#Modern Kitchen Worktops
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Sleek, durable, and heat-resistant—porcelain countertops bring style and strength to any modern kitchen. Easy to clean and available in elegant finishes, they’re a smart choice for everyday living.
#Porcelain Countertops#Modern Kitchen Worktops#Heat Resistant Worktops#Durable Kitchen Surfaces#Porcelain Kitchen Tops#Easy to Clean Countertops#Contemporary Kitchen Design#Porcelain Worktops UK#Stylish Countertops#Kitchen Renovation Ideas
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more quartz worktops for pixel dailies
#my art#pixel art#art#artists on tumblr#pixel illustration#pixel graphics#pixel aesthetic#aseprite#artwork#isometric#pixelart#pixel artist#quartz#quartz countertops#quartz worktops#quartz kitchen countertops#kitchen#kitchens#modern kitchens#interior
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A modern kitchen design that highlights the use of green marble.
#marble countertops#marble worktops#marble#green marble#green moodboard#green#wood#kitchen design#kitchen decor#kitchen countertops#kitchen cabinets#modern kitchen#toya's tales#style#toyastales#toyas tales#home decor#interior design#kitchen interior design#kitchen inspiration#kitchen ideas#october#fall#dream kitchen#interiors#interior decorating#home improvement#welcome home#home design
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Basin Buying Guide – Find the Perfect Style for Your Bathroom
When redesigning or upgrading your bathroom, choosing the right basin is key to both functionality and style. From compact spaces to luxury en-suites, there’s a basin for every layout and lifestyle. In this guide, we’ll explore all the popular basin styles, bathroom furniture combinations, and basin accessories you’ll need to make the perfect choice for your home.

Types of Basins
Semi Recessed Basins
Ideal for combining with furniture, semi recessed basins offer a sleek profile and are partially embedded into a worktop or vanity unit. Perfect for modern family bathrooms.
Wall Hung Basins
Wall hung basins create the illusion of space and offer a minimalist look. They're ideal for small bathrooms or cloakrooms and allow for easy floor cleaning.
Countertop Basins
For a spa-like feel, choose a countertop basin. These sit atop vanity units or worktops and come in a variety of shapes and materials, making them a designer favourite.
Vanity Basins
Vanity basins are integrated into bathroom furniture, offering storage and a tidy appearance—perfect for busy households that need both style and practicality.
Corner Basins
Make use of every inch in small or awkwardly shaped bathrooms with corner basins. These space-saving solutions tuck neatly into corners without compromising usability.
Basins with Washstands
Bring timeless charm to your bathroom with basins with washstands. Often inspired by traditional designs, they work beautifully in vintage or classic bathroom interiors.

Under Counter Basins
Sleek and understated, under counter basins fit seamlessly beneath a worktop, offering a clean look and making countertop space easy to clean.
Double Basins
Ideal for busy shared bathrooms, double basins provide dual washing areas for added convenience without sacrificing style.
Freestanding Basins
Statement-making and stylish, freestanding basins work wonderfully in modern and high-end bathrooms, offering a sculptural and luxurious touch.
Other Basin Options
Kitchen Sinks
Not just for the bathroom—kitchen sinks are just as important for style and functionality. Discover durable and elegant options that match your kitchen’s theme.
Pedestal Basins
For classic styling, full pedestal basins are a go-to. They conceal pipework and offer a clean, timeless appearance.
Semi Pedestal Basins
Semi pedestal basins mount to the wall and offer a neat compromise between wall-hung and full pedestal styles—perfect for a tidy, contemporary bathroom look.

Basin Furniture Combinations
Basins with Vanity Units
Combining storage and style, basins with vanity units help maximise functionality without sacrificing aesthetics.
Floor Standing Vanity Units
Add sturdy storage and traditional charm with floor standing vanity units—ideal for larger bathrooms or where extra storage is needed.
Wall Hung Vanity Units
Wall hung vanity units keep things sleek and off the ground, making smaller bathrooms feel more spacious while providing ample hidden storage.
Combination Bathroom Furniture
Maximise space and convenience with combination bathroom furniture, featuring built-in basins, storage, and even WC units in one seamless piece.
Must-Have Basin Accessories
Every basin setup needs the right finishing touches. Make sure you include:
Basin Accessories
Bottle Traps
Basin Frames
Basin Wastes
Worktops
These components ensure your basin is installed correctly, functions efficiently, and suits your personal taste.
Final Thoughts

Choosing the right basin goes beyond just style—it’s about creating a cohesive bathroom environment that suits your lifestyle. Whether you want a minimalist wall hung basin or a luxurious freestanding basin, you’ll find the best range at Best Quality Bathrooms. With a wide selection of sizes, shapes, and finishes, finding the ideal bathroom basin has never been easier.
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Enhance your London kitchen with our stunning quartz countertops, perfectly blending style and durability. At DialAWorkTop, we deliver exceptional quality, dependable service, and competitive pricing. Browse our collection today to discover the finest quartz countertops at budget-friendly prices in London, UK.
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The Versatility of Natural Stone: Transforming Interiors with Karst Galleria.
Natural stone has long been celebrated for its beauty and durability, making it a popular choice in interior design. At Karst Galleria, we understand the transformative power of natural stone in elevating spaces and creating stunning environments. Here’s how natural stone can be used to enhance your interiors, showcasing its versatility and timeless appeal.
1. Diverse Applications
Natural stone can be used in a variety of applications throughout the home. From elegant countertops and luxurious flooring to stunning wall cladding and unique statement pieces, the possibilities are endless. Whether you’re renovating your kitchen, bathroom, or living area, natural stone can adapt to any design concept, enhancing both aesthetics and functionality.
2. Endless Variety
Natural stone comes in an array of colors, textures, and patterns. At Karst Galleria, our extensive collection includes marble, granite, limestone, and slate, each offering unique visual qualities. This variety allows homeowners and designers to choose the perfect stone that complements their individual style, whether it's a sleek modern look or a rustic charm.
3. Timeless Elegance
One of the most appealing aspects of natural stone is its timeless elegance. It adds a sense of luxury and sophistication to any space. Marble, for instance, is synonymous with opulence and can be used for everything from countertops to feature walls. Its natural veining and rich colors bring depth and character to interiors, ensuring that spaces feel both inviting and stylish.
4. Sustainability
Natural stone is an eco-friendly option for interior design. Additionally, stone can last for decades, reducing the need for replacements and minimizing waste. At Karst Galleria, we are committed to sustainable practices, sourcing our materials responsibly and ensuring that our production processes are environmentally friendly.
5. Functional Durability
It can withstand heavy foot traffic, resist heat and moisture, and is easy to maintain. This makes it an ideal choice for high-use areas such as kitchens and bathrooms. With proper care, natural stone surfaces retain their beauty and functionality for years, making them a wise investment for any home.
6. Unique Customization
At Karst Galleria, we offer custom design services that allow you to tailor your stone solutions to your specific needs. Whether you’re looking for unique tile layouts, custom countertops, or personalized stone features, our expert team can help bring your vision to life. This level of customization ensures that your space reflects your personal style and enhances the overall aesthetic of your home.
7. Creating Focal Points
Natural stone can be used to create stunning focal points within any room. A statement fireplace, a dramatic accent wall, or a beautifully crafted kitchen island can draw the eye and serve as a conversation starter. With the variety of textures and colors available at Karst Galleria, you can design striking elements that elevate your interior spaces.
Conclusion
The versatility of natural stone makes it a powerful tool for transforming interiors. With its endless applications, unique aesthetic qualities, and functional benefits, natural stone is an ideal choice for any design project. At Karst Galleria, we are dedicated to helping you explore the many possibilities of natural stone, creating beautiful and enduring spaces that reflect your style and meet your needs. Embrace the timeless elegance of natural stone and let us help you transform your interiors into a masterpiece!
#interior decorating#interior design#marble statue#marble hornets#floor tiles#home design#interiors#home decor#home renovation#interiordesign#furniture design#flooring#furniture#fashion#stained glass#granite#granite worktops#sophisticatedliving#marble sculpture#stonework#modern architecture#luxury aesthetic#kitchen cabinets#kitchen#interior#luxury beauty#bathroom tiles#vitrified tiles#tile#tiles
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Modern Kitchen | Kitchen Worktops installations in London | DialAWorkTop...
DialAWorkTop is one of the best suppliers and installers of Quartz Kitchen Worktops in London, we offer the best kitchen quartz countertops at affordable prices. Are you looking for the perfect kitchen worktops in London for your home? DialAWorkTop is the Right Choice for your Kitchen Space. we also cover Essex, Hampshire, Oxfordshire, and Hertfordshire locations.
https://www.dialaworktop.co.uk/quartz-worktops-in-london/
#kitchen#kitchen worktops#home#interiors#quartz countertops#london#kitchen design#city#decor#modern kitchen
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Essex Kitchen

Inspiration for a mid-sized, transitional, l-shaped, enclosed kitchen remodel with travertine flooring, an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, wood countertops, ceramic backsplash, multicolored accents, black appliances, and an island.
#classic contemporary kitchen#modern rustic living#white and wood kitchen#bespoke kitchen#kitchen#wooden worktop#plate rack
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Friends & Family
Friends + Masterpost
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU
Summary: Anthony has a very important question to ask, but the universe appears to be conspiring against him. Threequel. Set a year after the first fic in this series
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Public sexual acts, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, woman on top, back-to-back orgasm. Also, on a non-sexual front, all sorts of emotions and thwarted proposals.
Word Count: 5.4k
Authors Note: This is VERY, VERY belated request fill for the divine @colettebronte. She has had the patience of a saint as I have grappled with this request for many months. I hope this is worth the wait, but to be honest, after this delay, I'm not sure anything could be. Thank you to @sorryallonsy for betaing. Please enjoy <3
I
“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??”
There is an undignified yelp, and a spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.
“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full-name business all about?” he exclaims, spinning around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears.
You have walked in from afternoon coffee with old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots, pats on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the complete wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface that is left unused or covered in some sticky-looking residue from god knows what.
“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out; I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation.
Frankly, it’s a mystery why he offered to make dinner in the first place; you have never seen the man so much as boil an egg in all the years you have known him. And certainly not in the twelve months you have loved him. His idea of cooking is usually stopping at Whole Foods to pick up a hot rotisserie chicken.
He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression, his perennial get-out-of-jail-free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.
“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile toying with the corners of his mouth, seeking forgiveness. You let him pull you into his arms and kiss your cheek. “Do you still love me?” he teases, pulling back to shoot you that perfect-toothed charming grin.
“I’ll love you even more if you tidy all this up,” you counter, raising an eyebrow as he chuckles. “Although I’m intrigued. You have never once made dinner since we’ve been dating; why now?”
“Well, I wanted to do something special…” he says pointedly, pulling away to switch off the hob when there is a slight burning smell in the air.
“What’s so special about today?” You frown.
“Really?” He spins around to look at you, a slight pout as you wrack your brains. “What happened on this date one year ago?”
Ohhh…
You feel bad you had completely not realised it. Exactly one year ago to this day, you got together after many years of combative flirting. Heart melting in your ribcage as you suddenly realise this is him attempting to cook an anniversary dinner for you.
“You secret romantic, you,” you murmur, contrition and affection burning inside as you can't help but seek his touch.
“Don’t let anyone know,” he jests as he pulls you into his arms again and kisses your temple. “I have a reputation to uphold….”
“Of course…” you giggle, resting your head on his shoulders as you sway together in the bombsite that was your kitchen. “And here was me thinking you would do something far more risqué…”
“Such as..?” he prompts, intrigued by where your thoughts have gone.
“Oh, I don't know….” you run your fingers into his lush hair, pressing into him. “Maybe take me back to that same penthouse your friend owns. Maybe make it to that overpriced sofa this time…” his eyes flash dark and dangerous, licking his lips, and you feel compelled to continue, “Maybe even that enormous bed. And the balcony….”
He groans gently as his mind no doubt fills with the same images as yours. “Fuckkkkkkk….” he rues, “I should have done that. I’m definitely no Gordon Ramsey….”
You laugh and run your hands up his biceps. “Maybe not. But I do have a suggestion…” you offer, dropping your voice a little smokier.
“Tell me…” Anthony rumbles, nudging your cheek until your lips brush, fingers digging into your flesh where he holds you.
“Let's work up an appetite and then order from our usual. Tidying up can wait…” you whisper, mouth ghosting over his, fingers opening the top button of his shirt and toying with the patch of chest hair.
“You’re fucking perfect.”
You squeal gently as he picks you up and strides towards your bedroom. The little navy velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket can wait for another day. Perhaps.
—
II
During a boring editorial meeting the following morning, your phone buzzes in your lap.
AB: Can you be at mine at 7pm tonight?
Y/N: Yes… but why?
AB: All will be revealed 😉
AB: Come hungry for delicious protein
Y/N: Filthy. I like it. 😉😛
AB: OMG NO! Not THAT. Bloody hell…
Y/N: Shame…
AB: Well, okay, maybe a bit of that. Afterwards. 😉
Y/N: *victory dance* 💃
AB: I love you, you filthy animal 😛😘
—
You walk into Anthony’s kitchen at precisely 7pm that evening to find some very posh-looking man in a bowtie pouring some wine into the good glasses. The ones you are too scared to use.
“What is all this?” Your curiosity piqued.
“Cooking was a disaster, so this is recompense,” Anthony greets you with a hug and a brief kiss on the lips.
He looks handsome in his usual crisp shirt, undone just enough at the chest to be distracting, and custom-tailored trousers that cling to him just right. It takes some effort to tear your eyes away from him, but when you do, you now see a smorgasbord of cheese on his expansive, pristine white marble kitchen island, with fruit, crackers and all manner of chutneys.
“Oooh, lovely. Fancy cheese and wine night?” you guess.
“Indeed,” he replies warmly. “Baxter here is a world-renowned expert on such things. He will be taking us on a cheese world tour paired with the very best wines.”
“Sounds lovely. Thank you,” you nod to the man, then crowd into Anthony again. “The anniversary of our first proper date?” you guess, kissing his jaw, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble there.
“The lady is learning…” he ribs genially, taking your hand and pulling you along to take a seat on one of the stools.
Baxter speaks engagingly and knowledgeable, and admittedly, every cheese and wine pairing is exquisite. Just a bite from each, but after 10 countries, you are a little tipsy, leaning into Anthony and shooting him goofy smiles, resting your chin on his shoulder, cheekily grabbing his thigh where the fabric pulls taut right over his quad muscle so temptingly. You want to climb into his lap and wrap around him.
After an hour, the man politely takes his leave, mentioning he has left some more “adventurous” choices in sealed boxes in the fridge.
“What does adventurous cheese mean?” you tipsily ponder after the man has left. “Do you think it's abseiled down a mountain?”
Anthony laughs accommodatingly at your goofiness, taking your hand and leading you outside onto the balcony. “I assume strong-flavoured maybe. But I’m quite sure it's all bravado,” he assures.
You lean on the railing, looking down upon the Thames below, all of London seeming reflected in its inky depths, a thousand lights twinkling in its choppy waves, like a sea of stars beneath you.
“I could never tire of this view,” you declare wistfully, a warmth behind your ribs as he crowds into your back, placing a light blanket around your shoulders.
“It is yours to enjoy for as long as it is mine,” he breathes into your hair, kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist.
You sway together gently in the breeze, your hands over his, pushing back into his warm body.
“I love you,” you say quietly, turning to nuzzle his cheek.
“I love you too,” he responds immediately, “and I have for so long now; it feels wrong when you are not with me,” his tone ardent, gentle. “Wait here….” he whispers, a waver in his voice that makes you pause.
You wait patiently as he slips back inside, the breeze dancing through your hair as you inhale deeply and soak in the city. Although you are high above street level, the sounds are still there, like a background hum. It’s as energising as the country air at his rural ancestral home in Kent, just in a different way—so vibrant and teeming with life.
Anthony seems to be gone for a while, so out of intrigue, you wander inside to the fridge, grab one of the containers Baxter left and take it back onto the balcony before he reappears. When you peel it open, you are taken aback by the smell. It's very pungent, even out in the open air.
“There is an important question I wa…” Anthony freezes mid-sentence. “Dear god, what is that smell?” he exclaims, his face scrunching violently.
“Oh, I think it's the cheese Baxter left.”
You swing the container around so it's right under his nose and watch him go white as a sheet and then double over to one side, dry heaving.
“That's disgusting!” He gags, quickly putting something small from his hand into his trouser pocket as he coughs roughly, almost bent double.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” you frown, bringing the container back to your own nose, closer than you had it before.
Then, a wave of nausea hits you, too. It smells of decay and bad feet and turns your stomach so violently that you have to grab the balcony railing to stop yourself from stumbling.
“Fuck that's terrible,” you stutter, trying hard to keep down the rich wines and cheeses you have already consumed.
“Throw it!” Anthony blurts, somewhat frantic.
“Where?” you panic, holding it away at arm's length, desperate to stay upwind of it.
“Off the fucking balcony! Fling it in the Thames! I can't even have that shit in my bins….” he yelps before another wretch doubles him over again.
Gripping the container, you fling the contents as hard as you can, watching the blob of cheese sail downwards in an arc for twelve storeys, hitting the river below with a distant but satisfying plop. You both stand there wheezing and gasping as you reseal the container immediately, fearful of any residual scent.
“Dear god, am I going to inadvertently ruin every one of these special evenings?” he grumbles under his breath, sounding more like a rhetorical question than anything.
You have no idea what he could mean, but you don’t have the capacity to ask - you have to run to the cloakroom as the mere olfactory flashback makes you nauseated.
When you reemerge ten minutes later, full of regret and needing toothpaste, you find him in his en suite bathroom in a similar fragile state. You both crawl into his bed feeling delicate, curling up foetal and holding hands across the expanse of the bed, him muttering apologies.
—
III
The following week, Anthony takes you back to the same restaurant where you had your second date, one year to the day later. Seeing the pattern in advance, you wear the beautiful little black dress he bought you recently. And you are pleased to make him temporarily tongue-tied when you slip off your coat to reveal it, whispering coquettishly in his ear that you are happy to skip dinner and return to his.
“Oh, we will,” he rumbles, a promissory note that lights a fire low in your belly.
After perusing the menu, you decide to order the same dish you had last time. You are certain everything is terrific, but you remember it being so delicious it had you making noises only Anthony usually can. Also, you are hoping for a complete repeat of the same night from a year ago. Memorably, it was the first time he managed to give you three orgasms in one night—you are very keen to repeat that.
But rather strangely, Anthony’s energy seems slightly off, almost nervous. You can only assume it's apprehension that this night does not go as the previous two attempts at anniversary celebrations have.
While you are sharing a delicious starter, a familiar face over the room at the bar catches your eye.
“Is that Benedict?” you frown, causing Anthony to twist in your booth and look.
“Probably,” he sighs.
You are nonplussed by his reaction, so you take it upon yourself to wave to him, to Anthony’s seeming chagrin.
When Benedict wanders over, you notice his shoulders are hunched, a shuffled gait. Not the usual mister sunshine he is.
“Hey Ben, everything okay?” you check as he pulls up nearby, hovering a little.
“I got dumped,” he exhales. “So I’m drowning my sorrows,” he explains, holding his whiskey tumbler aloft in a rueful toast.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grimace, knowing he has been more unlucky in love than not, which seems a shame; he’s a sweet, good-looking man but often gets used, attracted to people who take advantage of his giving nature.
“Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…” he placates modestly, glancing at his older brother, who seems to be brooding.
“Don't be silly, you can join us,” you beckon him into the booth.
“No, he can’t,” Anthony interjects.
You frown at him. “Why not? It’s just dinner,” you dispute.
“No, it’s not; it’s our anniversary,” Anthony argues before turning to Benedict. “Brother, I love you and all, but would you kindly fuck off?” Anthony grouses, gritting his teeth.
“Anthony!” You admonish. “Don’t be a dick!” You roll your eyes. “Ignore your grouchy brother, Ben; of course, you can join us,” you offer again, seeing the hesitancy but also the sadness tugging at the corner of his eyes that means you are worried about leaving him alone.
He acquiesces, and as he wanders across to the bar to grab his jacket and join you, you scowl at Anthony. “He’s just been dumped. You could be nicer,”
“I could… just not tonight,” he says, almost harangued.
You decide not to dwell on why he seems unduly hung up on this evening’s plans, being so particular, watching him seem to fiddle with an item in his jacket pocket, then look askance across the restaurant, defeated.
“Anthony, are you okay?” You check quietly as Benedict walks back over.
“Yeah, I just….” He sighs and finally meets your eye squarely with a tinge of sadness. “I had other plans for us tonight. Not babysitting…”
At one point during the main course, Benedict excuses himself to the bathroom. Anthony has been mostly monosyllabic, almost sulking, and you feel guilty; perhaps he did indeed have other ideas for the evening.
You shuffle around to lean into him and grab his hand, placing it high on your thigh under the table, the message unmistakable.
“We can still have our plans for later…” you whisper hotly into his ear.
He seems to perk up immediately, his hand grasping your flesh in a way that catches your breath. “You always know what to say to make me feel better…” he murmurs, at once playful and reverent.
“Touch me…” you whisper, the need for him an instant, tart taste in your mouth.
“Here, in the restaurant? With my brother coming back to join us any moment?” His tone is incredulous but unmistakably aroused.
“Yes…” you hiss, pushing his hand up higher to the junction of your thighs where you burn molten for him always.
He growls when he realises you have made another style choice, this one scandalous—no underwear.
“I’ll do more than that, you wonderful minx,” he huffs, pulling your thigh over his lap under the tablecloth. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy and presses his thumb over your clit. You gasp and grip the table hard, just as Benedict reappears.
It certainly does wonders for Anthony’s disposition, like he is a different man now. Chatting amiably to his brother as you subtly try not to look flustered, dripping silently into his palm as he holds still.
“Whatever you did to put this one in a better mood, thank you,” Benedict jests at one point.
“I just had to give the old grouch a hug and his favourite toy to keep him entertained,” you joke back, him not realising exactly how true that is. Anthony’s fingers flex deep inside you at your cheeky riposte, and you can feel his smirk as you have to cough to hide your moan.
“Well, thank you,” Benedict smiles, “you bring things out in my brother I never thought I would see. So whatever magic trick you are pulling, keep doing it.”
Anthony’s fingers curl hard against your g spot, and you have to laugh loudly to not scream.
“She’s the very best brother,” Anthony replies, lips brushing your temple as he flicks his thumb teasingly over your clit. “I hope one day you find someone as special as she is,” he offers, his first sympathetic noise to his brother of the evening.
“I should be so lucky,” Benedict adds quietly, tone pensive, glancing at his phone as it lights up by his elbow.
Anthony withdraws from your pussy; you whimper mutely, feeling bereft but also relieved, not sure you can act any longer. You watch as he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks them decadently as Benedict is distracted by his phone.
“Thank you for dessert, my love,” he thrums into your ear, “and the show,” he adds cheekily, your clit and pussy clenching, denied, so very aroused.
“Take me home right now, Anthony!” Your order is through gritted teeth, quiet but brokering no argument.
And he does.
—
IV
A tide of relief hits you as the door to his sleek penthouse clicks softly open; tossing aside your umbrella and slipping off your shoes in the fancy hallway. It's been a taxing work day; all you can think about is climbing into the shower, then curling up and watching something mindless until Anthony gets home.
“Y/n…”
An enticing but distant call in that familiar voice.
“Anthony?” you respond, puzzled. “I thought you would be out late tonight?” you add, wandering forward, trying to find the source.
“Change of plan….”
You cross the open-plan lounge area with its floor-to-ceiling view across the rooftops of London. It's been more than a year of dating, and still, you aren't entirely used to the sheer scale of his place compared to yours. It feels like it takes ages to get across just his living room.
“Where are you?” you frown, hands on hips. It sounds like he's likely in the bedroom.
“Follow the sound of my voice,” he entices, and yep, it's definitely from that direction.
However, when you wander in, the room is empty, the early evening sun blazing onto the soft, luxurious white duvet on his vast bed.
“Getting warmer,” he offers, quieter now, and you recognise his voice has an echo. He can only be in his en-suite bathroom.
You round the corner into that tastefully masculine room - all slate and birch - to be greeted by a sight that makes your lungs feel too tight.
There, in his sizeable sunken whirlpool tub, is one Anthony Bridgerton. Very naked and very wet. Standing so that the bubbling waterline hugs his hips—acres of toned torso, water droplets meandering down the washboard of his stomach and glistening in the thatch of hair across his chest. You bite your lips without even realising it, shifting your stance as you feel a ripple of excitement over your skin.
“Hello, Ms y/l/n,” he preens, knowing exactly how much the sight before you makes you tongue-tied and aroused.
“Hello…” you stutter back, eyes still feasting. “What is the CEO of Bridgerton Enterprises doing taking a bath at….” you glance down to check your watch, “... 5:25 pm on a Thursday?”
“It's a special occasion…” he smirks, wading towards the edge of the tub closest to you. “I thought a bath would be nice.”
You can't seem to look away from the wake of waves cresting his Adonis belt as he does so. The sight of something delicious just below the surface is almost hypnotic.
“My eyes are up here, you know,” he mocks gently, tongue literally in cheek, as you cut your gaze to his triumphant face.
“Wh… what special occasion?” you manage to stumble out.
“Surely you recall what happened on this night exactly twelve months ago?”
When you look nonplussed - frankly, you can barely remember your own name right now - he mock sighs.
“I surprised you on my way back from the airport?” he prompts.
“Oh!” you suddenly cotton on, “it's been a year since we exchanged keys!”
He nods, and a fetching beam breaks out across his face. “Ahhh, the lady remembereth,” he winks.
“So this is how you’re celebrating?” your eyes again drag covetously down his body.
“No, this is how WE are celebrating…” he corrects and gestures towards a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket at one corner of the tub, along with two long-stemmed flutes.
You can't help but match his grin now. “Well, I can’t find fault with that idea,” you admit, taking a step closer until you are at the edge of the tub surround.
“Hmm, I thought not,” he says silkily, closing the gap between you.
Grabbing the back of your neck with a firm hand, he draws you down into a deep, sensual kiss. His mouth claims yours. You shiver as warm water trickles down inside your top from the hand in your hair. He crowds into you, soaking your clothing with the press of his body as you kneel on the sunken tub surround.
“Oh no, this is all wet,” he feigns, tugging lightly at your sleeve, “you will just have to take it off.”
“Hmmm. I rather think that is your doing. How about you take it off?” you challenge, the banter between you never seeming to get old.
“Maybe I’ll just pull you into the water fully clothed?” he posits, raising an eyebrow.
You laugh and take a step back, revelling in his undivided attention as you strip for him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression hungry; the only sounds are his panted breath and the bubbles roiling in the tub. You are down to your underwear, a new matching lacy set, as if you knew, on some subconscious level, it was a special occasion, when he lunges forward and makes you squeal as he effortlessly picks you up and hauls you into the huge tub with him. The warm, effervescent water is a balm and tonic, making your skin tingle.
“What is the point of celebrating anything if it’s not an excuse to get naked?” he offers silkily, cupping your jaw with both palms, his wet thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones, then his lips are back, plundering, seeking, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands roam your skin, arranging so you are straddling his lap, his cock a solid press against your inner thigh.
This is indeed how you always want to celebrate every milestone of your relationship—with wonderful, sensual intimacy. Anthony pulls back from the kiss, and you stare into his rich eyes, blissfully tracing the lines of his face with fingertips as he easily unhooks your bra and pulls it gently over the rounds of your shoulders. This close-up and soaked, his face is all sharp contours and smooth, lightly tanned skin.
“You are too handsome,” your internal monologue spilling out with a light mewl as his thumbs brush your nipples.
“I love you too,” he chuckles drolly to make a point.
“Oh yes, that too,” you append with a playful pout. Then, a more sincere “I love you.”
“Wonderful to hear,” he rumbles into your ear as his hands slide underwater to tug down your underwear.
He pulls you deeper into his lap, your thighs pushed wide around his slender hips. His rigid cock nudges your slit promisingly, and you wait with bated breath for his much-wanted invasion. But he pauses, and you feel the curl of his smile against your cheekbone.
“Champagne?” he teases, holding still.
“Now?!” you splutter. “How about you get inside me first?”
“I thought you'd never ask,” he answers, wry and laconic.
Any witty riposte you may have dies on your lips as he surges into your body, knowing you need no warm-up, ready for him the minute you rounded the corner of the room.
“Happy key day,” he murmurs as your eyes flutter closed and you moan loudly, him nudging that spot that makes you so addicted to him.
“Happy key day,” your response is a ragged exhale as you adjust to his deep invasion.
Every time it still feels like the first, like it's just too good, and you just want to cling to him and be fucked into oblivion or fuck him into oblivion. A potent, heavy feeling inside that makes you crackle with energy and feel sated at the same time.
“Fuck me, Anthony,” you sigh into his wet hair, pushing closer into his embrace, voicing your exact desires.
“With pleasure.”
You squeak as his hands grasp tight around your waist and haul you up until just his tip is still inside you, then slams you back down, a curse falling from your lips as he does. His handling is slightly rough in a way that feels perfect, his teeth glancing your earlobe before he sucks it into his mouth and bites lightly.
Then it's a wondrous carnal dance, your joint noises echoing up the slate tiles as you fuck wantonly. Taking over at one point and gripping the edge of the oversized tub, you ride him for all your worth, chasing that feeling only he, his cock, has ever given you. So addictive ever since that very first night.
“I only ever want to fuck you, always…” the words tumbling from your lips unbidden, no filter between your thoughts and mouth as you spiral higher.
Even in the full throes of passion, his expression softens as you confess it.
“Forever?” something vulnerable in his panted tone as you rise and fall upon him.
“Forever, Anthony Bridgerton,” you vow, sensing his need to hear it, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing all of your being into him, wanting your bodies to be forged together somehow.
His thumb slips between your legs, and you cry out as he snags your clit perfectly, eyes rolling, feeling like a live wire.
“I need to feel it; please give it to me,” he implores desperately, thumb flicking almost violently over your engorged pearl.
It doesn't take much more, and you are fracturing around him. Crying his name, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders as you reach that high, unable to stop slamming upon him as you flutter, your whole body spasming in pleasure but unwilling to stop. Him roaring his approval as you squeeze his cock tight, rippling around him.
“Please don't come,” you plead to him, “I need more, Anthony, more,” a wrecked sob, wanting to orgasm again. He snarls, his teeth on your cheekbone, his grip tightening around your hips, staving off his orgasm as best he can.
You grab his face and babble nonsense, saying you need his cock forever, strung out on the edge, almost a mania in your being, needing everything he can give. He pants harshly into your open-mouthed, sloppy kisses as you keep riding wound so tight like a coiled spring, wanting to be speared open by him always.
“Marry me!” he cries as you both reach that peak together, an explosion in both of your beings, feeling him come inside you harsh and deep, moaning your name like a prayer.
You collapse upon him, the bubbles of the jetted tub tickle your skin as you heave breaths, wracked and sated to your very core. A high like you have never known.
“Did you just…. propose?” you stutter as your brain comes back online, his cock still buried inside you.
“Shit…” he laments. “That was NOT how it was supposed to go! I had it all planned out!” he decries, burying his face into your shoulder where you still sit upon him.
“Anthony….” there are no other words, shock tying your tongue.
He pulls back and looks contrite. “Please allow me a do-over?” his face so beseeching.
Raw emotion and victory crest hard in your veins, and you can't help but banter with him - as you always have, as you always will, until death do you part now.
“No, Viscount Bridgerton,” you rag, holding his face, “No do-overs. You will just have to live with the fact you proposed to me as we came together….”
His face is a jumble of warring emotions as you realise you have kept him on tenterhooks about your answer.
“…And you will just have to accept that I said yes with you still inside me,” you add silkily.
A handsome grin claims his whole face, relief and devotion coursing through him. “We can’t tell anyone,” he whispers as you resurface from another kiss.
“Our little secret,” you smile back as he finally slips from your body.
—
“You know I might be the first-ever Viscountess with a garden flat in Zone 3,” you chuckle, sitting in matching fluffy robes on his balcony, the sky a riot of colour as the sun sets.
A few minutes before, he had gotten down on one knee and produced a little velvet box. You squealed and said yes again, watching transfixed as he pushed a flawless, elegant three-carat diamond onto your finger.
Anthony frowns deeply. “Err, no. You are moving in here with me,” he asserts loftily.
“I’m not selling my place!”
“You can rent it out!” he waves dismissively.
“Urgh, tenants. Hassle.” You roll your eyes.
“Okay, fine, then we can just use it to store all of my stuff you hate, alright?” he counters, catching your gaze with a fiery challenge. Your insides ablaze that your trademark flirtatious antagonism will always be there, even once you are married.
“Oh, Viscount Bridgerton, you have a deal…” you whisper coquettish and swing off of your lounger onto his, straddling him and sealing the pact with a kiss.
“I’m just so glad I could finally make it happen.”
You flip around and settle between his legs, your spine on his chest, lacing your hands together over your robe. “What do you mean?”
He barks a laugh you feel echo into your back. “So this is not the first time I have tried to propose to you. Remember that disastrous cooking? Attempt 1. Cheese night when we almost died? Attempt 2. Benedict interruptus? Attempt 3.” He holds up a hand before you, counting each on his fingers. “I almost gave up.”
You laugh and realise with hindsight how he seemed off kilter on those occasions, a soft ache behind your ribs in empathy. “I’m so glad you didn’t. Give up, that is,” you murmur, running your fingers over his lovingly once he lowers his hand back to your belly.
“I jest; I would never give up trying to make you my wife,” he pledges solemnly into your hair, kissing the shell of your ear. “And I hope you will never give up on me, as terrible of a husband as I will likely be….” he demures.
“I can do that, old friend…” you tease, a callback to that first night you got together.
“Less of the old,” he chides, immediately picking up your invitation, an exact repeat of your words to each other that first night you got together, heart melting as you realise he remembers the conversation word for word, too.
“I've known you my whole life, Anthony,” you continue, that conversation etched into your brain, turning back over in his arms. “You can't lie to me…”
“I never will,” he goes offscript, and you exchange laden looks. Then, a dangerous smirk takes over his face as he leans closer. “But you can handcuff me to our bed anytime,” he adds, a nod to the joke you made that night.
“You wish, you lucky fuck,” you respond, aping his line.
He grins widely and pulls back, handing you a champagne flute from the nearby lounger table.
“From old friends to new family…” he toasts, sincere and ardent, clinking his glass softly against yours.
“Friends and family…” you smile, your diamond ring afire in the setting sun, as you take a sip and pull him in for a blistering kiss.
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Kitchen Worktops in 2025: Quartz or Granite?
Make the most of your space with granite kitchen worktops, now available through Avamco Ltd’s exclusive offer. Combining long-lasting quality and modern appeal, this durable surface adds value and character to any kitchen. Read the full blog to see if granite is right for your home and get inspired today.
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Vee is For Vampires - Chapter 6: Foreverlost
Author: @sinnysioux
AO3: SinnySioux
Vamp!Ville x f!reader
Warnings: Definite smut. 18+
Read on AO3
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I wake up at noon and hiss at the sunlight threatening me from the side of Ville’s velvet curtains. My head is pounding; I can’t be hungover after three cocktails, surely? I ponder last night’s inebriation and realise I haven’t eaten properly for days. Ville doesn’t eat and I have really been neglecting myself. I get out of bed, looking for something to wear, and realise I left my bag of clothes in my car.
“Ugh, I do not wanna do the walk of shame again!” I moan aloud to myself. Elias must think I’m such a skank. I glance at the mirrored black wardrobe at the end of the room. I’m sure Ville won’t mind if I borrow a shirt. The wardrobe has jackets and dress shirts and trousers hanging up. There are some drawers below and I tentatively open the top one. Underwear. I think about Ville finding me in his underwear and wonder if he’ll find it sexy. I steal a pair of his boxers and slide them on. They’re black, of course. I open the next drawer and find t-shirts. “Perfect!” I murmur as I unfold the first one I find. It’s an old Black Sabbath shirt, circa the time where Ozzy was accused of biting a bat I assume, and pull it on over my head. It’s oversized and baggy; perfect boyfriend fit. I look at myself in his mirrors and smile. He might be a vampire but, aside from our nocturnal dates, it feels like a fairly normal relationship… as normal as an all-consuming, incredibly sexual, relationship can be.
I wander downstairs, hoping Ville has snacks to silence my growling stomach. I stand alone in the hall, suddenly feeling very small in Ville’s large home. Where is his kitchen? Does he have a kitchen? Fuck. I wander into what appears to be a large living room. There are shelves of books, a liquor cabinet, and a grand piano in the corner.
Dusting the piano is Mari, who looks up and greets me with a smile. “Good morning, dear. Sleep well?” She asks politely.
“Uh, yeah, kind of. I’m just wondering… does Ville have a kitchen? I keep forgetting to eat.” Mari scolds me for not looking after myself and leads me through a dining room. The tall walls are covered in paintings. They are dark paintings. One is of a woman serving a bleeding heart on a tray. It has an Edgar Allen Poe feel. I am rushed through to the kitchen. It’s surprisingly modern, unlike every other room in The Haunted Mansion, which I now decide to call it. The floor is laminate light oak. The worktops are a grey marble granite, with a matching island in the middle. Mari ushers me to perch on a stool at the island as she runs around rummaging in cupboards. She refuses any help and whips me up an omelette, toast and a pot of tea. She truly is an angel. She loves cooking and says she will cook more things and leave meals in the fridge for me, though I try to tell her I am happy to cook for myself. Whilst she is putting things away I notice multiple bottles in the fridge. Red bottles. Blood. I shake away the unease and finish my warm tea. Suddenly I have a stroke of genius. Maybe Ville and I can make use of the dining room. Maybe I could cook for him using the blood in his fridge? My mind goes into overdrive thinking about all of the “normal” things we can achieve in our vampire-girlfriend relationship.
I realise I am still in last night’s makeup and could really use a hot shower. I’ve stayed the night a few times now, but I barely even know where the bathroom is. Mari offers to give me a tour and I gladly and desperately accept. She leads me back through the dining room, in what I am told is the East Wing, and into the hall. She leads me into the West Wing, through some sort of entertainment room. There’s a pool table, darts, bookcases full of books, and so on and so forth. There are small tables and Crystal decanters. The walls are a damask grey and black.
We briskly walk through into glass, mirrored room. “It’s a pool room”, says Mari “And over there in the corner you have a jacuzzi.” she smiles.
“A hot tub? Vampire Ville has a hot tub?!” Mari laughs. Aside from being pissed that he kept this from me, I’m feeling quite optimistic about filling my days whilst he sleeps. Mari informs me there is a shower room, steam room and bathroom round the back. She then leads me upstairs and we bypass the master bedroom. I’ve spent many an hour screaming Ville’s names within those walls; I hope they’re soundproof. Mari shows me her bedroom, Elias’ bedroom, and the master bathroom. The master bathroom has a huge wide bath on four legs; the perfect cure for a hangover. She also opens two large wooden doors into a room with a large screen. I’m told it’s a home cinema which Ville never uses. I make a mental note to talk to him about this. There is a door at the end of the hall which Mari warns me never to open, and instructs that they are “Ville’s sleeping quarters”. I wonder how many coffins he has stacked up in there. I thank Mari for the tour, and make haste downstairs. I run to the car, grab my bags and run back upstairs. I’m sure that Elias is probably judging me, but with my toiletries now in the house I plan to never do the walk of shame again.
I have the longest, hottest soak in the bath and use this time to reflect on the last few weeks. It’s been a month since I first met Ville, and our relationship has progressed so quickly. We’ve both admitted we’re in love. We can’t go a day without seeing each other. I’m currently on long term sick from work with little desire to go back. I haven’t moved in but I might as well… the list goes on. He has never once asked if I want to become a vampire. I ponder on this. Maybe he wants me to, but doesn’t want to ask? Maybe the guilt of turning me into a vampire would be too much for him to bear? Do I even want to change? To survive on the life of others? To never again see the sun? These are impossible questions. Beyond being underneath Ville’s muscular body, I have no idea where I want to be or what I want to do. I sigh. After last night’s drunken mess, I take time to wash, moisturise and dress. I slip on a dark emerald green dress with sleeves. It’s simple but clingy, and I know it’ll make Ville salivate. I charge my phone, which has been dead for hours. There is a missed call from Larissa, followed by a text: “Your boyfriend was right about my date. Tell him I’m sorry. I miss you.” I scoff. Larissa can absolutely get fucked. Cruelly, I find myself thinking she would have deserved to have had her drink spiked, but I then dismiss the unkind thought from my head.
The day goes quickly and I soon realise it’s 6pm. Ville will be up in around an hour. I head to the kitchen and conduct a haphazard search though his groceries and appliances. I decide to make him a blood and tomato soup, with garlic bread for dipping. I laugh out loud thinking about serving garlic to my vampire boyfriend, but he did say it was safe… I start by chopping onions and other veggies; adding herbs and spices. I take a bottle out of the fridge and mix it in, trying not to think about what I’m cooking. Stirring the soup in the pan, two pale arms make their way around me. I gasp but the shock is over quickly as Ville starts to kiss my neck lightly.
“Something smells good…” he whispers into my neck.
“You don’t really eat…” I say, leaning into his touch, “…but food is my love language and I wanted to make you something”.
“Take a break”, he murmurs, tracing his lips along the skin on my collarbone. I sigh, and do as I’m told, turning the hob off, desperate to feel his touch. I back into the kitchen island in the middle of floor and, pressing with my hands, perch myself on the worktop. My gothic prince stands before me. Skinny jeans… and nothing else. I choose not to fight the lust, and run both of my hands down his pale toned chest. I glance up to take in his beauty. He stares down at me with light, sea green oceans for eyes, a sharp jaw that could cut through diamond, and blush pink lips. My eyes fixate on his mouth, hungry for his kiss, lustful for a bite on his plump bottom lip. As if he can read my thoughts, his lips crash down onto mine so aggressively that my fingers dig into his shoulders, pressing my body to his to avoid falling backwards.
My mouth agape in surprise welcomes Ville’s warm, wet tongue. Orally claiming me; my senses consumed by him. I know I am drenched with desire already and shiver with the anticipation. Noticing, he pulls back and asks “What is it, beautiful?”
I blush furiously, avoiding his gaze “My panties are wet just thinking…” I trail off, biting my lower lip.
“Don’t make me fuck you in this kitchen, baby…” he growls in his deep trademark voice, commanding my attention. He stares into my eyes and we both breathe heavily, the sexual tension loudly lingering in the air.
I wrap one leg around his waist and pull him towards me, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Valo.” I purr, and he loses it. He runs one hand through the hair on my head as the other gropes at my hip. His tongue exploring my mouth, my jawline, my neck. I start to moan and he stops to lean back and admire his handiwork as I pant and my chest heaves for air. He runs his hands up my thighs and I gasp as his fingers glide closer and closer.
Without warning he pushes my panties to the side and drives his index finger into my tight pussy. I cry out, practically cumming into his palm. “Ville…” I moan into his mouth. His middle finger joins his index finger as he pushes in and out, kissing me deeply. I brush his belt with my fingers, reaching lower to caress his cock through his jeans. He pauses for a moment; he moans and closes his eyes, enjoying the movement of my hand. Suddenly, his eyes snap back open and something has changed. They are red. My heart starts to beat outside of my chest.
“Ville?” I say, shakily. He removes his fingers; they are blood red. I look down, “Shit!” I curse, realising I’ve started my period. Ville moves his fingers to his lips and sucks my blood.
“You taste so good…” he moans, closing his eyes in ecstasy. When he opens them again, his eyes are back to their usual dreamy green. “I’m sorry… I… please don’t be scared. I just…” he runs his hands through his hair, visibly stressed “You smell so good and it wasn’t hurting you and…”.
“Shh, it’s okay.” I soothe, taking his shoulders in my hands. “Do you want to…?” He blinks.
“You’re asking if I want to drink your blood?” He says in disbelief.
“Yes… do you want to?” I repeat, softly.
“Are you sure?” His eyes begin to darken again.
“Yes, baby.” I lean back on to my elbows and move my legs slightly apart, “Drink me.” In an instant, Ville falls on one knee, slips my lace panties off and dives inside me, tongue first. I gasp at the feel of his warm tongue and the sound of him lapping between my thighs. I look down at him and am drawn into his crimson eyes. Our eyes meet and I watch him flick his tongue up and down my clitoris. I throw my head back and moan. Never in a million years would I have dreamt of this, but I am beside myself with arousal. I feel him tongue the opening to my vagina all the way to my clit; back and forth, torturing me in the best way.
I prepare my best Finnish accent and reach down to grasp his hair aggressively between my fingers. When I have control of his gaze, I beg “VITTU MINUA, VEELUH!” With a quick intake of breath, he stands, unbuckles his belt, frees the beast and shoves his hard cock inside of me. I scream in response as he pounds me aggressively and noisily. I imagine the sounds of our moaning and the quick sharp slaps of his skin against mine echoing through the halls.
“Please, God, HARDER!” I beg. He wraps his strong arms around my waist and lifts me off the kitchen counter. He slams me into the kitchen wall and thrusts aggressively. Up close I see his wild, hungry red eyes and the sharp fangs he is trying to conceal. I know what he wants…. “Bite me, baby” I whisper, gasping as he obliges immediately, sinking his fangs into the tender flesh of my neck, drinking my life, as I come undone.
“Oh my god!” I whimper as my walls tighten around him. He continues the aggressive assault until I hear him moan loudly.
“Vittu! Oh, fuck!” He slows to a halt and holds me tightly, both of us shaking with the comedown from our respective orgasms.
I unwrap my legs from his waist and attempt to stand, but my legs are weak. He senses my imbalance and holds me close as he catches his breath at the nape of my neck.
“I’m sorry, sometimes I forget which language I’m speaking.” he smiles. I smile weakly, my abdomen throbbing with pain. I am unsure if it is because of my typical monthly woe, or because of the unusually, but absolutely welcome, rough sex. He bites into his wrist and then kisses my neck with his bloody mouth, healing my bite wound.
“What does it mean when your eyes turn red?” I whisper. “It’s, uh, hunger, lust, maybe a bit of both?” He muses.
“Bloodlust.” I correct.
“Yeah…” he smiles, sheepishly. “I, um, that was amazing.” He says, beaming.
“Life-changing.” I blush “…but now I don’t think I can walk”. His eyes widen.
“Oh God, did I go too hard?” He asks, remorsefully.
“Um, yes, but I asked you to… and I enjoyed it.” I give him a reassuring smile.
“Well, I can carry you!” He fireman lifts me in his arms. “Where would you like to go, my love?”
I giggle, “Well, my boyfriend forgot to tell me he has a freaking hot tub, so let’s start there!”
He hesitates, “Do I? I’d forgotten about that!” He chuckles.
“How could you forget you have an entire spa in your home?!” I laugh, but Ville’s smile fades.
“Luxuries are senseless when you have no one to share it with.” I wonder how much pain he hides behind those eyes. “Anyway, your spa retreat awaits!” he forces a smile and whisks me to his pool room.
By now, I have regained the ability to stand despite the crippling pain in my cervix. I pull my dress over my head.
“Did you bring a bikini?” He asks.
“No…” I smirk, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor. I slowly lower myself into the hot tub. The warm water soothes my aching, swollen lady parts: this is bliss.
Ville walks to the corner of the room to flick a switch. The spotlights fade. “Mood lighting.” He grins, and I watch him slide off his jeans, noting there is no underwear in sight, as his manhood once again looms free, still somewhat erect.
“Down, girl!” I scold myself mentally. I will need at least a day to recover. Ville climbs in and positions himself next to me, one arm around my shoulders.
“Ville?” I turn to him. “You seem so sad… talk to me”.
Ville takes a deep breath, “Is it that obvious?” I nod. “I’ve made some poor life choices, and I’m scared I will end up alone. There was a dark time in my life where all I did was abuse my body. I drank myself stupid. I tried very unsuccessfully to kill myself. I never expected to be happy again. I was so full of hope. I wanted a family. I wanted kids. Sometimes I feel like I’ve wasted my life.”
I put my arms tenderly around his shoulders. “You haven’t wasted your life, you have a brilliant musical legacy. You won’t be alone: you have me. Always.” I soothe.
He closes his eyes. “I want to believe that so badly…” he sighs “…but you and I both know you deserve better. How long before you meet someone who can take you for dates in the sun…”
“Fuck the sun.” I interject. “You forget I can take myself out into the sun.” I reason.
“Yes… but I won’t have you for long, after you reach the limits of your mortality I will be forever alone.” He avoids my gaze, looking down, like he is doing everything to mask his emotional pain.
“Ville… nothing is going to stop me being with you. I don’t need to see the fucking sun.” He looks up in disbelief; his lips parted in shock.
“No… I can’t ask you to do that.” He whispers.
“It is my decision to make, and I want to. End of story.” I say harshly, not entertaining his pity party. “I’m not ready yet… give me time. I will be. I promise.” I cup his cheek in my hand and he turns to kiss my palm.
“I can’t help but feel guilt… taking you away from the light, from the life you know.” He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes, round and bright and beautiful.
“Before you, I was floating through life, never feeling rooted, never belonging anywhere.” I say, earnestly. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m home… and home is wherever you are.” I feel the tracks of warm tears down my cheeks. He cups my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears.
“Olen sinun ikuisesti, rakkaani.” He smiles.
“You are…?” I try to translate.
“I am yours forever, my love.” He says, leaning his head to one side to look at me. He is adorable.
I pause, translating English to Finnish in my head, desperate for it to sound perfect. “Olet minun ikuisesti, rakkaani.” Proudly I tell him that he is mine forever.
“You’ve been practising”, grins Ville, pleasantly surprised.
“I’ve been on Duo Lingo constantly.” I laugh. “Fuck, the soup!” I curse, as I realise I’ve left Ville’s meal half cooked in a pan on the stove. “Oh goddamnit, my panties as well…”
“It was very sweet of you to cook for me. I can’t say I’m hungry, though, as you know I’ve already eaten…” he raises an eyebrow suggestively, dragging my mind back to our deliciously depraved encounter on the kitchen island.
“I am WEAK, Ville. Who told you to sneak up on me shirtless?!” We both giggle.
“I couldn’t find my Black Sabbath shirt!” He becomes aroused and suggestive at the mention of it being on the bathroom floor having been worn by his girlfriend.
When my fingertips wrinkle, we wrap ourselves in towels and head up to his bedroom so I can get changed. Ville suggests some of his shirts. He sits on the edge of his bed, watching me try on his things. I steal a pair of black boxers from his drawer and peruse his collection of band merchandise. I borrow a Jane’s Addiction crop shirt.
“I can’t believe I’m borrowing a crop top from my boyfriend…” I laugh, rolling my eyes.
“You look better in it.” He grins, reaching and grabbing the shirt hem to yank me forwards into his arms. He starts kissing my bare stomach.
“Mmm, stop…” I say begrudgingly, stroking the curls on his head “I’m sore, baby, I need time to heal.” Ville pouts, his bottom lip protruding in frustration. “Don’t make me bite that lip, Valo!” I glare at him, jokingly.
“What was that thing you said earlier? Don’t threaten me with a good time?” We laugh together; teasing and enjoying each other’s company. “I promise I’ll behave myself. Just tell me when you’re ready, again.” He pulls his skinny jeans on and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms waiting for me to finish blow drying and brushing my hair. I steal glances at his smooth toned chest and force the less than holy thoughts away.
I grab a shirt from his drawer and throw it at him. “Put on a shirt, Valo! You’re too distracting!”
He walks up to me and puts his hands on my hips. “Hmm, you seem to be getting far too comfortable with disrespect…” he smirks. “One more ‘Valo’ and I will have to spank that beautiful ass.”
Impossible to hide my arousal, I close my eyes and steady my breath, “Pencil me in for a spanking when I’ve recovered.” I say, huskily, and quickly pull on a pencil skirt.
I think about going out for a date, but my memories of last night surface and I decide I need time away from the world outside of Ville’s home. I realise I have grown weary of the drunken London crowd; I am tired of trying to fit in where I don’t belong. Ville as always is understanding and supportive. He leads me down the stairs and outside. Behind his home is acres of grassy land. He lays a picnic blanket down so that we can lie in each others’ arms and look at the stars. I lay my head on his solid chest and nuzzle close to him. The night is romantic and my heart is full. We spend the night talking about our hopes and dreams; our plans for the future, which now involve each other. We talk about going back to Finland so I can meet his parents. Ville is close with his parents and hasn’t seen them for a year; he feels awful about it. They know he is a vampire and they worry. We talk about marriage. Marriage is sacred to him; he gushes about the loving relationship his parents have, and how they are the epitome of a happy married couple. He tells me he has never experienced a romance as close until now. He kisses me sweetly under the light of the moon. We talk about children and his heart is heavy; I suggest adoption and he brightens. There is hope. Ville has felt lost ever since the band broke up and says he has been thinking about starting a solo venture. He tells me he has started writing a song for me. I beg to hear it but he tells me it’s nowhere near finished; it’s working title is ‘Foreverlost’. I pout and he responds by leaning in and biting my bottom lip gently.
His beautiful light eyes burn a hole in me, like he can see right into my soul. “What?” I ask nervously as he looks at me.
“I am forever lost in you.” He says, dreamily.
“That would make a good lyric.” I smile.
“It would”, agrees Ville.
The sky is lightening, preparing for sunrise, yet we remain still, not wanting to let go of each other. Ville’s legs shift, and he stands. “Come”, he commands, holding out his palm. I look up, mildly irritated and cross my arms defiantly. “I’ll sing you a song?” he offers, and I jump up excitement. We hold hands and walk slowly back to the house.
In his room, I kick my shoes off and sit on the bed, ready to be serenaded. Ville pulls off his shirt and begins to tune his guitar. “You need to be shirtless to play?!” I roll my eyes, mildly annoyed by the audacity of this man, parading his sexy body around. Who the hell does he think he is?!
He grins, “It helps the artistic process… and makes my girlfriend wet.” He winks in my direction and the accuracy of his words borders on ridiculous. He sits in front of me on the bed and begins to play an acoustic, slow, heart-wrenching tune. He purses his lips and takes a breath, ready to sing…
We're drifting apart,
But I want you to know
Wherever you are I belong
Love's singing our song
But we fail to sing along
Wherever you go I will follow
So please don't let it
Please don't let it go
Cause if you won't let it
I won't let it go
You try to be strong
But you're always so alone
Whatever I do I do you wrong
Death sings our song
And we eagerly sing along
Whatever you do I adore
So please don't let it
Please don't let it go
Cause if you won't let it
I won't let it go
Don't let go of life
Let go of love
Let go of all we have
Don't let go of trust
Let go of lust
Let go of all we share
So please don't let it
Please don't let it go
Cause if you won't let it
I won't let it go
“I will never let you go.” I whisper. We embrace as he places soft kisses on the top of my head. The sun is rising and I know he has to sleep soon.
“Stay with me?” I plead.
“You know I can’t, baby” he whispers back, morose.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m too delicious, whatever!” I chide, folding my arms and facing away from him, hiding a wry smile.
He kneels on the bed and crawls up behind me. He leans in, his lips millimetres from my ear. “You get very bratty when all you need a good fuck.” I gasp and turn to look at him. “I will be happy to fuck that attitude out of you, when you are ready.” He purrs.
“You are evil!” I pout.
“I am… but you love it.” He knows I can’t argue. “Good night, rakkaani” he says as he slips out of the bedroom door.
“Better hope I don’t nail that coffin door shut, Valo!” I yell after him, hearing him giggle like a schoolgirl down the hall. I lie back on the bed and smile, feeling truly and utterly content, before succumbing to sleep.
Graphics by @saradika-graphics
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Slemish Stone

Slemish Stone Ltd – Quartz & Granite Worktops in Northern Ireland
Slemish Stone Ltd is a trusted specialist in the design, manufacture, and installation of premium quartz and granite worktops across Northern Ireland. Based in Ballymena, County Antrim, we proudly serve homeowners, kitchen retailers, architects, and builders throughout the region, including Belfast, Antrim, Lisburn, Newtownabbey, and Coleraine.
With years of industry experience, Slemish Stone has built a solid reputation for exceptional craftsmanship, attention to detail, and customer satisfaction. We offer a wide selection of high-quality quartz and natural granite worktops that suit every style, budget, and project size—whether you’re renovating your kitchen, upgrading a commercial workspace, or designing a luxury interior.
Our expert team works closely with clients to supply and install bespoke kitchen worktops tailored to individual requirements. Every worktop is fabricated using precision CNC machinery and finished by hand to deliver a perfect result every time. We stock leading quartz brands such as Silestone, Unistone, and Caesarstone, as well as a diverse range of natural granite sourced from trusted suppliers.
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Visit our showroom in Ballymena to explore our stone samples, or request a free quote online at www.slemishstone.com. Follow us on Instagram and Facebook for inspiration and completed projects. For professional, local quartz and granite fabrication, trust Slemish Stone—where precision meets natural beauty.
Address : 70 Glenleslie Road, Clough, Ballymena, BT44 9RH, United Kingdom
Phone : +44 7929 349308
Business Email : [email protected]
Website : https://slemishstone.com/
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Modern Kitchen Ideas Featuring Black Marble Worktops
Your kitchen isn’t just a place to cook any more; it’s the heart of the home, the social hub, the background for your best Instagram stories, and let’s not forget your go-to midnight snack zone. So, when you are thinking about a kitchen upgrade, every detail counts. And one show-stopping element that can turn heads and make your kitchen picture-perfect is a black marble worktop.
Read More : https://worktoplibrary.co.uk/blog/modern-kitchen-ideas-featuring-black-marble-worktops/
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Inspiration for Your Dream Fitted Kitchen
Creating your perfect kitchen is all about combining style, functionality, and quality. Whether you’re updating a small space or designing a statement kitchen, fitted kitchens offer endless possibilities. Here’s why:
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💡 Looking for ideas? Explore a variety of stunning designs—from contemporary styles with clean lines to traditional kitchens full of charm—on our fitted kitchens page.
Step into sophistication with this stunning modern grey kitchen. Featuring:
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Danvers NorthWest Ltd: Comprehensive Home Improvement & Property Services Across Blackpool and the North West
At Danvers NorthWest Ltd, we take pride in being Blackpool’s trusted partner for high-quality home improvements and expert property maintenance solutions. With decades of combined experience serving clients across Blackpool and the North West, we specialise in a wide range of trades—from flooring and joinery to full plumbing and heating services. Whether you're renovating a single room or undertaking a large-scale property refurbishment, Danvers NorthWest Ltd is your one-stop shop for excellence in craftsmanship, reliability, and customer satisfaction.
Flooring Specialists: Design, Supply, and Installation Our expert team delivers a complete flooring service—from initial consultation through to floor fitting and final touches. Whether you prefer wooden flooring, laminate flooring, or something bespoke, we supply and install a range of premium options to suit every interior. Our flooring installation experts ensure a perfect fit, every time, with a strong focus on durability, aesthetics, and attention to detail.
Joinery and Carpentry Excellence Our in-house joinery services are second to none. As skilled carpenters and joiners, we offer everything from door hanging and bespoke fitted cabinets to timber window replacements and custom bedroom furniture. Whether you're modernising your space or restoring period features, our craftsmanship shines through in every detail.
Bespoke Kitchens and Bedrooms Transform your home with our stunning kitchen design and kitchen installation services. At Danvers NorthWest Ltd, we collaborate closely with clients to create custom kitchens that reflect individual style and functionality. From layout planning and kitchen fitting to bespoke cabinetry and worktops, we bring your vision to life with precision and flair.
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We also provide advanced heating solutions, including underfloor heating, radiator installations, radiator repairs, and central heating filters. Our power flushing services ensure your system operates at peak performance, while our planned maintenance packages help prevent future issues before they arise.
Landlords can also rely on us for Gas Safety Certificates, making sure your property is compliant and secure.
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Why Choose Danvers NorthWest Ltd? Fully Qualified: Certified professionals in gas, plumbing, heating, joinery, and construction trades
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At Danvers NorthWest Ltd, we believe in doing things right the first time. Our goal is to enhance the comfort, functionality, and value of your home or property—whether through stylish interior renovations, expert heating services, or stunning custom joinery. Every job is treated with the same care and attention to detail, no matter how big or small.
Contact Danvers NorthWest Ltd Today
Looking to start your next home improvement or renovation project in Blackpool or the wider North West? Whether it’s a full-scale refurbishment or a small plumbing job, we’re here to help.
Call us today for a free, no-obligation quote Visit our website to view our portfolio and customer testimonials Serving Blackpool, Preston, Lytham St Annes, Lancaster, and beyond
Danvers NorthWest Ltd – Quality. Craftsmanship. Care.
Website: https://danversnorthwest.co.uk
Address: 1 Regency Gardens, Blackpool, Lancashire, FY2 0WX
Phone Number: 01253 928150
Contact Email: [email protected]
Business Hours: Mon - Fri : 08:00am - 06:30pm Sat : 08:00am - 01:00pm Sun : Closed
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Elevate Your Space with Karst Galleria.
Transform your interiors into a realm of luxury and sophistication with Karst Galleria. Whether you're redesigning your home, office, or commercial space, we offer the finest interior design services that blend style, functionality, and elegance.
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Our Interior Design Services:
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Experience True Luxury with Karst Galleria
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