Request: BESTIEEE DO AN ANTHONY BRIDGERTON ONE? Enemies to lovers smut ehehehhehehehe

Summary: Anthony finds out that you’ll move to America if you don’t get married by the end of the season. He doesn’t take it very well.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT! praising kink, enemies to lovers (kinda), very very fluffy at the end, this is badly written, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)…

Word count: 4,890 words

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *. •.°

The third ball of the season was, unfortunately, being held at your place - your mother offered. A swarm of servants were rushing in and out of your room, helping you to get ready. Your mother even got Madame Delacroix, a popular modiste from France, to design you a dress.

The other day, you saw a flower bloom while you were on your daily walk with your horse, Luna. You were pretty sure it was a lavender flower, but the colour was ever so pretty. You picked the flower and took it to Miss Delacroix with your mother, asking her to make a gown in this colour.

And she did exactly that. With multiple touches of silver, of course.

Your maid pinched your cheeks as a final touch and stepped away, admiring you through the mirror. She sighed and smiled at your reflection as you let out a breath.

“Miss Y/L/N… your beauty is truly unmatched,” she complimented as you give her a tight smile.

“Thank you, Lilah. Let us hope that it’s enough for my mother,” you roll your eyes subtly and stand up. Lilah tilted her head at you, stepping closer.

“Your mother wants nothing but the best for you. That is why she needs you looking your best.” She tilts your chin up, giving you a warm smile. You bite your lip and nod.

“Thank you, Lilah. Go, I’ll be joining everyone shortly.” She nods and ushers the other servants out of the room, closing your bedroom door behind her.

You look at your hands, seeing them in silk gloves. You look at your reflection, blinking at yourself. Your hair was slicked back in a braided bun with small diamonds decorated in the braids. A tiara sat neatly at your head. Your gown went all the way down to the floor, a bow tightening it at the waist. Your bust was showing slightly and a necklace was complimenting your collarbone. You were wearing your ballet slippers - they were new.

You contemplated whether you should go down there. Your mother would spend the whole evening walking your around to find the ‘perfect’ suitor. As there was ever such thing.

Love isn’t real. Perfection isn’t real. Not in this world.

Just then, you heard a carriage pulling up as you looked toward your balcony. You walked out to it and peered down, seeing a man step out. A brunette, around six feet and dressed in plush navy, velvet coattails and vests.

Decorated with purple.

“Oh, bollocks,” you muttered. The man helped out two women as the second carriage came. And then he looked up.

His curious eyes met with yours. The moonlight shone on his aura, his face coming into light. His eyebrows raise a little as his arms rest on the sides of his body. You let out a shaky breath as your chest heaves up and down. His mother then came into sight, pulling onto his arm. She smiled and tugged him inside as he slowly looked away from you.

That man is Anthony Bridgerton. The opposite of perfection. Personality wise.

His appearance, however—

You roll your eyes at your invasive thoughts, walking back into your room. You smooth out your gown one final time before leaving the room, closing the door behind you. A guard was standing outside, holding his arm out for you. You gladly accept it, walking down the hallway towards the steps…

ೃ⁀➷✎

Anthony, his three siblings and his mother stepped inside the Y/L/N household. Eloise only came to see you, other than that she would’ve stayed home. Benedict and Colin were forced to come by their older brother, but the younger Bridgerton brother wouldn’t mind seeing Pen Featherington tonight. Poor Benedict has no one.

Yet.

“Anthony, see anyone that interests you?” Violet, their mother, asks him. The Viscount rolls his eyes slightly, scanning the crowd. He sees the same, boring women he’s seen his whole life.

Some more occasionally than others.

“What about that one over there?” Benedict nudges his brother, pointing to a lady he saw last week at some brothel downtown. He furrows his eyebrows as the girl made eye contact with him, her cheeks flushing red because of the embarrassment she’s feeling.

Anthony remembered the sight he saw when he walked into that brothel and shook his head. “She looks lovely, but she’s also not my type,” he gave a tight smile to his mother as she sighed. Something else caught her eye however and her face overcomes with a smile on her face.

“It looks like mother found your type, brother,” Colin says with amusement in his voice. Anthony pulls a face and looks where Violet is looking.

“Is that…” Eloise adds with a smile.

And what a sight he saw.

A woman dressed in a lilac gown decorated with jewels and silver sequins was standing at the top of the staircase. She wore a tiara on her head which the chandelier light reflected. Around her sweet collarbone sat a necklace which had the same lilac gems that were in her headpiece. The gown touched the floor but she was holding it up, meaning you could see the ballet shoes she was wearing. They looked brand new. Her lips formed into a sweet smile which complimented her facial features. Anthony had never been more smitten.

Everyone stopped their conversations to look at her, the woman that has caught every suitor’s eye tonight. Even the Viscount’s. He was mesmerised.

“Mrs Y/L/N suggested that the two of you should match outfits tonight. It was only proper since you’re the Viscount and Y/N is the star of the season.”

“Mrs Y/L/N…” Normally, he would throw a tantrum about this. But tonight, he didn’t. Tonight, he saw perfection.

However, when the girl’s eyes met Anthony’s, her eyes hardened. The corners of her mouth dropped and her eyebrows went up. The guard next to her let go of her arm as he urged her to come along. But she didn’t break eye contact. She refused to. Anthony understood that.

“Darling? Are you alright?" The woman snapped her head to her mother’s, smiling before she nodded. Anthony let out a breath when she finally made her way down the grand staircase. She watched her step carefully and stopped at the final step, taking in the crowd in front of her. Suitors swarming to gather her attention. She was the opposite of flattered. Mortified. Scared. Nervous.

There you stood, Y/N Y/L/N. The named diamond of this season. Words being said by your mother were not being heard. The praises the suitors were giving you felt like lies. You could feel Stephanie Crawford’s patronizing eyes from a mile away. It was as if Lady Whistledown was watching your every moment. Your heart was beating faster every minute as you felt overwhelmed by all of these voices.

Your pride was diminishing in front of everyone. You felt like dropping dead.

Until your knight in shining armour appeared.

He shoved past the gentlemen and gentlewoman in front of you and reached for your hand. Everyone’s words turned into breathless mumbles as you glanced at their faces, slightly annoyed expressions on their faces.

Lord Bridgerton has destroyed everyone’s confidence.

"Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?” He asked, waiting patiently for your answer. You nodded quickly, grasping for his hand. He had a little smirk on his face as he pulled you away from - literally everyone.

“Little desperate tonight, are we?” Anthony muttered as you hung onto his arm. You rolled your eyes and regained your composure.

“If you don’t keep your tongue in that mouth of yours, I’ll pull it out with one of the serving forks,” you say, your tone laced with honey. Anthony let out a laugh that wasn’t venomous for once. It was sincere… Loving.

“No need to get so feisty, little dove,” he says as he stops walking in the middle of the ballroom. Your heart swooned at the nickname, the name he’s always given you ever since you were children.

“Again with the nickname?” You taunt as the song changes to a German waltz, composed by Ludwig van Beethoven. A classic. “I’m pretty sure you’ve called most of the girls in London 'my little dove’. Since you’re a rake and all.” You look at him with an accusing look on your face as he raises an eyebrow.

“Rake? Do you think that low of me?” he asked as he began to bow. You curtsied at the same time, your lips forming a little smirk.

“I always have, my lord,” you whispered as you rise. Your left hand faintly touches Anthony’s right hand as he looks deeply into your Y/E/C eyes.

“And why is that, Y/N?” Your name rolls off his tongue like honey as you both begin walking in a circle, Anthony following your lead.

You think about it for a minute. There’s not a good enough answer to that question.

“You remember when we first met?” You recall as Anthony nodded. “You were running around in my garden like a madman. With a cup of tea in your hands for your mother.” He smiles at the memory, his eyes asking for you to go on. “You supposedly bumped into me by accident. That tea ruined my dress!” You exclaim as you switch hands, walking in the opposite direction.

Anthony wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t with his mother watching. “Do you not remember what happened after?”

You look at your mother who was smiling with Anthony’s mother. “Of course I do.”

He preceded to tell you anyway. “A dove flew in from the west and landed on your shoulder. I expected you to shriek and shove it off but you didn’t. You let it perch there and the tea incident was forgotten.” You look at the Viscount, a warm smile appearing on his face. “The sight was beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” You mumble as both of your hands fall to your sides.

He hummed. “Perfection.”

You snickered, causing your dance partner to raise an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip while smiling. “Perfection isn’t real.”

It was Anthony’s turn to laugh, his reaction stunning you. Both of your hands were a few centimetres away from his as you began to walk again.

“You speak utter nonsense sometimes.”

“I’m speaking the truth,” you scoff at him, looking him dead in the eye. “If perfection was real, then I’d already be on my way to America.” Anthony furrows his brows. “Yet I’m still here,” you sigh.

“What?” his voice drops and you seem to notice. “America? Why there?”

“Uh,” you shrug, not having an answer. “I don’t like it here anymore if I’m being honest. Mother promised that if I do not have a fiance by the end of the season, then I am allowed to move to America where my father’s side of the family lives.” You explain but Anthony was still confused.

“So you’re moving there because you want to?” he says in disbelief. You tilt your head as he lets go of your hands.

“Only if I’m not married,” you repeat.

Something changed in the air. It wasn’t the comforting air you both had breathed in a few minutes ago. These moments were very rare, keep in mind. It switched back to the hot-headed tension you both feel for each other.

The tension that always turns into hatred.

“You cannot live there,” he stated. It was your turn to be confused.

“Excuse me?”

“I forbid it.” You look at him, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“You do not control my life, milord. I’m moving there so I can at least get somewhat of an education—”

“Then I will arrange something for you. A mentor to teach you things a man cannot,” he steps closer. You feel eyes on the two of you.

“Even a Viscount can’t do that!” You say, getting irritated. “What is this, anyway? I thought you would be happy to see me gone!”

“Happy? You think I would be overjoyed?” He retorts.

“Yes! Yes, I did!”

“Clearly, I am not. You cannot leave, Y/N/N.” Another nickname. Your father used to call you that all of the time.

“Do not call me that,” you say, your voice low. “You’re not allowed to.”

“And what will you do? Hm?” he challenged and you shook your head, pointing at him.

“You always do this! We have one good moment together where we get along and then you ruin it with your words. I despise you for it!” You spat as Anthony nodded.

“Like you don’t do the same bloody thing? You’re the one who just dropped this on me.”

“Yes, because I didn’t think you’d bloody care,” you yell, causing your mother to come over.

“That’s enough, Y/N,” she said, glaring at you. “The both of you need to calm down.”

Violet came over as your breathing slowed. You were still furious. “I think you need to apologize, dear, to Anthony. You must’ve said something—”

“Me? I need to apologize?” You say, staring at Anthony’s mother. Anthony was glaring at you, daring you to speak. “Sorry, my lady, but I refuse.”

“Y/N—”

“You know what? Enjoy the rest of the night without me, mother!” You give her a tight smile before rushing upstairs and down the hallway.

Anthony watched your every move. As you walked up the stairs, he glanced at the gentlemen around them, seeing them whisper and ogle you like you were some object.

He was not having any of it.

“Excuse me.”

ೃ⁀➷✎

You entered your father’s study and shut the door behind you, leaning against it. Your breathing became heavy again, only because of how furious you were.

You were embarrassed. Ashamed. Anthony is the only person who makes you feel that way.

He makes you feel worthless.

The opposite of perfection.

You step away from the door and try to distract yourself with something else. You look towards your father’s desk, seeing a stack of letters in the middle. Your mother was supposed to open them.

You sigh and go around the desk, picking up the papers and leaving them in the open drawer. You sat in your father’s chair, hiding your face in your hands. You move them away when something catches your eye.

It was a 'painting’ that you remember making when you were around five years old. It was framed and it sat next to a cup of stationary. You were so proud of it and you decided to show your parents. Your mother waved you off, however, your father picked you up and sat you on his lap. He told you not to listen to your mother and he praised every single aspect of the little drawing. It caused you to smile like some Cheshire cat.

Earlier this year, your father died from a tragic accident. He went riding on one of the many nights of January - while it was snowing. His horse slipped on the ice and your father fell into a ditch. He hit his head pretty hard and since it was the middle of the night, no one knew that he was missing.

Of course, your mother did. But the guards reassured her that her husband must’ve been staying at a hotel.

You found him the next morning. A few miles away from your home.

The picture of his corpse has remained in your head ever since.

What made it worse was that it was your birthday the upcoming week. He went out to get a present for you. It was practically all your fault. Your mother never blamed you. That did not stop you from blaming yourself.

You leaned back in the chair, taking off your silk gloves. You folded them and laid them on the desk. 

You didn’t want to be here. You’d rather be anywhere else. You could see your perfect life ahead of you. All you had to do is not marry anyone.

And then your mind drifts back to earlier. A particular face stands out in your mind and refuses to get out.

Anthony bloody Bridgerton.

“Why? Why must you be so aggravating?” you whisper to yourself.

“I was going to ask you the same question.” Your head shot up to see Anthony himself at the door. He closed it behind him as you immediately got out of your seat.

“Why are you in here?” He didn’t get a chance to reply. “Get out.”

He rolls his eyes and walks around the office, admiring its aspects and features. “Your father’s study?”

“Why do you care?” you mutter, your eyes following his.

“He was a wonderful gentleman, Y/N,” he says, turning to look at you. You blink as he continues, “He was always so kind to me. Ever since my father passed, he was like a second…” his voice trails off as you look away from him.

“Still, never saw you at his funeral,” you retort, fiddling with your hands.

“I wanted to go, but I couldn’t,” he admits as you turn around.

“Why? Too busy snogging women in the local area?” you say, catching him off guard.

“I couldn’t go because I knew you would be there.” These words shock but anger you. You meet his gaze, scoffing at his words.

“Of course, I’d be there. I’m his only daughter, Anthony,” you state as if this wasn’t already known.

“You misunderstand. That is not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” you question, stepping forward. “You didn’t come because you hate me? Despise me? This is already known information,” you chuckle dryly. He looks away for a split second, then looks back.

“I do hate you.” Again, his words sting you. I’m pretty sure you physically winced at his reply. But you allowed him to add on. “I hate that whenever I catch a glimpse of you, you are always smiling.” He steps closer, but you do not move. “I hate that whenever I see you sad, my first instinct is to find whoever hurt you. I hate that whenever I see you with a man that is not me, I feel envy. Jealousy. Hurt.”

You are stunned. Your hands fell to your sides as you blink at him in shock. You did not know what to say.

“Anthony—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, a longing look in his eyes. “Let me finish for once, Y/N.”

You nodded slightly, allowing him to continue.

“I hate that whenever you look at me, your pupils widen. The colours in your eyes bloom. They seem more appealing whenever you look into my eyes.” Your breath hitches as he puts a hand on your chin. You wanted to pull away, but you couldn’t. Something was pulling you in.

“Y/N. I hate that whenever I see you in a gown like this, in anything…” His index finger runs along your bottom lip as you close your eyes, feeling his breath fan on your cheek. “I want to rip the fabric to shreds.” You open your eyes, getting lost in his honey-glazed ones.

“I-I do not understand, milord,” you whisper, chuckling a little. A little smirk appears on his face as he watches your eyes grow curious.

“You do understand, little dove,” he muttered, his voice making your stomach tighten. He leans closer to your ear as your heart beats faster every second. “Do not think I don’t see the filth you read.”

He pulls back, seeing the look on your face. An expression of horror crossed your countenance. Anthony wanted to laugh, but instead, he continued.

“Whenever you stay at Aubrey Hall, I always see you carry a book around with you. You read it every night.” His fingers ran along your thigh as you let out a small gasp. “A smile would always appear on your lips after reading a particular line. Your legs would even squirm.”

“Y-You watched me read?” you questioned as he gazed into your eyes. You weren’t scared that he knew. You were just shocked - again. Maybe this will teach you not to read on balconies.

“Your room was always next to mine, love. Maybe I could not see everything, but I could most definitely hear,” he smirked as your cheeks heat up.

“Tell me a passage,” he suddenly said as you furrowed your brows.

“Pardon?”

“Describe a few lines of the book to me,” he repeated. You hadn’t realised you stepped backwards until you hit the desk behind you. He had pushed you on the desk so you were now sitting on it. Anthony was right in front of you, you couldn’t escape.

Though, you didn’t want to.

You bit your lip, looking away. “The man. He um, he took his finger,” Anthony hiked up your dress so it exposed your leg, the cold hair hitting your calf. “And he spread the woman’s legs.” Anthony preceded to spread your legs so he could see your intimate part for himself. He smiled slightly, his eyes wanting you to go on. “And then he put his finger in.”

“Where?” He asked, looking into your eyes. “Where did he put his finger, Y/N?” You hesitated, causing him to lift your chin with one of his hands. His eyes told you he wasn’t asking this time.

“He put his fingers inside her intimate part,” you said, without a doubt. He looked down. You could feel his fingers sliding up your inner thigh. His fingers hooked your  You waited patiently for him to do something.

And then all of a sudden, his index finger slid inside your clit. You let out a gasp as you gripped his shoulder. His finger started moving around, slipping in and out of your folds. He was teasing you, going slow at first. But he was picking up the pace.

“Oh- oh, Anthony,” you moaned as rubbed your clit in a circular motion.

“What did he do next, Y/N?” he asked softly.

“He praised her,” you breathe as Anthony raises an eyebrow. “He’d call her things like 'sweetheart’, 'my love’…” your voice trails off when Anthony went faster, slipping his finger in again. You moaned as he played around with your folds, feeling your walls tighten around his finger. He groaned slightly, slipping his middle finger, curling his fingers inside of you.

You threw your head back as an orgasm came on. You bit your lip, gripping the desk with both of your hands as Anthony carried the rest of you. “Oh, love, you’re doing wonderful,” he said as you looked at him with your doe eyes. “Keep going, little dove. Tell me how much you’re enjoying this. How I’m teasing you, playing with you.”

“I-It feels so good,” you moaned as your ballet shoes grazed Anthony’s calves. “Please, keep going, milord. I do not want it to stop.”

The ecstasy you were feeling felt unreal. This feeling, this pleasure, it felt like heaven. It was addicting and Anthony adored that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re firming it so well,” he coos, pushing his fingers in and out. Your cunt was dripping, your cries filling the room. “You feel amazing.”

Your insides were tightening around Anthony’s fingers as he spoke again, “Tell me, Y/N, what else did he do?”

“He lowered his head and—” you groan and lay your head on the desk as Anthony pushed his fingers deeper.

“Come on, Y/N.”

“He positioned his head in front of her legs. He began- He started licking,” you breathlessly explain. Anthony pulled his fingers abruptly, your pussy sagging with nothing to fill it. He saw that his fingers were soaking and you sat up, staring up at him with lust.

You grabbed his hand and placed his fingers in your mouth, sucking and licking your juices up. You didn’t break eye contact as he let out a little moan. Your other hand ran down his chest, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Your confidence was coming out yet again. Anthony was enjoying it.

You pulled his fingers out of your mouth, taking off the other layers of his outfit until his torso was covered in nothing. You stood up, both of your hands running down his chest.

“Y/N,” he breathes as your lips brush against his neck, “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m telling you what happens next in the story,” you reply softly. You look into his eyes, then they drop to his lips. “The woman mustered up the confidence to stand up… And to kiss him,” you whisper, your lips now inches away from his.

“Did he accept it? The kiss?” His eyes were now on your lips and they weren’t pulling away.

“Yes. Of course.” Anthony didn’t hesitate. He swooped you up in his arms and kissed you as your arms and legs wrapped around him. You kissed back, smiling in the kiss.

It was sloppy, the need the both of you have for each other is irresistible. Anthony wanted to destroy you. You were his to destroy.

Your kisses were quick, but there was often a long one added in there. Anthony squeezed your ass as you moaned into his mouth, tugging at his hair.

He sat you on the desk again, groaning into the kiss. You pulled away, your lips trailing down his neck instead. You left small kisses as his moans pleased your ears. Anthony pulls away from you again, pulling you off the desk slightly. He unbuttoned your dress, letting it slip down your body. He untied your corset, pulling it off impatiently, causing you to giggle slightly.

“This gown is beautiful, but your body…” his words trailed off, “Gorgeous.”

He admired your body, his hands exploring every single part of it. He kept the ballet shoes on. He kissed your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. You watched as he went down on his knees, spreading your legs even wider so he can have easier access.

“I didn’t say you had to kneel,” you teased as he smirked slightly.

“It’s more enjoyable from the angle.”

He gave you no warning. He went straight in, ravaging your clit. You gasped as he grabbed your legs. You gripped the table, your legs going above Anthony’s shoulders. His tongue played with your cunt as he bobbed his head up and down. You grabbed his hair, tugging at it as his eyebrows raised, pushing his tongue deeper.

“Oh, God, Anthony!” you groaned, inching your pussy closer to his mouth. “Oh, yes, right there… Right- right there!” Anthony’s tongue was overwhelming you. You felt so close to finishing. You felt like you were the woman of the book you read - Anthony being the person you desire most.

“I am close, so close,” you whisper. Anthony smirks against your slip, licking your pre-cum up. You were on the verge of finishing. Your legs squirmed, squeezing around Anthony’s head. Your walls tightened as you threw your head back for one last orgasm.

You came. You were gushing and Anthony was swallowing it all up. You looked down as he looked up, your breathing slowing and coming to a stop. He pulled away, wiping his mouth with his hand. He stood up, kissing you with more passion than the last kiss. It was more sincere. Like you were both in love.

Anthony cupped your face with both of your hands. You were kissing him back, your hands on his chest. The both of you pull away, gazing into each other’s eyes, soaking up this very moment. There was a different look on the Viscount’s face. His eyes were more open, his mouth slightly parted… He adored you.

You adored him.

“Am I your first?” He asked as you smiled.

“Yes,” you muttered. “Is that bad?”

“No,” he replied, “It’s perfect. You are perfect.”

Your smile dropped slightly. You couldn’t believe it. You? Perfect? Is it true?

“How?” you asked as he cocked his head. “Tell me how I’m perfect.”

“It’s a lot,” he began. “But I will tell you.” You sucked your bottom lip, wanting him to go on. “You have these eyes. These doe-like eyes that trick me into doing anything you want.” You gulp. “And then your smile… Oh your smile,” he chuckled, “whenever you smile, it radiates your positivity. Your kindness, your innocence.” You smile as he smiles back at you. “Your whole personality is perfect. You have not made it easy for me, but for everyone else, you’re an angel. You manage to make everyone’s day. You never upset anyone and you manage to make them smile without even doing anything.

"You have this effect on me - maybe on everyone else. Whenever you walk into the room, my eyes are always on you. They stayed glued to you. I admire every inch of you whenever you’re showing off a new dress for a new ball. You make the room light up whenever everyone is being bland, boring, uninteresting.” Your eyes watered - you couldn’t believe you were getting emotional because of this little speech.

“Y/N Y/L/N, need I say more?” Anthony sighed as you chuckled, a tear trickling down your face. He wiped it away, kissing your cheek.

“No. You’ve convinced me, Lord Bridgerton.” Your head lay on his chest for a minute, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Don’t go to America,” he stated as you pull back, knitting your eyebrows together. “Do not go without me, at least,” he added as you smile yet again.

“Are you going to ask me something, Mr Viscount?” you tease as his smile widened.

“I do not know, Miss Y/L/N. It depends on you in all honesty.”

“Ask me,” you whispered.

“How would you feel about being the new Viscountess, little dove?” he asked, rubbing your left hand, clasping it with his. You look down at both of your hands.

“It seems to be a lot of pressure, milord…” you taunt as you gaze into his eyes, seeing hope glint in them.

“I would understand if you do not—”

“Yes,” you interrupt. His head snapped up to yours, another smile appearing on his face. “I’ll be your beloved wife,” you add, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Our mothers will be overjoyed with this, you know?” His hands squeezed your hips as you nuzzled your nose against his.

“I know,” you giggled, “it was as you said.” He raised an eyebrow as you bite your lip.

“Perfection.”

requested by anonymous<3