#thank you Faye!!!

[iboopedyournose]

This was the reward I needed after my finals!! 🥵🥵🥵

Atonement

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony returns home early and catches you breaking his rules.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, light d/s tones, innocence/corruption kink, spanking, fingering, squirting.

Word count: 2.4k. These might as well be subtitled Faye cannot write short Drabbles

Build a blurb prompt: Anthony + 👅 smut + 😇innocence kink + 💦squirting + 🏓 spanking (from @iboopedyournose)

Authors note: Fourth 1k follower celebration fic. Betaed by the fab makaylan. This is for the lovely Emmy as she battles through her finals. I hope you enjoy <3

“Anthony!” you exclaim in shock, rapidly attempting to smooth out the bedding as he strides in, looking very handsome. He’s been away on a trip for three days, less than two weeks into your marriage, and you have missed him terribly.

“Y/n,” he greets, his brow knitting slightly, “not quite the welcome home I was expecting; why did you retire to bed so early?” he asks, obviously expecting to find you downstairs upon his arrival.

You are reluctant to speak the truth. You are not unwell or tired, not even slightly. You retired to bed to think on him, more precisely, to touch yourself and think on him. Even though he asked you not to, expressly saying he wished for you to remain untouched until his return so that you might be mindless for him. Those were the exact words he whispered in your ear as he took you on the morning he left.

He pulls off his jacket and unloops his cravat, looking at you expectantly. Like he is awaiting an answer, or at least for you to get out of bed and greet him. When you do neither, he looks intrigued.

“You seemed to call my name in surprise when I walked in. What exactly did I catch you doing?” his tone is laced with something else you can't put your finger on as he draws closer to the bed.

“Nothing,” you fib, smoothing over the bedding unnecessarily again, the nervous energy and built-up arousal making you fidgety.

“Wife,” he drawls slowly as he reaches the bed. “I know when you are lying to me,” he tuts.

Your cheeks blush hard, but you stay quiet.

“Were you… touching yourself?” Anthony questions, his pitch much lower this time, leaning over and looking deep into your eyes as you instinctually lean further back into the pillows, gripping tightly onto the cover pulled up around your neck.

“You’ve been away for three days, Anthony. I… I… missed you,” you answer honestly but with a hint of a defensive tone, staring up into his eyes.

“Hmmm indeed,” he smirks, lowering his face right over yours so all you see are his beautiful brown eyes blazing at you, making your heart pound in your chest. His gaze falls to your lips briefly, and then his hand rounds behind your neck and cranes you up slightly, your lips meeting. You make a whimper into his mouth as he kisses you fiercely, demanding entry into your mouth and swallowing your little noises. He tastes of cigars and expensive brandy.

“What did I expressly ask you not to do while I was gone?” he questions as he ends the kiss, pulling away slightly with a raised eyebrow and brushing his fingers over your face.

“Touch myself,” you exhale onto his cheek.

“And what did I catch you just doing?” He queries, resting his forehead against yours, licking his lips almost predatory. He knows; you should have guessed.

“You are home earlier than you said you would be,” you whisper, divulging the truth through deflection.

“Indeed. How many times did you touch yourself while I was away? Every night?” His questions are across your lips as you are so close you breathe each other's air, his mouth ghosting over yours as his hands are buried in your hair, holding your head.

You bite your lip.

“More than that?” he intuits. “Dear god, what have I created? I took your innocence a mere two weeks ago, and now you are touching yourself like a harlot. Is that what you are?” Anthony demands, moving to cup your jaw firmly. “Are you a naughty little harlot?” he asks again, his breathing becoming slightly laboured. His pupils dilated. His touch firmer.

“No, husband,” you whisper, this seems to be a new game he wants to play, and you are unsure that is the answer he wants from you. You so desperately want to please him.

“Hmmm, the evidence would suggest otherwise,” he hums and pulls away quickly, yanking back the covers from you.

He gasps raggedly at the sight before him. You are entirely naked save your wedding ring.

“You have been sleeping without a nightgown? Completely nude?” he growls, his eyes finally tearing from ogling your body, returning to your face. His eyes are on fire now.

“Yes, but sometimes… I… sometimes sleep with your shirts; they smell of you,” you confess quickly, lowering your gaze, almost ashamed.

“Wife,” his hand is back on your jaw, tilting your head to look up at him towering over you, standing next to your martial bed. “I think it’s time you learned when I ask you to do so something, you need to obey me. Or there will be consequences,” he warns, his eyes glittering.

You inhale sharply. “What sort of consequences?” you query, something sparking in your belly, a tang in the air that suggests they will be pleasant. His grip on your face tightens, a thumb in the divot under your cheekbone, pressing your cheek against your molar teeth.

“I will need to spank you to atone for your defiance,” he states firmly.

You gasp and stare up at him wide-eyed. You have heard rumours of this from your ladies' maid—husbands who like to provide discipline to their wives via something called ‘spanking’. You only know it as something you experienced as a child as punishment; you assume this must be something different. But you are innocent of what it might entail—yet something hot flares between your legs.

“Turn over,” he says, almost menacing, staring down.

You do as you are told, an oily feeling of fear mingled with suspense low in your belly. A warm hand touches your bare bottom, rubbing a gentle circle.

“What did I tell you not to do, wife?” he challenges his tone a little steely.

“Touch myself,” you breathe against the pillow, craning to look at him over your shoulder.

“That's correct,” his hand moves to your other cheek. “And how many times did you touch yourself while I was away? How many times did you disobey me?”

“Six times,” you exhale.

“Six times in three days?!?” he exclaims. “That is twice a day, my darling little harlot of a wife. Do you know what that means?” he checks, clawing his hand so his fingernails scratch the globe of your bottom.

“No.”

“You get one spank for every time you disobeyed me,” he tuts, “that is six spanks, three on each cheek,” he explains, his tone clipped. He leans down and whispers quickly into your ear. “Should you wish me to stop, dear wife, say red. But I really hope you do not.” As it is muttered, he is back, standing up straight.

You realise he has given you a way to stop the process should you not enjoy it. But an insistent buzz between your legs suggests you at least like the idea.

His hand raises briefly from your skin, then slaps back down, spanking your right cheek.

You squeak in surprise. Your skin tingles where he made contact, and you feel your muscles flex.

“Ohhh,” escapes your lips unsolicited. You realise this is the same action you encountered as a misbehaving child, but this experience is different—something teasing and indeed exciting. Being spanked by your husband naked in bed is a new sensation you find quite intriguing; you definitely don't want him to stop.

“I would like you to count your punishments, wife,” he lectures as his hand gently rubs where the sting fades.

“One,” you reply quickly.

“Good girl,” he compliments, and you feel a flood between your legs at his praise. Nothing brings you more pleasure than pleasing him.

The warmth of his palm is gone again then there is a mirroring smack on your other cheek. The sensation is similar, and you feel a throb at the juncture of your thighs now.

“Two.”

“Excellent. Are you enjoying learning new things, wife?” he buzzes gently, again soothing the sting.

“Yes,” you whisper quietly.

“Mmm, I thought you might.”

Then there is another spank. This one is harder than the last two; back to your other cheek. You jump slightly at the feeling.

“Three.”

Rapidly he repeats the action on the other cheek, hitting the same spot, and you feel warmth spreading there like your skin is blooming a new shade under his attention.

“Four,” you count obediently. This time as Anthony made contact, you pushed your bottom up a fraction, pushed up onto his stroke, and it did not go unnoticed.

“Oh, you are enjoying this, aren't you?” he gloats.

“Yes, husband,” you admit softly, almost ashamed but going with the feeling. He has been the person to teach you that.

“Just two more, then perhaps there is a treat I can give you, seeing as you are doing so very well with your first spanking,” he flatters, his fingers digging into your bottom a fraction as he grips your flesh.

This time you actively jump as his hand slaps onto your cheek with a sound that echoes around the walls of your bed-chamber. You make a noise halfway between a squeal and a groan at the pleasurable pain that radiates from the impact.

“Five,” you choke out.

You puff out a little air to deal with the resulting sting just as you feel his hand slip down between your cheeks and lightly brush your core. You inhale sharply, your legs parting on instinct as you press against his fingers ploughing between your lips and catching against your clit.

“Anthony,” you breathe so, so desperate for him.

“Someone is enjoying their punishment far too much,” he chuckles darkly, bending over and biting your earlobe. “I think you’ll really enjoy what comes next,” is a hot breath against your cheek.

Just as he finishes his promise, he deals your last blow. Again it is loud and on the edge of pain; you feel the sting radiate across your skin as you blow out a breath to lessen the ache.

“Six,” you dutifully end your count with a tremulous exhale.

“Well done,” he lavishes praise, rubbing your sore bottom with soothing strokes as he kisses your shoulder and up your neck to your mouth, your lips meeting in a lingering passionate kiss. “Would you like a little treat for being such a good, dutiful wife?”

Then his hand is slipping between your thighs and forcing them wider apart.

“Keep your head down but bring your knees up, please,” he orders, moving closer to your feet.

You heed his instructions without a second thought. The position feels lewd and vulnerable, your face on the pillow, your hips up high off the bed.

Anthony climbs onto the bed between your legs, and you crane your neck to look around, assuming he will remove his trousers and enter you from behind, as he has done before. You are more than ready for him, aching, in fact, from your enjoyment of the discipline he metered out.

But he does not undress further; instead, he leans over your back and places a kiss there.

“Are you ready to try something new?” he asks gently, his tongue tracing over your spine.

“Yes, husband,” you pant, intrigued.

The fingers of one hand drag across your bottom, then sink between your legs again, teasing your clit, and you gasp and push back against his feather-light touch. As you chase more, he moves, and two fingers slip inside you, sliding deep; you exhale and moan at the sensation. You make a surprised noise as he brushes a particularly sensitive spot, and you feel him chuckle quiet but triumphant against your skin. He shuffles, and suddenly, there is a rocking force on that spot inside.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself as much as him, an entirely different sensation blooming.

You feel his fingers moving in and out of you at rapid speed, the squelching noises he is drawing from your body making you blush even as you push back against his actions. You look around to see a handsome smug smile on his face as he pulls upright.

“How is that wife?” he inquires, his voice a touch breathless from continued exertion.

“What the….” your words die out on a long groan as your channel convulses tightly around his fingers, almost trying to push them out.

Your legs start to twitch and spasm, and he has to remind you to focus, stay up on your knees and open for him. All the while, his fingers push hard, jabbing against a place that feels like a shortcut to your clit.

“Ready?” he warns.

“What on earth for?” you wonder, but the answer comes with actions. You start squealing and clawing at the pillow, gripping the headboard above your head for dear life as your body writhes unbidden, an unrelenting pressure building up inside around his fingers. His thumb now catches your clit and flicks against it rapidly. You feel like you are dandling breathlessly over a precipice but scared to release, something foreign feeling so ready to burst.

“Let it go,” he instructs, and you break—a massive release of white-hot pleasure, exhaling a scream instead of fighting your instincts. Your core pulses in strong waves as you bite the pillow, and shudders wrack all of your limbs. You are floating somewhere both routed within and miles away from your overwrought body.

“Well done, darling, that was perfect,” he praises as you return to the room, feeling a wetness dripping down your thighs. You shift your knee, and it lands on a wet patch of bedding.

“What the…?” you whip around to see Anthony has pulled off his white shirt and is wiping his arm. “Anthony, what was that…?” you demand, “What is all this…?” you curl away from the spot, stunned by what you see.

“That is all you, darling,” he crows, gently manoeuvring your legs so he can wipe down your thighs. He chuckles as you spy the dampness on his trousers. “You made such a beautiful mess everywhere; you should not be ashamed of what happened, what I can make your body do. I could not be prouder,” he smiles.

Still not wholly comprehending, you curl up on your side, feeling spent and exhausted, and he spoons around you.

“Although I will have to sleep on your side of the bed with you tonight, wife, as you have made mine unusable. What a terrible shame,” he smiles warmly against your neck.

“What about you, husband?” you ask drowsily, feeling something hard and hot pressed up against your bottom.

“You can wake me up with your mouth on my cock,” he murmurs gently with a yawn.

“Sounds nice,” you hum sleepily.

“Yes, it truly does,” he opines as you both slip into a slumber wrapped together.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

[the-raging-tempest]

💕💕Miss Lariel done by the lovely @faepixel 💕💕

[daeneryseastar]

harry and bethany as book!snowstorm oooh we coulda had it all....

don’t remind me 😭 but yes they would be absolutely perfect for the two of them. it’s so disappointing that it won’t happen.

just look at their combined beauty:

i’m forever SOBBING

[drunkchasind]

Faye, as seen by @barbecutie 🖤💛

[crescentlyautumn]

I am looking at @emberfaye @the-cookie-of-doom ,and @snickerdoodlles specifically for this one. (Look at what you three have done!… thank you.)

Kim wanted to collapse after his day. Filming for a music video three days in a row was not fun. He didn’t want to see another makeup artist for the next week. And he felt like he’d bust a camera into little bitty pieces if one appeared right now.

He stripped almost immediately after entering the apartment him and Chay shared, and scrubbed layer after layer of makeup from his skin, as well as whatever they had put in his hair to set it this time. Once he was feeling somewhat normal again, Kim pulled one of Chay’s t-shirts from the closet on over his head, and breathed deep.

The scent of Chay was magic at making him feel more relaxed – and until Chay came back from classes, this would have to do. Slipping on some old sweatpants, Kim returned back to the bathroom to scrub his mouth clean of the dry, icky feeling of the day.

As he was preparing his toothbrush, he saw it – his bare neck. His agitation and grumpy mood now doubled. Chay hadn’t left a single mark in days because of this shoot. Not a single hicky or bite mark colored his neck, and it honestly made Kim feel off.

Wearing Chay’s marks was grounding. It was something that made him feel special and wanted. To know that he was so loved and important to someone, and that they wanted him to know it every time he looked in the mirror. It made Kim feel something curl up warm and tight in his chest seeing exactly where Chay’s mouth had laid claim to him.

And now he felt cold and bare looking at his perfectly flawless neck.

Kim brushed his teeth at lightning speed, before padding back out and curling up on the sofa in the living room. Kim tried not to think about it. His leg bounced as his feelings intensified, and no amount of tv or doom scrolling on social media could stop it.

Kim was a dog with a bone. A very Chay-shaped bone, and he wasn’t going to let it go for anything. Checking his phone, Kim saw that Chay still had about an hour left before he’d be back.

Kim could do this. He could last an hour.

Kim moved into the kitchen, threw himself into cooking a meal, but his mind immediately went back to Chay.

Had Chay ate? What would he want to eat for dinner? How hungry would he be? Too hungry to mark his-

Nope! Kim left the half-cut vegetables sitting on the cutting board, and moved back to the sofa to stop his thoughts. He picked up his guitar and began to idly strum some chords. His fingers moved, but his mind stayed exactly where it had been – pacing an ever growing worn spot on his mental carpet.

Chay would think he was needy for wanting him to mark him first thing when he got home. Was he needy? No, he just liked his boyfriend’s mouth on him. That was totally normal and not needy of boyfriends, right? Wanting his skin littered with proof that Chay wanted him, as much as he wanted Chay, was absolutely normal and not needy.

Kim – lost in his thoughts – almost missed the sound of the locks on the front door disengaging and opening. Almost. Bolting up, Kim half ran to the entrance and felt his body react accordingly to seeing that familiar mop of black hair, and large doe-like eyes.

“P’Kim! Your back-oof!” Chay’s words were cut short as Kim crowded him against the wall. Kim crashed their lips together, and felt the all-too-familiar zing of electricity shoot down his spine as he did. Kim felt the way Chay’s body vibrated under him as a series of giggles slipped past their moving lips.

Pulling away, Chay finally let out the last bit of his laughter. “I think you missed me,” Chay teased.

Only a lot. Kim’s brain supplied for him before he could shoot it down. Kim moved to resume their previous make-out session, but was stopped by Chay tugging at the back of Kim’s hair. Kim let out a small hiss – not because it hurt, but because it sent a whole new wave of pleasure through him.

Chay’s eyes had darkened, and he looked somehow sinful, yet adorable, as he cocked his head to the side to look at Kim. Tugging gently at the hair still trapped between his fingers, Chay scanned Kim’s face, looking for something.

“What is it you want, love?” Chay’s words sent another zing down his spine, but also a lick of something bitter with it. Why did he have to say it? Why couldn’t Chay just know what Kim wanted and do it? He probably did know, but Chay wanted Kim to tell him, but Kim didn’t know how.

He couldn’t just say “mark me till I know I’m yours without question,” because that was definitely needy. But he also knew Chay would like that. Chay would definitely, positively like that.

Kim felt a few more tugs on his hair, as Chay waited for him to find the words, which were proving difficult to get out. Swallowing a worrying amount, Kim finally found his voice, “Mark me. Mark me till I know I’m yours.”

“Good boy,” was the last thing Kim heard Chay say, before he felt the warm and wet suction of Chay’s mouth on his neck. Kim was in heaven as Chay sucked and bit at his neck. He didn’t care about the sounds he was making or the fact he was basically clawing the wall behind Chay.

It felt glorious to finally have the thing that he most wanted and the knowledge that after Chay was done with him, he’d have the most beautiful necklace of proof that Chay loved him, and that he was Chay’s. And that was exactly what he always wanted. Forever.

[this-blog-needs-a-new-name]

GAWD WHO DO I HAVE TO FK FOR THIS KHUN NUENG TO BE IN AFFAIR!! 😭😅

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMhDorawc/

[melonsodatears]

poof!

[malachite-iiarie]

Nonsensical Cowboy Bebop Rant:

I just finished the show for the first time and my brain is melted so buckle up because I wasn’t expecting a full on philosophy debate regarding those who are trapped by their pasts, those who are trapped by destiny, and those who are free because they truly “go with the flow” or are able to let go. Starting with the last because it’s the easiest to make sense of-the only people in the end who actually seem content with themselves is Ed and Jet. Jet is the only person on the ship who is actually able to let go of their past (literally since he throws the watch). And although he keeps his metal arm we actively watch him show peace to the man who shot him. Ed is what Spike is trying to be, the only one actually able to go with the flow. I was a little pissed at the way they wrote her out, but honestly now I don’t see any other way they could have done it. She left the way she arrived, a complete enigma who followed her own rules but not because she was stubborn, because that’s just the way she is. And if course the character that goes with her? The one we know almost nothing about-the one with literally no past. Faye is trapped somewhere between her past and present. She desperately holding onto her past because she doesn’t know it, but I’m the end decides to let it go for what she has in front of her. A complete contrast to her actions for the rest of the show where she’s running away looking for her home even though she’s always welcomed back to the crew with open arms. Spike is always trying to project calmness and even describes his fighting style as moving like water, but I first got concerned for him not in the first Vicious fight, but the fight against the big assassin top hat guy. It’s the first time I think we ever actually see him get nervous. And it’s versus a man who is held in a death grip by his past. Also the whole cat thing, I’m certain there’s something there my brain is too rotted to realize. Spike is just running away from his past while meeting a bunch of people dying for the future (like the brother on Venus and Julia). And the moment he turns to fight his past he falls too. There’s that whole thing with the stars too. Representing our guardians or the spirits of warriors and when we die they fall. And the fen shui guy saying he changed the story and had his daughter show up but Spike says she showed up on her own. No one can write your destiny for you. And the way the music not only introduces the vibes of the characters and the message of the episodes, but it is completely silent during any fights or serious/emotional scenes. And I just thought about how the syndicate is trying to control everyone’s past and futures and I don’t know how that fits in there too but I’m sure it does. Idk like I said my brain is rotted and there’s probably so much I missed too and it’s only 1 season long but *aaaahhhhh*

[frumplebun]

mini comic thing I did last christmas with my warrior cat ocs, duskwing (black & white) and ottersong (brown)... thought I should post it here for the first day of pride month ^^

[fayes-fics]

Look at my pretty desktop.  🫶

Thanks to lovely @d-caryophyllus, I took their amazing art for my fic and turned it into a wallpaper to keep me motivated to write 🧡🧡

[fayesdiary]

Just got this amazing Faye/Rinea commission from @seibaagoesbaah!

Please commission them, all of the money will go to Palestine in eSIMS/URNWA!

[daeneryseastar]

I wouldn’t look too much in Aemond calling Alicent “a fool”. It’s pretty obvious this is going back to Ryan’s bs about there still being hope for Rhaenicent 🤮

Look at poor baby Alicent being disrespected by the men around her 🥺

This is why she’s going to abandon Team Green for her darling Rhaenyra 🥰

I know 😭 I’m at a point where I don’t give a fuck what they do with Alicent anymore, but they’re going to be in some deep, deep shit if it translates onto Rhaenyra. Especially since she’s the first person in the entire conflict to go through such extreme loss. Granted, i’m preparing for the ultimate wet mop off between them just in case.

[drunkchasind]

And time no longer matters ✨

Commissions of Faye & Ozob by the always amazing @pointdotiozao 🖤

[brighteststar707]

I'm back with a writing question! Is there any fic of yours that you feel most attached to and why?

Omg I'm so excited to see these back! I've missed these questions dearly.

The obvious answer is Don't Say My Name. I have really fond memories of writing it and putting the whole thing together. It was one of the first times I've been so wholly consumed by a fic - not just the actual story but the writing techniques I was using. I was reading more than ever to study how to best portray the feelings Saeyoung was feeling. I read it just a few days ago for the first time in months and I still feel proud of it, and some of my favourite comments I have ever received are from this fic.

Also, fun to point out, it turned a year old yesterday!

A few more I'm quite attached to:

Philia and Caramel Chocolate - For the dialogue I wrote in both of them, I'm always so satisfied when it works out how I picture it.

Also, the newer fics I've written this year set in the canon timeline (To Disappear Under the Sun, All I've Ever Known and Daydreams) because they're the exact kind of thing I used to fantasize about before I started writing. I used to spend so long daydreaming about the moments between chatrooms that we weren't seeing, or even the backstory tidbits Cheritz fed us.

Ngl, I got carried away going through my masterlist while replying to this and you've helped me remember so many fics I haven't thought about in so long, so I have to thank you for that, Xela. I feel all warm and fuzzy now.

Your turn! Tell me about some of the fics you're most attached to! Please go into detail, I love hearing about how other people perceive their work.

[good-beans]

Interest check/scheduling poll :)

Earlier I mentioned that I wanted to get braver and start chatting more with the online pals. It's become an official new year's resolution, so here we go: I'm going to set up a little discord server where we can chill and do art together!! You don't have to do art, but it'll be open for everyone to stream their screen so it'll feel like An Event rather than just an awkward phone call, haha. You don't even have to talk, you can just vibe. I'm not quite confident enough to do games yet, but I want to work my way to that 👍

If this was something others were interested in, I was wondering what times work for people. I'm making it a poll for ease, but feel free to reply if there's more detail. My schedule's pretty free so I can work with you guys. I'll try out a few different times as we go! I'm setting the poll for a week but I'll probably reach a conclusion in just a few days.

Time converter because I'm in EST lol