#anthony bridge

[somethingblu3]

Thy Mercy | Father Anthony Bridge

Read on Ao3 here.

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Casualty

Summary:

Father Anthony commands you to list out the rosary.

TW: Church Sex, Spanking, Candles Wax Play, Improper Use of a Rosary, Priest Kink, Author is not Christian, Forbidden Secret, Relationship,neil newbon - Freeform, Begging, Burns, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Bible Kink, No Beta, mouth spitting, Mutual Masturbation, cum, Paddle, Humiliation, lightly edited, Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Father Anthony Bridge x female afab reader

Word Count: 1,844

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics.

Note:

I'm not Christian, but I did go to church when I was younger. It's been over a decade since I've used a rosary, so I'm not entirely sure if the beads are accurate.

“Say it,” Father Anthony ordered in the shadows. You both sat in the empty church. The only light came from the flicker of the oil candles that hung from the ceiling. You had never been in a Church alone, especially not on a cold, dark winter night like this. Your hands are sweaty as they trace over the familiar chunky beads. It was a gift given to you by your grandmother. You remember sitting at her vanity as she gifted you the beads. They were sacred, and you kept them secure under your pillow at night, not wanting to lose them, but you almost dropped them as you felt Father Anthony’s gaze lock on you in the shadows. He was watching, waiting for you to start.

He had warned you that if you stuttered or your voice faltered, he would spank you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Anthony's hands clutching the black paddle in his hands as he readied himself. Your breathing hitches as your sweaty hands clutch at the burgundy glass. Your mind goes blank, but you can feel Anthony’s hand ghost your sides, closing your eyes. You took a breath, trying to cleanse your dry lips. Anthony pushes his nails into your thighs, a sign for you to start.

“In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit Amen” Your fingers move towards the first bead, feeling the contours of the Crucifix between them. He hadn’t even done anything yet, not even touched your skin. You could feel something against it, maybe his fingers or the brush of the silver of his belt as he grinded against you; it was hard to tell in the dark. It was scary not knowing what was coming next. He had blinded you before, but here you were in the Church surrounded by the darkness. You were both very evasive about your relationship. If anyone ever found out about this, Anthony would be fired and defrocked, not even that he would be ousted from the community.

He was more protective of that in the early days, but as your relationship developed, he found it harder and harder to let you go. You were his biggest sin. He couldn’t walk away from second to drinking. You lick your lips as they suddenly turn dry, and you hear him play with the silver of his belt. A warning. “Our father, who art in heaven…” He pulls back your black skirt, which he told you to wear for this evening’s service. Your breathing hitches as you press on, moving to the smaller beads. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” “Faster,” Anthony hisses as his belt drops to the ground, and you feel his hands grab you by your waist. “The Agony in the Garden…The Soc-Sco-ugring at the-” You pause as he slides inside you. As always, you are already wet and sticky. His hand teases your clit, preparing you, and you hear him groan in delight. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You could already hear his voice in your head.

You stutter, “At the-Fuck” You are so tight, but that doesn’t stop him. His breathing increases Anthony halts you trying to search for your voice as it escapes you, and you feel the ip of Anthony’s cock ghosting over your back and cum dripping down your legs; you're already so wet. Not that you are surprised. He waits for a moment and clicks his tongue. You can’t help but feel…disappointed. “The scourging at the pillar,” you finish confidently. Anthony nods. “Good girl,” he praises you as he inserts himself into you once again. “The crowning with thorns-” you hesitate as you feel your cheeks flush increase. “And the crucifixion.” “You missed one,” Anthony scolds as he removes himself from you and then takes you over his lap. “The carrying of the cross,” he tells you as his paddle is against your skin."I'm sorry, father." You cry. "Again. Say them again," He demands as the paddle rests inches away from your skin, a lingering threat. You take a shaky breath, clutching the bread, and then you start again, but your brain has already turned to mush. "In the name--" You swallow as you feel him consider if he should spank you or not, but he doesn't. You clear your throat as you start again, your fingers finding their way to the beads. "In the name of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." His fingers glide against your skin.

You know he won't mark it yet, but you can't help but shiver under his grip. "Our father, who art in heaven." You continue as you move on to the next bead and then the next until you reach "The Agony in the Garden..." You pause, trembling the pad inches and inches away from your skin, and as he presses further, you fumble. "Fuck-i'm so sorry, father." You sob as his paddle spanks against your skin. "I'm so sorry," you tremble. "I thought I had trained you better than this," Anthony snarled You lower your eyes, focusing down on the wooden floor, feeling nothing but shame course through you as he spanks.

"Count. Count to four," He orders, his other hand rubbing your other cheek "One" Smack "Tw-ooh" Smack "Fuck-Thr-eee" He pauses but then adds another smack. "F-ffour" you finish He smacks again. "Good girl, now let's start again from the top."

You nod and carry on repeatedly, but then, this time, you stop at the crucifixion. You close your eyes, knowing what is coming next. You tried to prepare yourself, but there isn't another smack at your ass. Instead, Father Anthony pulls away for a moment, and then he finally starts once again. "I don't think this taught you much of a lesson, did it?" He asks with an arched brow You are too stunned to speak as you feel your ass clench from the stings. He's not going to start again, is he? Usually, he would give breaks in between or at least kiss and "So why don't we try again?" "Father, please-" He ignores you as he reaches over and grabs a candle from the holder. It drips onto your skin, and you hiss, chowing down on your cheek to bear the pain.

"Good girl," he tells you as he messages your head. He watches as your body jitters. The pain is unreal, the sensation of the hot wax. He throws down the paddle, tossing it onto the wooden floor as he grips the candle in his hand, the wax melting his skin. He inserts himself inside you once again. "Let's start from the crucifixion and see if you can finally finish." You nod, shivering from the heat. You feel like you are melting, but also, at the same time, you know that Father Anthony won't hurt you. That was against his moral code, but the pain thrill was still exciting.

"Okay," You gulp as he thrusts inside you. Your dry cum drips between your legs like the candle wax between his fingers. "Okay, okay," you whimper as you get used to his thrusts as they increase in speed, still feeling the tingle of the wax drip down your lower back. "In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen...." Thrust "Our father, who art in heaven…" Thrust. Now, the room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His other hand finds its way to your left waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your moans were escapable now. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be clear as day what the two of you were up to, and that feeling made your heart race, and you could just about see your skin turn bright red under the glow of the candle.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. The Agony in the Garden…The Scourging at the-” "Go on," He commands "The scourging at the pillar, The crowning with thorns, and the--the" You can feel yourself approaching your final orgasm as it tricks down your legs, and you roll your head back. You feel Anthony's hand in your hair as he croons your neck to look at you. He pants and spits in your mouth, his chin covered in drool. He stops trapping your hand clutched with the beads firmly.

"Hold on-" He commands as he takes the warm beads from your hands. "Turn around and face me," He commands," and he does You shiver as you finally meet his gaze. He's tired but happy as a small smirk appears at the corner of his lips. Forecebilly he takes the rosary from your hands and shoves them inside your sticky pussy. "Father," You gasp as you feel the beads between your legs. He chuckles darkly "You are such a good girl," he tells you, stroking your hair. "You're doing the Lord's work," he mumbles the sensation. Of the beads rocking between your legs is something else. The small cross rubs against the end of your pussy, edging you even closer and closer without him even touching you. You watch him as he takes his dick in his hand, proud of himself as he watches you stutter and moan, grabbing onto one of the pews. "Let yourself go, love," he instructs as he quickens the pace of his hand on his dick.

You nod, and your eyes roll back, your breathing hitching. You spot him as cum dribbles down from the head of his cock onto his robes. Your hand fiddles for the beads, and you begin rolling them against yourself. God, it was shameful, especially with how much they meant to you, but you knew after this, they would be covered in your seed, in your wetness, and you would give it to him as a gift, perhaps as a birthday present, so that he would always. Be near you. You grin at that thought.

A subtle reminder. "Now, what comes after the crucifixion, my love?" He urges as he wipes his cum against his robes "The Resurrection," you pant. You knew that wasn't all of the stages, but for now, it was the most you could get through without faltering, and you felt proud of yourself as a smile plucked at his lips. Once you finish, you both orgasm against each other, his seed mixed with your wetness. He throws the candle stick into the trash and licks his finger with your mixed juices, but his robe is still a mess. You are too weak to speak, and then he catches you as you are about to collapse onto the floor. "I want to treasure this forever." He pants as he rushes towards you, shoving your hair behind your ear, and kisses your neck as your eyes drift close. "This is heaven...". You lower your head against his neck, and you catch your breath. This man will be the death of you.

[cosmonautroger]

Anthony Kiedis, John Frusciante, Under The Bridge, 1991

[karakt]

Please watch bridge kids theres like negative two fans plea

[gothushi]

father.

[dxcstrange-stuff]

"Your father never worked for Scorpia. He always worked for us. Always."

[vladede]

oh those kidz

[lcs-scar]

bridge kids cast hugs [individual character under the cut]

[sof182]

think we can get a drawing of younger Lars holding newborn Marc Anthony? 😔🙏💝

sorry for not doing this earlier ive been a bit busy

He Loves The Baby Very much. lars is like 10ish years old in this idrk

[vampiricvisions]

Bridge Kids fan art??!!

[tditingz]

The gang but coquette 🎀✨

[z0mibite]

pairing – father anthony bridge x gn!reader

warnings – makeout session, past suggestive/not full smut, reader is on anthonys lap, but he changes positions swiftly, no specific gender or sex for reader, implied reader isn't a virgin/reader doesn't like celibacy, no sex before marriage, slightly condescending anthony (in a sexy way ifykyk).

word count – 325

n/a – little snippet for yall since you're thirsting for mister bridge, might make it a full blown smut if you guys like it (I already have a title - make me a sinner), abruptly ends just to tease.

Breathless, you gasped as yours and Anthony's lips separated for the first time in what seemed like hours. Your legs straddled his thighs, barely resisting the urge to grind against the crotch of his denim.

His hands were warm against your waist, the blood rushing in your veins igniting a heat within that clawed its way to the surface of your skin.

If someone had seen either of you like this alone, they might assume you were on your deathbed. Feverish, flushed, struggling to breathe, writhing in discomfort—discomfort caused by the lack of friction between the one place you needed it most and him.

He exhaled against your lips, you inhaled, breathing in his essence. “Why must you make this so difficult for me?” He joked, a grin cracking his previously serious expression.

His eyes opened, meeting yours with a shade only comparable to natural diamonds. Your heart skipped a beat before you giggled in response to his question.

“What do you mean?” You asked between laughs.

Anthony rolled his eyes before flipping your position, now he leaned over you, gently holding your wrists in his hands.

“What do you mean?” He mocked. “What do you mean?” He repeated, in his own manner, emphasizing the ‘you’. 

He leaned down for a quick peck on your lips before trailing kisses along your jawline and down to your neck.

“Are you just desperate for me to marry you? Mm? Just want me to put a pretty little ring on your finger?” He left open-mouthed kisses on your throat following each question.

You whimpered under his false scrutiny, you had entered the relationship knowing full well he wouldn't fuck you till he married you. It was a boundary he had placed in the very beginning, but you can't lie and say you weren't frustrated with the life of celibacy.

“No.. something else..” You spoke, breathlessly.

“Oh? What's that?” He asked condescendingly, knowing full well what you wanted.

[bridgekidslover]

I think Marc would be a bit chubby

[denimbex1986]

We are lucky to be alive in the age of Andrew Scott, an actor of extraordinary breadth, skill and sensitivity, who can terrify as Jim Moriarty in Sherlock, make us fall in love (inappropriately) as the hot priest in Fleabag and cry in All of Us Strangers. He can also astonish, last year playing eight parts in a stage adaptation of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. He recently became the first actor to win the UK Critics’ Circle awards for best actor on stage and screen in the same year. And his latest project, Ripley, is a beautiful and chilling adaptation of the Patricia Highsmith novel The Talented Mr Ripley, with Scott playing the lead, dominating all eight one-hour episodes. It’s been a wild, crowning year for the 47-year-old Irish actor. But in March his mother, Nora, died of a sudden illness; she is who Scott has credited as being his foremost creative inspiration. His grief is fresh and intense and for the first half of the interview it seems to swim just beneath the surface of our conversation.

“We go through so many different types of emotional weather all the time,” he says. “And even on the saddest day of your life you might be hungry or have a laugh. Life just continues.” We are in a meeting room in his management company’s offices, talking about his ability, in his work, to modulate between emotions, to go from happy to sad, confused to scared, all within a matter of seconds. How does he do it? Scott laughs. “I would say that I have quite a scrutable face — is scrutable a word? — which is good or bad depending on what you are trying to achieve. But my job is to be as truthful as possible in the way that we are, and I don’t think that human beings are just one thing at any particular time. It is rare that we have one pure emotion.”

It’s an approach that is particularly appropriate for the playing of Tom Ripley, an acquisitive chameleon who inveigles his way into the lives of others (in this case Johnny Flynn, as the careless and wealthy Dickie Greenleaf, and his on-off girlfriend Marge, played by Dakota Fanning). “Ripley is witty, he is very talented. That’s gripping, to watch talent. I can’t call him evil — it is very easy to call people who do terrible things evil monsters, but they are not monsters, they are humans who do terrible things. Part of what she [Highsmith] is talking about is that if you dismiss a certain faction of society it has repercussions, and Ripley is someone who is completely unseen, he lives literally among the rats, and then there are these people who are gorgeous and not particularly talented and have the world at their feet but are not able to see the beauty that he can see.”

The show was written and directed by Steven Zaillian, the screenwriter of Schindler’s List. It’s set in Sixties New York and Italy, and filmed entirely in black-and-white, its chiaroscuro aesthetic evoking films of the Sixties — particularly those of Federico Fellini — while also offering an alternative to Anthony Minghella’s saturated late-Nineties iteration that starred Matt Damon and Jude Law. This has a darker flavour. “I found it challenging,” Scott says, “in the sense that he’s a solitary figure and ideologically we are very different. So you have to remove your judgment and try to find something that is vulnerable.”

It was a tough shoot, taking a year and filmed during lockdown. Scott was exhausted at the end of it and had intended to take a three-month break, but delays meant that he went straight from Ripley into All of Us Strangers. “Even though I was genuinely exhausted, it was energising because I was back in London, I was getting the Tube to work, there was sunshine,” he says. “I found it incredibly heartful, that film, there were so many different versions of love … I feel that all stories are love stories.”

All of Us Strangers, directed by Andrew Haigh, is about a screenwriter examining memories of his parents who died when he was 12. In it Scott’s character, Adam, returns to his family home, where his parents are still alive and as they were back in the Eighties. Adam is able to walk into the memory and to come out to his parents, finding the words that were unavailable to him as a boy. Some of it was filmed in Haigh’s childhood home, and there was a strong biographical element for him and his lead. Homosexuality was illegal in the Republic of Ireland until 1993, when Scott was 16. He did not come out to his parents until he was in his early twenties. I ask if he was working with his own childhood experiences in the film. “Of course, so in a sense it was painful, to a degree, but it was cathartic because you are doing it with people that you absolutely love and trust. I felt that it was going to be of use to people and I was right, it has been. The reaction to the movie has been genuinely extraordinary — it makes people feel and see things, and that isn’t an easy thing to achieve.”

The film is also a tender and erotic love story between Scott’s character and Harry, played by the Irish actor Paul Mescal. The two found a real-life kinship that made them a delight to watch on screen and off it, as a double act on the awards circuit. “I adore Paul, he’s so, so … continues to be …” Scott pauses. “Obviously it’s been a tough time recently and he just continues to be a wonderful friend. It’s everything. The more I work in the industry, I realise, you make some stuff that people love and you make some stuff that people don’t like, and all really that you are left with is the relationships that you make. I love him dearly.”

Scott and Mescal were also both notable on the red carpet for being extraordinarily well dressed. Scott loves fashion and has a big, well-organised wardrobe that he admits is in need of a cull. “I don’t like having too much stuff. I really believe that everything we have is borrowed — our stuff, our houses, we are borrowing it for a time. So I am trying to think of people who are the same size as me so I can give some of it away, and that’s a great thing to be able to do.” One of his favourite labels is Simone Rocha. “I love a bit of Simone Rocha. What a kind, glorious person she is. I just went to her show.” Fashion, he says, is in his DNA. “My mother was an art teacher, she was obsessed with all sorts of design. She loved jewellery and jewellery design. Anything that is visual, tactile, painting, drawing, is a big passion of mine, so I have tremendous respect for the creativity of designers.”

Today Scott is wearing Louis Vuitton trousers and a cropped Prada jacket, dressed up because he is collecting his Critics’ Circle award for best stage actor for Vanya. I ask how it feels to have won the double, a historic achievement. “Ah …” he says, looking at the table, going silent, having just been so voluble. “I’m sorry …” His voice cracks a little. “It’s bittersweet.”

At the ceremony Scott dedicated the award to his mother, saying of her “she was the source of practically every joyful thing in my life”. Is it difficult for him to carry on working in the circumstances, I wonder. “Well, you know, you have to — life goes on, you manage it day by day. It’s very recent, but I certainly can say that so much of it is surprising and unique, and there is so much that I will be able to speak about at some point.”

He is looking forward, he says, once promotion for Ripley is over, to taking some time off, going on holiday, going back to Ireland for a bit. He has homes in London and Dublin. To relax he walks his dog, a Boston terrier, dressed down in jeans and a hoodie “like a 12-year-old, skulking around the city” or goes to art galleries on the South Bank — he was considering a career as an artist until he was 17 and got a part in the Irish film Korea. He goes to the gym every day, “not, you know, to get …” he says, flexing his biceps. “More that it’s good for the head.” He is social, likes friends, likes a party. When I ask if he gave up drinking while doing Vanya, which required him to be on stage, alone, every night for almost two hours, he looks horrified. “Oh God, no! Easy tiger! Jesus … Although I didn’t drink much, I did have to look after myself. But we had a room downstairs in the theatre, a little buzzy bar, because otherwise I wouldn’t see anybody, so I was delighted to have people come down.”

Scott was formerly in a relationship with the screenwriter and playwright Stephen Beresford and is currently single, although this is not the sort of thing he likes to talk about. He is protective of his privacy, not wanting to reveal where he lives in London, or indeed the name of his dog — but he swerves such questions with a gentle good humour.

He is famous on set for being friendly and welcoming, for looking after other people. “The product is very important, but most of my time is spent in the process, so I want that to be as pleasant and kind as possible. I feel like it is possible to do that, that it is an honourable goal.” He is comfortable around people, with an easy charm — no one I have interviewed before has said my name so many times. And although when we talk he sometimes seems reflective or so very sad, there are also moments when he is exuberant, silly, putting on accents. “I feel like, as a person, I am quite near my emotions. I cry easily and I laugh easily, and there is nothing more pleasurable to me than laughing.”

Scott was raised a Catholic and is no longer practising, but says his view about religion is “ever changing — I definitely have a faith in things that cannot be proved”. When he was younger and felt overwhelmed, just before or after an audition, he would go to the Quaker Meeting House in central London and sit in silence, something that made its way into the second series of Fleabag, in which Scott’s priest takes Waller-Bridge’s character to that same meeting house. “It’s just around here,” he says, standing up, looking out of the window at Charing Cross Road. “When Phoebe and I first talked, we met at the Soho Theatre. We talked about love and religion, we walked all around here. And I said, ‘This is a place I go,’ so we called in and there was no one there, so we sat in there and we talked. It was a really magical day.”

Scott says he sees all the different characters that he has played as versions of himself. “It’s like, ‘What would this version of me look like?’ rather than, ‘Oh, I’m going to be somebody else.’ You filter it through you, and you discover more about yourself. I think that is a very lucky thing to be able to do, to find out more about yourself in the short time that we are here.”

[astarions-bride]

out of all Neil's characters...who is an ass man, tits man, or thigh man? 👀

The first Group Preferences!

Nikolai

Thighs and maybe your tits. Especially near the Femoral Artery. Loves to leave bitemarks and bruise-shaped handprints there and loves it when you wear short skirts or shorts to show them off. I see him being very territorial and possessive so any marks he leaves on you is akin to him leaving a claim on you. Same goes with your chest. The soft pliable flesh under his teeth fuels his more animalistic side and loves knowing his marks are all over your body.

Charlie

Tits. We all saw that short film. How he was eyeballing that woman's chest (calling them lovely 🥴). So I completely headcanon that this man is obsessed with tits. No matter the size, shape, etc. You would probably have to deal with a lot of groping from him. He would absolutely just faceplant on your chest and stay there for hours happily.

Father Anthony Bridge

He strikes me as a thigh man. Don't know why, but I just envision him placing his hand on your thigh while sitting next to you, squeezing and stroking casually, and he probably does it without realizing it.

Rob

Ass. Cannot keep his hands to himself. Will slip his hand into your back pocket or keep his hand splayed possessively across your ass. Loves to leave his handprints on your skin, loves to see your ass jiggle as you walk (or when he's taking you from behind 👀) and will stare obviously if you walk in front of him.

Captain Hook

Tits are his kryptonite. Any shape or size. Will absolutely get distracted if you go without a bra, openly staring with his fingers twitching with his effort of holding back from touching, but will instantly attack someone if they so much as glance near your chest. Loves to buy you clothing that enhances your breasts and he has quite an a eye for lingerie for you to wear.

Astarion

Loves every part of you, but has a special spot for your thighs. They are so warm and he loves having them wrapped around his waist (or his face) and loves laying between them. Also, same as Nikolai, the Femoral Artery is a favorite place for him to bite. Your throat is a place he also loves. Pressing his lips against your Carotid Artery, feeling the beat of your heart and the warmth of your skin, will have him falling into a sleep-like trance against you.

[goreyskeleton]

angsty teen who’s seen too much brother and way too oblivious about the worlds fucked upness toddler brother

[potpourri-of-ecclecticism]

- Kate’s not a lesbian. And she doesn’t want to break up. But... - What? Just say it. - Okay. What should I do? Should I get back with her? Or…

CRASHING (2016) | Episode 6 dir. George Kane