. You're as educated as a woman could be in your day and age. You're an Uptown girl. Capital O - Old Money.

Your friends are enamored with Bucky Barnes and his friends - though you all know they'll never do anything about. Not as long as their parents had anything to say about it. And none of them are prepared to give up their high class life. It's just fun for them. A way to sow some wild oats before their parents introduce them to their future husbands.

Every chance they get, they pester you to take the long way home. To walk by that mechanic shop where Bucky and his friends hang out.

They never approach those Brooklyn boys. No, they never offer more than a coy smile and a languid, flirty twinkle of their manicured fingers. They just relish in the attention they get from walking past them.

You hate it. You hate their arrogance. You hate the smell of nicotine that hangs around him. You hate everything about them, down to those oddly charming Brooklyn accents.

"Hey," a blonde boy calls as you and your best friend walk past their mechanic shop one day. "Hey!"

"I told you this was a bad idea," you hiss at your friend, locking your arm with hers. "Now, look."

"I think they want to talk to us," she squeals under her breath.

He picks up his stride, doing a half jog until he reaches where your friend holds you hostage on the pavement. "We see you ladies passin' through every once in a while. Thought we could be friends or somethin'."

Your friend is immediately entranced with the blonde boy. Her face flushes as she beams at him, "We would love that!"

"We have enough friends," you simultaneously reply.

"She's kidding," your friend nervously chuckles, elbowing you in your ribs.

The blonde boy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I'm Steve. My friend there is Bucky."

As if on cue, Bucky saunters up beside Steve with an equally arrogant grin. He tips his head at each of you. "Hello, ladies."

Your friend nods at the two of them, an ear to ear grin taking up her entire face. "It's nice to meet you, Steve, Bucky."

The brunette's eyes flash over to you, speaking through that infuriating smirk, "Pleasure's ours."

"Would you ladies like to join us for a Coke?" Steve offers.

"We'd love to!" she immediately replies.

You shoot your friend an intense, incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure thing." Steve nods, ambling away from you and your friend to give you a moment of privacy.

Bucky doesn't move an inch. He stands before you with that same arrogant smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I'm good right here."

"Fine," you scoff, speaking as bluntly as you can. Despite your polite upbringing, you you find don't care about offending him in the slightest. "We are not staying here!"

"Come on," she pleads. "What's the harm?"

"Where's the good in staying?" you shoot back.

"They're just so handsome," she fawns, looking over her shoulder to give a coy wave to the blonde boy. "And there's one for the both of us, it's fate!"

"It's not fate. They're nothing but trouble."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You remember that I'm still right here, right?"

You shoot a glare at Bucky. "I know."

He playfully clutches his chest. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Doll."

You can feel the anger raising your blood's temperature. You don't like how quickly he's gotten underneath your skin. "I'm not your Doll."

"Princess?" he suggests with an infuriating wag of his eyebrows.

There's an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to stamp your foot at him and yell at him to stop teasing you. You keep it together just enough to contain that visceral reaction you're having to Bucky Barnes. Mostly. "I'm not your anything!"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I ever do to you, Princess?"

Your eyes narrow in accusation. "I know your type."

"Charming? Irresistibly handsome?"

"Horrendously arrogant," you seethe at him. You turn back to your friend, only to find her missing, "Now, can we please go-"

"Your friend ran off the second you were focused on me."

Your eyes flicker to behind Bucky to your friend, who sure enough is enthralled in a conversation with Steve. "I was not focused on you!"

"Then why didn't you notice your friend runnin' away from you?"

"You're incorrigible."

The corner of Bucky's lips twitch up. "Didn't they teach you in that finishing school that it's not polite to insult people who are tryin' to be your friend?"

"And how would you know that I went to finishing school?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you like the answer is obvious. His eyes rake over you. From the way you hold yourself. To the dresses that oozed quiet luxury. You and Bucky were as different as night and day. "I know an uptown girl when I see one."

"And I know trouble when I see it," you shoot back. "And you Brooklyn boys are nothing but trouble."

It only gets worse from there. After that first interaction, your friend in fully infatuated with Steve Rogers. There is no tearing her away from him.

And that means, as your friend's dutiful alibi, you were dragged down to Brooklyn far more than you ever wanted.

And worst of all, it meant you spent most of your free time in the presence of Bucky Barnes.

"Please, just be nice," your friend begs as you trudge up to their garage. "I'd settle for polite even."

You scoff at her, rolling your eyes, "I'm always polite - just like I'm always nice."

"Not to Bucky, you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumble, walking into the garage. Your friend takes off, immediately falling into the arms of Steve Rogers. Leaving you with Bucky Barnes to sit with him on the the couch that's become your most constant companion on days like today. As you walk past Bucky, you snipe, "James."

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking at you, "Oh, so now I'm James?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

He walks away from the bike he spends most of his time working on, snatching a rag from his tool bench and wiping his hands of motor grease. Your eyes involuntarily wander to his hands, the care he puts into wiping each and every one of his fingers.

You stare for a second too long for Bucky not to notice you staring at his hands. "Remind me to thank Steve for tellin' ya that."

You roll your eyes, finally snapping out of it. "It's far better than the alternative."

He flicks the rag over, resting it on his shoulder. "So you like my name?"

You softly snort as you settle onto the couch. "I didn't say that. I said it was better than the alternative."

That smirk only gets even bigger. "What else do ya like about me?"

You roll your eyes. "Not a thing."

He settles into the couch beside you. Far too close for your liking. You can almost feel the rough denim of his jeans through your skirt. "I just love these conversations of ours."

"I don't."

His entire torso turns towards you, mischief and amusement gleaming in those blue eyes, "I mean, why would I want warmth and affection when I could have blind hatred?"

"It's not blind hatred." In spite of easily Bucky gets under your skin, you can't deny just how unfairly handsome he is. Even now, you find yourself lost in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. "It's perfectly reasonable contempt."

He gently runs a finger down your cheek. "I love when you talk smart to me."

You swat his hand away from your face. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" Bucky insists. "I really love it! I know it's just your way of flirting with me!"

You scoff, making no attempt to hide your offense, "I am not flirting with you!"

He tilts his head at you, that arrogant smirk once again tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, just admit it, Doll. You're a little sweet on me."

"I am not your Doll!" You fly up out of your seat with an indignant huff. "And I most certainly am not sweet on you!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when I walk around here without a shirt. Or the way you were staring at my hands just now. What exactly were you picturin' my hands doin'?"

"I was not picturing anything." Your cheeks flame as you continue to bicker back and forth with him. Sure, he was possibly the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on. And yes, he could be incredibly charming. And sometimes, you found yourself staring at him in an not so innocent way. But you hated him. He infuriated you to no end. "And I was not staring!"

The grin is practically splitting his face. "And you've definitely thought about kissin' me."

"I would rather walk from here to Jersey than kiss you."

He slides up off the couch, taking a long step towards you. "You've got a hell of a temper, you know that?"

You refuse to back down. You press an accusing finger into his chest. You can't help but notice just how firm the muscles underneath that white t-shirt are. "I just think you're real good at pushing my buttons."

"Real good?" Bucky teases. "I think Brooklyn is startin' to rub off on you."

"You know what I think?" Your chest starts to heave with the anger and frustration you feel towards Bucky Barnes. "I think that you're the last person I would ever let rub off on me. I think that you're an arrogant smart ass that likes to spend his day running his mouth."

"And I think you're a repressed priss that couldn't take what she wanted 'less it's handed to her on a silver platter."

"You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I want."

"You wanna know what I think..." He leans closer, lowering himself to your eye level. "I think that you're pissed off because you know deep down those punk ass rich boys will never make ya happy, I think you're pissed off 'cause you're bored, and I think you're pissed off 'cause you want me - even if you'll never admit it."

You don't have a response to that. There's not a single word that comes to mind. You don't think you've ever been this mad before.

And because you can't think of a single word to assuage your heaving chest and boiling blood, you do something that a polite, good girl like you would never even dreaming of doing. Before you can think, you find your hand opening and winding back.

Before you can even make contact with his cheek, he catches your hand, gripping your wrist between his warm, calloused hand. He hauls you forward until you stumble into his chest.

For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop. The tension is so thick the only air in the room Bucky's breath dancing across your lips. "I think I'm gonna kiss you."

A soft breath stutters from your lips. "And I think I'm gonna let you."

You weren't sure what it was, but after that first kiss, you couldn't get enough of your Brooklyn boy. Even after your friend and Steve had mostly fizzled out, you couldn't get enough of him.

You waited for the moment that they all talked about, the moment when you had your fill of the boy from the wrong side of tracks, when your wild oats were sufficiently sowed, but it never came.

Every time you laid eyes on him, the seal on your fate only solidified more and more. The more you saw him, the more you wanted him. And the more sure you were that you would never be able to let him go.

You weren't a stranger to the boredom and monotony of your upper echelon life, but this was different. This wasn't boredom, he wasn't a distraction. From the moment you met Bucky, you lost all interest in the upper echelon of it all.

Suddenly, you don't care what your friends think, what your parents would think. Suddenly, you were throughly repulsed by the thought of marrying one of those repressed, trust fund babies that littered your street.

And even your friends, the same ones that lived off their fleeting attention, didn't understand.

Your friend rolls her eyes again, a sigh of irritation leaving her lips as you ready to go meet Bucky, "Are you really going back up there?"

"You're the reason I met him in the first place!"

"I know. I know," she groans, clearly disappointed that you hadn't lost interest in Bucky like she had with Steve. "And I'm happy for you! I am! I just I want to make sure..."

Her tone finally gets your full attention. You put your bag down on the table, your eyebrow pulled together, "Make sure what?"

"You're just sowing wild oats, right?"

Your entire face puckers with distaste, "What?"

"That sounded bad," she backtracks, a guilty look painting her face. She takes a deep breath, resting a condescending hand on your shoulder. "You just - you know your future isn't with Bucky, right?"

You shake her hand off your shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"He's from a different world than we are. You know that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," you scoff. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Come on, he's not exactly the sort of guy you can bring home to your parents."

You snort, turning away from her, "I have to go."

"You know I'm right!" she calls after you.

You didn't know that. In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw why he was exactly the right person to bring home to your parents. He was everything you could ever bring yourself to hope for and more. Sure, he was different than you and your family, but he was a good man. He was perfect for you.

Surely, your parents could see that. Surely, they could see how good he was for you.

So that's exactly what you were going to do.

Bucky sighs against your lips, "I missed ya."

You don't know when that happened, but you've come to find a comfort in the scent of the faded leather of his jacket, in the feeling of his calloused fingertips trailing dangerously high on your upper thigh.

In the backseat of his beloved car, you curl closer into his side, resting your head on his chest, "Me too."

He kisses the top of your head, watching as you stare off into the distance, "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

You pull back slightly, lifting your head off his chest. With a furrowed brow, you ask him, "How serious are you about me?"

"Dead serious," he replies in an instant.

You lightly swat his chest. "Quit playing."

"'M not playin'," he swears. He does an 'x' over his heart, "Cross my heart."

His answer gives you all the reassurance you need. All there was to do was ask him. Still, there was a hesitancy. You worry that this will just make him realize that you two might just be insurmountably, irreconcilably different. You decide that the best way to ask is just ask. "Then what would you say about meeting my parents?"

"I'd love to," Bucky coolly answers.

You can't help the way your face lights up with hope. "Really?"

"Of course. Anything for my girl."

You really like the way that sounds. His girl. You could get used to being his girl.

The look on your face is worth it all to Bucky. He only hopes you don't see the anxiety in his expression.

He wasn't oblivious to how different your worlds were. He knew there was a good chance that this wouldn't last forever. It didn't really matter what he wanted or how much he was willing to fight for you, he knew the reality of it all.

He couldn't offer you half of what someone in your neighborhood could. Your worlds couldn't be more different.

And he's never been more aware of it than on the eve of meeting your parents.

Steve smirks at Bucky as he fiddles with his tie again. "You're really seein' this through, aren't you?"

Bucky smacks Steve upside his head. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm just sayin'," Steve shrugs, settled into the couch of Bucky's family home. "I'm happy for ya, Buck. You really like this girl."

"I wouldn't be dressed like this for anyone else. Are you sure this is right?" Bucky tugs at his tie again. Maybe it was that the suit hadn't seen the light of day in a few years and was a little more snug than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that he'd only dressed like this for funerals and weddings, but everything about his getup today made him feel like a fraud. He was sure if your parents saw him like this, they'd see right through him. "I feel like I'm goin' to a school dance."

"Where does she live again?"

Bucky tries his best to hide his wince. He'd never been to your side of town, but he'd heard stories. Sure, most of them were made up, but there had to be some truth buried in the tall tales. "Upper West Side."

Steve pats his shoulder. "Stick with the tie, Buck."

He listens to Steve's advice and sticks with the tie. As he walks through your neighborhood, seeing houses bigger than entire apartment buildings on his block that line your street, he's pretty confident in trusting Steve up until the moment he sees you.

Your smile stutters as you see him waiting outside the gate of your home. It was just his luck that your house was one of the biggest on the block. Your eyes trail up and down Bucky's uncharacteristic attire. "What are you wearing?"

His heart sinks. He looks down, patting his blazer and tie. "Am I - Am I not this thing right? I knew it - I told Steve -"

"No, no," you quickly interject. "You look great! I've just never seen you... like this."

"What's wrong with this?" Bucky hedges.

Your soft smile up at him is the only thing soothing his knotted stomach. "Nothing, I - I just wanted them to meet you, to meet the Bucky that I know and - and I want them to know you. Not whoever this is."

"I - I didn't think they would like that Bucky very much," Bucky confesses.

It doesn't escape you that he's nervous, especially as he fiddles with this tie over and over again. You're well aware of how intimidating this all is. Even as someone who grew up in this social circle, in the thick of the upper echelon, you still found yourself scared of doing and saying the wrong thing.

You knew he was only trying to fit in as best as he could. Still, you missed the smell of his leather jacket, the waft of motor oil that often clung to his skin. "Well, I like you the way you are. Greaser and all."

"Thanks." It's comforting to him. Still, as his eyes rove over your house, he can't help but be glad he listened to both Steve and his mother. He holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "My Ma told me to bring these for your Ma."

An endeared smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He was really trying to win over your parents. He really was serious about this - about you. "My mother will love this."

"Your mother," Bucky corrects himself, doing his best to tame his Brooklyn twang.

"Just be yourself," you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you make your way up the long driveway. "No one else, just you."

"Any other tips?"

"If you run out of things to talk about ask my father about his cars. He collects them."

It takes everything in Bucky not to gape like a fish out of water. "He collects... cars?"

You ignore his question, continuing to fill Bucky in on your parents, "And my mother, well, she's a terrible gossip. If you can get her talking about her friends, you've won her over."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Just relax. They'll love you."

As he walks into your home, greeted by a man wearing a nicer suit than he is who offered to take his coat from him, Bucky's not quite sure he believes you.

Your heels click against the sleek marble flooring as you guide him through your home. He holds on tight to your hand, half afraid that you'll let go and he'll get lost in the labyrinth of pristine beige hallways.

Your father is the first to greet Bucky in your living room. He extends a hand out to Bucky. "You must be the boy we've heard so much about."

"It's nice to meet you both," Bucky returns the firm handshake before turning to your mother with the warmest smile he can muster through his anxiety. "You have a lovely home, ma'am. I brought these for you."

She takes the bouquet from Bucky's hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you..."

"Oh, it's Bucky," he supplies.

"Bucky?" your mother dubiously repeats. "How unique..."

"It's James, actually," Bucky corrects himself, already feeling himself getting flustered. "James Buchanan Barnes. 's where Bucky comes from."

Your mother nods, offering a tight smile, "How lovely."

As your mother hands off the flowers to one of the wait staff, he can't help but already feel like he's already made that dreaded bad first impression.

As though you can see the despair forming in the pit of his stomach and dampening the glimmer in his blue eyes, you give his hand a squeeze along with a smile.

"Dinner is ready," your mother announces. "Why don't we make our way to the dining room?"

"That sounds wonderful," you beam, leading Bucky into the next room. You stutter to a stop just before the dining table. You look at the table as you take your seat, your eyebrows furrowed at something that Bucky hasn't quite caught on to. "Mother? I thought we agreed on a more simple menu tonight."

As you speak you reach under the table, giving Bucky's hand an apologetic squeeze. Just from your inflection, Bucky can tell what awaits him will not be pleasant.

"Nonsense." She dismissively waves you off. "We have a guest."

"We talked about this," you admonish. "You promised."

"Bucky?" your mother calls. "Do you mind having a more formal dinner? I know it might be a tad unusual for you."

"Mother," you sharply warn.

"Um, no, ma'am," Bucky awkwardly lilts. "That sounds lovely."

A self satisfied smirk settles on your mother's face. "See? It's fine."

"Why are there so many forks?" Bucky whispers under his breath.

"Just work your way in," you reply as quietly as you can.

"Do you change forks every bite or somethin'?" It's half an attempt at a joke, half an honest question.

"In between courses."

"Courses?"

Before you can answer Bucky's question, your mother is already beginning her interrogation. "So, James, tell us about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," Bucky replies. "I was born and raised down in Brooklyn."

Your father snorts, "Really?"

You're not quite sure if Bucky catches the sarcastic lilt to your father's question or if he really does just try to rise above it. It's hard to tell with how he rolls with the punches. "Yes, sir."

"Any siblings?" your mother asks.

"I'm the oldest of four, ma'am."

"Any plans for your life?" your father finally pipes in.

"Dad," you hiss.

Your father shrugs, "It's an honest question."

Once again, it rolls off of Bucky's back. "Well, I'm workin' at a garage right now. Me and my friend, Steve, we're hopin' to buy it out. We've just about saved enough between the two of us to buy it from the ol' man when he's ready to retire."

"A man with a plan. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." You're sure that you hear Bucky's sigh of relief as he finds his footing. You can practically see his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your daughter tells me that you have an impressive collection yourself."

You weren't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but by the end of the night, Bucky is talking to your parents like they're old friends.

You're not even sure why you're that surprised, you hated him up until the moment you succumbed to his charm.

As the evening comes to a close, he stands in the doorway, shaking your father's hand again, offering your mother that charming grin once more, "Thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious."

"You're welcome back anytime, James."

"Thank you." You're almost shocked at your mother's open invitation. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. "I'll see ya later."

The three of you stand in the foyer of your house as Bucky walks down the steps and down the driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets. You look up to your father, face filled with hope. "So?"

"He's a nice boy."

You're not sure your grin can get any bigger. "I really like him."

"You'll grow out of it."

Your heart sinks the moment the words leave your father's mouth. "What?"

"It can't come soon enough," your mother groans. "You're far too good for him."

"You don't know him."

"We know his type, dear," your mother condescendingly sighs. "And good girls like you don't belong with boys like that, but I do think it was sweet of you to invite your little infatuation to dinner."

You feel like all the air has been knocked out of you. For a moment tonight, you really thought they were coming around. You truly thought it would all work out for the best. "Infatuation?"

"That's what this is, right?" your father asks, concern painting his expression when he sees the furiously determined look in your face. "You're just... rebelling?"

You look up at your father, shaking your head. "No, no, I'm not just rebelling."

You fought with them the whole night before you went to find him the very next day. They threatened you with everything they could think of. When that didn't work, they bribed you with everything they could think of. You didn't care for any of it.

The moment you see him, you know he knows. You're not sure if he realized it the moment he walked out of your door or if it took him a quick recollection of the night to realize it, but he knows all the same. It looks like he hasn't slept a wink. A deep frown replaces his usual grin. He looks entirely and totally distraught.

He notices you the moment you walk up to his garage just like you did all those times before.

This time, it's obvious is different. There aren't barbed words or verbal jabs. You don't bound into his arms. Even Steve offers you a sad twitch of his lips.

Bucky watches you for a long moment before you break the silence. He reaches into his pocket, lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. "Hi."

"They hated me, right?" He doesn't waste words. Your lips press together in a tight line. He takes a large drag from his cigarette. You can't remember the last time you saw him smoking. He shakes his head, hissing under his breath, "Damn it..."

"Bucky?"

He takes another large pull from his cigarette. Even from feet away, you can smell the nicotine in the air. "Just do it. I understand."

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? Just get it over with."

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand."

"I'm not an idiot, alright?" he spits. "I know I didn't pass their little test, so just call it already."

"Is that really what you thought last night was?"

"What else would you call last night? 'Cause I think I was the butt of the joke from beginnin' to end."

"You were not the butt of the joke, Bucky."

"Oh, please, I fell face first into their punchline."

You suck in a shaky breath, both your own hurt and the cloud of smoke around Bucky burning at your throat, "Is that what you think of me? That I was tryin' to set you up?"

"Yes! No- No! I just - I - Don't you see it?"

"See what?" you demand.

"That I'm not good enough for you!" he desperately exclaims, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. "And everyone else already knows it! Last night proved that!"

"My parents are assholes, Bucky. I came here to apologize for them, to tell you that I don't care what they think."

His voice quiets, the anger melts off his words until all that's left is a heartbreaking sincerity, "You should. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"They don't know you, but I do." You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "And I think you've got everything I want. I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word."

"What did I do to deserve you? My perfect girl." He kisses the back of the hand he hods, using it to tug you closer to him. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him. "What?"

You wrinkle your nose at him. "I hate the smell of smoke."

"I'll quit," he immediately replies.

"You'll quit smoking? Just like that?"

"That surprise you?"

"It's just - Maybe you Brooklyn boys aren't as tough as you think you are," you tease.

He smirks. "Maybe we're not. Maybe I'm not - but I think it's because I'm in love with an Uptown girl."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ golden hour ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. zhongli

synopsis — there is truly nothing better than waking up to the warm feeling of the morning sun and your lover between your thighs; 1.4k words.

— minors do not interact! some somnophilia there at the beginning but it’s quick. oral. fingering. unprotected sex. soft morning sex. overstim. there’s some size kink sprinkled in there. mentions of previous rounds. fem!reader.

you’re not quite sure what wakes you up first — the warm sun rays filtering in through your bedroom window or the firm press of a hot, wet tongue against your sex.

you’ve barely woken up. your mind is still hazy with sleep and your awareness of the world has just begun to dawn. you don’t register it at first, the way your thighs are split and splayed across the mattress or the way a broad body fills the empty space in between. you don’t even know how you found yourself on your back, but in your sleep riddled state you don’t question it. you do know you’re naked, which that’s easily explained by the activities of the night prior. your lack of a barrier allows for quick access to your cunt, and with your thighs spread, you’re on full display and ready for feasting.

zhongli laps at you with his lithe tongue, humming in delight over both your taste and the way you begin to squirm above him as you awaken. his eyes are set upon you and they do not waver; he adores the way your head lifts up when you look at him, your face still blanketed with a sleepy expression he finds all too precious to handle. he smiles against you and sucks your clit before offering a sweet, “good morning, my dearest.”

the sensation of his mouth on you coupled with the raspy texture lacing his deep voice makes you clench around nothing. he suckles at your bud again and your thighs are quick to close around his head, but they don’t get far with his grasp keeping them in place. “zhongli? what —”

he hushes you with another suctioned kiss over your clit. zhongli adores to hear you talk, to listen to whatever it is you want to say, but this morning he’s much more inclined to hear those sweet little breathy moans. “shhh, it’s quite alright. just relax and i shall make you feel good. lay back while i feast on you.” he’s a man of his word, because feasting on you is exactly what he does. you’re delectable, and he finds your pussy to be the most exquisite breakfast he could have. you just looked too sweet when he awoke this morning, too irresistible as you lied there with your hair a mess and his marks littering your skin from your time together during the night; he just had to have you.

pleasure takes over the sleepiness, and your nerves are set aflame with every flick and suck he offers. you’re definitely awake now, but you still feel hazy, feel like you’re floating as he urges you closer to your release. his motions are not rushed, he is in no hurry, but your sensitivity to him has you spiraling towards an orgasm in an alarming rate regardless. “zhongli.” you feel so good, and all you can offer him is a call of his name as you fall apart. you make a mess on his handsome face, and he’s eager to lap up all you have to give.

“you taste divine, dearest,” zhongli compliments, barely removing his mouth enough to speak. his mouth latches onto your pearl while one finger prods at your entrance. you gush when he pushes it in slightly, and the way you mewl has him smiling against you. “in all my years, i’ve never tasted anything as sweet as you.”

you keen when he pushes his digit through your folds. your walls are quick to wrap around it as it searches for that specific spot nestled within. he’s quick to find it, and you moan loudly when he crooks his finger to graze against it just the way you like. his tongue is still relentless against your clit and you’re going mad with the onslaught of pleasure. “oh, zhongli!”

he hums. another finger joins the first and you’re bowing off the mattress at the stretch. “and to think, i get to savor you forever more.” his fingers churn your insides and fill the room with the most lewd of squelches while his tongue flutters over your sensitive bud.

you can’t handle the pleasure nor the way his amber gaze remains set on you; he’s so overwhelming, almost too much for your poor self to bear. you wiggle as your skin flushes in a blush. you’re so close again and it’s so all consuming you fear you might explode. “zhongli, i — hah — i’m gonna cum again!”

“of course, dearest. go ahead and fall apart for me. let me taste you once more.”

and you’re so obedient to him. with his gentle command, you climax for a second time on his tongue, his fingers working themselves in and out to allow you to ride out every bit of your high. your body wiggles in his hold. you’re overstimulated, and yet your hole clenches and unclenches with a need to be filled again once he removes his fingers from you. you’re quick to reach for his hair when he kisses up your body.

“so beautiful,” zhongli coos just as his face hovers over yours. he presses a sweet kiss against your lips and you hum at the taste of you that lingers. he’s sitting up before you can really deepen the embrace, his large hands tracing the curves of your waist down to your hips. “you make it so hard to resist you when you look so breathtaking like this.”

he’s praising you just as he always does, yet you can’t help but feel as if you should be praising him. as he looks down upon you, the silhouette of him is bathed in the morning sun, the intricate golden designs down his arms glittering in the light. he’s glowing and he looks every bit like the divine being that he is, and you think that he looks the most stunning within this golden hour. “zhongli, i need you.”

zhongli chuckles at your neediness while his hands squeeze your hips affectionately. his smile makes your heart and your pussy flutter. “you have me, my dearest.” he doesn’t miss the way you gaze up at him, eyes alight with desire and adoration. many have looked upon him with awe, with reverence, but none can compare to the way you look at him like he is the center of your entire world.

he’s fisting his erection and you watch with awe, swallowing thickly at the sight of his heavy, leaking girth. your thighs spread further apart when he presses his tip against your clit; you moan helplessly at the action, walls fluttering as you await for that delicious stretch you know is coming. “how do you always fit inside me?” it’s an offhand question, but you can’t help the way it slips out; you’re always so enraptured by the fact he always manages to settle himself so perfectly inside you despite how large he is. every time.

your lover huffs out a breathless laugh as he pushes against your slick opening. he can feel the way you flutter, your walls already so desperate to suck him in. your sweet, tiny little pussy, always the most perfect resting place for his cock. “because you are made for me.”

he pushes himself in and your head lolls against the pillows as you moan at the stretch; it’s so much, he is so much, but your sodden cunt welcomes him inch by incredible inch. he’s halfway in when you start to squirm, hands clambering until you find purchase at his wide shoulders. “s’much, s’good!”

zhongli bends over your form to nuzzle his nose against your cheek. this angle allows him to nestle the rest of himself inside your snug warmth and he sighs out at the way you hug him so perfectly. “precious girl,” he groans as he rolls his hips into yours. “my precious, darling girl.”

your arms interlock around his shoulders as you bring him closer. he’s got you pressed into the mattress as he begins to move in you, his hips gliding to and fro at such a slow pace that you can’t help but feel the graze of every single vein on his thick cock. you’re so warm, everything is warm from the heat between your bodies to the morning sun that fills the room. “i love you, zhongli. i,” you moan, “love you so much.”

he adores the melody of your voice, and the harmony of the wetness as he fills you repeatedly. his lips trail down your face, down your neck. “and i love you, my dearest.”

nat’s notes — was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgot :’)) anyways, enjoy this little bit of zhongli brain rot fic!!

[bebemoon]

look for the name: WENDOVER

@missanthropicprinciple

pa33word "goddess myth" hanky hem knit angel print dress

aganovich medieval-inspired soft white cloth booties, s/s 2o17

{beauty} tati gabrielle @ nyfw 2o23, makeup by laurel charleston

the harmonist "sacred water" eau de parfum

my dearest world "angel" freshwater pearl collar w/ cross pearl pendant

[justl-12]

pspsps another drawing request! my dearest scarlet pearl perchance?

I spent so long trying to fix the colours because the colours would become duller when i made it a png

[gentaro-kinniecom]

Love and deepspace hcs!☆

Characters: Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne

C/w: none! Fluffy head canons for the main love interests in game!

A/n: hi guys! It’s been quite a long time :) i hope everyone has been doing well! Recently I’ve been obsessed with this game, the graphics and art is so good..hope you all enjoy!

Rafayel;

Apart from being sassy, deep down Rafayel loves your company. You’re the only one who stands him, despite his “bratty humor”, and more so how he wants to be your center of attention 100% of the time

Rafayel adores aquarium dates, or ones that involve his art, like an art exhibit that he meticulously prepared with his entire being. He thinks you’re cute whenever you point at one of his paintings; the same one that he dedicated for you

The only thing he expects from you the most is your time and dedication like said before, although, he loves it when you buy him things like fruits or ocean-themed plushies (even if he doesn’t admit to having 5 plushies on his bed)

Rafayel will definitely tease you by saying he didn’t get you anything when he’s not even trying to hide the jewelry box behind his back. Which in fact, is filled with family heirlooms and things like jellyfish inspired earrings or a whale bracelet..he intends in marrying you one day so it means a lot to him how you accept it!

Has the most exclusive nicknames for you, like his flower, the shine of his eyes, his ocean pearl..they’re mostly related sea terms but nothing out of the ordinary.

Xavier;

Always has a spare set of pijamas whenever you come over to stay during the night. Sometimes, he’ll match with you while in others, Xavier wears little clothing if it’s a hot summer night

His favorite type of dates is going to the observatory during a cold night, especially if he gets to share a blanket under the stars with you

Xavier is more of a simple guy, he doesn’t like over the top expensive gifts and would prefer things like flowers, a new bedsheet set, plushies…

However, when it comes to gift you things, Xavier would do anything (even if it was impossible to do so) like bringing down a star from the night sky for you. He opts in giving you a star/sun necklace that matched with his moon one

Xavier isn’t used to calling you his, although it’s cute whenever he gets shy, holding your hand while walking under the stars whenever he gets the chance to do so. But his favorite nickname is “his star”

Zayne;

Even with his busy schedule, Zayne makes time for you, or invites you to spend lunch with him. After all, he was pleased to see you smile while interacting with the restaurant’s cat.

He loves outdoor dates since he’s cooped up in an office most of his time, although Zayne wouldn’t mind inviting you to a restaurant or going to an arcade during the afternoon

Zayne loves to give you jewelry, simple things like charms for your bracelet or rings that end up matching with his and he will never ask for anything back. He actually dislikes seeing you spend money for him, after all, he wouldn’t hesitate to spoil his beloved

Even if he hates it when you spend money on him, Zayne is fond of flowers and keeps some in his home. You also buy him a phone case with a small cat design because his phone is in need of one.

Loves calling you his beloved, even more behind closed doors. Nicknames like my love, dearest, darling are his favorites for you

[emperorpearl-ofthefarmlands]

Childhood story!

When I was a child my older cousin, Wizard Gem, and I would play pretend fantasy scenarios!

We even made our own two original characters, they were sisters! Hers was the royal alchemist while mine was a brave knight :)

I was a bit obsessed with the whole "true love" fairy tale trope at the time, almost all books I read were about it. Id always make up different partners, mostly royals, for me to rescue and fall in love with

I tried giving her a partner many times til she sat me down and explained how it made her uncomfortable

We then had a long talk where she helped me understand not every story needs to end in romance, how not every princess or prince will fall in love with who rescues them and how knights often just save people in need cause its their job! Also how not only girls needed rescue, you dont need to be a damsel to be in distress

She used me and Sausage as an example. How he would often get in trouble and need one of us to help him. How it often was me. I was his knight, but we were just family. She went on to say that they could also be friends, or simply strangers! Maybe someone just needs help and a hero will save them without expecting anything in return.

I walked out of her room that night with a huge shift on my world view. Pretty sure I wasnt even on double digits yet, but I understood most of what she said. She was very patient with me too, and said that some things would make more sense once I grew up. She was right.

I think about that a lot. I'm so very greatful for her. I thought I'd share that story with you all today!

I appreciate my family a lot, right now Gem in particular, she really taught me a lot, most core life leasons I got were from her. She always guided me through the right path even with all her own struggles.

She's a wonderful woman, a wonderful wizard, and a wonderful cousin&sister. Thank you, Gem ♡

[nymphiria]

♱ : 𝐈’𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃… — SUNDAY!

fem!reader, fluff, in love with sunday’s wings, he’s a little floofy, possessive sunday if you squint, i wanna bite him :), definitely didn’t proofread but i came out of the woodworks for this man

there’s something that you’d noticed about 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 that for some reason you hadn’t before. it wasn’t the way that he preened himself in the mirror before a meeting, nor was it how he pinched the bridge of his nose whenever an issue was placed upon his desk. the oak family head was pristine — every detail on and of his person was hard to miss. so, how is it that you never took note of it before?

the new dress that you purchased from a boutique in golden hour was simply gorgeous. the ornamentation that decorated the silky garment glimmered under the glow of your bedroom lights. as you admired yourself in the mirror, the soft click of the bedroom door alerted you to your lover’s arrival. you giddily ran into the bathroom before he had the chance to see you.

“dearest?”, he called, brows furrowed at the thought of where you might be. with your voice muffled from behind the door, you answered, “in here!”

moments later, you opened the door and twirled to show off all of the lace and pearls that you were dreaming about wearing for weeks on end. it took an enormous amount of effort to hide such a purchase but you felt that the wait would be worth it. if one thing about sunday was true, it was that he adored seeing you all dolled up — especially for him.

truly, in sunday’s eyes, you looked like the most divine creation that would ever grace the universe with its presence. he wanted every facet of you — body, mind, and soul. part of him wanted to drop to his knees and thank his god for blessing him with your existence, though the other felt a twinge of embarrassment for his internal thoughts. stunned in both shock and revelry, his face only portrayed minimal expression besides his now open mouth and wide eyes.

for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel that he was …disappointed in what he saw. was your dress not pretty enough? did it not suit your body as much as you thought it did? perhaps he felt it was unwise to spend as much money as you did on something as unnecessary as a new dress. before the feelings of doubt could sink its way in, the wings adorning your lover’s head flapped once, then twice — fluffy feathers puffing out and making him look even softer.

“d-did your,” you stuttered in surprise. “did they just…“ the seemingly stoic look on sunday’s face was quickly replaced by a deep flush from his cheeks to his neck. the halovian’s wings desperately attempted to cover his blushing face but did little to help ease his embarrassment.

looking back, you can distantly recall hearing the quiet flutter of feathers the first time you kissed your lover on the cheek. his expression then did little to betray how flustered he truly was on the inside. he remained as poised as he always did only with a light pink dusting his cheeks. just how many times were you oblivious to the sight?

a wide smile spread across your face as moved towards your lover to stroke through his hair. “so,” your hand moved to play with his feathers. “i’m assuming you like the dress, then?”

“of course i do,” he looked away from your playful gaze. “you always look stunning in everything you put on.”

you giggled, “well then, mr. sunday, why have i not seen your wings jump at anything else i wear? you almost flew away when you saw this dress.”

sunday gently removed the hand that was stroking his hair to cup the warmth of his cheek, “simply put…”

“it would be rather improper to show just how weak you make me.”

[deadghosy]

How Slytherin boys react to a Coquette or girly girl type girlfriend? Liking bows, plushies, pearls, lip gloss, pink and cute things... And smells like vanilla or strawberries too?

How Slytherin boys react to a coquette lover

Warning: idk this may be bad since I haven’t written a request in months. Modern au, light suggestive, protectiveness and obsessive behavior

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Tom Riddle

He’s your dark prince, and your his beautiful princess 🤭

He says he hates that fruity smell of strawberries, but when you aren’t with him. He secretly craves your smell a lot. It’s intoxicating

Definitely the type to see you stare at something long, and he would buy it.

Say you kissed him with a lot of gloss on your lips, he’s licking his lips as he kisses your head💗💗

Possessive over you. Has his hand on your back out in public, he’s not much of a pda person. But if a guy is staring hard at you, he doesn’t waste time to switch sides.

Definitely puts his head in your neck when you’re doing your makeup.

Surprisingly a slight softie with you. Despite his cold charms, you warm his heart up.

“Would you like a bow in your hair dear?”

Mattheo Riddle

He absolutely likes when you kiss him with glossed up lips. He smiles when you kiss his face, it shows off how he’s yours. And he leaves hickeys to show off that your his.

Absolutely obsessed with you. The moment you became his, he was like a snake wrapping around its prey when it came to you. Literally arms wrapped around your body.

Sometimes mattheo is so submissive when you call him your pretty boy, complimenting his eyelashes as he gives you those puppy eyes.

God forbid to get jealous, he gets terribly jealous when some dude will stare at you.

And you know how bad he can get, he once put a guy in a hospital as you had Tom bail his brother out.

It was a funny memory, but god did you find it hot when he got protective about you.

Sometimes when he catches you putting gloss on, he stands behind you and points to his neck.

“I adore how your lip gloss looks on my neck babe.”

Draco Malfoy

He’s spoiling the hell out of you. He loves being your boyfriend, though realistically he hates how much he spends on you and your pink habit

Shoes? Pink. Clothes? Pink. Perfume and lipsticks. All pink all day every day.

He loves how cute you are showing him off your pretty pink sundress. It makes him smile seeing you get so giddy.

“What’s that perfume name? I’ll buy you more of that.” He says as he picks up a small bottle of perfume that you were using.

It smelt so good, and you looked so elegant with those pearls around your neck.

He likes to put them on your neck, with his cold hands touching your neck as well.

“I’ll buy you any pearls you like my dearest..”

Theodore Nott

“My principessa…ti amo.”

That’s what he always says to you as he just adores your style. It’s cute on you and it fits your personality.

The smells of strawberries and vanilla always makes him hungry. You just smells so good.

He brought you a pink bracelet with his initials in them. He was happy that you were even happy that he got you the bracelet.

Definitely gives you princess treatment

The smell of your vanilla perfume and lotion makes his head spin, how could you smell so damn good

“You smell so good, I could just eat you.”

Lorenzo Berkshire

Adores you to the point he would do anything for you.

Pay for your nails, he got it done. Pay for your hair, it’s done sweetheart.

You’re so beautiful it makes his heart melt every time you smile at him.

He always has his head in your neck, smelling into that strawberry scent you have on. Why couldn’t you just stick to him all the time.

Plushies? DONT WORRY! He’s buying you more gorgeous.

Anything for his beautiful girlfriend.

He loves the cute plushies and cute things you wear

It makes him break into his own soft boy era as he will sleep by your plushies waiting for you to come home

And when you do, he gets so happy to see you. Laying his head on your lap.

“Cuddle me like your plushies my love..”

I appreciate reblogs, comments, and such as likes.

[monamipencil]

— venus in furs | l.cn

⋆ summary; portraying lee chan as an example for simp from the 19th century. or in which, he's the biggest loser for you.

⋆ pairings; chan x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, fluff, friends (?) with benefits, 19th century! au ⋆ w.c; 2.5k+ ⋆ warnings; chan is the biggest simp, lots of praising and body worship, oral (f. receiving), foot job (m. receiving), service top! chan, also subby! chan, unprotected sex (19th century condoms are horrendous), multiple orgasms, SIMP CHAN ALERT ⋆ a/n; here she is!! i'm always down for writing simp! chan. this is my first time writing a victorian era fic, let me know how you guys like it <3

your heat throbs between your legs as the man before kisses down your knees with a passion that rivals the fire crackling behind him. you card your fingers through his soft brown locks and sigh softly, leaning back on the canapé.

“we should stop this,” Chan freezes at your cold yet tender voice. he looks up at you, distraught brewing in his beautiful eyes.

“my lady, have I done you any wrong? have I offended you?” he says, tone laced with a desperateness that breaks your heart.

but you're in no place to enjoy the worship he bestows upon you. you, a small village girl, and he, the heir to a powerful business. and though you rot your days away, fantasizing about marrying him, you know it is not practical.

you think of the gasps and the sneers that the news of your relationship would elicit from society. this was all a game of cat and mouse. you escapes his pursuits and chases and he revels in it, pushing him to pursue you further.

what started as a playful banter ended up in flames of passion and pining. if not careful, it could burn you and leave you with scars. the world is forgiving enough for a rich man but not a poor woman. any woman at that.

“it is not as simple, dearest.” you sigh, resolve, breaking with every passing second.

Chan has never been as devasted. he couldn't imagine a day without kissing your skin and worshipping you as if you were Venus. which you were, in his eyes.

with all his honesty, Chan never thought when he was with you. any rational thought slips from his mind, and you infect him with your warm, soft skin and deep, lusted eyes. the only thoughts that conjure are how to please and make you happy.

even now, as you hold a stake to his heart and threaten to pierce him, he can only think of pleasuring you.

“can I taste you for the last time, my lady?”

his offer knocks the air out of your lungs, and you try not to embarrass yourself by sucking in a sharp breath. your eyes dart towards the darkness of the room, searching for anything to look at but him.

even with the only light in the room behind him, he looks ethereal with Selene resting in his orbs. with hesitancy in your breath, you nod, unable to deny him.

he doesn't waste any time, slipping his hands under the rich silk covering your body. you undo the robe he bought you, one of the many decorating your wardrobe.

he drags his hands up your skin, pushing the robe off you. his groan echoes through the marble walls of his chamber, and his eyes dart over your naked figure.

the glow from the Renaissance fireplace casts you in a mesmerizing light. these are some of the times he envies the hands of a painter. oh, how he wishes to paint and immortalize you in this world.

your nipples harden under his touch, and your heat glistens with desire. you spread your legs, welcoming to have a taste. he places hot kisses on your thighs, slowly moving closer to your core.

you hold in your breath, anticipating his tongue as his breath wafts against your heat. he presses a kiss to the pearl between your folds before placing his tongue flat against your lips.

the sounds that fill the chambers are blasphemous. you toss your head back on the rich fabric of the canapé. your lips turn red, trying to hold in moans as his tongue works wonders on you.

his nose brushes against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. his tongue prods at your core, sucking and slurping. he hums, drinking your sweet nectar as if it's water. one could only describe him as a starved man with the hungry laps of his tongue and lustful moans from his chest.

moon-shaped prints form on your hips under the pressure of his nails. he looks up at you with a passion that trembles you to your core, and your walls break down. wanton moans echo from the back of your throat, and your hips thrust up to meet his starving mouth.

heat courses through your nerves, and sweat coats your body. pressure builds in your stomach, causing you to gasp and thrash under his hold. he slips in a calloused finger to rub the small nub, filling you with pleasure.

your hands fly up to your breasts to play with your nipples. you roll them between your thumb and forefinger. you lock your ankles behind his back, pushing his head further into your core.

the familiar pressure builds up in your stomach, causing your moans to grow louder. you tug his hair roughly and move your hips against his mouth. with another tug of his hair, you come undone. your moans quiet down, but that doesn't stop Chan from licking you dry, not wasting any of your fluids.

he pulls away from your throbbing heat, and your arousal glistens on his chin and lips.

“what would your loved ones think?” you ask between bated breaths.

“what?” a pout graces his lips, and he tilts his head. big, brown eyes tinted with confusion. you suck in a sharp breath and resist the urge to pepper kisses all over him.

“that you love to have your head between a maiden's legs.” it was his turn to breathe sharply, jaw tensing ever so slightly.

“what would they think of you, knowing you begged to have a taste of her?” you lean towards his kneeled figure, tracing a lone finger on the side of his face.

“that you neglect yourself to please her?”

you whisper against his cheeks, lips brushing against his soft skin. he gasps when you press your foot against his crotch. you fall back on the canapé, continuing your ministrations on his groin.

you trace the outline of his shaft with your toe and apply pressure specifically on the tip. he groans and wraps his fingers around your shin, letting you have your way.

he presses a kiss to your knees as if it's your knees that are bruised from passion. you press your sole against his hard cock, and toe his balls.

chan never complains. he always accepts whatever you have to give him with open arms, whether it's an orgasm or a heartbreak. and it's a pity that you only want to bask him in love, but you know it will destroy you in the end. so you gave him cold eyes and snarky remarks. but who knew that he would rejoice in your indifference?

“my love!” he moans, rutting his hips against your foot. even now, he baffles you. he accepts the bare minimum with no complaints and always gives his best in return.

the pet name never fails to make you flush and throb with yearning. you stop your movements, the ache between your legs growing stronger. he whines at the loss of friction and looks at you with longing.

you swiftly pull the robe on your body and stand up. you grab his collar, pulling him up with you. he groans when you roughly push him down on the mattress.

climbing on the bed, you straddle his hips and slot your lips against his in a hot kiss. he immediately responds, one of his hands wrap around your nape and the other rests on your lower back.

he pushes his tongue past your lips and moans at the warm of your mouth. the robe is again stripped from your body and he flips you over, gaining control over you.

the yellow-orange flames paint his skin a beautiful glow and you find yourself lost in his beauty. chan kisses you like a man depraved from any touch all his life. it's all teeth and tongue and gasps for breath.

he inhales in your scent and kisses your neck in a rushed manner. his hands wander all over your body, trying to find purchase anywhere he can. his teeth bruises your skin and his lips soothe the bruises right after.

and his clothes come undone one by one, till you're both laying naked on the velvet sheets of his bed. his cock grazes the inside of your thigh, a premonition of what's about to unfold.

his lips descend to your nipples, wrapping his lips around it. an undignified moan leaves you as his warm tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. he sucks obediently on the bud, occasionally teething on it. he switches to the other bud, doing the same before continuing his descent.

he leaves a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts to the mound of your heat. his eyes are closed and eyebrows knitted in concentration as he does so. he stops and looks up at you, the flames in his eyes burn brighter than that of the wood fire.

he offers a small kiss to your clit before mounting you again, placing his hands on either side of your torso. you're rendered speechless when he kisses your forehead, gently.

“I could not care less about what others think.” his breath is even and the assurance in his eyes sends a flurry of emotions coursing through your veins.

he chuckles at your gaped mouth and the break in your character amuses him.

“what did you expect from this fool that can only think of you? hmm?” a gentle yet playful smile plays on his lips. your flushed expression overjoys him.

he shifts, positioning himself before your slick core. the bulbous head of his shaft prods your lips and he gently caresses the soft skin of your waist. he leans down, pressing a series of kisses from your temple to the corner of your lips.

“I burn for you, by my body and heart.”

he kisses you with burning passion and his sentence is punctuated by pushing his cock inside you. the stretch is delicious and you moan at the contact, hips rushing to meet his.

your slick arousal makes it easier for him. he enters you with ease and you moan in unison when he bottoms out. he pulls out before sinking back in. he follows it till he finds a comfortable pace to split you open.

you hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips. the heel of your foot digs into his back, and your nails leave red imprints on his skin. your lips has a mind-numbing grip on his cock. he pursues a relentless pace that molds your insides to the shape of his cock.

your walls flutter around him and you cling to him, desperately. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he thrusts harder, the sound of skins slapping reverberate off the marble walls.

the bed creaks with each movement of his hips. you moan, and throw your head back with a roll to your eyes. the sound of your slick every time your hips meet is sinful.

“kiss me, please. please.” Chan begs you with urgency. as if he'd succumb to death if you didn't oblige.

you rake up your nails up his back and eye his bruised lips, licking your own. a sultry haze swirls in your eyes and he's mesmerized by them. his pace slows down, involuntarily and you cradle his face before smashing your lips to his.

Chan whines and whimpers into your mouth, his hips meeting yours erratically. the orange embers from the fire place illuminates him in a heavenly aura. you dig your heels into his back, forcing him to move harder.

the pressure builds in your stomach again and you feel light-headed. Chan thrusts into you with passion and your slick drips down from your thighs.

“I love you,” you gasp at a certain hard thrust, and his confession kindles a new fire inside of you.

“I admire you,” he punctuates with a soft kiss to your temple and thrusts harder.

“god, you're so beautiful.” he cries, holding you tighter. you do the same, and rest your head on his neck. you kiss his neck, peppering him with red blemishes.

with another hard thrust, you come undone, moaning and whimpering his name. he pulls out, jerking off before he spills warm, white ropes of semen on your stomach and thighs.

he falls on the mattress beside you and pulls your body closer. soft apologies spill from his lips as he peppers kisses on your skin to make up for his roughness.

you catch your breath and melt into his arms. the fire has died down, leaving the room cold and dark but Chan keeps you warm. his hands caress your skin and he looks at you with such admiration that makes him cry.

the heat of the passion died down, leaving room for soft vulnerability. his fingers entwine with yours and he holds you as if you're the most sought after price in all of the world.

“I love you,” you admit and he freezes, mind buffering as he processes your words. he searches your face for any insincerity but he's met with none. you offer him a gentle smile and a warm hug.

he melts into your embrace and you hear a few sniffles. you chuckle, rubbing and patting his back. but he pulls away, leaving you confused.

you see his naked back disappear behind the room divider and he soon emerges with a wet cloth. a hiss falls from your lips when he presses it on your heat, cleaning you up. he apologizes with a sheepish smile and a blush on his face.

a few minutes have passed and you're laying on his muscular chest, waiting for slumber to take you over. he clears his throat and stops his caresses.

“so, what do you think of marriage?”

he maintains a emotionless visage but you can see the fear dancing in his orbs. you try not to chuckle and give your answer with an even voice.

“a burden,”

“a burden?” he parrots, voice laced with hurt.

you hum, feeling your heart thrum wildly beneath your rib cages. if it weren't for the bony cage, your heart would've ripped it's way out, begging for him to touch it.

“but not to me,” you whisper, kissing his skin. you snuggle into his neck, and you can't see his face but feel him hold in his breath.

“not if it's you.”

he switches positions, hovering over you now. he silently asks for assurance and you nod. he breathes finally, and thanks the lord for answering his prayers. you laugh at that and return his embrace.

he peppers kisses all over you and chuckles with you.

“but dare to cross my heart, and your dick won't be attached to your body anymore.” you threaten but he smiles at you, clearly lovesick.

he kisses down your neck, to your breasts and stomach where he rests his head. he hears your heartbeat thump and he smiles.

“my heart would break before yours, if I were ever to do so, my lady.”

you caress his head, slumber rooting in your body.

“my soul is far too intertwined with yours.”

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