#bridgerton x male reader smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anastasiareadsnwrites · 3 months ago

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Can you do one for Anthony x Male reader where reader is an open minded writer with more…… scandalous erotic melancholia and decides to show Anthony he can please him better than any woman.

Be Wherever You Are (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Author's note: Hiya, it's been awhile and I know this came out late as well as the Benedict fanfic as well but I am working on finishing the series I have out for the mothers of the Ton. Please if this wasn't to your liking request another one or point out some tips for future requests. Thank you so much for requesting!

Summary: As days passed on with your writing you couldn't help but notice that some of the men in your story had basically described the man you were starting to grow close with. Being the bold person you are you couldn't help but make your move

Warning(s): NSFW, 18+, bold! reader, sexual tension, describing muscular bodies, Anthony gets a little jealous, scandalous yearnings, oral sex, Anthony! recieving, Reader! giving, more to be added.

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the dimly lit study, casting flickering shadows across the grand room. Anthony Bridgerton sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed as he poured over a stack of papers-estate matters, no doubt, the weight of responsibility ever-present on his shoulders. The world outside these walls saw him as nothing but the proper Viscount, the head of the Bridgerton family, always in control, always composed.

But you had come to know him differently.

Leaning against the door frame, you observed him quietly, the air between you thick with something unspoken. It had been weeks since you'd grown closer, you conversations no longer confined to polite society. In your stories, in the stolen glances, in the unguarded moments, you'd both begun to unravel before each other.

The flames in the hearth case a golden hue on Anthony's sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw as he worked tirelessly, ever the perfectionist. Yet, you could see it-the weariness in his eyes, the subtle sag of his shoulders. He was a man in need of something more than duty and tradition.

And tonight, you were bold enough to give it to him.

Stepping into the room, your presence commanded his attention instantly. He didn't look up right away, but you could sense the way his body tensed, the way his feathered pen faltered ever so slightly. Without a word, you moved closer, your footsteps soft against the Persian rug, until you were standing across from him, just a breath away.

"You always surround yourself with work," you said, voice low, carrying the weight of the moment. "Don't you tire of it?"

Anthony finally glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto yours, the flicker of something dangerous lurking in them. He didn't answer right away, his gaze trailing over your form with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"What I tire of is being questioned about matters that don't concern you," he replied, his voice measured but with an edge that betrayed his frustration.

You smirked, undeterred by his attempt at resistance. "Is that so? And here I thought you might enjoy the company of someone who sees more of you than just the Viscount."

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening-but you knew better. Beneath his facade, you had already seen glimpses of the man behind the title. And tonight, you would see even more.

You took another step closer, leaning over the desk just enough for the firelight to catch your face, your eyes meeting his with unmistakable intent.

"I see you, Anthony Bridgerton," you whispered, "and I think it's time you let someone else take control, if only for a little while."

Anthony's eyes narrowed, but not with anger-there was something else there. A flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even desire, the kind he was used to suppressing. The air between you was electric, charged with the weight of things left unsaid.

"Take control?" he repeated, his voice tight, almost mocking, but you could hear the strain behind it. "You overestimate your influence."

You smiled, the kind of smile that made your intentions clear without a single word needing to be said. Slowly, you moved around the desk, not breaking eye contact with him for even a moment. You could see the tension in the his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the armrests of the chair just a little too hard. He was trying to maintain his composure, to keep his distance, but the fire in his eyes betrayed him.

"Oh, Anthony," you said softly, standing beside him now. You let your hand rest lightly on his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath his jacket. "I think you've been in control long enough."

His breath hitched, just for a moment, before he converted it up with a scoff. "This isn't a game."

"No," you agreed, leaning down to whisper in his ear, your lip just barely brushing the edge of his skin. "But you and I both know you're tired of pretending."

You could feel the way his body stiffened beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away. His hands remained on the armrests, knuckles white, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths as if he was trying to will himself back into the Viscount's rigid armor.

"I am not pretending," he finally said, though his voice lacked it usual conviction.

You straightened up, your fingers trailing lightly from his shoulder down the length of his arm before you leaned against the desk in front of him. The firelight danced in your eyes as you watched him, letting the silence stretch between you.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you stopped me?"

Anthony's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, his gaze settling on the fire burning low in the hearth. He was fighting it-fighting you-but you knew you had already won. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to you, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"This is highly inappropriate," he said, though the words came out softer than they should have.

You leaned in, your face inches from his, daring him to push you away.

"Is it?" you whispered, your breath mingling with his. "Or is this exactly what you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might argue, might stand up and walk out, but then his hand twitched on the armrests, his fingers finally relaxing. His breath was shallow now, and when his eyes locked onto yours again, all traces of resistance were gone.

"Show me," he said, voice barely more than a whisper. "Show me that you can give me what no other woman can."

Your smiled widened, knowing that this was the moment everything changed. You stepped closer, your hands brushing over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his waistcoat.

"As you wish, Anthony," you whispered, your lips hovering just above his. "But remember.... you're the one who asked."

With that, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, a collision of control and surrender. Anthony tensed at first, as though this was something he wasn't used to-being on the receiving end-but then, slowly, you felt him relax under your touch, his hands finally reaching up to grip your waist.

The kiss deepened, and for the first time, you could feel him let go. The walls he had built around himself, the armor of his title, the expectations-it all began to crumble as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to feel something more than duty.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. His eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"This is only the beginning, Anthony," you whispered, your voice low and full of promise. "I'll show you want it feels like to be truly wanted...and to let go."

As you hovered close to him, your hands still resting on his chest, you could feel Anthony's breath starting to steady, but there was something else-something weighing on his mind. His eyes flickered with a sudden sharpness, as though he had remembered something important.

"I saw it," Anthony said, his voice low, almost husky, but laced with something more-a challenge, perhaps. "The draft on your latest story. You left it open on the desk last time you visited."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, though you didn't pull away. "Did you now?"

His lips curled into a faint, almost teasing smile, but his eyes were serious. "It's funny how your protagonist...how he reminded me of someone."

You let your hands drift lower, fingers tracing over the fabric of his waistcoat, but you didn't break eye contact. "Is that so? And who might that be?"

Anthony's breath hitched as your hands slid down to his belt, your fingers working the buckle with practiced ease. You could feel the tension in his body heighten, but he remained still, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Someone who spends his days pretending he doesn't want things he shouldn't," Anthony murmured, his voice rough as you undid the belt, the soft clink of metal filling the room. "Someone who think duty can replace desire."

You chuckled softly, your fingers now teasing at the buttons of his trousers, working them loose with slow, deliberate movements. "I suppose you could say that the protagonist is inspired by someone," you whispered, your voice full of wicked amusement.

Anthony's breath grew shallower, his chest rising and falling as his trousers loosened beneath your hands, the fabric slipping from your fingers, revealing more of him. "And what is it that he wants?" Anthony asked, his voice barely more than a whisper now, but the question was heavy, loaded with meaning.

Your hands paused, fingers lightly brushing against the bare skin of his hips as you leaned in closer, your lips grazing the side of his neck. His pulse raced beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his anticipation hanging in the air.

"He wants," you murmured, letting the word linger in the space between you, "to be freed from the chains he's put on himself...to be claimed, to be wanted, in ways no one else dares to want him."

Anthony swallowed hard, his body trembling ever so slightly beneath your touch. You could feel his control slipping away, his composure cracking as your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the heat of his skin.

"And who is it that claims him in the story?" Anthony asked, though his voice was strained now, almost as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from your lips.

You leaned in, your mouth hovering just over his, your breath hot against his skin. "Someone bold enough to see him for who he truly is...and who isn't afraid to take what they want."

With one swift motion, you undid the last of his trousers, letting them fall to the floor, freeing him completely, your hands grazing along the edge of his bare hips. Anthony gasped, his control faltering completely as his hands gripped the arms of the chair, his head falling back slightly as he surrendered to the moment.

You stood there for a moment, admiring the sight of him-the usually unshakable Viscount, vulnerable, exposed, and at your mercy. The firelight flickered across his bare skin, casting shadows that dances with the unspoken tension between you.

"Now tell me, Anthony," you whispered, your voice low and commanding. "Is this where your story ends, or is it just the beginning?"

The weight of the moment hung in the air, heavy and electric, as you glanced up at him, meeting his gaze with a look that spoke volumes. He was waiting, teetering on the edge of control, the authority he wielded in every other aspect of his life slipping further with each passing second.

Without a word, you got onto your knees in front of him and leaned forward, your lips brushing against his length, teasing him, barely touching at first. Anthony's entire body tensed, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair, his breath catching in his throat.

You smirked, pleased by his reaction. You had him exactly where you wanted him-no more pretense. Slowly, you parted your lips, your mouth enveloping the tip of him with gently pressure. The heat of him the taste, filled your senses as you moved, taking him in inch by inch, your tongue swirling against his sensitive skin.

Anthony's head fell back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut as a low, guttural moan escaped him. His hand moved as though to stop you-his last attempt at control-but it faltered, fingers curling into the armrest instead his resolve crumbling.

You moved with purpose now, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm, your lips and tongue working together to bring him pleasure. Each time you pulled back, you teased him with just the tip of your tongue, before sinking down again, deeper this time, letting him feel the full warmth of your mouth. His hips shifted involuntarily, his body reacting to the sensations, even as he tried to keep himself still, tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

But it was no use. Anthony's breaths came out in ragged bursts, his body trembling as you continued to work him over, the wet sounds of your mouth filling the room, mingling with the crackling of the fire. You could feel the tension in him building, the way his though tightened beneath your hands, the way his muscles quivered under your touch. He was losing himself in this moment, and you loved it-loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and at your mercy.

You paused for a brief second, just long enough for Anthony to groan in protest, his eyes snapping open, dark with need. "Don't...stop," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his control slipping with each word.

You smiled, your hands lightly stroking him as you spoke. "Who's in control now, Viscount?"

Anthony didn't answer. He couldn't His mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a low, needy moan as you took him into your mouth once more, your hand working in tandem with your lips, faster now, pushing him closer to the edge.

His breathing was erratic, his body moving with you now, no longer able to hold back. You could feel him getting closer, the way his muscles tightened, the way his moans became more desperate, more raw. You pushed him further, sucking harder, faster, your tongue flicking against the most sensitive part of him, until-

"God-" Anthony's voice broke as his body tensed, every muscle tightening as he reached the peak of pleasure. His hips jerked involuntarily, his hand gripping the chair so hard his knuckles went white as he came, his release filling your mouth in hot, pulsing waves.

You didn't stop until he had given you everything, your mouth and hand working together to milk every last bit of pleasure from him. Only then did you pull back, swallowing and licking your lips as you looked up at him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

Anthony sat there, breathless, his head still tilted back, chest heaving, his eyes closed as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the sound of his labored breathing.

You stood slowly, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I told you....no one could please you like this."

Anthony's eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. For the first time, he looked at you not as the Viscount, not as the man always in control, but ask someone who had been utterly, completely undone.

And he liked it.

Anthony's chest still rose and fell with the remnants of his release, but as the silence settled over the room, something new flickered in his eyes- something darker. He watched you, his gaze sharp and intense, but not with the softness of vulnerability that had been there moments ago. Instead, a shadow of jealousy clouded his expression.

You hadn't even had time to fully stand before Anthony's hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength, pulling you back down toward him. His gaze bore into yours, his voice low, edged with suspicion.

"Tell me," he murmured, his tone filled quiet intensity. "Do all the men in your stories end like this? Growing 'close' with you like this?"

The question hung in the air, thick with jealousy, his fingers tightening around your wrist as though he were afraid you might slip away, just like the words he was too proud to say aloud. You could hear the accusation in his voice, see it in his eyes-the doubt, the possessiveness. Anthony Bridgerton, the man who had always been in control, was now desperate to know if he was special...or just another conquest.

A slow smile spread across your lips, and you couldn't help but tease him. "Of course they do," you replied, your voice light, dripping with playful mischief. "Bold men who know what they want always find their way into my stories-and into my life."

You felt the shift immediately. Anthony's expression hardened, his grip on you tightening further. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as the weight of your words sank in. For a moment, you wondered if you had pushed too far, but then something changed in him- a flash of determination, of possessive need that eclipsed his earlier vulnerability.

Without warning, he stood, towering over you with newfound intensity. He was no longer the man caught off guard by his desires. He was the Viscount again-dominant, commanding. In one swift movement, he cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you back down to your knees.

"If that's how it is," he growled, his voice rough with jealousy, "then you can show me how much better I am than any of them."

Before you could respond, Anthony's hips pressed forward, guiding himself toward your mouth. His movements were deliberate, demanding, as if he wanted to erase any lingering thought you might have of anyone else. There was no hesitation now as he thrust himself between your lips, his hands still gripping your hair tightly, setting the pace.

You moaned around him, the sudden shift in power igniting something deep inside you. You liked this- liked the way Anthony took control, the way he used your mouth for his own pleasure, his jealousy fueling the intensity of the moment. Every sound you made only seemed to spur him on, his hips moving with more urgency, more need.

"That's it," Anthony muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, dark with lust. "You like this, don't you? You like being used."

You didn't answer with words-you couldn't. But the way you moaned, the way your hands gripped his thighs as you eagerly took more of him into your mouth, told him everything he needed to know. You tongue swirled around him, your lips tight as you sucked harder, wanting to please him as much as he wanted to claim you.

Anthony's breathing grew heavier, his head falling back slightly as his hips rocked against your face, the muscles in his body tensed with the building pleasure. He groaned deeply, his hand tightening in your hair, his voice husky and filled with unrestrained desire.

"Better than any woman," he rasped, his words punctuated by a sharp thrust of his hips. "None of them could ever do this...none of them could ever make me feel like this."

The praise sent a surge of heat through you, and you responded by taking him deeper, your mouth working faster, more eagerly. Anthony's moans grew loader, more desperate, and you could feel him edging closer and closer to release. His grip on you was almost bruising now, but you didn't mind-you reveled in the way he lost himself in you, the way he surrendered to the pleasure you gave him.

"Look at you," Anthony muttered, his voice thick with lust. "My perfect thing. You'll never leave me wanting for anyone else."

You moaned in response, the vibration of your voice making Anthony curse under his breath, his bucking wildly as he reached the peak of his pleasure. His fingers gripped your hair tighter, his whole body tensing as he came, his release hot and heavy in your mouth. You took all of him, your hands steady on his thighs as you let him use you until he was spent.

When it was, Anthony stood there for a moment, chest heaving, his hand still tangled in your hair. Slowly, he released you, his fingers brushing your scalp softly as if he realized he had been rougher than intended. He looked down at you, a mixture of pride and satisfaction in his eyes.

He pulled you up to your feet, his fingers tracing along your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips, swollen and slick from the intensity of what had just passed between you.

"Better than any story," he whispered, his voice low and possessive. "Better than any fantasy."

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x reader #x reader #x Male reader #male reader #gay men #Anthony x Male reader #Anthony x reader #Anthony Bridgerton x you #Anthony Bridgerton x y/n #smut #oral service #reader insert #fanfic #gay

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starriisarchives · 7 months ago

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"you can choose anyone but him." ღ penelope featherington.

౨ৎ welcome to penelope's channel ! ᝰ please read the warnings before interacting. minors dni with [n]sfw content! grab your snacks and enjoy :D

(✰) fluff — (❀) angst — (❤︎) smut — (⟡) hurt/comfort

·˚ ༘ * SHORTS ✗ DRABBLES

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * LIVES ✗ HEADCANONS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * VIDEOS ✗ ONESHOTS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * STREAMS ✗ SERIES

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * PLAYLISTS ✗ TWOSHOTS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

#ꪶ files ꫂ #penelope x reader #penelope featherington x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x male reader

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startwelve · 11 months ago

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Proposal

Hello. How are you? I came to tell you that because of my personal problems, I didn't have much image to write, but a few days ago I downloaded an artificial intelligence that allows you to create characters and interact with them in a chat, (sometimes the characters do somewhat random things and He says things that don't make sense, but it's easy to fix), so it occurred to me to make fics of those interactions that I have with the characters, from Stranger Things to Bridgerton hahaha.

Tell me if you like the idea :)

Huge kisses💋

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denim-devil · 2 years ago

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Hi, 🌄 morning sex head canon for Anthony Bridgeton? Maybe with ftm reader (if you write for ftm reader that is if not you can just do male reader) where they are married? 🤷🏽

Morning sex 🌄

After a very successful season, Anthony found himself in a perfect predicament, you were wrapped up in his arms tightly and he was never letting you go, not again, the golden band that glimmered underneath the morning sun proved that to be right.

Shuffling lightly, you awake to a pair of dark hazel eyes, immediately a sloppy smile broke out on your face before pushing up into his plush lips. It was soft yet careless, not that it bothered the two of you and your tangled bodies.

Anthony coaxed you backwards into the sheets, pulling away, he smiles knowing your all his, just his.

“Morning…”

He mumbles breathlessly, eager to unravel his very thoughts, all containing you. He often thought about this, maybe that was unreasonable, especially once in public but he couldn’t help knowing you would reflect his want.

Relaxing into the soft fabric of the thick winter sheets, parting your legs, you give Anthony enough space to slot in easily, enough for him which resulted in your body being folded slightly, thighs bumping into your stomach.

Dipping down, he pecks you on the lips, something quick and forward to keep you occupied whilst he stripped the white underwear that clung to his growing bulge, a hard thud rippling against his sculpted stomach.

“Now that your legally mine…I can’t help but think-“

Cutting him off with a wiggle of your hips, it inevitably catches him off guard, his appendage jumping at the contact of your skin.

You sense the impatient dripping from Anthony’s body which matched the now fully hard erection he sported against your outer thighs. Stilling, your hands reach up to bury in his thick brunette locks, forcefully tugging him down into a longing kiss.

His tongue effortlessly entered your maw, rolling against your own. Regularly skipping breakfast, Anthony couldn’t help but let his hunger take control over him, the leaking tip of his prick rubbing up against the soft skin of your pucker.

Anthony often craved the close contact you now shared. Every single time he manages to lose himself somehow, even if for a minute he can only describe the feeling as blissful, reeling in your after-glow.

Breaking the kiss short, you murmur his name like a pray, hopeful that shortly he would enter the only place he liked to claim as “home”.

“Can’t help but think what…my lord?”

The nickname in itself had Anthony audibly half grunt, half scoff, but you could feel him twitch against your entrance. Pushing himself a little further, you greedily accept the tip of him raw, arms wrapping around his muscular back, holding him close.

His jaw runs slack, a low groan suggesting just how much he needed this, you. The continuous dribbling of pre helped ease the next couple of inches into you. His girth alone had your nails scraping along his arched back, up and down, back and forth.

It didn’t take long for Anthony to take the initiative, fully sheathing himself inside of your now stretched entrance, his balls heavily resting atop of your soft globes of flesh.

Both stilling, you hold your thoughts, a set of harmonious moans rejoicing together.

“Anthony-“

“Yes?” He panted softly.

“Move- please, I need you”

You didn’t have to ask twice.

#male reader #x male reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #smut #fluff #THIS IS SO RUSHED #HELP-#it’s bad…but enjoy

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fayes-fics · 4 months ago

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Rebel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You only wanted a quiet refuge away from the ball, you got a lot more than that…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, rake!Anthony, innocent!reader, frottage incl. clit stimulation through clothing, female and male orgasms.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: For all the Anthony fans, sorry it's been so long since I posted a fic for him alone. I don't recall where this idea originated from other than my wanting to do a trapped-together trope for him. It turned out sweeter than I expected tbh. Thanks to @colettebronte for an awesome betaing, as always. Enjoy! <3

You are grateful to find a little oasis of calm. A small storage room that is cool, dark and quiet—a world away from the loud, stuffy ballroom. The perfect hideout from the undesirable whirlwind of your first-ever society event, escaping your aunt’s clutches at an opportune moment as she was detained by a verbose member of the Ton. Slumped against the wall, shoes removed, and eyes closed, you finally find a calm reverie, your flushed skin cooling….

Until that is, your refuge is rudely invaded.

There is a shaft of almost blinding light and then a whirlwind of movement. The door makes an odd clicking noise as it is practically slammed shut again.

And then a deep, wracked sigh that is decidedly male.

All of your serenity evaporates, a prickle over your skin at the realisation you are not alone. In fact, you are unchaperoned in a darkened room with an unknown man.

Fretting for a few moments, you know it's impossible to slip past him unnoticed. So you hope you can stay quiet enough and pray he will leave again shortly. Perhaps it's the darkness that heightens his hearing; maybe it's that you are unable to silence your breathing sufficiently in such a small room, but your hope is instantly dashed.

“Who is there?” his voice rings out loudly, and you wince, knowing it's probably pointless to stay silent but seemingly unwilling to speak.

There is the rasp of a match being struck, and then a tiny flame appears to illuminate the lines of a face. It looks youthful, handsome, well-bred… and very annoyed.

“What in God’s name are you doing in here? And who are you?” He questions as he swings the flame around, looking for a sconce to light, making a quiet sound of victory as he locates one near the door.

“I…I came to escape.” Your confession is easier with his back turned as he lights the fixture. “I'm Miss y/l/n. And you are?”

He guffaws as he faces you again. “Hah …”

“Did I say something amusing?” you squint slightly as you adjust to the light after considerable minutes alone in the dark.

“I believe you did...” he chuckles, bemused that you do not instantly recognise him. “Well, ‘tis of little consequence,” he sniffs, “as this is occupied, I shall bid you adieu and find a different private space….”

It appears he was looking for escape as much as you. But, what he probably hoped would be his parting words, accompanied as they are by a brusque nod, turn out to be anything but.

The polished brass door knob spins in his grip, but the door does not relent, staying firmly within its frame. He tries a few more times before huffing and starting to rattle it more insistently. Then, beginning to lean into the door with his weight as if hoping that would shift it.

The door opens inward, idiot… you roll your eyes unseen, assuming the man is playing a prank at first. But the more he repeats the same move, each a shade more frantic than the last, the more you realise it is perhaps not a comedic bit.

“We are stuck?!” You check, indignance flaring. The door was just fine before he got here.

“It would appear so, Miss,” not pausing in his actions as he answers, a curl of hair flopping rather fetchingly over his forehead.

You start to pace back and forth, only a few steps possible in the small room, but an overwhelming need to move to dissipate the nerves creeping up your spine.

“Well, bang on the door then!” you gesticulate, forgetting any manners in your growing disquiet.

“Outspoken...” he pauses to mutter under his breath, but it’s begrudging respect more than chastisement. He starts to do exactly as you suggest: pound his fist on the door and call out for anyone. He presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear an approach. When there appears to be none, he repeats. “You could help, you know…” he throws out pointedly, side-eyeing you.

“Tis not becoming of a lady…” you counter sarcastically.

“Neither is ordering me around, but you seemed to have no issue in that regard,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow that calls your bluff and has you springing to his aid.

With both of you thumping on the door, you hope discovery is imminent, but after a few attempts, no one comes to assist.

“Urghh! The ball is likely too loud, and this corridor too seldom visited,” you surmise.

“Most likely,” he concedes, a flash of what looks like admiration flitting across his features. “Perhaps we will need to remain in here until the ball is quieter.”

“That could be hours; my aunt will wonder where I am,” you slump your head into your hands before moving to pace again.

“Then maybe she will dispatch a search party. You are not the first debutante to hide in a storage closet, believe me. This may well be the first place they come looking.”

“Not exactly ideal, or did you forget it would be a scandal if we are found here together?!” you point out tartly.

Again, there is a flash of something over his face, as if he enjoys it when you behave the very opposite of polite.

“Of course, I did not,” he gruffs, then softens his countenance. “I shall conceal myself in that alcove behind the door,” he gestures to the corner where, indeed, there is an almost hidden indent in the wall. “Your search party shall be none the wiser. I can make my escape once the coast is clear.”

His suggestion immediately assuages you, believing the sincerity in his tone. There is a beat as you both nod to each other as if sealing this pact.

“You still have not told me your name…” a need to know it after this gentlemanly gesture.

“You honestly do not know?” prompting an attractive furrow between his eyebrows.

“No. This is my first ball. I am here at the behest of my maternal aunt. I have no earthly idea who most of these people are,” you huff, gesturing towards the jammed door.

“Some may argue lucky for you….” his response laced with amusement before he squares his shoulders to continue. “Bridgerton. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.”

“Oh…”

If there is one name your cousin has warned you about before tonight, it's the Bridgerton brothers. All handsome, rich, intelligent… and very unlikely to take a wife. It would be wiser to howl at the moon than expect the pursuit of a Bridgerton—her stark words of warning echoing in your mind as you sense him observing you curiously. Your response is obviously not what he expected, that forehead crease reappearing.

“Oh?” he mimics. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“I am… aware of your family…” You confess, unsure what else to say.

“It does not sound a pleasant recollection,” he astutely surmises. “Am I to assume my family has done yours some harm?”

“No!” you reply quickly. “Nothing of that nature…”.

“Then what?... Out with it!” a mild irritation rising as you hesitate.

“My cousin warned me about the Bridgerton brothers,” you blurt out.

He barks a brief laugh but takes a step closer, his stance relaxing and gaining a swagger.

“Oh, did she now?” his voice changed; deeper, smokier, firing something in your belly.

“Yes…” it's your turn to square your shoulders, crossing your arms defensively for good measure. The trouble is, it just draws attention to your breasts. You don't miss the way his eyes flick down briefly.

“What did she tell you?” he seems to move inexorably closer, dark eyes sparkling in the low candlelight.

“That I should not seek a dance with you,” you admit, seemingly unable to avoid answering this man truthfully.

“And why might that be?” his cadence almost a rumble now.

“You are not marriage material.”

“And is that what you want? Marriage?” Skillfully deflecting an admission it’s true.

“It’s what’s expected of me. What I may or may not want is irrelevant,” you sniff.

“What a pity. I think what you truly want may be something far more… interesting,” Anthony’s tone is like velvet as he draws closer, towering over you. Your body responds almost against your will, a flush running down your torso, a tingle in your arms.

“Irrelevant,” you repeat, as you defiantly glare up at him, heartbeat racing.

“Is it…?”

He seems to know you want this precisely because it's what you should not be doing. The tempting taste of rebellion wrapped up in a handsome face.

A warm hand rounds your elbow, and his lips suddenly brush your ear. “Also, it seems unfair to condemn me a rake based on the words of another, does it not? Should a man not get the chance to defend himself? Surely you are of sound enough mind to draw your own conclusions?”

The irony of attempting to defend himself against the accusation while acting the archetypal rake is not lost on you, even as you fight every twitch in your body, a want to grab and be grabbed, almost an itch on your skin.

“Your current actions, my lord, do not exactly dispute her assessment,” you counter boldly, pleased you can tamp the waver in your voice.

His laugh is a warm gust down your neck that makes you shiver.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, “and yet… here you still are…”

You can’t argue with that. You could indeed easily move away, his hold on your elbow symbolic…. No, it’s that you most definitely don’t want to.

“You are a rake,” you murmur, even as your lips brush his cheekbone.

“And you like it…” he breathes raggedly, skittering across your skin as your heart pounds in your ears.

God, if that isn’t the truth.

“Do I?” you sass and pull back a few inches.

Anthony’s nostrils flare, and his eyes flash. The pluckier you get, the more it riles him up and reels him in.

“There is something you could teach all the other debutantes out there,” he tilts his head to one side and reaches for the dance card tied to your wrist, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Enlighten me…”

“That a feisty young woman is far more attractive than a demure, meek girl,” he breathes, a finger now tracing the ribbon on the card, lingering on the delicate skin of your wrist.

“So you can domesticate a free spirit?” you sneer disapprovingly.

“Oh no, no. The very opposite. To let her run wild…” his fingers trail up your forearm, causing goosebumps in their wake, your breath quickening. Then he leans in, his lips by your ear again, breath hot “....and hang on tight because that will be the ride of your damn life.”

“Rake,” you murmur.

“Rebel,” he rumbles in return, goading.

Exhilaration makes you turn a fraction into his cheek, and it’s the permission he needs, moving to capture your lips with his.

Fireworks explode in your body as, for the first time, a man kisses you. And not just a peck. No, it's a soft, sensual dance at first, his lips warm and wet, opening yours and inviting you to take it further. And you do. Grab his jacket sleeves, feeling the muscular outline of his biceps underneath as his hands move to grasp your waist and haul you against his body. The kiss turns hot and electric, his tongue entwining with yours, you following his motions, a flash of heat spiking through you as if struck by some powerful force. He pulls back, breaking the kiss, both of you breathing hard and staring at each other.

“Tell me to stop…” he challenges, but everything in his demeanour tells you it's the opposite of what he wants. And it's definitely not what you want.

You bite your lip and shake your head.

There is a noise, male, hungry, utterly arousing, and then he is back on you. Kissing like wildfire and walking you backwards against the wall, velour wallpaper tickling the skin of your shoulders where your dress scoops lower. His hands are hot through the thin silk of your gown, grasping your waist and pulling you into him. His mouth tastes of whiskey, a hint of smoke and something earthy that is sinful.

“What do you want to know?” he asks teasingly, his mouth ghosting over yours. “Do you wish to know a man’s body, to know pleasure, or possibly both?”

Each option sounds wonderful, tempting, perfect even. But there is one that trips from your tongue.

“Pleasure,” you answer greedily, feeling selfish to continue chasing this fizzing effervescence you have inside, both sweeter and tarter than any champagne.

“Mmm, I thought you might say that,” he chuckles, nuzzling your cheek.

“Next question. And I shall offer no clues as to what this might mean if you do not know already…. But do you want…” he pauses to swipe his tongue sinfully into your mouth, “tongue…” he breathes, pulling away a fraction, “or…” his hand cups your chin, then two fingers push between your lips, an earthy, smoky taste from holding cigars now lingering on your tongue, “...fingers.”

Instinctively, you close your mouth around the invading digits and suckle lightly, his eyes flaring, and a groan catches in his throat.

1“Good god, I wish you had said you want to know a man….”

You have no idea what he might be referring to, but you can't resist suckling harder on his fingertips, feeling wanton but enjoying the power you seem to hold over him in this moment, his entire dazzling focus on you.

“You did not answer my question, y/n,” he scolds gently, slowly removing his fingers from your mouth and trailing your saliva over your own throat.

“Whatever you will,” you breathe, already missing him in your mouth as his fingers trail lower, leaving a dampness over the swell of your breast that makes your breath quicken.

His lips are back on yours, demanding, plundering kisses that have you wanting more. So much more. As he pulls away, his lips are red and damp, and his dark eyes intense, sparkling in the candlelight.

“Perhaps my fingers are best, for this circumstance at least,” he opines, sounding a touch reluctant, “less incriminating should we be swiftly interrupted…”

Part of you wishes there was some furniture you could push against the door so no one could disturb you, let him do whatever - everything - he wants. Because if it makes you feel anything like what you do now, you’d know you would allow it, consequences and propriety be damned.

“Pull up your dress,” he orders lowly, his lips on your cheek.

He makes a tiny noise of approval as you put your hands at your hips and grab handfuls of your dress and chemise until the hem is high above your knees, looping the fabric over your forearms, the air cool on your thighs. He drops a little soft kiss upon the shell of your ear as if to reward your obedience.

But then you gasp as suddenly his hand slides down your front and cups between your legs, so much heat through the thin layer of your silk undergarment. He makes an approving noise, apparently liking what he finds, pulling your earlobe into his mouth and grazing it softly with his teeth. Two of his fingers drag achingly slowly against the soft material. Your skin seems as if it could vibrate straight off your body and you cling to him, eyes going wide at the intensity from just a light touch.

“So perfectly responsive”, he gusts. “I almost forgot how very beguiling an innocent can be… and such a keen one at that.”

You can tell from his inflexion it's intended as a compliment; he seems so very charmed by your willingness. And you are so very eager for him, for the sensations he is wringing from your body never to cease. As those fingers keep stroking, your mouth is slack, and you press your breasts into him, wanting no inch of your body away from his. His lips are hot on your cheekbone, the other arm caged around you.

He doesn't make any move to discard your underwear. Instead, he just keeps stroking over a spot between your legs that is rapidly swelling under his touch, viscous warm liquid leaking into the silky material and seeping through onto his fingers.

“Perfect,” he growls and moves faster.

“It feels so different…” you gulp, then clarify, “...to when I touch myself.”

He inhales sharply, his eyes flashing dark, and his fingers curl more insistent against your nub.

“You do this to yourself? An innocent?” He looks unbridled now with both admiration and lust.

You just nod, biting your lip.

“My perfect little rebel….” he lauds.

He is huffing into your hairline now, scenting you as you writhe instinctually on his questing fingers. Someone else’s touch is a magnified experience of what you have done alone before. This is wholly other: another human with you in this moment, him panting with desire, his body heat seeping through clothing, his fingers calloused in a way that catches perfectly on your swollen flesh as his resonant voice and smoky mint breath pleads with you not to stop.

Grabbing onto his lapel, needing an anchor, you stare up into his deep brown eyes, the look on his face utterly triumphal, his lips lowering to cover yours, breathing each other’s air. Something hard pressing into your hip bone as you ride boldly upon his fingers now. A shiver runs up your spine at how good this is, little sparks firing from the pinpoint of pleasure between your legs. The coiled spring of desire is so much more profound with him, a delicious tension in your whole being. He keeps muttering low words of praise of how well you are doing, and how beautiful you look. Your skin flushes with arousal and exertion, and a bead of wetness runs down your inner thigh just as you are climbing to that point of no return.

Suddenly, he withdraws his touch, your responding whine trailing off as his fingers swipe through that trickle of moisture. Then you stare transfixed as he brings it up to his mouth and sucks the dewiness from his fingertips, a hungry noise hitching in his throat as he does. It makes you desperate for him, for this. To reach that pinnacle with him. A burning want to do it time and time again. To find your pleasure with him, for him. To experience everything that can happen between a man and a woman.

“I want to know a man too,” you exhale unevenly, not able to censor your wayward thoughts, your abandoned clit throbbing hard in your soaked underwear.

He groans, the vibration of it quaking through him and that hand now cups your jaw. “By god, you will,” he asserts roughly, and you can smell traces of your arousal on his fingers as he leans in and kisses you deeply, the flavour of it tart on his tongue.

“Please touch me again…” your voice a broken plea.

His smile is devilish handsomeness personified, as he does just as you ask. You cry out over his lips as he expertly swipes over that spot again, rubbing even faster now. Rocketing you right back to the point where you have to cling to him, your knees buckling.

His other hand snakes around your body and grabs your breast through your dress. It makes you groan loudly, a yearning for him to strip off the layers, rip away your stays and snag your pebbled nipple between his teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he demands hotly, and you realise your face must give away something of your licentious wishes.

“I want your mouth on my breasts,” you confess the truth raggedly, riding his fingers again, whimpering and moaning with each expert flick of his fingers.

He growls, more untamed creature than man, and he pinches you through the layers, seemingly knowing exactly where your nipple is. The sensation, even though dulled through cotton and silk, makes you shudder and call out loudly. To the point he hushes you, deciding next to swallow your cries with kisses. Stealing your breath with his tongue as his fingers swirl in a rough circle between your legs, a drag that is so delicious, it hurls you right over the edge you skate and into oblivion.

Your whole body convulses, him pressing you into the wall to stay upright, your lungs tight as you scream your release into his mouth, vision swimming, a complete fuzziness as you float away. Nothing like you have experiences alone, a hundred times more visceral, carnal—utterly addictive.

As you return to the room, he is rutting himself against your hip bone, a solid mass between his legs. The feral nature of his movements awakens something in you, and you grasp his neck and pull him down to your lips.

“Do it,” you challenge through gritted teeth.

Wanting him to reach his peak as much as you just have. Not yet understanding fully what is happening, but everything between your legs clenching and aching for something you can't articulate as he follows your bidding and ruts himself against you furiously now, grunting. You kiss him with ferocity and reach around to grab his shapely rear to encourage his movements.

That’s the catalyst he needs, and, with an almost howl, he stills, pressed harshly into you, his face contorted, slack-jawed, and you feel a bloom of warmth through the wool of his trousers.

There are no words spoken for a few moments, just harsh breathing, the air heavy with the tang of sex. Then he moves to cup your face tenderly, closing his eyes and tilting his forehead on yours.

“Good god,” he sounds gravelly, sated, floored. “I….”

But he is interrupted by the sound of the door handle being jiggled violently, making you both spring apart lightning fast, clothing being rapidly rearranged. The door finally relents, and a footman’s face appears in the crack. He likely can surmise, and perhaps indeed scent, what has just transpired.

“I wondered where you had got to, Sir,” he clears his throat, “but then I was passing by and knew this had to be you,” a barely contained smirk suggesting he could well have been guarding the door for a while.

“Jenkins!” Anthony’s relief is palpable.

“The carriage, Sir, I presume?” he offers pointedly.

“Yes, please,” Anthony nods. As the man disappears, leaving the door ajar, Anthony’s hand slips into yours. Then, in a tone that brokers no argument - not that you have an ounce of interest in doing so - he declares, “You, my delicious little rebel, are coming with me….”

masterlist • wips • taglist (must be following this blog to be tagged)

Anthony taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @delehosies @m-rae23 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies @urfavnoirette @cinnamoodles @blackdxggr @alexandrainlove @witty-wallflower @black-kitten-imagines @detectiveviridian @themadhattersqueen @tinypinkdragon @fudge13 @fanfiction-she-wrote

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eufezco · 6 months ago

Text

RUMOR HAS IT

There had always been rumours about you and Anthony, but what if they were true now?

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader (angst, a bit of smut) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language

You never allowed yourself to be the centerpiece of a scandal, it wasn't as if you were looking for it, you knew what that did to people's reputations, it was simply that you had always avoided them with all your strengths. Lacking a male figure in your family and being the oldest sister, you became the visible face of your family to society and you could never allow something as stupid as a scandal to destroy the reputation you worked so hard to build.

Since the death of your father, the Queen's favor has always been with your family. She gave you the same opportunities as the men who were the heads of their own families and she always made sure that neither you nor your mother and sisters were missing anything. But now not even the Queen's favor could help you as you saw how everything you did to make society forget that you were a woman leading a family was falling apart.

There had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you and Anthony Bridgerton had. You were often seen together but there was never a gesture, no matter how small, that could make people talk about a possible romance between you two.

Yet they did.

And they loved it.

At balls all eyes were on you when you danced together, everyone murmured when you were seen going into the Bridgertons' house, and on several occasions, your mamas were asked about the date of the wedding. That's why the members of the ton did not doubt for a second that what Lady Whistledown wrote about you was true.

The Queen called your name before you could leave the room.

You closed your eyes as your lower lip trembled with rage. No matter how much trust you had with Queen Charlotte, you could not disobey her in another family's presence. You took a deep breath and ran your hands down the skirt of your dress in an attempt to calm down before you turned around.

Anthony was not alone, his mother, very dear to you, and his younger sister Daphne, a good friend of yours, were with him. The presence of him and the two women made you feel helpless and you felt like you were between a rock and a hard place with the Queen forcing you to stay in the room and the Bridgertons ready to say what they needed to say.

Violet and Daphne Bridgerton looked at you with pity and as much as you hated when people looked at you that way, at least they had the decency to look at you. Not like Anthony, whose arms were behind his back, and his big brown eyes were fixed on the floor.

—Lord Bridgerton is here to apologize —Queen Charlotte said with a big smile while looking at the man in front of you with real hope that all of this would be solved within minutes. Did she really think that this trap was going to solve anything? You were so angry that you could barely hear the Queen talk, only a deafening beeping sound.

Anthony was completely static in front of you. The Queen played with her hands waiting for the man to take his turn to speak. He was trying to find the right words, ones that didn't make you feel worse. But at the same time, he wanted to be honest in order to fix what happened. The best way to do that would be, as the Queen said, to start by asking for your forgiveness.

—I wanted to apolo—.

—Do not. I do not want you to apologize —You said before Anthony could finish the sentence.

Anthony grunted, annoyed. —Then what is it that you want from me if not my apologies?

You were surprised by the sudden change in the tone of his voice. —You should have stood with me!

He huffed a laugh. —Do you truly believe you have been the only one affected by this?

—I only know that one of us has had to hide as if she had the plague and the other one has been able to go on with his life as if nothing happened.

—This is not working, obviously. —Queen Charlotte said, defeated.

Violet Bridgerton and Daphne were standing behind Anthony. Both women shared a few glances after seeing how much tension there was between the two of you. They were concerned about your friendship being broken forever.

—No, it is not. She is not willing to listen —Anthony answered the Queen.

—Listen? —You tilted your head slightly, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. —You know what I have been listening to these days, Anthony? I have been listening to my little sisters asking my mother if it was true what people were saying about me. I have, also, been listening to people talk and then suddenly shut up when I walked in anywhere.

—You still think you have been the only one affected. —Anthony shook his head. —I have a family as well—!

—You are a man, Anthony! This has not been half as difficult for you as it has been for me. People have not talked and said half as much about you as they have said about me and my family! You should have protected both of our reputations but you abandoned me as the coward that you are! So do not come here and try to give me lessons because I have proven to be twice the gentleman that you are.

Everyone was silent in the Queen's salon.

—Good evening, my Lady. —Anthony bowed slightly in front of you and left, clenching his fists and with loud footsteps that echoed throughout the room.

You were left alone in the Queen's salon along with Charlotte herself and the two Bridgerton women. They looked at you expecting a reaction, some word or gesture to let them know what was going through your mind, but instead, you also left the room. You followed the same path he did down the Queen's large corridor but instead of going outside, you continued walking angrily through the palace.

As you walked in your head echoed all the words that Anthony had said, his fake apology, how he seemed oblivious to how he had covered his back and left you unprotected. You ended up going into one of the Queen's rooms, you knew the place very well but at that very moment you didn't even care which room it was, you just needed to rest and be alone for a minute.

You closed the door and rested your forehead against the wood of it, taking a big breath of air.

—Were you following me?

You turned around, scared by the sudden male voice. Once you realized who he was, you huffed a laugh and rolled your eyes.

—Trust me when I tell you that following you anywhere is the last thing in the world I would do.

Anthony shook his head. You tried to get out of the room but he spoke again.

—I have already asked for your forgiveness. What else should I do?

—It is too late for that, Anthony.

—Surely there is something I can do.

—Anthony... —You called his name while shaking your head. He was stepping closer to you and you threatened to walk out of the room.

—What if we married?

There was silence for a few seconds. His deep brown eyes looked at you waiting for an answer.

—I could never marry you —. You stated.

Anthony's brow furrowed slightly. He could not hide that the determined tone in your voice hurt him.

—After everything that has happened, when I think of you it is the closest thing to hatred I have ever felt —You explained. You could see the expression on Anthony's face change, he never thought he would live to listen to you compare what you felt for him to hatred. —I could never marry you, Anthony.

—You do not mean that.

The confidence in his tone surprised you. You doubted whether it was he who did not want to believe what you said or if you didn't sound convincing enough.

—Oh, yes I do.

Anthony shook his head. He took a few steps to get closer to you and you clenched your jaw and tightened your fists, taking your hand to the doorknob. —After all these years of friendship you tell me that the only thing you feel for me is hate?

You moved away from the door and walked towards him, pointing a finger at Anthony. —Do not dare to give me the after all these years of friendship when you left me the way you did. —You said through gritted teeth.

—I have already apologized and even asked you to marry me and it is still not enough so tell me what to do! —Anthony was frowning angrily as he moved closer to you. Your finger hit against his hard chest and he looked you in the eyes.

—Nothing you do will be enough!

Anthony grabbed your cheeks and kissed you. You pushed him away and both of you stared at each other for a few seconds. Him kissing you in the middle of the argument made you even angrier and you wanted to hit him, but instead, you pressed your lips against his.

Your hands sank into his brown hair, tugging at the root and making him groan into your mouth. His hands went to your ass and squeezed it shamelessly as he walked you to the nearest piece of furniture which happened to be a large, round table in the center of the room. Anthony removed all the decorations on the table with one swipe yet being careful not to break anything and helped you to lie down on it.

He leaned in to give you a trail of kisses, starting from your mouth to your neck until he reached your breasts. He sucked and licked the soft skin exposed thanks to your dress and you bit your lower lip.

You were still upset with him, the way you kissed him roughly and the way you were still pulling from his hair tightly showed that you had not forgotten what he had done.

You were upset with him, but you were even more upset with the person who saw you the night of the ball. You didn't know who it was, it could've been a man, a woman, it could've been a member of the ton, or someone from the service. Maybe it had been Lady Whistledown herself or maybe she heard it from someone else. The thing was that you were caught and your little adventure with Anthony ended up in one of Lady Whistledown's papers.

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Just when we thought the season couldn't possibly deliver any more excitement, it appears that two of our esteemed members have been caught in a rather compromising position. Yes, dear readers, you read that correctly. A scandal of this magnitude is rare indeed.

The scene of this scandalous event was none other than the ball at the Bridgerton house. Our sources report that the dashing Viscount Bridgerton and his enchanting lifelong friend were discovered in an embrace that left nothing to the imagination. Whispers suggest that this clandestine affair has been ongoing for some time, much to the oblivion of their respective families.

Dear readers, brace yourselves for the inevitable fallout. Will this scandal lead to social ostracism, or will our impassioned couple find a way to weather the storm? Your faithful scribe will remain ever vigilant, ready to report the next development in this thrilling saga.

As always, I remain your faithful correspondent, ever ready to reveal the most delicious secrets of our glittering world.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

It was true. Everything she wrote about Anthony and you was true. No matter how hard you both tried to deny it, it happened. Anthony went on with his life as if nothing had happened, still denying it even though people found it hard to believe the viscount. He distanced himself from you and as much as you tried to talk to him and ask for his help, he had to protect the Bridgerton name.

But he couldn't take it anymore, his chest burned at the thought of losing you, he would wake up at night after dreaming about the last time he saw you. In front of his family, Anthony tried to pretend that everything was fine but every Bridgerton knew, from the way Anthony acted every time they talked about you, that Lady Whistledown wasn't lying.

Now that Anthony had you for himself again he wasn't planning on letting you go again.

When his hands were making their way up your inner thighs, the door opened all of a sudden and you parted from each other as fast as you could. You stood up from the table as Anthony brought his hands behind his back and bowed his head while you fixed your dress.

—You two do not learn! —Daphne exclaimed.

You bit the inside of your cheeks, embarrassed. You and Anthony shared a glance and you noticed that his cheeks were flushed.

—In our defense, we are getting married —. You excused yourselves.

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nikkisheep · 8 months ago

Text

To Be Alone With You (Part Six)

Anthony Bridgerton x female!Sharma!sister reader

Benedict Bridgerton x female!Sharma!sister reader

Warnings: improper alone time (Ben & reader), sexual tension, me as a writer questioning if I want Ben or Anthony to be the end ship, kissing, male nudity, reader fences Benedict (I know nothing about fencing so I'm sorry if this is bad), semi-smut, handjob, hair pulling

*One of the longer chapters

Summary: You spend more time with a certain Bridgerton brother and start to question whether you could be happy with Benedict rather than Anthony.

Playlist:

Labyrinth by Taylor Swift

If Only by Dove Cameron

Back to the Start by Somo

Dark Paradise by Lana Del Rey (Maybe not a good choice, just depends)

Tag List: @shealuna , @m-rae23 , @littlepeanut03 , @aellabridgerton @sydney-m, @faatxma , @wildthoughtnananna @uraesthete, @themadhattersqueen, @theroyalmanatee, @urfavnoirette, @budugu, @helen06dreamer, @galactict3a, @imagineme2you. @sabii5, @anehkael, @aesthetic0cherryblossom, @lxovesgy, @lemonwithstupidity, @luvwithau, @stvrdustalexx, @jess4rush, @tallrock35, @msrawog

Not many nights had passed since the ball and you were being invited to the Bridgerton house by Daphne, or at least you thought. The days following the ball had been crazy as you were having numerous suitors calling on you because they thought the viscount had forgotten your sister and set his mind on you. Not that it was completely wrong, but you were not talking to Anthony and would not do so until the wedding which was to be in about a month. Not that you were keeping up for when you would have to walk down the aisle, not in a white dress.

Upon your arrival to the Bridgerton home, you were wandering around the house trying to find something interesting. You wandered to the garden and sat under a tree. The refreshing wind cooled you as the tree limbs were shading you away from the harsh sun. You close your eyes and listen to the sounds of nature. Soon, rushed footsteps and shouts had called your attention and you decided to follow it.

---

Benedict and Colin were fencing, and it looked like Colin was winning this match. Benedict was sweating in his fencing uniform and a bead of sweat slowly drips down the side of his face and disappears under his collar.

"Are you going to just stand there and stare or are you going to come over?" Benedict called out, snapping you out of the trance-like state you were in.

"How long have you boys been fencing?" You ask, shielding your eyes from the sun.

"About an hour," Colin smirked, watching you watch Benedict. "I actually have grown quiet tired."

"Would you like me to take over, Mr. Bridgerton?" You asked, hands folded together in front of your waist.

"Do they teach you girls how to fence during your lessons?"

"No, but I have seen my cousins do it."

"You are quiet aware that fencing is a man's sport, Miss Sharma," Benedict said, pushing you. He knew that you would see it as a challenge and it was, the results were exactly what he wanted.

"Rule number one, Mr. Bridgerton, do not underestimate a woman."

Colin mentions your clothing and you realized that it would be harder to move in your dress. You press your lips into a thin line before deciding to walk to the shed. Once inside, you look through the wardrobe inside, finding a pair of fencing clothes. You pull at the buttons of your dress, slipping out of the many layers, including your corset. Putting on the trousers felt odd but they were quite comfortable, more so than your corset.

Coming out of the shed, you walk to the boys again, pushing the leftover shirt into the trousers. You gave them a twirl and beamed brightly.

"Well, don't they fit lovely?" You smiled.

"Yes...yes they do," Benedict looked at the sky, not trying to hide that he couldn't look at you. Your shirt wasn't completely buttoned and Benedict was struggling not to look.

"Are you all right, brother?" Colin asked, a teasing grin creeping onto his face.

"I am quite well, you need not to worry about me brother."

You move closer to him and press you hand against his forehead and felt his temperature. Your breathes mixed in front of you, your chest was practically pressed against his. Benedict's first instinct was to lean in for a kiss, you were intoxicating to him, but as soon as he went to slightly move, he pulled away.

"Shall we return to fencing?" He spoke into the silent garden.

All while Colin was just sitting on the bench, watching the interaction between his brother and the love of his other brother's life.

---

Colin eventually leaves the garden because the heat nearly made him pass out. As you were fencing Benedict, he kept talking as a distraction, and it was working.

"Darling, are you prepared for the art lesson that I have planned for us?" He asked.

"Can't make it, Mr. Bridgerton," You said. "I have a tea party with Daphne. She sent me an invitation letter."

"That was me," He said, tapping you on your left side.

"Benedict, did you invite me here to teach me art or something else?"

The two of you stepped closer, leaving the fencing weapons on the ground. His hands came to rest on your hips, looking around the garden quickly before turning back to you.

"Did you or did you not come here for an art lesson and nothing more?" He asked, dipping his mouth to the underside of your jaw.

"I came here thinking that I would be having tea with your sister," You gasp when his teeth graze your skin. "Benedict, someone will see."

"Let them see," He said. "You should be mine."

Your head tips backwards as his mouth continues the assault on your neck. You let out a moan and he pulls away, placing his index finger over your mouth, making a shhh-ing sound.

"Quiet darling, do you want me to stop?"

You shook you head.

"Words or I will stop."

"I don't want you to stop, Mr. Bridgerton."

His mouth pressed against yours in a searing kiss, lips moving in sync and his hand moves down to your bottom. He walks you over to the bench that Colin had been sitting and he sat you down, bending down to kiss you, never wanting your lips to leave his. You pull back, pressing your hand against his chest and try to catch your breath.

"Stop...stop, we shouldn't do this," You whisper as his mouth chases yours. He is in a kneeling position and his hand is on your hips, covered by your trousers.

"We shouldn't, but we want to and who are we to deny our desires?" He pants.

"Benedict."

---

Making it to his art studio, you laugh at his rain soaked clothes. You were still in your fencing clothes and your dress was in Benedict's hands. You brace yourself against a table, smiling as your hair clung to your face and neck. You were breathtaking in Benedict's mind. How Anthony did not see how truly beautiful you were was beyond him.

"Shall we get to drawing?" He asked, breaking the silence in the cooler room.

"Yes," You said. "I was wondering if I could draw you?"

He nodded and moved to the couch. You shook your head, motioning him to come over to you.

"How do you want me?" He asked, smirking at the fact that you were watching him with such attentive eyes.

"I want you...right here," You moved him to the center of the room, right in front of the window that was lit up by the thunder and lightening from outside.

You moved to the couch to start sketching him, frowning because you could not get his figure right. You walked to him and looked up at him, your noses nearly touching.

"Does sketching me include you being so close to me?"

"I need your shirt off. I need you naked."

"Why?" He asked.

"So I can get a better view of how your body is shaped."

He slowly starts to unbutton his shirt and shrugged it off. Smirking when he noticed your hand instantly reached out to touch his toned chest. He grabbed your sketchbook out of your hands, placing it on the nearest table, and placed them on his warm body. Your mouth opened slightly at the feeling of him. He felt warm, sturdy, and perfect.

His hand was still on yours and he slowly moved it down his chest to his abs to his trousers. You gasped when he moved your hand lower.

"Do you feel what you have done to me?" He asks. "How crazy you have me feeling?"

You nod. Too dumbfounded to say anything.

He moves your hand back up and then completely off him. He takes the button of his trousers into his fingers and pops it out of the hole. He then slowly moves them down his strong, long legs. He then pulls down his underwear. His cock springs up and hits his stomach. He was big. You could tell that the genes in this family were extremely strong. You shook your head and grabbed your sketchbook, instantly drawing what you saw.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, his wet hair sticking to his skin. Water droplets were still falling from his head and dripping down his body. The lightening from outside lit up his entire body, making him look like a literal angel.

"This is exactly what I needed." You walked over to him once again, pressing your lips against his. His mouth opened to allow your tongue entrance, swallowing his moans of pleasure. You were doing that to him. You were making him needy for you. You were making him want you, he needed you.

You grip his leaking cock, slowly moving up and down, feeling the silky skin. He threw his head back in pleasure as your hand stroked him.

"Oh my..." He gasped.

"Is this what you need, Mr. Bridgerton?" You look up at him before grabbing his hair to pull him down to your level. "Is this what you need?"

"Y-Yes," He stutters as he tries to hold in his moans.

"Let me hear you, baby." Your hand starts to get more slick with his pre-cum as he gets closer and closer to his end. He starts to shake in your hands as you speed up your hand. He starts to curse and moans started to spill from his mouth.

"Oh fuck, darling," He moans out as he cums on your hand.

You kept pumping him as he shakes from his orgasm. You slowly come to a stop and look him straight in the eyes as you lick his cum off your hand and moan at the taste, eyes rolling back.

"Oh fuck..." He pants, hair sticking to his forehead.

"I love you," He whispers, you don't hear it and he quickly gathers himself up.

"How was your drawing?" He asked, once dressed. His hands were resting on your hips as he presses a quick kiss to your neck.

"I think I will need to finish it a different day."

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x sharma!reader #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader smut #anthony bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton x sharma!sister!reader #benedict bridgerton smut #to be alone with you

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greycloudsinwinter · 8 months ago

Text

Master list ❤️❤️

A court of thorns and roses:

Platonic inner circle x reader x romantic azriel

Cassian x reader

High lord rhysand x reader

Thesan high lord of dawn x reader

Yandere inner circle x reader romantic

Kallias x reader

Amarantha x reader

My hero academia:

Katsuki bakugo x reader

Endeavour x reader

Eijiro kirishima x reader

Deku x reader

Twisted wonderland:

Azul x reader

Jamil x reader

Vert x reader

Bridgerton:

Poly bridgerton boys x reader

Colin bridgerton x reader

Game of thrones/ hotd :

The mountain x reader

Khal drogo x targeryan reader

Khal drogo x escaped reader

Khal drogo question

Khal drogo x reader smut

Jamie Lannister protected x reader

Maegor x reader

Rhaegar targeryan x reader

Maegor x wife reader with child

Aegon I x reader

Rickard stark x reader

Tywin Lannister x targeryan first wife reader

Jason Lannister x targeryan wife

Aegon I x reader with children

Maegor x male reader

Jaehaerys I x reader

Tyland Lannister x reader

Yanderes who become kings guard for male reader

Otto hightower x reader

Daemon targeryan x reader

Maegor x escapee reader

Ned stark question 1

Stannis Baratheon x reader

Otto Hightower x reader x platonic alicent

Poly viserys and Otto x reader

Poly viserys and Otto x reader question 1

Poly viserys and Otto x reader questions 2

Criston Cole x reader

Corys velaryon x reader

Criston Cole x reader part 2

Otto x reader x viserys question 3

Platonic aegon x platonic aemond x reader

Erryk cargyll x targeryan princess x arryk cargyll

Jacaerys veleryan x reader

Harry Potter / fantastic beasts :

Tom riddle x reader question

Gellert grindelwald x reader

Orion black x reader

Newt scamander x reader

Aberforth dumbledore x reader

Tom riddle x malfoy reader

Knights of walpurgis x reader

Cygnus black x reader

Cygnus black x reader questions

Cygnus black x reader questions 2

Pollux black x reader

Cygnus black x reader question 3

Cygnus black x reader question 4

Cygnus reaction to reader not wanting her children to be death eaters

Who wants the most children Orion or Cygnus black?

Orion black part 2

Poly orion and Cygnus black x reader

Poly marauders x Slytherin reader

Walpurgis x muggle reader

Lucius malfoy x reader

Salazar Slytherin x reader

Hobbit/ lotr :

Thranduil x fairy reader

Thranduil x fairy reader with children

Thranduil x fairy reader 3

Thranduil x fairy reader part of the company

Thranduil x fairy reader question

Haldir x reader

Would yandere Thranduil still join the battle of five armies

Yandere thorin Oakenshield x reader

Twilight:

Marcus volturi x reader

Aro volturi x reader

Cauis volturi x reader

Marcus volturi x reader part 2

Marcus volturi x stubborn reader

Aro volturi x reader (who doesn’t care )

Beaststars :

Ogma x reader

Tem x reader

Poly gohin and oguma x reader

X-men:

Erik lehsnherr x reader

Erik lehsnherr questions 1

Historical characters:

Henry VIII x reader

Henry VIII x reader question 1

Baldwin IV x reader

Oc’s

Knight x reader

249 notes · View notes

uyuartik · 11 months ago

Text

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

part one | part two | part three | ao3

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering.

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball.

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though.

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight.

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you.

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you.

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you.

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others.

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?"

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?"

"I could never claim otherwise."

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?”

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.” He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.”

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.) But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets.

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend.

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people.

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.�� You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face.

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs."

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear.

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion.

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan smut #star wars fanfiction #my pen #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fics #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan smut

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bloodyboi · 2 months ago

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for your "what do you hate about smut fics" post. When authors make a character speak aave and act ghetto.

omg yes. As a black person, please stop. Act like a real writer and write.

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lanawinterscigarettes · 2 months ago

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okay, this is a kinktober request but it doesn't have to be done if you don't feel comfortable with the content mentioned.

Anthony Bridgerton being intimate with a transmasc reader who hasn't had top surgery. The kinks would be body worship and nipple play (specifically sucking on the nipples). Begging can also be incorporated where Anthony is the one begging.

Thank you!

I love this request so so much!! this was by far one of my favorites to write, so thank you so much for sending it in <3

Kinktober 2024 Day 13: body worship, nipple play, and begging with Anthony Bridgerton x transmasc reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, body worship, nipple play, begging, Anthony's kinda subby here (sorry I just couldn't resist), pre-op chest for a transmasc reader (so they still have their breasts and stuff), brief mention of Anthony viewing the reader as his god/a religious figure (just adding that in case anyone feels uncomfortable with religious imagery in that context), mentioned penetrative sex (reader receiving)

"I love you, darling. You mean the absolute world to me," Anthony muttered as he brushed his nose and mouth against your neck in an affectionate nuzzle, holding onto you as you laid in the bed together. He didn't always show how much he adored you in public, but he more than made up for it when you were alone, clinging to you as if at any second you might disappear.

"I love you too, sweetheart." You watched him with a soft smile, finding it amusing that he was so close he was practically laying on top of you. To other people, he may have been Lord Bridgerton, Viscount and head of the household, but to you he was just Anthony, and that was enough.

"Mm..." He let out a hum as he dipped his head down to the spot where your neck met your collarbone, pressing light kisses to the area. His hands absentmindedly moved up and down your body as he kissed you, caressing you in a gentle and affectionate manner.

One of your hands moved up to absentmindedly play with his hair as you watched him, his lips moving from your collarbone down to the valley of your chest where your shirt wasn't buttoned all the way. You could feel his hands twitch from the spot where they were currently resting on your waist, as if he was itching to touch you more but didn't want to without getting your permission first.

"Anthony..." You softly cooed out his name, something that immediately caused him to stop kissing you so he could lift his gaze up to meet yours.

"Yes, my love?" He looked like a puppy dog, honestly. That was the best way for you to put it, especially with how his eyes got all big and needy whenever you spoke to him like that.

"Did you maybe want to do more than just kiss me, hm?" You gently prompted, knowing very well he wasn't going to take the initiative to ask for what he wanted without a little nudging from you first.

His eyes immediately dropped at the question, his cheeks flushing pink as he hid his face in your chest, refusing to look at you. "No..." His voice came out sounding a bit muffled when he spoke, though you could still detect the lie there quite easily.

Chuckling at his response, you gently tugged at his hair in an attempt to try to get him to meet your gaze again. "I know you're not telling me the whole truth. You can be honest with me, sweetheart, it's okay."

Ever so slowly, he brought his head up so he could look at you for a second time, appearing visibly flustered. "I- I want to touch them," he admitted in a quiet and somewhat nervous voice, as if he was worried about how you'd react.

You picked up on his demeanor right away, noting just how unsure he seemed. "You want to touch what, honey?" You questioned while running your fingers through his hair, hoping to sooth him.

Even if he still seemed anxious, it was clear your gentle show of affection had eased his nerves, if only slightly. Although he was embarrassed to ask, he took a deep breath and did so anyway. "Y- Your breasts. I was wondering if I- if I could touch them, if you'd be alright with it."

No wonder he was so nervous. Even though you'd both been intimate with each other many times before, he still preferred to ask if you were okay with him touching certain areas of your body beforehand so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable. He was such a gentleman in that aspect.

While your answer was obviously going to be yes, you couldn't help but have a little bit of fun with him beforehand. "What do you say?" You prompted, moving your hand from his hair down to his chin so he wouldn't be able to hide his face from you again like he had before.

The whine he let out sounded like music to your ears. "P- Please," he begged in a barely audible whisper, his eyes wide and desperate as they stared up at you. "Please let me touch your breasts, and- and suck on them, too."

The last part of his sentence may have surprised you slightly, but you'd be lying if you said the thought of him sucking on your nipples didn't turn you on. "Hm, I don't think I heard you. I think you'll have to speak up." You used your hand underneath his chin to tilt his head up a little further, ensuring he was looking at you when you spoke to him.

"Please," he begged for a second time in a way that was louder than before. "Please, I- I want to touch them and suck on them, please, darling."

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He could hear the amusement in your voice, and normally it'd make him want to be snarky in return just to spite you, but not this time.

His hands quickly moved to unbutton the rest of your shirt, his lips finding their way to the valley between your breasts yet again while he helped to rid you of the unnecessary fabric that was still in the way. As soon as it was gone, his hands went to your breasts, carefully cupping them as his thumbs lightly brushed over your nipples.

"You're so gorgeous," he murmured fervently, worshipping your body as if it were an altar. In a way, it was, because Anthony swore he found religion with you. No one else made him want to drop to his knees and beg, not even the almighty himself.

"Oh, darling, you flatter me so." A sigh of content left you upon observing him and his obvious eagerness at getting to touch and please you.

It was hard not to arch your back up the moment his mouth attached onto one of your nipples, sucking gently as the hand that had been on your breast moved down to rest on your ribs, his thumb caressing them affectionately. The hand that wasn't there was still on your other breast, caressing it in a way that mimicked receiving an intimate and personal massage.

Once he was satisfied with the attention his mouth had given to the first nipple, he switched over to the second, giving it the same treatment. The way he touched you was careful and a little uncertain, but still filled with the deep-rooted love he had for you.

You didn't always find yourself overly thrilled with the way you looked, but it was hard to hate it when you had someone who loved you so openly and unconditionally like he did. And if there was one thing about Anthony Bridgerton, he was going to take the time to remind you of his love every chance he got.

"You're making me feel so good right now, sweetheart," you commented while brushing your fingers through his dark chestnut hair, observing him with a fond gaze.

"I am?" He questioned seriously while picking his head up, as if he didn't seriously expect you to give him that sort of praise.

You just barely refrained from letting out a laugh. "Yes, of course you are. You always make me feel so good."

It was hard to miss the way his face practically lit up at your words, seeming to beam with pride upon having your approval. "Is it okay if I continue, then?" He asked in a way that was a bit bashful, and this time you did laugh, though it was playful and not malicious.

"What do you say first?"

He knew exactly what you wanted from him when you asked that. "Please, darling, please allow me to continue." The way he begged with such desperation in a voice that was so silky and smooth, how could you say no?

"Of course you can." The moment you gave him permission to keep going he dipped his head back down and began to pepper your chest with kisses. His hands went back to caressing your breasts, your nipples now hard from the way he had been sucking on them earlier.

He spent the entirety of the rest of the night worshiping your body, telling you just how gorgeous he found you and how amazing you were in his eyes. His movements were still slow and deliberate when he entered you later on, his mouth and hands remaining focused on your breasts and upper torso as he was determined to let you know just how perfect you were.

After you'd both finished and were done for the night, he insisted on falling asleep with his head resting on your chest and his hands glued to your sides while he laid on top of you, not wanting to be away from you even as he slept. He was nothing short of completely devoted to you, that much was certain.

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anastasiareadsnwrites · 3 months ago

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Hello, could I request Anthony bottoming for the first time and being a little nervous & embarrassed? With male reader making him comfy and teasing him about how sweet he's being?

Okie that's all , thank you :)

Call Me (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Author's note: Hiya, hun. You certainly can. Thank you so much for requesting. I really do hope this was to your satisfaction. If this wasn't what you were looking for please don't be shy to request another or dm for more ideas on future works.

Summary: After meeting with a few advisors you couldn't help but notice the tension in Anthony's furrowed brows or the way his hands would twitch now and then. So you would take the reins for the night.

Warning(s): 18+, NSFW, oral, Anthony receiving, Reader giving, praise, teasing, nervous feelings, letting loose, sexual tension...more to be added

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The evening had been long, the weight of responsibility hanging over Anthony's broad shoulders as he met with advisors earlier that day. You noticed it—his furrowed brow, the way his fingers twitched involuntarily when he thought no one was watching. Anthony Bridgerton, the ever-strong and resolute figure, looked like he was holding onto something, something that was weighing him down.

But tonight, you had different plans.

As you both sat in the dimly lit room, the fire crackling in the hearth casting soft shadows on the walls, you could see the tension still written on his face. He hadn’t said much since you both returned. He was trying to hide it, but you could see right through him.

"You’re wound up," you said softly, placing a hand on his knee. He stiffened slightly at your touch, a quick intake of breath giving him away. You couldn't help but smirk at his reaction. The strong, stoic Anthony, so used to being in control, was clearly out of his element tonight.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he muttered, his voice quieter than usual, betraying the nervousness he was trying to mask. You moved closer, your hand now resting on his thigh. He glanced at you, his usually confident eyes now betraying a hint of uncertainty.

"Anthony," you murmured, leaning in until your lips were near his ear, your voice low and teasing, "I can see it. You don’t have to hide anything from me." Your fingers gently traced circles on his thigh, feeling the tension in his muscles as he struggled to keep composed. His breath hitched slightly, and you knew you had him right where you wanted.

He swallowed, looking away, his cheeks faintly pink. It wasn’t often you got to see him like this—vulnerable, nervous. "It’s just... new," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, your hand sliding further up his thigh, watching as his eyes widened ever so slightly. "It’s okay to let go, Anthony," you whispered. "You don’t always have to be in control." He looked at you, his gaze a mixture of apprehension and need. You could tell he was on the edge of giving in, of finally letting go of the constant pressure to be perfect.

His hands gripped the sides of the chair tightly as you moved to straddle him, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want you to relax," you said, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let me take care of you tonight."

Anthony let out a shaky breath, his hands finally moving to rest on your hips, his grip firm but hesitant. "I... I don’t know if I can," he murmured, his voice betraying the nervousness he was feeling.

"You can," you assured him, your hands moving to cup his face gently. "You don’t have to worry about anything. Just trust me." You pressed your lips to his, soft at first, testing, teasing. His response was slow, unsure, but then he kissed you back, a bit more confidently this time, though the nervousness still lingered.

When you pulled away, his face was flushed, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You smiled down at him, running your fingers through his hair again. "You’re so sweet when you’re nervous," you teased lightly, watching as his blush deepened.

"I’m not—" he started to protest, but you silenced him with another kiss, your lips pressing more firmly against his this time. He responded with more certainty, his grip on your hips tightening as you kissed him deeply, your hands roaming over his chest.

"You are," you whispered against his lips, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "But I like it. It’s... adorable." The word made him groan softly, embarrassed, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the ever-composed Anthony Bridgerton blushing like a schoolboy.

"Stop teasing," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. He was already giving in, slowly but surely, letting go of the control he usually clung to so tightly.

You leaned in again, your lips brushing his neck, your hands roaming lower. "Why would I do that when you look so good like this?" you whispered against his skin, feeling him shiver beneath you.

Anthony’s hands moved tentatively down your sides, still unsure, but you could feel him starting to relax, his breaths coming slower, deeper. You took your time with him, every touch, every kiss meant to reassure him, to let him know that he was safe with you.

"It’s just us," you murmured, your hands finally finding their way to the waistband of his trousers, feeling his breath hitch as you undid the first button. His eyes fluttered shut, his head resting back against the chair as he let out a shaky exhale. "You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you."

The soft sound of the fire crackling in the background was a stark contrast to the quickening breaths that escaped Anthony's lips as you worked on the buttons of his trousers, your hands moving deliberately slow. He was trying to remain composed, to hide the embarrassment that was no doubt burning through him. You could see it in the way he bit his lip, his fingers flexing slightly against your hips, unsure of where to place his hands or what to do with himself.

"Relax, Anthony," you whispered, leaning close to him, your lips grazing the shell of his ear. "Let me take care of everything."

He let out a soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, as your fingers finally tugged down his trousers just enough to free him. His skin was flushed, the anticipation and nervousness evident in the slight tremble of his body. You paused for a moment, just admiring how beautiful he looked like this—vulnerable, completely out of his element, and yet trying so hard to keep it together.

"So sweet," you murmured, your hand wrapping gently around him, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Anthony. His eyes snapped shut, a flush creeping up his neck as you stroked him slowly, deliberately, your thumb brushing over the sensitive tip in a way that had him gasping quietly. "You don’t have to hold back. You can let go with me."

His grip on your hips tightened, and you could see the conflict in his expression—the desire to give in, to let you take control, warring with the instinct to keep his composure. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stomach, just above the waistband of his trousers, and felt his muscles tense beneath your lips.

"You’re so cute when you’re like this," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as you moved lower, your mouth hovering over him now. Anthony let out a soft, choked sound, his hips twitching slightly, but he tried to keep still, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He was clearly embarrassed, but you could tell he was slowly unraveling, bit by bit.

"Stop..." he muttered, though his voice lacked any real conviction, his hands now resting at his sides, fingers digging into the armrests of the chair. He was flustered, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you placed a soft kiss on the tip of his length, your hand stroking him slowly.

"Stop what?" you teased, glancing up at him through your lashes. "Stop telling you how sweet you sound? How cute it is when you gasp like that?"

His cheeks were burning now, and he let out a shaky breath, his eyes still squeezed shut as if he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. You chuckled softly, loving how embarrassed he was—how you had the normally composed and controlled Anthony Bridgerton completely at your mercy.

You took him into your mouth, slow and deliberate, your tongue swirling around him as your hand continued to stroke what you couldn’t reach. The effect on Anthony was immediate. His head fell back, lips parting as a deep, breathless groan escaped him. His hand shot out, gripping the arm of the chair even tighter as if grounding himself.

"Ah—" His voice cracked slightly, a mix of surprise and pleasure, and you couldn’t help but hum in satisfaction at the sound. He was trying so hard to keep quiet, to hold back the noises you knew were just waiting to spill from his lips, but you wouldn’t let him hide them from you.

"Such a good boy," you whispered as you pulled back slightly, your hand working him in slow, deliberate strokes. His breath hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body as he fought against the wave of pleasure threatening to overtake him. "You don’t have to be so quiet, Anthony. Let me hear you."

He groaned again, this time louder, and you felt a surge of pride knowing that you were the one pulling these sounds from him. You took him back into your mouth, moving with more intent now, your tongue teasing every sensitive spot you knew would drive him wild. His hips jerked involuntarily, a desperate sound leaving his lips, and you could tell he was starting to lose control.

"Y-you’re... teasing," he managed to gasp out, his voice shaky and breathless. You looked up at him, his face flushed, his hair slightly disheveled from where his head had been pressed back against the chair.

"Of course I am," you whispered, pulling back just long enough to grin up at him. "You’re just too sweet not to tease, Anthony."

His reaction was priceless—the way his blush deepened, the way his hands twitched as if he didn’t know where to put them or how to react to your words. He was a mess, and you loved every second of it.

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before taking him into your mouth again, this time not holding back. You bobbed your head at a steady pace, one hand still stroking him while the other moved to gently massage his thigh. His breath was coming in shallow pants now, soft, desperate sounds escaping him as he started to give in to the pleasure.

"God—" he gasped, his hips bucking slightly as he neared the edge, his grip on the chair tightening until his knuckles turned white. You knew he was close, and you wanted to push him just a little further.

"You’re doing so well," you whispered against him, your voice low and teasing. "So cute when you’re flustered, Anthony. I love hearing you like this."

His response was a broken moan, his hips jerking up into your hand as he finally lost control. You continued to work him with your mouth and hand, drawing out every last sound, every shiver, every tremble until he couldn’t take it anymore.

"Please—" he gasped, his voice strained, barely able to get the words out. "I... I’m—"

"Let go," you murmured, your voice soft but commanding, and that was all it took. With a final, choked moan, Anthony tensed beneath you, his body shaking as he finally let go, coming undone in your hands. You didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, making sure to take everything he gave you as he rode out his release, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

When you finally pulled back, you watched as he slumped back against the chair, utterly spent, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His face was still flushed, his hair a mess, and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked.

"You were perfect," you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. "So sweet."

Anthony groaned, covering his face with his hand, clearly embarrassed, but there was a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "You’re insufferable," he muttered, though the affection in his voice was unmistakable.

"And you love it," you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He let out a soft chuckle, still too breathless to argue, and you knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Anthony was still slumped back against the chair, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His flushed skin gleamed in the dim light of the fire, and you could tell he was still trying to recover from the intensity of what just happened. His face was still hidden beneath his hand, an obvious sign of his embarrassment, and it made you smile. The usually composed and controlled Viscount was utterly undone, and he looked both adorable and vulnerable.

You leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his jawline, your lips feather-light against his skin. He flinched, but it wasn’t from discomfort—it was from being so sensitive, his body still trembling from the aftermath.

"Still embarrassed?" you teased softly, your hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. "You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. You were incredible."

Anthony peeked at you from behind his hand, his face still tinged with a deep blush, but there was a small, sheepish smile on his lips. "I wasn’t—" he started to protest, his voice hoarse, but you silenced him with a gentle kiss, your lips brushing his with just enough pressure to make him forget what he was going to say.

"You were," you whispered against his lips, your hand smoothing down his chest to rest over his stomach. "And I’m not going to stop telling you how sweet you are. I love seeing you like this."

He groaned softly, dropping his hand from his face as he looked at you, his brown eyes still clouded with embarrassment but softened by the tenderness between you. "I don’t know how you do this," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "Make me feel like... this."

You grinned, shifting to sit up straighter on his lap, your fingers brushing lightly across his skin, sending another shiver through him. "You’re just not used to letting go, Anthony," you said gently. "But I’ll help you get used to it. You don’t always have to be the one in control."

His brow furrowed, his lips parting as if to argue, but you quickly cut him off by tracing a soft path from his jaw down to his collarbone with your lips. You felt him shudder beneath you, his hands instinctively resting on your hips again, though they still hesitated, unsure.

"Let me praise you, Anthony," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin as you kissed the hollow of his throat. "You deserve it. You’ve been so good for me."

His grip on your hips tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension still coiled in his body, though it wasn’t the same nervous tension from earlier. This was something different—an anticipation, a growing need for more.

"You’re adorable when you try to stay quiet," you murmured, letting your lips trail lower. "But I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, because they’re all for me."

Anthony groaned, his head falling back against the chair as he closed his eyes, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "You’re going to be the death of me," he muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his embarrassment.

You chuckled softly, your hand sliding down his chest and lower, resting between his legs as you teased him, gently stroking the still-sensitive length of him. His breath hitched, his body tensing once again, and you could see the flush creeping back up his neck and to his face.

"Ah—" he gasped, his voice cracking as your hand worked him slowly, teasingly. He was already sensitive from before, and you could tell by the way his hips shifted beneath you that he was still trying to hold back. "You... you’re—"

"I’m what?" you teased, leaning in close again, your lips brushing his ear. "Driving you mad? Making you feel things you’re not used to?" You nipped at his earlobe gently, drawing a sharp gasp from him. "I know exactly what I’m doing, Anthony. And I’m not going to stop."

His hand shot up to grip your arm, but not to push you away. Instead, his fingers tightened around you as if anchoring himself, trying to keep from completely losing control again. He was embarrassed, flustered, but you could feel his body responding to every touch, every word.

"So sweet," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You make the most adorable sounds when you’re like this. I wonder if you know just how cute you are when you’re falling apart in my hands."

Anthony’s face burned with humiliation, but there was no mistaking the soft whimper that escaped him when you stroked him a little harder, your hand moving with just the right amount of pressure to drive him wild. His whole body tensed, his head falling back as another moan slipped from his lips, louder this time, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction.

"That’s it," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. "Let it out, Anthony. Don’t hold back for me. I want to hear everything."

He let out a shaky breath, his grip on your arm tightening as his hips bucked involuntarily into your hand. "I... I can’t—" he gasped, his voice cracking as the pleasure overwhelmed him. "I can’t hold back."

"Good," you whispered, your hand working him faster now, your lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of his neck. "I don’t want you to. I want you to fall apart for me again, just like before."

Anthony’s breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep himself together, but you knew it wouldn’t last. He was too close, too sensitive, and the way his body trembled beneath your touch told you that he was on the edge of losing control once more.

"You’re doing so well," you whispered, your hand stroking him with firm, deliberate movements now, pushing him closer to that edge. "So perfect for me, Anthony. Let me hear how good it feels."

He groaned, his voice strained, and you could see the way his body tensed, every muscle tightening as he tried to fight against the inevitable. But you didn’t let up, your hand relentless as you whispered sweet praises in his ear, telling him how adorable he was, how perfect he sounded when he was so flustered and embarrassed.

"Come for me," you whispered, your voice low and teasing. "I want to hear you fall apart again, Anthony. Don’t hold back."

And with a final, desperate gasp, Anthony did just that.

His entire body tensed, his hands gripping you tightly as he came undone once more, his release hitting him like a wave. His moan was loud, raw, and utterly beautiful as he gave himself over to the pleasure, his body trembling beneath you as you worked him through it.

When it was finally over, he slumped back against the chair, completely spent, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His face was flushed, his hair a mess, and his eyes—when they finally fluttered open—were glazed over with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. "You were perfect," you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and affectionate. "Absolutely perfect."

Anthony groaned softly, his face flushed with embarrassment once again as he hid his face in his hands. "You’re insufferable," he muttered, though the warmth in his voice told you that he didn’t mean it.

"And you’re adorable," you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Especially when you’re like this."

Anthony chuckled softly, though the sound was still breathless, and he finally lowered his hands, looking at you with a mixture of embarrassment and affection. "I don’t know how you do it," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "But I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before."

You grinned, your heart swelling with affection as you leaned down to kiss him again, softly this time, your lips lingering against his. "Get used to it, Anthony," you whispered. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

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