#V décolletage

[gogmstuff]

1908 (June issue) Les Modes - Mlle Barelli Robe du soir par Doucet - photo by Henri Manuel. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed flaws & spots w Pshop 864X1883.

[jewellery-box]

Dress: skirt and bodice

Hungary, c. 1850

The bodice is attenuated, stiffened by fish-bones, closes with lacing at the back. V-shaped neckline at the front and broad, curved décolletage at the back. The waist comes deeply down at the front. Short, set-in sleeves, puffed at the armhole. The skirt is covered by another, shorter skirt with two slots at the front it continues in three frills with jagged ends. The sleeves and the skirt are embroidered and decorated with braids of wooden beads covered with silk thread. Embroidery: white and golden vine leaves among zigzag lines of silver boughs, enriched with scattered flowers of red plush, with feather grass in their middle, as well as with leaves of green silk georgette.

Museum of Applied Arts

[leonkennedygvrl]

My father loves me with every inch of his manhood.

real dad leon x virgin reader

🌹 warning: 18+, p in v, oral (m recieving), creampies, incest, size difference, dead dove, tummy bulge, squirting, rape kink, baby trapping, murder, gore, leon’s gross and weird so beware! and enjoy :)

divider credits to @firefly-graphics

Oh, what a mistake she was! Leon felt a fool for thinking she was the one, maybe the sex was satisfying at first but God slicing through her felt even better. Her pussy was never tight enough anyways, and he’s a man with needs. That’s why he made you watch. Pretty little daughter, hardly resembles her whore of a mother. You’re trapped in a cage down in the basement, watching your daddy straddle your mommy.

And flesh was ripping. Audible. Blood was everywhere, flowing. Her eyes were wide. Just like her wounds as he slowly plunged the knife back inside her body. Again, again, and again. Ignoring your muffled cries, stupid silly girl. It’s okay, he had plans for you.

“Dad—daddy, please stop! She’s dead! Mommy’s dead!” You screamed with all your might, but it only earned a raspy chuckle. You were just… so shocked to be disgusted by your father. And even more so when he stood up and grabbed your mother’s hair, shoving her face against the glass you were behind. A gasp leaving your lips, her face was fucked up. You didn’t want to look at it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hiding behind your palms as you turned away.

“She’s prettier like this, baby. No? You don’t think so?” Leon asked, her neck was slit. A gaping cut, multiple stab wounds over her décolletage. Blood coating her jewellery that he bought her, maybe he’d pass it down to you. That shit was expensive. Plus, you liked pretty things. Pretty girls did. And you were very, very pretty. That’s why he was hard, and it was not because he’d murdered your mother.

Okay, maybe a little bit. He liked the control. He watched you sob, back hunched over that he could see your spine in the cute dress you wore. You were such a sweetheart, your closet consisted of a fashionista’s dream! Heels, frilly socks, garters, purses and accessories. Much better than your mom, she was just basic. At least to him.

“Baby, it’s alright. I love you, that’s all that matters. You don’t need mommy.” He cooed, releasing the grip on her hair and kneeling down, watching as you meekly peeked through to look at him. Soggy tears all clumped together and your lips pouted. He felt his stomach flutter. “Yeah, attagirl. Cm’ere, I’d never hurt you.”

You always wondered why you were just a little bit fucked up in the head, yes mommy’s death hurt but daddy was just so much more important. Mommy couldn’t protect you, her press-ons would probably fall off if she even tried. But daddy was strong and he’d tear down anything to help you. Your shaky hands touched the ground, crawling over to him and pressing your palm against the glass.

“But you hurt mommy.” You doubted. Foolish, right? You expected him to be irritated but his eyes were soft as he looked down at you, but there was something in there. Something dark. Something that wanted to ruin you. He pressed his own palm to the glass, so much bigger than yours. “I miss mom, please… she—she…”

“Shh, don’t worry about her. You gonna let dad come in there with you?” Leon asked, he was dirty with blood but his dick hurt the longer he looked at you. In his eyes, you were perfect. You just needed a little tweaking. His dick could do that.

You looked at your mother’s limp body, wanting to puke. You should’ve hated your dad, but you couldn’t. You actually think you hated your mom a little more, she wasn’t the greatest individual.

Little feet of yours pattered on the ground, you were just a toddler in need of some love. Dad was never around, at least not much. He was gone for weeks at a time, so you’d always go to your mother but she was busy as well. On the phone, talking to Katie. Katie was her best friend since university, and as much as you stood by her legs, grabby hands wanting to be picked up, she paid no mind to you.

“No, no, no. I told her she couldn’t just nitpick about everything, Katie! She just doesn’t listen, and now she wants my advice? That’s not happening.” Your mother scoffed into the phone, hardly sparing you a glance as she shooed you away and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Honestly, I’m glad Mark cheated on her. Maybe that would teach her a lesson.”

Or another time when you were a little older, just beginning elementary school. You were scared. You were never good at socialising, and as your mother opened the car door she ushered you out quickly, still on the phone.

“Oh my, really? That’s great news, I’m sure Graham is a nice guy. Is the ring good? I mean, if he isn’t emptying his wallet on you then he’s probably not going to be a great husband Katie.” Your mother chatted, and you looked up at her, hoping for at least some reassurance.

No, she didn’t care much about you. You were just an annoying addition to the family because Leon wanted children. That’s when she got a little turned off, but she stuck with him because he gave her cash. And while he was off on missions, you observed everything.

Also, the first day wasn’t great. You got bullied.

Teen years you were a little smarter, always eavesdropping on your mother. But she started getting a little TMI with Katie, and you figured it was just the best friend privilege. You didn’t have much of that growing up, kids avoided you.

“He’s perfect, Katie. He has it all, you know? I don’t know why I even bothered with Leon, he’s such a prick sometimes. He doesn’t make any time for me and it’s just frustrating! Like, you know that italian restaurant I told you about? A few months ago, they had an all you can eat and I told him about it and guess what,” your mother rambled, openly admitting her afair. This is where you held a dislike for her deep down because how dare she? “He went on another goddamn mission!”

You thought back to all of that as you stared at your mother’s dead body, maybe dad was right. She deserved this, you don’t know why you felt guilty. So you nodded, and the grim smirk that had crossed his face made you a little uneasy.

Leon stood back up, digging into his pocket for the key to the cage and once he entered, he almost orgasmed in his pants at the sight of you looking up at him from the ground. He shoved you back against the glass, eliciting a little confused noise from your lips before his bulge was in your face and you felt sick.

“Oh, baby. You didn’t think I was going to come in ‘ere and pamper you or something did you?” Leon asked rhetorically, not much care in his tone as he unzipped his jeans and pulled his dick out of the confines. Big, bigger than the ones you’ve seen in porn. Except they were all circumcised and bare to fit standards but he wasn’t, his pubic hair was shaggy and he pulled his foreskin back.

“D—dad, no! This is wrong!” You exclaimed, feeling the bulbous tip press against your lips making you tilt your face to the side.

And now the softness was gone as he grabbed the hair atop your scalp, tugging hard and straightening your head. It hurt, your lips parting in surprise.

“Shut up, pretty. Should be thanking me, mmm..” Leon cut himself off with a groan as he pushed into your warm, wet mouth. Your tears had come back, streaming down your puffy cheeks as your lips stretched around his cock. “Been working for so damn long, providing for you. Got you cute things to make you happy and I got rid of that fickle bitch.”

He felt your throat stutter around his dick as you gagged, making his abdomen clench. Tight mouth, tight pussy, pretty face and a cute body. It made sense though, he made you after all. And he knew that deep down, you liked this shit. You could’ve used your hands to stop him, but you didn’t.

“Hm, smart girl.” He praised, pulling almost all the way out and then shoving his hips forward. A warm and gooey sensation in his gut, he could’ve cum right there. Your mom didn’t like blowjobs, figured it’d give her wrinkles. As if she wasn’t boxed up on botox. That he paid for.

“You just need dad, I know you do.” Leon repeated the action, feeling your hands finally press onto his thighs but you made no attempt go push him off — instead your nails dug into his skin, your vision blurred with tears as you watched him, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

And his words, well, they made your panties feel wet. You didn’t know what it was because the only time it felt like this was when you got your period and didn’t realise you needed pads, you avoided tampons; doing enough research because ignorant momma didn’t want to teach you a thing, and you heard of TSS and it scared you.

Your throat was constricting the harder he thrusted, lips closing around his dick until your cheeks hollowed out. You were sucking his dick, like a popsicle. Because in a depraved way, you liked the taste. It was musky but clean, like he used soap on it or something. And your nose was buried in his pubes each time he bottomed out, different variations of grunts leaving his mouth.

“God, better than your mom. So much better,” Leon moaned weakly, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrusted with increased fervour. He just wanted a taste, he didn’t want to cum inside this pretty mouth. Save that for another day. “But you don’t need to breathe, right baby?”

“Ggmmph—“ You tried, feeling his fingers pinch your nostrils effectively suffocating you as he stilled his movements. Your throat was even tighter now, and he felt jittery, biting down hard on his lip. He always wanted to choke a girl this way.

When you started turning all blue, he pulled out of your mouth and grinned darkly, pulling his hand away as your mascara was running down your face and your nose was all snotty. Cute. He liked the messy type.

“Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” Leon asked condescendingly, putting his hands beneath your armpits and forcing you to stand up as you coughed and stuttered, feeling brainless and dizzy. You couldn’t reply, the world was spinning right now and your dad was about to rape you. And you were letting it happen.

For two reasons, you knew it was absolutely pointless to try and stop him and you didn’t hate this. You remember a few accounts on twitter that post incel porn and you would cum faster to that, rubbing your clit.

“Time to test your pussy, but I hope you don’t mind honey. Dad doesn’t have a woman now, you made me kill her.” Leon muttered, bunching the hem of your dress up at your hips and pressing his fingers against the soaking wet gusset of your panties, feeling your engorged clit.

“You little slut, you’re getting off to this. You’re wetter than ever,” He degraded meanly, pulling them to the side and rubbing the head of his dick against your slit, watching as you jumped and convulsed, head tilting back against the wall as you weakly protested. “Daddy’s dick is just crying for this pussy, baby. Be a good girl and take it, okay?”

You sobbed, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his dick into your entrance and then shoved it inside, breaking your hymen almost instantly as you squealed from the harsh intrusion and immediately grabbed his shoulders.

“F��fuck, fuck! Dad!” You cried, hearing his shaky exhale as you clenched down repeatedly. He was too big, you could feel him in your stomach. You tried pushing him away, but then his large hands snaked around your hips, pulling you up and straight back down onto his throbbing cock.

“You’re… a fucking virgin?” He questioned, shaking his head and then laughing mockingly. His sweet girl was cursing now, that was new. He thrusted at a slew rate, one hand moving up your body, touching the bulge in your lower abdomen, ghosting over your breasts and then grabbing your chin.

He squished your wet cheeks together, pursing your lips like a fish as whined.

“Answer me, baby. Tell me you’re a sweet virgin.” Leon said, tightening his grip painfully when you didn’t answer making you flutter around his dick. Slick gushing down his heavy balls, the plap, plap, plap noises reverberating through the basement.

“I—I’m a… sweet virgin, daddy..” You whispered, eyes opening wide to look up at his reprobated face, though he looked a little red himself as he moved his hips rhythmically feeling your chubby pussy pull his dick in like a suction cup.

“Yeah, a sweet virgin turned whore.” Leon mocked, stilling his hips until his tip pressed against your cervix, watching as your expression contorted into a mix of pain and perverted pleasure. If he was a better man, he’d feel guilty. But the blood on his hands served to say that he was maybe a little, or a lot, deranged. And it’s alright because he knew you were too.

“Dad… please,” you moaned, feeling too full. You needed him to move, to touch your abandoned clit, to give you something other than the pain you were feeling. “Please just… move, just fuck me.”

Leon tilted his head, had he really corrupted your little brain? He hummed, resuming his movements and watching as your lips parted in a silent gasp, and then the punched out moans that escaped you. Yeah, he knew it. You were a perfect little thing, toes curling the harder he got, the frilly socks were a little stained and looked miniature in comparison to his boots.

“I am fucking you, honey.” He muttered, pressing a few kissed along your jawline as your head leaned up and your eyes rolled back when his fingers ghosted across your clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive bud. “Cute little pussy need a baby inside it, right?”

There you go, with a shaky scream you clenched down hard on his dick. The words were enough to bring a clear liquid squirting out of your pussy, his hips stuttering as he moaned, you were just convulsing, back arching into him as your breasts bounced until they were peeking out of your dress.

“Yeah, you do. Fuck, squirting around me like a goddamn slut.” Leon grunted, voice a little more hoarse at this point. He was nearing his own orgasm, and he wanted to fill you up completely. He wanted to do so much to you. He wanted to crawl up inside you and watch his sperm take, watch the entire beautiful process of conception.

He thrusted a couple more times before pausing inside, his warm and gooey cum filling your womb up completely until you felt like it would leak out of your mouth.

The beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead made the front strands of his hair a little wet as he watched you pant and tremble in his hold, his arms wrapping around the arch of your back and holding you against him. Yeah, he was a dickhead but he cared.

“You’re perfect, baby. Such a good girl.” He murmured, kissing the top of your face as you melted into his embrace. He didn’t bother pulling out. “Gotta keep you plugged up.”

A million times better than your mother, and speaking of which he’d need to dispose of her stupid body. Maybe after another round, and then a bath. And then a night of sleep.

[lateatnewyork]

Listen- I had an idea. I was thinking about a Lucien Vanserra and the reader feeking the bond snap? But Lucien feeling like he's not worthy of her but she tells him how pretty his eyes are? Even with the scar? I was thinking of adding the prompt 32 angst and 12 fluff maybe.

Scars and All

Lucien x Archeron!reader, Helion x reader (father, daughter dynamic)

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Prompts: Fluff- “I wish you could see the way I see you,” Angst- “You… why did it have to be you?”

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister has always been ignored and rejected by everyone. When she finally finds her mate in the Day Court who thought her heart could’ve broken more at the rejection of someone who was made to love her?

a/n i legit could not find any good headers for this so i downloaded 6 billion of them from pinterest, my sister had made this dress for herself and i had direct access to it thats why the description is so long 😭 im trying a new thing with describing facial features and stuff like that more lmk if u like it or not. ✨ not edited ✨

There was a ball in Day Court, almost all high fae were invited, and as the sister in law to the High Lord of Night Court it was compulsory for all of us to be there.

The dress I'm wearing is a masterpiece of intricacy and elegance, designed to captivate and command attention. Crafted from the finest materials, it combines delicate silk and ethereal lace, creating a harmonious blend of softness and sensuality. The color chosen is a rich midnight blue, reminiscent of the starry night sky that blankets the Night Court.

The bodice of the dress is a work of art, adorned with intricate silver and sapphire beadwork that accentuates the curves of the wearer. It plunges low, revealing a hint of the wearer's décolletage, while thin, delicate straps grace the shoulders, adding a touch of allure. The back of the dress dips in a graceful V, teasing a glimpse of smooth, exposed skin.

From the waist, the dress cascades into a flowing skirt, made of layers of diaphanous silk that sways with every step. The fabric is sheer and airy, allowing a tantalizing view of the wearer's legs as she moves, creating an alluring dance between modesty and seduction. The hemline is asymmetrical, with delicate lace trim that adds a touch of whimsy and femininity.

As I move, the dress catches the light, shimmering and sparkling like a constellation in the moonlit sky. It exudes an air of confidence and sophistication, empowering the woman who wears it to embrace her inner strength and beauty.

The dress wasn't my first choice though. My first choice was an indigo dress with a sweetheart neckline, that showed just enough of my cleavage to not be named as slutty. It had a slit that showed my whole right leg, but Elain had liked that dress after she saw it in my wardrobe, so I gave it to her.

She always got what she wanted.

I wasn't a type of feminine beauty like my sisters. They all had graceful features and beautiful dainty blonde hair. Nesta and I were the most similar with our sharp features.

But that's where the similarities ended.

My hair was a lustrous cascade of ebony strands, shimmered like a moonless night sky, reflecting an ethereal sheen with every subtle movement. Its glossy surface captured the light, revealing depths of darkness that held an irresistible allure.

Once I had slipped my heels on, I headed down the stairs where everyone else was waiting for me. My lips curved into a sly smile when everyone's attention was on me, glancing over the room, my eyes stopped at Elain. Her dress (my dress) was falling at all the wrong places.

She wasn't as curvy as me, Nesta and Feyre. I don't get why she would want the dress, it's obviously not fitting her properly. Ignoring Elain's incessant huffing, I head to Nesta and Cassian.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, sister,” I compliment, giggling.

“I love this dress on you,” she gushes.

Nesta was my best friend, my confidant, the sister who cared for me.

“But I would’ve loved to have seen the other dress on you,” she continues. “You shouldn’t have given it to Elain,”.

“Oh it’s fine, look at the absolute beauty I have found instead,” I reassure.

“Elain are you sure you don’t want to change your dress,” Feyre asks.

Nesta and I snicker behind our hands, Elain turns around towards us and I watch in glee as her faces turns into a scowl.

“I’m fine can we leave already” she snaps.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Cassian winnows Nesta, Rhysand and Feyre, Azriel and Elain, while Mor winnows me.

Landing outside the day court palace, I mentally take in the beauty of the place. The sandy blocks making the palace and the beautiful candles hung at every corner. There truly is no darkness.

I look down at my dress, skepticism glazes over my face. I shouldn’t have worn such an eye catching dress.

How was I meant to know that there would be lights everywhere?

Cauldron fucking boil me.

After some mindless chatter with Feyre about how excited she is to show me her paintings. We’re escorted inside to see the High Lord of the Day Court lounging on his throne, looking like the childish playboy he is. Even though he was centuries old.

His beauty was otherworldly, the way his onyx locks cascaded down his back like they were paid to do so. Piercing amber orbs stared down at everyone. Clad in only a white fabric that was draped over him, he had an easy going presence to him. The sharp points of his golden crown glinting under the bright lights.

But the vision next to him put the Night Court stars to a shame. He was the sun personified. Tan skin, lighter than his father’s but darker than mine. Auburn red hair, similar to his father’s in length, rested along his back. A scar ran from just above his eyebrow to his jaw. His eyes met mine, maroon and golden. His features picked apart weren’t attractive but somehow together on him, he looked like a god.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes blurred in and out of focus. Once they went back to normal I saw a single golden thread tugging. My eyes followed the thread back to Lucien.

I ran outside. Mother’s tits, I found my mate.

I gave an experimental tug on the bond revelling in the feeling of being complete. Tugging on it again, I let him know I wanted to see him.

Sitting there on the roof, I waited for five minutes, then ten, soon twenty and as quickly as my hope had been born it had faded away. But still remnants of it remained, maybe he couldn’t get away so soon, after all he was the heir to the Day Court.

Holy shit, he was the heir to the Day Court, what if he wanted nothing to do with me?

My thoughts spiralled one after the other.

A throat cleared behind me. Turning around to look at Lucien, I beckon him over.

“I’m Y/N, I already know who you are so introductions won’t be necessary” My attempt at a joke fails.

Finally taking a closer look at his face, I take in the pained expression. “Are you all right?” concern laces my voice, I stand up and whisper, “Have you had enough to eat you look like you’re about to pass out,”.

I’m about to leave and grab him some food, when he speaks, “You… why did it have to be you?”.

I freeze in place, I don’t dare to turn around. My mind flashes with memories of Feyre not wanting to teach me archery because she was busy, or how the boys at Rita’s never even looked at me, or how Elain took it upon herself to make me hate everything about me, or how everyone had their other half and I had just found mine. But not even a full hour of knowing me he hated me.

And somehow after all those years of rejection, self hatred and jealousy my heart broke one last time.

I assume he could feel it through the bond, as I wasn’t all that used to blocking people out of my mind yet.

I run down the stairs to get off the roof, to get as far away from him as possible.

Finally, finding an unoccupied balcony on the opposite side of the palace, I settled there, sobbing my broken heart out. The kohl from my eyes streaming down my face. My fingers red from rubbing my stinging eyes.

I looked around at the material of the dress pillowing around me. Such a waste of such a breathtaking dress.

Soft crying filled the room, my ears were ringing as I hadn’t heard the High Lord of Day Court enter.

“My dear, may I ask what’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

Gasping I stood up and did a sorry excuse of a curtesy, “High Lord” I bowed my head.

“Helion is fine,”

He sat down right next to the place where I was sitting. His muscled arm gently tapped the spot beside him as an invitation.

I sit down, smoothing my skirts out.

As if he can sense the awkwardness he clears his throat and says “We can stay quiet or we can talk about my son or your mate?”.

My eyes widen in shock. “How do you know me?” I mutter out.

“Sunshine I’m the High Lord of Day Court and unbeknownst to you, Rhysand talks a lot about you during meetings so most of the high lords consider you a little sister, but for me you’re like the daughter I never had,” he confesses.

A man I had not met before today, considered me his daughter, and six other high lords think of me as a little sister. My eyes well up in tears, my father had been one of the only people other than Nesta to ever truely care about me. And I had cried for months when he died.

To have someone think of me as their daughter again brought out a fresh wave of tears.

As if reflex, my head rests against Helion’s shoulder, we gaze into the night sky, in a comfortable silence. A strong hand reaches out and softly taps my head in a soothing rhythm.

“It’s ok sunshine.” he whispers.

After a while my tears stain my cheeks, Helion speaks up “I think you should give your mate another chance, I think you’ve mistaken his intentions,”.

Taking in his advice, I wordlessly stand up and hug the high lord. “Thank you” I breathe out.

Pulling away, I walk through corridors in search of Lucien.

A hand grabs mine and pulls me into a dark corner, while another hand muffles my screams.

I’m about to put the training Cassian gave me into use when I see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes.

“You can’t scream, I just wanted to talk to you,” he pleaded. Once his hand reluctantly leaves my mouth, I nod as a signal for him to keep going.

“When I said what I said before, I didn’t mean it as if you weren’t good enough for me,” he started. “I meant it as I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” My eyes soften at his words. “I mean yes I am devastatingly handsome,” I roll my eyes at his smug words, unable to hide my own smile when his lips twitch upwards.

“But I don’t think I could ever be good enough for you, a thousand lifetimes over,” he whispers, impossibly close to me but at the same time painfully far away.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Lucien,” I mumble cupping his cheek. “Please have me,” he murmurs.

I grab his face gently and fuse our lips together.

“I’m yours, if you’re mine,”

a/n i’m sorry girl dad!helion is just too good to resist and like imagine being like a little sister to all the high lords (instead of heron it’d be eris), hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

[thepaperpanda]

Everyone might’ve heard us - Bucky Barnes headcanons & drabble

Summary: a set of headcanons & a little drabble for drunk sex with Bucky

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v), semi-public sex, drunk sex, female reader

Author: Fenrir

A/N: Today's prompt is: drunk sex.

Masterlist

Everything becomes incredibly heightened when alcohol courses through his veins.

Barnes may be a little more aggressive in his sexual advances. 

Get ready to be thoroughly dominated and fucked mercilessly.

He's consistently forgetful about using condoms.

When he's drunk, Bucky becomes more interested in the idea of public sex - the mere possibility of getting caught red-handed is driving him wild.

Under normal circumstances, he can stifle his moans when you work your magic on his neck, but with the assistance of alcohol, he's a cacophony of pleasure - he’ll groan louder and more often.“Fuck, doll, you’re going to leave a trail of hickeys on my neck, aren’t ya?”

He'll thrust with unrestrained intensity, abandoning his usual caution as he seeks to pleasure you. He will be unstoppable.

Picture this: you both in front of a mirror, where he'll force you to watch how his thick cock slides in and out of your pussy. “You like that, babe? Look at that. My dick fits you fucking perfectly.”

And when he's inebriated, he tends to get a bit cheeky, chuckling as your body jolts because of overstimulation.

"Was that too much for you, babe?" 

He's the type to initiate a passionate makeout session while you're in the midst of your fucking session, savouring the intoxicating taste of alcohol and your essence on your lips.

And here's a surprise — he'll want to experiment with your vibrator, using it to enhance his own pleasure, fucking your tight asshole with the toy while his fat dick is buried deep in your needy cunt.

Bucky's moans will reach a level of eroticism that feels like the very essence of desire. He’s going to sound like a fucking porn star.

He'll cup and squeeze your breasts like there is no tomorrow.

Get ready for ultra hard spanking, especially involving his bionic hand.

He'll deliver the most intense spanks while fucking your tight cunny from behind. Bucky isn’t typically into things that could cause you pain, but now he's gripping your hair like he's taming a wild stallion.

If you happen to be on top, of him, riding his dick, Bucky'll take control by gripping your hips firmly, rendering you immobile while he thrusts up into you with such force that you'll need to cup a headboard to prevent yourself from falling off; the sole sound in the room will be his ball sack slapping against the plush of your ass.

Bucky’s a fucking tease and he would rub his hardened shaft against your wet clit and folds first before sliding it on without a single warning. “Yeah, fuck, you’re so tight for me.”

“Baaaby, ‘m gonna cum inside of you, ok?”

The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm ambiance over the restaurant as Bucky and you sat across from each other at a cosy corner table. The low hum of chatter and clinking cutlery surrounded you, creating a perfect backdrop for the evening ahead.

You had chosen a dress that you felt confident and beautiful in, its neckline gracefully emphasising your décolletage. The deep, rich colour of the dress seemed to catch the candlelight just right, enhancing the allure of the moment.

As the two of you delved into conversation, you couldn't help but notice Bucky's lingering gaze, his eyes locked onto you. His usual demeanour was softened by a faint, appreciative smile, and his blue eyes held a certain warmth that spoke volumes. It was as if the rest of the world had faded into the background, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the magnetic pull of your connection.

_________________________________

Bucky firmly pressed your face against the restroom door of the restaurant, his hand gripping your neck, and his bionic elbow securing you in place. His other hand boldly explored your ass, while his lips trailed against your cheek. “So fucking sexy, aren’t you, doll?”

You trembled at his touch, a dampness growing bigger between your thighs.

Hiking your dress up slightly, Barnes cupped his hand over your clothed core, groping it, smirking widely as he felt how wet you were. Bucky purred, releasing his firm hold on you and withdrawing his hand from your pussy. With a deft move, he spun you around to face him. His hungry lips devoured yours in an intense, passionate kiss. As the heat between you intensified, your hands urgently worked to remove each other's clothing. Bucky's hand slid up, hiking the dress to your tummy while his bionic arm worked on the fly of his jeans.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, Bucky locked eyes with you, searching for any hint of hesitation and finding none.

His hand firmly gripped the shaft of his hard dick that was freed, aligning it with your eager entrance, all the while maintaining intense eye contact with you. He entered you at a tantalisingly slow pace, and both of you couldn't help but moan in unison. Your fingers dug into Bucky's back as you clung to him.

Barnes' hands held your sides, and he began a rhythmic thrusting motion, pulling out and pushing in, all while burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

Both of you panted heavily, your nails leaving their mark on his skin, which only intensified his groans as he quickened his pace. "Fuck." 

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he held you mid-air, allowing for even deeper thrusts, his hips meeting yours with a passionate intensity.

Intense waves of pleasure coursed through your bodies, leaving you both in a state of ecstasy.

Your silky walls tightened around him, causing Bucky's cock to throb with pleasure. His hold on your sides grew even firmer; you could be sure he'd leave bruises there.

"You feel so amazing around my cock," Bucky moaned, his Romanian accent becoming deeper as he peppered the crook of your neck with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. One of his hands wandered from your side, trailing up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and gripping firmly.

"Bucky," you moaned in response as he continued his rhythmic thrusting, and they grew faster and more primal.

The room echoed with moans, groans, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a cacophony of pleasure. Both of you were lost in pure bliss, completely unconcerned about the possibility of anyone overhearing or getting into the restroom to catch you both red-handed.

As a familiar sensation welled up in the pit of your stomach, you could sense Bucky approaching his climax. His thrusts grew sloppier, his bionic hand that had been on your left sides now moving down to where you were intimately connected. The pad of his metal thumb found your clit, and he began rubbing it in rough circles, causing your toes to curl in your shoes as your orgasm surged through you.

Barnes wasn't far behind, delivering one final powerful thrust before his cock convulsed inside you. 

Your walls clenched tightly around him, and both of you reached the peak of pleasure simultaneously, filling the restroom with loud, unrestrained moans.

As he softened inside you, Bucky murmured a quiet, "I fucking love ya, babe."

Bucky leaned in close, his voice a hushed whisper, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "There's something about that electrifying thrill in my spine and tummy when I think about the possibility of getting caught fucking your cunt senseless." Bucky added with a cocky grin, "I'm pretty sure everyone in the dining room heard us."

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - chapter 6.

dark aemond x maid ofc minor aemond x floris baratheon work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

summary: a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

word count: 3.7k

girl.... it took a bit to get here but i hope its worth it - please let me know what you think

warnings: smut (details below cut), power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

oh to be in love - kate bush • mary on a cross - ghost

chapter specific warnings: violence, blood, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, virginity loss, biting

The next few weeks were good ones for Rosemary– the best ones since her mother passed. She fell into a quick companionship with Helaena, accepting her oddities as fun quirks, rather than bits of madness that everyone else seemed to discount them as.

Helaena was smarter than people gave her credit for. She was witty with a great sense of humor, often poking fun at courtiers and other denizens of the castle. She had a lot of inside knowledge on the gossip and going-ons of the Keep, as people weren't afraid to speak openly while she was in earshot, citing her as daft and not paying attention.

Rosemary and Helaena sat shoulder to shoulder on the settee near the window. It was open, a crisp breeze tousling their hair. 

The princess had promoted Rosemary to her handmaiden, thus upgrading her wardrobe significantly. They matched now, as Rosemary wore light blue dresses, her hair down in a braid. Helaena usually leaned towards cooler colors, like flushed blues and light purples. 

“I've heard that Floris is pitching a fit over the flowers chosen for the wedding,” Helaena chattered, pricking a needle into the fabric stretched over an embroidery hoop-- she was working on a depiction of a blue carpenter bee, “Mother told me she cried when the florist brought in white tulips instead of yellow.”

Rosemary snorted a small giggle, her hands tangled in Helaena's hair, defting the tresses into intricate braids, “And how has your brother taken all of this?”

Helaena was privy to Aemond and Rosemary's 'situation', whatever it may be– it was ill-defined at the moment. The corners of her eyes crinkled into a grin, “He is running Vhagar ragged with how much he flies her. Mother said that when Floris began to weep, he slipped out of the hall and was gone for four hours.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” the maid hummed. 

The weeks with Helaena had also proven fruitful for Aemond and Rosemary’s interactions– they were still few and far between, with Aemond expressing more restraint than he had before, but he visited Helaena’s chambers more often, citing brotherly love as his reasoning for his frequent social calls.

He entered that day as usual, his arms behind his back. His eye zeroed in on Rosemary, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. She wasn’t wearing her formless maid’s dresses any longer, as Helaena had her tailored for a few higher end pieces for her. They hugged her curves in the right places with a sweeping décolletage, exposing just the hinting swell of her chest, the light blue complimenting her complexion.

He had been visiting more lately, but the past few days had been taken up with frivolous wedding planning, and half a dozen flights on Vhagar. 

“Brother, you’re staring.” Helaena murmured.

He became all too aware of his surroundings, his mouth slightly dry and his clothes all too tight. It took him a moment to regain his stoic self, “I am merely trying to see what you’re embroidering, dear sister,” he walked forward, nodding his head to Rosemary, “My lady.” he mustered a greeting.

“Your grace,” she hummed in response, tying off Helaena’s braids with a small leather cord, “Would you like for me to braid yours as well?” she said it ever so innocently, but she was goading him. They were in each other’s proximity more often than not lately, with Rosemary often watching him spar in the courtyard from the spectator’s eaves They had developed a back and forth banter— he tested her limits with his witty remarks, and she teased him endlessly until she was all but sure that he would need to relieve himself later. It was a fun game, their little verbal spars, but Rosemary wondered when it would become reality. A man could only be teased so long. 

Aemond cleared his throat, “That won’t be necessary,” he glanced at her for a moment, his pupil blown wide. She knew she had him, hook, line and sinker. 

“Rosemary, weren’t you going to go to the market today?” Helaena redirected the conversation, “I know you had a few things to pick up.” 

The maid perked up, “Oh, yes— hm, I should get started now so mayhaps I’ll make it home before dark,” she squeezed Helaena’s shoulder affectionately, the princess leaning into her touch, “I will see you this evening, my lady,” she got up, smoothing out her dress, curtsying before Aemond, “My prince.” 

“Hm.” he grunted, letting her walk past him. 

She made a quick stop to her room, donning a cape jacket, her hands tying a ribboned, wide-brimmed sun hat to her head. Looping a bag around her shoulder, she set out to the corridors. 

Rosemary walked with purpose, reciting her list, “Lavender oil, honey cakes, lilac and blue thread, rock salt, goat’s milk…” she had her head down, navigating the halls absentmindedly. She brushed shoulders with someone, caught off guard by an anguished gasp. 

Stopping, she looked to see who she bumped, “My apologies,” Rosemary murmured, seeing that it was… Floris Baratheon. She recognized her from passing through Maegor’s Holdfast going to and from Helaena’s chambers, “My lady.” 

Floris scoffed, “Yes, well, watch where you are going,” she looked Rosemary up and down, a flicker of something akin to recognition passing through her eye, “Ah, you’re the princess’ handmaiden, are you not?” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“I see,” she clicked her tongue, seemingly mulling over something in her head, “Where are you heading in such a hurry, then?”

“I have to pick up a few things from the markets, my lady— I wish to get back before it gets dark.” 

Floris blinked slowly, her hands coming together, “Ah. The markets,” she repeated, “Enjoy your errands.” 

Rosemary curtsied hurriedly, walking away. She had already wasted enough time dawdling. 

The trip down to the market square was fairly uneventful— she managed to get lost once or thrice, still unfamiliar with the layout of the city; she had only visited through it once before arriving at the Keep. 

She haggled with her fair share of merchants and most definitely overpaid for most things. It was a wonder that she managed to somehow haggle up the price. 

The last thing she retrieved was the goat’s milk— it wasn’t to be drinken, but to be added to her and Helaena’s baths. Rosemary had fond memories of her mother drawing her a hot bath and pouring flower oils and goat or sheep’s milk into it, along with the chipped pieces of rock salt. It left her feeling soft and fresh and she wished to experience it once again. 

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon. Helaena warned Rosemary to not be in King’s Landing at night and to always come back before the sun set. 

Rosemary gnawed at her bottom lip as she tried to retrace her steps. She could see the Red Keep up on the hill, but when she tried to navigate there, she ended up being cut off by dead ends, empty alleys, and paths looming with unsavory characters. 

She felt the bubble of panic rising in her chest, her thumb nail sinking into the soft of her palm. Her lip began to bleed from her incessant biting upon it in her anxiety driven state. 

Turning down another alley, she was met with a dead end again. Tears pricked at her eyes, feeling frustrated and helpless— how idiotic could she be to get lost? She could see the Keep but couldn’t reach it. 

Moving to retreat from the alley, she saw a hooded figure at the end of it, awaiting her. Her heart instantly jumped into her stomach and she froze. The dying light of the sun glinted off of something in its hand— a weapon. 

The tears came in full force now as she dropped her bag, backing up further against the wall. The figure descended upon her, brandishing a knife. It was a man, stocky and older. His breath smelled of decay and rot— he was hissing at her, like some kind of animal. 

Rosemary put her arms up to shield against the first swing, she had seen Aemond do something similar in his training sessions with Ser Criston– of course, he was a seasoned swordsman and usually swathed off an attack with a weapon, so this method was nowhere near as effective as he made it look— it ripped through the fabric of her dress, slicing against her arms. She whimpered in pain but shoved forward against him, knocking him off his balance. He kept up his garbled hissing, as if he was trying to say something. 

“Take my bag— the money is in there, just l-leave me be!” Rosemary cried, kicking the bag towards him. 

The man couldn’t look less interested as he regained his footing, coming in again for the second time. This attempt was fruitful as he knocked Rosemary to the ground— he was on top of her, slicing wildly, his mouth agape. He had no tongue. She tried to keep her arms up to stop him from hitting anything vital, the blade cutting through her skin like ribbons. She cried in pain, kicking and screaming, her blood trickling down onto her face, her dress.

Her life flashed before her eyes— her mother, Jeyne, Helaena, the children— Aemond. 

Suddenly, the man was dead weight against her and the dangerous edge of a sword poked through the front of his skull, mere inches from Rosemary’s face. 

It all felt like a haze, a blur. Was she already dead? She felt so cold, the rivulets of blood flowing across her skin feeling like shards of ice. Her vision closed and blackened around her. 

The weight of the man was kicked off of her and then she was scooped up— she was no longer cold, but warm. She was warm, like in a goat’s milk and lavender oil bath, the steamy water enveloping her like a second skin. She had to be dead, surely. 

“Rosemary,” a voice, familiar, murmured, “Stay awake. Fucking hell, I shouldn’t of let you go alone.” 

She glanced up, her vision still muddied and red— her own blood had dripped into her eyes, stinging. But she realized who was holding her, the flash of a single violet eye burning through her. Aemond.

“Ae… mond,” she whispered. 

“Don’t speak,” he grunted, “Just… stay awake, okay?” 

She didn’t know how long it was until the air around her turned from the flowing outdoor air, to a dank and almost tepid air. It was dark now, flashes of torches dancing in her eyes. 

Then she was set down— on something soft. It smelled like sandalwood and smoke. A bed. Aemond’s bed. 

He sat next to her, bandaging her arms, “You did good putting your arms up,” he said, wrapping the soft, spongy cloth material taut around the worst of her wounds, “Where did you learn that?”

Rosemary blinked, “… been watching you spar… recently,” she responded softly, “I might’ve… picked up a thing or two.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. It made her chest feel aflutter. “Hm,” he mused, “I never saw you there but once.”

“I was hiding… didn’t wish to distract you.” 

Aemond snorted then, rolling his eye, “Chin up,” his hand softly lifted up her head as he wiped a damp, lukewarm cloth over her face, cleansing the blood from her skin. 

“How did you know?”

He made a small noise of discontentment, “You were bound to find yourself in trouble. I saw you overpay for all of your items today, far above market price,” he looked away for a moment, “I can’t say I expected this to happen. But it… was good I was there, I suppose.” the cloth eased over her eyes, helping her sight come back into focus. 

She blinked profusely a few times, tears gathering at her waterline– not just from the irritation, but emotion. “... I don’t know what to say…”

Aemond put the cloth aside, “Usually, this is where one says ‘thank you’,” he chided, citing her taunt at him from a few weeks earlier, “How is the pain?”

Twisting her arms, she sucked in a breath of pain, “... hurts.” 

“It will for a while and will likely scar. But, better a scar than your life,” he hummed, his hand flexing and relaxing absentmindedly, “I’ll bring you a salve for them so they won’t mar your skin as terribly.” his hand reached for hers, turning her palm up. He was gentle, his skin warm.

“... thank you,” she murmured, closing his hand between both of hers, wincing at bit at the movement. “I don’t understand… he didn’t want my money or items– he was actively trying to kill me. To just kill me.”

Aemond looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, his mouth wrought into a thin line, “King’s Landing is a dangerous place– the Red Keep even more so. I… will try to figure out what it was– mayhaps a purposeful attack.”

“Purposeful? Why would anyone want to kill me?” 

“You are the princess’ handmaiden– you have eyes and ears into a lot of affairs in the Keep and perhaps you overheard something you shouldn’t have,” he let go of her hands for a moment, but not before rasping his thumb over her knuckles. He then began to pace. “Have you heard anything odd lately? Some conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to?”

Rosemary only now just saw how distraught Aemond looked– his hair was down completely, the leather tie used to pull it back to the nape of his neck gone, likely broken off. His hands were stained with blood, her blood, and the blood of her would-be killer. He looked a bit flushed, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his footfalls heavy and filled with emotion– not like his usual silent, detached movements. 

“Aemond,” she murmured. He didn’t stop his pacing, muttering to himself, “Aemond. Aemond!” she raised her voice slightly, causing his head to snap towards her. “Please– we can worry about it all later, just… come here.”

He looked perplexed by her tone and loudness, but walked over anyway.

 In turn, she reached over and took an extra dampened cloth, holding out her hand, “Let me help.” she asked.

He sat down next to her on the bed, the mattress dipping under him. He bobbed his knee incessantly as Rosemary took his hands and washed them of the grime and blood. His jaw was clenched, his muscles taut as if he wanted to spring into action or mayhaps run out of the room.

“Relax,” she grumbled, “I should be the one nervous, not you.”

“I am nervous– you… you were almost killed. I was almost too late, Rosemary,” he spoke, his voice breaking from its usual even tone into something soft and more raw, “What the fuck would we have done if you were… slaughtered by some ingrate? Helaena and the children– they would be heartbroken,” he took in a sharp breath, “... I would be… devastated as well.”

Rosemary stowed away the cloth, her hands not once leaving his. Slowly and cautiously, she intertwined their fingers. It was an intimate gesture, something soft and soothing. She could feel her heart catch in her throat, her ears burning. “Well, you weren’t too late, were you?” she whispered, her voice almost silent. She glanced up at him, those big brown eyes of hers piercing a hole right through him, right into his soul. 

Untangling one hand from hers, his hand came beneath her chin, tilting it upward. “I might’ve burned this whole fucking city down if I was,” he murmured, leaning forward. They were so close, their lips ghosting over one another.

She felt the heat rise in her stomach, feelings jittering around against her ribcage like some of Helaena’s butterflies. Her eyes flicked to his lips, then back to his eye– she inhaled as she leaned in– and in turn, he did as well.

Their lips met– it was soft but intense all at once, the butterflies in her chest breaking free in a cacophony of emotion. It was chaste at first, their lips melding together like two puzzle pieces– before her lips parted slightly and she tilted forward more, her free hand coming up to his chest, but wavering. “C-can I touch you?” she asked, her words pressed against his mouth.

“Please– please touch me,” he practically pleaded, “I’ve waited so long.” 

Her hand slid up his chest slowly, her brow knitting in discomfort as her wounds pressed against the bandages. 

He took note of this, placing her hands on his hips and a likely more comfortable position for her. 

She hummed contentedly as she leaned farther into him, her lips parting once more to accommodate his tongue slipping into her mouth. She needed more of him, pressing as close as she could. She wanted to crawl inside of his ribcage and live there. It was something of comfort.

“Lay down,” he said, breaking their intimate closeness for just a moment, earning a disappointed whimper from her. “I need to taste you.”

Rosemary swallowed heavily, nodding slowly. “I’ve– I’ve never… done this before,” she breathed, “I’m still a maiden.” she scooted back to lay on the soft pillows, looking down. Her dress was a torn mess.

“All the reason to go slow, little lamb,” he responded in turn, edging up the skirt of her dress, “Tell me to stop if you need to.”

Biting her lip, she nodded. The feather light touch of his hand on her leg made her shiver, a coil of warm settling in her core. 

His hands, calloused and rough as they were, felt like smooth silk as they glided up her leg, bunching up her dress at her stomach. His fingers traced the stretch marks on her hips and thighs as if to commit them to memory. Aemond’s fingers hooked under her undergarments and slid them off– a wet strip of arousal prominently painted down the center of them. Grinning, he stowed them away in his pocket, “Hmm,” he hummed, using both hands to part her legs as if it were some great feat, like mounting a dragon or swinging a sword for the first time. “Beautiful.”

Rosemary felt her face go red as she looked down at him, his head between her legs. “Please.” she murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

She didn’t need to beg, not this time at least– he fulfilled her wish, licking a strip from the bottom of her parted folds up to her aching pearl, causing her to whimper. He was slow at first, eeking out every little sound he could out of her before beginning to feast, his tongue ringing circles around her sensitive bud, his hands gripping her thighs like he was a man staved, and she was his last meal before death.

Rosemary clutched the sheets, wanting to snap her legs close, but his strong grip kept them open– thank the Gods for that– the warmed coil inside of her slowly eking into a smolder. ‘A-Aemond, ah–” her first orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of lightning, her toes curling. Her legs wrapped around him as she clenched around nothing, whimpering his name like it was a prayer.

“That’s it,” he purred, “Bleating like a lamb for me– so soft, like I knew you’d be.”

She panted heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her death grip on his head weakened slightly, allowing him to slip from between her legs for just a moment. 

“Let's get this dress off, hm? I want to see all of you.”

“If you undress, too– I won’t be the only one naked,” she grumbled.

He happily obliged, stripping his doublet and trousers and kicking them away, all too eager to get her out of her dress. His fingers deftly undid the buttons, slipping it off of her. A hand palmed one of her heavy breasts, rubbing a nipple between his fore and middle finger. 

“Eyepatch,” she mewled between tiny moans, “Take it off.”

He was a bit more hesitant here– his thumb hooking under the strap. Pausing for a moment, he looked to Rosemary once more. 

She was disheveled, her face flushed red, her hair coming out of her braid and flowing behind her in pale blonde tresses. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted ever so slightly. She wanted him, she wanted all of him– it was evident.

Foregoing any more doubt, he discarded the eyepatch, revealing his sapphire implant. 

Her half lidded eyes grew into large saucers, her breath hitching in her throat. Rosemary didn’t say anything else, giving a hum of contentment before pulling him back onto the bed for another kiss. 

“Beautiful,” she cooed between kisses.

It was enough to make Aemond blush– hiding his bashfulness by slipping his tongue back into her mouth, palming his cock in his fist. He swiped the head against her folds, gathering the slick and slowly sliding it in. 

“Gods above,” he grit his teeth, “Fucking tight.” his lips pressed against her neck, he buried himself to the hilt in her, waiting for her approval.

“F-full,” she whimpered, needing a moment to adjust to his size and the overall new sensation, before she nodded for him to proceed.

He moved slowly again, starting at a measured, deliberate pace, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. 

Soon enough, she relaxed into his rocking motions, beginning to enjoy it. His pace increased as he left red marks on her neck, sucking and bruising the delicate skin there. He wanted to be gentle– but he was still a dragon, and dragons were wholly possessive. 

The room was filled with the sounds of her soft whimpering moans and his grunts– the symphony of skin slapping against skin. 

Aemond clenched, feeling the tell-tale sensation that he was close, “F-fuck,” he groaned against her skin, teeth biting into her now, “My lamb– my pretty lamb– you should be my fucking wife. You’re mine, mine, m– fuck–” he stilled his movements as he spilled inside of her, his fingers gripping her hips like soft putty. 

She clenched around him, feeling the warmth of his exertions spread through her. Sweat beaded at her forehead and chest as her hummingbird heart slowed down finally. 

He didn’t pull out yet– rather, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest, laying on his back now.

“Stay with me tonight– please. I wish to wake up next to you, if only this once.” he murmured, holding her close against his chest in his all encompassing hold.

“Of course, my dragon.”

taglist: @watercolorskyy @queen--kenobi @heartb8k2 @violetiss3lfish @toodlesxcuddles

[aquagirl1978]

U N D E R T H E W A V E S

william rex x reader | day 11 - mirror sex | tags: nsfw; minors - dni; piv; sex standing up; mirror sex; marking/biting

His mouth was hungry, his hands greedier as you stumbled into his bedroom, the soft click of a lock barely audible. Your mouth matched his hunger, tongues tangling and twisting to taste the other.

Will had surprised you earlier with an impromptu date earlier. He had bought you a new red dress that he insisted you wear before He whisked you away to an evening out at the theater. It had started to rain on your way back to the castle. Normally, Will would linger in the gardens whenever it rained, but this time he was unusually eager to head back to his room. 

He took you by the hand and spun you around, just the two of you in his room sharing a private dance. Laughter bubbled from your lips – you were so happy just to be with Will that you thought your heart might burst into a million pieces if you felt any happier. You didn't need anyone else, you didn't want anyone else. Just Will, only Will. 

Enamored by his adoring gaze and dizzy from dancing, you did not notice the tall cheval mirror until you were standing right in front of it.

“Is that new?” you asked.

“I got it for you, so you can see how you look when you're getting ready every day.” Reflected in the mirror was too mischievous a smile on Will’s face to have simply spoiled you with yet another gift. You might not be able to read his mind yet, but you knew that wasn't the full answer.

He unbuttoned his shirt and enveloped you in his arms from behind; the heady scent of roses was intoxicating as you breathed it in, savoring the sweet floral smell that was Will.  

“I really got it for us.” He traced the slope of your shoulder with his long fingers, then along your collarbone. The scratching of his blood-red nails was enough to send shockwaves throughout your entire body. 

When he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric of your décolletage, your mind went blank.

“I want you to look at your face and watch your expressions. See what I see when I touch you. Do you see the adorable face you make when I touch you…” He circled your nipple with thumb, teasing your sensitive skin. “...here?”

Letting out a soft, sweet sigh, your body felt so hot it was like you were on fire. 

He ran his palms down your sides; your skin sensitive, your body trembled with excitement of what was to come. Lifting the hem of your red dress, its bodice now gathered around your middle, he exposed your backside; the air cool on your skin, your breath hitched as shivers shot down your spine.  

His thumbs ghosted your soft skin as his fingers dug firmly into your hips and spread your thighs. He teased your slit with the tip of his cock, sending a delicious tingle through your body.

His mouth fastened to the curve of your neck. Gentle at first, his kisses became more bite than kiss as his teeth grazed your skin, teasing you with quick little nips. He hummed, pleased, his breath warm against your laved skin. Tangling your hands in his soft and silky strands, you guided his mouth further down your chest. Your eyelids drifted closed as your lips parted, but no sounds escaped.

“Open your eyes, my darling robin.” 

You were slow to open your eyes, nervous to see what you would find reflected in the mirror. You gasped at the image before you; his hand was on your chin, tilting your face towards the reflection, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you tightly against his body. 

Moonlight poured into the room, casting a soft glow on your exposed skin. Love bruised lips parted, pink and slightly swollen. A chain of love bites decorated your collarbone. Your eyes twinkled, shining brighter than the stars above. 

“Do you see how pretty you are?”

Moaning slightly as your body rubbed against his, the skirt of your red dress hiked around your waist, his words whispered softly in your ear. 

“My robin is so beautiful, filled with my cock.” 

*****

“Will...”  

You moaned your lover’s name as he fucked you from behind; his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples.  

His hot breath was like a fire on your skin as he left biting kisses on the nape of your neck. Reaching back, your hand found his thigh, your nails digging into his supple skin, leaving marks of your own. 

Despite this gift’s purpose, you found yourself admiring your beautiful boyfriend, enthralled by the pleased expressions he made, the sweet sounds he made like music to your ears.

Pleasure uncoiled in your core, building and building in waves that were so close to crashing.  Will closed his eyes as his body tensed. His hands released your breasts, his fingertips lingering on the swell of your chest.

And then the waves consumed you, and everything turned black. 

Tagging: @natimiles @valkyyriia @queengiuliettafirstlady @william-rex

@ike-garden2024 @lucyw260

[merylstreepsworld]

The Necklace

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Reader

Summary: You are infatuated with Miranda's necklace... and for good reason

Word Count: 462

In the intimate moments you shared with Miranda Priestly, her sense of style was as alluring as her commanding presence. She often wore low V-necklines that left little to the imagination, paired with exquisite, low-hanging necklaces that framed her décolletage. It was a combination that drew your eyes like a moth to a flame, and you couldn't resist the temptation to touch and play with the necklace that nestled between her breasts.

One evening, as you both lounged in her luxurious townhouse. Miranda was engrossed in a flurry of emails on her tablet, seemingly managing the entire fashion world from the comfort of her luxurious sofa. Her choice of attire was particularly captivating. Her V-neckline plunged gracefully, showcasing her elegant collarbones and a tantalizing hint of cleavage. The delicate necklace, adorned with a shimmering pendant, hung enticingly between her breasts.

You watched as she effortlessly juggled her responsibilities, her fingers dancing across the touchscreen with precision. The soft glow from the tablet cast an ethereal light on her features, accentuating her magnetic presence.

Unable to resist, you reached out and gently brushed your fingertips against the necklace, letting the cool metal caress your skin. Miranda's gaze never left the tablet, but her lips curled into a knowing smile, a subtle acknowledgment of your actions.

"Darling," she purred in her sultry tone, "Do you have an obsession with my necklace, or is it the territory it resides in that intrigues you so?"

Your cheeks flushed as her teasing words washed over you, and you replied with a playful smirk, "Perhaps it's both, Miranda. Your choice of jewelry is impeccable, but I can't deny the allure of what's beneath it." Miranda's laughter, like a fine wine, filled the room. Her fingers finally pausing on the tablet, she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I find your fascination quite amusing, my dear. But you know, if you just wanted to touch near my breasts, you could simply ask." Your heart raced at her suggestion, and your fingers danced along the necklace once more, unable to resist the temptation. "Maybe I enjoy the element of surprise," you replied with a sly grin.

Miranda's eyes sparkled with desire as she captured your lips in a passionate kiss, her dominance and sensuality igniting a fire within you. The necklace between her breasts became a symbol of your shared desire and the playful teasing that only deepened your connection.

In those intimate moments, Miranda's style and your playful touches became a tantalizing dance, a testament to the passion and allure that bound you together. It was a love story where desire and teasing were woven into the very fabric of your relationship, creating an unbreakable bond between you and the formidable Miranda Priestly.

[thecursedprince]

Disney Designer Collection Midnight Masquerade Series: Queen of Hearts Limited Edition Doll - Alice in Wonderland

Wonderland's Queen of Hearts is sure to to be a head-turner with this Disney Designer Collection Midnight Masquerade Doll. Her Royal Majesty is resplendent in a metallic accented gown with a rose print underskirt topped by layers of red and black tulle, gemstone studs and red satin rosettes. Accessories include a stand-up collar, velvet stole, plus golden crown and matching mask that will let you judge this keepsake without a jury ruling.Magic in the details

Fashionably late, fiercely on point! The Disney Heroes and Villains are here to make an impression. Not even a lost invitation from a royal courier can keep them from attending the show-stopping Midnight Masquerade. They've finally arrived, and they are owning this magical moment. The blend of mystery and moonlight comes to life in this stunningly sophisticated collection. Designed by Disney artists, these dolls are adorned with intricately crafted masks, featuring iconic motifs that capture the innocence of our heroines, along with the dark deeds of our villains. This is an event for fans and collectors alike you won't want to miss. Let the drama begin!

Limited Edition of 3,450

Includes Certificate of Authenticity

Disney Designer Collection Midnight Masquerade Series; Fashionably Late

Queen of Hearts Collector Doll

Highly detailed

Poseable

Metallic satin and velvet bodice

Plunging v-neckline with velvet heart décolletage

Metallic puffed sleeves with satin ribbons

Pleated red satin stand-up collar with faux leather doily second layer

Rose print satin underskirt with metallic paint splatter accents

Layered red and black tulle

Satin rosettes and gemstone studs

Velvet stole with metallic embroidered hearts and satin lining, plus golden tassels

Golden crown with red faceted gem

Golden mask with rose trims

Moulded shoes

Finely styled hair

Rooted eyelashes

Display stand included

Comes in elegant window display packaging with ribbon ties and carry handle

Inspired by Walt Disney's Alice in Wonderland (1951)

Part of the Disney Designer Collection Midnight Masquerade Series; Fashionably Late

The bare necessities

Ages 6+

Polyvinyl chloride (PVC) / acrylonitrile butadiene styrene (ABS plastic) / polypropylene (PP) / polyester / metal

Doll approx. 27.9cm H (31.8cm H incl. crown and collar)

Box approx. 42.5cm H x 27.3cm W x 14.6cm D

Imported

Item No. 416147926798

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part Twenty - Six

Summary: Reader and Enjolras, allowing their moods lead them.

Notes/Warning: 18+ only. Consensual P in V intercourse, Dated views of intercourse

Thank you for reading! ❤️s & reblogs are always welcome. Feedback is also very…very welcome!

Translations: Then I am yours, heart and body. - Alors je suis à toi, corps et cœur. My love - Mon amour, Beautiful- Beau, My beauty - Mon Beaute.

He chuckled, “So tell me what has made my wife so bubbly?”

Your eyes twinkled. “The ladies gave me some wine.” You leaned in close. “Its stronger then whatever we drank at the tavern.”

“So are you feeling nice and warm?”

You nodded, a giggle came from you.

He shook his head smiling. “Those women befuddled my dear wife.”

“Enjolras?” You hold onto your bravery. You would finally tell him.

“Yes, love.”

“There is something I have been wanting to tell you.” You say in a lower tone.

He rested his forehead against yours. “Oh? This sounds like it will be very interesting.” He smiled and pulled back.

“You remind me of all those dashing rogues I used to read about.”

He sat a little straighter getting a hold of warm fuzziness the ale he had drank earlier did to him. He rested his hands on your hips.

He wiggled his brows. “Oh? Do I now.”

“Yes, you are dashing like them and are very close to how they came out of a writer’s pen.” You placed a hand over your heart.

He truly loved and enjoyed this sweet your nature.

“I am completely besotted.”

His lips were curled in an easy smirk but it easily shifted to a soft smile. Around you smiles felt natural were not a tool to gain something he wanted or needed.

“Are you sure this is not the wine those ladies gave you?”

You shook your head. “No. Ever since I stumbled into the warehouse and you retrieved my fallen scarf.”

He chuckled. “That feels so long ago now.”

You nod.

Reaching up he cupped your cheek. “You were a sweet distraction that night.” His thumb caressed your cheek.”

As you leaned into his hand and sighed, his heart picked up speed. He drew close to you, meet your eyes he bit his bottom lip before he kissed you.

Your lips were so and hesitant at first; easily it allowed him to easily deepen it. As you pressed against him answering his kiss his passion grew.

“I need you mon ange.”

“Alors je suis à toi, corps et cœur.” You breathed

Your words made his stomach tighten in his desire for you. Moving, he lifted you and so you were now the one sitting on the bed. He standing above you he bent down to kiss you. Your lips were hungry as they touched.

“Shuffle back a little, love and lift your skirt.” He managed to breathlessly say.

You nodded, easily you lifted your skirt and soon your petticoat. Watching you, he trembled as his excitement pressed hard against his trousers.

Kneeling on the bed, he took a breath and reaching up and pulled you free of your undergarment. He tucked them into one of his pockets.

“My beautiful girl.” He murmured catching your eye. When he did he saw the pink darken in your cheeks.

Easing one of legs around his hip he gently brushed your soft entrance. The soft moan that poured from your lips, shook him to his core. He easily then entered you. Loving how he snuggly felt using his unscarred hand he braced himself on the bed beside you.

“Mon amour.” He moaned aloud.

He smiled as he discovered that you had loosened laces near your décolletage.

“Beau.” He pressed his lips against yours. “Mon beaute.”

He began to easily move within you. As he did he relished the feel of your fingers in his curls. You moans fueled him. You were so soft, so lovely. You were his sweet little trésor.

You trembled under him. “Amour, my pleasure is about to wash over me.”

“Good. Mine will not be long after you.”

His lips met yours once more and he could hear as your muffled cry, his his mouth as you shared a sweet kiss. Your sweet tightening pulled on him and the knots that had been tightening inside of him snapped and he barely could muffle himself as his own pleasure washed over him. He gripped the blankets tightly as he felt himself fill you with his essence.

******

In your chemise, you sighed and laud your head on his chest. You smiled as you felt his lips press against the top of your head.

“Love, I couldn’t wait, nor stall my pleasure for you. Laying as we normally do when we become one, would have been too long for me.” He whispered against his your ruffled strands.

“It was exciting and different. I had no idea we could move like that but it felt so good.”

You buried your face into his chest. “Oh, the wine has continued to make my ability to speak of all things.

You felt as he squeezed your shoulder. “It is alright my love. The idea came to me, that you are becoming an inspiration in many parts in my life. This make our life in England, quite an adventure.”

“Truly?” You asked softly.

You glanced at him in shadowy cabin towards him.

“Yes. And I enjoy your thoughts, never stifle them.”

“I will have to remember that.”

“Yes. After all that we have already gone through, I do not want to change how we are.”

“Thank you.” You yawned softly.

A soft chuckle came from him. “I do say it is a good idea we shared about retiring early. I believe our passions has brought a cloak of slumber that wishes to be wrapped around you and I.”

You were barely awake, hearing his soothing voice just lulled you more into the world of dreams that were eager to visit. Keeping that solitary candle burning, shadows were cast in all directions and the flame flickered in draft that blew around as the boat continued to cut through the dark, ocean.

******

How much later, you were not certain. As you rose onto your elbow in dim cabin. You were grateful Enjolras had lit a candle. He had burned to half of its stature. You eyed his sleeping form, his features were smooth and soft. Underneath was a warrior that had fought and protected you.

Inhaling you saw his scared hand. You let your finger tips just graze what remained of the wound. For a moment, you were haunted by the night you and him fled into the night. The acrid smell of the guns, how the wood door burst open as the soldiers stormed through.

“Love? Are you alright?”

You stilled not realizing you had been trembling. That night shook you. His voice raspy as sleep still held onto part of him brought a calmness to you.

You glanced down at him and nodded. He took the past that had lingered around you.

“Yes.”

“Night terror?”

“Not necessarily.”

He rubbed an eye. “Your father?”

“Not tonight. I was remembering that night.”

“Come lay back down. It will be dawn soon. Let me hold you.”

“Yes.”

You nestled close with a sigh. His hand gently caressed your arm. You felt as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I am so grateful that we made it, yet it still haunts me.” You finally spoke glimpsing up at him.

“Me as well. While I was playing cards, memories of times with Courfeyrac and Grantaire came to mind.”

His arm around you tightened.

“Once we reach land, I will send messages.”

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove @poisonedeuphoria

[lamaisongaga]

LADY GAGA AS NATALI'S MAID OF HONOR IN TOPO STUDIO NY & VERSACE

Lady Gaga graced her sister Natali Germanotta and Alex Dolan’s wedding as a maiden of honor at the Viewpoint hotel in York, Maine a couple days ago!

Before we get to the actual event, let's take a look at the LBD Gaga chose for the wedding rehearsal first.

The sculptural black crêpe dress with padded shoulders, V-neckline, nipped-in waist and mini hem ($1,645) hails from Versace's 60s-inspired Spring/Summer 2024 runway.

Shop:

Versace Mini Dress ($1,645.00)

For the ceremony, Gaga turning heads and warming hearts in a stunning dress crafted by the bride herself under her label, Topo Studio NY. She embodied a vision of romantic sophistication, adorned in a Grecian peach-colored pleated chiffon dress that epitomized both grace and modernity.

The gown, a testament to Natali’s design prowess, featured a draped V-neckline that beautifully framed Gaga's décolletage, adding an element of timeless allure. The buttoned front added a touch of classic refinement, while the asymmetrical scalloped layered hem infused a contemporary twist, flowing with ethereal elegance and enhancing Gaga's every step.

Gaga’s accessories were a perfect blend of whimsical and elegant. She adorned her hair with real flowers, adding a touch of natural beauty and romance to her look. In a creative twist, she also wore a flower as an earring, enhancing the unique, ethereal vibe of her ensemble.

Completing her sophisticated appearance, she donned custom Garo Sparo nude mesh opera-length gloves. These exquisite gloves added a layer of timeless elegance, perfectly complementing her dress and highlighting her distinctive style.

As a lover of a good platform shoe, my eye happily went to this pair of Giuseppe Zanotti heels. She opted to complete her maid of honor look with his Yana white patent leather platform pumps with ankle straps ($537).

Shop:

Giuseppe Zanotti "Yana" Pumps ($537.00)

[gogmstuff]

Some 1690s (from top to bottom) -

ca. 1690 Beatrice Violante of Bavaria, Grand Princess of Tuscany by Bartolomeo Mancini (Museo Civico Pinacoteca Crociani - Montepulciano, Sienna, Toscana, Italy). From tumblr.com/roehenstart 1280X1492 @72 685kj.

ca. 1693 Comtesse de Balleroy by Nicolas de Largilliere (Aguttes - 6Dec22 auction Lot 48). From their Web site 2224X2798 @144 6Mp.

[itoshi-s]

my pp brain queuing up my nightly caca insane kaiser sex thoughts:

ok hear me out . saur we more or less got a confirmation that kaiser is into orgasm denial . WHAT IF down the future where ur engaged to kaiser, he spends the weeks leading up to ur wedding teasing the shit out of you n not rlly letting u cum properly, always yanking himself out at the last minute n leaving u all desperate and unsatisfied. no matter how much u beg n cry n try to bargain with him, he won't let u cum.

fast forward to after the wedding, once all the festivities n the ceremonies are over and kaiser finally has u all to himself, he fucks the living daylights outta you on ur wedding night. its ur first night together as a married couple, and he's not stopping until he's railed u till dawn, finally letting u cum but quickly overstimulating u as he fucks u over n over again until all u can think about is how good he feels n that u cant live without him...

bonus points if hes still being some kind of smug ass abt it... teasing abt how cute u look when u cum... asking if taking ur "husband's cock" feels that good...

i need a lobotomy asap

mAC EXCISE ME EKSKSKAKALLALA I AM LITERALLY IN SHOCK I HAD TO LET THIS THOT MARINATE IN MT INBOX I AM.. I AM SPEECHLESS ACTUALLY

pls he teases u sooooo muCH u are like at the v verge of starting a fight w him over it lol. you’re just so frustrated even tho it’s not the first time around ,,,, but he just laughs it off. ‘aren’t you used to this already????? in fact i thought u enjoyed it.. isnt this why u are marrying me in the first place’ 😔 he’s insufferable for reAL SJDJKS

but then he makes sure you get all the funny looks possible the morning after !!! you sigh and whine a bit trying to cover up the numerous hickeys and bite marks along your décolletage (u told him not to do it. u are abt to go out and greet the guests in a pretty deep neckline. but frankly, michael does not care). what earns u the most looks and teasing comments is not your tired expression or the bruises — it’s the wobble of ur legs as you walk into the reception LOOOOOOL he holds an arm around ur waist securely n grins so smugly u wanna smack it right off 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[antiquesintheattic]

i am the number one hater of v neck t-shirts on men i’m not even sorry. sweaters are fine if layered with something else but no notttt come in here with your fucking décolletage

[frostironfudge]

Labyrinth - Bucky Barnes - Chapter VI

Summary: labyrinth (noun), a complicated set of paths and passages, through which it is difficult to find your way. Bucky and You would do anything for Steve and Wanda, your respective best friends. In an attempt to avoid a tradition Steve and Wanda come up with a lie involving their best friends.  A lie, that involves building a labyrinth. Bucky and You begin to build but will you two find your way out or be caught in it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, (Modern AU)

Word Count: 9.8k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: chapter contains 18+ moments, minors DNI, there is ALOT, I MEAN ALOT OF SMUT, and implied smut, puffin and sunshine are filthy, dirty talk, p in v, dom/sub undertones, cum play?, bondage (idk bucky's tie is mentioned somewhere), fingering, size kink, allusions to cockwarming, thigh riding, this whole chapter is mostly horny, oh i forgot to add food play (ya'll wont look at this one thing the same way), there is angst too, also sad moments as well, also fluff, puffin and sunshine are idiots who can't see they are in love and wanda and steve have a plan and that plan is executed here. also soare means sun in romanian. sharon is a total bitch.

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Masterlist || Fic Playlist

The taste is divine on his tongue. Lips coated in the sweet nectar dripping from the oasis that quells his thirst. Chest heaving, audible breathing, and the flush on the planes of his chest. 

Bucky groans as the pre-workout kicks in, humming as the burst of energy thrums through his body. Fuck, its a good workout day for him. 

“Fuck.” He breathes, eyes on the weights, he could do another set. The text tone chimes above the music playing. Heading to the corner, phone in hand. 

Sunshine: would you be able to come over? 

Puffin: bad day?

Sunshine: somewhat? 

Puffin: I'll be there in an hour, sunshine. 

The minute you open the door, Bucky’s line of questioning is interrupted by your lips. His hands grab onto your waist, humming appreciatively as you mould into him perfectly. 

Fuck he missed this, it had been about a week since he last sunk into you. 

Being lost in the abyss that was created by the two of you, together. Burning bright. 

Your nails rake along his forearms, Bucky groans against the spot on your neck he’s claimed. Your walls clench around him, not allowing him to leave. Pleasure courses through your bodies. 

“Squeezing me so tight, Sunshine.” Bucky pulls himself up and you, hand around your throat, back arched while your shoulders grazed against his sweat slicked chest. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” You preen as he feels even deeper, the tip of his length pushing right against the spot that has you closer to falling apart. 

“Look at you, so fucked out, need to cum don’t you?” He groans yet again, his own orgasm barrelling towards him, every pretty sound you make going right to his dick. 

“Yes, fuck, you want to cum too don’t you? C-Can feel your cock twitching— so, oh, good—,” Bucky’s palm leaves your neck, moving over the expanse of your décolletage. He grasps your breast, index and thumb twisting your nipple making you cry out. Your words melting on your tongue. 

Bucky nips at your shoulder, you shudder in his grasp, “Come on Sunshine, give me my third one.” He coaxes, the coil snaps, your hand braces against the wall, the other clutching onto his forearm as your legs shake. 

Your mind a haze, you feel Bucky’s hand return to hold you up, his own hips stuttering in rhythm. 

Your breathing hard but you know he needs to tip over, “Fill me up, fuck Bucky, can feel every vein and ridge, so big, so good, cum for me. Wanna feel it, every last drop.” Your hand moves to his hair, tugging on it bringing his lips to yours, Bucky moans as he cums, coating your spasming walls with himself. 

He craved you.

every part of him craved every part of you.

Puffin: Can I come over? 

Sunshine: who pissed you off today?

Puffin: Walker. 

Sunshine: Does an hour sound okay?

Puffin: perfect 

Sunshine: bring snacks. 

Puffin: don’t I always get you snacks?

Sunshine: those tasteless protein bars are not snacks. 

Puffin: that was all I had that night! how was I to know you’d pass out?!

Sunshine: a good dom knows. 

Puffin: [insert eye roll GIF]

Puffin: brat. 

Sunshine: fuck the brat out of me. 

Puffin: oh I plan on it. 

That night he makes sure you’re begging for release. Edging you for hours on end. His own cock painfully hard aching. Eager to be wrapped up in your warmth. 

Bucky’s dark eyes raked over your form, so pretty kneeling with your hands tied, mouth on his cock, spit and precum smeared over your lips and chin. 

The remote controlled vibrator being toyed with in time with your mouth moving on his length. His balls feel heavier each time you moan around him or give soft licks to the underside. 

Bucky keeps you close then, as your daze expression clears. Every so softly your fingertips reach for his arm. Careful touches to the inked lines on his skin. 

He sighs softly, closing his eyes. Willing himself to pull away from these soft touches. The way you trace the tattoos as if memorising him. He can’t have that, he can’t have you etched onto his skin. 

The tattoos he can get rid of, you however? 

You would remain there eternally etched onto his skin, inked onto his heart. 

Standing outside his door is daunting, you hadn’t been here in about three months. Mostly the two of you met at your apartment. You fix the strap of your small bag, after this you are going to head to Wanda's. The wedding was nearing and the first plan of action was to schedule everything over the week. 

Four planners were involved — the bride and grooms as well as Bucky and your own. 

He opens the door shirtless. That stops every thought in your brain. Dark ink gracing his skin in intricate patterns that you’ve stolen moments tracing. 

Bucky had chalked it up to you needing to touch him as part of aftercare, however only you knew you were giving into a small part of yourself that wished to have more. Your eyes move from the constellation pattern, one of your personal favourites. To his face. 

“I was thinking…” He opens the door wider, to allow you inside. 

“That is dangerous.” You tease, he rolls his eyes but doesn’t retort. 

You walk by the kitchen a little too quickly, even though the previous events are long gone, months old. You don’t want a rehash. The new oven you bought was beautiful, not as beautiful as the state of the art one he had tucked in his kitchen but you loved your little baby. 

You may have dreamed about Bucky’s oven more than anything else. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky frowns noticing your quick stride.

“Nothing,” you pick up Alpine as she curls around your feet. Greeting her with a kiss to her sweet little nose. 

“How is my favourite little kitty cat?” You coo, she chirps, nuzzling against your neck making you laugh. 

Bucky watches as Alpine has you wrapped around her little paw as well. She yet hadn’t given up your sweater and it was now a permanent fixture in his house. Somehow it would be the thing that would calm Alpine down if she was mad at him. 

“What were you thinking?” You divert the topic as Alpine leaps out of your arms going to her scratch post and then her perch in the guest room. 

“Could you request Wanda to keep Steve and my required wedding stuff in the evenings? I know Wanda has a bit of wiggle room since she owns her firm and you do too.” He scratches the back of his head. 

Don’t look at the bicep, don’t look at the bicep— oh those chest muscles—no. 

“Um, yeah, uh I can try, why aren’t Steve or you asking this of Wanda?” You raise a brow, his cheeks tinge pink in the slightest. 

“Well Wanda can be…” he trails off, then you actually watch him shudder. 

“Wanda scares you?” You giggle, not being able to picture Bucky being afraid of her. 

“Don’t tell me you aren’t.” He scoffs, moving closer to you. You were wearing the navy shirt, the buttons aching to be undone one at a time. While he would worship your skin as you would pray his name. 

You notice his gaze flicker down, over your body. Goosebumps spread across your skin, he steps closer towering above you. His cologne is different and more citrusy, a hint of spice comes through as well. 

Your head tilted back as Bucky’s fingers play with the baby hairs at the base of your neck. The delicate touch sending shivers through you and hardening your nipples. 

“No bra?” He hums, free hand cupping your breast and squeezing. You gasp as he twists the peak between his fingers. Arousal pools in your belly. 

You wet your bottom lip, then biting into it as he repeats his ministrations on the other nipple. 

“Fuck—,” You’re pulled closer, his length hardening against your lower abdomen, the grey sweats he wore doing nothing to hold back the outline of him. 

“If I,” He muses, hand moving from your neck along your back. 

“Do this,” his palm squeezes your ass, then moves along your hip bone to the front. 

“Will I find you not wearing any panties, Sunshine?” He cups your mound, your legs part for him. 

Your hands find purchase against his warm chest. 

He grinds his palm against you, when he groans you know he can feel the wetness coating the fabric and now his palm. 

“Little brat wanted to be fucked right as she entered?” He bites down on his bottom lip as your whimpers fuel his own arousal.  He trails his hand up, pushing through the waistband of your leggings. 

The heat of you coats his fingers, the deep guttural groan from him, has you clench around his fingers as they stay buried inside you. 

“Should I bend you over the kitchen counter?” His thumb flicks your clit and you cry out. 

“Maybe keep you perched on the counter and eat this pretty pussy out, till she soaks my beard.” His hands increase pace.  

“Fuck—,” You moan, “God—,” your nails dig into his chest as his fingers continue their relentless pace. 

Bucky laughs, “He’s not doing anything to you, Sunshine. It’s all me, go on say the name of the man making you feel this way, filling you up so good with just his fingers. No God is feeling how fucking tight you are for me, squeezing my fingers, eager to have my cock.” 

The coil begins to tighten in your belly, your hips grinding on his fingers, “Fuck, please—,”

“Not unless you say my name.” His pace slows down, you mewl, raking your nails down his chest, “You know that only turns me on more, go on.” 

You look up at him through hazy eyes, he’s smirking knowing just how to move his fingers to either give you your orgasm or snatch it away and edge you. 

“Fuck you.” You grit, trying to grind onto his unmoving fingers. 

“Oh you will.” He assures, “Just my name, Sunshine. Or are you already feeling fucked out?” He begins to thrust again, your legs shaking as your orgasm nears. 

“Asshole.” You grit, when he stops yet again. 

“Not my name, Sunshine.” He tuts, hand retreating, middle and ring fingers coated in your arousal, he traces your lips coating them with you. 

“No movements, no taste.” He warns, taking his fingers in between his lips, humming at the way you taste. Your cunt throbs, a plea to be touched right on the tip of your tongue. 

His lips crash onto yours, the taste of you shared across the taste of his lips, the two of you moan in unison. Your hand moves over the expanse of his chest and abdomen, pushing at the sweats, Bucky’s hands are too busy grabbing your ass, your palm finds his length, cupping him through the sweatpants. 

Bucky’s balance of lifting you shifts, he groans into your mouth as you squeeze harder, the fabric combined with your touch distracting him. 

You push forth, backing him on to the couch. You push down the leggings, not taking off the shirt, you knew how much Bucky enjoyed peeling this off of your body. 

He pants, watching you lower his sweats freeing his length.

Hands grip your hips as you straddle him, your folds rubbing over his length. Bucky throws his head back as you sink onto him inch by delicious inch. Your walls flutter around him. Adjusting and taking him so well. 

“So good, Sunshine. So fucking perfect.” He praises, your lips move from his jaw to his neck, his cock deep inside you, tip sitting right at the spot that he’s seemingly placed. 

“Move, Sunshine.” He groans as you nip on his collarbone and then over his shoulder where his inked skin begins. 

“Say my name.” Your head is tugged back, thin rings of blue greet your smug expression. 

“You have to say mine, first.” He reminds you shrug. 

“Puffin.” You tease, it earns you a slap to your ass. The movement jolts the two of you. The tip of his cock presses right on the spot. You can’t stop the needy preen that slips past your lips. 

Bucky knows this game, the two of you holding off till one breaks, he didn't keep score but he knew the two of you have broken resolve in equal parts. Your pussy feels so good around him, he wants you moaning his name. 

He wants to be your only thought. 

You feel his palm around your neck, your eyes snap to his, there is a change in his demeanour. The world moves on its axis you’re under him, back pressed into the couch. 

Bucky rasps your name over and over, the way his hips move. Each stroke deep, hitting the spot over and over his name tumbles from your lips.  

Your legs wrapped around his hips, Bucky supports himself on one hand. The tattooed left hand grips your collar. The fabric ribs buttons sliding across onto the floor. 

He moans at the fight of your flesh, faded marks he left on your chest greet him. He presses on your lower abdomen. You cry out. 

“Bucky—,”

“I’m fucking deep aren’t I?” He moves to cup your jaw. 

You nod mindlessly, your fingers wrapped around his wrist. The grip on your jaw is tight. 

Your back arching as he fucks you harder and harder, breaths panting, sweat slicked chests colliding, Bucky watches as your eyes roll back when your orgasm takes you under. The way your lips part in a moan but he can hear the soft whisper of his name. 

Your hand moves from raking your nails down his back to cup his face, you reach up, lips meeting in a sloppy kiss as he slows his face. You whine when he pulls out of you. 

“Bucky—,” 

“Kitchen.” He says, he can’t get the image of you sprawled out on the counter out of his mind. Years ago it was a fantasy of his, maybe he’d come home, find you baking. 

You’d smear frosting onto his cheek, it would turn from sweet moments into you falling apart for him and piecing him back together. 

Bringing himself out of the fantasy he looks down at you. Your heart thuds, “I—,”

“Do you like Dulche de Leche?” He enquires, you nod. 

“Good, I want to taste it off of your skin.” He declares, standing and helping you up. Your legs wobble but he takes most of your weight. 

Bucky places you on the kitchen island, heading to the fridge. You watch him, cock glistening with your remnants and bobbing with his movements. 

You swallow, he looks so delicious. Bucky returns, using a spoon to smear it over your collarbones, warm lips trail across licking the sauce. You shudder as he nips at the flesh. 

“Wanna taste Sunshine?” He brings his ring finger to your lips, the saltiness mixed with sweet taste coats your tongue, you hum in delight, eyes locked with his gleaming ones. 

“Lay back.” He says, you follow, the cold marble has your arch up slightly, Bucky pours the confection across your sternum, over your nipples and along your abdomen. Your inner thighs are traced as well.  

Taking his time to lick your skin clean by the time he reaches your pussy, you’re quivering and aching for him. Tears stinging your eyes from the sensitivity. Your hands try to find purchase tugging on his hair. 

“Look at you, dripping all over the counter.” He chuckles, grasping your thighs and then pulling you up. Forehead touching his, you whine, wanting to orgasm yet again. 

Bucky has you stand, turned and bent over. You moan as he slams into you in one smooth stroke, crying out at the fullness. Bucky’s responding groan reverberates through you. 

Your hands claw at the counter to find something to hold onto as he beings to fuck you, grunts and groans tumble past Bucky’s lips, praises of how you’re good to him, how beautiful you taste, how pretty you look this way. Your left hand grips the long edge, the right knocks over the glass container coating your hand in the dulce de leche. 

“Look at you making a mess in my kitchen, think of how I could bend you over anytime I come home and find you there, just in that little apron of yours—fuck, pussy’s gripping me like a vice.” 

You’re both too far gone, chasing release, your hips move, meeting Bucky back for each thrust, tears rolling down your cheeks at how good he feels. 

“So good, so good, right there, oh–,” 

“You feel so deep— Bucky!” You babble when all he has to do is toy with your clit, you shudder against the counter, your back making you arch off of it. Bucky’s palm pressed on your sternum, he keeps you pressed against him. 

He moans your name so beautifully that you want to keep hearing it from his lips as he cums inside you. Chest heaving you try to carry your own weight but he doesn’t allow you too. Still inside you but you can feel the mix of your orgasms coating your thighs. 

“That was,” Bucky looks down at you as you look up at him. 

Your eyes move to his neck, “Oh…” 

Your Dulce de Leche coated fingertips smear the caramel across his neck and chest. The other side of his neck peppered in blooming love bites. You wince, he was adamant about non visible markings on him. 

“I’m sorry—,”

“It’s okay, it’s just sauce…” carefully he pulls out of you, you grip the counter. 

“No… The… you need to look in the mirror…” you prompt, eyes downcast because you knew this was going to lead to an argument. 

Bucky frowns but then moves out of the kitchen and into his room. 

Then his words make their way into his mind. 

What the fuck had he said? 

‘Look at you making a mess in my kitchen, think of how I could bend you over anytime I come home and find you there, just in that little apron of yours—,’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

His dick throbs in remembrance of the way you felt around him. He doesn’t even care about the lovebites. He never did, it was just a precaution against developing feelings for you. Craving you being the one marking him, claiming him. 

“I’m sorry.” You say from the doorway, your ripped apart shirt back on but being held by your hands in place. 

“It’s fine, just don’t—,”

“I know, I’ll be careful next time, maybe bite down on my own hand or something?” You look down at the carpet. 

Bucky wants to tell you no, you don’t need to be careful but he bites his tongue. He’s said enough on the brink of bliss. 

“I’m going to go shower and then—,”

“Sunshine,” What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s become greedy, “You gotta help clean this mess up.” 

You’ve made him greedy. Insatiable. Feral. 

Bucky moves towards you, a hunter stalking towards its prey. Dark eyes pinning you in place. You feel yourself grow wetter as he closes in, your hand moves fingers collecting the arousal that coats your folds. 

Bucky licks his lips, parting his lips when you raise your hand. You chuckle, smearing it over the mess you had already smeared on his neck. 

Then your lips latch onto his neck. Bucky groans, he adores this, when you do something so utterly obscene. Your hand pumps his cock as you lap at him. Humming and moaning. You’re taking him towards unravelling, his tip sensitive your thumb gathers the precum. 

“Fuck baby,” He groans, your heart flips, his fingers tweak your nipples, “Shower, now.” He growls, lips brushing against yours as the only warning before he lifts you up carrying you to the bathroom. 

You’re sprawled across his bed, sheets twisted around you. Head against his chest, Bucky’s breathing evenly. You woke up about fifteen minutes ago. The clock reads 1 AM. 

Aftercare cuddling had turned into him offering you a plate of fruits, definite upgrade from those nasty protein bars. You blanch at the memory of them alone. Cardboard. Ew. 

You had to leave, sleepovers weren’t something the two of you did, no matter how late or exhausting the fucking got, though you’d prefer to just lay here. You couldn’t tell him off in the middle of sex when he said he’d come home to you in the kitchen. 

That fantasy was born when you first knew him, wondering if sex in the kitchen would be something you two would ever do. He was making you want more. You had to remind yourself he was probably just talking dirty. 

The little voice in the back of your mind wished it wasn’t just that, but this wouldn’t work. Taking a deep inhale slowly you pull away. Bucky’s arms tighten, you huff. 

“Puffin, I need to go.” You whisper. 

“Soare.” He grumbles, pulling you closer. The way he says that you’ve seldom heard it since the night at the Khan’s. Too chicken to even attempt to google the translation. 

You pull away, his arms fall from you. Bucky grabs onto the pillow you were using, nuzzling himself to it. You watch as his breathing evens out. Keeping your footsteps light you go out into the hallway, Alpine watches you from the couch. 

Her little fish toy on the floor. Your gaze moves to the bag you brought an ironed Navy shirt folded upon your leggings which were folded too. You swallow. 

‘Since I rendered yours unusable, you can have mine.’ - puffin. 

Putting it on, feels intimate as if this is not something the two of you should be doing. Alpine meows when you finish buttoning it up. 

Then she begins pawing at the sheet you were wearing as you’re folding it rendering the task futile. You sigh at her. 

“Not helpful.” You chide, she cutely climbs the sheet and is almost face level with you. 

“Yeah, making beds is a nightmare in this house.” 

You turn to Bucky, heart racing, “At least indicate you’re awake.” 

“Thought you heard me.” He shrugs a smug expression on his face, fuck him and those grey sweatpants. 

Well you technically did fuck him and maybe he also made you grind down on his thigh and you’re pretty sure you left a mark on those sweatpants too. 

Focus. Focus. Focus. 

What is he doing? Where are his hands— Bucky stands again from kneeling as he grabs the end of the sheet effectively creating a hammock for Alpine. 

The cat meows and rolls around. You giggle, swinging it gently with him, watching her have the time of her life on the makeshift swing. 

Bucky watches you absolutely adore Alpine, the way you look in his shirt however? He’s glad the sheet is there. After a few minutes Alpine gets bored jumping out of her hammock. Bucky and you fold the sheet. He holds it to himself as you take your bag. 

“I’ll try to have the stuff you need to be there for in the evenings.” You look at him, he gives you a grateful smile. 

“I’d appreciate that.” He swallows the lump in his throat, the voice that wants you to stay over. 

“Are you heading to their place?” He asks as you turn away. 

“Yeah,” you look down at your phone finally, you had messaged her about the plan to meet up with Bucky. Her texts urge you to take your time and stay over.  

Wanda: if he fucked you to sleep I will gift him his favourite food item. Your night owl ways need to be curbed. 

You snort. 

He wonders what's making you laugh. You turn to him. 

“Wanda’s going to give you your favourite food item.” You type back a reply to Wanda as Bucky processes the information. 

“For what?” 

“Fucking me to sleep, she hates I stay up late.” 

“Why do you stay up late?” He questions. 

“That's a pretty loaded answer…” shrugging, you head to the door again. 

“I want to know.” He says easily. 

Four simple words, you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you don’t turn, reminding him. He frowns. You’ve heard him complain, let him rant to you but you hardly ever do the same. 

“You can trust me.” He steps closer. 

“I know.” 

Another few steps and he’s right behind you, you can almost feel his body heat. 

“Then why won’t you speak to me?” He questions, his chest feels heavy, akin to a column about to collapse under the weight of your next words, “Why do you always hide away?” 

“Because I’m scared.” You choose the truth, you are scared. 

It took alot from Bucky, you know it was taking a lot from him to speak to you. 

“Scared of what, Sunshine?” He raises his hand to touch your shoulder, he wants to see you. 

“That this is all just play pretend.” You whisper. 

Before Bucky can say anything your phone begins to ring, Wanda’s picture taking over the screen you walk away from him into the kitchen to answer. 

When you return he’s put on a shirt, sitting on the couch. 

“So I’m heading out.” You say slowly. 

He nods. 

“Look I didn’t mean anything by what I said, I just there is alot on my plate. My family hasn’t been the easiest to deal with and my cousin ratted out that I got fired and started baking full time so it's just…” you shrug, he sighs. 

“I understand. Drive safe.” He moves into his room, as you leave. 

Bucky lays in his bed, pulling the sheets and the pillow closer. The scent of you lingers as well as residual heat. He closes his eyes. 

He could pretend you decided to stay. 

After all it’s all play pretend. 

Five days later Bucky gets a call from Steve on his way home. 

“Hey man.” Steve sounds apologetic. 

“What do you need Mr. Groom?” Bucky laughs already knowing it's something wedding related. 

“I need you to come down to the baker’s for cake tasting.” 

“Is Wanda not coming?” He frowns, pulling onto the shoulder to get the address. 

“She is, just I’m stuck at work and it's an emergency and I don’t want to miss this cake thing either…” Steve groans, “I mean she’s going to decide anyway and you get good cakes?” 

“Alright yeah, I’m free, I’ll be there. Good luck at work.” 

“Luck? What?”

“For the emergency?” Bucky sounds sceptical. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry man I just, thanks I owe ya, oh and don’t tell them you aren’t me, they hate that thing!” 

The call disconnects leaving Bucky to stare at his phone for a few minutes before he begins to drive to the cake shop. 

“Ah Mr. Rogers!” A sickly sweet voice greets, the woman’s hair pinned up and nails well manicured holding a cigarette outside the shop. 

“Um?” Bucky raises a brow and she puts out the cigarette.

“Your other half is waiting; come, come, we’re so excited to have you both!” She ushers him inside. Bucky’s eyes move over the decor. What was Wanda thinking? Everything is frilly and floral and over the top and why are you sitting here with a nervous smile on your face?

“Y/N—Mrs. Rogers.” He corrects with a smile. 

“Hey Buck—Steve.” You press your lips into a thin line. 

“Ah get settled, I’ll bring out your tasting cakes.” The woman claps and leaves the two of you. 

Bucky looks around again before sitting. 

“Don’t look at your right.” You warn, Bucky looks to his right and his eyes widen comically. 

The entire wall is lined with porcelain dolls. 

“Why are there so many?” He whispers, not able to tear his eyes away.

“I think it's so no one steals cake.” You whisper back, “Also don’t make sudden movements.” 

“Why?” He still looks at the dolls, you look at him, studying his features. 

“Because the eyes follow you.” 

“Here!” 

Both of you shudder and look at the tray in front of you. 

“Thank you Karen.” You smile, she beams. 

“I see you are enjoying the company.” She points at the dolls, “I’ve been collecting since I’ve been baking.” Karen moves to wipe something off of the doll’s face, “Little naughty ones love frosting.” 

Bucky and you exchange a glance, you warn him not to ask. 

“Frosting?” He still enquired, you clutch his thigh in further warning, he puts his hand over yours. 

“Ah yes, they gobble it up by the truck load, you two taste I’ll check on the remaining cakes.”

Bucky whips his head towards you, “We need to leave.” 

“We have to taste the cakes.” You defend. 

“The dolls will taste us before we eat the cakes.” He points at them and swears one just winked at him. 

“Bucky.” You roll your eyes, but the dolls creep you the fuck out too. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel like the one in the pink dress doesn't think we may taste great.” 

You follow his line of vision. The pink frills match the interior a little too well. 

You swallow, no argument in place. 

“Run on three?” He offers.

“Emergency at home?” You offer. 

“Grandma fell?” He says, you nod. 

“Wait, is your grandma alive?” You ask, holding his hand. 

“Nope, she passed when I was ten but she said anytime I need to get out of something I can say she’s hurt or worse. She called it her ‘get out of hell’ good deed.” He laughs.

“She sounds amazing.” You chuckle. 

The two of you stand, hand in hand. Looking down at the cakes the scent of them indicates too much essence being put and the cakes look dry as hell. 

You wince, “Should we leave something?” 

“A hundred?” He wonders, reaching for his wallet. He holds it while still holding your hand. 

The bill tucked into the plate Bucky leads you out.

“Karen, we have an emergency. My grandma fell down the stairs and we need to leave!” He calls out, just as she emerges from the kitchen. 

“Oh no you can’t—,”

“So sorry!” You call as he opens the door leading you out. 

“The Dolls!” She leaps over the counter, Bucky tugs on your arm, your steps asynchronous, the two of you run across the lot, closed down shops pass by in a blur and you want to laugh despite feeling breathless. 

Bucky guides you behind the corner of the building, you’re pressed against the wall trapped by him. Chests meeting as your breaths catch. You look up at him, he’s already looking at you. 

A moment passes and then the two of you burst out laughing. 

“Where are you Mr and Mrs. Rogers?” Karen calls out. 

The two of you press a palm to each other’s mouths, it only triggers more laughter. Bucky shakes his head at you, slowly the two of you move further along the side of the building slipping back. 

There aren’t any street lamps or lights. The only guide is having you pressed against him and the scarce light from the far end. 

“Where is your car?” He asks as softly as he can manage, breath fanning across your lips. Your eyelids flutter. 

“Used a taxi…” 

“My car’s in the pay and park next building over.”

“How much physical exertion have you planned for today?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

He chuckles, “It depends how needy you can get for me before the drive to your house ends.” 

“Careful, Mr. Barnes, I might just have to get you as needier.” 

“Shh, it's Mr. Rogers, that’s why we’re having sex recklessly, in an alley.” His thumb brushes over your lips. 

You breathe a laugh against his digit. 

“Lead the way then, Mr. Rogers.” 

He hums, cupping your face and kissing you deeply. His knee parting your legs and having you pressed flush against him. Your fingers tangle with his hair, tugging him closer. 

Bucky’s hands explore your body, moving under your shirt, thumbs stroking over your sides. You shiver in his grasp. He pulls away from yours lips, nose touching yours, “Have you ever been eaten out in a car?” 

You shake your head, fingertips rubbing soft circles on his scalp. 

“That’s about to change, Sunshine.”

“You’re fucking glowing.” Wanda grins brightly, making you laugh. 

“I’m literally not—,”

“Oh shush, this post sex glow is amazing—,”

“We did not have sex, last we hooked up was about a week ago.” You explain, a part of you did yearn for Bucky you had told your best friend that, but you knew it wouldn’t work and keeping the greedier side of you in check was getting difficult. 

“So are you going to tell him?” Wanda wiggles her brows, you huff out a no, she frowns, “Why not?” 

“Wan, he doesn’t want any of that, it's been what three, four months? We fuck a few times and that is it.” Your hands pause over the dress, it’s something similar to what you’ve had in mind for your own wedding. 

“Wants change, he could want more? If you don’t ask, how will he know?” She squeals, finding her dress. 

You move towards her, eyes brimming with tears at her happiness. 

“Don’t get emotional on me.” She warns her own throat tightening. 

“Why?” You wipe at the tears pooling. 

“Because then I’ll cry.” She hugs you tightly. 

You hug her back, gently cradling her head. 

“Ma’am, champagne?” The store manager asks. 

Wanda nods, “Lots of it.”

Just as she goes in to change, Steve and Bucky walk into the area. The former bounds over to hug you, you smile. Bucky steals your gaze standing behind Steve. He gives you a wave. You wave back. 

“Ah, Ms. Maximoff mentioned her fiance would be joining in.” The manager has the employee offer both of them champagne flutes. 

“Yes, thank you for accommodating us, Wanda appreciates it as do I.” Steve smiles. 

“Do the parents know you guys are doing this?” Bucky chuckles, you notice him retrieving his film camera from his bag. 

“Not one bit, but we aren’t following any traditions so, no harm no foul.” Steve shrugs. 

The sleeves of Bucky’s shirt rolled to his forearms, you watch as the employees fawn over him. Steve hides his smile behind the glass. The way the two of them had left you alone for the cake tasting and then choosing the matching napkins. 

With the way Bucky couldn’t stop talking about you and Wanda reporting you not being able to get Bucky out of your head. Steve was completely sure their next step was at the right moment. 

Bucky begins taking test shots, a few of the racks of dresses, and a few of Steve. When he turns with the camera towards you he starts laughing at the silly face you pull. 

Only to be cut off by you gasping, “Oh, Wanda.” You feel yourself get emotional yet again, Steve looks at her, jaw dropped and completely in awe. Wanda pinned her hair to one side, the assistant brought in a veil placing it upon her. 

Wanda nervously shifts the fabric around. Her eyes on Steve, in that moment everyone looking at them witnesses the love between the two. Steve stands making his way to her. Cupping her face and kissing her forehead. 

“I want to marry you right here.” He says making Wanda blush. 

“Really?” She chuckles, hands wrapped around his wrists. 

“Truly, just so I can take the dress off of you with my teeth.” 

“Steve.” Bucky sighs, did they ever stop? He takes more pictures. 

“What? She’s so gorgeous!” He says as if he cannot be blamed. 

“I am though.” Wanda grins, cupping his cheek and kissing him. 

“You think they’ll do it?” You whisper. 

“Why? Do you want to win the bet?” He raises a brow. 

“I want to know if they’ll kick us all out or—,” you pause, noticing one of the employees taking your dream dress into the changing room. 

“What is it?” He looks at the employee too. 

“Oh nothing, just remembered I need to buy chocolate chips.” You make your way over to Wanda when Steve finally pulls himself away. 

She squeals, intertwining your hands, giddy with excitement. 

“I love it.” You tell her, “Oh, you’re the prettiest bride ever.” 

Her cheeks tinge pink again, her gaze moving to Steve who looks at her with the most adoring look in his eyes. 

“I’m in love.” He declares. 

“Punk, you better be.” Bucky warns him. 

Their gazes meet and Bucky gives him one of the rare smiles, he’s so elated for the two of them. 

“Come on.” Wanda leads you to the changing rooms.

“Why?” 

“Just, come on.” 

When you get inside Wanda pushes you into a room with a dress, no, the dress you were admiring. 

“Wan…”

“Oh come on, we’ve always wanted to play dress up.” She ushers you in, “Go on get into the robe I’ll be there to help zip up.” 

The sleeves are intricate, it’s off shoulder and shows off your cleavage in a borderline risqué way but it looks absolutely gorgeous. The skirt is not poofy at all and can be attached to your wrist so it wouldn’t bother you while dancing or during the transition from ceremony to reception.  

“Oh I know you want two weddings, one white and another traditional and this is so beautiful.” Wanda claps, back in her regular attire. You smile. 

“Come on, they have the veil outside.” She walks away. 

“What no, I’m not—,” 

Her look silences you. You follow. 

Steve sees Wanda walk out. Bucky stops talking the second he looks behind Wanda at you. He swears he can feel his heart stop. 

The veil is placed on you, you watch yourself in the mirror. He swallows, not noticing that Wanda and Steve are giving each other pats on their backs. 

You notice his gaze through the mirror, your cheeks warming at the way he can’t stop giving you once overs, again and again. 

“Sunshine.” He says, the word heavy, laced with something he’s terrified to recognise, terrified to name. 

“Puffin.” You say with equal regard, worried this is throwing everything off kilter. You can’t lose him. 

His gaze falls to the wedding ring on your hand, chest tightening. He looks away from you. 

The spell breaks, you bite your lip going back inside. 

Steve looks up at the ceiling, “Why did you make them both stubborn?” He whispers. 

“I’m so close to locking them in a room with a signboard each that has their sappy declarations of love from years ago.” Wanda whispers to him. 

“I might assist you with that.”

“Might?” 

“I will, my love.” 

“Much better Mr. Rogers.” She pats his chest, he laughs, kissing the top of her head. 

Bucky fiddles with his own wedding band, he says nothing at all even as Wanda’s dress is paid for, his thoughts scrambled, only filled by you and what the two of you could be. 

You fare no better at the boy’s fittings. Steve looks amazing in his navy blue suit, Wanda almost makes you and Bucky get online ordained, but when Bucky emerges in his charcoal grey three piece and a maroon pocket square to match your Maid of Honour dress colour. You can’t help but picture the two of you together. 

Wanda’s words ring in your mind, maybe you should just confess? Tell Bucky that you want more? See what he wants and if it’s the same thing good. 

If it isn’t… you don’t want to know what it would feel like losing him a second time. 

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice Wanda and Steve hastily exit the restaurant. You blink at Bucky, he looks at you with worry. 

“I spaced out…” you admit to him, he nods. 

“There was something wrong at Wanda’s parents house.” He repeats the reason. You nod. 

“Do you want to continue with dinner?”  

He holds up two credit cards, “Meals on the Rogers’, so I say we take revenge for the dolls.” He grins mischievously, blue eyes shining bright. Making you laugh. 

Bucky grins wider when you do. He loves seeing your smile. Loves being the one making you smile. 

“What's the most over the top dish they have?” You wonder. 

“There is a cheese wheel with gold foil.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Your nose scrunches, but pasta did sound good. 

Bucky hands the valet his ticket, you shiver at the temperature change. Your jacket in Wanda’s car. Bucky takes his coat off wrapping it around your shoulders but he says nothing. 

“Won’t you get cold?” You shift closer to him. 

He’s about to protest but then shifts you in front of him, arms wrapped around you. 

“You will warm me up, Sunshine.” His voice is deep, you don’t shiver in his grasp because of the cold any longer, “Won’t you?” 

His hands move over your sides, to your waist, pulling your hips flush against his front. 

“So pretty wrapped around my cock while I play with your sweet little clit.” 

“B-Bucky,” Your hands find his fingers fitting into the space between his own. Rings aligned. 

That night in your bed, it wasn’t hard and fast chasing pleasure. He touched you with the tenderness you gave to him. 

Kisses slow, deep, he held you close afraid to let you go. 

Hips flush with yours, just moans of your name and his, a melody reverberating in your hearts. One with each beat. 

Your hands cupping his face, tracing his skin, over the lines by his eyes, he says nothing as you leave an imprint upon him. 

He doesn’t want to wash you away. 

Words on the tip of your tongue, silently spoken onto his skin and lips. 

Words on the tip of his tongue, aching to reply to each syllable you write upon him. 

On the brink of bliss as the two of you would fall over, Bucky kisses you, not to swallow down your moans or pleas but to be one with you in the afterglow. 

As reality sets in, he pulls away. You both know what transpired tonight would have to be spoken about. It could wait, the two of you selfishly wanting this to last. 

Bucky kisses your cheek before leaving, eyes lingering on the frame near your kitchen.  

“It was the order that saved me from shutting my baking down.” You tell him. He reads the date, three years ago between the time you were with Beck. 

Wordlessly he leaves, you stare at the frame too, the order summary always putting a smile on your face. 

“Oh my god I can’t believe it will be three weeks to the wedding when we get back!” Sharon squeals as you all put on your shoes clearing through security. 

Wanda gives her a tightlipped smile.

“Y/N, is your bridesmaids dress ready?” She grins at you. 

“Maid of Honour and yes.” You correct her politely. 

“What about the bridesmaid dress I picked for you Sharon?” Wanda distracts her and she makes a face. 

“So you’re still engaged to Barnes?” Sharon scoffs, “Thought you’d realise—,”

“I’m happily engaged Sharon, please drop the whole thing.” You give her tightlipped smile before moving away. 

Bucky watches the exchange, eyes trailing after you. Things had gotten complicated. He started showing up with food at your place. You had begun to open up to him. Telling him in detail about your days and the issues with your family. The sex had gotten more sensual, somewhere more intense than fucking. The emotional facet of it opened up. 

The two of you didn’t address it, didn’t speak up about what happened at the party six years ago. Neither of you admitted to the clear as day present feelings. 

Steve and Wanda were elated that the dinner had worked. Both of them reported to each other that the two of you had felt a change. 

They knew it was just a matter of time before heartfelt admissions would happen. They hoped shoving the two of you into a cabin would work. 

You’re looking out of the window when Bucky settles in next to you on the middle seat of the plane. Your brows furrowed in confusion. He was supposed to be in first class with the others. 

“Hey.” You greet. 

“Hey.” He greets back, placing his carry on under the seat in front of him. 

“Didn’t you have first class?” 

He shakes his head, “Who told you?”

“Steve?” You sound confused.

“I don’t like spending on flight tickets. I'd rather have a better chance at excursions and hotels. Economy is good.” He shrugs. 

You look back out, he taps your shoulder after a moment. 

“Give me your ring.” 

“Why?” Your thumb traces the band. 

“I’ll give it back, I’m changing ours for fakes in case they get lost during the trip or worse stolen.” He holds up the duplicate to yours. 

“You’ll keep the original?” You pull it away and wear the fake one, it’s lighter but you feel okay having it on, too used to wearing it. 

“I’ll guard them.” He promises, placing them in a pouch in a ring box then deep into his bag. 

Sleep finds you easily, the past few days hectic with baking and delivering orders before you took a break for this trip. The layover at LAX is shorter compared to the longer flight from there to Aspen. 

Bucky’s head rests on top of yours as he too dozes off on the second flight, when Wanda comes back to ask you about something all she does is take a picture to show you later and she goes back to Steve. 

The jolt of landing wakes you up with a start, Bucky’s hand grasping yours, “Hey, you’re okay, we’re just landing.” 

You blink away the sleep and look up at him, “Puffin?”

He licks his lips wanting to kiss you. You look so adorable in between waking and sleep. 

“Yes, Sunshine.” 

The plane came to a halt and the disembarking motions followed. You’re still a little tired so you allow Bucky to lead the way. On more than one occasion you almost fall asleep against his shoulder while standing in line. 

He gazes at you worriedly, not dismissing your tiredness the way you are, he’d push you to sleep once you both would get to the room. Filled itinerary be damned. 

Wanda appears before you, the scent of coffee rousing you from your sleep addled brain. 

“I love you.” You whisper, taking the cup from her hand.

“Me or the coffee?” 

“The coffee.” You hum taking a sip. 

Bucky misses you tucked against him as Wanda steals you away. 

Steve makes his way over a smug grin on his face, Bucky scowls. 

“I said nothing.” Steve defends.  

“Your face still spoke.” He rolls his eyes, this couldn’t go on, the trip would be difficult if the two of you don’t speak to each other. 

“C’mon why are you denying yourself happiness?” 

“Because I don’t want to be hurt again.” He admits. 

“You won’t be.” 

“Steve. Just drop it.”

Brock and Sharon are busy making out in the back of the van as Steve and Bucky walk in, the two exchange a glance and settle into their seats. 

The cabins are near enough to each other but far apart for each couple’s privacy. It’s around one p.m. The plan is to meet back at the main hotel for lunch. 

Bucky turns after placing the suitcases in the living area. He seems serious. 

“I want to talk about the recent shift. I know you've noticed as well.” He says, you take a step back. 

“Yes…”

“Is it something you wish to pursue? I know we said this would be superficial.” He watches you trying to gauge your reaction. 

“I well, I wanted to talk to you about it as well, I know it wasn’t something you wanted, has that changed?” You hope, you hope he says it has, you hope he wants more. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, then another. 

There is a small crack that begins to form the longer he takes to answer, expecting the worst, knowing the worst. 

“If you don’t want too… then that’s okay… we can always discuss—,” 

“I don’t think we should continue on,” he cuts you off, upon seeing your torn expression he realises he never framed it right. He can’t get himself to speak further.  

“Oh.” You scramble to not let your heart rip to shreds. 

“Sunshine,” he steps closer. 

“No.” You raise a warning hand, “I understand and I respect your decision.” 

“Just, I don’t want you this way,” He winces, why can’t he just express himself?

“James,” 

His heart breaks. 

“It’s okay, I don’t need explanations of why you don’t want more, I, I need to go to the bathroom.” You take your bag with you. When your face is turned away from Bucky you allow your features to morph into pain. Clamping your fingers over your mouth to stop the sob. 

Bucky watches you go, not an ounce of regret or sadness on your features. Maybe, maybe his choking up from admitting his feelings was good. He clearly misinterpreted the change in your dynamic. 

The cabin only has one bedroom, he looks at the large sectional. It would be enough to accommodate him. When you emerge after twenty minutes, covering the tear tracks and redness of your eyes. 

Bucky stands from the couch, grabbing his toiletry bag. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.” He observes as your eyes move over the couch. 

“You don’t—,”

“I’d be more comfortable.” 

“If you aren’t you can always you know, we can build a pillow wall…” you scratch the back of your neck. 

If the earlier conversation wasn’t weighing down on him he would have snorted. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He walks past you. 

“Also, I won’t be telling Wanda about this… I don’t want to take away from their trip.” You watch him turn, blue eyes meet yours, he nods. 

Sharon and Brock grin wickedly as they spot the tension amidst Bucky and you. 

“What? No loveable cuddling? Is the bed not comfy?” 

“Babe, he’s probably god blue balls.” Brock sniggers. 

Steve and Wanda weren’t at the table yet. Bucky kept himself busy on his phone. You had a book in your hands but the words hardly made any sense to you. 

“Jeez, tough crowd.” Brock rolls his eyes, “Hey Barnes, I heard your company is looking at Beck’s old joint.” 

“I’m not at liberty to speak to you about my work.” Bucky says without looking up from his phone. 

“Oh come on, he wants to know if he’ll get a good deal. He wants to score a bigger percentage on the next Rumlow Venture.” 

“Ah, my hardworking rich baby.” Sharon gives him an audible smooch, you turn the page of your book. 

“More like hardly working.” You mutter, Bucky coughs to hide his laugh. 

The to be wed couple arrives, slightly dishevelled. 

You share a look with Wanda. She shrugs innocently. 

The lunch progresses without a hitch, the conversation divided between the girls and guys for the excursions. The groups divide, you follow Wanda into the locker area to change into skiing gear. Sharon produces an incredibly al white outfit with faux fur trimming with matching boots. 

Wanda rolls her eyes, “So we have one locker since it is in season and we’re the same party.”

“Ah, yes I have to take these pretty babies off.” Sharon carefully places her rings and bracelets in the locker.

Wanda does the same with her ring. 

Staring down at yours makes a weight press on your chest. Quickly you take it off and put on your gloves. You could cry again, later.

Watching Sharon wobble on the skis almost makes up for enduring her. 

Wanda can’t help but laugh at each time Sharon tries to look in control for the hot instructor — Loki. He had that kind of streak where he’d flirt with everyone. 

Wanda told him it was her bachelorette weekend and he was surprised and then he turned his flirting up a notch more with her. 

There is a tap on your arm as you’re heading towards the locker area. 

“If I may have a moment, Y/N?” Loki smiles as you turn. 

“Oh, Loki, hi did we forget something?” You look down at his empty hands. 

“Would it be bold to say I left my heart with you?” He chuckles, you shake your head but smile. 

“Cheesy lines.” Is your critique. 

“Well, usually we request the guests to warm up with hot chocolate. Care to join me for a mug?” He winks, then the smile softly disappears as he understands your expression. 

“I’m engaged.” You explain, “Though I’m sure you will find something to share that mug with,” 

He shakes off the loss and beams, “You’re too kind, anyone else wouldn’t wish me well after rejecting me. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s lesson.” He calls out as he begins walking backwards to the exit. 

You laugh, turning away and entering the locker room, doffing the equipment one by one. Wanda and Sharon are talking about the dinner plans. 

“We’re thinking of trying the Italian bistro they have, what do you say?” Wanda turns to you. 

“I’m okay with it.” You open the locker and frown, “Hey Wan, did you take my ring out for me?” 

“What? No? I left it inside.” She pads over to see the empty locker. 

The two of you turn to Sharon. 

“What?” She raises her brow.

“Where is my ring Sharon?” You demand, glaring at her. 

“Give it up, this isn’t funny.” Wanda warns her.

“What ring? There was this stupid silver trashy one that I thought wasn’t any of ours and I chucked it out the window.” She shrugs. 

Your heart sinks, “W-what?” You run to the window. 

“Sharon, are you crazy?!” Wanda screams, the blond only raises her hands in defence. 

The snow covers every inch of the back porch of the hotel, how were you supposed to find it?

“How can you be this horrible?” Wanda demands to know. You push away from the window running down the steps and frantically asking the staff to open the sealed doors of the porch. 

“Ma’am you will have to go outside via the front area and head back.” The manager says, his tone sympathetic as your tears bubble over. 

“My ring.” You touch the glass pane and decide to go out.

Treading through the snow to the back porch is difficult, your boots are half laced and the chilling wind whips at your skin, you can’t feel your cheeks. 

The steps of the porch are icy, the layer of snow thick. Kneeling into it your palms dig through where you think the ring could have gone. Each portioned search turns up futile. 

“Please, please, please, please, can’t lose that too, can’t lose his—,” you blubber through sobs. 

“Y/N?” Bucky stands at the end of the steps. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I lost, I lost the ring, I shouldn’t have taken it out, I’m sorry, Bucky.” You look back down to search for something silver gleaming in the yellow light of the lamps shining overhead. 

“I— no it’s, Puffin it's a quarter. My ring’s gone.” You clutch the quarter, shoulders shaking with the crying. 

“Sunshine.” Bucky moves up the stairs carefully holding the railing, “Sunshine, listen to me.” 

He grabs your face between his palms, “That's not the real ring, remember I switched them?” He kneels as well, mouth pressed into a thin line at your state. Why weren’t you wearing any warm clothes? Where were your gloves?

“Bucky.” Wanda calls out, holding up the ring. 

“Y/N look,” he turns your head gently for you to see your best friend holding up the ring. 

“You found my ring!” The way you relax against Bucky makes him want to keep you tucked against him. 

“Sharon wanted to see if it was real, was going to take it to the local jeweller.” Wanda says and then points behind. 

Steve stands near the back doors as the senior manager opens them. Bucky wastes no time in carrying you inside. Straight to the fireplace, settling down in front of it with you. 

“Ri-ring.” You demand, Wanda places it in your hands. You close your fist around it, tucking it close to your chest. 

“I forgot.” You admit to him quietly. His hands haven’t stopped rubbing up and down over your back. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers back, “You were worried, stress does that.”

You say nothing further, allowing yourself to be held by him. Stealing yet another moment that was never meant to be yours to have with him.

“Is she okay?” 

Bucky glares at Sharon, “The fucking audacity of you. Get the fuck away. You and your shitty husband, leave us alone.” He roars. You press yourself against him more. 

“Calm the fuck down I was just asking—,”

“Sharon you’ve done enough fucking damage, just leave. We’re all eating in our own cabins, we’ll meet tomorrow.” Wanda steps in, Brock grabs Sharon’s arm and pulls her away. 

“Buck, there’s a snowstorm warning, we need to get into the cabins.” Steve pats his shoulder. 

Bucky looks down at you, you sniffle still despite the tears being gone. 

“Are you okay to go to the cabin?” He questions, you nod. 

Outside they have SUVs lined up to take people to their cabins even if they are walking distance. Bucky keeps you close through the ride and walks you to the room. 

“I’ll order us dinner okay?” He kneels in front of you while you sit on the bed. 

“Soup please?” You request, he gives you a small smile and moves to the living area. 

Even your warmest PJs feel cold, trembling hands as you open the bathroom door. The bed seems warmer. Settling into the covers you sigh in content but then the shivering starts, fuck. 

“Bucky,” Your voice is barely audible to even you. 

Shaking hard you get out of bed, gripping the walls and the duvet you walk out, the three steps to get into the living area shake in your vision. The dizziness is triggered and you feel yourself violently shake at the cold that seems to be seeped into your chest.

Bucky turns, the phone receiver dropped from his hand as he storms over to you, “Soare!” 

His arms wrap around you in time to break your fall but you don’t respond to his calls, your body feeling too cold in his grasp. 

A.N.: *hides*

a.n.2: also i will be travelling so i won't be on as much so if i will be responding only after about a week or ten days provided i get stable wifi and connection, i love you all thank you for reading and supporting!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

tagging: @slutforsexyseabass@elle14-blog1@sxnshinebxcky@sebsgirl71479@pandaxnienke@stevesmewmew@tfandtws@povlvr@tanyaspartak@maggiejackson3@brodymarx @ladylee76 @buckyinluv @buckymcbuckbarnes @stickyjudgeturtleghost(strikedthrough if unable to be tagged)

[katharinepar]

well, now I will have to ask your opinion 👀

Lol! Okay, I’ll fold. I already talked about this a bit on my Instagram, but beware the 500 year old spoilers ahead! (Also, I’m writing this from my phone as I am still in the hospital so bear with me in terms of typos!)

Here is what I did like: the soundtrack was tolerable (modern, but not terrible); Anne and Henry’s respective actors had palpable chemistry as performers; the filming locations are all visually sumptuous; it’s flush with well-known historians with keen insight into the Tudor court. Tracy Borman, one of the ‘talking heads historians’ and a leading voice in BS&R, is also the author behind Private Lives of the Tudors, a book I continuously go back to in my own research (it isn’t infallible - but it is incredibly detail-oriented and I hold Borman in some esteem for that). I am also one of those people who happens to enjoy dual perspective docuseries - this one, in particular, is split between the actors in all their regalia and the grounding, guiding hands of the historians. The manner of filming was similar to The Boleyns on PBS, except more of an emphasis is placed on the actors in BS&R, and it is certainly a great deal fluffier.

Here’s where you’ll allow me to nitpick, though: there were a few hits within the costuming department, I’ll allow them that. Some of the bodices worked in reflecting the Tudors’ love of tapering, V-shaped waists, and square décolletages adorned with jewels. However, as the show progressed, the hits became fewer and far between - and from the very start, the headdresses were atrocious. There was nothing remotely Tudor about them.

And here is what I loathed:

The driving ideology behind BS&R - especially from Borman’s perspective - encompasses the idea that Anne was ‘not like other girls’ (taken verbatim), an ideology that is both lazy, obsolete and downright frustrating ESPECIALLY considering this program was meant to be from a ‘feminist’s’ point of view. I would pay good money to scrape that phrase from every historian’s lexicon, for the love of God. It is especially tasteless when done in unison with tearing down Catherine of Aragon, Jane Seymour, & Jane Boleyn. Ir seems the only appropriate analysis for a woman like Anne Boleyn is that of comparison to her female contemporaries, in which Anne is always depicted as a woman ahead of her time and her rivals and peers as unthinking, unblinking paperweights. The show also strangely chose to go down the route of depicting Anne as coming from literally nothing - “plucked from obscurity” - which is laughable?? The Boleyns were well-connected and Anne was privileged enough to enjoy an education abroad, so I’m genuinely baffled that the idea Anne was a mangy lil peasant was even mentioned? And oh, yes, didn’t you hear that Anne introduced the idea of charity to the monarchy? 🙄

With this in mind, I also had trouble believing that the powers that be behind BS&R have any concept of ‘feminism’ at all - at least, not the intersectional kind. Anne’s portrayal as a hyper-proto-feminist is a very far take from existent 16th century sources and the contexts of Early Modern England. Anne was not a feminist. We may view her actions as being triumphant through the lens of women’s history, but none of her behaviours suggested she was anything more than influenced by the lofty standards set by medieval queens - such as the distribution of charity, care for the poor, interest in the spread & heartiness of religion, etc. I could understand if the directors sought to paint Anne as an independent woman through her influence of Henry’s state affairs, but we know from primary sources that Henry did not welcome her input - he wanted a quintessential queen, giving birth and sustaining the Tudors image of strength and unity - in the way that he had formerly accepted Catherine’s (at least for a time, particularly in matters of international warfare.)

The prolific use of modern speech also becomes, at times, grating - at others, it makes Anne seem like an idiot. George Boleyn uttering the phrase ‘haters gonna hate’ caused my skin to crawl (despite this I liked the casting for both George and Jane - wish they had been given more of a spotlight). When the academics are using formal speech and the actors are using phrases like ‘bestie’ and ‘screw the Pope’ it’s like… are we designing these characters to seem relatable or just plain stupid?

I also found myself stretching my imagination in order to believe the actress who plays Anne is ‘actually’ Anne Boleyn. She plays Anne as a quirky Bridget Jones type instead of the cool, charismatic, and intriguing firebrand we have come to know. In that vein, I did enjoy certain glimpses of Anne’s more ‘charismatic’ and fun-loving side: these traits are almost always done away with in order to portray Anne as a slick femme fatale, but we know it was to boisterous, convivial courtiers that Henry was most attracted. Showing Anne laughing, having female relationships, and bantering with members of the court from high to low status is perhaps the most ‘revolutionary’ thing BS&R accomplished - it is, in my opinion, one of the better parts of the show.

But what I was really looking forward to in BS&R - considering we were promised a ‘feminist’s’ take on Tudor history - was a fleshy portrayal of Catherine of Aragon. I didn’t dare dream we would have this in Jane Seymour, and indeed, Jane only appears on the sidelines for a single scene. Anyway, I had hoped with names like Borman, Lipscomb, and Emmmerson attached, the show would have opted not to revive Catherine as the dark-haired shrew we were so close to burying. Alas, Catherine was only given two lines - all dripping with jealousy and hatred towards Anne and Henry - before she is erased from the narrative completely. She is only mentioned again when Anne sports flamboyant yellow tulle at her death. But let me tell you, Anne hammers in that neither Catherine nor Henry ever loved each other in every episode - which is just… not true.

If BS&R is what the producers had hoped to be a ‘gateway drug’ into Tudor history, they succeeded; I can understand why casual watchers may enjoy the story of two sex-obsessed, madly in love, desperate to break the mold royals. But for anyone looking for a nuanced, meaty, comprehensive view of Anne Boleyn and the Tudor court, Blood Sex and Royalty is a resounding disappointment. 🥲