#bridgerton smut
Text
Eden
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...
I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.
Word Count: 4.2k
Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3
Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers.
Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.
“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer.
“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered.
“Are you sure?”
You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him.
“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.
“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict.
Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.
“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.
“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.
The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.
“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.
——
“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.
“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.
“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.
“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room.
“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.
“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.
“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”
“Hey…!” Benedict protests.
“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”
You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby.
“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you.
You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.
“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.
“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.
You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.
As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.
——
“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?”
Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later.
“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.
“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.
“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse.
The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank.
“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”
You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.
Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”
You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”
“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”
“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.
“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.
You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours. “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.
He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome.
Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.
“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.
Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot.
“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is.
You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.
He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.
“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.
“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.
“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.
This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body.
“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.
He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.
“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”
You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.
“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.
With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area.
As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.
He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.
“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.” His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.
“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise.
“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”
Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.
“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you.
“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.
You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time.
You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.
“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.
With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.
Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.
“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”
“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.
“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly.
He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does.
“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.
Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.
“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone.
“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.
He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage.
Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.
You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.
“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.
He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.
You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.
“Perfect..” he intones.
In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm.
“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.
His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…
“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.
“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.
Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.
“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”
He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.
You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.
You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.
“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.
That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.
“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.
——
As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.
“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.
“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.
“Even if it is a girl?!”
“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.
He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.
“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.
“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.
“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”
There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.
“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.
“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”
“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.
The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.
——
9 months later
Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.
But it was all worth it.
What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.
“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.
You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”
His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.
“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”
“Four?” he petitions with a wink.
You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.
“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world.
Which to you both, they are.
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the bridgerton blues
pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader
fandom : bridgerton
synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.
warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff
a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)
anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.
the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.
but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.
his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.
"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.
"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.
he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.
"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.
"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.
when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.
ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.
it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"
"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.
"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.
"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.
"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.
brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.
and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.
at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.
she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.
but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.
a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.
the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.
the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.
as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.
a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.
his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.
a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.
"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.
smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.
"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.
"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.
"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.
"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.
"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.
slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.
anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.
"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.
"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.
"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.
"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.
anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.
"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.
"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"
you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.
they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.
as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.
yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.
your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.
the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.
anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.
"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.
"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.
his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.
"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.
"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.
then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.
"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.
"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.
"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.
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the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.
luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.
the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.
"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.
around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.
you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.
you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.
anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.
as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.
much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.
"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.
"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.
"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.
"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.
you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.
you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.
to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.
your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.
stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.
anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.
"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.
"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.
the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.
"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.
"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.
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frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.
he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.
to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.
his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.
deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.
anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.
you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.
his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.
he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.
he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.
you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.
he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.
he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.
he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.
anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.
mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.
your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.
the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.
"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.
he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.
“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.
"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.
with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,
the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.
you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.
anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.
his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.
trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.
the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.
you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.
"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"
"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.
you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.
and then he stopped
he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming.
there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out.
and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.
his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.
he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.
sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.
"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.
"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.
"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.
without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.
then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.
anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.
he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.
"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.
with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.
he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.
panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.
"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.
you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.
"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.
"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.
"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.
who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?
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a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️
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#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton x you#bridgerton#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton imagines#anthony bridgerton imagines#the viscount who loved me#the viscount#the viscount x reader#jonathan bailey#anthony bridgerton x reader smut#smut#anthony bridgerton smut#bridgerton smut
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not without him
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.
#anthony bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton smut#bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton smut#bridgerton angst#bridgerton imagine
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Yes, My lord?
18+ MINORS DNI
Warnings: Brain rotting SMUT, barely any plot, reader is 1 month pregnant (you could probs imagine she is not if you really wanted to) Mentions of body insecurities, super fluffy, Anthony is so whipped for Y/N. Borderline pregnancy/breeding kink? switch reader, switch Anthony. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it guys.
Summary: Since finding out you are pregnant Anthony simply cannot keep his hands to himself, and when you turn the tables his arousal runs wild.
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Reader
Masterlist
Length: 1.8k words
Note: I could NOT get this scenario out of my head, i had to get this written and published *sobs*
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"That was a rather delightful evening"
You smile as you and Anthony ascend to your bedchamber for the night. The two of you had planned a ball to tell your family and friends the news of your pregnancy. The night was filled with laughs and joy from the family, excited about Anthony's first child with you.
The two of you approach the door and Anthony opens it for you, ushering you inside.
"Indeed, dear wife."
Anthony's eyes crinkle lightly at the sides as he smiles at you, approaching you from behind, fingers expertly undoing your corset. You sigh in relief, goosebumps on your skin at the feeling of release from your day clothes. Turning to face him you also begin to help Anthony from his clothes as he laughs lightly at your eagerness to help him.
Now nude in the middle of the room, Anthony looks you over in the faint candle light, his hand softly moving along the curves of your body. He follows closely behind as you perch yourself at your vanity, ready to take out your elaborate hairstyle. Anthony's hand gently pushes yours away from your head as he begins to take it out for you, looking at you through the mirror. His gaze was intense but loving, his eyes trained thoroughly on your flustered response to the intimate gesture.
"Look at me"
The sentence was commanding but gentle. You lift your eyes and he reaches for the hairbrush just beside you on the table. he begins slowly brushing your hair, gently getting rid of any knots or tangles. Anthony was always a gentle lover, but immediately after finding out you were carrying his child he became dead set on helping you with what he could. His tender nature shining through as he aids you in your bedtime grooming process. The feeling of his hands softly grazing your neck as he brushes has you in a trance, the soothing feeling of knowing you are safe and well taken care of my a man that loves you.
He begins massaging your scalp carefully as you let out a hum of approval. Anthony lets out a quiet laugh as he watches the bliss form on your face.
"I love you, Mr Bridgerton" you tease his formal name.
"Likewise, Mrs Bridgerton, I will love you for the rest of my life"
Butterflies flutter around in your stomach as you realise just how exposed the two of you are. Then it dawns on you, looking down at your puffy stomach, feeling as though you have already gained some baby weight. It had only been a month and you weren't even really showing yet. A flash of insecurity dances across your features at the thought of getting bigger. At this point, the Viscount could read you like a book and he stops his movements in your hair to lean down and kiss your head.
"Speak what is on your mind, my love"
You think for a second before answering.
"...My... Body..." you trail off.
"You are the most beautiful woman i have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Even more so now you are carrying our child."
You look down and pinch your widened hips, and in response Anthony moves your hand away, caressing you. He then grabs your hand, pulling you up to stand with his chest touching your back.
"There is nothing more appealing to me than my beautiful wife swelling with my seed..." his eyes darken at the thought as he begins to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck, lightly nipping and sucking and you shiver in his arms.
Heat rushes straight to your cheeks and in between your legs as you feel a solid length press against your lower back. You breath out shakily as he presses it harder against your backside.
"Anthony..." You moan softly, bordering a whimper.
The second he hears his name from your lips in such a tone he struggles to hold back, the heat in the room thickening with lust. He pushes you gently onto the bed and settles himself behind you, spooning you. His slightly rough hand glides slowly up and down your side, upper thigh to hip to shoulders. He caresses every part of your body paying extra attention to the parts you were most conscious about. You let out more whimpers from the intimacy of it all, your face feeling incredibly hot and you squirm under the touch. Your thighs squeeze together to relieve yourself in some way, only making Anthony smirk and his touches becoming more daring. His fingertips ghost along your nipples, but fall back down elsewhere on your body.
"Anthony... I am already-" you shudder as he passes by a particularly sensitive spot. "I am already pregnant..."
His laugh rumbles against your back.
"I am aware. That does not mean we cannot enjoy each others bodies hm, dear?" His tone was devilish as his touches become more bold. You flip onto your back and slightly part your legs with a pleading look to Anthony.
"So needy and impatient Viscountess Bridgerton" He tuts with a smirk.
Deciding to take matters into your own hands you launch up, planting yourself on top of him with heated cheeks. If he will be so cruel and tease you even in his aroused state, you would use him yourself. A look of surprise flashes across his face before it grows into an incredibly cocky looking grin. His body betrays him, as his chest rises and falls at a fast pace.
"What is this? darling wife." he cocks his head to the side, the same grin on his face. His eyes hold a fiery hunger.
"It seems, dear husband-" you adjust yourself just enough to tease his length and he softly moans, "That you enjoy your Lady wife taking control" you smirk, a new found confidence flowing through you at the look of your husband from above him.
He grabs your hips with both hands and grinds your core against him.
"My Lord" you moan, breathless, aware of what the title does to him.
"Y/N... I am warning you-" he begins to speak, using your name but you cut him off, pinning his hands above his head.
"Yes, My Lord?" You smirk at him as you lean in close, your lips ghosting his, only to pull away when he goes in for a kiss. You keep one hand holding his up as your other hand begins exploring your husbands chest, teasing him the way he was teasing you. Your finger lightly brushes against his groin before going up to his nipple, softly pinching the bud and a guttural moan escapes his mouth.
"How improper my Lord" you feign a gasp and he lets out a soft chuckle at your words, enjoying the confidence from his beautiful wife. The thrill and excitement from you pinning his hands above his head is almost too much to bare as he gets impossibly harder against your core. He couldn't dare say it aloud but the feeling of being at your mercy, a simple toy to you made his body weak. He could very easily remove his hands from your grasp and the two of you know it, and yet he does not move.
You plant hot, open mouth kisses on his chiseled chest, your arousal already coating his groin. he shudders under your touch and the wet feeling on his lower torso.
"You seem excited my Lord... Has something got you so?" you cock your head to the side, feigning an innocence and he groans at the sight of the same woman he gave her first orgasm to have him completely at her mercy.
"I could ask you the same thing, My dear" His tease came across in gravelly voice that screamed he was ready to take you here and now.
His cock sandwiched firmly between his abdomen and your wet pussy, you begin to rock your hips back and forward, sliding easily. The pressure on your clit had you whimpering and had him moaning in a deep voice.
"You are going to be the death of me" he looks deep into your eyes as you slide him inside you, the two of you moaning at the feeling. The teasing you both had endured was very clearly affecting you both, being incredibly sensitive.
He watches with hooded eyes as you bring your hand to your clit and begin to stimulate yourself. He could have sworn he died that very moment at the sight. It was not long at all until you came, and he relished in the feeling of your cunt throbbing around him.
"Y/N" He moans, moving his hands to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh.
"Do you wish to finish my Lord?" You smile sweetly.
"Yes I do, my dear" His reply full of lust, and a hint of neediness.
"Beg" The sweetness was immediately replaced with cockiness.
The command was simple but powerful as you look into his eyes, holding his jaw with your hand. He felt a shock wave of pleasure shoot through his body.
"Please..." his flustered face was incredibly cute.
"You can do better than that" you move slightly, to tease the feeling.
"Please! Oh god please" you almost came at the sound of his begs.
"You are free to do so... My Lor-"
Before you could finish your sentence, he sat up, you still on his lap and inside him. His hands grasped at your hips as he bucked up into you, his moans coming out as grunts mixed with whines. Hitting up into your g-spot mixed with his needy grunts and thrusts you came again, causing his orgasm to reach its peak, he continues to bounce you on top of him as he spills his seed deep inside of you.
Anthony falls back, his face delirious and euphoric, yours looking similar as you flop down onto his chest, his cock still buried inside you, slowly softening.
Within minutes he snaps out of it, gently pulling you off him, and onto the bed, approaching a second later with a wet towel he opens your legs and cleans you up, slightly smirking at the mess and your flustered face. after cleaning you up he places a soft kiss to your inner thigh and crawls back into bed with you.
He wraps his arm around your shoulders and you move your head onto his chest, feeling exhausted. The room was filled with your soft snores in no time at all and he places a kiss on top of your head, a smile on his face as he looks at you.
"I am incredibly lucky to have you, my beautiful wife" he whispers before softly touching your stomach.
"And you too, my beautiful baby"
~End~
#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#Anthony Bridgerton x Y/N#plus size reader#x female reader#smut#bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton smut#fanfiction#fanfic
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Carriage Rides
Pairings- King George iii x reader
Summary - no plot just smut
Warnings- unprotected sex in a carriage. (18+)
“Your majesty” Reynolds' voice outside the carriage door brought you both back to reality. Just outside those doors were your subjects , waiting patiently for their king and queen.
“Do not open that door Reynolds” George ordered, his hips continuing to thrust up against yours. Your own hips rolling against his, chasing your end.
“Is everything alright your majesty?” Reynolds' voice interrupts you once again, George’s hands grip tightly around the bunched up material of your dress.
His brows furrowed together in anger, he was so close. If people stop interrupting the two of you, you would be finished. On the way to the meeting but apparently no one had patience these days.
“Splendid Reynolds, now you keep that door closed or so help me I will have you beheaded” George quips, his attention moves back to yours.
His hand grips your jaw and pulls you down to his lips. Your hips begin their movement once more, your dress was in the way. Stopping you both from being as close to one another as possible, you hated it.
“Oh! George” you cried into his mouth, the corner of his lips turning up into a grin. He loved the sounds you made, he loved the way your voice would get raspier with each thrust of the hip.
“That’s it sweet y/n… doing so good” he whispered, you could feel the carriage move from under you. Your bodies causing the carriage to sway slightly, the sounds of the footmen chatting outside brought you out of your haze once more.
“Hey hey… don’t mind them y/n… look at me, feel me”
You nodded your head, placing your hands on his shoulder. His own hands groped at your breast, he so desperately wanted them out of the stupid dress you had been put into, but there wasn’t enough time to get you both undressed.
“Get off” he orders, moving you away from him. It’s not easy to move around the small space of the carriage but he is able to push your body against the window, your knees pressed against the cushion of the seat.
His body meets yours once again and he pushes inside of you, you bite down on the red curtain.
“You needn’t hide those sweet sounds my Queen… let them hear”.
You do as he says and let the material fall from your mouth, instead gripping it with your hands as his hips meet yours.
Moans and groans fill the carriage, traveling outside to where Reynolds and Brimsley stand guard at the door. Their eyes meet for a moment and they share a knowing look, they begin to order the crowd to move along. Telling them their king and queen will be a few moments longer.
“Oh George!”
“your doing such a good job my love”
Your walls begin to flutter around him, squeezing him deeper and deeper in. Your toes curl within the diamond encrusted shoes that hold your feet captive.
“Do not stop” you chant, you're so close to your release. You want nothing more than to cum around him.
“I’m going to bury my seed so deep into you… we are going to have many babies my love”
“Christ!”
Suddenly it happens, your release. White hot, blinding pleasure overwhelms your senses, your vision begins to blur and a moan escapes you. You tremble against the seat of the carriage, mind blank and fuzzy.
“That’s it my love… milk me dry”
Just as your pleasure begins to fade you feel his seed shoot deep inside of you a new warmth within you. George’s hips stutter against your bottom, a soft groan escapes his lips.
“We must make haste” you state, his cock falls out of you. Fixing your multi layer dress until you looked what you deemed perfect.. “Do I-”
“You look beautiful my love”.
#king george iii#king George bridgerton#bridgerton smut#king George iii bridgerton#king George iii smut#queen charlotte#king George smut#king george x reader
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exquisite weather today, no? | part i
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.
#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#colin bridgerton#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton x reader#bridgerton smut#bridgerton fanfiction
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Infatuation
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
MDI!! 18+
Part 2 <3
Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk
A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^
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You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.
Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.
You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.
You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.
When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.
Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.
"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.
You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.
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Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.
Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.
He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.
He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.
Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.
He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.
Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.
He could get used to this.
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Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.
After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.
"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.
You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.
You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.
You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.
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He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.
"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.
She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.
The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.
He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.
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You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.
He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.
"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.
"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.
"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.
He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.
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He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.
He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.
"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.
"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.
He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.
You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.
As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.
"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.
"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.
He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.
You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.
You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.
He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.
"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.
You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.
He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.
"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.
He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.
"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.
He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.
He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.
You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.
He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.
You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.
He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.
He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.
You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.
You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.
He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.
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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
#smut#imagine#reader#x reader#edit#bridgerton#bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#lady whistledown#eloise bridgerton#bridgerton smut#daphne bridgerton#simon basset#draw me like one of your french girls#bridgerton aesthetic
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To Be Alone With You
Anthony Bridgerton x female!Sharma!reader
Warnings: Smut, TENSION, cursing, oral (f), reader is Kate's full sister, kissing, touching when not supposed to, Anthony and his voice (warning himself), virgin reader (innocent ofc), sex on a dock (lol), kinda public sex, slight angst
I am so sorry that it got so long but it is so worth it. This is also my first Bridgerton fic so hope its good. :)
Summary: It was time that Anthony Bridgerton to finally meet the final Sharma sister who may stand in his way of marrying Miss Edwina Sharma but not like he expected her to.
Anthony Bridgerton was a man who was used to having any woman melt and cling to his every word. Women practically threw themselves at his feet the moment he walked in the room. His presence was a strong one, making everyone eager to please the viscount.
When Viscount Bridgerton met Edwina Sharma, the newly named "Diamond of the Season", he was happy that he could find at least one woman with half a brain. Miss Edwina was the suitable bride and soon Viscountess. It was almost too easy, so he thought. That was until he met the elder sister of Miss Edwina. Kate Sharma, a woman of one and twenty who was unwed herself, was a challenge that Anthony could not refuse. He fell into a pursuit to win over the eldest Sharma sister, doing everything by the book. Well, with a few exceptions.
The Viscount did not want a love match. He could never fall in love with the woman who will bear his children. He just couldn't. And Miss Edwina Sharma was exactly the woman who he could not possibly love but, she would make a wonderful bride for him to breed and come to have a heir to fill the Viscount role when Anthony died.
A last, his mother, Viscountess Violet Bridgerton, had invited the Sharma family to visit the lovely Aubrey Halls. It would be Mrs. Mary Sharma, the lovely girls' mother, Miss Edwina Sharma and then Miss Kate Sharma. Anthony was ready to deal with Kate when she arrived.
---
Dinner was being served when the thunder started. Benedict seemed like he had lost his mind, no doubt had drank Colin's tea that he brought from his travels.
"Have you noticed, Col?" Benedict asked, "The twinkles of the candles, it is as....as if we sit among the stars."
Eloise snorted and looked to her older brother, "What is wrong with you?''
"I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece," answered Colin.
Benedict went to take a sip of his wine but knocked it over, causing Violet and the other ladies to gasp at the table. The brother smiled and rubbed his hands over his cheeks in an innocent way.
"Lord Bridgerton, Miss Sharma here," A butler said.
"Whatever do you mean, Miss Sharma is here? How many are there?"
In just a few seconds a woman walks in, wearing the similar purple dress that the Sharma sisters were wearing. She looked identical to Kate, except her eyes were lighter. Her hair was more brown than black and she held her head high. Her presence was enough to even sober up Benedict for a moment.
"Is it just me or is there two Kates?" Benedict said, mind foggy.
"I am so sorry for my late arrival. Lady Bridgerton, the house is lovely." The woman said.
Violet blushed and thanked the woman. The older woman always enjoyed getting compliments about her home that she shared with Edmund.
"You said you couldn't make it," Edwina states as she moves to hug the woman. Everyone was confused as a goose until Kate stood up.
"This is my sister," Kate said, moving to stand by her.
You introduce yourself and smile at everyone, that is until you see Anthony. He had this look about him and you couldn't quite tell.
"I assume this is the viscount you were telling me about, Kate?" You said.
"Yes, this is Lord Bridgerton. He is the viscount and is to marry Edwina."
You looked at him and he just smirked. He had found a new toy to play with. And god did he want to play.
You looked at him.
"My lord, forgive me for my tartiness," You say, voice rich.
"All is forgiven, my lady." He had a hard look.
"Please, I am hardly a noble lady to earn that title,'' You tease.
Anthony was taken by surprise, no one had ever teased about their noblity or anything. Being a proper lady is very serious and not taken lightly. There was another Sharma sister, but at least this one seemed nice. For now.
---
You were quite the most annoying and challenging lady Anthony had the misery to meet. You talked too much, you jested a bit, your teasing with Benedict made his blood boil. Your words melting off your tongue and practically bringing Anthony's younger brother to his knees.
Benedict's face had blushed right before you move to rest your hand on his shoulder.
"My dear, Benedict, how are you?" You asked kindly, flashing that beautiful smile that made everyone melt.
"I am quite well, Miss Sharma." He looked down right flustered with your presence beside him.
Lady Bridgerton held a small ball at Aubrey Hall and Benedict had just finished dancing with you. The two of you had swept through the floor, everyone in envy that Mr. Bridgerton's attention was solely on you.
"Brother, I hate to steal our guest from you but I am in need of a dance," Anthony stepped in to say.
"I suppose that I have one dance in me," You laughed.
"I hadn't asked yet," Anthony said.
"Well, in that case, Benedict you wouldn't mind having yet another dance with me?" You smirked when Anthony rolled his eyes and groaned.
Once you got on the dance floor, Anthony could not keep his eyes off you, even as he danced with Edwina and Kate.
"My brother seems to be taking a liking to you," Benedict smiled.
"Please, he wants to marry my sister. After all, who even said I wanted him. Maybe I want you," You whisper the last part in his ear. He shudders against you and smiles.
"Is that true now, Miss Sharma?"
"Perhaps."
----
Pall Mall was the ruthless game that the Bridgerton's ever played. The Mallet of Death sat in your hands as Benedict had handed it to you with a wink and a sly smile. You blushed at the brother's antics.
He moved to be closer to you and whispered something in your ear which made you snort aloud and Kate looked at you with a raised eyebrow.
"Who has my bloody mallet?" Anthony's voice boomed in the air.
"My lord, I do not know," Kate smirked.
"Where is it?"
You coughed to clear your throat, suddenly bringing the Viscount's attention to you. That might have been a bad idea. It surely was.
"You...You have my mallet, I believe."
"I do?" You inquired.
"Yes, Miss Sharma, you do."
"Well, I suppose that I could just give it to you," You start to hand it to him, his siblings surprised at how easy you were giving it up, and Anthony was smiling, "But first you will have to catch me." You took off running down the field and Anthony just watched in surprise.
"Did she?"
"I believe she did," Daphne laughed. She watched as her older brother looked as if he wanted to blow up.
"Dear brother, I think you should go get her if that mallet is very important to you." Colin laughed as Anthony ran down the field, looking for you as the Mallet of Death rested in your possession.
He ran looking for you and he heard your sweet giggle coming from in the garden. He looked to see that everyone had given up on waiting for them and started the match without the two of you. He walked around the garden to find you crouching behind a hedge and was covering your mouth as you looked around the side of the bush, hoping to not be seen.
His boots moved to quietly as he stalked closer to your frame. He then grabbed your waist and picked you up, causing you to gasp into his hand.
"Lord Bridgerton, put me down this instant."
He placed you down on the ground and stands close to your body. His warmth and scent poured over you in waves. He smelt like sweat, dirt, body wash, slight scent of vanilla, and sandalwood?
"Lord Bridger-"
"Anthony, my name is Anthony." He said, panting at the closeness that he had created.
"My lord-"
"Anthony."
"My lord, it is improper to call you by your given name," You say, trying to catch your breath and not breathe his scent in.
"And us being in my mother's garden alone is very improper, I dare say, Miss Sharma."
Your smell floods his senses when he takes a deep breath and move closer to you, chests touching. The smell of dirt, sweat, lilies and Jasmine? God, it drove him crazy. Just being around you drove him crazy.
"You followed me here.''
"You ran here."
"You chased me."
"You took my mallet."
"I-" You stutter, "Benedict gave it to me."
He looks at you with something dark in his eyes, something that burned with fiery. His hand came to touch your waist and you nearly melt. He looks at your chest, noticing that you were wearing the Bridgerton color. You normally wore purple but you were wearing the baby blue that stood for his family.
"You are wearing my family color," He says, blood rushing some where it did not need to be.
"Oh, I had not known that I wasn't allowed to wear blue."
"It stands for my family and you...are...wearing...my...color."
His body presses closer to you, invading your space. He moves to corner you against the tall hedge, the only thing keeping your situation from any on lookers.
His mouth moves to rest beside your ear, hot breath fanning over the exposed skin there, goosebumps rising on your skin.
"You want something, I can sense it."
You shudder.
"And what would that be, my lord?"
"You want me," He said lowly.
"You are to marry Edwina," You correct him.
"That doesn't change that you desire me," He chuckles at your attempt.
"I beg your pardon. You are a rake and I have no desire for such a person like you. You are to marry my sister, not me. If you wish to be with my sister than act like it, if not then leave her alone. I will not be some play thing for you to play with when you want to."
"Oh but you are my play toy. You are whatever I want you to be. Do you know why?" He asked.
"Why?"
"Because all I have to do is whisper real close to your ear, like this," He moved even closer, "And tell you that I desire you in ways that would make any mama blush and cry out for improper topics to a lady."
You take in a ragged breath.
"Desire me?"
"Yes, why do you think I came out here to get you?"
"To get your mallet?"
"No, so I can have you."
" You are courting my sister to marry. I am done with this topic and I am leaving this garden. Good day, Lord Bridgerton."
---
Anthony was reeling. He couldn't stop thinking about you. He can't sleep at night because of you. It wasn't your fault. No, it was your fault. You were the one who kept reminding him of his soon to be proposal to your sister and putting him in his place. Heavens above, he couldn't help but be aroused when you put him where he was meant to be. And that perfume that you have, Jasmine and Lillies, god it did things to him.
---
The day had been hot, very hot and you knew that you shouldn't but you were burning for a swim in the lake. You couldn't help it. After being in the garden with the Viscount, it felt you aflame.
Sneaking out of your chambers, you made your way outside to the lake that rested toward the trees.
Looking around, you made sure that no one was up and you were making sure that you were not followed. You made your way to a tree and took off your coat. Yo began your task of unbuttoning your gown.
Anthony watched you remove each piece of fabric from your body as he made his way down to the lake himself. He had not known that you were going to be here. He had not expected it. He always goes for a midnight swim when he couldn't sleep. Why he couldn't sleep? You.
Slipping onto the dock, you take a dive, cold water enveloping your body. It felt heavenly against your heated skin. Anthony was never to be allowed to know that he was the reason behind the midnight swim in the lake. You swam to the middle and was sighing while looking up to the moon. The entire lake was lit by the moon, banishing all shadows from being cast onto your face. You looked angelic.
Anthony slipped in the water after stripping completely bare and went underwater. He wanted to see you move about when you were by yourself. He had wanted to see you nude, part of his mind begging him to see what you looked like, but you were still a lady and he was a gentleman.
You heard a splash and you turned around very quickly, spotting none other than Anthony Bridgerton. You knew you were caught and he would laugh at you but he just swam closer. You could only see his shoulders and water was dripping down them to be collected back to the lake.
"My lord-"
"I do believe that we are now way past formalities," He chuckled.
He was silently begging to hear his name fall from your lips. He knew this was wrong. You were his betrothed sister. You were a lady. You were innocent. If he took that from you, you would be ruined. But...but you looked so desirable. You looked just ready to be ravished by his mouth. To be tasted in places that you had never thought of to be touched. To be submitted to such incredible pleasure that Anthony knew that he could bring you. To be his.
He swam closer to you, grabbing your hand which he used to pull you until you were placing your hands on his shoulders to hold onto. You gasped at how warm he still was, even in the chilled water of the night. Anthony looked at you, smiling when he realizes that you move even closer, your legs brushing every time you move to keep yourselves afloat.
"I want you," He admits.
He kisses your lips, groaning when you kiss back only for a second before he feels himself being pushed away from you.
"You are engaged to my sister," You say.
"Not yet."
"But-"
"But, I want you. I don't want Edwina. I don't want Kate. I want you," He says, "I desire you."
Anthony kissed your lips once more, swallowing any sound coming from your mouth. His tongue brushed yours and you moaned. You had never done that but with Anthony, you felt so good you couldn't keep it inside.
Anthony had you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling something quite odd in between his legs but you didn't question it when he took your breast into his awaiting mouth. He sucked your nipple and ran his tongue around it as he teased you mercilessly. Your hair was down so it was hanging in the water as you threw your head back in bliss as he moved to bite at your collarbones and neck.
Anthony moved the two of you all the way to the dock, picking you up out of the water and seating you directly onto the hard wood. He then watches as you move back, suddenly aware of how exposed you are to him. He puts his hands on the dock and pushes himself out of the water, droplets trickling down his slightly hairy chest down to his now every noticeable something. You didn't know what on earth it could even be.
"What is that?" You said shyly, pointing to his hips.
"That would be my cock." He just chuckled.
"It looks hard," You said, "does it hurt?"
He groaned at your innocence. God, you were going to be the death of him. You looked so nervous to even ask and then when you did, you blushed deeply. You were so cute.
"It hurts some times when I desire someone really bad," He explained.
"Like Edwina? Did it ever hurt for Edwina or Kate?" You asked softly.
"No, never with them. I want you," He said, holding your face, "God, you consume every thought that I make. You make it so, so hard to be a gentleman. There is no way that I can escape you, no matter how hard I try because you are always in my mind."
He kissed you once more and you let him. You were going to forget about Edwina, who the man currently moving in between your legs and kissing every inch of your body, was supposed to get married to. You were going to forget the rules of being a proper lady. You were going to forget formalities and just revel in the pleasure that is being caused by the mouth of your sister's soon to be betrothed.
"Anthony!" You cried when he made contact with the little bud between your folds and he licked it. Your body was shot with electricity that sent your back to be arching.
He hummed against your core and went back to sucking on your clit. No one or nothing could have prepared you for the Viscount's tongue to slip inside of you. He had done so when you were pulling on his hair as you grasped for anything but you could not find anything to ground you. Anthony swept you away in pure pleasure as he ate you like a starved man. He drank anything your body was willing to give and he took it with a groan. His eyes rolled back as he tasted you.
"Oh, my lord-"
"It's Anthony. Just Anthony," He said before staring at your weeping cunt.
Your hands pulled at the man's hair and his other hand, that wasn't holding down your hips, moved up to grab a hold of your free hand that was gripping your breast. Your back arched when he made one last circle with his tongue on your clit and you burst with carnal desire. You shook against Anthony's mouth as he drank you in.
He thought you were so beautiful laying out for him, under the stars on his dock, wet hair after a late night swim and most of all, the way the moon shone down on you. You looked ever so innocent but oh so dirty.
"Are you okay?" He asked when he noticed you not moving but still shaking.
"I'm more than okay."
He laughed and began kissing up your body. His tongue poked out every once and a while as he traveled up to your mouth. The taste of yourself was erotic. You had never known something could exist. Anthony moved on top of you and positioned himself so that his cock would rest between your sensitive folds. He had to contain himself so that he wouldn't cum right on the spot.
You gave him a nod before he claimed your lips as he pushed himself inside your waiting body. You moaned out loud before you started panting against Anthony's mouth as the two of you tried to adjust to the sudden feeling. His arms shook as his head fell onto your chest as your hand ran through his hair, pulling slightly.
"Are you ready for me to move because if you aren't that's okay but I really need to move?" Water trickled down his body as he held himself above you, looking down at you.
"Please, Anthony." He smiled at his name and started to slowly pull out, letting you feel every ridge and vein his dick possessed and you were enjoying it. Anthony thrusted back in and your head fell back against the wooden dock. As Anthony thrusted his cock in and out of you, the only things that could be heard was your labored breathing and the sounds of your bodies moving against each other as the two of you reached new heights together and the sound of crickets chirping in the grass.
"Oh, god you feel so good," Anthony groaned.
"So fucking good," You panted, hips rising to match his. You were chasing something but you didn't know what. You didn't even know what was happening when your muscles started to tighten and some kind of euphoria started to crash down on you.
Anthony's breathing got caught in his throat as he watched your face contort in pleasure as he pumped himself constantly in you, trying to reach his end. He looked at your blissful face and decided that you would give him another.
"Just one more, darling, and then I can fill you up real nice." His hand went in between your legs as he watched himself move inside and out of you. His thumb began circling your clit, his cock hitting the right spots every time, his face tightening in desirable lust as he held himself above you, moving faster, trying to make you cum for a third time before he got his.
"Oh, Anthony!" You moan before he places a kiss on your lips to silence you. You cum one last time and Anthony unloads himself completely in you once bottoming out inside you. You laid there with him as he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm and you shuddered at the sudden cold.
Anthony kisses you lazily as he feels you giggle against his lips when he sighs into you. He pulls out and then shudders at the cold.
"I think we should go get some nice warm milk and sit by the fire to warm up," He proposes.
"Won't we get caught?"
"Darling, we just had sex on the dock in front of my house and you are worried about getting caught with some milk by the fire?" He laughed.
"Well, I can't be seen with you alone."
"Fine, but let's get dressed and go inside so we can sleep."
"In the same room?" You ask in a quiet voice.
"Not yet. We might get caught."
"Maybe getting caught wouldn't be so bad then," You giggle when you see his bare ass.
"Oh you are a little minx," Anthony groans.
"Maybe," You gasp when he picks you up after you get dressed and then carries you inside.
He takes you to your room and puts you down so you can stand. He doesn't want to let go but he knows he needs to leave soon.
''Good night, Miss Sharma." He said with a kiss.
"Good night, Lord Bridgerton," You sigh against his lips.
The kiss is passionate but is cut short when the clock decided to strike three and make a loud noise. You both laugh and he sees you close the door and he then walks to his chambers.
He finally can go to sleep with a smile on his face. A smile that didn't disappear the following day until he realized that he had to propose to your sister, Edwina Sharma.
#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton#bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton x sharma!reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton x female!reader#anthony bridgerton x reader smut#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton s2
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How would George behave while you were pregnant?
a/n;; a little headcannon about how George would act while you, his queen were pregnant.
summary;; George caring for you and how I believe he would treat you throughout your queenly pregnancy.
contents;; sickening amount of fluff, almost smothering amount of love, pregnancy, birth,
!!W!!;; vomiting
wc;; 566
music inspo;; falling in love
In the early stages of your pregnancy he would be an excited mess. Constantly asking if you were sure you were pregnant, just because he wanted to make sure he was being blessed with a little baby.
When a doctor would arrive to confirm the pregnancy, he would be at your side. Peppering your knuckles and cheek with kisses. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, only loud enough for you to hear.
He would demand you move to his room so that he may take care of you. He wouldn’t trust the staff to care for you and would adopt the jobs of helping you dress, get baths etc. Nothing would stop him caring for his wife and the mother of his child.
The morning sickness would break his heart, seeing you convulsing above a toilet bowl. He would be by your side in moments, in fact if he was busy and heard you weren’t feeling well he’d sprint to be by your side.
He’d hold your hair back as you are sick, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. Giving you gentle encouragement.
“That’s it dearest, you’ll be okay.”
“I am here my love.”
“Once this has passed I’ll wrap you up and lay with you.”
He’d be an absolute fiend when it came to baths. He’d be so doting, carefully filling the bath with warm water and topping it off with different (safe) dried flowers.
He’d wash you, allowing you to just relax.
He’d constantly be touching your growing belly, speaking to the baby growing inside.
“Hello my little darling. I am so excited to meet you.”
At night he’d hold you close, even in his sleep he’d be reaching for you and pulling you to be flush with him. His hand would almost always be splayed across your stomach.
He’d pay special attention to foods which made you sick and the cravings. He’d take it upon himself to go and retrieve your cravings from the kitchen, even going as far as too learn how to make them. He’d take lessons with the chef to make sure they tasted great.
Anything you wanted, whenever you wanted you can be sure he’d be making it happen.
He’d set up a comfy nook in the observatory, as the pair of you lay down he’d point to different stars and tell you their names. He’d trace constellations with his index finger.
When it came time to give birth he’d race to your side, probably coming from a meeting or a kingly duty.
If anyone tried to stop him from entering the room he’d diminish them to nothing, ripping into them. How dare they try to prevent him from being by your side, he’d push by them and deal with them later.
As you would be in labour he’d be on the bed at your side, holding you and brushing your hair out of your face. He would encourage you to no end.
He’d be nervous, but extremely excited to see his little family grow together.
He would be so proud of you, pressing little kisses to your forehead. His heart would break at seeing you in pain, though.
When it would be all said and done and the baby would cry, he’d cradle it as he lay beside you. His heart swelling with love at seeing his perfect child and beautiful wife at his side.
#bridgerton#bridgerton series#bridgerton smut#bridgerton spoilers#king george bridgerton#king george iii#king george x f!reader#king george x reader#queen charlotte#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton men#bridgerton fic#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton family
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marital duties
synopsis: king george x reader, loosely based on this ask,
the sun was burning against your back, the only cold solace being from the wet dirt that riddled your hands.
“you’ve got to be careful pulling that one out,” george— farmer george says to you. it’s a carrot, you’ve grown to recognize them by their leaves. “reach deeper into the ground. if you pull it from the leaves, they’ll rip.
you nod, digging your hands into the dirt, but not before you hear george inhale sharply. you turn, worried, finding his lips in a stern line and his brows furrowed.
“what is it?” you ask, interest peaked.
“you’re still not doing it right.”
you scoff, releiving your hands of the moist soil, and unceremoniously brushing them against your silk dress. it was far beoynd saving, sticky with sweat, stained with soil, the wonderful pastels now tainted with shades of brown.
“i’m reaching into the dirt.” you retaliate, flicking away the dirt from under your nails.
it’s his turn to scoff. “barely. you didn’t even get your palms in there.”
wiping the last chunk of mud away from your hands, you turn to him with an unapproving glare. “fine then, i’ll dig deeper.”
you dive in, wrist deep—
“no, now you’ve gone past the root entirely.” he scolds, shuffling over to the carrot you’ve been spending far too much time trying to pick out.
“let me show you,” georges hands envelop yours, his soft palms a sudden reminder of this very temporary escape.
only an hour, that’s all the time you got in a day to pretend that this was your life; to pretend that he was nothing more than farmer george, and you were nothing more than his wife.
“you have to say close to the stem,” he whispers, as if people are watching— as if this isn’t the only time in their entire lives where people weren’t watching.
he gently curls your fingers so that the tips run down the slimy side of the vegetable, nearly reaching the bottom.
“now,” he’s impossibly close, his warm breath against your neck almost making you shudder. “pull!”
he fists your hands and tugs at the carrot with a comical amount of strength. so much so that it causes the two of you to fall over, hands enveloped in each other, grasping a muddy carrot.
“now do you understand?” he says through laughter, and you’re struggling to speak with how much you’re laughing with him. the backside of your dress is now caked in a layer of mulch and dirt. if it was able to be fixed a minute ago, it was far past salvageable now.
“i think i understand.” you finally say through an onslaught of giggles, sitting up once his hands leave yours.
they’re quick to find you again, gently covering your bare shoulders, shielding you from the blazing heat for almost a moment.
you meet his loving eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail as if he’d forget it– as if he’d let his mind do that to him.
one of his hands runs along the side of your face, grasping your chin. “you’ve no idea how beautiful you are.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes. you don’t need a mirror to guess your current state: hair a mess, face riddled with streaks of mud, stuck to your face from how much you’ve been sweating.
“george–” you barely get to say his name before he’s kissing you, dirtied hands finding your place along your jaw. you share the sentiment, your own hands caked in soil are muddying his hair, pulling him closer to you.
his hands find your waist, pulling you on top of him. they wander up to your chest, down to your hips, and settle on your thighs.
you pull away, gasping, lungs aching from the lack of air. georges breath are matching yours: strong, heavy, wanting.
you’re about to go in again when you hear feet shuffling on gravel only a few feet away.
“brimsley.” you grumble.
“reynolds.” he mutters.
your right-hand men borh bow deeply. “your majesties,” brimsley says, standing up with perfect posture.
“yes, yes, i know,” you stand up, brushing off the layer of dried soil on your knees, as if it does anything to help. george doesn’t bother with the stains, almost as if he knows that any attempts to clean his farmer trousers would be futile.
“hours up.” you say with a disappointing sigh, and almost scream at the way that brimsley nods curtley.
“says who?” george is grabbing your wrist, catching your attention and reeling it back to him. “i am the king, and you, my queen. there is no one who can tell us what to do.”
“george?” you barely manage to say, standing blankly, fighting the urge to drop your jaw.
“all i’m saying is…” he begins to pull you towards your home, not-so discreetly eyeing your chest. “we have other marital duties to attend…do we not?”
“george!” it’s more like a scorn this time, your gaze quickly darting over to brimsley and reynolds who, as if they were statues, have barely moved since they appeared. unlike him, you’re not used to sharing your thoughts around people.
“come on!” he’s tugging you onto the gravel path, and all you can do is roll your eyes and hike up your dress while running off to perform your… “marital duties.”
#bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#king george iii#king george iii bridgerton#king george iii x reader#king george smut#bridgerton smut#bridgerton netflix#king george#king george x reader#netflix queen charlotte#✧. ┊ bridgerton !
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A Beneficial Arrangement
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.
Word Count: 6.1 k
Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3
It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.
“The Viscount is in want of a wife.”
That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.
“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.”
You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.
“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”
——
3 days later.
He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.
“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.
“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic.
His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.
“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.
“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.
And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.
——
9 days later.
“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade.
It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.
“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.
He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.
“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”
The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.
“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.
“Every word,” he replies solemnly.
“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.
“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”
He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.
“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.
You are married within three weeks.
——
6 weeks later.
‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.
“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.
“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.
“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.
“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.
“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision.
“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.
“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.
“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.
“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him.
To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.
It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.
When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.
“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.
You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction.
You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.
——
1 month later.
You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.
So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.
“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”
Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.
As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.
Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.
“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.
Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.
“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.
You sigh.
“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.
“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.
Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.
“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.
It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.
——
2 months later.
Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.
“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.
“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.
“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”
“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.
“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.
“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.
His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.
“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.”
But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman.
And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.
“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.
The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first.
“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.
“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.
“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”
“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.
“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.
A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.
“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.
“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”
“What made you change your mind?”
He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.
“You.”
The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now….
Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.
“Do not dare,” you growl.
His mouth falls open in shock.
“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.
“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.
You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his.
They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.
Good lord.
You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.
“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.
And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together.
He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.
He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.
“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.
“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.”
“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.
He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.
“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.
You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.
“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.
He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.
So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.
“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.
“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.
“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”
“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.
But he doesn’t answer your question directly.
“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.
You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”
Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk.
Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.
“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.
“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.
He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”
“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.
“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member.
“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.
“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip.
Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.
“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.
“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!”
He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.
“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.
“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.
The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.
“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense.
He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.
But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.
“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.
“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.
“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.
So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.
He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.
“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race.
“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”
The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.
“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss.
The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside.
“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently.
He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.
“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.
The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.
You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.
You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.
Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.
“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.
His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.
He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.
“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.
“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.
“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.
His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.
His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.
“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.
He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.
“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.
Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.
“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.
“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.
“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.
He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.
Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.
When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.
“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.
He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing.
“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body.
___
It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever.
A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.
A beneficial arrangement indeed.
Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor
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Adoration
Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton x wife!reader
Sweet and Spicy Bingo Collection
Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)
WC: 1.6k
Prompt: Tie Me Up for @sweetspicybingo
Warnings: bondage, oral (f receiving), fingering
You seek to turn Benedict’s attention back to you
*comments/reblogs are appreciated
Your lips pursed as Benedict entered the room in a state of dishevel. You let out a soft huff as it was most unbecoming of a married man of his status. The stench of tobacco and bourbon permeated the air, making you wrinkle your nose. You understood men indulged in particular whims and pleasures afforded to them. However, Benedict’s constant desire to populate the gentleman’s club almost every night was wearing your patience thin. Your husband dressed down before crawling into bed with you. While your fingers itched to stroke the smooth, warm skin of his back, you resisted the urge.
You scooted away, ensuring your back was toward him as you gathered the cover tighter around you. You wished to show no kindness or affection this evening. It seemed he’d rather spend his evening frivolously drinking rather than warming your bed, a behavior you expected of his older brother, Anthony, and not him. Though it seemed, Anthony outgrew the behavior after his marriage to Kate. You felt highly vexed as his snores cut through the air as he found quick, peaceful slumber while you found no relaxation. This would not do; you must discover a way to bring your husband back into your fold. You knew he loved you, the same deep, all-consuming love you held for him; you simply needed to show him that an evening spent with you could prove more exciting than one surrounded by drink and frivolous men trying to outdo one another.
~~
“Are you planning to go out again this evening?” you pressed him over breakfast, pausing to take a sip of piping hot tea.
“I was. Is that an issue?” Benedict asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I was hoping we could dine together this evening. I must admit I do not see much of you these days.”
A pout crossed your face, and you watched his expression soften.
“Apologies, dear wife, I was not aware I had been neglecting you as of late. I would be happy to dine with you this evening.” His tone was soft, laced with care, and your heart fluttered inside your chest.
“Wonderful, I shall arrange a delightful meal for us this evening,” you grinned.
When he departed for his day, he left you with a searing kiss to your lips, and it served as a reminder that his passion for you was still there. Your stomach bubbled with excitement as adrenaline pulsed through your body. You make a silent wish that this evening is filled with passion and that a child may form in fruition. You spend the day attending to your duties as the lady of the house, spending afternoon tea in the library lost in a book. When the time arrived, you ensured the kitchen was aware of the menu you’d like served for dinner, and you provided the housekeeper, Melinda, with a few extra pounds should an item need to be fetched from the market.
You changed into a more formal dress for dinner, one made of rose-pink silk that flattered your figure and a color that Benedict absolutely adored on you—his lush, pink rose. Anna, your lady’s maid, took great care in brushing out your hair before arranging it into an elegant updo with a few tendrils around your face. You applied a few dabs of rose-scented perfume and donned your diamonds, delighting in how they sparkle in the candlelight. You wanted this evening to be exceptional.
A pristine white linen was laid across the table as an assortment of food occupied the space: chestnut soup, fresh mackerel with fennel and mint, roasted goose, asparagus dripping in rich butter sauce, along with baked custard and homemade lemon ice for dessert. Decadent but well worth it. You were certain Benedict would savor the meal. You were only slightly perturbed when Benedict arrived home lately, but those feelings were quickly chased away when his lips were on yours.
“Apologies, dear wife. You have outdone yourself with this dinner,” he praised, sending a pleasant feeling curling up your spine.
“Thank you, dear husband. Please, sit and enjoy with me,” you smiled.
Conversation flowed like wine, laughing and delighting in each other’s company while savoring each bite of delicious food. Benedict’s eyes were fixed on you while you gently licked your spoon clean of the refreshingly tart lemon ice.
“My dear wife, I do believe you are too far from me. Come closer,” he beckoned, crooking two fingers.
After demurely dabbing at your mouth with the crisp linen napkin, you rose from your seat. A moment later, you were nestled in his lap while his fingers traced the curve of your neck, then gingerly over the diamonds decorating your throat. He dismissed the staff, instructing them to retire for the evening. A moment of confusion lingered in the air before they cleared the room.
“I’ve been neglecting you, dearest heart. Allow me to remedy that,” he whispered in your ear.
A gasp flew from your mouth as he lifted you onto the table after clearing the way, sending silverware and delicate china clattering to the floor. His mouth was warm against your décolletage as his hands eagerly furled your dress and chemise up your legs. He caressed your stockinged legs before rolling the fabric down to remove them.
“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, and you gave him a quizzical look but did as told.
He used your stockings to secure your wrists together behind your back before spreading your thighs wide, baring your most intimate parts to him. You shuddered, feeling woefully exposed and enjoying every tantalizing moment. It felt quite obscene to be spread wide on the dining table, offered up like an elegant dessert, dripping enticingly. Though it was quite titillating, pressure building deep within your belly.
The sight of Benedict kneeling between your splayed thighs elicited a deep moan from you. Your lashes fluttered as you watched his pink tongue delve between your silken folds. Your fingers itched to tangle in his hair, but your bindings kept you firmly in place, so all you could do was whimper as you fell apart against your husband’s skilled tongue. The tip of his tongue circled the delicate bundle of nerves that made your thighs tremble against the side of his head.
“Oh…Ben,” you gasped, belly clenching in pleasure.
He applied a bit more pressure as one finger sunk deep inside, causing your eyes to roll back. Oh, he was a wretched beast to make you fall apart in such a way. His curved finger hit a rather sensitive spot inside you that sent you toppling over the edge as your delighted scream filled the air. When he lifted his head from your quivering cunt, you noticed his lips and chin were shiny with your release. There is a whimsical and wicked sparkle in his eyes.
“I believe I’d like to finish my dessert in our bedroom if you find that suitable, my love,” he grinned.
“Indeed, I do.”
Behind clothed doors and with your hands freed, you took your time in undressing him, kissing every inch of skin bared under your ministrations. In your mind, he was a perfect, sculpted statue made of chiseled marble, and you stood in awe of his beauty as your palm took hold of his cock. You stroked him slowly until he stood proud and hard, pearlescent beads leaking from his ruddy tip. He pushed your hand away, spinning you around to free you from your dress, chemise, and stays before pulling you back against him. His hardness teasingly rubbed against the soft swell of your backside. You shifted around to face him, rolling onto your toes to cup his face.
He maneuvered you toward the bed while nibbling on your lower lip before guiding you onto the downy sheets. His mouth moved with fervor over the swells of your breast, taking time to suckle on each peaked nipple while his large hands squeezed your waist. His cock dragged teasingly over your delicate folds, making you shudder and yearn for more. Your bent knees settled against his sides as he slowly sunk inside you, making your eyes flutter shut and your back arch.
Your nails raked down his naked back as he found a steady pace with his thrusts, making sure you felt every single one. The feeling served to remind you that you were his and he was yours. Forever intertwined, nothing would ever keep his attention away from you again. You would never doubt his devotion toward you again. You felt oversensitive from the spirited tête-à-tête in the dining room earlier, and it did not take long for you to reach a blessed peak, spilling over your husband’s cock.
“My sweet, beautiful wife, you are perfection,” Benedict whispered, stroking your face as he gave a final two thrusts, rutting against you before collapsing in your arms. Your fingers dragged through his damp curls as his head rested on your bare chest.
The rest of the evening was spent curled around him, drawing in his warmth and reveling in the love you held for each other.
~~
You were most excited when Benedict returned home from a venture with his brothers, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him.
“I adore being greeted this way, dear heart! You must have missed me,” he chuckled, giving you a little spin around before placing your feet back on the ground.
“I did, and I have the most exciting news,” you squealed.
“And what news would that be, my darling wife?”
You guided his hand to your stomach. “I’m with child.”
His eyes shone with delight as he lifted you to spin you around excitedly again. “That is the most wonderful news, my darling.”
Adoration and pride sparkled in his eyes.
#fae's writings#sweetspicyhearts#benedict bridgerton#Benedict Bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton smut#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton imagine#Benedict Bridgerton smut#benedict x reader#benedict x you#Benedict Bridgerton x you#Benedict x fem!reader
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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
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.
#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton smut#benedict bridgerton angst#benedict bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton angst#bridgerton fluff#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton smut
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Hi lovely!
Could I ask for a Benedict fic where him and reader get pretty messy with the his paints? 💕🥹
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ mdni, nudity, sensual touching, kissing, implied sex (1k words)
Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3
You had met Benedict at a social event this past season and the two of you got on very well, any time you saw each other in passing you had to stop and make conversation. You felt at ease with him, he was so down to Earth unlike most of the uptight socialites of the city. You were very fond of him in general and it seemed he felt the same about you. Not to mention the fact you were also very attracted to him. He often spoke to you about his art and his passion for finding the beauty in life, he showed you his work book of sketches, all of random things he found beautiful even if most people don't.
Today on a casual stroll in the park, Benedict casually asked you if you would like to be the subject of one of his paintings, you had never thought of modeling before but it intrigued you. You were always curious on how people viewed you and this would show you his perspective of you, so you agreed. He brought you back to his studio and showed you some of paintings he had hanging around by artists that inspired him, then he lead you over to the center of the room where he had a large sheet of white paper spread across the floor. You assumed it was to protect his floors from any paint drippings but you were quite wrong.
"This is our canvas for today, my lady" Benedict smiles
You chuckle and furrow your brows a bit "I'm sorry what? Are you going to draw a life size version of me?"
"No, dear" he laughs softly "I'm going to paint with you. I want to use your body as a brush, if that's okay with you of course" he adds that last part in quickly to reassure you can pull out at any time. There's a sparkle in his eyes as he explains how he wants to cover your nude bodies in paint and roll around making an abstract design. "So, what do you say?" His voice is filled with hope, he desperately wants you to say yes.
You think about his offer for a moment, the thought of being naked with him excites you but also makes you very nervous. You have only known him a short amount of time but you trust him a lot, you nod with a soft smile "okay, I'm in."
"Excellent" he grins and claps his hands together once "you can get undressed while I prepare the paints." he gives you a comforting smile then turns around and walks to the back of his studio where he keeps his paint. You slowly start to undress, you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as you shed each piece of clothing. Finally naked, you fold your clothes neatly and set them on a small sofa nearby. The window of the studio is cracked out letting in a soft breeze, you feel goosebumps grow on your bare skin and your nipples become erect.
A few moments later, Benedict came back carrying a tray with small cans full of paint "alright here we are-" he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, his eyes wide in surprise as he takes all of you in "wow... you're absolutely breathtaking" his voice is so soft it's almost a whisper
You chuckle nervously, you feel your whole body start to heat up "um, thank you, sir" you wrap your arms around your body, very aware of how exposed you are. He steps closer to you and sets the tray on a small table, he picks up a can filled with red paint and holds it up to you.
"May I?" He asks for permission, you nod slightly giving him full access to your body. He dips two fingers into the paint and slowly runs them along your collar bone, it slowly starts to drip down your front as your body temperature melts the paint. He works his way down your body, streaking the red all over you, his fingertips ever so slightly graze your nipples sending a shiver down your spine. "Beautiful" he whispers softly before setting the paint canister down and began to strip his clothes off.
You watched him closely as each article of clothing flew from his body leaving him bare in front of you. He gripped your arm softly and turned you around, he slowly poured some of the paint down your back letting it cascade down your back. He presses himself against your back slightly, you can feel his breath tickling your neck as he began to place soft hot kisses along the side. He used one hand to rub the red all over your back, a gasp caught in your throat as his larges hands rubbed soft circles on your ass.
When he finished he turned you around to face him, he picked up a can of blue paint and handed it to you "now you do me" his voice soft but laced with something more sensual. You take the can and start to smear blue all over his body, trying desperately to avoid his intimate areas as best as possible even if it was staring right at you. Once he was blue from the neck down he gently took your hand and brought you down to the paper on the floor. "Lay back, darling," he instructed playfully "we're gonna roll around a bit" he chuckles before rolling on top of you, his arms wrapped around your body as he goes in for a kiss.
Things escalated quickly from there, paint began to adorn the paper as you two made love. Shades of blue and red mixed together leaving streaks of purple behind, hand prints of different colors could be seen throughout the paper. Moans filled the studio, there was also the occasional sound of paper ripping when things became too intense. When it was all said and done, Benedict framed the work and even put it up in a gallery. People always asked how he created such an abstract piece of art, he came up with a story of how he just started throwing paint at the canvas. Only you and him ever knew the truth.
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#natti’s 18+#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton smut#bridgerton smut#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton x fem!reader
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Marital acts
Pairing- breeding!kink King George x Reader
Summary - no plot just breeding.
Warnings- NSWF sexual intercourse, fingering, female receiving oral, breeding kink. (18+)
A/n- reposting because the tags won’t work. Fingers crossed!! Request for @siriusblacklftv
You’d been married for three weeks now, marital acts had been had twice. You had started to notice the signs of arousal that George had spoken about, the way your heart picked up when you noticed him without a shirt.
The way your undergarments seemed to moisten when his arms would tense as he racked up the flower beds, you could not deny the feeling any longer.
“Brimsley!” You shouted; even though you knew he was but five paces behind you. Your forehead pressed against the glass as you watched your husband, your king, in the garden.
“Yes, your majesty?”
“Take me outside” “yes, your majesty”
You turned on your feet and began to walk towards the doors, the doormen pulled the oversized doors open for you. The cool English breeze hit you in the face, only confirming your arousal even more. Your body felt hot and sticky underneath the abundance of layers.
“Shoo with that umbrella” you ordered, waving your hand in the air. You didn’t want to be followed around with the stupid thing, if you needed it. You would hold it.
Your feet took you towards George, he did not notice you at first. Focused on the activity in front of him, mud covered his trousers, sweat glistened over his upper body.
Your mouth felt dry, unable to announce your own arrival. Brimsley seemed to understand the fluster you were in and stepped around you, standing as tall as he could.
“Your Majesty, the queen”
George still did not turn around, as though the words went over the top of him. Stomping your foot on the ground you began to walk towards him, your shoe meets the mud with a squelch.
“Your majesty!” Brimsley all but yelped, reaching out to grasp you. Your foot seemed to have sunk beneath the mud, the bottom of your dress sinking with you.
“Y!N!”
This time George noticed you, his arms cradled you as he pulled you from the mud. Your shoe was left behind as he checked you over. “Oh George, it is just mud!” You smiled up at him, his lips quirk up as he grins at you.
“Why are you out in the garden my love? You should be inside out of the sun” he whispers, his fingers trace up and down the length of your arm.
You chew on the inside of your mouth, looking behind you at Brimsley and the footmen. “Some privacy” George ordered when he noticed the look on your face, the men stepped away just enough so they could not hear the words spoken.
“I seem to have a feeling within myself” you whispered, dropping your eyes down to your stomach and back up to him. “It seems to be the arousal you had spoken of”.
“Oh.. oh!” George smirked, his arm held your waist and he pulled you closer. “Are your undergarments wet my love?”.
“I believe so”
“We are to go inside at once!” George ordered again, he was walking you back towards the door. Practically carrying you as your much smaller legs tried to keep up with his long strides.
Once you were within the castle walls, his lips were on yours. Hunger bubbled in his chest as he slid his tongue within your mouth, relishing the taste of you.
“George! The guards!” You exclaimed, he shook his head and picked you up bridal style. His legs carried you towards your bed chambers, letting the doors slam behind the two of you.
He dropped you onto the bed, gripping the back of your head and pressing his lips to yours once again. Your skin was hot, itching to get out of the confinements of your dress. “Come here” he ordered, he turned you around and ran his finger across your exposed shoulder.
He began to pull at the corset, until your breasts fell out. His hands reached around to grasp them, his mouth on your neck. “Oh George” you cried out, your stomach filled with butterflies.
“So beautiful my love… these breasts will be so full once I have planted my seed within you”. George groaned, his hips thrust into your backside.
He had uttered those words before but it seemed more real this time, his hands kneading the flesh of your chest. His hands fell and continued to pull your dress down, leaving you in your undergarments.
He spun you back around and pushed you against the bed, hands gripping the waistband of your bloomers. “You’ve soaked through my love” he whispered, he was on his knees in front of you.
Kissing along the exposed flesh of your leg until his face met your mound, breathing in the scent of your arousal. With one swift movement you were bare in front of him, undergarments thrown under the bed.
“So beautiful” he mumbles, pressing his lips to your cunt. You all but cry out, so sensitive to his touch. He has only touched you two times, the feeling of his lips to your skin was still unfamiliar to you.
“Your majesty!” You cried out when his tongue circled your puffy clit, his fingers curled around your thighs pulling you against his face. “Just George”.
You let out a giggle which was replaced with a moan as his fingers entered you, still very unfamiliar with the feeling of intrusion. He began to slip his long fingers in and out of you, your arousal coating him.
“I want to fill this pretty little cunt with my seed… fuck you hard until you are with child, I can’t wait to see the swell of your belly as I make love to you” he states, pulling himself away from your cunt.
He stands up and pulls his trousers down, his cock stands tall. It’s tip red and throbbing, begging to be inside of you. Your fingers wrap around his shaft, give him soft pulls until he is crawling above you.
Your legs parted for him eagerly, both your eyes fell to the area you are to connect. He holds his cock and presses it to your hole, pushing in slowly.
You felt full, your pussy pulsating around him. It was much easier this time round, your arousal giving you a lot of help. His hips began to rock, your legs wrapped around his waist.
“You're so tight… I want to stay inside of you forever” he groans, his head pressed into your neck as he thrusted into you. You wrap your arms around him, nails scratching his skin. “Please George, I would love nothing more than for you to stay inside of me”.
“Going to make love to you until your cunt is weeping, begging me to stop. Going to to abuse it until my seed seeps out of you”
His words seemed to cause a flutter within your stomach, clenching around him as he drove himself into you. “Please George! Fill me with your seed!” You beg, tears form within your eyes from the relentless thrusts.
He pulls out of you, moving himself up to the head board. “Get on”. You're crawling up to him and sinking back down on his cock, he takes your nipple within his mouth and sucks. “These breasts are but mine until we are blessed with children, I will then share them but then they are mine once they are old enough”.
You hold onto him around his neck once more, moving your hips in slow circles. Your clit rubs against the skin on his stomach, sending shock waves through your body.
“I have that feeling George… I feel pressure” you exclaim, squeezing your eyes shut as you bounce above him. His lips leave your breast and he stares up at you.
“You will feel the most amazing pleasure soon my love, milk me dry. We are to get you pregnant tonight”.
He grips onto your hips and helps you move, watching as your face screws up tightly. Your orgasm is but seconds away from invading your senses. “George!” You cry out, he grunts from beneath you as your head falls back and you cum around him.
You moans can be heard within the castle walls, footmen side eye one another.
“George! George!”
“That’s it my love, let that pleasure take over. I can feel your sucking me dry!”
Your body shakes above him, ears ringing and toes curling. George is seconds behind you, shooting his cum deep within your walls. “Do not stop George! Plant your seed within me, make me with child!”
“I will plant my seed deep inside of you, you will carry our child within a few weeks!” He grunts under you, milked dry from your swollen cunt.
“Wow!” You exclaim, relaxing around him. He stares up at you with tender eyes, placing his hand upon your stomach. “I do hope you will be with child”.
“Me too George, me too”.
#king george iii#king george bridgerton#king george iii x reader#king george smut#king george iii bridgerton#king george x reader#king george iii smut#bridgerton smut#netflix queen charlotte
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