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#benedict bridgerton x reader
natti-ice · 3 days
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18+ mdni
Me: “fuck, I need his cock”
Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*
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valeskafics · 24 hours
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"Portrait Of A Goddess In Love" - Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
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a/n: hi friends! this is my first time writing for benedict (or for bridgerton at all) - please be nice lol. i'm planning on writing more for both him and colin 🩷
Summary: You grant your husband a request that he will not soon forget.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, fingering, p in v sex, breeding kink, creampie
Word Count: 1,890 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Bridgerton characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Three years on in your marriage to Benedict and the two of you still act like newlyweds. It is not uncommon for your household staff to walk in on the two of you in compromising positions anywhere and everywhere around your estate. It has made for some rather colorful stories to spread around the ton, courtesy of Lady Whistledown, but neither of you can bring yourselves to stop. Or care.
You let out a yawn, waking up in your husband’s arms, eyes opening ever so slightly before closing once again. You cuddle up to Benedict, his warm, bare body against yours, his arms cradling you as he begins to stir. He lets out a contented sigh as you tuck yourself under his chin.
“My beautiful wife,” he says gently, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, “Did you sleep well, my dearest?”
“Like a baby,” you tell him, kissing his chest.
“So did you sleep well because of last night’s activities or in spite of them?” Benedict questions, smirking at you, making you giggle as you crane your neck up to brush your nose against his in a display of affection.
“You tired me out, husband. What more can I say?”
He moves a hand to caress your face, his thumb running along your cheekbone. These tiny moments you share, in the privacy of your shared bedroom far away from the prying eyes of the ton, have become almost sacred to the two of you. Benedict’s hand moves to rest against your hip, trailing up along your side, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.
“Ben?”
“Hm?” He questions, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“You know how you mentioned that you wished to paint me… Bare?”
Benedict lets out a hum of acknowledgment, his hand moving to cup one of your breasts, squeezing gently, groaning at the feel of your soft flesh beneath his palm, “I certainly do. And you promised me you would think about it before outright rejecting my request.”
“I have decided to grant it.” He pauses in his ministrations, a grin spreading across his face as he meets your eyes, “I know I was hesitant before… But there’s something thrilling about the idea.”
“I had a feeling you would come around eventually,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose, then brushes his lips against yours as he whispers, “So you truly would allow me to then?”
You nod your head, “We could do it today? We have no commitments. And it is raining.”
A devilish grin spreads across your husband’s handsome face, “Perfect. Then let me go get my supplies. You just wait here and keep looking beautiful.”
After he has set up his easel and canvas, you prop your head up on your hand, posing in the way which he requested you to. Benedict comes to fix your hair so that it flows to your side rather than obscuring your figure, fixes the placement of your other hand and your leg, pressing a kiss to your cheek before taking a seat. You watch as he takes out his brushes, dipping them in paint before he begins to sketch you out on the canvas.
Benedict’s eyes on you are so intense, so piercing that it isn’t long before you feel that familiar throbbing between your thighs, that need to be filled by your beloved, for him to hold you, pin you down to the bed, and claim your body as he has nearly every night since the day you said “I do”. You press your thighs together, your hand trailing along your breasts down to your stomach. Almost as if he can read your innermost thoughts, Benedict’s cheeks flush. Seeing you bare like this excites him, even after admiring you in this way so many times.
“Is that a blush, Ben?” You tease.
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. You watch the way his bicep flexes as he runs a hand through his unkempt hair, that adorable grin playing on his lips as he continues admiring you unabashedly for a moment longer. Finally he returns to the task at hand, chiding you playfully.
“Don’t try to distract me. I am an artist at work here, darling.”
You sigh dramatically but allow him to continue, waiting patiently as he moves his brush along the canvas. The rain patters against your window, thunder booming and lightning crackling as he continues about his task, the storm lending itself to the atmosphere in your room. You are beautiful, Benedict muses as he continues to paint your likeness, now working on the details of your gorgeous face, those eyes that have held him captive for nearly half his life. You look irresistible while clothed, but like this? Utterly bare and vulnerable, gazing at him so gently?
You look downright divine. Like you have descended from the heavens themselves only to bless him with your angelic presence.
“Just stay still another moment longer, my love.”
His voice is a low, husky whisper, and you know that he is having as hard a time resisting the urge to take you here and now as you are resisting asking him to. You nod, smiling at him softly.
“For you? Always.”
Benedict finishes painting the contours of your body, the flow of your hair, every line bringing him more and more excitement, his cock growing harder at the mere sight of you laying there, gazing at him. He regrets having put on his trousers to go and grab his supplies from his studio, because now? They are so uncomfortably tight that all he can think of is the relief he will feel when he finally has you in his arms again.
He beckons you over to see the finished product, watching with hooded eyes as you walk toward him, his gaze hungry. You move to stand beside him, letting out a soft gasp as you admire the painting.
“Oh, Ben… It’s beautiful!”
For a moment, his hunger is forgotten and his artist’s pride is satisfied as he moves to stand beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, “It is far from finished-”
“Don’t be so modest!” You slap his chest playfully, “It’s stunning. I adore it. And you.”
“And I adore you,” he murmurs, turning to face you completely, cupping your face in his hands as he whispers, “Being able to look at you like this. You are the most exquisite creature I have ever beheld.”
You beam up at him, with all the radiance of a woman in love, “Come warm your muse in our bed, my darling. Finish your masterpiece later. I need you.”
He nods eagerly, ridding himself of his trousers, both of you bare once again as you lay side by side in bed, your bodies pressed flush against each other. He can feel your every breath as it seeps into his own, his fingers running through your hair.
“You were made for my bed,” he breathes, “I swear you were.”
You giggle as his hand moves to your thigh, squeezing your supple flesh with a low groan. His hands feel so perfect against you, you cannot help but tilt your head back as his lips find your neck, his fingers sliding between your slick folds. You’re always so wet for him, so ready for his touch. You moan softly as he nibbles at your collarbone, leaving his mark as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a lazy, languid pace. After all, you have all day together. Why should he not take his time to savor you?
“Ben,” you whisper softly, feeling his thumb circle your swollen pearl, your breath catching as he presses down against it, “I’m ready for us to start our family.”
He continues his movements, bringing you to the edge of ecstasy, watching your face twist with pleasure as you come undone against his fingertips. He wonders if your words were a mere dream as he pins you down against the bed, rolling on top of you.
“Are you sure, my love?” He asks softly, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, teasing your entrance, “I do not wish to rush you into anything.”
“We have had a beautiful three years of just you and I, Benedict,” you reply, resting a hand on his cheek, watching as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, “But I wish to start our family. I wish to have your children.”
“You are certain?” He asks, his heartbeat racing as he joins his body with yours.
Benedict lets out a low groan as his cock slips between your slick folds, filling you to the hilt. You have always taken him so well, so perfectly, your legs moving to wrap around his hips, a silent plea for him to fuck you harder, deeper. His hands move to your ass, squeezing and kneading your flesh.
“Yes, Benedict. I have never been more certain of anything since the day I agreed to marry you.”
With that, your husband lets go of any inhibitions he may have had, his hips rolling against yours in an eager, desperate rhythm. Your lips meld against his, arms wrapping around his neck as he ruts against you, the fat head of his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you that has you crying out his name.
“You insatiable man,” you murmur against his lips, “One would think after three years perhaps your lust would have been somewhat sated.”
He laughs softly, committing the sound of the rain against your window, the sound of your moans and his skin slapping against yours to memory, “I am what you married. And my lust for you will never be sated. Not with how desperately I love you.”
You nibble at his bottom lip, giggling when he moans, his thrusts growing faster and faster, more frantic as he chases his release, his every thought consumed by the thought of spilling himself inside you, watching your love bear fruit, watching you grow round with his child, the whole ton being made aware that it was he, Benedict Bridgerton, who gave you his baby. His hips slot against yours, your walls squeezing around him almost unbearably tight as you reach your peak, white hot pleasure washing over you as you all but scream his name, your nails digging into his back. The sensation of you reaching your climax is enough to trigger his own as he spills himself inside you, thick white ropes of his seed painting your walls white.
Benedict stays like that for a long moment, gazing into your eyes, moving a hand to brush your hair off your face as he softens inside of you.
“You will make a perfect mother,” he whispers affectionately.
“And you will make the most wonderful father,” you reply, beaming at him, “I love you, Mr. Bridgerton.”
He smirks, “And I love you, Mrs. Bridgerton. Rest for now and recover your energy. Because your insatiable husband is nowhere near finished with you, my love.”
“I look forward to it, husband.”
Needless to say the entire ton is quite scandalized when they learn of the fact that a nude painting of you hangs in the foyer of your and Benedict’s home, the masterpiece being titled “Portrait of a Goddess in Love”.
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homeofthepeculiar · 3 days
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I was thinking if Y/n has a fit in front of the Bridgerton family and how they would comfort her (because I refuse to believe they wouldn’t comfort her) maybe Benedict’s not there for whatever reason??? Hope your having a lovely day/night 💙
I love, love, love this!
Over the Garden Wall Drabble - Fit for Family Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.2k
Benedict was sick. 
Not terribly so, as the doctor had said. Because, yes, Y/N had called on the doctor. She had been terrified, at first. He ran warm, but this…it was a fever. She knew fevers. Cold sweats. She was so scared, but he would be alright. The doctor had insisted that he would be alright. He just needed time to rest. He needed to sweat the fever out. The thing was, he was contagious. Which meant, the monthly family dinner was not something he could attend.
Y/N had said she could stay, but he insisted that she go. He knew how much she loved those dinners and did not want to be the reason she missed one. Especially not when Daphne and Simon were to be in town. 
So she went. She entrusted Marietta and Siobhan with the children and hopped into the carriage. It would be fine. She had been around the Bridgertons without Benedict before. Well, not all of them. At least, she couldn’t remember if she ever had. But it was fine. 
Daphne would be there, Kate would be there, Eloise would be there, Penelope would be there, and, most importantly, Violet would be there. She would be fine. 
And she was…for a time. 
The dinner was raucous, as it was always going to be. Conversations over conversations. Violet shouting about table manners even though Hyacinth, the youngest, was now fully grown. Well, almost fully grown. She was about two years from debuting, something that Violet would never tire speaking of. An empty nest, she called it. Strange considering Bridgerton House was never empty. 
Anthony was currently regaling her about their most recent trip to India. They had brought their children, something that Kate had always talked about doing. Y/N smiled as he spoke. He was so invested in learning about his wife’s culture and home country. He was more animated than she had ever seen him. 
From the other end of the table, Eloise shouted at her, asking her a question. 
“What?” Y/N wondered, confused. 
“That painter…the one with the…you know? The…what was it?” Eloise wondered.
Y/N wracked her brain, trying to think of something. “I do…I do not know what you are speaking of,” the princess responded.
Eloise pursed her lips, trying to figure out the best way to explain it, but found that she could not so she turned back to Penelope to continue their conversation. 
Y/N was immediately pulled back to Anthony as he explained the intricacies of the Holi festival and how he thought he would hate being covered in colored powder but found that it was surprisingly freeing. 
“That sounds beautiful,” Y/N commented because, truly, it did, but his words started to fade in the background. The silver of the utensils had started to heat up under her hands. Her shaking hands. Oh, god. They clattered to the table. She cleared her throat to cover the sound. “I am s-sure the children e-enjoyed it,” the princess said.
“Yes…” Anthony said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you alright, Y/N?”
“Y-Yes,” she said, her voice shaky. “Excuse—Excuse me.” She got up from her seat, stumbling slightly. She exited the room, hearing the voice fade into the background. She felt the rushing of blood in her ears and she could not get terribly far. 
She leaned against the wall, trying to take deep breath after deep breath. “Mercury…V…No,” she cried. She pressed her palms to her eyes. Somewhere, someone called her name. She felt a hand on her and she flinched. 
More voices. Under water. Rushing blood. It was too much. She couldn’t stop it. It was too late. The words didn’t make sense anymore. What order did the planets go in again?
“Venus,” someone said. It was a familiar voice. There was a hand on her again, it was warm, it smelled like lilies. 
“N-no,” Y/N said, her neck twitching. “S-Sorry.”
Someone told her not to apologize. The voice did not match the hand. It was deeper. It was familiar too. Another hand, another voice. The scent of orchids. “Earth, right?” Someone else agreed. 
“S-sorry,” Y/N tried. “Lose the…m-moon. T-Tides are…god. Retreat-retreating.”
Someone asked what came next. There was an argument. The voices were so loud and the blood was even louder. She felt the spots in her vision. Her eyes weren’t even open. 
“It’s Mars,” someone said. Another familiar voice. Who was that? Hands were ripped off of her. No, not ripped, they slowly retreated. Someone took her hand. “Mercury…”
Y/N nodded. “M-mercury, yes.”
“Venus.”
Y/N hummed and nodded again. “V-Venus. Earth.”
“Good,” the voice said. It was deeper. The hand on her was cold. Who had cold hands? It smelled like the sea. “What’s next, Y/N?” he asked.
“M-M-Mars. Jupiter.”
“Good,” the voice said again. She couldn’t place it. It was so similar to the moon. Where was the moon? The moon retreated. No, the tides retreated. The voice felt like the crashing sea. The retreating tides. Long trips and sadness. No…happiness. No…confusion. The voice was the sea. 
“Saturn. Uranus.”
“Good, can you do it again?” he asked.
His heartbeat was steady. It felt different than the moon’s. No less powerful, though. It beat like a brother. It beat in a rhythm like a boat crashing against a dock. “Mercury, Venus…Earth…Mars…J-Jupiter…Uranus.” She took a deep breath. The scent of the sea again. She couldn’t open her eyes. She was too scared to open her eyes.
“It’s alright,” the voice said before she could even apologize.
She knew who it was then. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” the voice repeated. Colin repeated. He smelled like the sea and all of his travels. 
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” another voice said. The scent of lilies. Kate. Then orchids. Daphne. Hands on her that were kind. A forehead pressed to her cheek. Violets. No, just Violet. 
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re here for you,” someone else said. It was Eloise. She was far away, but not under water. Her voice sounded like the cracking spine of a new book. 
“Always.” That was Anthony. Of course, it was. Steadfast, strong, there.
She finally opened her eyes. They were there. All of them. They were there for her. “I’m—”
“Don’t,” Colin said, amusement in his voice. “You need not apologize.”
“Yes, never apologize,” Violet said from her side. 
“Do you want to sit down?” Daphne asked.
Y/N was still shaking. She nodded. She allowed herself to be led into the drawing room. More hands on her. Assisting hands. They did not suffocate her. A voice that accompanied the scent of ink, a hand on hers that was comforting. Penelope. A deeper voice that she had not heard in a while. A voice of assuredness. Simon. Hands with lithe fingers. Francesca. Voices that would always belong to children in her eyes. Gregory and Hyacinth. 
It was alright. 
She did not apologize again, even though she wanted to. Once, she was sure that she would spend the rest of her life apologizing. It seemed that, even now, that was a habit she had to unlearn. But it did not matter. It was alright. 
“We’re here for you,” Colin said and of course he knew the planets. He knew the ebb and flow of the tides. He knew the rise and fall of the moon. 
“Always,” Violet said with a smile. Her nod was sure. Her nod was strong. 
It was alright.
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ngl this made me cry a bit, Colin coming in clutch (I love him)
Taglist: @imdoingbetternow @dd122004dd @soulmates8 @aureolinb @poppyalice2001 @thatgirljas13 @sunnygrey99 @frogsandhomicidalducks @dreadity @psychomanias @muxshwriting @erinroney @theregencywriter @wobbly-fluggers @moonwayne @esposadomd @marvelspogue @avengersgirllorianna @bwormie @noirrose21-blog @themadhattersqueen @ziarah @esposadomd @thicficbich1 @luvaerina @smileofthesun27 @mythical-mushrooms13 @siimiasoi @wannapizzamymindposts @everavenclaw @kno-way-home @unfortunatekiwitrash @melsunshine @butterfly-skinnylegend @yunloyal @fanfiction-she-wrote @iamaslytherin0 @marvelouslyme96 @soundslikerains-blog @ilovespideyyy @isagivinny @eyesarefullofstars @beingalive1 @the-great-imagines-of-1812 @rayisthehoe @empressnatsume @hopefulatrocity @daddyissues-muah @boo8008 @pinkpantheris @yourmumstoy @jupitervenusearthmars @strawberrypink-jellybeans @crispysublimecupcake @galactict3a @dumdumsun
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itshelia · 3 months
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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.
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fayes-fics · 10 months
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Second Son
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...
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Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.
Word Count: 2.9k
Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3
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Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.
____
His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.
He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.
But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.
____
“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 
“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.
“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”
“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.
He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.
What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 
So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 
“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.
“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.
____
She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 
Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.
“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.
“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.
“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.
Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 
“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.
Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.
“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 
She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.
____
Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.
“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.
“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.
“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.
“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.
“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”
“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 
You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 
You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.
“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.
“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.
“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”
“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. ��Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.
Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.
____
Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 
He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 
Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.
____
You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.
“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.
He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.
“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”
You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.
“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”
You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.
“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.
Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.
“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.
“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.
“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.
____
His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 
Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.
He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 
And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.
____
“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 
“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.
And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 
____
“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.
“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.
“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.
“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.
There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.
“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.
“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.
An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.
____
He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.
“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 
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Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep
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inpraizeof · 11 months
Note
Can you write a Benedict Bridgerton fluff oneshot where Colin is best friends with the reader’s twin brother (and she with Daphne and Eloise) and Colin let’s it slip that he’s accidentally seen the reader in her nightgown amongst his and Anthony’s teasing of Benedict’s long-standing feelings for her and the reader happens to overhear?
little things
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benedict bridgerton x reader
synopsis: the brothers teasing has finally made its mark, and benedict can’t hold himself back anymore
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colin, anthony and benedict greeted you and your twin brother as you arrived to the bridgerton household. the bridgerton sisters followed, daphne and eloise smiling brightly at you as you returned their smile.
your twin brother, ernest, was swept up by the bridgerton boys. you turned back to raise an eyebrow at him, “be back soon! and nothing out of the sorts, i mean it, bridgertons!” you tried to use your best, stern voice as your brother was shoved out the door, most likely going to the local gentlemen’s club.
your brother was usually sent home in a carriage, practically spilling out the door with how drunk he was. it was funny the first few times, but now it was anything but.
daphne and eloise took you by the arms, leading you to their library for some discussion on the latest novel you have all been reading. “don’t worry about ernest, he’s a good boy, and colin will take him home as always.” daphne tried to comfort you, but thinking about it, it didn’t make it any better.
a few drinks in, and ernest excused himself. the three brothers watched him walk steadily out to find the bathroom before turning to each other.
“he’s a delight.” anthony remarked with a smile before downing his drink.
colin laughed, “i’ll say. his sister is turning out to be an even better one!” he swung his rum around in his glass, taking a sip while he turned a coy eye to anthony.
anthony picked up what colin was putting down and nodded firmly, “yes. a good set of childbearing hips, and she has a good set of lungs on her.” he raised his eyebrows at benedict, who knew exactly what his brothers were doing.
“i’ll have you two know, that lady y/n is a very intelligent woman. a good set of brains on her.” he nodded, happy with his answer as he swung a drink down.
“a good set of something for sure.” colin pursed his lips, “the modiste didn’t use too much fabric on her nightgown. i could practically see everything.” he nudged anthony who nearly spat out his drink.
benedict stopped moving completely, “what?”
colin shrugged, “her hips, every curve, every nook, every cranny. she’s gorgeous, brother. i understand why you fancy her so.” anthony quieted the conversation just as ernest walked back into the room, “listen boys, let’s call it a night shall we?”
you rushed down the steps of the bridgerton house as you heard the carriage pull up. you bid your farewell to the sisters as you walked out into the fresh london air.
the door to the carriage opened and out fell the three bridgerton brothers. anthony greeted you first, bidding you a quick goodbye as he strolled inside. colin did the same, avoiding your eyes, strangely, he booked it inside.
benedict took slow steps as you approached the carriage, his hands in his pocket as you stopped before him.
“my, my, sir bridgerton. i see that the night has served us both well.” you smiled, and benedict returned the smile, “only has it gotten better that you illuminate it once more with your smile.” he complimented you, “have a good night, lady y/n.” he grabbed your hand, gently placing a kiss on it before strolling inside.
as you hopped into the carriage, you saw your brother, slightly less drunk than previous times, still smiling widely though as he greeted you.
“sister- didn’t you have a coat on when we arrived?” he blinked once before throwing his head back, closing his eyes with a groan.
you looked down and realized he was right. you were wearing a long sleeved dress, and didn’t even realize you had forgotten your cost. good thing the carriage hadn’t pulled off yet!
you stepped down, and ran back up the steps to the bridgerton house. a maid let you in, and you ran back to the library to get your coat.
you found it sitting in the chair that you had been in, and you shucked it on.
you tiptoed out of the library and past anthony’s study, which had the door cracked open. as you approached, you heard loud voices echoing off the walls. it was the brothers, and whatever it was about, was clearly heating them up.
“-you can’t just say things like that, colin! you know how he feels about her!” one voice said, and you deciphered it to be anthony.
colin, you assumed, cleared his throat, matching the volume level, “i am drunk! and it’s about time he admits he loves her, im tired of trying to make him jealous enough to do it! i might as well marry her if that’s what it’ll take!” it was clearly about a girl, and it seemed like it was about benedict too.
benedict, the last one to say anything was sighing deeply, “you are so lucky i didn’t punch you out right there. how could you admit to seeing her in her nightgown?! she was indecent, and yet you joke about it like it’s something funny? y/n is a lady, her twin brother is our best friend!” benedict shouted back at colin, and you realized with a pang, that it was you they were talking about.
“fine, im sorry benedict. but you need to admit things to yourself. this isn’t just some childhood crush, she’s debuting next season, make sure y/n becomes your wife.” colin exited the room first, and as the door opened, your shocked face on the other side of it, it was like his face was lit on fire.
“y/n- lady y/n! i thought you left?” colin pushed the door open and his brothers stood up to meet him at the door.
you looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “i left my coat behind.” you looked at the three brothers and nodded firmly, “very well. i shall depart now.” you gave colin a glare before you started to walk away.
as you walked, you heard them whispering amongst themselves, and as you reached the door, a slap echoed into the hall and you stopped for a moment until you continued on.
as you walked down the steps to the carriage, a shout had you turning around.
“y/n!” all formalities had been thrown out as benedict stepped down to meet you, he panted slightly and caught his breath, “my brothers-“ he laughed, “are horrible.” he finished, “i apologize for what you heard, if you did hear anything but,” he reached down and grabbed your hands in his, taking you by surprise, “i suppose i needed this.” he chuckled slightly, “in order to do this.”
leaning forward, his lips met yours in a kiss, taking you in his arms, you kissed him back roughly. suddenly, it dawned on you where you were, and you inhaled sharply, pulling back.
“mr. bridgerton.” you couldn’t help but smile as you fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. his hand lifted your chin slightly and you stared for the first time in those big bright eyes, “i suppose you’ll see me tomorrow morning.” he let you go now, and you smiled, “i suppose so.”
he turned and watched you walk to your carriage, your brothers drunk slurs floating up to benedict’s ears as he carried himself back inside, his brothers already cheering from the doorway.
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bellatrixscurls · 6 months
Text
exquisite weather today, no? | part i
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warnings : smut, dom anthony and sub reader, pet names, fluff, ben and colin being little shits, reader is kind of naive given the action takes places sometime in the 1810s.
summary : anthony does not want to corrupt his innocent little wife... but what happens when his brothers lend him a helping hand?
a/n: please enjoy part one of my new series until i am done with the james and sirius fic, thank you! <3
“You are telling me that you have not slept in that way with your wife?” Benedict stops in their way down the halls, looking very much concerned. Anthony hums, checking his clock.
“But you’ve been married for almost a year now!” the younger brother exclaims, looking up at the viscount with a frown.
Anthony smirks and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. “Not that it is any of your concern, but we do things. Together. Alone” his lie is obvious, but still, he leaves Benedict stunned in the middle of the hallway.
When he finally realises that the maids are looking at him funny, Benedict clears his throat and offers them a polite nod, before following Anthony into the drawing room.
Ah, here you are — sitting next to Colin on one of the sofas. With Anthony distracted, speaking to Daphne about the ‘Hearts and Flowers’ ball, he approaches you carefully, sitting beside Colin.
“Exquisite weather today, isn’t it?” he gives you a nod and you mirror his action, smiling, “Indeed it is, Ben.”
Colin looks between the two of you, back and forth, a confused smile gracing his lips. “This is not about the weather, is it?” he whispers through gritted teeth.
Benedict’s smile turns into a grin when the words leave his brother’s mouth. “I am, in fact, glad that you asked, Colin!” he says happily, “I came here because I need some... advice, from Y/n.”
Raising your eyebrows, you look at him in curiosity, “and what could someone such as yourself need advice for?”
Benedict thinks about it for a moment; should he say it? He means no harm but... a little fun won’t hurt... will it?
“Sex” the words leave his mouth and Colin chokes on his tea, eyes wide as he looks back at Benedict. ‘Are you mad?’ he mouths to his brother, but the second-born chooses to ignore him and look back at you. “So. Y/n?”
Benedict finds you looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pursed as you tried to search for that word in your mind, but with no results. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Ben.”
This time, it is Colin looking back at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Pardon? Anthony is your husband, there is no such thing as not knowing what sex is.. Does he refer to it differently?”
“You know... when you’re alone, naked, and he towers over you. That thing he puts in between your legs” Benedict quips, already very much content of where Colin has taken the conversation.
“He towers over me?”
The two burst out laughing at your cluelessness and, from the other side of the large room, Anthony’s brows furrow in concern.
“His cock, sweetness. What he has between his legs. I’m sure he spoils the crap out of you with it every night” Benedict taunts and Colin laughs breathily, adding on “or maybe he does not, brother. Seeing that Anthony is so busy all the time. He has more important things to take care of, I suppose.”
At this point, your eyes are teary and your hands are shaking as you listen to your brothers-in-law tease you endlessly. You are not aware of the meaning behind it, though.
In a moment, you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you up against the warmth of someone’s body; Anthony. As you look up at him, his heart shatters and his jaw clenches. “I do not know what you did, but be sure that I will find out. And when I do, I hope you will be taking a walk far away from here. More walks.”
And with that, he takes you away from his brothers and rest of the family, not bothering to excuse himself or you, his face red with hatred. He doesn’t know what his brothers told you, but he is positive that it managed to hurt you... And Anthony cannot bare seeing you hurt.
His hand grips yours tightly, in a possessive manner, not hurting you. He is always gentle with you, no matter the circumstances.
Once you reach the wooden door, Anthony ushers you into the bedroom with a hand at the small of your back, following closely behind before he closes the door.
“What did they tell you, my love?” his tone is alarmed and so are his hands, twitching at his sides.
When your eyes finally meet his, they are still filled with tears, sadness pulling at your heart. “Am I a burden to you? Am I- not pretty enough?”
Anthony’s heart breaks and he realises that he’s never seen you so sad before, not even when you were merely a couple and you had family issues.
“Angel, you have to tell me what it is that they told you. I need to know” he repeats through gritted teeth, ready to walk down those stairs and strangle Benedict and Colin.
“Sex” you repeat Benedict’s words unsurely, glancing up at Anthony. “Told me you are too busy for that. And I- you have never told me of that.”
At this point, his hands fly to your waist and he positions you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your lower body as he turns you to face him entirely. “My darling- They told you that? I-” he seems at a loss for words, and finally, his lips fall into a straight line and he lets go of your hand for a second, walking away from you, and to the floor mirror in his room. You pout as you lose his warmth, and your brows furrow when you notice him pulling the mirror towards you.
He takes his hand in yours and he helps you to your feet, your bottom lip wobbling when you catch sight of your teary eyes, but Anthony notices immediately, and his hands move to hug you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“You are so beautiful” he says softly, placing a kiss on the side of your neck, nosing at your skin as he continues speaking, “Undress for me, my love.”
Breathing having picked up, your eyes widen anxiously as your hands find his. “Anthony-” “I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Trust me. Please” he pleads, his eyes looking helplessly into yours. You give a curt nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage.
Your shaky hands move to undress yourself and Anthony helps peel off your dress and chemise, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.
Anthony lets out one of the most obscene sounds when he presses his clothed body to your bare one, and you can feel his erection pressing into your backside, not that you are aware of what that is. Yet.
“Your hand. Move it down your body” he commands rather softly, watching you through the mirror. Your cheeks heat up but you obey nonetheless, your left hand stopping right above your lower stomach, “Lower. Touch your pussy for me, sweetheart.”
“Alright” you take a deep breath, your hand sliding further down your body, resting at your cunt, your warm touch making you shiver. “Feels odd” you whine, eyes pleading as you find his eyes through the mirror.
He bites his lip, his eyes closing for a moment before he is able to look at you again. “It shall feel good in just a moment... Can- Do you want me to show you?”
“Yes, please” you whisper and his hand instantly reaches to your cunt, using both of his hands to spread you open, your folds damp and spread out for him. “S’pretty” you say absentmindedly, dreamily staring at yourself in the mirror.
“Yes it is” he hums, grinning widely against your shoulder. His middle finger taps your clit twice, and he smirks as your body jolts up. “See this, darling? It’s your clit, your little button... You can rub it whenever you wish to feel good.”
“Whenever I wish?” you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.
“Yes, sweetness” he hums, his cock hardening at the thought of you wanting to touch yourself, let alone to the thought of him. “And if you want it to feel even better, you must-” with your hole dripping wet, Anthony manages to slip a digit right inside of you, causing you to gasp in both slight pain and excitement. He is finally giving it to you.
“Anthony- what is this?” you ask curiously, Anthony’s finger still inside of you, leaving you to adjust to the sudden intrusion.
“Bit of stimulation before I can give you my cock, bunny. Or, as my dear brothers wish to call it, have sex” he chuckles lowly and starts pumping his finger into you, your fragile body shaking, your knees ready to give out, but you know that he is here to catch you.
“Great” you reply breathily, one of your hands slipping into his.
“You must relax, my love” he tuts, moving his finger in and out slowly, the feeling leaving you bucking your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back. “Let them enjoy the show” he eyes you intently through the mirror.
You look at him rather confused, but his other hand moves to cup your jaw and gently turn your head to the side, towards the door.
A door cracked open. Benedict and Colin.
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iwritefandomimagines · 11 months
Text
NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON
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masterlist
pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]
description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.
warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !
author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]
“You look astonishing, Y/N,” Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”
You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”
You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.
“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”
You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”
Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.
“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”
You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.
For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.
Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.
Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.
But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.
“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”
You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.
“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”
Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”
Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.
He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.
And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.
“Of course.”
You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.
“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”
You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”
As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”
“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”
You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.
When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.
“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”
Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.
“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”
You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”
Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”
You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.
“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”
You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.
With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.
Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.
“Are you waiting here for my brother?”
The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.
“Not for him, no.”
“Then for another?”
“I suppose so.”
“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”
“For me?”
The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.
Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.
“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.
He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”
You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”
“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”
“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”
The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”
You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”
“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”
“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”
“We do.”
You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.
“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.
“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”
He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.
“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.
Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.
“And I cannot wait.”
———
horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!
feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.
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kinokomoonshine · 10 months
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They just love the taste of your lips,
Once they start kissing you they just can't stop, you just have this... this... taste, it's so, so sweet and- and- addictive and makes it impossible for them to stop
They can just go in for a sweet and innocent little peak and not even 5 seconds later, they're already full making out with you, they just can't resist it, can't resist you.
And everyone in the room will be side eyeing you and telling you to get a room, but they can't hear it, no, they are more focused and interest in your lips, in you. - someone literally has to drag one of you away because you will be late to something.
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BENEDICTBRIDGERTON, Bellamy Blake, GEORGE WEASLY, DICK GRAYSON, Hawk Moskowitz, EDDIE MUNSON, Finn (Gilmore Girls), ISAAC LAHEY, Kol Mikealson, Kuroo Tetsurou, SUNA RINTARO, Atsumu Miya, Luke Dunphy, Marcus Lopez, MALIA TATE, SERO HANTA, Steven Hyde, Sweet Pea, Carl Gallagher, Finnick Odair
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Masterlist
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disasterofastory · 8 months
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Wifey duties (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)
Wifey duties Benedict Bridgerton x Reader Warnings: Reader is drunk
Summer: You go home to your husband after a night out with the ladies.
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Benedict can hear your approach even before you appear at the entrance of your shared bedroom. His eyes are on the door. The thick book he read a few minutes ago is long forgotten on his lap. Amusement spreads across his chest when he hears you walking against a small table in the hallway. His shoulders shake with laughter. "Damn it," you grunt. Something falls off the table. "Shit." "Y/N?" He asks a bit louder so you can hear him. "Are you okay?" You don't answer immediately, but your head soon peeks out from behind the wall. You seem surprised.
And drunk.
There is a hazy glint in your eyes, and your hair is a mess from adjusting it so often through the night. A few curls hang in front of your face. "I'm fine," you reply. It almost sounds like a question. "Are you sure?" He asks, grinning. "Do you need my help?" After looking back at the table one last time, you make your way into the room with a soft scoff. "I'm fine. Thank you." "Okay."
Oh, he is so ready for the show.
He watches you in silence the whole time while you take off your clothes. Your dress pools around your legs, and Benedict is afraid you will break your arms as you untie the corset on your back. He isn't even sure if you should be able to do that. Your movements are too confident in contrast to how clumsy you are. Quiet groans and cussings leave your lips every now and again as you walk back and forth in the room. Soon, your hair is free from pins, and your face is clean from makeup. A relieved sigh escapes your chest as you put down the brush on the table, but when you turn around, your eyes widen at the sight of your husband. "Benedict!" You grin when you move on from your surprise. "Hey!" "Hey, my love," he laughs. "Do you want to come to bed?"
He doesn't have to ask twice. You land on the soft sheets with another grunt, and he has to help you adjust the blanket on you. His book falls to the ground, and none of you move to pick it up. Your husband's hands are too busy tucking you in until you are cocooned into the warmth that smells like him. "So, how was your night?" He asks after a few minutes. His long fingers caress the line of your jaw. He plays with your hair behind your ear. "Good," you reply. "Lady Danbury makes great drinks." "I'm sure," he hums, smiling. "How much did you drink?" "It was my duty as your wife," you state, and he laughs. "Was it?" "Yes," you nod confidently. "And I'm good with cards. I win some money." Your husband's shocked laugh can be heard all around the house. "What?" "Yes, and I boasted about how great my husband is." "In front of my mother?" He doesn't even know if he should laugh or cry. Your eyes widen, and you look around the room as if somebody could hear you. "Not the naughty bits," you whisper loudly. Then and there, Benedict is sure he never saw anyone as sweet as you. "And talking about the naughty bits…" Before your husband knows it, you are already on top of him. Your lips are pulled into a sultry smile. Your hair frames your heated cheeks. "I have other wifey duties, I believe." "Y/N, I don't think-" You frown. "Are you really going to reject your wife, Benedict Bridgerton?" The man frowns too. "What am I? A fool?"
The only thing that can stop your laugh is Benedict's lips on yours.
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valeskafics · 1 day
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what if i ignored all my wip’s and wrote something for benedict bridgerton tonight
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homeofthepeculiar · 2 days
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i do not know if you're accepting requests but i thought of something funny. Reader is basically avoiding Benedict, she's locking doors, running in hallways,hiding behind curtains, and hiding in cabinets. He thought she was having her episodes again ; He wants to help her. But actually, she doesn't want him to touch her because her garden is in bloom. And if they start touching, they probably won't stop it, won't end well. They would probably end up pregnant again she rambles this. And he's just 5 seconds from dying of laughter. A slightly smutty and crack fic perhaps..... You do alterations if you want hahahahaha.
lmaooo yes!! Kinda took it and ran
Over the Garden Wall - Garden in Bloom Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: slight smut; allusions to smut as well, I guess?; straight up horny shit
It happened a year and a half after Lucia was born. They were back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be with four children. Spoiled children who were still yet to unlearn what their grandmother had taught them. 
It hadn’t happened the first time that Y/N had gone without a child. She had lasted three years then but this time, it was less than two. 
She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at her husband playing with their kids or standing behind his easel or even eating breakfast. It was too much. It was all the time. Too hot to sleep beside him but too cold to go anywhere else. And his hands wandered. They always did. They always had. In bed, a hand found her hip. In the hallway, a hand found her waist. In the morning, a hand found her neck and his lips found hers. 
She started to push him away. Literally. A shove here and there. She played it off with a chuckle. 
Benedict noticed because, of course, he did. It became a game to him. A sneak attack of kisses that caused her to laugh and her blood to boil. 
“Alright, I yield,” he finally said one morning over breakfast. The children had been taken out to play before their daily lessons, giving their parents a moment to themselves.
“What do you mean?” Y/N wondered, not looking at him. She couldn’t look at him because was doing obscene things to his spoon. Well, not obscene. He was using it, but she saw his tongue and that was enough. 
“You are ignoring me.”
“No, I’m not,” Y/N said with a chuckle. “I am speaking to you right now.”
“But you are not looking at me,” he said. Y/N sighed and finally looked up, her eyebrows raised in defiance. Benedict narrowed his eyes. He pursed his lips and she looked away again. 
She heard the sound of his chair moving and the sound of his footsteps nearing her. She smelled him and her eyes almost rolled back into her head, but she stayed resolute. Until he placed a hand on her cheek and knelt beside her. “Are you alright?” he wondered, genuine concern in his voice.
Y/N swallowed harshly and nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. Not with the image of him on his knees. 
“Are you sure?” he wondered. He leaned in closer and Y/N immediately jerked back. He let out a huff of laughter. “My love, what is going on? Is it...are you feeling a fit come on?”
Y/N bit back a groan at the term of endearment. After all those years, it never failed to send a shiver down her spine. She felt like the young woman that read that first letter in the observatory. The woman with shaking hands who had never been kissed. And there she sat, knowing her husband intimately. Knowing him in every way. And wanting him in every way. 
“I am fine,” she reassured him as she got to her feet. Benedict furrowed his brow as she left the room. Fled, more like. He started after her, taking wide steps to catch up with her.
He called after her, but she ignored him. She turned the corner and ducked into one of the drawing rooms, closing the door behind her. Benedict jolted back at the sound. “Y/N, what is going on?” he wondered. He pulled the door open in time to see the one on the other side of the room close. “What the devil…?” he said under his breath. It was like some strange game of hide and seek. He loved his wife. She was strange, but he loved her. This, however, was one of the strangest things he had ever seen. “Y/N!” he called out, hearing doors open and close throughout the hallway. 
“Seriously?” he wondered in a huff as he saw her turn another corner. 
But finally, she reached a hall with no exit. “What is going on?” he wondered, arms stretched out in confusion. 
Y/N held out a hand. “Do not come any closer.”
Benedict jerked his head back. “What is it? Have I done something wrong?”
“Yes!” Y/N shrieked.
“What?” he wondered, eyes wide in terror.
“You keep looking at me,” she groaned. 
“Alright…” Benedict said, even more confused then before.
“And you touch me and you are near me and you just…stop being you!”
“I do not understand,” he said, taking a step forward. Y/N stepped back until she met the wall. She looked to either side, already knowing the only way out was past him. She swallowed heavily as she looked at him, hair disheveled, sleeves rolled up, vest undone. She was absolutely and utterly done for. “Are you feeling alright?”
Y/N shook her head.
“Shall I call on the doctor?” 
“No!” she shouted. Then she backtracked. “It is not…I am not ill.”
“Then explain it to me.” He stepped closer.
“Stop,” she urged. 
Benedict held his hands out in surrender. “I am not going to hurt you—”
“I know that,” Y/N scoffed.
“Then why are you looking at me as though you are terrified?” he wondered, desperation in his voice. And that did not help at all.
“I…” she started, but she could not finish the words. She had no idea how to explain it really. 
“You?” Benedict urged.
“I…want you…” she said quietly. 
His head tilted with a laugh. “Alright? You have me.”
“No,” Y/N groaned. She pressed her hands to her eyes. “I’ve been…I am overcome,” she said with a gasp. “Every day, every night, I look at you and I want you…desperately.” Her voice was raspy and the way Benedict’s eyes darkened almost sent her to an early grave.
“I do not see the issue in that,” he smirked as he stepped closer. “In fact, I find it quite…manageable.”
“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head. He was so close now. She could smell him. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. He overtook all of her senses. “We agreed on three children. We have four. If you touch me, we will have five. And if we have five, we might as well have eight, which means we will have fifteen—” Benedict cut her off with a laugh that made her narrow her eyes.
His face softened. “Oh, my love…that’s not…We can avoid that, you know.”
“I do not want to,” she said through clenched teeth.
He was even more confused. Then he smirked and took another step forward. He pressed his nose to her neck and inhaled. Y/N couldn’t stop the whimper that fell past her lips. “What do you want, my love?” he whispered in her ear. 
“You.”
“You have me,” he said. “Always.”
Y/N licked her lips and moved her head back. “We said no more children.”
“Then we will not have any more children.”
“I want you inside of me.”
He choked and tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. He pressed his forehead to hers. “You cannot say things like that to me, my love.” He gripped her hips, relishing in the gasp that left her. “If you do, we will surely have another child on the way in a fortnight.”
“Ben,” she groaned. “Please.”
He pressed his lips to hers, taking away all of her anxieties. “We can avoid it,” he said as he pulled away. Y/N did not let him get far. He gripped his neck with one hand and urgently tugged at his vest with the other. He chuckled against her lips but ripped the vest off his body and threw it to the ground. 
He bunched up her skirts, finding her bare legs. He hitched one leg up as high as it could go and pressed her against the hall with his lips. 
“Fuck,” Y/N sighed. 
“Oh, we will.”
-----------------------
Taglist: @imdoingbetternow @dd122004dd @soulmates8 @aureolinb @poppyalice2001 @thatgirljas13 @sunnygrey99 @frogsandhomicidalducks @dreadity @psychomanias @muxshwriting @erinroney @theregencywriter @wobbly-fluggers @moonwayne @esposadomd @marvelspogue @avengersgirllorianna @bwormie @noirrose21-blog @themadhattersqueen @ziarah @esposadomd @thicficbich1 @luvaerina @smileofthesun27 @mythical-mushrooms13 @siimiasoi @wannapizzamymindposts @everavenclaw @kno-way-home @unfortunatekiwitrash @melsunshine @butterfly-skinnylegend @yunloyal @fanfiction-she-wrote @iamaslytherin0 @marvelouslyme96 @soundslikerains-blog @ilovespideyyy @isagivinny @eyesarefullofstars @beingalive1 @the-great-imagines-of-1812 @rayisthehoe @empressnatsume @hopefulatrocity @daddyissues-muah @boo8008 @pinkpantheris @yourmumstoy @jupitervenusearthmars @strawberrypink-jellybeans @crispysublimecupcake @galactict3a @dumdumsun
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itshelia · 3 months
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Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???
Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)
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ladysharmaa · 23 days
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My miracle
Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good
warnings: mentions of death
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“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”
“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”
Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.
His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 
“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”
“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”
“Like you are giving birth?”
“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 
“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.
She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”
“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”
"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.
It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."
But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.
"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"
"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.
"I'm not going anywhere!"
"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.
"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.
"Anthony..."
"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 
The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.
With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.
"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."
"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."
"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.
On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.
Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.
And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.
It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.
Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.
"You have a daughter, Anthony."
He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."
"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."
Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.
"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.
The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.
"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."
"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.
"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.
Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.
Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."
"She is beautiful."
"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 
He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.
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inpraizeof · 1 month
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not without him
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anthony bridgerton x reader
synopsis: you knew birth would be no easy feat, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without him
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you clutched onto the white bedsheets, they were drenched with blood, and you were writhing on the bed as the doctor shouted orders at the nurses.
one had a cloth to your forehead, dabbing away your sweat and your tears. you couldn’t stop crying, it was an unbearable pain, that only got worse as the night went on.
violet had tried to prepare you, coming to her for advice on how to birth a bridgerton child. she had her most difficult birth with hyacinth, and just hearing her story sent chills down your spine.
anthony had been away in london when you went into labor. you knew he shouldn’t have left aubrey hall so close to the end of your pregnancy, but being the viscount meant there were things that required him present. you had hoped that your child would have some decency and arrive after the father, but the urge to push only became greater.
you feared that anthony wouldn’t make it, he was supposed to be here an hour ago, having rushed from london upon hearing the news.
the nurse looked down at you, “you have to push, my lady.” her voice quivered, as if she could feel your emotion. you teared up more, “no please- we have to wait for the viscount.” you felt weak, and you faintly heard the doctor shout that you were losing blood.
the nurse looked down again, and seemed firm, “you have to push, there is no time to spare if we wait for the viscount.” she dabbed your forehead again, “you and this baby will die if you don’t push now.”
you cried harder, “i need him here. i can’t do it without him.” you were scared, frightened by all these unfamiliar people. yes they were there to help you give birth to your first child, but you didn’t care, it wasn’t your husband dabbing your forehead or encouraging you.
your vision went fuzzy around the edges and your head fell back into the mounds of pillows that held you up. you could still hear the door push open, shouts being echoed into the room and finally, “let me through-“ his voice.
you heard a clatter of gear hit the wooden floor and you felt relief as he rushed to your side. anthony, still cold with the winter air, brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheek. he saw how weak you looked, and could see the doctor’s expression.
“you can do it.” he whispered sweetly, “i’m here, you can do it.” he grabbed your hand, clutching it tightly and with his encouragement, you did the one thing you had been putting off.
the nurse over you seemed overjoyed that you were finally listening, there was fear among the doctor and staff that you would bleed out before anthony got there.
you grunted, weak from the blood loss. “push, my lady, push!” the nurse above you shouted, and you grunted loudly, doing as she said.
there was a brief moment of pause, relief that washed over you as you heard a newborn’s cry. you blinked away the sweat, feeling the damp cloth across your skin as you looked over at anthony, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. he was smiling brightly, but tears brimmed in his eyes, “you did it.” he whispered, “my lady….” he brushed the side of your face with a hand, and you closed your eyes, exhaustion washing over you.
you could see the light creeping through the curtains. it had been kept dark for you, candles burning just as you liked, even wearing your favorite nightgown. you could feel the pain, that ache that reminded you of what had happened.
you called out to your handmaid, watching as the door opened and instead, in stepped anthony holding the baby in his arms. your eyes softened, and you cooed, “my love.” you beckoned him to the bed, and anthony sat down carefully, the newborn in his arms was peacefully sleeping.
“good morning.” he kissed your forehead, “you have no idea how much i love you. i-“ he faltered, looking down at the baby to compose himself before he continued, “i almost lost you. please,” he looked at you, “please don’t ever scare me like that again. i beg you.” he whispered. he was happy at the birth of your son, but he wouldn’t have been if you had lost your life.
you looked at him, nodding. you didn’t want to say anything, instead looking down at the baby and resting your head on anthony’s shoulder, “have you thought of a name?” you noticed the baby’s fell head of hair and smirked, “looks like he got my hair.” you looked at the baby’s nose, “and your nose.” you laughed slightly, and anthony shrugged, “everyone says he looks like you more.”
his siblings must’ve arrived in from london. you smiled, but anthony knew what that smile was, “you must rest. the doctor said you lost a lot of blood, that you shouldn’t even think to lift a finger today.”
you sighed, “i won’t protest, i am feeling exhausted..” you didn’t know how to feel, your heart had never felt so much love all at once, “my boys.” you cooed, touching the baby’s hair as anthony kissed your forehead again.
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narcissisticmf · 10 months
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draw me | benedict bridgerton x fem!reader
description: you ask benedict to draw you, wearing almost nothing.
trigger warnings: nudity, sexual content, seductive behavior, oral sex, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18.
word count: 1.8k
You walked through the halls with servants of the Bridgerton family, standing outside the opened door to Benedict's study, where he was working behind a canvas.
"You have a caller, Mr. Bridgerton," Stated the servant, bowing his head. You walked into the room, in a silk dress, a silver chain was dangling beautifully around your neck. You stared at Benedict with a soft expression, eyes gentle and calm.
"Leave us," Benedict offered a generous grin to his servants as they left the room, latching the door shut behind them. You continued gazing at him, never turning away, not even once.
"Am I too early? I didn't realize you were already working on something else," You explained as he stared at you with the utmost loving gaze.
"No, not at all, please, have a seat," He gestured to the sofa beside you. "Can I get you a drink?" Benedict asked politely after you planted your bottom against the soft cushions.
"I'm quite well for now, thank you," You admitted.
"Shall we get started then?" He smiled. You nodded softly. "I'd like you to lay down, on your back," He instructed as you did as told, you followed every word that he spoke. Your stomach bubbled with ease and excitement.
Benedict stared at you for a little while, his fingers gripping his chin as his eyes squinted, scanning your body's position. He walked over to you with a gentle demeanor.
"Permission to touch you?" He asked as he looked at you, his gaze never broke from you.
You looked up to him and nodded softly, "Yes."
Benedict gently grasped your wrist and moved your arm to lay against the top of your head. He stepped back and examined your position, smiling.
"Benedict?" You called softly after he had turned around to head back to his canvas, that was propped up on an easel. He turned around with asked 'what' with his eyes, pupils blown out.
"Might I make a small suggestion?" You asked and he nodded. "Wouldn't the image be more raw if my form wasn't so.. cladded?"
Benedict did his best to fight the growing smile. He agreed to your suggestion, as long as you were alright and comfortable. He made sure that you were one hundred percent on board with it.
After confirming your wishes, you stood up from the sofa and lifted the dress from the bottom, over your head, tossing the silk material across the room, beside the windows. You removed all your undergarments, and soon became completely vulnerable. Your breasts laid naturally against your ribcage. Benedict admired you, his eyes traveling up and down your exposed body.
You laid back against the sofa and fixed yourself to be in the form which Benedict had you in moments ago. All that was against your skin was a silver chain. Your hair was down and curled, the way your servants did it the morning of.
Benedict did his best to fight the smile that was against his lips. You smiled softly, but soon it ceased, wanting to keep a serious expression for the final product of the piece.
"Does an artist often blush when drawing one of their subjects?" You grinned mischievously as Benedict let out a small giggle.
"Shh," He hushed you and continued painting away. He managed to get every curve, every beautiful detail amongst your body, matching your skintone perfectly. He even got the subtle glassiness in your eyes and the way the sunlight reflected against your body and about the room.
You were unsure if it was the temperature of the room or the fact that you were at your most vulnerable in front of a man, but your nipples hardened and Benedict took notice of this. He smirked, a lopsided one and stared at you for a moment, ceasing his motions of the paintbrush.
"Are you cold?" He questioned.
"Uhm, no, why?" You asked.
"'Tis my duty as the artist to make sure that my subject is comfortable and satisfied in all ways possible," He replied with a grin.
You smiled softly as you watched him continue to illustrate. He was so focused, looking to you and back at the canvas every few seconds.
.
Finishing the image, Benedict smiled and turned his easel around so that you could see it. Your lips curved into a grin as you saw how beautiful the painting was.
"It's beautiful, Benedict," You replied, still lying there, unclothed.
"Thank you, Miss. Y/N," He replied with a smug grin as he stared at you, admiring your body. "Will you.. uhm.. be getting back into your dress now?"
You stared at him for a moment, thinking. "If you wish it," You whispered.
"I certainly do not, but do you?" Benedict asked.
"No," You replied quickly. He smiled, his most famous lopsided grin. You slowly arose from the sofa and noticed how Benedict's eyes were glued to you. You walked towards him and noticed he was backing into the bookshelf behind him, pressing his hands against it, for leverage.
"Permission to touch you, Miss. Y/L/N?" He breathed out, almost desperate.
You leaned forward to whisper into his ear, "Yes."
Benedict hastily wrapped his arms lowly around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. You cupped his face and molded your lips with his perfectly. He tasted of brandy and mint. His hands moved down your bare back and towards your bum, gripping your cheeks softly. You released a whimper against his mouth as you pulled back, resting your chin to his shoulder. Your lips parted, to allow soft whines and moans to escape. Benedict moved his lips down your neck and across your shoulder, burying his face into your skin.
He slowly stepped forward, guiding you to the sofa you'd be lying on while Benedict was painting. You sat against it while he begun to remove his coat, tossing it beside your silk dress. You stared at him, eyeing his body up and down. He smirked and removed his suspenders, then his blouse overhead, tossing it to the side. He unzipped the side of his pants and kicked them off effortlessly. Soon, he was left is absolutely nothing.
The sun was setting outside, creating a beautiful reflection of light against Benedict's skin. You smiled as he walked towards the couch, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You kissed him back and gripped his biceps, pushing him to sit beside you. You wasted no time and straddled his waist, draping your arms around his neck, molding your lips perfectly against his.
You'd forgotten about everything; the servants just outside the door, the painting, the fact that your actions were so scandalous that both your life and Benedict's could be ruined if anyone found out. You were focused on him and only him, it was tranquil and comfortable. You felt safer than you had in a long time.
Benedict's hands were holding your sides, slowly dragging his fingers to your back, tracing your skin lightly. You moved your hips with his softly, making him groan quietly into your mouth.
Without taking his lips from yours, he pushed your to lay against your back, so that he was on top of you. You pressed your fingers against his face, engrossed in the taste of him.
Benedict pulled back to admire your body a little long. He noticed how hardened your nipples had become. He lowered his head, without breaking eye contact and placed his lips around your left breast, sucking on your nipple. You whimpered, leaning your head back as the arousal begun to stick to your inner thighs. His eyes were on you the entire time. He moved from your left to your right, repeating the same actions.
You leaned your head back against the cushions, releasing moans that were soon suppressed by Benedict's palm. You closed your eyes and used on hand to push through his hair, gripping it softly.
He dragged his wet lips down your stomach, around your navel and towards your heat. You released a shaky breath as his breath fanned against you. You slowly spread your legs to make it easier access for him. He slipped one finger into your mouth, making you blink in surprise.
"Suck on it. We don't want any unwanted ears hearing us, do we?" Benedict stated as he looked up to you, only raising his eyes. You nodded and begun to suck on his finger, hoping it would be enough to keep you quiet.
He pressed his mouth against your private, using his tongue to toy with your folds. It took a lot for you to keep quiet, but luckily his finger was doing the trick. You closed your eyes as let the feeling consume you. You wrapped your legs around Benedict's shoulders as he moved his lips and tongue against your strings.
Despite his finger keeping you silenced, there was still a beautiful melody within your whines that escaped into the atmosphere.
After a little while, Benedict arose and removed his finger from your mouth, using it to softly graze across your folds. You bit your tongue, having no desire for anyone to hear, but there was adrenaline in that, in knowing you could be caught or heard.
Benedict was on top of you, yet again and held your side with one hand, pressing his lips against yours. You hummed at the taste of your own heat, finding it sweet yet savory at the same time.
You felt Benedict slip effortlessly inside of you. You gasped into his mouth, feeling so many ecstasies all at once. He moved his hips to and fro, feeling how loose you'd been. The comfort in him and his actions was unlike anything you'd ever felt before or experienced.
"Benedict.." You moaned into his mouth as he continued his motions. He was a moaning mess as well, perhaps that was why he was kissing you the whole time.
"You feel absolutely wonderful, Y/N," Benedict whispered through a broken moan.
You had locked eyes with him, as the two of you became close to undoing. You felt your stomach unravel all the knots, reaching your climax. Benedict swiftly pulled out of you, releasing his sticky load against your stomach.
You were both out of breath as he smiled down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He reached onto the ground to grab a cloth, gently wiping his essence off of you. He was sure to be careful, knowing that you must've been sensitive.
"That was perfect," You whispered, taking notice that the sun was already set and the moon was the only think illuminating the darkness of night.
Benedict smiled, chuckling lightly as he pressed a warm kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Perhaps, we should do this again sometime."
Smiling, you nodded.
.
a/n: hi, cuties!! so i just started watching bridgerton and i absolutely LOVE benedict! he's the sweetest character that i think i've ever seen and couldn't wait to write something for him! i'm sorry i haven't been posting much, work has been really crazy as well as my mental health. i hope you're all doing good! thank you so much for reading! — angelina. <33
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