Anthony Bridgerton Smut - Tumblr Posts

I became obsessed so easily it’s embarrassing 🧍🏾‍♀️ anyways ahahah I want him 🥴

day 8: anthony bridgerton

word count: 1150 words

pairing: anthony bridgerton/reader

warnings: smut!, breeding, penetration, fingering, innocence kink (blink and you’ll miss it), loss of virginity

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Victory indeed || A.B

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Plot : You are on your way to steal the mallet of death but Anthony gets there first, change in plans— romancing lord Viscount.

Warning: NSFW content ahead!

Rigel's note🪩 : This is inspired from happily ever after, there's quite blood shed for mallet of death. Yeah Colin is love <3

The last bits of doubt left as you shifted Anthony's arm off your waist, slowly pushing your body down and further till you were out from his grip, he almost looked innocent, sleeping and bed soft, his mouth curled in a dream like smile but you knew better than that. last time Anthony, like lord Viscount he was, stole the pallet from your wardrobe.

And the year prior, Daphne showed her Bridgerton colors, involving the Duke himself in her malice plans.

You couldn't help but smile, thinking your bridgerton were showing up too, the floor was frozen underneath your step but you thought about the victory tommorow, the look on Anthony's face would be priceless, wrapping your cloak around yourself and closing the door soundlessly as you ventured out in the corridor, the moon was high and the air was chill. If inside the Aubrey hall was cold then you weren't up for the chill outside, a shiver ran down your spine as you stepped out in the moonlight, taking the back route, just in case. The shed stood there in the bleak light. You fiddled for keys and it didn't make sense when the wooden door was unlocked, maybe Johnny forgot to lock it, anyway, all more easy. The door creaked in the silence and you couldn't care less, there was nothing between you and your victory black mallet and—

Your breath was knocked out of you as if your lungs were punctured, a gasp of white mist left your mouth at the sight of your husband, leaning idly against the wall.

" I... Anthony?! " You blinked and unblinked and he was still there, smiling.

" What are you doing here wifey ? " He cooed and it didn't help the terror that seized you.

" You knew ! " You hoped it wasn't as shaking like it felt in your throat, Anthony ran a hand through his hair and it all made sense, damn his dreamlike smile, damn you lord Viscount.

" You wound me baby, do you want me to tie you until the game tommorow, tell me, would you like that ? " He smiled all the while, faking a frown as he narrowed his eyes to your silhouette in dark.

" So you would guard the mallet all night ? " You wouldn't let Anthony win this time, it was coming on your pride now, also the love making that followed where he called you all those petty names. The last he called you runner up. No, you would win this time.

" Or I could tie you up, I like that better." Anthony suggested smugly, propping on top of the desk and flashing an erotic display of thigh, change of plans.

" My lord..." You whsipered, all seduction placed in one basket and all smugness was dropped when Anthony's lips parted.

" Do.not." he shuddered but you hit the nerve, moving slowly in your shaking steps, cloak dangling behind you.

" Anthony, these games are absurd. " You stiffled the laugh that burnt your chest, heart heaving and thudding inside your ribs.

It almost didn't work the last time you caught him stealing the mallet, Mrs.Wilson came at a very wrong time.

" It's not working." He assured, to himself mostly but his hand reached for your body all the same, betraying every word he said as he pulled you closer, face mere inches away.

He wrapped his big arms around your waist and cocked your head sideways.

" What about..." You paused, bumping your nose to his cheeks as he sniffed the moon shadow out of you, his lips tried to claim yours but you liked playing games. The ones you could win.

" About what ? " He asked breathless, his long slender fingers undoing the knot in frantic rushed movements. It was no use.

" I was thinking about...we don't have a daughter." You hoped nothing was drowned in the moan that left when Anthony bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder, he looked up with a glint, it was the most sincere set of eyes you had ever seen, also the lustiest.

Anthony could do both, have you screaming his name and worship you all the same.

" Take the mallet...take everything baby. " He kissed you, hard and crashing, like he couldn't get enough, you couldn't get enough and it became too restless for games and victory. Your body oozed with goosebumps and every single thought evaporated like mist and memories.

Anthony dropped the knot and pulled the cloak up from your head and you easily gave in, throwing your hands up as the satin fabric fell on the floor. Anthony hummed in desire.

You felt the cold air circling your body but as soon as Anthony's mouth kissed the exposed skin of you breast, it was gone, nothing mattered than him and his filthy demanding mouth.

" How beautiful you would look with our baby in your belly." He whispered against your skin and you shivered at the sensation.

His palm gripped your hips and lifted you on the desk, turning the dynamics and you cursed under your breath when his unholy fingers pinched your nipple, hard and raw.

" You like that ? " He breathed, undoing buttons of your nightdress like he was made for it, he was merciless sometimes, taking pleasure when you screamed his name and teasing you later, " so needy for me baby ? "

" An.. Anthony." You hoped he heard the plea, his thumb made circles in your inner thigh but never touching where you wanted him the most, " baby.." you buried your face in the crook of his neck and even so, you could hear the smile that crossed him, cocky and devilish.

" Say it wifey, say it nicely with your sweet mouth." He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to face him, eyes locked as his head leaned down, his darted his tongue, pink and wet, the wonders he could did with that, he licked your one nipple while the other was tucked between his two fingers, pressing them together and you screamed, almost embarrassed but Anthony liked that, he always did.

" What's the word ? " He looked up smugly, pressing the tip of his nose to your nip, a smile quirking up. Fuck you Anthony!

Your brain short circuited as he tickled more and more and it became too much to bear.

" Plea... please baby, please, please —" he heard the plea and his mouth opened, taking in your soft flesh and humming in delight, kneading the other so it didn't miss his attention. He wasn't biased when it came to your body, giving everything his full attention and torment. You threw your head back at the sensation that vibratated in your body.

You grabbed his hand that glided on your bare thigh to guide him to touch you where you needed him the most, his teeth nibbed, not harder but enough to make your eyes watery as he slapped your hand away.

" You get the mallet, I get what I want, win win Viscountess." He kissed your cheek open mouthed and his desire was pressing hard against you.

" Fuck me." You said, flushed and dazed and Anthony eye's widened before he was back to play all lord and smug.

" You always order me so." He bit his lower lip but you had enough, fuck pall mall, fuck Anthony bridgerton, yes fuck him. Now.

" Fuck me Anthony! " You almost cried, Anthony leaned further, his forehead touching yours as he whispered,

" I wouldn't be able to sto—" don't stop, then.

You kissed him hard and soft, like fireworks wrecking your brain and you tongue traced his lower lip, intoxication wasted you.

He moaned and a strangled noise that you trapped in your mouth escaped, right from his throat.

His length was pressed against your thigh and it was warm and vibrating. You swallowed like a Virgin damsel.

Anthony looked at you, not breaking the fire that was blazing between your souls as he pulled it out his erection and there, angry red tip, sticky with pre cum was buzzing to be touched and loved and he looked up in delight when your eyes widened, all of the times, it didn't matter, it baffled you just the same.

You touched the tip and he shivered at the contact, his cock gave a twist and lurked fir more.

" Do you see ? " He was panting, shaking with his words as if he would fall if he didn't hold his breath, " see it ?! How much I burn for you, how much I want you ? " He shaked his head and touched his tip to your belly, soft and burning.

" No." He laughed humourlessly, his hand pushing your body to lie down on your back and you followed, taking a huge breath as Anthony grabbed your dangling ankle in a yank, bringing it around his neck.

He then kissed your knuckles softly, whsipering sweet nothings tenderly in your bones.

" I would give you anything my sweet love, you just have to ask...mallet ? I would give you my soul if you had asked. Anything for my baby love " He said, you felt your body tremor as he teased his tip at your insides, Anthony inhaled sharply as he entered you, warm and slick as oil. he entwined your fingers together.

" So good...so good for me baby." He moaned as he soft thrusted once, twice and until you were numb for anything, his words were halo in the dark, beaming silvery glow and then came one hard push and you arched your back as the pain waved in pleasure.

" Anthony..." You moaned, " oh god ! " Your words mingled in blasphemy and Anthony smiled in victory, pushing harder and harder as your hips rocked and roll.

" Say my name...say it." He demanded, your nails gripping at his shoulder so hard that it would scar, he liked it.

" Anthony...oh lord... Anthony." You screamed and chanted and you believed he heard the worship, the fate you had in him, and it didn't matter if anyone listened, let them, you thought, Anthony was a force to be reckoned with, a storm you never minded to be wrecked in. A beak of sweat glided from his forehead and dropped on your belly.

He was still pushing in a angle that had you seeing stars and cosmic love, he bend down, licking it, tongue gliding across your skin, and sniffing, taking in everything your offered.

He wanted all of you.

" I will fill you up with our baby, next time don't go hunting for mallet in midnight...it's so cold Darling, i would have to tie you up," He kissed your stomach bump, " and would carry you around everywhere." He said in dreamily haze that soon took over your lids.

The only sounds were erotic slapping of skin against skin and shuddering breaths, and he fastened his movements as a war cry took him over like a devil.

You head was thrown back as everything collapsed and grew again, bit by bit. Your eyelids drooped and a muffled cry came from you and then it was Anthony as he came in warm fizzy juice. Your felt the knot inside you uncoil and something loose inside you, uncorked as your juices mingled like your souls.

He pushed one more time, he always did that and then he collapsed next to you, satisfied, kissing your already bruised neck sweetly.

" Wouldn't you like that mama ? " He chorused and you laughed like a drunk, you would, a daughter with Anthony's eyes and smile, you smiled at the thought.

" Let's clean you up and take you to bed my lady." Anthony picked you, kissing you again as you giggled, he then grabbed the cloak and covered your body against the cold, you were dazed but not quite forgotten, you eyes searched for the war prize. Your mouth fell open, second time in a very same night.

" Where's the mallet ? " You narrowed your eyes at the stock of pink and blue and yellow but the black wasn't there, perhaps a trick of light.

Anthony followed your eyes and went closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulder and there, beneath the shadows was a parchment, rich and fresh.

Anthony picked it up with one hand, the other keeping you steady in his arms.

You saw the lanky words that belonged to none other than Mr. Bridgerton.

" Damn you Colin! " You growled as the mockful apology was scribbled for stealing the black mallet.

Anthony perched his lips at the heist but smiled when your whining eyes met his.

" I am going to whoop his ass and get you the mallet baby." He said, and you knew he will.

Victory indeed.

_________________________________________

Uhm Benedict bridgerton next ? Send in request ladies <3

GIVE ME MORE BENEDICT SHORTS NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW 😖😖😖😭😭😭 I BEGGGGGG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️

Just like that | B.B

Warning: 18 +, handjob, cock worshipping, first time, inexperienced!reader ( lemme know if any other ) words : 1k

Rigel's note 🪩 : just because you begged ;) [ nah, ily ] got the idea from the emoji btw, thanks for being cute Mic <333 My requests are open everyone :)

" Like this ? "

He shaked his head and in swift soundless movements, he was behind you. His whole body was pressed to you and his face just mere inches away from caressing your cheek. He was quite amused when your dropped your brush.

" Here—" Benedict picked it up and his fingertips lingered more than it should before a cocky smile made it's way to his beautiful face.

" No, no." He pouted and took your wrist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he guided your stance, " like this, see, now—" He began moving his hand that armoured around yours, the soused brush stroked against the canvas in smooth easy way.

" Is this good ? " You made the mistake of turning your face to him, he smiled when your cheeks flushed pink, a shade your brush withheld but not as bright as it glittered you. Benedict made no effort to back away, his breath mingled with yours as his mouth lowered carefully, slowly and slowly, his fingers brushed against your face, thumb caressing the colour he had painted you in.

" This is very good." He whsipered on your lips breathlessly, taking the brush away from your hand and you gave in, his eye's never leaving yours, he enjoyed it very much.

" Benedict...." You gasped when he held your waist, pulling you closer, your eye's widened and he exhaled delightfully, you could feel his hardened desire against you.

His nose nuzzled on your hot skin and you crumbled against his proximity, he was hardening more, his erection was shooting shivers down in your bones and flesh.

" I am out of my mind." He breathed sharply as he withdrew his hands, shaking from holding back from you.

His expressions were pained as he closed his eyes, what you wouldn't give to see him smile, to take this pain away.

Your eyes, shameless as they got, stared at his crotch, Benedict's jaw slacked when he caught you red handed and you looked up, too dazed.

" Funny isn't, the thing you do to me." He laughed but it was humour less, it burned with longing and want and accusation. He ran a hand through his hair, biting down his lower lip.

" Benedict I..." He looked up, you stumbled on your words, your hands trembled, you were always a curious one, but it was more than curiousity. It was desire and passion.

" Can I touch you ? " Your heart was racing so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if it broke out of your ribs and fell, instead you would pick it up and give it to Benedict, it belonged to him anyway.

Benedict blinked, once and then the corner of his lips quirked, he cleared his throat and his adam rippled, it amazed you how beautiful and rhythmic everything about him was.

" Are you...are you sure ? " He all but groaned, his eyes were twinkling, like a dream come true, you nodded.

Your hands were getting sweaty as Benedict removed his breeches, he chuckled when you stared, no, you were gawking at his length.

Benedict was well built, everything about him was big and loud and as it felt, there was no exceptions.

And the next you knew was that, he was beautiful, nerves pulsed rhythmically as his eyes dazed, his mouth curved when he sat on the couch, you were standing in front of him, still gawking.

" You are...you are beautiful." You said looking up from your lashes, realising you had said it out aloud. Benedict's grin was splitting his whole face, reaching ear to ear.

You moved slowly and carefully, wiping your hands on your satin clothes, he was too beautiful and precious, you were afraid to leave marks.

You tips touched the head of his cock, and it twitched at the contact, Benedict huffed a strained breath, he was smiling. A electrifying force jolted from the touch, shooting in your whole body, you buzzed inside out, when you looked up at him, you smiled too.

" It's... it's wet." You said, thumb caressing his tip as if it were his cheek, sticky silvery fluid beaming it up.

" Uh huh." Benedict shifted, a gasp escaped his lip as he tried to bite it down when you held him in your fist, he liked that, you could that tell behind the pain, there was pleasure indeed.

You applied pressure, Benedict's eyes softened, " move, " he moaned, cupping your hand and guiding it up and down in smooth strokes, he was being so needy and it drived you crazy, how much you wanted to please him.

" like this ? " You asked, a playful smile playing on your lips.

He nodded languidly, eyes blown when you increased your pace, he was panting and his throat started making sounds that came deeper from his body, your palm were slippery with his fluid as you were breathing hard, your stomach clenched to think how beautiful a naked Benedict would look, how perfectly you would paint him, just for yourself, your own masterpiece.

You felt your thighs tightened at how big he was, how beautiful, how soft and how warm. Benedict's head was thrown back as your heaving increased, the side of your hand hitting his groin, skin against skin as Benedict rolled his hip, he was majestic and magnificent.

" I will...I am gonna—" whatever he was going to say was drowned in a sharp cry as waves of white silvery cum flashed in a joltic eruption, it got on your face, your hands, your chest, your whole body.

Benedict was chanting your name as he came, his cheeks flushed, lids blown.

He looked wide, he couldn't hide how much he liked the sight of you like this, dripping in his cum as he tucked a strand of your hair back.

" Baby, just like that." He smiled, kissing you hard and soft, all glitter and confetti.

Hey Rigel I love ur work like so much 💓 can I request Anthony bridgerton where he is getting married and realises his love his y/n or smth similar with him getting jealous and angry when y/n and Benedict or colin fake date like tht or anything if this doesn't make sense 😭

Enchanted | A.B x you

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict x fem!reader x colin ( platonic) wc - 3.8k

Synopsis: When Aubreyton's CEO strikes a match with Miss Edwina sharma, because she's nice and kind and witty, ofcourse nothing could go wrong, except you have feelings for Anthony.

Warning :CEO! Anthony x assistant! reader, Asshole! Anthony, Benedict x sophie, Polin, bridgerton's chaotic dynamic, reader and Benedict share one brain cell that's mostly with you, alcohol, fake marriage( Anthony and reader), social media au, office au, modern setting, forced proximity, jealousy jealousy, mutual pinning, fluffy fluff, bit angst, arranged marriage, bit Collen Hoover bashing but it's a joke ( maybe not ) no Edwina bashing, scary Kate sharma, yes!!! ( Might add more later )

" Your brother is an idiot." You said, gritting your teeth as your mail blew with applicants, beautiful young ladies with peculiar yet remarkable talents.

" That." Benedict catched the grape midair with his mouth," we know of." He added with a cocky grin.

" Read another ! " Colin peppered, stealing your cookies which you ignored, sighing as you opened another mail.

" Tiana Young, twenty-one, I like to read, write and sing, my favourite author is Collen Hoover—" Benedict snorted, " —I like children and hope to be a mother, I am very soft spoken and good natured, my neighbours call me Ti, because I am a tea kinda person—"

" What's a tea kinda person ? " Colin bited the smuggled cookie, Benedict pulled the remaining to his side hastily, you felt your appetite long gone.

" It's like...they are like tea..." Benedict said, more in doubt as he looked for affirmation.

" Like milk tea or another tea ? " You asked, perhaps tea could takeaway your headache.

" What's an another tea ? " Colin's hand began to pull the tray, Benedict frowned but said nothing, taking one hurriedly and breaking it into two parts, offering you the bigger one.

" No thank-you, let me fix this Tiana's appointment." You exhaled, copy pasting a paragraph how (un) grateful you were to her for reaching out, she would soon have her appointment date and bla bla bla.

" I knew my brother was workholic but this wife hunting thingy is so exhausting." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows, you knew he was being kind but he wasn't helping at all.

" It would have been over if his requirements weren't so high, like he's not looking for a wife but some utopian woman god has yet to create ! " You were ranting, you knew, but this was the only way you could stop yourself from punching Anthony for putting you into this misery.

" Why can't he just fall in love ? " Colin looked at you and Benedict seriously, his mouth covered in crumbs, " Come on, love is like...like a force to be reckoned with ! " He beamed, ofcourse it was a force, didn't Penelope wrote something smiliary in her latest book, you somehow felt your heart shuddering, what would happen if Anthony were to be in love, some intelligent, beautiful woman, some utopian goddess of his, you didn't like the idea one bit, so you laughed it off.

" Brother in love ? " Benedict was in stitches, banging his palm on the table, shaking few very important papers that laid without any significance. They will be probably used as napkin if you weren't there.

" It's not funny." Colin got up, taking his coat, he rolled his eyes when Benedict refused to stop laughing, you shaked your head helplessly as another mail popped up, Jasmine had written a essay about global peace and increasing capatilism, you groaned, damn you Anthony bridgerton!

_

" Good evening Anthony." You tapped save on your screen as Anthony entered the office, a beak of sweat trickling down his neck line, okay, someone got either fired or roasted down to their very existence, you preferred the former.

" Good evening y/n." He looked up at you, he worried his jaw to say more but decided against it as he settled on his chair, it was very comfy and very big, years of working with him but you couldn't fathom the courage to ever have a taste, perhaps Benedict would help, maybe then.

" There are twelve appointments I have scheduled for tomorrow, Miss Becka—"

" Cancel them."

" What ?! " You almost shouted, you didn't waste your whole day to adjust and fit these pretty woman according to the time and weather and place and Anthony's mood so nothing went wrong, did he just said cancel them like it was nothing, this—

" We are going out Tommorow, it might take all day so cancel them." Anthony ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, your brain short circuited at the words more and more made some meaning, we ?! Did he, for heaven's sake said we ?

" You and me ? " You blurted and lowered your gaze when his eyes snapped to you, a deep color blazed your nose as you fiddled with your skirt.

" Yes, me and you." He confirmed and you could swore, that was a smile, a small, thin, almost unrecognisable on his always stern face, but that was a smile.

" Why ? " You closed your laptop, tucking the strands of your hair that usually came out after a long day, behind you ear.

Anthony pressed a key and it beeped, he shifted his face to you, thinking that he was almost frowning and finally, he said with a neutral face.

" I have found a match." His face gave nothing away, " Miss Edwina will be most suitable for marriage." He said it like it wasn't his marriage he was talking about, " she's very graceful and witty and would make a amiable wife and a kind loving mot—"

" Right." You snapped mid course, his mouth was hanging open with words lost in void, you knew very well Miss Edwina was a fine young lady, she was beautiful and kind and sharp at wits, ofcourse this ended your torment or perhaps began another, but not now, you needed to think.

" I..I promised Benedict for dinner. " You muttered, feeling your whole body numb as you stumbled out of your seat, Anthony watched, something glazed in his eyes but you couldn't place it, you might if you looked longer but you had no courage left now. You were almost at the glassy door, he was watching you intently and you felt his gaze burn at your back.

" You like my brother quite very much." He startled you, you paused, heart beats echoing through your throat. It was like he was accusing you, almost jabbing his finger on your chest. What does that mean ?

" What could I say ? He's very amiable." You turned to smile at him, it trembled on your lips and Anthony scoffed slightly, mouth curving in disdain but it was gone as soon as it crossed his face. Damn you !

" Have a nice day sir." You closed the door behind you, covering your face as a muffled scream cut through your cartilage.

_

" Miss Edwina ?! " Benedict almost screamed as you narrowed your eye sternly at him, he lowered his voice in a whisper, ducking his head down towards you, " sorry but Miss Edwina ?! "

" I know, I know." You swigged another gulp of the dizzy bubbling liquid that will give you a terrible headache tommorow but right now, you just wanted this uneasiness feeling to go away.

" Didn't her scary sister vowed to ruin him or something like that ? " Benedict licked his thumb, eye's watering at the spice, you loved this place's Chole bhature very much, last time Benedict cried when he accidentally bited the green masala filled chilly.

" Yeah, she refused to take ahead the Mayfair deal, or something like that, not that it would ruin anything and—" You sighed, leaning back your head as the soft music tickled your senses.

" What ? " You heard his faint murmur.

" Well Anthony was right, as soon as our team announced his engagement, ofcourse not revealing the bride, he's well trending—"

" He's always trending." Benedict groaned, chugging water as his lips were swollen with spiced heat.

" Yes, but not for thirsty things, i meant that Aubreyton is trending and our shares are touching the sky and it's a whole profitable season ahead." You ended breathlessly, you stared at him for full second before both your eye's crinkled with smiles and laughter that came from your hearts, it lightened the air somehow as well as your heart.

" You do remember I am part of the executive board ? " Benedict tilted his head with a warm smile and you shaked your head, feeling tipsy.

" Like you do anything except torment me and poor Colin ! " You pouted, feeling your cheeks flush as Benedict threw his head back and laughed.

" Poor Colin ? " He cooed, " he's probably getting laid tonight." He added with a wink, you slapped his shoulder nervously.

" Penelope replied ? "

" Ofcourse, my dear little brother wrote a whole ass three page message, with a picture of all her books that too hardcover and first editions."

" Wow." You said, impressed, Colin was head over heels, it was only a matter of time since the dazzling author knew.

" And what of Miss Beckett ? " You wiggled your eyebrows like Benedict did when he teased you, he turned a beetroot red as he fumbled with the last contents of his glass.

" She refused for a live in relationship." He said, his face grew sad and you mentally winced for putting him there.

" Oh." You nodded, Sophia lived with her evil mother who liked to see her suffer and she was, afterall, too good of a girl.

" Benedict..." You whispered when he closed his eyes softly, hiding his face behind his palms.

" I am not crying." He was. He sniffed as a few heads turned towards the pair of you, many with sympathy, probably thinking you had refused to marry him or something.

" Hey, hey, hey..." You pulled yourself as you dizzily tripped over to his side, wrapping your arms around him as he melted in your embrace.

" She doesn't understand..." He said it so muffled that it was unable to make out what he said, but you understood it anyway.

" She will, she loves you so much." You kissed his head and he nodded, tears streaking your shirt as he finally emerged with red, sticky face and puppy bright eyes.

" I think i drank too much." He admitted, you nodded, feeling yourself floating too.

" Let's call a cab, we shouldn't drive." You suggested, fiddling with cash as you payed the bill, leaving good tip for the teenager waiter, who smiled kindly at every inner joke Benedict shot.

" Uh huh." He focused hard on his phone, sticking his tongue out like he did when he was really, really drunk and or just really, felt the need to, or he was about to do something stupid, which he did.

Twelve minutes later, Anthony bridgerton was standing outside the restaurant with a heavy frown and it was strange to see him in normal clothes, like that grey t-shirt felt odd yet gorgeous and those sweatpants, you were way too drunk, you realised.

" You'll make a fine gentleman." Anthony curted his mouth, his words dripped with sarcasm that you and Benedict were too drunk to catch on.

" Thankyou, the cab idea was mine." He said smugly, ducking out when you smacked his ass with your purse, Anthony watched with wide eyes.

" Liar." You jabbed at him, he started to giggle and stumbled, taking you along before Anthony grabbed you by the waist and pulled you away from him, Benedict winked at you when Anthony closed his eyes, frustration or whatever that dazed him, his touch was electrifying, like current jostling in water.

Anthony pulled away his arms from you, his eyes strained like it pained him just the same it hurt you.

" You are wasting my time brother, get in the car." He glared, " come." He said to you, his gaze softened but that could be alcohol, you weren't reliable narrator especially when it was Anthony bridgerton.

" Well you could have refused." Benedict ran and sprawled inside like a bear, covering the whole back seat with his wasted body.

" Yes well, I didn't come for y—" he clamped his mouth in a thin line, nerve twitching on his forehead as he breathed hard, eyeing you as you ran after Benedict's seat thievery, you opened the door and his head almost snapped when he looked up you, it was a nauseous enough to make you vomit.

" Move." You pulled his hair, in no hell you will sit in the front seat, not like you haven't, but you were drunk and you were angry and you hated Anthony and you wished so much to just, to just, just once, once just, kiss him hard, that's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Leave this idiot." Anthony was suddenly behind you, he touched your elbow with same electric touch, guiding you to the empty front seat as he opened the door, you could feel Benedict wiggling his eye, you will deal with this bastard later.

" I was thinking—" Benedict started, once Anthony started driving, he was shut real quick when Anthony glared with words.

" Stop thinking." Anthony rolled the steering wheel and you looked away, those veins taunted and lured you, it was maddening and the streets were much dull and undistracting.

Benedict giggled at something he probably said in his head, you chuckled when he burped, he did too, only Anthony didn't.

" Don't you have a date tommorow with Mr. Dorset ? " Benedict craned his neck to get a view of you, two Bridgerton's eyes were too much to take as you thought hard, well yes a date, with Mr. Dorset, yes, you did remember.

" Ofcourse." You said, Anthony drifted a turn that jerked your head forward and you would have got a concussion if it wasn't his big palm that came for rescue.

" Are you okay ? " He asked, slowing down the car as his fingers pushed you back until the back of your head was pressed against the seat.

" Yeah." You confirmed, nothing was more threatening than his touch. He should bloody know that.

" Are you okay ? " Benedict mimicked and you realised he was down there, squashed on the car floor, his face hidden somewhere.

Anthony ignored him as his expressions hardened, he was breathing hard as he worried his lips, thinking and thinking.

" You do know it might take all day." Anthony finally said and you cocked your head to his side, you were drunk and well, sleepy too.

" What ? Well, it's a dinner date." You assured, Mr. Dorset wasn't letting go and a Thai curry wouldn't hurt anyway.

" Yes well, it might be very late." He was frowning now, his eyes were on the road but he would glance between nano seconds.

" Really ? " You pouted, you were way too gone now, it didn't matter, Anthony's eyes stopped at your lips and when he looked up, something changed, like it must have changed a long ago but it's colours were only visible now, like moon hiding behind the clouds, beaming but not seen and when it's finally high, hanging at sky, you blinked, expecting it to be gone, like everything, but when you opened your eyes, it was still there, as clear as ever, shimmering at you. That's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Yes.." Anthony gulped hard, pulling at Benedict's apartment, how much he wanted sophie to built a home with him, soon, you thought, soon.

" Oi y/n, I think I found your lipstick." Benedict hopped up, his face had lines where because he didn't bother to get up once he had fallen, with a shade that you never used in your whole lifetime, Anthony looked away when you tried to catch his eyes.

" That's not mine." You said, feeling anger creep up your neck, not knowing why, it's not that you were the only one who sat in his car and ofcourse you weren't his girlfriend, you weren't his friend even, he was your boss, you were his assistant, that's it, that's fucking it, you really wanted to punch his face, that's bloody alcohol, you would never drink again.

" Benedict, my brother." Anthony took the lipstick away which Benedict was trying to apply on himself, " get the fuck out."

" Goodbye to you too brother." He leaned to smooch Anthony when he hastily pulled away, growling.

" Bye bye sweetheart." Benedict smooched your cheek then and his lips only touched your warm skin before Anthony pushed him back in the back seat, it was, kinda rough.

" You are drunk." He told Benedict who shrugged, blinking heavily.

"He always kissed me goodbye." You glared at Anthony, this freaking bastard, chew on your lipstick, Idiot. You leaned down to kiss Benedict's cheek and he giggled softly, eyes locked with Anthony, his wide bastard grin flashing, glittering as Anthony eye rolled.

When Benedict was dropped, it was your turn, Anthony stared ahead like a statue, you were suffering in your own head.

The silence became heavy in air as the music was either tragic or too loud for your head and Anthony sensed the discomfort, turning it off altogether.

" What are we going to do actually? Venue deciding or something." You finally spoke, remembering how much you stared and stared when the article popped up, Anthony bridgerton looking for a wife !! You remembered the qualification list, should be well spoken, should be linguistic, should want kids, should be family loving, should be this, should be that, should have good enough hips to bear a child like what ?!

You remembered days and days when he would have his appointments, yes appointments, most of times he was out within five minutes, a frown on his face.

" She doesn't know algebra." He said one time when he came out within two minutes and you shrugged, well algebra was hard afterall.

And now Miss Edwina had ended all your miseries and torture, no lists, no more algebra's and Collen Hoover's, nothing of that anymore, Anthony would be a husband soon and perhaps he would love her, or already love her, he was so determined even when Kate sharma threatened to cut deals with Aubreyton if didn't stop sending flowers, well that was your doing, sending flowers because it was your idea, but well, it didn't matter.

" Well not the venue, but wedding ring and wedding dresses, Mother say we match and cake tasting and flowers—" we.

" When's the wedding ? " You looked at him scornfully, Anthony's eyes lowered at you as he stopped the car.

" Next week." Fuck you Anthony!

" Shouldn't you decide that with Miss Edwina herself ? " You were glad, but you had this feeling that he would be taken away from you, once married, he might not be yours, he was never yours, but still, why not start now ?

He frowned like it wasn't the most sensible and obvious thing.

" I..." He hesitated, " Miss Edwina might not want to go, since the wedding is too near and also, to keep it a private engagement."

" Oh." You didn't get a thing, your mind wasn't working as Anthony leaned down to open your door, you freezed, only your heart thudded loudly, could he hear ? What he did to you, well it wouldn't surprise you if he knew and still chose to torture your poor soul. " Why not state it publicly ? "

" I can't deal with the fanfictions." He said in matter of factly way. " And paparazzi giving Edwina trouble." Don't say her name, don't.

" Fanfictions ?! " You laughed so loud that he actually stopped thinking whatever he was, and just looked at you, as if taking in every detail, savouring them, drinking every bit of you in, he looked like he was mesmerized but that was just alcohol, just your silly heart, just you, who had read all those one shots, about you and him, ofcourse you weren't going to admit it and ofcourse you would be quite dammed if you ever saw Anthony getting shipped with Edwina Sharma, they are getting married in a week idiot, yes, but not today, not now, later, when it was time, please, not now. Later, now he was yours.

" You have a good choice either way." He was, for no reason, walking you to your door, you remembered how Benedict was practically kicked out earlier, he would tease you so much if you were to ever tell him.

" Oh please." You chuckled, rubbing your hands together in the chilly air, " I gifted Benedict onesies on his birthday."

Anthony smiled, it didn't leave his face until he caught you staring and you noticed how different he looked, when those lines were of joy instead of worry, he looked young and his boyishness made your heart do cartwheels.

" That was just a joke." He amused, " wasn't it ? " His smile faltered when you shaked your head in a no, fumbling for you keys.

" It wasn't so bad." Anthony said, somewhat traumatised, " Benedict wore them anyway."

" It had penguins ! " You cringed at the memory, a drunkish Polaroid like, blurred and saturated, it was vivid but just like yesterday, Anthony didn't dance until you were both so drunk, perhaps he smiled back than too, and looked just as dazzling.

" You are good y/n." Anthony said sincerely, " stop being mean to yourself." You opened the door but your hands freezed at the doornob, why Anthony had to cut the right wires, why he had to upside down your whole world ?

" Well, same to you Anthony." You said, he lingered on the doorway more than he should, it was alcohol, it really, really was but no amount of gaslighting could blur the memory away, you always remembered how brave you were that night when you leaned down, one step not much, and placed a small, chaste kiss, just a brush of your lips against his blazing skin. A touch to his soul, it sparkled and rose and busted into a thousand orbs and sprinkled like glitters on you and him.

" Good night." You whispered, Anthony stared, too stunned to say anything, then he smiled, small and enchanting.

" Good night y/n." His smile stayed.

The Absolute FILTH i Would do For this man

slutty drunk thought of the night is giggly drunk sex with anthony bridgerton when you're stumbling around the furniture and your clothes leaving a trail behind you and suddenly he rips the bodice of your dress because it's on the way and he got too eager to get his mouth on you 🥴 bonus if you tease him for it and he gets back at you by making you unable to utter another sentence

appeasing cruelty.

pairing: anthony bridgerton x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: teasing, foreplay/fingering-ish. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

etc: looooook i could of let this be a ten sentence reply but i just couldnt, i had to go above and beyond because im going feral for this man. also sorry for the shit regency talk lmao, i suck at it. also i’m tipsy so i’m also sorry for spelling mistakes!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

You are certain that the both of you are going to have bruises along your back sides and legs come morning with the way you’re hitting every piece of furniture on your way through the Aubrey Hall. You’re grateful for everyone else within the hall having slipped off to bed and cannot see the way the two of are devouring the others mouth; Anthony’s tongue licking it’s way into your mouth, his hands not leaving a part of you untouched, gripping your clothed breasts, gripping the side of your neck so your mouth never leaves his own unless it is for him to kiss and bite on the side of your throat, his hands trying to rid you of the rest of your garments—but finding difficulty from your descendants to your private corders, and the chairs that keep finding themselves smashed to the back of his legs.

“Christ,” he grumbles against your lips. His tone laced with a sting from the blow to the back of the leg, frustrations from not being able to devour you properly, and that gravely twang that makes your lower belly burn, makes the slick gather between your legs.

But you can’t help but laugh. Can't help the small chuckle that slips out against his lips when his hip collides with the corner of a table and his words repeat. That bubbling bliss from the drinks you had consumed earlier within the night making your chest shake with chuckles; a chest that Anthony now has his mouth on, his tongue skating across your skin, the sounds leaving your lips turning into whimpers. His mouth leading a devilish trail to the top of your breasts, your eyes closing, head bent, lavishing in the way his mouth feels, letting his arm around your waist keep you flush to his front as he continues to lead you throughout the place, his cock hard and pressed to your inner thigh; tantalizing and begging for your attention.

You feel your tailbone hit a table, a low groan from the slight pain just as quickly forgotten as you hear a rip; feel a hard tug, a pull of fabric, and then you feel the cool nip of the air within the room on your breasts. And when you look down your bodice has been ripped, barely hanging off of your body, the other fabric that had once been covering your chest now pulled down. Anthony’s mouth making it’s way across the peaks of your breasts. Wrapping his lips around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin until your it’s erect, and making you grip on the table currently pressed to your back side.

It feels too good, his mouth always does. taking passion in speaking with his mouth and tongue against your skin, the grunts and groans against you as he worships every part of your body, your being, writes a pledge of desire and so much more with the tip of his tongue. You love it.

But when you look down at him, take in the moment—and no thanks to your body buzzing off of more than liquid lust—the trail of clothes that litter the room you have currently found yourself in, your shoes scattered about, his shirt, and now your bodice that he pulled to the floor; you can’t stop the laugh that slips from your lips.

Anthony’s eyes open as he looks up at you through his lashes, your nipple still in between his lips. When he pulls off there's an obscene wet noise and his lips look swollen and red. His eyebrow is raised in inquiry, and it just makes you chuckle deeper.

“What's so funny?” His tone still holds that lust fueled edge that makes you delirious, but his mouth pulls into a sly smirk and he presses a kiss to your lips silencing you for mere seconds.

“I knew this was your favorite gown of mine, my Lord.” Your fingers find the back of his neck, letting them slip into the hair that lies at the base of his there. “I never imagined it to be that irresistible to have you rip it as if you were an animal.” You tease, “If only I had been made aware of your beastly desire before this, I would have worn something old.” Your chest bounces with how deep your laughs turn the more Anthony’s smirk switches from playfully annoyed to devilish.

“It is not the fabric I care about, my dear wife.” He presses another kiss to your lips, silencing you. “I wish to see what’s under it, to taste what's under it.” His breath is hot against your lips as he speaks, as he makes his intentions clear. The playful smile still etched on your features, there's more teasing on your tongue, more laughs and chuckles that are threatening to come out.

Anthony seeing as much, his hand coming up to hold your chin in his forefinger and thumb, “does the Viscountess find my desire funny?” He questions, “does she not know how hard it was to keep my eyes on her tonight. To see her sway around that ballroom looking delectable, all the other gentleman in attendances eyes on her as she did so. Their thoughts just as indecent as mine.” His smile is gone, his tone dark, eyes blown out with a dark lust that you should be frightened to look into. It only making your knees weak, that burning in your lower belly turning into something scorching and desperate.

You open your mouth to speak, there is a shake of your head that you want to give but Anthony's fingers stop you. The press of his lips to yours, your cheek, the skin under your ear, making the efforts moot. “Is my desire not matched?” His breath on the shell of your ear makes your skin burn hot, shiver all over. “If I reached my hand under your skirts would I find your cunt slick and wet for me?” The tip of his nose runs along the column of your neck, the palm of the hand that once rested at your breast now skating along your remaining cloths and coming between your thighs. Slowly dragging his pointer finger along your wet folds. “Mmm,” Anthony hums, you can feel his smirk against your collar bone. “You’re completely soaked, throbbing against me,” the sharp intake of breath from feeling his finger press against your clit makes any other sound, plea, statement die inside of your throat.

“And yet you tease me so,” the pad of his finger rubs slow circles against your clit; your nails digging into the muscles of his arms, your lips parted as moans flee out, lashes fluttering. “What an ungrateful wife you are.” He kisses the bottom of your lip, the ability for you to form a coherent thought quickly succumbing to the pleasures of his hand; the way his finger rubs and circles your clit. His other fingers teasing your entrance, giving you the tiniest taste of the feeling of being filled, full of him—no where near comparable to the part of him you’re now wishing for as the lust and euphoric pleasure completely takes you over mind body and soul. No, the fullness you want can only come from Anthony’s cock, the thick, throbbing appendage you can feel at your hip, that can make you come harder than any woman should dare to imagine possible.

“Not so cruel now are you?”

exquisite weather today, no? | part i

warnings : smut, dom anthony and sub reader, pet names, fluff, ben and colin being little shits, reader is kind of naive given the action takes places sometime in the 1810s.

summary : anthony does not want to corrupt his innocent little wife... but what happens when his brothers lend him a helping hand?

a/n: please enjoy part one of my new series until i am done with the james and sirius fic, thank you! <3

“You are telling me that you have not slept in that way with your wife?” Benedict stops in their way down the halls, looking very much concerned. Anthony hums, checking his clock.

“But you’ve been married for almost a year now!” the younger brother exclaims, looking up at the viscount with a frown.

Anthony smirks and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. “Not that it is any of your concern, but we do things. Together. Alone” his lie is obvious, but still, he leaves Benedict stunned in the middle of the hallway.

When he finally realises that the maids are looking at him funny, Benedict clears his throat and offers them a polite nod, before following Anthony into the drawing room.

Ah, here you are — sitting next to Colin on one of the sofas. With Anthony distracted, speaking to Daphne about the ‘Hearts and Flowers’ ball, he approaches you carefully, sitting beside Colin.

“Exquisite weather today, isn’t it?” he gives you a nod and you mirror his action, smiling, “Indeed it is, Ben.”

Colin looks between the two of you, back and forth, a confused smile gracing his lips. “This is not about the weather, is it?” he whispers through gritted teeth.

Benedict’s smile turns into a grin when the words leave his brother’s mouth. “I am, in fact, glad that you asked, Colin!” he says happily, “I came here because I need some... advice, from Y/n.”

Raising your eyebrows, you look at him in curiosity, “and what could someone such as yourself need advice for?”

Benedict thinks about it for a moment; should he say it? He means no harm but... a little fun won’t hurt... will it?

“Sex” the words leave his mouth and Colin chokes on his tea, eyes wide as he looks back at Benedict. ‘Are you mad?’ he mouths to his brother, but the second-born chooses to ignore him and look back at you. “So. Y/n?”

Benedict finds you looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pursed as you tried to search for that word in your mind, but with no results. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Ben.”

This time, it is Colin looking back at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Pardon? Anthony is your husband, there is no such thing as not knowing what sex is.. Does he refer to it differently?”

“You know... when you’re alone, naked, and he towers over you. That thing he puts in between your legs” Benedict quips, already very much content of where Colin has taken the conversation.

“He towers over me?”

The two burst out laughing at your cluelessness and, from the other side of the large room, Anthony’s brows furrow in concern.

“His cock, sweetness. What he has between his legs. I’m sure he spoils the crap out of you with it every night” Benedict taunts and Colin laughs breathily, adding on “or maybe he does not, brother. Seeing that Anthony is so busy all the time. He has more important things to take care of, I suppose.”

At this point, your eyes are teary and your hands are shaking as you listen to your brothers-in-law tease you endlessly. You are not aware of the meaning behind it, though.

In a moment, you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you up against the warmth of someone’s body; Anthony. As you look up at him, his heart shatters and his jaw clenches. “I do not know what you did, but be sure that I will find out. And when I do, I hope you will be taking a walk far away from here. More walks.”

And with that, he takes you away from his brothers and rest of the family, not bothering to excuse himself or you, his face red with hatred. He doesn’t know what his brothers told you, but he is positive that it managed to hurt you... And Anthony cannot bare seeing you hurt.

His hand grips yours tightly, in a possessive manner, not hurting you. He is always gentle with you, no matter the circumstances.

Once you reach the wooden door, Anthony ushers you into the bedroom with a hand at the small of your back, following closely behind before he closes the door.

“What did they tell you, my love?” his tone is alarmed and so are his hands, twitching at his sides.

When your eyes finally meet his, they are still filled with tears, sadness pulling at your heart. “Am I a burden to you? Am I- not pretty enough?”

Anthony’s heart breaks and he realises that he’s never seen you so sad before, not even when you were merely a couple and you had family issues.

“Angel, you have to tell me what it is that they told you. I need to know” he repeats through gritted teeth, ready to walk down those stairs and strangle Benedict and Colin.

“Sex” you repeat Benedict’s words unsurely, glancing up at Anthony. “Told me you are too busy for that. And I- you have never told me of that.”

At this point, his hands fly to your waist and he positions you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your lower body as he turns you to face him entirely. “My darling- They told you that? I-” he seems at a loss for words, and finally, his lips fall into a straight line and he lets go of your hand for a second, walking away from you, and to the floor mirror in his room. You pout as you lose his warmth, and your brows furrow when you notice him pulling the mirror towards you.

He takes his hand in yours and he helps you to your feet, your bottom lip wobbling when you catch sight of your teary eyes, but Anthony notices immediately, and his hands move to hug you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You are so beautiful” he says softly, placing a kiss on the side of your neck, nosing at your skin as he continues speaking, “Undress for me, my love.”

Breathing having picked up, your eyes widen anxiously as your hands find his. “Anthony-” “I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Trust me. Please” he pleads, his eyes looking helplessly into yours. You give a curt nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Your shaky hands move to undress yourself and Anthony helps peel off your dress and chemise, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.

Anthony lets out one of the most obscene sounds when he presses his clothed body to your bare one, and you can feel his erection pressing into your backside, not that you are aware of what that is. Yet.

“Your hand. Move it down your body” he commands rather softly, watching you through the mirror. Your cheeks heat up but you obey nonetheless, your left hand stopping right above your lower stomach, “Lower. Touch your pussy for me, sweetheart.”

“Alright” you take a deep breath, your hand sliding further down your body, resting at your cunt, your warm touch making you shiver. “Feels odd” you whine, eyes pleading as you find his eyes through the mirror.

He bites his lip, his eyes closing for a moment before he is able to look at you again. “It shall feel good in just a moment... Can- Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes, please” you whisper and his hand instantly reaches to your cunt, using both of his hands to spread you open, your folds damp and spread out for him. “S’pretty” you say absentmindedly, dreamily staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Yes it is” he hums, grinning widely against your shoulder. His middle finger taps your clit twice, and he smirks as your body jolts up. “See this, darling? It’s your clit, your little button... You can rub it whenever you wish to feel good.”

“Whenever I wish?” you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes, sweetness” he hums, his cock hardening at the thought of you wanting to touch yourself, let alone to the thought of him. “And if you want it to feel even better, you must-” with your hole dripping wet, Anthony manages to slip a digit right inside of you, causing you to gasp in both slight pain and excitement. He is finally giving it to you.

“Anthony- what is this?” you ask curiously, Anthony’s finger still inside of you, leaving you to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“Bit of stimulation before I can give you my cock, bunny. Or, as my dear brothers wish to call it, have sex” he chuckles lowly and starts pumping his finger into you, your fragile body shaking, your knees ready to give out, but you know that he is here to catch you.

“Great” you reply breathily, one of your hands slipping into his.

“You must relax, my love” he tuts, moving his finger in and out slowly, the feeling leaving you bucking your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back. “Let them enjoy the show” he eyes you intently through the mirror.

You look at him rather confused, but his other hand moves to cup your jaw and gently turn your head to the side, towards the door.

A door cracked open. Benedict and Colin.

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

cw: 18+ MDNI innocent!reader, a sprinkle of period typical misoginy and a dash of slut shaming <3 oral (fem receiving), crying, reader calls anthony “my lord”

a/n: here she is! plz be kind, writing this dialogue was painful and m’so very nervous about it ajksjsk

“and he uses… his tongue?”

daphne nods eagerly, her hand quickly bringing a napkin to her mouth, gently wiping away the crumbs leftover on her lips. “it feels quite…” her cheeks flush, “well, quite wonderful.”

if anyone was to walk by and see the pair of you, adorned in your pretty silk dresses sipping tea and indulging in strawberry shortcake, they’d never imagine the scandalous topic of your conversation. he licks me, she had said, whispering the words in a conspiratoy hush, between my legs. 

Keep reading

Be With Me

Pairing: Anthony x Fem!Reader

Rating: M (18+)

Summary: Due to a storm, Anthony is unable to sleep - you both know the cure.

It was dark in the very early hours of the morning, the windows shook with anger - the flashes of light flooded the room without ceasing. It wasn't the rumble, nor the lightning that woke you. It was your husband, Anthony, tossing his frame every few seconds in restlessness. Your brows furrowed in concern, you pretended to sleep for a little while - but his movements proved there would be no end in sight any time soon.

"Anthony?" You whispered, "What is it?"

You heard his tired sigh, "I am sorry I woke you."

"It's alright" You spoke softly, turning to look to him.

He was on his side, his head buried into the pillow. You could see the exhaustion across his features, he was desperate for rest.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You questioned, reaching to trace his jawline.

"No need to worry," He half smiled, opening his eyes, "Just be with me. I will drift eventually."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his. They were warm and tasted still of his liquor before he crawled into bed. You loved that taste more than anything. As you deepened the kiss even more, your hands reached into the thick of his wavy hair. Tugging just lightly, you heard a low hum slip from his lips.

"I have an idea" You whispered, "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do." Anthony smiled into your kiss, "What did you have in mind?"

You grinned, your hands now reaching to his shoulders. With a swift movement, you pushed him to

his back, swinging your leg over you were now placed on top of his waist.

"Now Mrs. Bridgerton," Anthony raised a brow, "What pray-tell are you doing?"

"Well, Mr. Bridgerton.." You smirked, reaching for the hem of your dress - you pulled it over your torso to bare yourself for his gaze.

Anthony caught his breath, his eyes fixated on your bare skin.

"How are you mine-" He whispered, leaning up to you.

His lips touched softly to your chest trailing to the valley between your breasts. You hummed softly, your hands weaving through his strands of hair. He kissed slowly, taking his time. You relished in the moment, craving his lips even more with each second. His lips enclosed around you, causing you to shiver at the sensation. His tongue tasted your breast with vigor, causing your breathing to become labored.

"Anthony-" You sighed, "Please."

Pulling away, he looked into your eyes - knowing exactly what that plead meant. He took a moment to ready himself beneath you and reposited the both of you for what was to come next.

"I love you, Mrs. Bridgerton." His fingers traced your lips, "More than life itself."

"I love you too, Mr. Bridgerton" You smiled down to him, feeling the warmth of a thousand suns.

His lips moved to your own, gentle at first - but growing in passion as moments passed. You felt his need grow beneath you, causing your heart to quicken. Reaching between the both of you, you grippedto his length, positioning him to your entrance. In seconds, you had lowered yourself, burying yourself until there was nothing left. The both of you elicited the sound of great need, nearly out of breath from the feeling. You began to move, causing Anthony to fall to his back on your bed. He could only gaze up to you with enchantment in his eyes. Your hips moved in a slow rhythm for his sake, but you could hardly bare it. Anthony's eyes closed in bliss, his hands gripping you just hard enough to control the steady movement. Your hands traced along his chest, taking in the sight of him was something you never grew tired of. Sounds slipped from his mouth, his lips gaped in pleasure as you couldn't go slow any longer. Your fingertips dug into his skin as you picked up the pace, you were growing tired but you didn't much care. Sounds erupted from his lips, and without warning - Anthony had flipped to your back. You had a small sigh of relief, but you didn't have long to prepare yourself. His hands gripped your own above your head, and his hips had jutted deep inside. You couldn't help but cry out, but you nodded to make sure he knew that it was more than alright. His hips thrusted with vigor, pushing the both of you quickly to the edge. Your hand reached the small of his back, holding on tight as he buried himself over and over. You felt his hot breath in your neck as he kept going, and that was all it took for yourself to let go. As it always was, heaven and earth had met you in that moment of climax, your heart nearly stopped as you clutched on tight to him above you. Only moments had passed and he followed you soon after, his frame becoming still as he released. The two of you stayed there for a moment, your breathing labored, your hearts pounding.

"Do you think that shall help you sleep?" You breathily laughed, kissing his shoulder as he laid on top of you.

"I shall think we need to do it again," Anthony looked down into your eyes, "Just to be sure."

You couldn't help but grin, kissing Mr. Bridgerton once again before you made sure he was tired. Just to be sure.

kiss me (Anthony Bridgerton)

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Lady [y/n]

+18 (sexual content, please do not read it if you are a minor)

summary: Lady [y/n] is promised to marry a French man, but she feels unprepared for her nuptial night.

notes: my first smut/sexual writing, so please be patient and leave a comment if you liked it! I'd really like to know!

words: +7.900

She shouldn’t be about to do what her heart desired — either way, there she was, grasping at her yellow and pink dress, stressing out her nerves with anxiety dripping from her face. Allowing one last glance around before coming into the Bridgerton mansion, [y/n] sighed, hoping one last deep breath would be enough to give her the right amount of courage she’d need.

The house was full, but not as full as it could be. In a corner next to the garden, sitting around a marble table filled with sweets and tea, Lady Bridgerton, Eloise, Anthony, Benedict, and Penelope could be found. That was more people than [y/n] meant to meet, but she supposed it could happen, being that the person she longed to talk to was a Bridgerton.

“Good afternoon, Lady Bridgerton, Lord Bridgerton,” [y/n] started to salute. “Benedict, Eloise and Penelope, pleased to see you all.”

They all smiled and replied, and Penelope dragged in closer against Eloise, offering the butler that accompanied [y/n] an empty space to place a chair. The visit couldn’t reckon whether she should be thankful for being placed closer to the person she wanted to talk to or not.

“What are you doing here today, dear?” asked Lady Bridgerton, with a motherly smile. Any other person in town asking that question would be considered rude, but since it was Violet, [y/n] had no thought of her being unmannered. “I thought you should be preparing for your wedding day.”

She should, by the way. Violet Bridgerton had a good point, but then what she was there to do could also be deemed as preparing for the ceremonial occasion.

“Or at least be preparing for tonight’s ball, huh?” added Penelope, noticing [y/n] had widened her eyes and seemed to be in a shocking state.

[y/n] smiled at the girl, what she supposed could be viewed as a “thank you”.

“I do have much preparing to do, for both occasions — that is correct.” She had no idea where she was going to end her sentence, “But I felt like stopping by to visit the family I love most in the world.”

Lady Bridgerton couldn’t help but tilt her head in a happy expression. She’d seen [y/n] grow up to be a beautiful lady, and in one day she’d be wed. Violet could only hope one day all of her children would’ve passed through the same process too.

“Lady [y/n] probably wants the girls’ opinions towards flowers and dresses,” suggested Benedict, speaking up. He couldn’t be farther from the truth, though. [y/n] wasn’t there for the girls, especially because Eloise was the only Bridgerton girl around, and she did not like wedding and party planning.

Lady [y/n] was there for Anthony Bridgerton.

For remarkably private and personal reasons.

“Oh, I suppose I could help as well,” said Lady Bridgeton, leaning in over the table. “I don’t suppose I’m overly out of fashion.”

“Oh, Lady Bridgerton!” exclaimed both girls that were not Bridgerton. Eloise just looked bored.

The men looked rather lost in the conversation, and they seemed to be looking for an excuse to get out of there the moment the ladies started discussing garments for that evening’s ball. Unfortunately for the men, a servant appeared with a plate filled with cookies, and so they had to wait a little longer to get out.

“So, Lady [y/n],” started saying Eloise, but [y/n] interrupted her.

“Please, call me [y/n] only,” she said, “I suppose we are very much family by now.”

Eloise smiled and rephrased: “[y/n], will your husband-to-be make an appearance tonight at the ball?”

Penelope stared at [y/n], curious, too.

No, he wouldn’t be coming along, because he was going to be merely able to arrive in London on the wedding day, more often than not just in time. None of the Bridgerton had met Lord Jean Blanc yet — and neither had Lady [y/n]. It was an arranged matrimony, a desire of a father that most longed for his only daughter not only to marry well but to marry a French gentleman, as it was his dying mother's last wish. The old lady had a thing for the French, and she had planned her granddaughter’s whole life based on her own conception. Even though [y/n] had no recollection of the old woman whatsoever, her father did everything in his power for his mother’s wish to come true.

Lady [y/n] had never objected to espousing Lord Blanc, and she was very happy to accept a destiny chosen to her instead of one she’d have to make on her own. That was until last night, when her dear mother told her what to expect for the wedding night. Oh, [y/n] was not expecting that!

She knew a simple version of what her mother had told her — she would lay in bed with her lovely husband and, magically, she supposed, she would give birth to a baby nine months later. It was that, in a way, but, Lord, there was so much more!

And her mother, deciding upon doing differently from what was done to her very self, let [y/n] on everything. All the details and positions, and she even added the father’s own personal preferences, supposing it could be the same with Lord Blanc.

Needless to say, [y/n] did not sleep. She laid awake, turning around in bed, trying not to visualize the sexual positions, trying not to feel the pain beforehand. However, her eyes could not help but wonder how Lord Blanc would look like and if he would be hairless like her father (her mother’s words).

[y/n] was in despair. She couldn’t do those things with Jean, poor man. A maid added, before breakfast upon her questions, that the French were much more sexual beings than the British, and [y/n] could not allow herself embarrassment or pain. But how could she manage that? She was going to marry a sex machine, and she was a bloody virgin!

She knew, however, a man of gossip, and that the chitchat surrounding him suggested he was as sexual as a French man. [y/n] had only one choice: talk to Anthony Bridgerton.

They were friends. They were very, very close. Yes, when [y/n] got older, being a Lady didn’t allow her much fun as being a Lord allowed Anthony, but they still talked and confabbed together almost every ball. She could ask him those things, right?

I mean, it wasn’t very “ladylike” but [y/n] supposed the whole wedding night talk was not ladylike at all, but she had already heard it. She was already in the conversation. The least she could do was ask lord Bridgerton a favour.

She tried to picture herself in front of a man she barely knew, naked with all her insecurities and stretch marks and having to do all the things her mother instructed her to do: open legs, spread arms and so on; but she just couldn’t. Saying it wasn't the same as showing — but not in any universe would she ask her mother to show her how to… make babies.

So her only option was to find a man she trusted as deeply as herself, but much more experienced in lovemaking than herself.

“…had no idea what he could possibly be wanting of me…”

“Oh, Eloise, dear! He was courting you!”

“He was not!”

Eloise Bridgerton’s shout was the phrase capable of bringing Lady [y/n] back to reality. Her courage was totally fading as time passed. She looked around, noticing Anthony and Benedict were already up and about to be gone. [y/n] didn’t even notice when they excused themselves.

“Hm, I’m sorry, girls, Lady Bridgerton, but I do need to ask Lord Bridgerton something if you…”

Mama Bridgerton interrupted with a smile and a wave of a hand.

“No worries, go. I noticed you're pensive,” she said. Lady [y/n] smiled, and with a bow, she walked away, jogging a little to catch up to Anthony.

The three left ladies exchanged glances, but Eloise was soon back talking about her last ball and the troublesome gentleman she had met. Pen and Violet kept a knowing look on their faces, as if they had tasted something in the air before anybody else.

“Benedict, huh, sorry, Lord Benedict,” [y/n] said, rambling and gasping for air, “where can I find your older brother?”

Benedict grimaced but thought it was better to simply answer than to make conversation by correcting her and allowing her to call him just by his given name.

“He’s in his office, [y/n],” he said. “Want me to escort you?”

“No need,” she replied. “I am quite certain I know this house as well as my own.”

They both tilted their heads forward, a silent goodbye, and [y/n] kept walking towards Lord Bridgerton’s office. She knew he wasn’t living at that residence anymore, allowing his younger siblings and mom privacy — or better said, allowing himself some peace and quiet.

She knocked twice on the door, afraid her emotions were talking the best of her.

“Come on in,” said a deep voice from inside.

Lady [y/n] gasped for air, a deep breath and walked in.

“[y/n], hello,” said Anthony, looking up from his papers. “What can I help you with? Is my brother gone, and you require a chaperone to walk you back home?” he asked, getting up promptly.

They were friends, but as much as a female and a male could be friends in British society, therefore it was very rare when [y/n] needed to talk to Anthony in such private places and situations.

“Oh, no, milord, nothing of that source,” she replied, grasping her dress. “I simply, huh…”

Anthony waited as she tried finding the right words.

“I wanted to ask you for a favour.”

He only kept staring.

“Yes, a favour,” she repeated, mostly to herself, as if approving of the word. “I suppose by now you are the only one that can help me. My marriage is just around the corner.”

“Tomorrow, I know,” he said, because he did, indeed, know. It was marked on his notebook, it was all his mother could talk about. And even Colin, one of his younger brothers, had written about it in his last letter. Anthony had no idea why his family wanted so desperately to remind him that his best friend was getting married tomorrow — he had already bought two excellent presents in the name of the family.

“Do you need me for something concerning your matrimony?” he asked, noticing [y/n] had grown silent.

“Precisely,” she nodded.

“Is it borrowing a carriage? We do have fine ones,” he said. “Or do you need me to walk you down the aisle? Isn’t your father supposed to?” Anthony really didn’t want her to ask for him to walk her down the aisle. He wouldn’t be able to. He’d very much rather borrow the carriage.

It wasn’t like it would hurt him to do so if asked. He liked [y/n] extremely, which could be exactly the issue. They had grown up together, he thought that was the problem. He wouldn’t want his sisters to be married to someone he didn’t know, so why would he like it when it was happening to his very best friend?

Except when he thought about marrying his sisters, he wanted to vomit and die. Now, when he thought about marrying [y/n], his heart would hurt so badly as if it wanted to jump out of his chest and go right in her hand — because it was where it belonged.

But he always knew [y/n] wouldn’t marry him, so why, why did it hurt?

“No, I don’t need you for any of those things, I’m afraid,” she said, bringing him back to the factual thing happening. She stared at his beautiful and oblivious eyes. She had to speak up. “Last night, my mama told me some things I should expect in my marriage…”

Anthony swallowed hard.

“… especially on my wedding night. I didn’t know — I don’t know — what to do about it, Anthony,” [y/n] stepped closer to him.

The viscount was finding it very difficult to breathe.

“I suppose a lady such as myself and a lord such as you should not be discussing what I’m about to say, but I… I have no one else, and I will not allow myself to walk in my nuptial night knowing nothing of what is about to happen.”

“Lady [y/n], are you… what are you asking of me?” Anthony managed to ask, gulping. He wasn’t always formal, and he didn’t call her lady when they were alone, but he just needed to put up some walls between them. Even if they were invisible because [y/n] just kept coming closer.

“I don’t want Lorde Jean Blanc to be the first man I lay in bed with. I want it to be you,” she said, all in one breath.

She grasped her dress again, and lowered her eyes to his hands, so she could not visualize what she predicted would be a disappointment on Anthony’s face. How could she? No lady would ask a gentleman to bed her. Oh, god, not ask. She had begged.

“I want it to be someone I know, and like, and trust. Because I can’t bear the idea of allowing my body for use of a French man I barely know and having to just sit still because I have no idea of what he is going to do!”

Anthony Bridgerton desperately wished he had been sitting before listening to Lady [y/n]’s declaration. Not of love. Of necessity. She needed him.

He supposed she didn’t understand what she was asking, but he did it for her. No lady walks in and promptly asks a man to bed her, not unless she sees it can be her last opportunity to do so. And even then, she must desperately desire the required man, otherwise, she wouldn’t do it.

Anthony knew quite a bit about women and their first times. He generally wasn’t up for it — the tenderness and the passion, the waiting — it all scared him very much, but there was nothing [y/n] could ask him with her hearty eyes that he wouldn’t say yes.

But how could he say yes now? How could he make love with the woman of his heart and then walk away to see her marrying someone else?

Anthony reached for her chin and leaned it up, so he could stare her dead in the eyes. She tried ducking once again, but he didn’t allow it.

“[y/n], have you ever even kissed a man before?”

She denied it with her head. “I haven’t met Lord Blanc in person yet, and I’ve always thought that being him the one I’m going to marry, it would be unfair to any other man.”

Anthony nodded.

He then held her chin tightly, firmly, and with his other hand, he grasped her waist, bringing her closer. It was simply natural to do what he did next.

His lips encountered hers, gently, almost like a singular touch of a gloved hand, just allowing Lady [y/n] the space she needed in case she wanted to press her hands to his chest and push him away. She ended up putting her hands there, but not to move him away — she just wanted to be firm, press herself against Anthony and not force him away. He was much taller than she was, which gave her a certain instability in such feminine heels.

[y/n] never expected a first kiss to be so welcoming.

Anthony took advantage of the girl’s leaning towards him and took her by the neck, bringing her closer and closer and making her belong to him with a soft opening of his mouth and an exploration with his tongue. He entered her calmly, allowing her to savour the new sensation, and then he devoured her, tongue and lips, and tightened his grip on her arms, clutching her waist. He was marking her as his, for he knew, or at least assumed, that she would walk away altogether after that.

Neither of them had noticed time passing, minutes felt like seconds, and without [y/n] observation, she was leaned against the bookshelf Viscountess Bridgerton kept full of new books.

That was enough to light her up.

“Huh, Anthony…” she whispered, not noticing her voice would be different after minutes of kissing. “Should we be doing it here? In your mother’s home?”

Her words confused Anthony, and he was not up to letting go of kissing her neck. “Doing what?”

“Deflowering me,” she said, nonchalantly.

Anthony immediately stopped. His hands were still on her skirt, keeping one of her knees up and open for his touches, while his head, bent into the crook of her neck, found a way to face her. The word choice scared the hell out of him.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Should I not have asked?” she did not keep her questions to herself. “Were you in complete control while kissing me?”

He gulped.

“That was more than just kissing.” And he had, in fact, lost control back there, but he was not about to admit it.

“What would you have called it?”

“We canoodled with each other,” he said. “And I recall some social parcels of London calling it ‘make out’ but it seems unfit.”

“Why?” she asked, lowering her knee and adjusting her skirt.

“Because I didn’t make you. I destroyed you.”

She was positive he was right. What she didn’t know was that she had destroyed him too.

He ran his fingers through his hair, waiting for her to disappear, regretful and resentful towards him, but she did none of the sorts.

“Do you have a mirror here?”

“What?”

“A mirror. A looking glass. Do you have it?”

Anthony held in the urge to smile. “No, I suppose not here.”

She pressed her lips together as if thinking what she could do. To save herself? Anthony thought, but did not ask. He so desperately wanted to ravish her right there and then. Maybe even deflower her, as she put it, but then he would need a safer space than his office in his mother’s residence.

“Well, then you’ll have to be my looking glass. Step closer,” she demanded while combing her hair with her fingers, trying to pin the left out parts.

“How’s that going to work?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Anthony gulped, getting suddenly nervous.

“With my appearance,” she added, noticing his jitteriness.

“You have, hm… you have something on the corner of your mouth,” he said, nervously.

“Where?” she tried to clean it, presuming it was her makeup blurred, but Anthony’s expression appeared to be that she wasn’t cleaning it at all.

He decided to clean it himself upon her request.

Terrible idea.

“Hm, [y/n],” he uttered.

“Yes, Anthony.”

“Why me? Why ask me to…?” he wasn’t able to say the words. “Are you sure of this?” he asked lastly, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t want to hear her saying she didn’t prefer him much more than he was her only option. Or it could’ve been Benedict, but Anthony was very glad she picked him.

She seemed to think before answering. “I picked you because it was only natural. And I am certain of this because I cannot face my husband unaware of what he’ll do to me.”

Anthony shook his head, still helping her adjust her visual aspect.

“Besides, I heard the French dislike oblivious and non-sexual girls.”

That was enough for Anthony.

“Then why, honestly, why are you marrying him?” Marry me! he wanted to add.

She shrugged. “Because he’s there. He wants me. Father sends him paintings of me all the time, and he still wants to marry me after seeing how I am. I know paintings are not the same, but well, people here in London are seeing me for who I am, and they are still not picking me.”

“Perhaps because they know you are engaged?” suggested Anthony, because that was his very reason.

“That’s not it. If they wanted to be with me, they would’ve come forward. An arranged betrothal with a French lord wouldn’t have stopped someone who truly desired me.”

“And would you have said yes?”

She did not answer that. She did not know.

If any other lord had come forward and asked her to be his wife, would she have gone against her father’s wishes and done it? Would she have done it if Colin for example asked for her hand in marriage?

No.

Regardless, if Anthony had proposed…

Anthony disliked the silence that echoed after his question, so he decided upon a lighter tone when he spoke again. “I will teach you if that’s what you truly desire. I’ll bed you, and I’ll be patient, and I’ll show you what a man like, but also teach you what you can like.”

She looked at his eyes, expectantly.

“But only if you ask me, only if you assure me that it is what you want,” he said. “Please only ask for it, however, if you truly want it and won’t regret it.”

“I won’t regret it.”

Anthony and [y/n] exchanged a look. They knew they were doomed, even though they didn’t want to admit it.

“Tonight then. When everyone’s at the ball, say you don’t wish to go because your wedding is coming, and you want to rest. I’ll send a carriage for you as soon as your mother and father have left your house.”

[y/n] gulped, suddenly anxious for more of those kisses, for more canoodling, as he had put it.

“I’ll be waiting,” she said. “Thank you, Anthony.”

He closed his eyes tightly, mashing them as if he wished he hadn't heard her.

“Don't thank me.”

Anthony Bridgerton was waiting for the most surprising guest of his life.

It wasn’t every day he would receive a lady friend in his small but only his house, but this one was a very special lady.

Actually, that night, she was no lady at all.

Lady [y/n] had picked the most sensual of her dresses, the one she only had worn once before. That was because when she did, Anthony almost passed out seeing her in a crowded ball and wearing that red tight thing that put all her natural beauties in place and upfront for any man to stare at. In fact, he had made sure she would only dance with him and her father that night because he decided no one else was allowed that privilege.

She decided it was only fit to wear it once again, for this time it was her ultimate goal to provoke Anthony.

Hah! She had always pondered over it, but never allowed herself to think too much because Anthony was not the man in her future. He still wasn’t, but it felt natural to close her eyes towards her future just for one night and enjoy having Anthony, being Anthony’s.

He was waiting for her in his empty house (he had dismissed the servants), holding a glass of wine in each hand. When she arrived, he offered her one, knowing it would help her nervousness. It was supposed to be helping him too, but as a man used to alcohol, he would need something much stronger.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked, feeling unquiet. The dress was affecting Anthony, she noticed it, but that simply wasn’t enough for her enquiring mind, who wanted to know every step of the way.

“Slowly,” he answered, drinking more wine. “Think of me as your husband after the wedding. How would you let the scene play?”

Oh, he liked to see her imagining him as her husband. After all, it was part of his little plan. He wanted to bed her, to love her for the whole night as long as she could, so she would be addicted and too scared to risk loving another man that can never be the same as Anthony.

“Well, not slowly,” she said. “I’m not a very patient girl.”

Anthony let his brows go up.

“So show me. I’m here to learn, too.”

Drinking in a quick sip of all the left wine in her glass, [y/n] got up and walked towards Anthony, only to sit down over his lap. That was the boost of courage Anthony needed, the confirmation that she was there as much as he was.

“Kiss me.”

And he obeyed.

They didn’t start out calmly, as the first kiss had been. [y/n] didn’t allow Anthony to be slow or tender. She didn’t want affection. She would soon be a wife, she hoped the affection would come with time, from her true husband. At that moment, she was a lover, a concubine, slipping away in the dead of night to find her great, seductive love.

And how big and seductive it was!

She could feel all his power through her dress and his clothing because the position made it all so easy. It was almost like the perfect fit. Anthony bit his lip, knowing he could very well hurt her if he did the wrong thing.

As they kissed, Anthony allowed her hands to explore him, get to know him, and she was grateful for the opportunity. He seized the instant and concentrated on undoing the beautiful hairstyle she wore, pulling out the bobby pins carefully so as not to hurt her and positioning them beside their abandoned wine glasses. Anthony enjoyed being able to see her hair completely down and was delighted to see that it was still the same beauty as when they were children.

Anthony wished he had the gift of painting that his brother Benedict had, so he could paint her in the dim candlelight of his living room, with her hair down and her dress falling apart on his lap. The skirt lifted, allowing for more friction, and her full breasts were desperate to pop out. God, he would burn that dress that night, for he would never consent her to wear it in the presence of the damn French lord.

Why didn’t she claim to be his, and they put an end to this farce? It was evident from the way she writhed in pleasure as he played with the skin of her leg that she was his. She was Anthony’s and would never be anyone else’s. Both came from good-class families, and Anthony was a viscount! A much better position than the Baron, and he was in London, where [y/n] would remain with her family. So why didn’t she confess everything?

He would make her concede.

Grabbing her hips, he rose with her clutched to his chest, and carried her upstairs to his room. He would need a bed to convince her.

He sprawled her out on his bed, happy with the image he saw. If he allowed himself to daydream, she could be there because she was his wife, ring and all.

“Anthony, tell me what to do.”

The words were intoxicating.

“Let your breasts come out. Let me see them. Play with them,” please, he wanted to add, but chose not to say. She was the one who should be begging tonight, not him.

She did as she was asked, carefully lowering the neckline of her dress and showing her breasts. Anthony let his head fall to the side in pleasure as a wave of heat washed over him. He well remembered the day he’d realized that Lady [y/n] had grown breasts. He was pretty sure the day got written down somewhere in his teenage writings. And now, seeing them in their full beauty, with no clothes to separate them, drove him insane.

Leaping over her on the bed, he lay his hand over hers on her right breast and stared at her left for just half a second before biting into her pert nipple.

She felt a surge of pleasure and squirmed, kicking off her shoes with only the rubbing of the edge of the wooden bed. Anthony was golden when he heard the clatter of shoes falling to the floor.

“Are you enjoying it?”

She didn’t answer, just squirmed once more.

“I need you to say it, love.”

“I am enjoying it,” she never admitted how much ‘love’ had affected her, even more than the tender touch of his on her breasts.

“Good, I’m enjoying it too,” he said, moving from one breast to the other. “I love how full they are.”

She moaned something he was unable to understand.

“Use your words, love.”

She bit her bottom lip, meeting his gaze. “I like that my bosoms please you.”

He smirked and pulled her by the arms so that she sat on the bed. She sat up, confused, and he got to his feet. “I want you not to be tense. I’m going to take my clothes off.”

“Want me to take mine off too?” she asked, tilting her head.

“No, I’ll do it,” he said, holding his pants by the waist belt. He hadn’t worn a suit since [y/n]’s arrival, but he still had his vest over his shirt. “I want you to watch me.”

And watched him, she did, completely fascinated by the view.

She was stunned to discover muscle under all the tailored clothing Anthony was always wearing, but that wasn’t all that left her with her mouth hanging open. When his underclothing fell to the floor, Anthony allowed her to see his long, hard cock. [y/n] looked down, imagining and remembering what she had under her skirt.

Her mother had informed her that his and hers would be different, but she never imagined that his would be so…big. That would never fit.

“What is it, love?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, positioning his chin in her lap. His eyes showed concern, and he was right to feel that way, thought [y/n], after all, he should have known he had an anomaly between his legs.

“It’s big,” she whispered.

He smiled with pleasure, holding back a laugh. “Yes, it is.”

“It’s very big.”

He had to lower his face into her skirt, so she wouldn't see him laughing. Of course, her reaction was to be expected, being a virgin, but, God, what wouldn’t he give her, so she could repeat that in front of his brothers. Or rather, all of London.

“You can take it,” he said when his laughter vanished. He rose again and asked for her hand. “Get up, let me undress you.”

She did as asked, and he went to see her buttons on the back, one by one. She felt his fingers play with her soft skin, and she felt exposed but in a good way. [y/n] had presumed she would feel ashamed, but she felt alive and hot.

“Are all men like that? Is Lord Blanc going to be as big as yours?”

Anthony snorted, and he stopped being careful and just tore the dress away.

“No, Blanc’s cock is not half as big as mine,” he supposed she couldn’t understand, not yet, how that was a bad thing for Lord Blanc.

Before she could comprehend, her dress was on the floor, all torn apart, thanks to the Viscount little jealous fit. Later she’d worry how could she leave the house with a rubbish gown, but at that very second, she only felt hot and alive and desirable. The dress had worked its magic on Anthony.

She was desperate to cover some part of her, knowing her two hands were not enough to cover it all. At least, the candlelight is not as bright as it could be, she thought, holding her belly.

Anthony noticed the sudden blush, and hurried to grasp her hands and let her body completely open to his view. “Don’t be ashamed,” he whispered, closer to her ear, “you are so very beautiful. The most gorgeous miss I have ever seen.”

[y/n] couldn’t help but blush again.

How long had she waited to hear a man, a proper man of London society, to say that to her? To compliment her naked body even though it was evident she was just another wallflower?

And to have Anthony to do so, oh my! The most handsome of the British men — she was more than sure now, that she could stare at him defenseless, with all his glory.

He held her left hand and squeezed it a little.

“Are you still sure of this?” he hated himself for asking, for if she answered no, he would die right there and then. His member was in so much bloody pain, throbbing non-stop with desire.

She nodded. “Yes, Anthony. I do, very much, want it.”

Now more than ever, she thought.

She could sense he was smiling in the dim light. “Come,” he whispered, taking her to bed once again, this time slowly, as if scared she could break when naked.

She laid, spread, and he, positioned on top, started kissing her, lips and neck, and his hands wandered all over her body. Her breast felt hurtful with his touch, but it was a different kind of pain because it emanated to the centre of her very core, and when Anthony fingers found her entrance, she let out a soft moan.

The Viscount couldn’t help but smirk, and while one hand stayed there, playing around her core, the other went to her face, as he played with her hair.

“Describe how you’re feeling,” he demanded.

“I can’t,” she said between groans, “I don’t know how.”

“Just tell me, love,” he kept demanding, “when I do this,” he said as he let his tip of the finger play with the mouth of her arousal, “what do you feel?”

She bit her lip. “Anticipation.”

“How so?”

“It feels good, but it also feels like there is more.”

Anthony smirk widened. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, milord,” she nodded, feeling a little pleasure when he started using two fingers to wander around. “Sorry, I meant Anthony.”

He stopped his fingers. “Keep the milord. I like it,” he said, coolly.

It was her chance to smile. She reached for his hand at her entrance and pulled it forward, with more of a firm grip.

“I like it when you call me love, as well,” she let out, feeling a sudden wave of blush.

With the help of her hand, Anthony allowed himself to get in more deeply, to really feel her, and when he played with her clit, he felt like he could die in peace.

“You are so wet for me, my love,” he whispered, desperately to taste her. He knew it could be weird for a first time, though, so he only kept playing with her clitoris, wondering about her taste as she moaned loudly.

Thank God they were alone.

“I feel… I feel like…”

“Like bursting?” Anthony suggested, looking forward to facing her as he knew she was about to come.

He teased and slither, and she just kept trembling and moaning, until a sudden wave of absolute pleasure took over her, and [y/n] like she was at Paradise, the rise of relaxation stronger than she ever felt.

“Anthony, that was…”

“I know,” he said, before pulling his fingers and finally allowing himself some taste of her, even though it was not how he planned. He wanted to really taste her, core and everything, but the wetness on his finger would have to be enough.

He let her breath hard for a whole minute, while he just kept teasing and kissing her belly, shoulders and sucking her finger — he found it a very nice thing to do.

“Is it now you are going to… penetrate me?”

My God, gasped Anthony Bridgerton, shocked Lady [y/n] had said those words. “I guess you did learn to use your words,” he whispered, playfully.

She blushed. “Well, the finger thing felt very, very good, but I’m quite sure it isn’t the thing that gets me pregnant.”

Anthony rose from her belly to kiss her lips. “You do know quite a lot, huh.”

“I did my reser…” but [y/n] never finished her sentence, for she remembered the consequences of making love. “Am I going to be pregnant with your baby?”

Oh, Anthony liked that idea. He kissed her again, again.

“Probably not,” he replied after a while.

“That is not very sure.”

“Nothing ever is,” he said, smirking.

She nudged his arm. “Anthony!”

“You came to me, love, what do you want me to do?”

“Not get me pregnant,” she replied.

“I can’t make promises,” he said, letting his smirk fade away, “but I’ll try my best.”

She breathed out, relieved.

“But, anyway, you are getting married tomorrow so… no one would figure it out,” he added, only to mess with her.

“I don’t know how Lord Blanc is. What if he’s your opposite? How am I expected to explain?”

“By marrying me,” he answered before he could hold his tongue. Lady [y/n] froze at his touch. “Don’t worry,” he quickly added, “you are not going to be pregnant on your first try.”

Noticing her brows were down again, Anthony took the opportunity to kiss her body once again, and she came alive at full speed. He touched her core.

“You are ready,” he said, and with the help of his elbows, he got a little up on her, only to adjust himself over her entrance.

She bit her lip, expecting, waiting. She needed that. Not only that, but she was desperate to know how it would feel to have all of him inside her. And he wasn’t strong enough to wait any longer.

Holding his tip with one hand and massaging her entrance with another, he said: “This might hurt a bit. But I’ll give you time to get used to it.”

Anthony allowed his member to slither in her core, and waited so she could feel more comfortable.

She held her breath when she felt the tip of him enter, but managed to settle down when she breathed again. Anthony let some more of him into her, and she sighed.

“Does it hurt?”

“I just need… I want a moment,” she said.

“Wait,” then he thrust deeper into her, startling her. She widened her eyes and grabbed him in his forearms, feeling a slight discomfort, like the pressure of something breaking. “You better get used to it now that I’m all inside you.”

And inside her, he was, because she could feel him through her pussy, something hard, nudging her. He held on tight, waiting for her to adjust. Meanwhile, Anthony avoided looking her in the eye, as it would be too much for him, and he imagined if he could get her pregnant.

He had never dreamed of having as many children as his parents had, but there, with his cock at the centre of her, he decided it wouldn’t be all bad to have eight children. Perhaps ten.

“Can you move?” she asked, in a whisper.

It caught Anthony by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you move… it? I feel like it would be better if you moved,” she said, blushing for having to explain her wishes.

“Of course I can move, love,” he smiled, and started the movement.

He delicately and caressing moved his member inside her, but she quickly grasped his back, bringing him closer and whispered “faster”. That was his favourite word in the whole world, for all he wanted to do was to thrust and throb with velocity as his member required.

Feasting, his hip movements allowed Lady [y/n] some absolute pleasure, way better than the fingers and the waiting. She moved with him, trying to bring him closer every time he pulled away.

[y/n] was euphoric and Anthony was flaming, both so caught up in the moment they didn’t even notice when they got very close to coming. He kept charging and she grasped him tighter.

“I’m feeling it again,” she whispered between a moan.

Taking advantage of her state, Anthony kept thrusting, but he added his finger at the tip of her clit, just to make things easier for her. “Then come, my love” he demanded, for he was not able to hold himself much longer.

“Oh, my…” she whispered before moaning, feeling the last string that fixed her on reality getting cut.

Anthony exploded not much after, remembering to pull out. He did not want to, he so very deeply wanted to plant his seed on her, to mark her as his by a definitive mean, but he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. If she wanted to be with him, she should do it because it’s her heart’s desire, not because of her uterus.

He laid right next to her, and she didn’t hesitate before coming closer and nestling on his bare chest. They were both out of breath and wet; Anthony could feel a drop of sweat running down his forehead, and [y/n] could feel the molasses on her legs and belly. But they weren’t disgusted — quite the opposite. Anthony felt that if he held her any longer, he would regain the energy to do it all over again soon.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, applying pressure to the lady’s forearm.

“Different,” she said, surprising him with her choice of word. “I think I must have even changed my appearance. How am I?” she asked, turning to face him.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Magnificent,” he continued. “You are marvelous.”

She felt herself blush and buried her face in the Viscount’s chest.

“You can’t tell me these things,” she sighed. “You're going to spoil me.”

“So be it,” he replied, kissing her on the top of her head.

“Oh, Anthony,” she breathed, more regretfully this time, permitting herself to look at him. His eyes gleamed in the night, and she imagined hers did the same. “This was a mistake.”

Anthony froze beneath her. He was hearing the words he never wanted to hear, but she kept saying it, and he heard it all, for he wanted the explanation to be more than just denying his feelings.

“I believe… I don’t want to marry any French lord,” she proceeded. “I want… No, I can’t. But I don’t want Jean, that’s for sure, and now… I’m doomed. What a bad idea of mine to sleep with my best friend!”

Anthony felt the smile appearing on his face before he actually felt the pure happiness that came with her sentence. Did she realize she was making all his wishes come true?

“Then don’t marry him,” he whispered, kissing her cheek then her temple.

She stared at him, widening her eyes.

“Marry me, [y/n],” he whispered, closer to her ear. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave this room.”

She couldn’t help the tears coming down.

“I love you, Anthony,” she whispered back. Those were his favourite words, he gasped, correcting his early thought. “But my father…”

“He can’t do anything if we get to marry before he finds out.”

“Anthony! You are a Viscount! You need to get married properly!”

Anthony sat on the bed, bringing her up with him, and squeezed her.

“[y/n], I love you with my very heart and soul. If you say you love me too and wish to have me forever, there is no one, God or mortal, that is going to stop me from making you mine,” he said, nonchalantly, so confident in himself. “I have always desired you, but never as strongly as now, and if you tell me it’s Jean Blanc you wish to marry, I’ll step away. You’ll never see me again.”

“I don’t…”

“But if you say it’s me you want,” he kept going, ignoring her attempt of interruption, “then I am yours, [y/n]. And you are mine, and I’ll make you a Bridgerton by law, as I’m pretty sure you already are one by heart.”

She smiled, genuinely smiled, feeling she was the most beautiful of the human beings and the most enviable, for sure.

“I want you, Anthony Bridgerton, and I want you to make me Mrs. Anthony Bridgerton, for I’m sure to be the happiest of the ladies next to you,” she said, making him kiss her desperately.

They laid in bed again, caught up in kisses and canoodles.

“Now, what do we do?”

“Leave that to me,” said Anthony, before kissing her again.

Anthony’s plan worked.

Well, of course, it did. He had an infallible tactic, and the whole of London was cheering for him and [y/n] to eventually get married.

The morning after they had sex for the very first time — and second and third, for Anthony Bridgerton was exquisite to know he was going to marry his best friend — he went straight to his mother’s house. He left [y/n] at his.

“Mother, I might have impregnated Lady [y/n] [y/l/n].”

That was a very powerful and enough sentence on its own. Lady Bridgerton almost fainted, but recomposed herself, sparkling with joy, for she had planned to see those two together their entire lives.

She excused herself and went to [y/n]’s family home. It was Violet who arranged everything, in a lighter tone than Anthony ever could, even though he was right next to her when she spoke. [y/n]’s mother started jumping and clapping around, filled with happiness. [y/n]’s father was not even a bit happy, but after a long conversation, he realized there was nothing he could do but to give Anthony’s [y/n]’s hand in marriage.

And so, the French lord got excused to go back to his country before he even arrived in London, and the party planned to happen in the afternoon went on. But this time, it was Anthony the man at the altar.

[y/n] was so happy she couldn’t believe it, and she liked to have seen Anthony taking charge of making them official. When it was announced they were husband and wife, [y/n] jumped over Anthony to kiss him as a lady should never in the presence of her family and in a church, but she did not care, for she had just married her best friend and the love of her life.

“I love you, Anthony.”

“I love you too,” he replied as they sat together at the wedding reception.

“What happens now?” she asked, curious and anxious as she has ever been.

“I shall take care of you, as I always have, but this time I can burn all of your dresses that I don’t approve of, and I shall buy you new ones that will cover you whole, for I’m the only one that can see your wonders now,” he said, making her laugh.

“And I shall keep all of those uneducated ladies away from my Lord, forever,” she said, and he kissed her cheek, unable to hold in his touches.

“You hold that in for very long, huh?”

“Very long indeed,” she said, smirking, for she was not thinking about herself but about him.

“Do you remember what you asked me yesterday afternoon?”

It sure felt like an eternity ago, but she remembered.

“I want you to ask it again.”

She smiled.

“Anthony?” He looked at her eyes. “Kiss me.”

Being married to Anthony Bridgerton would include…

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: smut towards the end including breeding kink, praise, degradation, semi-public references. Set in the early 1800s

Gif creds to owner

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Be With Me

Pairing: Anthony x Fem!Reader

Rating: M (18+)

Summary: Due to a storm, Anthony is unable to sleep - you both know the cure.

It was dark in the very early hours of the morning, the windows shook with anger - the flashes of light flooded the room without ceasing. It wasn't the rumble, nor the lightning that woke you. It was your husband, Anthony, tossing his frame every few seconds in restlessness. Your brows furrowed in concern, you pretended to sleep for a little while - but his movements proved there would be no end in sight any time soon.

"Anthony?" You whispered, "What is it?"

You heard his tired sigh, "I am sorry I woke you."

"It's alright" You spoke softly, turning to look to him.

He was on his side, his head buried into the pillow. You could see the exhaustion across his features, he was desperate for rest.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You questioned, reaching to trace his jawline.

"No need to worry," He half smiled, opening his eyes, "Just be with me. I will drift eventually."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his. They were warm and tasted still of his liquor before he crawled into bed. You loved that taste more than anything. As you deepened the kiss even more, your hands reached into the thick of his wavy hair. Tugging just lightly, you heard a low hum slip from his lips.

"I have an idea" You whispered, "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do." Anthony smiled into your kiss, "What did you have in mind?"

You grinned, your hands now reaching to his shoulders. With a swift movement, you pushed him to

his back, swinging your leg over you were now placed on top of his waist.

"Now Mrs. Bridgerton," Anthony raised a brow, "What pray-tell are you doing?"

"Well, Mr. Bridgerton.." You smirked, reaching for the hem of your dress - you pulled it over your torso to bare yourself for his gaze.

Anthony caught his breath, his eyes fixated on your bare skin.

"How are you mine-" He whispered, leaning up to you.

His lips touched softly to your chest trailing to the valley between your breasts. You hummed softly, your hands weaving through his strands of hair. He kissed slowly, taking his time. You relished in the moment, craving his lips even more with each second. His lips enclosed around you, causing you to shiver at the sensation. His tongue tasted your breast with vigor, causing your breathing to become labored.

"Anthony-" You sighed, "Please."

Pulling away, he looked into your eyes - knowing exactly what that plead meant. He took a moment to ready himself beneath you and reposited the both of you for what was to come next.

"I love you, Mrs. Bridgerton." His fingers traced your lips, "More than life itself."

"I love you too, Mr. Bridgerton" You smiled down to him, feeling the warmth of a thousand suns.

His lips moved to your own, gentle at first - but growing in passion as moments passed. You felt his need grow beneath you, causing your heart to quicken. Reaching between the both of you, you grippedto his length, positioning him to your entrance. In seconds, you had lowered yourself, burying yourself until there was nothing left. The both of you elicited the sound of great need, nearly out of breath from the feeling. You began to move, causing Anthony to fall to his back on your bed. He could only gaze up to you with enchantment in his eyes. Your hips moved in a slow rhythm for his sake, but you could hardly bare it. Anthony's eyes closed in bliss, his hands gripping you just hard enough to control the steady movement. Your hands traced along his chest, taking in the sight of him was something you never grew tired of. Sounds slipped from his mouth, his lips gaped in pleasure as you couldn't go slow any longer. Your fingertips dug into his skin as you picked up the pace, you were growing tired but you didn't much care. Sounds erupted from his lips, and without warning - Anthony had flipped to your back. You had a small sigh of relief, but you didn't have long to prepare yourself. His hands gripped your own above your head, and his hips had jutted deep inside. You couldn't help but cry out, but you nodded to make sure he knew that it was more than alright. His hips thrusted with vigor, pushing the both of you quickly to the edge. Your hand reached the small of his back, holding on tight as he buried himself over and over. You felt his hot breath in your neck as he kept going, and that was all it took for yourself to let go. As it always was, heaven and earth had met you in that moment of climax, your heart nearly stopped as you clutched on tight to him above you. Only moments had passed and he followed you soon after, his frame becoming still as he released. The two of you stayed there for a moment, your breathing labored, your hearts pounding.

"Do you think that shall help you sleep?" You breathily laughed, kissing his shoulder as he laid on top of you.

"I shall think we need to do it again," Anthony looked down into your eyes, "Just to be sure."

You couldn't help but grin, kissing Mr. Bridgerton once again before you made sure he was tired. Just to be sure.

the feminism has left my body momentarily 🫠🫠

Hysteria

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader. Doctor x patient, power imbalance, dubcon, misogyny, outdated medical practice, first orgasm, overstimulation, innocence kink, dirty talk, praise, cum eating, jerking off. this isn’t historically accurate at all- I combined more modern medical techniques with old ones I’m sure- but it’s rlly just for fun. I also just pretended corsets don’t exist for ease :,)

this could be considered a dark!fic. please read with caution

word count: 2,666 >:)

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the lack of anthony fics on here is literally detrimental to my health at this point, i NEEED them!

Man Of Honor (Part Four)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: You are one of Daphne's oldest friends, which means you are close with the other Bridgerton's as well. Being in love with the Eldest Bridgerton, Anthony is practically torture. You always thought he didn't think of you as more than a friend - like a sister almost. Until.....

Rating: (M+, Slow Burn)

Author's Note: Sorry about the tagging! I am just finding it to be a little overwhelming (I am an anxious person, fun fact. haha.) But I do hope you all enjoy this part - I actually had to split it up a bit because I could just not stop writing.. anyway. Thank you for reading and enjoy! I appreciate all of you - you can now find this series under the masterlist and I will tag as "man of honor series"

The sunlight peeked through the curtains, waking you from your deep sleep - your eyes blinked slowly at the light. A blissful smile spread across your lips, thinking that you truly couldn't be happier than you are now. It was just last night that you had given in to your desires, and you had finally kissed Anthony Bridgerton's lips - and much more. The smile you wore could hardly leave you, rethinking every moment - every touch. A part of you knew it was wrong, but the way he tasted, the way he touched you - you knew it was right.

"Good morning, Miss!" Your lady said walking into your room with a cheerful disposition.

"It is a good morning indeed." You grinned, "Has everyone started to make their way down to breakfast?"

"Why yes ma'am." She started to set out your dress, "You seem quite happy this morning."

"I am," You smirked, "I very much am."

You quickly dressed, eager to start the day and see Anthony in any form. There was no doubt you were feeling exceptional, that was until you had thought of the consequences of last night's endeavors. Your thoughts drifted

to what would happen next, and your heart could only hope that Anthony would ask for you hand.

"Are you ready miss?" Your lady had interrupted your train of thought.

"Yes quite." You smiled, watching as she took her leave.

Following behind her, you made your way into the hallway - hearing the chatter downstairs of the Ton readying for the lavish breakfast. You could only laugh at the thought, knowing how truly wonderful this all was. You walked forward oblivious to your surroundings, and suddenly you felt a hand grasp your arm. You gasped louder than you had expected, feeling a hand fly to your mouth. Your eyes wide with shock, you turned to see Anthony with a devious smile. Before you had a chance to ask, he had pulled you through the hallway with a quickness that made your feet stumble. It wasn't long until he had pulled you into what looked like a closet full of houseware supplies.

"What on earth are you doing?" You whispered as soon as his hand fell.

Anthony's mouth crept into a smile, his gaze falling to your lips.

"Do not do that." You laughed nervously, feeling his hungered gaze on you was not something you were prepared for in the light of day.

"Do what?" He mused, hovering his lips now over your own, "I had to see you."

"Oh was the need so dire to shove me into a closet?" You whispered on his lips.

"Hush, you." He playfully scolded, gently pulling you into his kiss.

It started out innocent, as most things do, but the two of you couldn't help the growing need. Dancing as they did last night, your lips moved in an almost sinful manner - exchanging breaths of hot passion.

"I will make a plan." He murmured in your lips, "I will come up with something."

"Is that so?" You smiled into the kiss, causing him to smile back.

"I intend to marry you." He started to kiss along your chin, and then your jaw. You smiled in bliss, loving every second of his lips traveling your skin. It was a moment you wanted to stay in forever wrapped in his arms, kissing his lips over and over. But there was a different feeling you had not experienced - causing you to catch your breath. There you felt it, pressing into your core - his need growing by the second.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" His lips hovered over your skin, "Do you feel how much I need you?"

You looked down in curiosity, the sight causing your own center to feel hot. Biting your lip, you took his jaw - forcing his lips back to your own. You felt the hum of his pleasure tingle your lips, and you couldn't help yourself.

"I want to see" You whispered into his kiss, "I want to-"

"Feel?" Anthony grinned, "Do you wish to feel what you do to me?"

"Yes," You sighed, "Yes I do."

"Any of the ton-"

"I do not care." You bit is lip, "Let me see"

Anthony devilishly grinned, taking your hand and placing it to his clothed length. Your breathing hitched, you had never felt a man before, but you knew that this would cause your limbs to grow weak. Kissing again, the two of you exchanged moans of pure pleasure. Your hands moved across the fabric, which caused Anthony's breathing to become labored.

"I want to see, Anthony." You kissed along his jaw, "Let me feel you, entirely."

"As you wish." He sighed, reaching between the two of you to rid of his trousers. You watched intently, seeing his flesh and skin caused your mind to run wild - how you wanted to kiss every inch of him. As his trousers fell, your eyes could not look away.

"Do you see what you've done?" Anthony playfully mused.

You smirked, feeling rather bold and brave - you took him in your hand. Anthony's body reacted, his back hitting a near shelf - his breath caught and he nervously laughed.

"Did that feel good, My Lord?" You smirked, feeling delightful at the reaction your touch caused.

Anthony tilted his head, his eyes lowered - and his lips crashed to yours yet again. He kissed you with fever and roughness, causing sounds to erupt from your lips.

"Move it" He murmured into your mouth, "Your hand."

You nodded as your lips still connected, moving your hand along his length. Your heart began to race, as you felt near growls in your mouth. The feeling of him in your hand was driving you wild, you wanted to feel every part of him in a way a woman could. His breathing quickened the more you moved your touch, and you felt his hand reach to the back of you. The two of you were clamped together in breathless movements, and you felt his hips begin to move into your touch. Your eyes opened, as he pulled away from your lips - his mouth fell in pleasure, and his release had happened. With a smile, you looked down to see what you had done - and you felt immense accomplishment.

"Shall we have breakfast?" You spoke coyly, leaning to kiss him just once more.

Anthony smirked into your lips, "Yes I think we shall."

"Perhaps we should be more careful, My Lord," You teased, hovering over his smile.

"We were not seen in the library, I am sure we were not seen here," He whispered, teasing yet another kiss over your lips, "I assure you."

You leaned to kiss him once more, but his finger had come between the both of you. You frowned in confusion,

wondering why he would keep it from you.

"The next time," He whispered, "I shall kiss you," He hovered, "You shall be my wife."

Unable to stifle your laugh you responded, "As you wish, My Lord."

"What have I told you of calling me-"

"Perhaps when I am your wife." You smirked, "I shall call you by your name."

Anthony looked at you with amusement, clearly understanding that two could play this teasing game.

The ton was abuzz when the night came to pass, delightful colors and decor had filled your vision. The beauty of it all nearly took your breath away, knowing that maybe someday it would be your turn to decorate the Bridgerton Aubrey Hall. You could almost laugh at the thought, of becoming a Viscountess. But it was nearing, and you couldn't have been happier. Throughout the day, you had shared looks of knowing with Anthony. Sly smirks and grins were all you could provide in your expression. He had pledged to declare his feelings when the time was right, and you had agreed that now was not the time. Tonight as you walked through the Ton, hearing whisperings of your chosen attire - you felt a wave of confidence you hadn't in a long time. You wore your very best, dressed from head to know you dared to say you had sparkled in the finest Madame Delacroix had to offer. You walked on air as you made your way towards your mother, who had been smiling at you with a sense of pride.

"Hello dearest," She smiled, "You look beautiful, my darling girl."

"Thank you Mama," You sighed, your eyes now searching the room for Anthony - you were eager to see him.

"We were just talking about Lord Barlowe" Your mother nodded to other ladies of the ton, including Violet Bridgerton.

"Oh?" You smiled nervously, wondering how this would transpire when Anthony declared himself.

"Yes dear," Your Mother smiled, "He has asked for my permission."

Your heart nearly stopped, "What?"

Anthony's POV.

He didn't really care for these events, these lavish and surprisingly dull balls. He had nearly had enough, and if it wasn't for her. He wouldn't bother to come at all. But she was going to be here, tonight, and he was sure she was going to take his breath away - like she always did. So he waited patiently by the lemonade, watching intently the dancing and chatter among everyone. A part of him know tonight was his chance, and he had thought of doing it for so long- he could hardly wait. He was going to marry her, there was no doubt in his mind - nor was there ever. She had been the one he loved, always and forever. Anthony could smile at the thought, addressing her as Viscountess was something he dreamed of - but never thought it in a million lifetimes it would come to fruition. Throughout the day, he had daydreamed of her touch - the way her mouth tasted, it made him dizzy with desire. Above all these things, her scent remained in his mind - a touch of lavender, a touch of sweetness. He closed his eyes at the memory, her silent yet beautiful sounds she made when he touched her. The way he could feel her breathe differently in his arms, the way she had her hands wrapped around him -it drove him wild.

"-Dare say, Lord Barlowe has quite the accomplishment."

Anthony's thoughts had been distracted by the chatter of women behind him, he looked only briefly to see her Mother among them. He stood very still, hoping he could get away with eavesdropping.

"Yes, Lord Barlowe is quite the match." Her Mother spoke with near giddiness.

"I do wonder how he came into such wealth." Another lady spoke.

Anthony scoffed, rather loudly.

"Lord Barlowe is the most eligible of the season," Her Mother spoke again, "It is quite a blessing he has taken to my dear girl."

"Is it true he has asked for your permission?"

The question made Anthony's blood run cold, his hand gripped his glass tighter.

"It is true indeed," Her mother giggled, "I am unsure how Lady Whistledown had gotten the news, but yes it is true."

His heart fell, he had prayed her Mother would change her mind.

"He is the best match," Her Mother sighed, "I could not have asked for anything better. He will take care of us both."

Anthony couldn't stand it any longer, moving rather quickly from the crowd of women. The pain had sunk deep into his mind, rethinking everything he had done the past few days. Deep inside, he knew what he needed to do.