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pinchofhoney · 2 months

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perfectly flawed

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: hurt without comfort, it might be suggestive but there's nothing inappropriate about it (friends with benefits but without any details)

summary: Finding love as a princess comes with its challenges, but becoming a mistress was never part of the plan.

a/n: two things; one, over these few months i forgot what it's like to write something that isn't an academic paper. two, in the process of writing it i forgot that i was supposed to write it based on a song. i suppose i'm already a different person than i was just the week ago when i asked you for your opinion, but regardless, feel welcome to read this,, thing<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

London, 18th April 1814

Dearest Readers,

The Season has barely begun, yet the glittering ballrooms of London are already abuzz with whispers and speculation. The cause of this fervour? None other than the captivating niece of Her Majesty. The fairy-like young lady, whose arrival in London coincided with the Season’s beginning, has ignited a flurry of theories.

Is she a princess, a countess, or perhaps a secret agent on a mission? The whispers echo through the salons, each speculation more imaginative than the last. Her regal bearing and the way she holds her fan hint at noble lineage, but her eyes hold secrets that defy easy classification. Could she be a pawn in a political game, or does her purpose lie closer to matters of the heart? Suitors line up, eager to claim her hand, but our debutante remains an unknown figure, casting doubt upon the intentions behind her smile.

Gentlemen of distinction have flocked to her side, vying for her attention. Lord Pembroke, the dashing heir to a vast estate, has been seen trailing her like a devoted puppy. The Duke of Ashford, brooding and aloof, has deigned to engage her in conversation. And then there is Captain Sinclair, whose sea-green eyes promise both danger and adventure.

At Lady Featherington's soirée, our young lady engaged in spirited conversation with none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Their conversation delved into matters of politics—a most unconventional choice. Is our French princess a revolutionary sympathizer, or does she simply relish the thrill of intellectual sparring?

Rest assured, dear readers, that Lady Whistledown shall be your faithful guide through the twists and turns of this unfolding narrative. Prepare your fans and polish your silver spoons, for the London Season has just begun, and in the shadow of the Queen's niece, our world is poised to be turned upside down. Society must brace itself for a whirlwind of speculation, as we stand on the brink of a most intriguing chapter.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

‎

At the very core of the French Empire, you were raised as the epitome of grace and subtlety. With royal blood coursing through your veins, you were groomed to be the perfect lady, the jewel of the imperial court. Every step you took, every word you said, was a careful composition, painting the portrait of an eminent lineage.

From a young age, you were taught the art of etiquette, your days filled with lessons on poise, embroidery, and the subtle language of the fan. Your attire, always impeccable, was the evidence of your status and breeding. The world perceived you as the embodiment of perfection, a delicate blossom requiring protection from the harsh realities beyond the palace walls.

Yet, behind the facade of the devoted princess, a secreted truth blossomed. Beneath the tangled layers of silk and lace, your spirit, unyielding and untamed, stood in defiance of the expectations of courtly life. The allure of royal grandeur held little sway over you, and the burden of societal obligations felt like a daily donning of a suffocating corset.

The shimmering balls and elaborate rituals became stifling, making your heart to ache for those fleeting moments of genuine connection, uncontrolled laughter, and a subtle taste of the forbidden. Although French suitors eagerly fought for your attention and the allure of your family's wealth, your soul yearned for a partner who would daringly challenge the scripted norms, infusing romance with a breath of spontaneous authenticity.

And thus, to address your reluctance to accept the prearranged path, your mother came up with a plan. Sending you to the splendour of London under the watchful eye of the Queen, your beloved aunt, she hoped this change of scenery would guide you towards a dutiful marriage, in line with the expectations befitting your royal lineage. What slipped out of her seemingly perfect idea, however, was the playful nature of fate, particularly when guided by those who avoid predictability. So, your journey to the bustling heart of British metropolis grew with an outcome greatly different from your mother's expectations.

Your aunt, holding the most esteemed position in the United Kingdom, was admired for her wisdom and understanding. But the hours of lessons imparted to you from an early age, combined with your ability to conceal your rebellious nature from the public eye, had transformed you into a pretty great actress. And your performance, crafted over the years, was so convincing that even someone as sharp as the Queen herself failed to see through the carefully constructed act.

But perhaps, this time, you've got too close to the edge, because in the blink of an eye, you found yourself entangled in a situation that, if exposed, would not only scandalize all of England but also cast a shadow over France, where your family hopefully awaited news of your impending marriage.

And how did it all start?

The beginning of your tale remains in the memories of that fateful debutante ball, where a single innocent look changed the course of your luck. It was a brief moment, a shared exchange of glimpse between you and Benedict Bridgerton, that seemed to stretch time itself. In the glimmer of that ballroom, his bright eyes locked onto yours from across the room, and the world around you seemed to slow, as if giving space for something beyond a mere glance.

You had no idea what captivated you about the man who didn't really stand out among the other attendees, but most likely it was this quiet strength of his gaze. The gaze without the typical fascination you'd grown used to as a princess of the French Empire or the usual envy that flickered in the eyes of those desperate to secure a partner who determined their life's worth. Benedict's gaze was just different. It held no trace of the thought that you were merely a silly princess with a title. It carried the feeling that you were a masterpiece, a creation worthy of admiration. And it stirred a yearning within you, an insatiable thirst for freedom and authenticity that your heart had craved for so long.

A brief exchange of words with Benedict at the ball opened your eyes, making you believe that not every man who sought your company was doing so only for your family's wealth. As you danced together, his touch ignited a spark, a fleeting moment of intimacy that lingered long after the music faded into the night, and each stolen glance exchanged across the crowded ballroom carried the weight of unspoken desires. It felt as though the connection that binds soulmates was about to disappear when your paths crossed, signalling that you had, finally, found one another.

And so, it began. A secret affair that grew under the cloak of darkness, far from the prying eyes of nosy socialites waiting to catch a glimpse of scandal. In the hidden corners of London, where shadows whispered secrets and the night sky painted a canvas of stars, you found comfort in the arms of Benedict, a man not necessarily burdened by the weight of societal expectations, yet bound by his own hesitation to commit to anything beyond the present moment.

As the inappropriate meetings became routine, you assumed the role of a mistress, a position you never imagined yourself in, and the only rule you committed to follow during your secret dates was the lack of romantic feelings. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of emotional distance, your heart had a way of defying logic. With each stolen moment spent in Benedict's company, you found yourself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of emotions, a labyrinth fraught with longing and desire. What started as a simple agreement, devoid of romantic sentiments, soon evolved into something far more sincere.

And it genuinely scared you.

You walked nervously around the place of your every rendezvous with Benedict, your fingers nervously picking the cuticles near your nail—a gesture unsuitable for the lady you were expected to be. But in the fuss of events that have happened in London so far, such a thing seemed a minor violation. Not only did the task of slipping unnoticed from the royal palace grew increasingly difficult, but the relentless fluttering in your heart at the mere thought of Bridgerton haunted your sleepless nights.

Throughout your life, you had yearned for a love different from the one you had observed in French society. And now, when the opportunity to live your fairy tale presented itself, reality proved to be just an unrequited feeling. While you were happy to see Benedict and yearned for his presence, it seemed he may only crave your body, not the depths of your soul.

You wanted today's meeting to be the last one, a meeting where nothing would happen. Or so you convinced yourself. The purpose was clear: to say goodbye to Benedict and to draw the curtain on a relationship built on fleeting glances and secret meetings. And even though probably the best choice would have been to just stop showing up on these encounters and withdrawing from public spaces where you might cross paths, you didn't want to just pretend that nothing had ever happened between you two. The social season was still around you, and avoiding the consequences of your actions would only complicate everything. Maybe not for Benedict, but for you, for sure.

And then, the silence broken every second by your anxious heartbeat was completely shattered by the sound of footsteps. Turning, you were met with the sight of Benedict Bridgerton approaching with firm strides, and his presence seemed to overshadow your plans to say goodbye when, for a moment, the world seemed to pause as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and his touch sent pleasant shivers down your spine. The warmth of his embrace, coupled with the subtle brush of his breath against your skin, stirred conflicting emotions within you. Your heart quickened its pace, betraying the reason you came for this final meeting.

“I've been thinking about you all day,” Benedict whispered, and his breath caressed your delicate skin. But as much as the desire for intimacy flickered within, you held steadfast to the resolution you had set for this meeting.

With a gentle pull, you extricated yourself from his embrace, creating a safe distance between the two of you. The tingling sensation stayed on your skin, as a remaining echo of his touch that resonated through every fibre of your being. “We need to talk,” you said, your voice steadier than your racing heart. Benedict's eyes, once filled with a yearning, now searched yours for an answer to an as yet unspoken question.

“Talk?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of playful intrigue as he arched one of his eyebrows with his signature smile dancing upon his lips. “About what?” he pressed, and with an air of casual confidence, he crossed his arms over his chest as he ambled a few steps to the side. “You're not going to tell me you've fallen in love, are you, princess?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from within, escaping between your lips before you could hold it back. In an attempt to mirror Benedict's movements, you crossed your arms over your chest, your head shaking with feigned amusement. “Fall in love?” you repeated his words, adopting a tone of playful dismissal. “Don't be ridiculous, of course not,” you declared, adding a scoff at the end, as if to fortify the illusion of light-hearted banter. Hoping to shield your true feelings, now concealed beneath a facade of amusement, you met Benedict's gaze with a look of mock disbelief.

“We should end this relationship,” the words spilled from your lips, hoping your voice wouldn't betray how fast your heart was beating at that moment. “I did not come to London to become just another woman in the arms of the Viscount's son. If my mother were to find out, she'd blame herself for raising me poorly, and that's not the truth,” you began to rationalize, your words flowing as an attempt to justify the decision you had set before both of you. “I have obligations to fulfil, a path to follow, and I won't achieve that by sleeping with you.”

Benedict watched you in silence, not knowing if you were serious. His gaze bore into you, seeking answers within the depths of your eyes.

“Now you're the one being ridiculous,” he retorted, his tone carrying a gentle scolding. Leaning against a nearby counter, he looked at you with a combination of disbelief. “Since when have you cared so deeply about living up to your mother's expectations?”

“I've come to understand that my mother wants what she believes is best for me. As a princess of the French Empire, there are certain expectations I must meet, whether I appreciate them or not,” you said, closing the physical distance between yourself and Benedict. Self-control was what kept your hands from reaching out as you stopped just in front of him. “Think about what would happen if our secret were to be exposed. It would be the end for both of us, and the scandal would echo across the entire continent. The Queen herself would likely seek our demise.” You emphasized your words by pointing a finger at yourself. “I cannot ruin the honour of the entire royal family for a fleeting moment of pleasure.”

Benedict met your gaze with a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words, yet beneath the veneer of understanding, a flicker of defiance danced in his eyes. “So, what are you saying? You're suddenly prepared to sacrifice your entire life for the expectations of your family that would see you married and bearing children with some man who would likely make you miserable?” he asked, a trace of frustration evident in his voice.

A moment of silence ensued as you fixed your gaze on Benedict. Finally, a disbelieving scoff escaped your lips, and you shook your head. Taking a few steps away, you placed your hands on your hips, a gesture mirroring the internal conflict within you. “Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, Benedict, but I am a woman. And in a world dictated by the whims of men, the role assigned to women is often reduced to that of an obedient wife, tasked with bringing some affluent man's heir into the world. It's not about what I want; it's about what everyone else around me expects.”

As Benedict made a move to step closer, a surge of urgency propelled you to speak before he could interject. “I should be going now. The palace servants are growing increasingly suspicious.”

Despite the assertiveness in your tone, Benedict, keen to the nuances of unspoken emotions, closed the physical gap between you, and his touch went through the delicate fabric of your glove as he gently took your hand. “We can at least end this in a better way,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a suggestive undertone as he met your gaze.

A resolute “No” escaped your lips, infused with an overt firmness born out of the fear that another moment in his gaze might make you give in to your heart's desires. You couldn't afford the risk of surrendering to the tempting pull of his lips once again, the very lips you yearned for. “That's all I wanted to tell you today,” you continued, gently squeezing his hand as if to punctuate your resolve. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you added, “It's over, but know that every meeting with you has been a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton. Goodbye.” Articulated so, you withdrew your hand from Benedict's grasp, leaving only the delicate glove in his hold.

With a swift spin, you turned away and your hurried footsteps carrying you out into the rain-soaked streets of London. A quick glance confirmed the absence of prying eyes, making you hasten your pace, putting distance between yourself and the building that housed your shattered heart. As you took each step, the words exchanged at that moment of parting reverberated in your mind. The relation between you and Benedict had ignited sparks of passion and left a sweet ache of longing. Now, the path ahead led you towards the marriage your family desired, a hopeful step to fill the void left by thoughts of Bridgerton.

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that-bisexual · 2 months

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Nex Benedict

Can I get serious and bring up Nex Benedict? A 16-year-old nonbinary student at Owasso High School in Oklahoma. Died on February 8th 2024. No...murdered on February 8th 2024. The police have not confirmed it, but all signs lead to it. Nex got into a fight in the bathroom. They and their transgender friend had been jumped by three other students and badly beaten. Nex had been bullied constantly for being nonbinary, but their mother told them to keep their head high. However, she didn't know how fatal the situation really was.

Oklahoma passed a bill a while before the crime that required public school students to use whatever bathroom matched their assigned gender at birth. Because of this, Nex had to use the girl's bathroom at school. Could this have been the reason they were jumped? Had this bill not been signed, would they still be with us? This only proves the horrible state of transgender teens rights and what a twisted society we live in.

According to Nex and their transgender friend, whose name was not given, when they went in the bathroom, they were being bullied by three older girls. As they tried to stand up for themselves, violence broke out. By the time Nex came out of the bathroom, they had scratches on the back of their head, bruises covering their eyes and face, and a large lump on their head. After Nex died, their mother said they told her they had been shoved to the floor and had hit their head. All of the injuries were inflicted by the three girls. Despite Nex being severely assaulted and on the brink of unconsciousness, the school refused to call an ambulance or the police. Instead, they gave them a two-week suspension. The reaction of the school staff is outrageous and disturbing, even if they hadn't died.

Later that day, Nex's mother took them to Bailey Medical Center to get treated and checked out. After a few hours, they were released from the medical center. Their mother said they had fallen asleep listening to music that night with a headache and sore face. When they woke up the next morning, they got ready to go to Tulsa for an appointment. As they were about to leave, they suddenly fell to the floor, seemingly unconscious. An ambulance was called immediately, and Owasso Fire Department medics hurried there. But when they arrived, Nex had already stopped breathing...after being taken to the emergency room, they were declared dead.

The police began investigating the fight, and an autopsy was issued. There had been little to no news until February 20th, when police stated that they were interviewing staff and students at Nex's school. The next day, an autopsy report said that Nex had not died from head trauma. Police say that they think their death was not related to their "physical altercation." Mr. and Mrs. Benedict spoke to a lawyer and decided to start a private investigation for themselves, which is still ongoing.

Even after this heartbreak event, people went into an uproar to protect this teenager's memory, and people started to investigate deeper. Some people have accused Chaya Raichik, who runs the 'Libs of Tiktok' page, of being one of the causes of Nex's death because of her ''hateful anti-trans posts'' that targeted public school teachers. One of Nex's favorite and most admired teachers resigned in 2022 after being targeted in one of these videos. Chaya Raichik said that she was "being falsely accused of murder." Although what she does is despicable and could have been the source of a lot of Nex's grief, there is little evidence linking Chaya to the death, and she cannot be blamed without further evidence.

One ray of light in this situation is the happiness Nex's parents brought them. Sue Benedict is their biological grandmother, but she had raised them since they were 2 months old. She legally became their mother a few years ago. She stated, “Nex saw themselves right down the middle. I was still learning about it, Nex was teaching me that.” Her husband Walter also commented to The Independent, "When you’re old school, you don’t always understand it.” While the death of Nex Benedict is a tragedy, it's good to know that after a school day of being bullied, Nex could go home to a loving family.

Nex will not be remembered for their death but for who they were as a person. They will be remembered for the love and devotion they gave their cat, Zeus. Or for the hard work they did to achieve straight A's. Maybe for their love of animals or how they always played Minecraft. Perhaps their family will think of them when they walk past the snack they always asked for at the store or their favorite childhood toy. It's these things that make us ourselves, not the hate of others. It's who we are as a person, all of the little things that make up me and you. This is what Nex deserves—not to be remembered as a tragedy but as a wonderful kid, and I think we should give them that.

Below are some pictures of Nex and links to additional sources. Stay safe everyone.

#lgbtq #lgbt #pride #queer #lgbt pride #trangender #trans rights #nonbinary #trans #nex benedict #stop trans hate #hate crime #homophobia #gay #lesbian

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vjolce · 1 year

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benedict brink

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

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Young at Heart: The Prince (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Rated: G, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed Word count: 1.6k

Masterpost

Summary: A bedtime story for the children takes an unexpected turn.

Author's Note: This beautiful idea came from none other than @angels17324 who knew exactly how Benedict would charm a lady under the guise of entertaining children. I had a lot of fun with this. 💙 Enjoy!

As punishment for their prank in the hallway, the boys were sent straight to bed after dinner and denied their usual bedtime story. They fussed and groaned as you tucked them into their small beds, closely arranged in parallel. Even though they had heeded your advice and insisted they were only following their uncle’s orders (much to Benedict’s horror, their parents’ chagrin, and everyone else’s amusement), they were being disciplined for failing to know better than to disturb the Viscount.

Thus, the following night they were clamoring for a story, bouncing in their beds until you agreed to act out one of their favorite tales. Neddy pointed you to a well-loved volume of fairy stories and you allowed the boys to push their beds together, the three of them snuggling amidst a fortress of blankets and pillows until they resembled a nest of blinking baby owls. The atmosphere was ripe for magic, with the light of a full moon bathing the room in soft shadows. Your mind was drawn to thoughts of a midnight ball and a shimmering evening of dreams come true. With a candle at your side, you settled into a chair opposite the eager faces and knew precisely which story to turn to.

The children listened with rapt attention as you relayed to them the sad origins of Ella, a kind heroine forced into a life of servitude by her wicked step family. They giggled as you adopted the whining inflection of the ugly stepsisters, and cheered as you described the array of woodland creatures who sang and danced to help Ella through her chores. Their mouths hung open as you described the transformation of a pumpkin into a carriage, mice into footmen, and rags into a sparkling gown. Performing all the characters’ voices and heightening all of the dramatic action, you led them through the story, feeling a growing sense of pride as their heads slowly began to droop and they burrowed deeper into their blankets. The shadows in the room had grown long and each boy was fighting to keep his eyes open when you reached the final scene.

“From house to house went the Prince. One young woman after another tried to put her foot into the glass slipper, but none could fit. And so the Prince moved on. At last, he came to Cinderella’s house. The first step-sister tried to place her foot in the glass slipper. She tried with all her might, but it simply would not fit. The second step-sister tried to place it on her foot but failed too. ‘Are there no other young women in the house?’ asked the Prince. That is when Cinderella stepped into the room.”

You reverted to the shrill rasp you had devised for the evil stepmother, “‘None who matter!’ hissed the stepmother.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Startled, you nearly dropped the book as you spun to see the source of the unexpected voice from the doorway. The tall figure stepped forward and the moonlit illuminated Benedict, walking toward you with a playful smirk on his face.

As you sat frozen in confusion, he began narrating the story for you. “‘Come here,’ said the Prince, and Cinderella moved to him, sitting in a chair.” He reached your side. Even with the dark and his height, you could see the cheeky points of light in his eyes. You cast a look back at the boys to find their interest mildly piqued by the appearance of their uncle, but they were undeniably hovering on the brink of sleep, reclining back on their pillows.

“The Prince got down on one knee,” Benedict continued, his tone steady. You held your breath as he knelt to a knee beside you. He was playing the part, acting out the roles as you had.

“And he tried the glass slipper on her foot.” He raised his brow in a gentle request for permission, which you granted him with a breathless nod. Lifting your skirt just an inch, his long fingers wrapped around your ankle and he held it lightly, miming slipping a shoe over the one you already wore. He beamed up at you with that lopsided grin that made you feel knotted inside. “It fit perfectly.”

When you realized the silence between you was growing unnaturally, perhaps inappropriately long, you cleared your throat, remembering yourself. You glanced quickly down at the book in your hands. “Then, from her pocket, Cinderella took out the other glass slipper.”

Benedict never broke your gaze, his hand still warm on your ankle. “‘I knew it,’ he cried. ‘You are the one.’”

He was quiet enough that you weren’t sure if the children could hear him. But you also found that you were no longer concerned about the quality of your performance. All your mind could process was the tethering feeling of his soft grip, and the dance of light in his eyes which refused to leave yours.

Some rote part of your memory continued through with the story, though you ceased any attempt to adopt voices. “‘This cannot be!’ yelled the stepmother.”

Still grinning, Benedict concluded the tale. “But it was too late. The Prince knew that Cinderella was the one. He looked into her eyes, and he did not see the cinders in her hair or the ashes on her face. He had found the woman he loved, and they lived happily ever after.”

The silence that followed was so complete, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His smile, his eyes, the ease infusing everything about him, it held you under a spell. Thank goodness for Barney’s small but dramatic yawn which snapped both of your attention back to the children. Benedict carefully placed your foot on the floor. The boys were all fast asleep, limbs sprawled over one another and blankets kicked aside. With a chuckle between you, Benedict held the candle overhead while you gingerly rearranged the children as best you could without waking them, tucking them each beneath their own blanket.

When you were satisfied that they would sleep undisturbed, you led Benedict back out into the hall.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you whispered, unsure of precisely what to say. “Thank you for your help with the story. Were you listening the whole time?” You felt yourself start to blush and hoped the dim light would hide it.

“Long enough,” he shrugged. “You have been untruthful with me.”

Bewildered, you shook your head. “I beg your pardon?”

He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You said you weren’t an actress, but I just witnessed an exceptional performance.” His quirked brow and unfailing smile clued you in. There seemed to be no limit to this man’s cheekiness, or perhaps it was charm.

You chose to demure. You already felt odd enough, flustered by the lingering memory of his fingers pressing through your stocking. You would be friendly, but not engage in blatant flirtation. “It’s easy once the story is already written,” you explained. “I’m sure someone read to you like that when you were small.”

He softened. “My father did, yes. Once upon a time.” His smile broadened, coaxing one from you.

“He must have made quite an impression for you to memorize the story. I’d wager not many gentlemen could recite Cinderella if called upon.”

His smirk finally faltered. “I memorized it later. I read it constantly to my sisters when…well, when he passed. From that very book as a matter of fact.”

You bit your tongue. You didn’t know the precise details of the Bridgerton family history, but knew that the former Viscount had died too young and that Neddy was his namesake. To imagine he had left behind children still young enough to need bedtime stories, and to picture Benedict tending to them while managing his own grief, it seized something in your heart. You were ashamed at bringing up such memories and turned your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” The kindness in his tone drew your gaze back up to find him grinning thoughtfully. “Look how useful it is now that the house is full of children again.” Then he squared himself in front of you. “And now that I have found my stage partner, I believe we shall have to combine our theatrical prowess if we’re to keep those miscreants occupied tomorrow. A repeat performance at the puppet theater.”

Your heart climbed into your throat. His proposal made you equal parts terrified and excited. You had never ventured behind the nursery’s puppet theater yourself, but couldn’t deny how appealing it sounded to find yourself crowded into the tight space with him. You tried to keep your voice steady. You shouldn’t be imagining such things. “Mr. Bridgerton. I told you, I cannot improvise.”

He shrugged again, always airy with his demeanor. “Then we shall plan the story ahead of time. What is your schedule for the day?”

“Their parents are taking them to the lake actually, and then they will be mine in the afternoon.” You didn’t have much of an excuse to give him. In fact, some extra hands to help you entertain the children would be a welcome relief.

He was glowing, creases etched around his eyes from his easy smile. “Perfect. We’ll rehearse and then surprise them.”

You arched a brow. “But if I’m in the theater, who will be minding the children?”

“Colin,” he said dismissively. “It’ll give him something useful to do.”

You wavered, chewing on your lip. There was no reason to refuse his plan other than the fluttering feeling he elicited every time he looked in your direction and your fear of enabling it. He clearly sensed your hesitation and dropped his swaggering stance, gently offering you the choice. “Only if you want to, Miss y/l/n. Perhaps it would be nice to break up your routine.”

You probably should have declined, but your heart spurred on your tongue before your mind could interfere. “Alright. I’ll meet you in the nursery after tea.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @desert-fern @fiction-is-life @kpopstanthot

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #cinderella #female reader #fluff #regency era

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Innocence Pt III

Innocence series masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict teaches his intended how to pleasure themselves. Third in the Innocence series.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, sex education, self-pleasure, masturbation, frottage.

Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: Here is the third in the Innocence series. This turned out a lot more romantic than I was expecting 🤷‍♀️. Thanks to @makaylan for the beta read. I hope you all enjoy <3

It's six days until your wedding, and you are distracted. Not by the hive of wedding prep activity your family home has become since the engagement. No, it's the fact that it's been four days since you saw your intended, and quite frankly, that is too long. You ache to see him. Physically. Now that you have experienced some of what happens between a husband and a wife… well, you are greedy, ravenous, in fact, for more.

You are laying on your bed well after midnight, not sleeping, just staring at the ceiling and thinking about him, when you hear a sound that makes your heart leap. It's a tap on the glass of your balcony door. There is only one person who it could be.

Instantly you leap out of bed, fling aside the drapes, and wrench open the doors to that handsome smiling face.

“Benedict!” you exclaim happily, launching yourself bodily onto him, twining your legs around his hips, your nightgown riding up high on your thighs as you do so. Your arms wrap around his neck tight, burying your face into his hair.

“Hello,” he chuckles, taking your weight with ease, “did you miss me, darling?”

“I’ve scarcely thought of anything but you,” you confess breathily, enjoying the feel of his hands rounding your bottom, pulling you snugly against his body.

He walks you into the room, and you feel his muscles flex around you. “And me of you, my love. I couldn't wait any longer to see you,” he assures, his words tickling against your ear.

His lips find yours, and once against its fireworks in your chest, as he teases your mouth expertly. His kiss is all-encompassing and yet also a promise of more. He parts your lips, angles his head to capture your taste, and gently parries his tongue with yours.

When he pulls away, lips wet with your joint saliva, he looks down at your mouth and tips his forehead against yours. “I love the look on your face after I kiss you, so full of wonder and so aroused,” he confesses, his eyes growing darker as he gently places you back on your feet.

“I love it even more when you are on the brink of coming apart,” he whispers thickly, hands still on your bottom, walking you backwards but not towards the bed this time. It's towards your dressing area. “I need to see that expression again.”

He spins you in his arms, so you walk forward, his warm tall body pressed against your back. The warmth of his hands seeps through the thin cotton of your nightgown as he guides you towards the corner of the room. You are momentarily confused until he stops you a foot or so in front of your full-length mirror.

He catches your eye in the reflection and smirks, slowly tilting his head down until his lips land on the sensitive skin of your neck. Gasping as he sucks softly on your pulse point, you watch in the mirror as the hands on your hips slide off and grab your hands, enveloping them and bringing them onto your belly.

“That's right, watch darling,” he rumbles, the tone vibrating down the column of your neck and buzzing in your clavicle.

He guides your hands up over your stomach and ribs to your breasts.

“Tonight, my love, I am going to teach you how to bring pleasure to yourself,” he explains sonorously, his breath hot on your ear, his gaze still holding yours in the mirror. “And I want you to see every part of your body, see the wonderful things I get to see when I am between your legs.”

“But I only want you to bring me pleasure,” you argue breathily as he takes your fingers and pinches them around your nipples through the thin material. Your breath catches at the sensation.

He chuckles. “But what if I am away touring with my artwork? Surely you do not want to wait for my return to experience pleasure?” he rumbles.

“Can I not travel with you?” you inquire, twisting your head to kiss his stubbly jaw.

“At first, yes, but once we have children, you may want to stay home with them. Or there may be times you want to experience pleasure without me,” he argues. “Or perhaps I just want to watch you pleasure yourself. Like right now, I find the idea so very stimulating,” he adds sinfully, his voice a low tease as once again he teeths your neck.

“Watch as you touch yourself,” he commands, his hands moving from over yours as you continue to play with your nipples through your nightgown.

His long dextrous fingers pluck at the string cinching your nightgown closed, and when the knot relents, your gown gapes open, and he tugs the material until it is wide enough to pull down over your shoulders. Instinctually you pause your ministrations to allow him to push the gown off you, and it crumples to a circle on the floor around your feet.

The noise he makes as your naked body is exposed to him is something you will never tire of. A wanting, longing noise that’s a shortcut right to your core. You watch in the mirror as his mouth dips to delicately bite your shoulder, his hands over yours again, guiding them back to your breasts.

“Keep touching yourself, my darling,” he orders softly, but you whine quietly as the heat of his body is gone from your back as he moves away.

You watch in the mirror as he crosses the room to grab your wingback reading chair and picks it up effortlessly, gliding it behind you. He sits down in the chair directly behind you; all you can see in the mirror are his legs on either side of yours, the leather of his knee-high boots rubbing the outside of your calf muscles. Large hands grab the globes of your bottom, then slide around your hips and pull you down onto his lap sharply.

He encourages you to lean back against his body, his body warmth seeping through his shirt along your spine. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and he smiles crookedly in the mirror.

“Put your legs on either side of mine,” he tutors calmly.

You do as asked, watching your feet dangle on either side of his boots. Suddenly he splays his legs wide, forcing yours apart too, you sliding back in his lap until your bottom is resting against his crotch, his arousal nestled hot and hard between your cheeks.

“Benedict,” you gasp, tilting your hips slightly to drag against it, knowing intimately now what is hiding under the fabric, somehow making it more illicit. The strong urge to wrap your lips around his cock makes your lips tingle. “Can I get on my knees for you, husband?”

He makes a feral noise against your flesh, and in the mirror, you see your whole body flex in response, distilling into a sudden searing spike of want between your legs.

“As tempting as that sounds, not tonight, fiancee,” he insists, his large hands quelling the gyration of your hips before sliding down to spider over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. “Look at yourself in the mirror, darling, between your legs.”

Your gaze tracks there; indeed, it's a view of yourself that you've never seen before. Like him, there is a patch of hair at the apex of your thighs that you are already familiar with, but things look entirely different below it.

“Have you ever seen yourself like this, my love?” his voice is low and smooth like honey, short fingernails trailing swirling patterns on your inside thighs that are almost ticklish, setting your skin on fire.

“No,” you admit in a whisper.

“It's beautiful, isn't it? Like a delicate little flower with all its petals closed.”

Your brow knits slightly, not entirely agreeing with his assessment but appreciating the enthusiasm he has for your body.

“Put your fingers in your mouth, get them wet,” he lectures, giving a smirk and wink as you instantly do as asked. “Wonderful. Now, bring your hand down between your legs.”

One hand grasps your wrist as you do so.

“Now, do you remember when I had my tongue on you, and I told you the feelings you can get from it?” he asks gently.

“Yes,” you respond, your heart rate spiking as he lowers your wettened fingers.

“Well, that little pleasure button, it's right… here” his finger presses around your pointer and middle fingers, curling them into a hook and presses them up and under the top of the navette-shaped skin folds.

You gasp heavily and feel your body bow upwards, away from him, at the stab of sensation you experience.

“That's it… you feel that, don't you?” Benedict’s voice is gravelly, and you feel him rock his cock against your tailbone.

“Yes… oh my god,” the words tumble from your lips as you settle back onto him, and he guides your fingers to rotate in a small clockwise circle.

“That's it,” he urges, his bass tone vibrating into your very being, “don't stop.”

It feels similar to when his fingers touched you days ago as you straddled his lap, but this time you feel the soft flesh with a hard pearl against your own fingers, slipping against your damp skin. Your breath gets deeper as you feel your body light up and simmer with a hum of want as you continue to touch yourself, firmer as you get a feel for what your body wants most.

“You can pinch it if you wish, my love,” he directs, “play with your body, do whatever feels good, what makes you want to call out.”

You experiment, sliding the sides of your fingers and gently tugging on the nub, circling the other way, and tapping your finger onto it. All the while, he breathes heavily next to your ear, his hands splayed wide on your thighs, holding you so open. You can see his eyes trained on your movements in the joint reflection. His pupils are blown, a vein in his neck pulsing in relief, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

“What can I do for you, Benedict, my love?” you implore, desperately wanting him to experience the same mounting pleasure you are.

“You are doing everything I could want right now,” he guarantees, “Slide your fingers down, my love.”

You slip lower than your clit, and his fingers move to pull open the folds of skin to either side, making your breath laboured. He nods into the mirror.

“You see that little opening right at the bottom of these beautiful petals, my love?”

You nod.

“Slide your fingers in there. Gently” he instructs. “Do you remember you took three of my fingers and my tongue? I know it looks small, but it is a wonder and can take more than it appears, I promise. That is where my cock will go on our wedding night.”

You inhale sharply. “Are you sure it will fit Benedict?” you fret, staring in the mirror at the tight ring you see and remembering how girthy his cock was in your mouth and hands.

“I’m absolutely certain,” he asserts with a gentle noise, “now have a feel inside, my love.”

His gentle teaching has you hypnotised as you gradually slide your middle finger into the channel. The first thing that shocks you is the intense heat, then the spongy feel and the hot liquid moisture that oozes out around your fingers and dribbles down your bum cheek and onto his trousers.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, “I can feel that soaking into my thigh; you see how wet you are for me?” he preens, his voice cracking.

“Oh my god, it's so warm, hot even,” you blurt out, shocked.

“Yes darling, you are like a molten fire there; it makes me want to curl up and live between your legs,” he sighs, almost wistful, “it smells and tastes like heaven too. My darling, I would not mind a taste from your fingers.” The hint is blatant, and you see his eyebrows raise expectantly in the reflection.

You pull your finger out and use the mirror to guide your hand over your shoulder and to his waiting, eager mouth. His warm lips envelop your finger, all the way down below your knuckle, his tongue swirling lasciviously as he sucks the sticky slickness from the pad of your finger.

“Divine,” he opines on an exhale, letting your fingers fall from his mouth as you pant at the sensation.

His hands move from your folds to slide under the back of your knees and pulls them up, guiding your heels onto his kneecaps, your toes sliding into the front of his leather boots, his hands pressing your thighs out wide. You are obscenely open now, your core almost pushed out; the area looks flushed, swollen, and so wet.

“Now let’s make you come, shall we, my love?” he purrs. “Touch your little pearl again,” he suggests.

Your fingers slide back up and hook onto that spot, now slick with your own desire. It is more pronounced than before and almost pulses under your touch. You do as you did moments ago, trying new sensations, all under his watchful, lust-filled gaze. You feel yourself climbing an invisible ladder, each brush of your fingers more intense than the last.

“Now use your other hand at the same time, darling; put a finger or two inside yourself,” he commands, and you obey, moaning as you feel yourself clamp hard around your questing digit. Both hands are now between your legs, and the intensity of the experience grows fast and hard.

His expert fingers suddenly snag both of your nipples, and you cry out at the sudden spike of lust, almost a burning sensation.

“Benedict…” you moan loudly.

“Yessss,” he hisses, his cock pressed against you, “say my name, don't stop, you beautiful little wanton. My wife. I can't wait to be inside you, that beautiful cunt of yours clinging so tight to my cock.” He is on a roll now, sinful poetic words tumbling from his lips as his eyes bore into the reflection of your fingers moving so fast now against yourself. You are panting at every heady image he concocts, spiralling you higher and higher. “You feel like heaven; I never want to leave your body; you will be mine. Mine forever. Fuck I can't wait to marry you; we won't leave the bedroom for days, my darling. I will feed you dinner naked in bed, share a bath as we cleanse, drink champagne from your navel and eat fruit from your breasts. I want you to come so many times you want to die from pleasure. My wife, my life, I love you.”

It's the first time he has declared his love so fervently, and it is what tips you over the edge.

The shaking starts in your legs, and pulses of pleasure fan out from your core as you scream his name into the dewy skin of his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your core physically clenching open and shut, moisture spilling hard out of your channel as you writhe. Strong hands pin you down against his body as he rubs his rigid cock insistently into the cleft of your asscheeks. The friction of the wool abrades your skin, heightening and prolonging the blissful tide you are floating on; everything now languid and slow like molasses fills your bloodstream, blurring your thoughts and turning everything sweet and lush.

Dimly you are aware of his grunting noises and a patch of wetness seeping onto your pelvis as he finds his completion, frottaging himself against your body. As he pants hard, his warm breath skittering down your collarbone, you languidly reach back and curl your hand around his neck, feeling his pulse hammering there as you twist your neck and tilt your lips up towards his, being the one to initiate a kiss for the first time.

He softly snarls your name into your mouth as you massage his tongue with yours, feeling his body quiver with little aftershocks similar to yours.

“I love you too, Benedict,” you finally reply; it's a sigh against his lips.

He rests his forehead on yours as you respire the same air. “Six days,” he gulps, screwing his eyes shut. “Promise to touch yourself every one of those days we are apart.” he beseeches, his eyes reopening and blazing hard, staring you down with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I will, I promise,” you vow.

And you mean it. You fall apart every night under your fingers, your thoughts a blur of him. The next time you see him, it will be at your wedding—every fibre of your being longing for that day.

Taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton

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notsofunsenpai · 2 months

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Little feet scamper across the brown crosshatch tile floor. She ran up to a slightly opened door,pushing it open all the way . Climbing up her parents' bedside

"Dad!Dad! Pway time time!" She excited, said as her dad promised they would play tea party today if she ate all her veggies last night. Alastor had his eyes close,listening to his daughter,he wanted more shut eye because it was probably the brink of the morning,"Luci..You're daughter's awake." His voice husky,sounding irregular.

Lucifer was lying on Alastor's arm,snuggling him,drooling with a messy bed head. He lets out a small groan,not wanting to get up either,"Before sunrise, she's your daughter,Al."

"Twea party!" She excitedly said,practically jumping up and down on the bed,then slapping her tiny hands on Alastor's face, who opened his eyes finally and smiled at his daughter,"Good morning my child." He said, taking his arm back from Lucifer, who whined, but the red demon ignored him,wrapping his arms around his super hyper chid,"How about some breakfast first? I'll make your favorite cornbeef hash with egg on toast." Her taller father suggested.

"Yesth!!" Charlie beamed at her dad,making him smile sweetly at her.

"Can i have eggs benedict?" Lucifer asked softly.

"No. Make your own breakfast. Breakfast is only for those who actually are up. Though..." Alastor pretends to think as he cuddles his daughter who squeals with delight,"If you were to get Charlie ready for the day for the day, then maybe I'll consider it.hhmm sounds that sound?"

He watched his lover sit up slowly,hanging his head with his eyes closed,"You're so sneaky..." he mumbles as Alastor smile only grew.

"You're hungry, aren't you? I say it's a fair deal. You get Charlie ready while you're doing that. I'll make us all breakfast."

The blonde opens his eyes,taking a second before smiling,taking his daughter from Alastor,"Come onn, Char Char! Let's get you all ready!" He excitedly said,rocking her in his arms.

Charlie shakes her head,"Noo, play with daddd." She said,wanting to play with her father.

"Charlie,honey,i am your dad!" Lucifer pouts as his daughter shakes her head.

"You're mwama!" She said as Lucifer face turned slightly pink,hearin' Alastor chuckling.

"Welll, uhh, let's play with Mama then..." Lucifer shyly said,getting up from the bed,going to the door.

"Have fun, Mwama~." Alastor taunts lightly,his lover turn his head slightly to look him to only mouth to him to shut up. The two blondes left the room as Alastor got up,and he got his morning clothes on along with quickly brushing his short red hair and then putting it into a small ponytail. He goes into the kitchen to start making breakfast,whistling softly to himself,enjoying the peacefulne-

"AH! CHARLIE NO! DON'T DO THAT! "

Alastor hears his lover but keeps cooking,"Sounds like they are having fun. " he chuckles,"Good for them."

Lucifer had told Charlie to stay still for a second while he ran the bath water,making sure it was not too hot or cold.

While little Charlie's father was busy,she decided to play submarine, meaning she saw the toilet paper,taking it and putting it in the toilet,getting on her tippy toes, and pressing the handle.

Water was quickly filling up,Lucifer took notice of it immediately and was panicking,"AHH! CHARLIE NO! DON'T DO THAT!!". He quickly goes to the toilet, putting his hands to get the toliet paper out as quickly as he can while Charlie is going through the cabinets.

Lucifer turns his head,"Honey,no! Don't go inside of there! Get out of the cabinet!" He said desperately,finally getting the toilet unclogged,throwing it away in the nearby trash can. He quickly wipes his hands on his ducky pajamas.

Ew- he's gonna have to wash them later...

He picks up Charlie,"Come on, kiddo.lets, get you cleaned up." Sighing,taking the unplugged razor he uses for shaving out of her hands,placing it on the counter.

Moments later, Charlie is splashing around in the tub,playing with the rubber duck toys as Lucifer gets soaked in the process while trying to add the bubble bath.

"You're gonna be the death of me." Lucifer said, looking at all the water on the floor that he has to clean up along with himself.

He gets a rag,dipping it in the water before,ringing it out and cleaning Charlie's face, which she didn't like at all,splashing more water on him. He was quick with it before doing her ears next. She nearly bites him,thankfully, he moved his hand away in time,"Charlie, i know you're gonna hate me... but i gotta wash your hair."

"Nyooo!" Charlie splashes around as Lucifer is mentally screaming on the inside. He takes ahold of her gently,while the other hand gets the shower hose,turning it on and wetting her hair in which Charlie squirmed around some more,trying to get away from the scary snake.

Luckily for her poor father, her hair didn't take long to get wet,he put baby shampoo in her hair. He learned his lesson last time for using shampoo for adults. Let's just say there was a lot of screaming and crying while Alastor got pissed at him while he eased his daughter cries.

"Nooo! Scarryy!" Charlie cries.

"It's okay,it's okay, darling! I'm right here!." He massages the shampoo in her hair with his free hand before getting the hose to rinse her hair.

"It won't hurt,i promise! I would never want to hurt you." He reassures her,squeezing her hair before continuing rinsing it out. Tears start to fall down Charlie's eyes as her whimpers turn into cries. Lucifer had just finished rinsing her hair. He takes his crying child out,wrapping her in a warm towel,bouncing her in his arms while drying her off.

"It's okay,you're fine, see? That wasn't so bad ." He said, hugging her while her cries soften a little.

"Let's get you dried off, and you can see dada, okay?" He said, smiling softly at her.

She sniffs,nodding at him as he dries her off,putting clothes on her along with drying her hair, then brushing it. He also helped brush her teeth.

Alastor just finished making the food not too long ago,like five minutes ago.

Truth be told, he was gonna check up on his lovely husband earlier, but he heard tons of splashing,deciding maybe not. He had already finished his food it was venison sausage with one sunny side up egg,with orange juice to drink. He was washing his plate,stopping when he heard wet footsteps behind him and his daughter happily singing.

He turns to see his drenched husband,"Awww,did you have fun?" He asked,putting the plate down,whipping he hands on his white apron. He has his arms open for her in which she ran excitedly to him,giving her dad a big hug.

Alastor looks at Lucifer,grinning.

"I need an hour... to clean up and clean the mess.. one hour is all i need love." The blonde mumbles,turing around going back to the bathroom.

The Radio Demon laughs heartily,"Come on honey, let's get something in that little tummy of yours." He says as Charlie excitedly nods her head.

Once Charlie had aten,Alastor put some cartoons on to distract her while he cleans the dishes,leaving his husband's plate in the microwave to stay warm, then cleans the tabel,and around the house some. Once finished, he goes to charlie,"Ready to have that tea party, or do you wanna watch more of that tv more?" He asked,patiently waiting for an answer.

She practically jumped up in joy,"TWEA PWARTY!!"she says as her dad chuckles.

Lucifer comes out of the bathroom in his normal lazy day clothes, which is just some sweats and black shirt,he had also cleaned the bathroom. He goes to the kitchen, and as he walks by, he sees his a sight,so dear to his heart. He smiles softly, seeing his husband in a pink flowly dress wearing a tiara while his daughter was dress like a queen as they are drinking tea.

"Your Highness,would you like more tea dear?" Alastor asked politely.

"Yes!" Charlie exclaimed as Alastor poured the tea elegantly,even adding one lump of sugar for her. The blonde girl giggles,drinking some of the tea as her eyes light up as she sees her mwama!

She waves frantically,"Hwoo Mwama!!!" She said,making Alastor glance at him.

"Awww,hello sweetly. Having fun? Hmm?" Lucifer smiles adoringly at her.

"Yess!!"

"Hon,your foods in the microwave. " Alastor said,making the other's heart melt even more.

God,how did Lucifer get so lucky with the most wonderful family ever?

#hello tumblr #no proofreading we die like men #appleradio #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #little charlie #wholesome #fluff #soft Alastor

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digitalfountains · 2 months

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Lineisy Montero by Benedict Brink

#lineisy montero #benedict brink

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les-larmes-d-eros · 8 months

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Photo Benedict Brink, in "Look, Touch"

#Benedict Brink #intimité

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pinkydevil16 · 10 months

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Benedict Bridgerton x reader: part 6

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

The next morning Benedict was on the brink of causing a true scandal as he sat across from her, chatting lightly with those around the table as he impatiently waited for breakfast to finish and whisk her into the garden. He was desperate to be alone with her yet terrified of the reality in which he would have to contain himself, his imagination ran wild and made him think she would run into his arms and they would fall into the bushes. In reality he was sure they would both be tense, his heart would beat out of his chest and she would be able to watch it run circles around her before crumpling to the ground.

Y/n was in no better a state as she avoided his eyes, her thighs tensing as she recalled how he's looked, tired and half dressed. It was angelic, the moonlight dancing along his skin, the look in his eyes, his hair darkening his face. She was a mess, afraid to be alone in the gardens, she knew a maid would be no further than a few steps behind but she was certain the fear of a scandal could not prevent her from pulling him into her. She had returned to her bedroom swiftly after she had seen him, too anxious to see if he had lingered as she knew her resolve would crack. It frustrated her to no end that she felt so enamoured by Benedict, of all the suitors and men who had tried to catch her affection he had been successful in a way she didn't think was real. An unladylike want, a feral and primal need to feel him, she imagined this was what the maids spoke of when they discussed the women of the night. Was she in such a state as they appeared to be? Was she destined to end up in some whore house in soho under different gentleman each night, disgraced for having touched herself? But it had felt so good, so right to her, to feel that rush and the slight shame afterwards had quickly been diminished by seeing Benedict.

"Are you excited to see the Gardens?" Y/n was snapped from her trance, her eyes moving from her fork to Violet as maids began clearing the table, the older woman giving her a gentle smile as Y/n send one back.

"Of course, i am quite excited to see all the flowers you have." Violet gave her another smile as she stood, all the siblings and guests moving from the table as Benedict hastily pushed his hands into his pockets and moved towards her. Keeping his eyes on her face as he gave her a smile and extended his arm, Y/n sliding her palm along his bicep as she wrapped her wrist around his arm. The lightest of contact making his hand clench against his hip bone to hide his arousal, taking a deep breath as he took in her perfume, head swimming as he moved towards the garden. Her fingers tapping against the fabric of his shirt as they made awkward small talk, well aware of the maid a few paces behind as they looked away from one another.

"We planted sunflowers last year and they are sprouting quite nicely." Y/n hummed as she looked at the patch of yellow flowers almost as tall as Benedict, her fingers clenching on his bicep as she smiled up at him.

"It is beautiful, you have a magnificent garden, it must be lovely to spend the summer evenings on the grass." Benedict smiled nodding at Y/n as his mind wandered, imagining her laid on the grass, a small blanket beneath her as she sipped a bubbly drink, small children running around as he dropped next to her and kissed her cheek.

"It was, growing up my father used to bring my mother and all of us outside when it began to cool and they'd sit and watch us play." Y/n looked down, a sad smile on her face as she ran her hand up and down his arm in a comforting manner that sent shocks through his body. The pair began moving towards the larger garden area, hidden away from the house as the maid wandered behind and picked her nails, Y/n not paying attention as she ran her free hand along the flowers catching Benedict's attention.

"LUCY!" Eloise screamed making the maid jump as she turned seeing the black haired bridgerton girl come storming over, huffing about something as she tried to pull the maid away. The poor woman trying to explain she was chaperoning as Y/n felt her throat go dry as Eloise succeeded in dragging the poor woman away to find something.

"It's fine! They're fine i need your help now!" Eloise wasn't letting up as she kept pulling the maid away, Benedict feeling heat spike as he felt how close Y/n was, no prying eyes nearby as he looked down at her.

"Would you like to continue or go back inside?" His voice was low, almost a whisper as Y/n lightly bit her lip in thought and looked towards the house and back to him.

"Continue...please." Benedict could feel the tension in his trousers as she whispered the please, she was doing things to him without a single thought, so innocent and ripe for him to take.

They walked for a few minutes as he guided her further from any prying eyes, his own selfish mind wanting to be completely alone, just the two of them in world of their own. A fantasy in his mind that he craved to be real whilst Y/n was sure her heart was going to burst out her chest as she fiddled with her dress. Guiding her towards a small bench Benedict offered her a seat which she quickly took, wanting to fan herself at how hot she felt although it wasn't from the sun, taking a seat next to her Benedict tried not to look at her. He knew that would make him break and he wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from leaning in and claiming her plush lips, to see how they would gradually turn more red as he moved his against her.

"You are beautiful." Benedict breathed out, his mind racing as his eyes widened, not expecting the words to come out as Y/n's head to snapped towards him and stared at him as he kept his eyes on the grass. The garden was silent, Benedict concentrating on her breathing before she placed a hand on his cheek and moved his head to look at her.

"Benedict." Y/n didn't know what she wanted to say but as she looked into his eyes she felt like all the oxygen had been stolen from her lungs. His eyes were blown, eyelids barely holding open as he openly gazed at her lips, licking his own as he darted his eyes up towards her own eyes and back to where her lips were slightly parted. He wanted to beg for her to let him kiss her, on his knees infront of the whole ton to hell with etiquette and society if it meant he could feel her lips against his.

"You are so beautiful Y/n, you do not understand what you do to me. Your simple touch sets my body alight, your presence makes me question my morals. You make me wish to no longer be a gentleman and i am tortured by the knowledge that i am a gentleman, because i am trying so hard to be one for you. To be the gentleman who does not want to press you against the wall and steal your breath, to the gentleman who can say i am only your friend and could happily see you dance with another without wanting to steal you away. To be the gentleman who does not look upon you like the angel you are and beg the heavens to take me so i can be with you. But i am being tried every waking moment i am near you, i am inconsolable when i am away from you and i do not know if i can take this pain knowing you are so close. I need you." Y/n did not have time to process his words before his lips touched hers, her hand on his cheek hovering over his skin as her other grasped the bench in shock. Both his hands grasping her cheeks as he pushed every emotion into the kiss, feeling how she melted against him, her hand touching his cheek as she relaxed into the kiss. Letting out a groan he moved a hand to her waist and pulled her against his body, the bench making it impossible for him to press against her and feel her body against his own. He cursed the bench in his mind, wanting it to disappear and leave them a mess on the ground. Benedict pulled back, giving Y/n time to breathe as he tried to collect himself, aware of how her chest was moving up and down and cheeks stained red, the beautiful pink of her lips darker than usual. Her eyes were the prettiest part, the colour almost completely gone as she gazed up at him, her lips parted and hair slightly dishevelled from his hands which still held her cheeks in a loving hold. Her own coming to grasp his as she pressed into his hands and closed her eyes taking a deep breath. Opening her eyes once more as she gave him a sad smile, his heart racing as he waited for her to speak.

"Benedict, i...i do not want you to be gentleman. I want you to do everything you can think of, but i cannot risk marrying." With her worlds he was sure he could feel his heart physically break and bleed out inside his chest, a mixture of pain and pure lust that didn't sit well with him. She looked so innocent as she spoke those words, wanting him to ravish her yet she didn't wish to marry him. She didn't want to be his.

Benedict taglist:

@queerqueenlynn @m-rae23 @fantasyh0e

#benedict bridgerton x reader #Benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton is a gentleman #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton benedict

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