#old-gentlemanly

[raw-diggity-dog]

do you guys think ren has a roleplay kink irl. like would he want to do some sort of dorky high fantasy light bondage scene in bed. or some kinda starwar thing. would he be like ok im a bad guy with the red sword and youre a rebel and you get caught by me and then we ;D >:) haha YOU know

hes a theater kid dnd adjacent roleplay guy and the venn diagram between those groups and kinky roleplay sex is basically a circle so im choosing to believe he wants to fuck while wearing a cloak at some point. If he hasnt already.

[permanentreverie]

chat why was my first date with a 35 yo man 😭

[matt-murdick]

I’m sorry to say it babes but tvd Elijah was the best. he was sexy, he was scary, and he was mysterious. sir was serving every episode.

[correctopinionhaver]

Greece (1923)

[wmnylander]

i always forget i own an am34 jersey until i see it in my wardrobe and then i remember how i spent over €200 at like 4 am the night they got out of the first round and it makes me question my bad bitch status

[thateclecticbitch]

Homo update: we are boyfriends now :D

[silverspleen]

been reading about Gothic horror and I think you would make a great person who is adjacent and survived the horror. I don't see you being a protag because you are smart enough to not eat mysterious ooze or some shit and just nope out. Alsoci think you would look fantastic in a victorian or regency suit

Thank you Sono!! I love gothic horror but I need to read more of it.

I would love to wear some victorian/regency suits with the fun lines and shapes and cool colors. I want to dress up fancy more but clothing is expensive. :(

I look good in ruffles at least!

(old 2021 pic)

[erwinsvow]

young, shy reader and price who is just a little too old for it be considered fine. it’s not like that’s stopping either of them. soft spoken, jittery shy reader who’s really sick and tired of boys her age—she can barely hold a conversation with them—who is just so taken aback at how assertive price is. they meet, and plans for a first date are cemented before the end of the hour. he actually comes to pick her up—and while she’s scrambling to get shoes on, thinking she needs to rush outside to meet him, he knocks on the door.

he’s brought flowers. the whole thing seems like something out of a movie. everything about price is so… gentlemanly. the way he holds doors open, pulls chairs back, walks on the side of street closer to the road. the way she doesn’t have to fret and die over bad communication. no, he does all of that, without even being asked. it’s a little dumb, but that’s the state of dating right now. so this is such a breath of fresh air it’s like getting the wind knocked out of you. as enamored you are with him, you hope you’re not reading into it too much—is he like this with every girl he picks up in a bar?

but then days turn to weeks which turn to months—and john price has become the most consistent part of your life, the best part of each day and whose voice can lull you to sleep each night. and you settle nicely into the role—a cute pretty thing in a sundress that fits perfectly on his arm, attached at his side. and maybe you are just a little too young for him, but you can hardly care when he has you creaming all over his dick once, twice, three times a day, sometimes. yes, your boyfriend is a little older. just a little.

[sunsburns]

okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.

[homunculus-argument]

One of the most fun character concepts that I've had that I've never been able to fit into anything is The Most Appropriate Socialite Lady. Nobody dislikes her, but she is, indeed, very Appropriate, always seeming to do everything precisely to social etiquette, even according to social rules that nobody else knew were a thing. If there is a protocol to how to behave or respond in any given situation, no matter how obscure or how long ago it was that this was written down in some Refined Society Etiquette Book, she'll know it. So she is a bit old-fashioned sometimes, but not in a regressive way.

Every time there's a situation where nobody actually knows what the right way to respond would be, they quietly glance at her, because either she knows exactly how to handle this, or if the situation truly is without precedent, her educated guess of what should be done must be the right one. Someone might even write it down for a future etiquette book, of how This Most Polite Well-Mannered Lady responded to this awkward situation.

She doesn't judge people, and is never rude about people breaking Good Manner Rules on purpose (as pointing out someone doing so would be impolite), but the way she seems genuinely surprised and confused whenever someone breaks the protocol that nobody else might even been aware of makes people feel self-conscious or awkward sometimes. And she politely pretends to not notice that. She is very kind, very sweet, but also extremely Appropriate.

So even if this isn't a Victorian style gentlemanly "fine ladies are fragile and must be sheltered from the world"-style society by default, people still feel the need to behave well and be on their best formal behaviour around her, not out of fear of judgement but because she genuinely is that way and nobody wants to upset her. And if someone who doesn't give a shit about protocols upsets her on purpose by deliberately doing something that's fucking rude, they'll be discreetly moved to a different location before getting the shit beat out of them because fuck you for upsetting her.

The thing is, she's actually just autistic as hell. She originally started reading up on social etiquette as a way of masking, but it became a special interest for her, and she isn't just thrilled to teach you how to properly fold a napkin to help you better fit in to the Refined Society, but because she fucking loves infodumping. She's not trying to set herself apart, gatekeep, judge others or show off how she's better than you (like many others of her background would), she just genuinely enjoys having explicitly and clearly written rules and instructions on how to behave in society.

Also the tactful and graceful way in which she doesn't pay notice to veiled insults, or people accidentally saying something insulting to her, isn't always an act. A lot of the time she genuinely just does not notice.

[howifeltabouthim]

'You had better go now,' she said, 'and forget what has passed between us. I know that you are a gentleman, and that you will forget it.'

Anthony Trollope, from Phineas Finn

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

synopsis: how they eat it ;)

including: diluc, neuvillete, zhongli, childe, wriothesley, al haitham

a/n: repost/ rewrite from old acc!

ᯓ 𝘿𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙘 ᡣ𐭩

…is an absolute tease, but not on purpose.

He'd go the slowest; wanting to taste and suck every part of your sweet cunt. He'll circle his tongue around your clit until you're begging him to finally take it into his mouth and please you.

You lay on his bed, sprawled out while his face in between your thighs which he held apart with his warm palms, as you ran your fingers through his hair. You look down to meet his eyes before he's focused all his attention to making you cry his name.

"Mmm...does that feel good, my princess? Keep saying my name." Diluc says, finally flicking his tongue on your click and feeling you jolt.

ᯓ 𝙕𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞 ᡣ𐭩

…who seems like he's absolutely starved.

Don't let his gentlemanly act fool you, on the outside and in public view; he's kind and careful, but with you....The moment your cunt is available his mouth is latched onto it, he can't keep his mouth off you or his fingers away from your hole.

You sit on his desk, legs spread wide open as he sits in his chair, his head faced down straight into your wet, puffy pussy.

His fingers curl up inside you while he licks up your folds, sucking and biting you. And remember, Mr. Zhongli's tongue is that of a dragon, expect it to reach the very depths of you as you cry for him.

"Is this how you like it my love? You're so wet, all for me, aren't you?" Zhongli will say, his amber eyes staring up at you while he makes you cum all over his pronged tongue.

ᯓ 𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚 ᡣ𐭩

…loves to give you the best head in public. It gets him so hard, thinking about how you can't keep yourself quiet while he eats you out; the possibility of someone hearing you, hearing how good he makes you feel that you can't control yourself.

Anytime you're in public, is a possibility Childe will pull you off to the side, finding whatever alley way or patio or even bathroom to pull your panties off with his teeth and kneel before you. He'll have your thighs on his shoulders and your back against a wall, staying up solely from his hands cupping your ass and his face buried in your cunt.

"Shhh... not so loud baby, don't want to get caught and cut this short now do we? I'm not done tasting you.” He’d say, a small giggle leaving his voice before he goes right back to eating you.

ᯓ 𝘼𝙡𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙢 ᡣ𐭩

…loves it when you sit on his face. His favorite form of foreplay is to just make you cum over and over before he even loses his pants.

Before he's at 1 you're coming close to 3, he'll lay back and sit you on top of his mouth so he can watch your tits bounce when he looks up, seeing you drag your pussy across his tongue , forcing you to ride his face, while his hot tongue presses against your clit and slips into your hole.

"Mhm- just like that. Look at me or I’ll stop." Alhaitham whispers, muffled under you as he practically sucking the cum out of you as you ride out your third orgasm all over his face.

ᯓ 𝙉𝙚𝙪𝙫𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 ᡣ𐭩

….begs you to let him taste you. He claims it's his way to unwind from a stressful day....and he says everyday has been stressful.

Really, he just loves to feel the warmth around his mouth and to feel your juices soak his face while he hears your pretty voice.

You could just be sitting on the couch, waiting for him to get home; and the minute he is he's at your knees, telling you how much he wants you to cum in his mouth.

"Y/n...fuck-, tastes so good my love, mmfph- can't get enough..." Neu will say, muffled as his mouth never leaves your cunt. His fist pumps his own cock while he eats you out, getting off on you completely, he might even cum before you do while listening to your sweet moans.

ᯓ 𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙮 ᡣ𐭩

…is the messiest one. He loves to be smothered in you. You'll both have the nastiest role play every. It's just as you'd think, the cop comes and arrests you and you've got a way out of the ticket.

Wrio will have you bend over his desk, as he eats it from the back, spreading your ass apart with his hands while his finger grazes up your folds and his mouth laps up all your juices.

"So naughty....look how wet this pussy is, you really need to be taught a lesson baby." Wriotheseley will say, pressing down on your lower stomach hoping to make you squirt all over his mouth.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[virtuous-absolute]

[strang3lov3]

Spencer's

Summary: You and Joel visit Spencer's. You snag some toys, then steal some batteries from Joel for those toys. He's not pleased.

Warnings: DRAMATIC!Joel, implied age gap, Joel is jealous of certain inanimate objects, Joel is winnie-the-poohing it, overstimulation, masturbation (m/f), general filth, unprotected piv, creampie, brat-taming (if you squint), spanking, use of sex toys, joel is pro-participation trophy, joel reads Savage Love, soft!dom joel, dom!joel, mall rats!joel

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @papipascalispunk for editing and proofreading this story. I am so thankful for her help and lucky to know her 🩷

W/C: 4.3k

It’s patrol again. You’re in that old mall with Joel. And he’s quiet today, like he has been the past couple weeks. No shitty comments or dumb jokes. Hardly any of his usual grumbling, just quiet and stoic. He’s wearing a green flannel, sleeves rolled up. Beard recently trimmed, his hair a little less unkempt than usual. And he seems nervous, antsy, bouncing his foot as you both sit on a bench, taking a short break. 

You could help him relax. 

“Victoria’s Secret is back that way. Kinda wanna try on some more lingerie,” you suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait you’re offering.  

“Pass,” Joel says, “You know I don’t like that place.”

“You could watch. We had fun last time we did that, didn’t we?” you reach for Joel’s arm and try to pull him from his seat and toward that dreaded underwear store. He doesn’t budge. 

“Joel?” you ask, confused by his reluctance.

“I don’t know about all that, hon. Thinkin’ we should go to that bookstore, find some more books for the library back home,” Joel points toward a nearby Barnes & Noble, “Yeah?”

You shrug, “Sure, after.”

“After what?”

“This,” you lean toward Joel and grip onto the collar of his flannel, pushing it back to expose more of his neck. Pressing your lips to his throat, nipping and kissing the skin as your hand trails down his torso, fumbling with his belt. 

You’re not wasting time. 

“Oh,” Joel breathes shakily, “That.”

“Yeah,” you say with a satisfied smirk, “That.”

You nudge his head to the side with your nose and try to push him back into the bench, pushing his flannel further over his clavicle to expose more of his neck, but he stays firm. He grabs the hand fumbling with his belt and pulls it away. “I don’t think so,” he says. You pull away immediately and Joel looks at you with sympathy, concern. 

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” you ask, feeling insecure, self-conscious all of the sudden.

“You didn’t do anything,” Joel says. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been with him, he knows you’re probably antsy for more because he is too. But he’s feeling apprehensive. Each time you’ve fucked, it’s been quick and dirty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. He’s not sure what exactly your history with other men is, but Joel fancies himself a gentleman and believes in the campsite rule. Believes that you deserve better than what he’s been giving you. Starting with, say, a bed. You’re exhausting, troublesome, and you’re like a tick the way you get under Joel’s skin, but you still deserve decency. 

Decency won’t stop him from fucking the living daylights out of you, though. He’ll just be a little more gentlemanly about it all, moving forward.  

Joel clears his throat, “You’re young, you know. And I–”.

“And you what?” your tone is snarky.

“Jesus Christ, motormouth,” Joel snaps, “Would you let me finish speaking before you start arguin’?”

You shrug but remain silent, motioning for him to continue. 

“I just think we should do things by the book from now on. Dinner, talking, that kinda stuff. You know, I just want things to be sort of…nice for you. I dunno the word exactly, just...nice, I guess.” You watch Joel blush as he struggles to spell it out.

“Do you mean romantic? Like a date?" Excitedly, you gasp, "Are you taking me to the Rainforest Cafe?”

Joel stares at you blankly before speaking. Rainforest Cafe is a no-go, you're guessing. “No. Not romantic. And not like a date. A date is for two people that actually like each other.” 

And just like that, the attitude is back. He just exudes charisma. 

You pout, “You don’t like me?”

“No, I don’t. I barely tolerate you. But, you know. I still wanna - want you - I want us to…I don’t know,” Joel groans. It’s entertaining, watching him try to spit it out. 

Awh. He barely tolerates you.

You smile, “I barely tolerate you, too.” But Joel won’t look at you, keeps his eyes focused ahead. Still nervous, he fidgets with his hands and continues bouncing his leg.

“Was thinkin’ tomorrow,” Joel mutters quietly, “Y’could come over. Could be…nice. Maybe. Probably not, ‘cause you’ll be there.”

“Yeah. Sounds nice. Maybe. Probably not. ‘Cause you’ll be there too,” you mock his low tone. 

Joel glares at you, “Seven. My place. Be on time.”

—

After your break, you explore the mall further. There’s a store called Spencer’s, which looks neat. Joel agrees, unaware of exactly the kind of store Spencer’s is, so you both go inside. There’s funny t-shirts, cool knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Joel is looking at various lava lamps as you make your way toward the back, and he follows you. 

Holy shit.

There’s all sorts of things on this back wall. Handcuffs, lingerie, lubricants, vibrators, dildos, costumes.

“Wow,” you say, “Looks like your kind of party, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Shut up.”

“This looks nice. Not romantic at all,” as you poke Joel with a vibrator. 

He flinches, “Get that shit offa’ me, freakazoid.”

“We could use it tomorrow. On our not-date,” you smirk.

“Don’t need it,” he huffs. 

“Wow. You seem confident about that,” you say. Joel shrugs, a look on his face you can’t quite read. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll take it for myself. You know, for alone time.”

His face falls immediately. Joel, prudish as he may seem, truly does not have an issue with masturbation. It’s natural, it’s human. But something about you doing it makes it a little… jealousy-inducing. The thought of you, one of those toys between your thighs, you making all sorts of pretty noises that he can’t hear; it’s just too much for him. “Yeah, knock yourself out,” he says sarcastically, “You’ll have a lot of fun with a battery-less vibrator.”

“You still have some, don’t you?”

Joel scoffs, “I do. But they’re mine, and I sure as shit ain’t sharin’ with you, ‘specially not for those things.” 

“Sharing is caring, you know.”

Joel rolls his eyes, “S’a bold assumption you’re making there. That I care about you.” 

Rude. 

You poke him with the vibrator again. “Quit that,” he grumbles, “Now stay here a minute. Gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” He drops his bag and heads for a private area nearby. You stare at his bag on the floor and wonder if he’s fucking with you, because he never goes anywhere without his bag. Better to be safe than sorry is what he always says. And you know he keeps batteries in that bag. 

Ah, fuck it. He won’t know. 

There’s a sign that says “buy two toys, get one free”, and you’re not one to pass up a good deal, even if that deal means nothing now being twenty-or-so years into a fungus apocalypse. So you stuff three toys in your bag, along with one of the lava lamps Joel was checking out. You rifle through Joel’s belongings and pull out a handful of batteries, then stuff those into your bag too. Six should do it, hopefully. After twenty years, a lot of them are duds. You’ll try the toys out tonight, then sneakily put the batteries back in Joel’s pack tomorrow night on your not-date. And Joel will be none the wiser. 

—-

Joel is livid. 

Someone called off patrol today, so he was volunteered by Tommy to fill in. He’d still be back in time for your not-date, and although the change in his plans was not ideal, it’s not what set him off today. No, that was all you. 

His radio had died toward the end of his shift. No big deal, he thought. He reached into his pack and fumbled through his belongings to find his spare batteries. Only, they weren’t in his bag. So he searched a little longer before he realized he actually knew exactly where those precious batteries would be. No doubt inside you at the moment. 

Was he in danger without a working radio? Could’ve been, but no, not really. Will he never find batteries again? Yes, he will. Joel’s crafty and good at scouting supplies like that, even when supplies are sparse. What did pissed him off, however, is the fact he knows you consciously went behind his back to steal his batteries for those toys. You’ve probably spent all last night and all day today fucking yourself silly, couldn’t have waited just one more day. He feels a little insulted, topping off the jealousy already simmering.

Joel comes back to Jackson around five in the evening. He should be showering, cooking, setting the table, and tidying his house. But instead, he makes a beeline for your place. 

He doesn’t bother knocking on your door. He knows you keep it unlocked, something he constantly advises you against. He closes your door, and hears your long and pretty moans coming from upstairs. He’s not sure what’s coming over him or why he cares so much. He prides himself on being level-headed, rational. But all of that’s out the door when he hears your moans, moans that he believes should have been all for him and him alone. 

At least he gets to catch you in the act. 

Joel tiptoes up your steps, fighting his urge to stomp angrily. Your bedroom door is wide open, lights dim. There’s a lava lamp bubbling next to you on your nightstand. You’re laid out on the bed, legs spread, one toy between your thighs and two others lay next to you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you moan Joel’s name. It’s a nice touch. Maybe he’ll go easy on you. 

Probably not. 

He stands in your doorway and clears his throat, “Enjoyin’ yourself?” 

“Joel!” you yelp and your eyes fly open. Joel moves to stand next to your bed, his gaze dark and intense, his mouth forming an unamused frown. 

“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

Your words are caught in your throat. Ohh, you are so busted.

“How many’d you steal from me?”

The vibrating dildo you were fucking yourself with is still humming loudly, and in the otherwise silence of your room, it’s deafening. You fumble to try to turn it off. 

“Oh, no. Don’t let me interrupt your date. That’d be awful rude of me.” 

Too shocked to make any moves, you freeze, dildo still humming away inside you. And as anxious as you feel, you’re equally excited. You’ve picked up on Joel’s jealous side, and you’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t trying to rile him up. 

“I just, mmmm,” you moan, “Just missed you a lot. Couldn’t wait for tonight.”

“S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You missed me so much you decided to deliberately go through my bag and steal my batteries?”, he spits, sarcasm lacing his words, “Yeah hon, sure looks like you missed me, fuckin’ yourself on that plastic cock.”

“Silicone,” you correct, though now definitely isn’t the time to bother with semantics. Joel notices you rocking your hips ever so slightly, chasing your orgasm as subtly as you can. You’re right, right fucking there. He can see it on you, you’ve got that look about you. Your breathing is shaky and your body trembles. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve,” Joel hovers over you, one hand next to you on the bed and his other reaching for your toy. 

“Please,” you beg. 

“Think you’ve made yourself come enough, impatient goddamn brat,” he mumbles as he pulls the toy away from your center, tossing it aside. You groan and whine in frustration. Just three more seconds, you would have been there. 

Fucking Joel.

“I’m at a loss on what to do here, sweetheart,” Joel says as he kicks off his shoes before sitting on your bed, his back against the headboard, “Can’t fuckin’ take those batteries back on account of they’ve all been inside ya.”

“Joel, I did not fuck myself with your batteries. That’s…not how that works.”

“Shut up, wiseass.”

“Joel, I was gonna give them back, I swear. I just wanted–”.

Joel cuts you off, not caring to hear the rest of your explanation, “All half used and out of juice? How generous. Lucky me,” he muses, annoyed.

“Joel–”.

“Don’t think you fuckin’ get it,” he snaps, “Y’got no fuckin’ self control. You’re lyin’ to me, stealin’ from me, sneakin’ around. And it breaks my heart, ‘cause I was startin’ to look forward to our date.”

“Date?” you ask in confusion. Joel’s cheeks turn rosy as he refuses to acknowledge his slip up. The not-date turned actual-date. “Joel.”

“Need to get through to you somehow,” he ignores you, still too upset,  “Got a couple different ideas in mind. I guess we’ll have to see which one sticks.”

He pulls you up and over his lap, your head laying on the crumpled sheets. He presses a hand firmly on your neck, holding you in place as he gently runs his other hand over the swell of your ass. 

You know what’s coming. And it’s been a long time coming, at that. You've noticed the way Joel looks at you, his angry stare and how he chews on his inner cheek. How his hands ball into fists, like he’s fighting the urge to strangle you. Wrap his hands around your neck and just fucking squeeze. 

Crack. 

The sting of his hand striking your ass is as delicious as it is painful. He smacks you again, harder. And it’s just as incredible. That sharp bite, how it sends arousal gushing from your core. You can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth. 

Joel pulls you off his lap abruptly, onto your knees between his thighs, and faces you towards him. He wears a puzzled expression, like somehow he wasn’t aware that spanking is more of a reward than it is a punishment, at least to you. “Ya weren’t s’posed to enjoy that so much.”

“Joel–”.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. Fuckin’ weirdo,” he interrupts, shaking his head a little. Joel thinks for a moment, staring at you as he contemplates his next move. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can practically watch the gears in his head begin to turn. “I think,” he lifts his hips to pull both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock springs free. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to see it. Long and thick, prominent vein, blushed tip a bit wider than his shaft. Curly dark hair surrounding the base. It’s artwork. “Think we’ll try Plan B,” he says firmly as he reaches forward, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke his member, thumb swiping across the tip. 

It should be your hand. And he’s well aware of this, but he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine before moving on to the main event. You extend your arm in front of you, but Joel doesn’t allow it.  “Ah ah,” he tuts, slapping your hand away, “You can go play with one of your rubber cocks. Since you love ‘em so goddamn much.” His words are biting, acrimonious.

He’s throwing you off. Joel, who says he couldn’t give a “fiddler’s flying fuck” about you, is upset that your pleasure wasn’t brought on by his hands today. Joel, who barely tolerates you. “Joel, please, I want you. I’m sorry,” you cry, “I need you, Joel, been missing you so much. Please, Joel. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Layin’ it on pretty fuckin’ thick, sweetheart.” 

You cry in frustration, “Joel, I’m sor-”.

“Cut that shit out. You ain’t sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, ‘cause now you’re in trouble,” Joel keeps stroking himself, taunting you, “This is on you.”

Joel thinks back to when he was a teenager, when his father caught him with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, how his father���s punishment was to make him smoke the whole pack, and how before he was even halfway through the pack the nicotine had made him sick to his stomach. 

Same idea.

Still stroking himself, Joel grabs one of the vibrators sitting next to you. It’s a wand type, light pink in color. He holds down a button and it buzzes to life, “C’mere. Between my legs. Do it now,” his voice is stern, authoritarian. You assume the position. Joel parts your legs wider, pulling your knees back before guiding your hands to hold the backs of your knees, keeping you open nice and wide for him. “You stay like this. Don’t move.” His flannel feels soft and warm on your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. Wordlessly, he brings the vibrator to your core. He drags it over your lips, through your folds, coating it with your arousal. 

Joel circles your clit with the toy now, and your hips to follow the sensation. The way you’re sighing, moaning, grinding with his movements, Joel can tell you haven’t picked up what he’s putting down yet. 

Poor thing. Fucked herself stupid on all these plastic cocks. 

“Yeah, Joel, like that. Fuck, feels good,” you breathe, “Right there. S’good.”

Joel’s silence is disconcerting. There’s no dirty talk, no snide remarks like usual. But you’re too worked up to worry about why. Within seconds, you’re coming. Sweet, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as you ride out your high. 

Joel presses the button on the vibrator, taking it up a notch. The buzz is louder, the feeling intense, nearing on too much. Finally, he speaks, “I really do hope your thievery was worth it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a low, raspy voice behind the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, exactly how many batteries am I short?” 

It’s getting uncomfortable now. You wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and try to pull him away from your core but he doesn't budge, “What? Joel, let up.”

“What’d I say? Hands on your thighs. Y’don’t move,” he barks. You do as you’re told, and he hums in satisfaction, “Now answer my question.” 

“I don’t know, six? I–oh, fuck. I was gonna give them back. Please, Joel, I can’t– ”

Joel scoffs, “Six? You stole six batteries. What, were you stashing them for winter? Squirrelier than I thought.”

“No, just…you know how sometimes, they-they-they, and they’re old, so–Joel, m’serious–”, you whine, almost pleading for mercy from the overstimulation he’s causing.

Joel pulls the vibrating wand from your core, and you exhale in relief, resting your head back on his shoulder. He’s showing you mercy. Or so it seems. 

But the sound of the vibrator clicking on is back in an instant. Slightly different pitch this time. You pull your head off his shoulder and watch in shock as he guides it to your pussy, notching the longer end inside. He doesn’t bother going slow as he parts your insides with the toy. You worked yourself up plenty.

“Whatever. Damage is done. So here’s the deal,” Joel starts, “You’re gonna come for me six times, one for each of the six batteries you stole from me. You’re gonna keep count, too. Got one down, right?” but you’re a mess of whimpers and whines, which is the wrong answer, “Or are we doin’ more?”

“One, one, we’re at one. Oh, god. Joel, please. Please.”

“Y’don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” Joel mumbles. His hand crosses over both his and your bodies to hold your jaw firmly, keeping your sight set on the picture between your thighs. The toy sliding in and out of you, wet and sticky with your juices. The shorter end sliding over your clit. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. Within seconds, you’re seeing stars as Joel fucks you through it. 

“Count,” he demands. “T-two,” you moan, but Joel doesn’t relent. A third washes over you just as quickly as the previous one. “Three, s’too much Joel, please,” you beg.

“Quit whinin’,” he mocks, “I’m goin’ easy on ya, considering the fuckin’ stunt you pulled. You wanna make it more?”

“No, please. M’so tired.”

“Quit your whinin’. S’a punishment. Ain’t supposed to feel good,” he growls, “You’re gonna give me my batteries’ worth out of these little fuck toys. Make you come until you can’t fuckin’ walk.” You’re still holding your knees back as Joel fucks you through your third orgasm. The hand that was holding your jaw is now traveling lower, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples. Hot, salty tears of overstimulation and exhaustion roll down your cheeks. You’re shaking, trembling, and he knows it’s all too much. He wonders how many times you came before he showed up. So Joel decides to show a bit of mercy, feeling that pulling three orgasms from you is sufficient enough. For now.

He pulls the toy from your pussy and tosses it on your nightstand. He gives you a moment to breathe, to let your legs down. He rubs deep and firm circles into your sore, aching hips before lifting your limp, pliant body up to straddle his lap and face him. His eyes are soft and sincere, his quiet way of telling you he’s still here. And when this is all done, he’s gonna take care of you.

He’s still gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, though.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he tells you, “Almost there.” You nod and Joel lifts your hips, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and pulling your aching pussy down onto his cock with a soft groan, slower than he did with the toy. He knows you’re sore. 

He fucks you deep and hard, just how you like. You fall forward, resting your forehead on the thick line of muscle between his neck and shoulder. Whimpering his name into his hot skin, moaning somewhere between agony and ecstasy, “I-Joel, I'm serious. It’s t-too much, please.”

“I know it is,” he whispers as he bounces you on his cock, chasing his own release, hanging by a thread with the way you’re squeezing around him. You think Joel is feeling sympathetic maybe, as he decides to offer a compromise. “I’ll make–oh, fuck,” he gasps, “Make ya a deal.” You mumble incoherently against him, and Joel sits you upright, his cock stiff and filling deep inside you. 

“Right here. Look at me,” he breathes out, gently gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. You look at him with burning, tear stained eyes. He can see the exhaustion on your face. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he coos, “How many left you owe me?”

“Three,” you answer, breathlessly.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly, “I know you’re tired, honey. Probably pretty sore. S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Christ, poor thing. What a mess you got yourself into. I know you didn’t mean to, hmm?” You nod in agreement quietly as he fucks you a little more gently, offering you a slight break. “Just curious, wanted to have some fun, huh? I know how ya are,” his tone is soft and kind, but still teasing. 

You smile with a slight shrug. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for stealing, and you only have to give me one more tonight. Just gotta apologize, real nice f’me.”

“Mmm,” is all you can muster. You’re so spent, muddled and incoherent noises seem to be the only sounds your voice can make. 

“Words, c’mon now, baby. ‘I’m sorry, Joel’,” he instructs you.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you repeat, “For taking your batteries.”

“There ya go, sweetheart. That's it. Good girl,” he praises.

You sigh and collapse on his chest once more as Joel snakes a hand between your bodies. He finds your clit, his fingers warm and soft. With your face against his body, you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers begin rubbing slow, precise circles over your aching clit. No toy in the world could compare to the way his touch makes you feel. 

Just one more. 

He starts to fuck you deeper again, his free hand sliding up your up to grip around the base of your neck as he thrusts up into you, bouncing you on his cock. You’re liquid in his hands as he continues to steadily work your clit. That all too familiar pooling heat in your core is building back up for the last time, this one far more intense than the previous three orgasms he’s pulled from you. It crashes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Joel feels your body tremble and shake, your fluttering walls choking his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him as he spills inside of you, filling you up with loads of his hot seed. 

God, how you missed that. Missed him.

It could have been minutes, maybe hours that you stayed seated on his cock like that, just breathing with Joel. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, strokes your hair.

Finally, you sit up and extricate your body from his to remove the batteries from the toys. “Here,” you hand them to him.

Joel wears kind of an affected scowl on his face as he takes them from you. “Batteries feel light.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Joel smiles softly, his eyes glimmering as he hands them back to you, “Keep ‘em. Got a stash at home anyhow. Now get dressed.” 

“Why?”

“Jesus, sweetheart. Y’got the memory of a goldfish. Cause we’re havin’ dinner, that’s why.” 

You bite your lip and smile mischievously, “Because it’s a date.”

“No. S’not a date, wiseass. You’re a lady and you deserve…hey-”, Joel stops himself, noticing the bubbling lava lamp next to you, green with blue bubbles, like the one he was eyeing back in Spencer’s, “S’a cool lava lamp. I always wanted one.”

“I know,” you smile shyly, “Picked it out for you. Just wanted to make sure it worked first.”

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[igotanidea]

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time. 

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping  “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled  her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

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[luveline]

could you pleaseee do more hotch x bombshell reader

cw suggestive —you and Hotch have a shared secret you’re hiding from the rest of the team. fem, 1k

“He’s too old for you, you know.” 

You give Elle a charmed smile. “He is not.” 

“Is too.” 

“How old do you think I am, Greenaway?” you tease. “I know I look good for my age, but I’m fully developed. He is not too old for me.” 

“Who?” Spencer asks, placing down his dinner tray with a smile. 

“Gideon,” you say. “What do you think, babe, do I have a chance with our great leader?” 

“No,” Spencer says, giggling as he spears a dehydrated looking green bean with his fork. He’s getting good at recognising jokes for what they are. 

As the younger (but, despite Elle’s insistence, not young) crowd, you have complimentary avoiding of work to do, free with your employment. You spend your lunch hour trying to stretch it into two, driving Gideon insane, and prompting Hotch to come and find you. He hasn’t appeared yet, but when you check your watch you’ve got about ten minutes left until you need to get back. 

“The line was so long,” Spencer says. “They could reduce the foot traffic in here by half if they had two people working the register.” 

“Maybe if we had our own offices we could eat our lunch alone from a brown paper bag like everybody else does, and we wouldn’t need to line up,” Elle says wryly. 

“You don’t like lining up like middle schoolers?” you ask in feigned shock. 

“I don’t,” Spencer says earnestly. 

“She’s being sarcastic,” Elle says. “You couldn’t tell?” She looks over your shoulder suddenly, but there’s a velvet voice in your ear before you can turn around.

“Can I borrow you?” 

You smile because he can’t see it. “That depends, Agent Hotchner, will I get to finish my lunch?” 

You don’t have a tray in front of you. It clearly doesn’t matter to Hotch. “I’ll take care of it.” 

You’d let him drag you around by the collar, but that’s none of his business. You turn to meet his eyes over your shoulder, disappointed that he’s already a few steps back waiting for you to stand up. 

What Elle doesn’t get, what nobody seems to see but you, is that Hotch had no need to lean in and talk so close to your ear. He could have sent you an email, paged you, and he’s here in the cafeteria waiting for you to follow him out. 

You send both Elle and Spencer a suggestive look and climb off of the bench. Hotch senses when you’re near rather than looking, starting out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He does a sharp turn you aren’t expecting to the photocopying rooms, where you refuse to go, lest you get killed by a falling stack of printer paper. One minute you’re walking together and the next he’s taken your hand and pulling you into an alcove, suddenly sliding his hand behind your back. 

“Aaron–”

He dips his face down and kisses you. It’s surprising and not, one slight nipping kiss before he looks you in the eyes. He’s asking if you’re alright to be kissed, and if it’s him, he can shove you up against a wall —you lift your head and he pulls you right back up to be kissed again. His hands slide over the tight fabric of your blazer and hold you chest to chest, his nose crushing yours, his lips unwavering. Pinpricks of heat ricochet from your mouth to your neck, a shudder he feels that has him laughing hot against your lips.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” you say, weaving your fingers into the soft crop of hair behind his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He lifts his hand, cleaning the smudge of your lipstick with his pinky finger, before stroking your cheek with his knuckle.  “What sort of note was that, this afternoon? Why do you think that’s alright to leave at my desk?” 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask, dropping your hands from his hair to poke at his waist. 

“I hoped it was you,” he admits. He looks like he might say something else, but he steals a rough kiss instead, and then another. 

“Okay,” you say, pleased to be kissed like this by him, “it was me. And you deserved it.” 

“Did I?” He takes your face into two hands. “Did I?” 

You stutter momentarily at his repeated question. “You– yeah, Hotchner, you did. It was supposed to be nice, like a promise.” 

“Are you promising?” he asks, giving your cheek a sweet, gentle stroke with his thumb. 

You kiss his nice jaw, ruffle the hair that curls over his forehead playfully, and laugh as he catches your hand. He doesn’t grab. Hotch isn’t ever aggressive with you (though he can get a little excited). 

“Decide what you want for dinner tonight, and we’ll go after work,” he says, returning your hand gently to your side. 

“Another kiss?” you ask. 

Hotch kisses you sweetly. “Come on, honey, lunch is over.” 

“Just one more?” you ask. 

He falls for it every time. You must harvest half a dozen extra kisses, incensed because it’s him, because nobody thought for a minute he’d bend to your whims. 

Hotch doesn’t bend. He just wants you like you want him. 

“One more,” he says as you pull away. “Just one.” 

It tickles your lips. You curl your arms behind his neck and try to make it one that’ll linger, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he presses your back to the cold wall. You yelp a laugh and he covers your back with big hands, mumbling a sorry that gets completely lost. 

You don’t know how he’s going to explain this to Gideon.