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sagesolsticewrites · 2 months

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Sundress (Anthony Boyle x Reader)

In which date night takes a turn when Anthony sees the outfit you’ve chosen

Special thanks to my bestie @winniemaywebber for this idea and for being my spicy Anto/Croz hypewoman <3 ily girlieeeee 👏👏 👏

content warnings: mature content (thigh riding, oral (f receiving), PinV penetration), slight dom/sub dynamics if you squint, praise kink, swearing, Anthony Boyle being entirely too sweet and sexy for this world 🥴 (again: this is for mature audiences only!! 18+!!)

word count: 2.7k (ANTHONY BOYLE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME 😩)

Masterlist

You stand in front of your closet, fighting off a grin of anticipation.

The press tours for Masters of the Air and Manhunt had finally come to a close, and you had a few days of respite before your boyfriend went off to his next project.

Of course, with Anthony, this meant date night.

You linger near your reliable jeans-and-a-nice-top combos for a moment before the sundresses hanging near the back catch your eye.

The weather has been getting warmer, you think, and it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to wear these…

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you snag one of your favorites off the hanger and change into it, twirling to see every angle in front of the mirror.

It complements your curves perfectly, hanging at just the right length that won’t make you nervous about walking up any stairs but isn’t too modest.

You make quick work of your makeup and jewelry, making sure to include the delicate necklace that Anthony gifted you for your first anniversary together, and before too long there’s a knock at the door.

Your boyfriend, fresh from some last-minute press responsibilities, was right on time.

You rush towards the door, the clacking of your heels on the floor surely announcing your excitement to Anthony as you fling it open.

“Hi,” you say, barely able to speak around your grin.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you in for a swift kiss— the first you’ve shared in weeks. Reluctantly, the two of you eventually pull away for air and he steps inside, eyes raking over your figure, “You look… absolutely fantastic.”

“Well, thank you,” you say, twirling so he can see how the dress fans out around you. “You don’t look too bad, yourself.” You add, eyeing the rolled-up sleeves of his white button down revealing entirely too attractive forearms and the patch of chest hair just visible underneath the effortlessly unbuttoned top buttons — bless his stylist, who had clearly attended the Austin Butler School of Buttoning Shirts — all complemented perfectly with sleek black pants.

“Thank you, my love. I’m, uh…” he trails off as he watches your dress settle around you, then seems to jolt back to himself after barely a second, “I’m just gonna go grab a jacket and then we’ll head out, alright?”

He returns soon, now armed with a black suit jacket, and you glance down at the sundress that now seems a bit too casual for what he’s wearing.

However, when you ask if you should change, his answer is a swift, decisive, “No.”

“You look stunning just as you are, darling,” he amends his sharp response, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before escorting you out the door.

Anthony is his usual gentlemanly self while you’re out: he pulls your seat out and waits for you to sit down first when you arrive at your favorite Italian restaurant, happily splits a dessert with you (though if you happened to end up with the bigger half, despite your insistence that you split it equally, well… it wasn’t a crime to treat his girl, was it?), and when Frank Sinatra starts playing on the speakers overhead, he jumps to his feet and extends his hand to you, twirling you around the floor with not a single care for the eyes watching when you gladly accept and pulling you in for a sweet kiss as the song ends, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulls you close.

“So… ready to head home, sweetheart?” He asks as the two of you return to your seats.

“I— yes, I guess so?” You reply, slightly confused. Normally Anto loved to keep you out with him for as long as possible; returning home directly after dessert was a rarity.

He scrambles to assure you that he would be more than happy to stay out if you want, but something about the way his fingertips dance over your knee under the table, toying with the lace edging of your dress, makes you agree that it’s time to call it a night.

The air between the two of you as you head home is thick and hot, the anticipation of something building.

And that anticipation comes to a head as you enter the privacy of your home, finding yourself pinned to the inside of the door as soon as it closes.

“Sweetheart,” Anthony nearly growls against your lips, hands firm on your waist as his voice grows increasingly more strangled, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I don’t—” You just barely choke back a moan. You haven’t the faintest idea what he’s talking about, but if it’s getting him to manhandle you like this after so long away…

“This dress,” he groans, bunching the flimsy fabric in his fists, “I’ve been gone for weeks, and the first thing I see is you in this little thing—” he moves as he speaks, from murmuring against your own lips to traveling down back to your ear and along your neck, “— and I take you out to dinner, and dessert, and dancing—” he punctuates each item with a light nip to your skin, making you jolt.

“—when all I really want to do,” he returns to speaking directly in your ear, his voice a soft growl that does startling things to your heart rate, “is see how pretty you look in this dress when I fuck you in it.”

Your entire body turns to jello, and the only thing keeping you upright is Anthony’s hands on your hips and his leg wedged in between yours. You can’t help but let out a sharp gasp when your core comes into contact with his leg, and his already dilated eyes turn almost entirely black at the sound.

“C’mere, baby,” he whispers, pulling you along to the bedroom, discarding his jacket somewhere in the house as he does.

You scramble to kick off your heels as you enter the dimly-lit room, your boyfriend wasting no time in untucking and unbuttoning his shirt from his perch on the edge of the bed.

“No,” he says sharply when your fingers move to the straps of your dress, “Keep it on.”

Your breath catches, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you realize he was serious.

He wordlessly beckons you closer, and you step forward obediently, standing between his spread legs. Pinching your chin, he tugs you down for a gentle kiss that’s fairly at odds with his dominating persona at the moment.

“This okay?” he murmurs softly against your lips, and somehow the gentle check-in combined with the events happening now are enough to make you even wetter than you already are.

You nod, adding a soft “Yes” when you remember he won’t do anything unless you’ve given a verbal okay.

That settled, he captures your lips in a decidedly more heated kiss, hands moving down to grip your hips as he adjusts so you’re straddling his thigh.

You meet his scorching gaze, practically feeling yourself melting as you realize what he intends to do.

“Noticed you seemed to like this earlier, my love,” he murmurs against your lips, smirking.

You quickly move to clutch at his shoulders as he drags your clothed core along his quadricep, mouth opening in a silent moan.

He huffs out a laugh, nudging your nose with his own as he bunches up the soft fabric of your dress.

“I was right, you do look very pretty like that,” he mumbles, “but I don’t even get to hear your pretty noises? C’mon, honey…”

He flexes his thigh, the new angle making you jump as you gasp, “Anthony, oh my god—”

“Just like that, sweet girl,” he growls into your mouth, scattering kisses all down your neck and chest as your pace speeds up.

A familiar tension builds just below your belly as you clutch yourself against him, throwing your head back and rolling your hips against his still-clothed thigh faster, faster, faster, Anthony murmuring soft praise and encouragement all the while.

“Anthony,” you gasp into his mouth, one hand clutching at his shoulder while the other buries itself in his dark curls as you feel yourself teetering on the precipice of your release, “‘M gonna—”

Your warning is cut off by a sharp, keening whine when Anthony grips your hips firmly, stopping their motion just before you tip over the edge.

“No, Ant—” you whine, struggling against his grip as your almost-orgasm fades, “Please, I was so close…”

“‘Msorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your skin, rising with you as you stand on wobbly legs, “I promise I’ll make this next part worth it,” He murmurs teasingly as he gently lays you back on the bed.

He shucks off his shirt before climbing on top of you, giving you a knowing smirk as you eye the exposed skin, your gaze lingering on the fully-revealed chest hair and the wet patch just barely visible on his thigh. The bed dips with his weight as his limbs cage you in, one hand delicately tracing the curves and lines of your body, making you shiver.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, your hands eagerly traveling along his skin.

“If you’re gonna cum, sweetheart,” he breathes in a low, gravelly tone that sends heat straight to your core, “it’s gonna be on my mouth before anything else.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve truly actually turned to liquid, especially if the increasing wetness between your thighs is any indication, but your boyfriend proves you’re still deliciously solid, his lips tracing a path down your neck to where the tops of your breasts are just barely exposed by your dress.

Your fingers creep up to pull your dress down, to fully expose your chest so he can scatter kisses over every inch of you, but Anthony stops you.

His pretty brown eyes, molten with heat, meet yours as he stops you from tugging desperately at your dress.

“I told you, baby,” he says, keeping eye contact as he drags his lips over your clothed chest, paying special attention to your quickly hardening nipples peeking through the fabric before moving lower.

“Keep. It. On.”

You throw your head back, gasping softly as his lips travel down, down, down, along your stomach and hips down to your thighs.

He carefully slides the now irreparably wrinkled fabric up, flipping up the hem to reveal your hips and thighs and the lacy fabric covering your core.

He wastes no time in pressing kisses to you over your underwear, your hips bucking up into him as you chase the feeling of his mouth on you.

Little tease that he is, he keeps his mouth just out of reach as he peels off the soaked lace fabric

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathes, your own breath catching as he drags his fingertips through your folds and they come away dripping, “All this for me?”

You can only whine, having long ago lost the ability to form words.

He prolongs your torment by kissing a slow, torturous path up the inside of each of your thighs before finally — finally — diving into you, eagerly licking into your folds.

You let out a choked gasp as he licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans against you, his voice sending vibrations through your core, “Taste even better than I remembered.”

“A-Ant—“ you stutter out a warning, that familiar tension building once again.

You feel him grin against you, and lord if that doesn’t send all kinds of sparks racing through your body, a feeling that only intensifies as his thumb comes up to circle your clit, a litany of praise and encouragement falling from his lips.

“‘M not gonna stop you this time, sweetheart, just let go,” he murmurs against you, fingers and tongue working overtime on your core, “C’mon baby, please, wanna taste you—”

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, Anthony dutifully guiding you through your climax.

You come back to yourself, shuddering, as your boyfriend pulls away to brush a gentle kiss to your hipbone, mouth glistening and eyes nearly black with desire.

“You’re fucking perfect, sweetheart,” he groans, trailing back up to capture your lips with his.

You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

The two of you stay like that for a while, Ant letting you recover, until the bulge pressing into your thigh becomes too much to ignore.

He gasps into your mouth as your hand moves down to palm at him through his slacks.

“Darlin’— shit, you’re ready for me already?”

As if your furious nodding wasn’t enough of an answer, you move your hand more insistently against him.

“Fuck, fuck, okay—” he hisses, moving off of you to rid himself of his his pants and boxers.

You watch, bottom lip caught between your teeth, as his length springs free from his underwear, tip already leaking.

He returns to hover over you, brushing kisses all over your face and neck as he strokes himself a few times.

You can’t resist touching him, and your fingertips grazing along his length has his eyes fluttering shut.

“Not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that, sweetheart,” he warns with a gasp, breath hot against your cheek.

You reluctantly retract your fingers, barely stifling a moan when his tip brushes against you as he positions himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock on yours, watching your face contort in pleasure as he slowly, slowly, enters you.

“You ready, darlin’?” He breathes against your lips after a moment to let you adjust.

The frantic “yes” that escapes you isn’t so much a word as a gasp, and your thoughts turn to static as he begins to thrust into you with slow, languid strokes.

Your breaths mingle, his exhales becoming your inhales, the thin fabric of your sundress providing a delicious friction as you feel every inch of him pressed against you.

“You’re so tight,” he gasps, increasing his pace as your breathing becomes heavier, “Fuck, I missed this, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” you whine into his mouth, your hand fisting his soft dark curls, “Missed you so much, Ant—”

His mouth closes the millimeters of distance between the two of you, crashing onto yours in a fierce, heated kiss.

You let out a muffled moan as his hips grind against yours faster and faster, feeling your second orgasm of the night building.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Anthony groans, hips stuttering, letting out a soft “fuck” when you tell him you’re almost there, too.

“C’mon, come for me darlin’” he grinds out against your mouth, “‘M right behind you, please, please, come for me, honey…”

You reach your second climax with a cry, Anthony muffling his own in your neck as he spills into you, thrusting slowly until he’s spent.

The two of you stay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath, until Anthony lifts his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“So,” he says breathlessly, toying with the hopelessly wrinkled fabric of your dress, “You’ll be wearing these more often, yeah?”

You huff out a laugh. “If you promise not to ruin them, absolutely.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’ll buy you a thousand more of these. Whatever you want. As long as I know there’s at least one in your closet for me to enjoy.”

He murmurs the last sentence against your lips, punctuating it with a long, slow kiss that has you grinning against him.

You bump your nose against his as he pulls away, your thumb stroking his cheek.

“Welcome home, honey.”

His gaze softens, pulling you in for another brief, gentle kiss.

“Thank you, my love.”

#winnie said one (1) thing about thigh riding anthony in a dress and the hornybrain took it and RAN fjskfj #hope y’all liked it ☺️#my writing #anthony boyle #anthony boyle x reader #anthony boyle smut #masters of the air #masters of the air cast #anthony boyle fic #anthony boyle imagine

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