#Beckett smut

[ma1dmer]

Vampire the Masquerade - Cuthbert Beckett NSFW

i am gonna impregnate this man

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): he'll run his claws through your hair ,press a kiss to your forehead and probably return to his research , wouldn't mind you joining him even if its just to nap next to him, he’ll keep a hand in your hair as he reads through various texts and books while you rest before he probably has to rest as well, his body forcing him at that point to join you

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he knows he is a handsome man, he knows people want him but thinking of something specific for his body, or anyone's body if we are being honest, seems so pointless to him, vanity is such a mortal matter after all and beauty is flitting, he says with a sharp and knowing grin, since he knows he is immortal and very much considered hot. he likes different things on different partners. Different things that have his eyes wandering ,and provide some sort of distraction in his day to day.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): out of sight out of mind, hates having to clean up everything after he is done

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is definitely a switch, depends on the person he is with of course and what they bring out in him, its always exciting to see how things will go, he likes to be surprised

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): he has spent so many years on this earth ,of course he has quite the experience, and it shows, whore

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): he loves taking you from behind, while he is doing his research he beckons you over before bending you over his desk ,scolding you if you crumple any paper or spill ink on his precious books

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): he seems like someone who would be very intense, but if you can't enjoy and be light-hearted with someone you bed whats the point, that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy teasing you if you get overwhelmed and unable to keep up

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): he doesn't care to trim or shave, especially considering he is a gangrel

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): he is both incredibly smooth and all types of romantic interactions fly right over his head, it really depends on the mood he is and how deep he is lost in his books, he could have you wrapped around his finger with poetry from aeons ago , and promises of the most delicious things, but also you could stand in front of him entirely naked and he’d get frustrated at you only raising his head from some ancient scroll and asking you what you want

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): enjoys being given a show, he likes knowing how much you want him, wants to watch you pleasure yourself, his only help his hand rubbing your knee as he keeps his eyes fixed on you memorising every detail of your expressions and body

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): voyeurism, maybe one(1) daddy here and there but nothing more, some minor roleplaying , naughty librarian? desperate ghoul etc etc

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): he prefers to keep such matters behind closed doors 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): being challenged, he likes people that run their mouths as much as he does, he does get frustrated at first and annoyed meeting someone his equal, but he would be bored otherwise, and all that frustration does make for delicious tension that bleeds into his more carnal needs

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he hates being pulled away from important work, he’ll tell you once, that he is busy and does not want to be disturbed and expects you to listen, if he hasn’t told you so , he is open to being distracted but you can tell when he wants you to fuck off somewhere else, of course in kinder terms

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): he loves both, he is very very very thorough when he gives, knows how to keep his claws and teeth out of the way , or not if its the danger you like, and he definitely won’t say no to a pretty little thing on their knees for him

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): it depends ,he loves simply taking his pleasure from you fast and rough, but also simply having you spread out for him ,taking his time with you until you tremble

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): not a big fan, hates being taken away from his research will click his tongue in annoyance if you bother him

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): he is a naturally curious man that thirsts for knowledge so it comes to reason to assume that extends to his more private matters as well

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): considering what he is and the fact he is pretty powerful i would say his stamina is unparalleld, it takes him a while to get in the mood but once he is , he tends to lose time, and can go for honestly far too long ,you’ll be crying before he pulls away confused like , what happened, check the clock and see its the next day or something, those damn vampires

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): he can definitely appreciate them, he is slightly too old fashioned to truly enjoy them for himself, but he does enjoy the fantasy of stuffing you with a toy before letting you walk away, however the idea of you potentially getting in danger or being humiliated stops him 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is quite the tease, likes holding you down by the scruff of your neck, using your body while teasing you with his words, speaking almost matter of factly about how desperate you are for him

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): besides his teasing words he is so quite, sometimes you forget he is behind you when he has you bent over and you turn to make sure he hasnt simply left the room but he'll press your head back down and tell you he was just admiring you

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): absolutely uses nicknames when he addresses you teasingly, pet or darling depending on the mood

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): knot? knot! 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): quite low, he is very in control of his needs, he likes when you want him and he chooses when he allows himself to want you, when he can afford the time to indulge both of your interest

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): if he could never sleep he’d probably be a happy man , so much work to do, so much research 

[darkeralmond]

beckett with a size kink.. literally that’s it maybe some praise/degrading kink

OH CELESTE WHAT WOULD I DO W/O U ILYSM GIRL ❤️❤️

DOMINANCE OVER YOU

Beckett Sennecke x fem! Reader

synopsis: beckett is obsessed with how much bigger he is compared to you since it makes him feel like he more confident and dominant

warnings: 18+, smut, size kink, fingering, oral (f! recieving), sm dirty talk oml, swearing

word count: 1k

a/n: everyone say thank u celeste for this request. i have been so obsessed w beckett and i needed an excuse to write about him stat. thank u all sm for the support as i come back from my hiatus ilysm!! ❤️❤️

You had always been insecure about your petite size. You were shorter than the girls in your high school, and you could barely fit in your uniform. Even though you hated how small you were, your boyfriend was obsessed with it. He was obsessed with you.

Beckett was 6’2 and he took pride in the fact he towered over you. Beckett loved to carry you in his arms like a princess. It made you feel special to be in his arms because he never touched anyone except for you. Not to mention everything about you was smaller than him, so it made him feel dominance over you.

The two of you were making out on his bed when you suddenly felt him move. You were so caught up in his kiss that you weren’t paying attention until he pinned you down by your wrists and began pushing himself against you.

He broke the kiss and moved his lips down to your neck. You were super ticklish, so when he started to nibble you giggled. He then began placing dark bruises on the right side of your neck, causing you to let out an involuntary moan. You had never been this aroused and turned on before him, and he knew that.

“Look at you being so helpless,” Beckett rasped before he continued to mark your neck. You wanted to make a snarky comment back, but the magic of his mouth left you breathless. You could only whimper at his touch and beg him to stop teasing, though your voice came out quiet though.

His hand moved down from your wrist to grip your thigh. His thumbs rubbed circles around your inner thigh before slid his hand down your pajama shorts. He used one of his fingers to tease your clit before he inserted his finger inside you.

His hands were large compared to you, so he slowly slid his fingers in for you to adjust. You gasped loudly as your walls tightly clutched around his fingers. “That’s it. Take it like a good girl,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your earlobe.

After you adjusted comfortably, you bucked your hips into his hand while he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were a whining mess underneath him, squirming to feel more of him. “I love hearing you like this. I know it feels really good, doesn’t it? Who’s my good girl?”

“I-I am,” you whispered, but it came out as a stutter. Your breathing became short and rapid as you grew closer to your climax.

“Louder, baby.” He then curled his fingers causing you to arch your back.

“Me! I am,” you cried. “Oh, fuck!”

When his hand stopped moving inside you, you let out a disappointed moan. You weren’t finished yet and he abruptly stopped. You felt like you needed more stimulation. He obviously knew this since chuckled in response before placing soft kisses on your jaw.

“You like this don’t you?” he husked between kisses. “Having me do things to you? You want more right?” He pulled his fingers out before sucking your juices from them. “You taste amazing.” You felt your face burn and you couldn’t help blushing.

He then lowered himself down to your waist causing you to squirm as you watching him lift your shirt to expose your stomach. He pulled your shorts and panties down before looking up at you with his innocent blue eyes. With a wicked grin, he rasped, “So eager for more.”

He wrapped him arms around your thighs, pinning you down with his hands on your stomach. He then lowered his head between your legs and dipped his tongue between your folds.

The overwhelming feeling caused you let out a shuttered exhale. His fingers grazed your stomach while the tip of his tongue flicked against your bud. You writhed beneath his grasp, bucking your hips forward while he held you down. You looked down at him and met his gaze. A devilish grin appeared on his face as he watched you struggle to move.

Once he got to the spot where you were throbbing, he pulled away leaving you panting. The look on his face reminded you of an excited puppy who just got his favorite toy.

You tried desperately to keep yourself under control but you found it hard. The way he licked, teased, and flicked your clit had you wanting more and more.

“Do you want more?” he asked. He moved his thumb up from your bellybutton to your clit, playing with it while still looking up at you. You sucked in cold air through your teeth as your head fell back. “Come on, baby. Use your words.”

His tone and touch drove you insane. You needed him more than anything. “Please, Beckett. I need you,” you desperately pleaded. He grinned before placing another soft kiss on your swollen clit.

His strokes became sloppy and slow, your folds wet with a mixture of his saliva and your juices. Your eyes fluttered as held your breath when you finally hit the peak of your climax.

You felt Beckett’s tongue swirl around the rim of your hole before he removed his mouth and rolled off of you. You began the process of catching your breath while you laid back down exhausted, yet satisfied. He laid down next to you before he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You snuggled up against him, enjoying his warmth while you recovered from your orgasm. One thing Beckett loved after sexually torturing you was taking care of you afterwards.

Beckett ran his finger tips along your spine as he whispered, “I am such a lucky guy.” You hummed in agreement and buried your face in his chest. He smelled amazing, something masculine and sweet.

You closed your eyes while he stroked your back. “You should let me give you a blow job sometime,” you giggled.

“Uh, yes please!” he laughed before he kissed the top of your forehead.

[skyrigel]

Hey Rigel I love ur work like so much 💓 can I request Anthony bridgerton where he is getting married and realises his love his y/n or smth similar with him getting jealous and angry when y/n and Benedict or colin fake date like tht or anything if this doesn't make sense 😭

Enchanted | A.B x you

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict x fem!reader x colin ( platonic) wc - 3.8k

Synopsis: When Aubreyton's CEO strikes a match with Miss Edwina sharma, because she's nice and kind and witty, ofcourse nothing could go wrong, except you have feelings for Anthony.

Warning :CEO! Anthony x assistant! reader, Asshole! Anthony, Benedict x sophie, Polin, bridgerton's chaotic dynamic, reader and Benedict share one brain cell that's mostly with you, alcohol, fake marriage( Anthony and reader), social media au, office au, modern setting, forced proximity, jealousy jealousy, mutual pinning, fluffy fluff, bit angst, arranged marriage, bit Collen Hoover bashing but it's a joke ( maybe not ) no Edwina bashing, scary Kate sharma, yes!!! ( Might add more later )

" Your brother is an idiot." You said, gritting your teeth as your mail blew with applicants, beautiful young ladies with peculiar yet remarkable talents.

" That." Benedict catched the grape midair with his mouth," we know of." He added with a cocky grin.

" Read another ! " Colin peppered, stealing your cookies which you ignored, sighing as you opened another mail.

" Tiana Young, twenty-one, I like to read, write and sing, my favourite author is Collen Hoover—" Benedict snorted, " —I like children and hope to be a mother, I am very soft spoken and good natured, my neighbours call me Ti, because I am a tea kinda person—"

" What's a tea kinda person ? " Colin bited the smuggled cookie, Benedict pulled the remaining to his side hastily, you felt your appetite long gone.

" It's like...they are like tea..." Benedict said, more in doubt as he looked for affirmation.

" Like milk tea or another tea ? " You asked, perhaps tea could takeaway your headache.

" What's an another tea ? " Colin's hand began to pull the tray, Benedict frowned but said nothing, taking one hurriedly and breaking it into two parts, offering you the bigger one.

" No thank-you, let me fix this Tiana's appointment." You exhaled, copy pasting a paragraph how (un) grateful you were to her for reaching out, she would soon have her appointment date and bla bla bla.

" I knew my brother was workholic but this wife hunting thingy is so exhausting." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows, you knew he was being kind but he wasn't helping at all.

" It would have been over if his requirements weren't so high, like he's not looking for a wife but some utopian woman god has yet to create ! " You were ranting, you knew, but this was the only way you could stop yourself from punching Anthony for putting you into this misery.

" Why can't he just fall in love ? " Colin looked at you and Benedict seriously, his mouth covered in crumbs, " Come on, love is like...like a force to be reckoned with ! " He beamed, ofcourse it was a force, didn't Penelope wrote something smiliary in her latest book, you somehow felt your heart shuddering, what would happen if Anthony were to be in love, some intelligent, beautiful woman, some utopian goddess of his, you didn't like the idea one bit, so you laughed it off.

" Brother in love ? " Benedict was in stitches, banging his palm on the table, shaking few very important papers that laid without any significance. They will be probably used as napkin if you weren't there.

" It's not funny." Colin got up, taking his coat, he rolled his eyes when Benedict refused to stop laughing, you shaked your head helplessly as another mail popped up, Jasmine had written a essay about global peace and increasing capatilism, you groaned, damn you Anthony bridgerton!

_

" Good evening Anthony." You tapped save on your screen as Anthony entered the office, a beak of sweat trickling down his neck line, okay, someone got either fired or roasted down to their very existence, you preferred the former.

" Good evening y/n." He looked up at you, he worried his jaw to say more but decided against it as he settled on his chair, it was very comfy and very big, years of working with him but you couldn't fathom the courage to ever have a taste, perhaps Benedict would help, maybe then.

" There are twelve appointments I have scheduled for tomorrow, Miss Becka—"

" Cancel them."

" What ?! " You almost shouted, you didn't waste your whole day to adjust and fit these pretty woman according to the time and weather and place and Anthony's mood so nothing went wrong, did he just said cancel them like it was nothing, this—

" We are going out Tommorow, it might take all day so cancel them." Anthony ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, your brain short circuited at the words more and more made some meaning, we ?! Did he, for heaven's sake said we ?

" You and me ? " You blurted and lowered your gaze when his eyes snapped to you, a deep color blazed your nose as you fiddled with your skirt.

" Yes, me and you." He confirmed and you could swore, that was a smile, a small, thin, almost unrecognisable on his always stern face, but that was a smile.

" Why ? " You closed your laptop, tucking the strands of your hair that usually came out after a long day, behind you ear.

Anthony pressed a key and it beeped, he shifted his face to you, thinking that he was almost frowning and finally, he said with a neutral face.

" I have found a match." His face gave nothing away, " Miss Edwina will be most suitable for marriage." He said it like it wasn't his marriage he was talking about, " she's very graceful and witty and would make a amiable wife and a kind loving mot—"

" Right." You snapped mid course, his mouth was hanging open with words lost in void, you knew very well Miss Edwina was a fine young lady, she was beautiful and kind and sharp at wits, ofcourse this ended your torment or perhaps began another, but not now, you needed to think.

" I..I promised Benedict for dinner. " You muttered, feeling your whole body numb as you stumbled out of your seat, Anthony watched, something glazed in his eyes but you couldn't place it, you might if you looked longer but you had no courage left now. You were almost at the glassy door, he was watching you intently and you felt his gaze burn at your back.

" You like my brother quite very much." He startled you, you paused, heart beats echoing through your throat. It was like he was accusing you, almost jabbing his finger on your chest. What does that mean ?

" What could I say ? He's very amiable." You turned to smile at him, it trembled on your lips and Anthony scoffed slightly, mouth curving in disdain but it was gone as soon as it crossed his face. Damn you !

" Have a nice day sir." You closed the door behind you, covering your face as a muffled scream cut through your cartilage.

_

" Miss Edwina ?! " Benedict almost screamed as you narrowed your eye sternly at him, he lowered his voice in a whisper, ducking his head down towards you, " sorry but Miss Edwina ?! "

" I know, I know." You swigged another gulp of the dizzy bubbling liquid that will give you a terrible headache tommorow but right now, you just wanted this uneasiness feeling to go away.

" Didn't her scary sister vowed to ruin him or something like that ? " Benedict licked his thumb, eye's watering at the spice, you loved this place's Chole bhature very much, last time Benedict cried when he accidentally bited the green masala filled chilly.

" Yeah, she refused to take ahead the Mayfair deal, or something like that, not that it would ruin anything and—" You sighed, leaning back your head as the soft music tickled your senses.

" What ? " You heard his faint murmur.

" Well Anthony was right, as soon as our team announced his engagement, ofcourse not revealing the bride, he's well trending—"

" He's always trending." Benedict groaned, chugging water as his lips were swollen with spiced heat.

" Yes, but not for thirsty things, i meant that Aubreyton is trending and our shares are touching the sky and it's a whole profitable season ahead." You ended breathlessly, you stared at him for full second before both your eye's crinkled with smiles and laughter that came from your hearts, it lightened the air somehow as well as your heart.

" You do remember I am part of the executive board ? " Benedict tilted his head with a warm smile and you shaked your head, feeling tipsy.

" Like you do anything except torment me and poor Colin ! " You pouted, feeling your cheeks flush as Benedict threw his head back and laughed.

" Poor Colin ? " He cooed, " he's probably getting laid tonight." He added with a wink, you slapped his shoulder nervously.

" Penelope replied ? "

" Ofcourse, my dear little brother wrote a whole ass three page message, with a picture of all her books that too hardcover and first editions."

" Wow." You said, impressed, Colin was head over heels, it was only a matter of time since the dazzling author knew.

" And what of Miss Beckett ? " You wiggled your eyebrows like Benedict did when he teased you, he turned a beetroot red as he fumbled with the last contents of his glass.

" She refused for a live in relationship." He said, his face grew sad and you mentally winced for putting him there.

" Oh." You nodded, Sophia lived with her evil mother who liked to see her suffer and she was, afterall, too good of a girl.

" Benedict..." You whispered when he closed his eyes softly, hiding his face behind his palms.

" I am not crying." He was. He sniffed as a few heads turned towards the pair of you, many with sympathy, probably thinking you had refused to marry him or something.

" Hey, hey, hey..." You pulled yourself as you dizzily tripped over to his side, wrapping your arms around him as he melted in your embrace.

" She doesn't understand..." He said it so muffled that it was unable to make out what he said, but you understood it anyway.

" She will, she loves you so much." You kissed his head and he nodded, tears streaking your shirt as he finally emerged with red, sticky face and puppy bright eyes.

" I think i drank too much." He admitted, you nodded, feeling yourself floating too.

" Let's call a cab, we shouldn't drive." You suggested, fiddling with cash as you payed the bill, leaving good tip for the teenager waiter, who smiled kindly at every inner joke Benedict shot.

" Uh huh." He focused hard on his phone, sticking his tongue out like he did when he was really, really drunk and or just really, felt the need to, or he was about to do something stupid, which he did.

Twelve minutes later, Anthony bridgerton was standing outside the restaurant with a heavy frown and it was strange to see him in normal clothes, like that grey t-shirt felt odd yet gorgeous and those sweatpants, you were way too drunk, you realised.

" You'll make a fine gentleman." Anthony curted his mouth, his words dripped with sarcasm that you and Benedict were too drunk to catch on.

" Thankyou, the cab idea was mine." He said smugly, ducking out when you smacked his ass with your purse, Anthony watched with wide eyes.

" Liar." You jabbed at him, he started to giggle and stumbled, taking you along before Anthony grabbed you by the waist and pulled you away from him, Benedict winked at you when Anthony closed his eyes, frustration or whatever that dazed him, his touch was electrifying, like current jostling in water.

Anthony pulled away his arms from you, his eyes strained like it pained him just the same it hurt you.

" You are wasting my time brother, get in the car." He glared, " come." He said to you, his gaze softened but that could be alcohol, you weren't reliable narrator especially when it was Anthony bridgerton.

" Well you could have refused." Benedict ran and sprawled inside like a bear, covering the whole back seat with his wasted body.

" Yes well, I didn't come for y—" he clamped his mouth in a thin line, nerve twitching on his forehead as he breathed hard, eyeing you as you ran after Benedict's seat thievery, you opened the door and his head almost snapped when he looked up you, it was a nauseous enough to make you vomit.

" Move." You pulled his hair, in no hell you will sit in the front seat, not like you haven't, but you were drunk and you were angry and you hated Anthony and you wished so much to just, to just, just once, once just, kiss him hard, that's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Leave this idiot." Anthony was suddenly behind you, he touched your elbow with same electric touch, guiding you to the empty front seat as he opened the door, you could feel Benedict wiggling his eye, you will deal with this bastard later.

" I was thinking—" Benedict started, once Anthony started driving, he was shut real quick when Anthony glared with words.

" Stop thinking." Anthony rolled the steering wheel and you looked away, those veins taunted and lured you, it was maddening and the streets were much dull and undistracting.

Benedict giggled at something he probably said in his head, you chuckled when he burped, he did too, only Anthony didn't.

" Don't you have a date tommorow with Mr. Dorset ? " Benedict craned his neck to get a view of you, two Bridgerton's eyes were too much to take as you thought hard, well yes a date, with Mr. Dorset, yes, you did remember.

" Ofcourse." You said, Anthony drifted a turn that jerked your head forward and you would have got a concussion if it wasn't his big palm that came for rescue.

" Are you okay ? " He asked, slowing down the car as his fingers pushed you back until the back of your head was pressed against the seat.

" Yeah." You confirmed, nothing was more threatening than his touch. He should bloody know that.

" Are you okay ? " Benedict mimicked and you realised he was down there, squashed on the car floor, his face hidden somewhere.

Anthony ignored him as his expressions hardened, he was breathing hard as he worried his lips, thinking and thinking.

" You do know it might take all day." Anthony finally said and you cocked your head to his side, you were drunk and well, sleepy too.

" What ? Well, it's a dinner date." You assured, Mr. Dorset wasn't letting go and a Thai curry wouldn't hurt anyway.

" Yes well, it might be very late." He was frowning now, his eyes were on the road but he would glance between nano seconds.

" Really ? " You pouted, you were way too gone now, it didn't matter, Anthony's eyes stopped at your lips and when he looked up, something changed, like it must have changed a long ago but it's colours were only visible now, like moon hiding behind the clouds, beaming but not seen and when it's finally high, hanging at sky, you blinked, expecting it to be gone, like everything, but when you opened your eyes, it was still there, as clear as ever, shimmering at you. That's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Yes.." Anthony gulped hard, pulling at Benedict's apartment, how much he wanted sophie to built a home with him, soon, you thought, soon.

" Oi y/n, I think I found your lipstick." Benedict hopped up, his face had lines where because he didn't bother to get up once he had fallen, with a shade that you never used in your whole lifetime, Anthony looked away when you tried to catch his eyes.

" That's not mine." You said, feeling anger creep up your neck, not knowing why, it's not that you were the only one who sat in his car and ofcourse you weren't his girlfriend, you weren't his friend even, he was your boss, you were his assistant, that's it, that's fucking it, you really wanted to punch his face, that's bloody alcohol, you would never drink again.

" Benedict, my brother." Anthony took the lipstick away which Benedict was trying to apply on himself, " get the fuck out."

" Goodbye to you too brother." He leaned to smooch Anthony when he hastily pulled away, growling.

" Bye bye sweetheart." Benedict smooched your cheek then and his lips only touched your warm skin before Anthony pushed him back in the back seat, it was, kinda rough.

" You are drunk." He told Benedict who shrugged, blinking heavily.

"He always kissed me goodbye." You glared at Anthony, this freaking bastard, chew on your lipstick, Idiot. You leaned down to kiss Benedict's cheek and he giggled softly, eyes locked with Anthony, his wide bastard grin flashing, glittering as Anthony eye rolled.

When Benedict was dropped, it was your turn, Anthony stared ahead like a statue, you were suffering in your own head.

The silence became heavy in air as the music was either tragic or too loud for your head and Anthony sensed the discomfort, turning it off altogether.

" What are we going to do actually? Venue deciding or something." You finally spoke, remembering how much you stared and stared when the article popped up, Anthony bridgerton looking for a wife !! You remembered the qualification list, should be well spoken, should be linguistic, should want kids, should be family loving, should be this, should be that, should have good enough hips to bear a child like what ?!

You remembered days and days when he would have his appointments, yes appointments, most of times he was out within five minutes, a frown on his face.

" She doesn't know algebra." He said one time when he came out within two minutes and you shrugged, well algebra was hard afterall.

And now Miss Edwina had ended all your miseries and torture, no lists, no more algebra's and Collen Hoover's, nothing of that anymore, Anthony would be a husband soon and perhaps he would love her, or already love her, he was so determined even when Kate sharma threatened to cut deals with Aubreyton if didn't stop sending flowers, well that was your doing, sending flowers because it was your idea, but well, it didn't matter.

" Well not the venue, but wedding ring and wedding dresses, Mother say we match and cake tasting and flowers—" we.

" When's the wedding ? " You looked at him scornfully, Anthony's eyes lowered at you as he stopped the car.

" Next week." Fuck you Anthony!

" Shouldn't you decide that with Miss Edwina herself ? " You were glad, but you had this feeling that he would be taken away from you, once married, he might not be yours, he was never yours, but still, why not start now ?

He frowned like it wasn't the most sensible and obvious thing.

" I..." He hesitated, " Miss Edwina might not want to go, since the wedding is too near and also, to keep it a private engagement."

" Oh." You didn't get a thing, your mind wasn't working as Anthony leaned down to open your door, you freezed, only your heart thudded loudly, could he hear ? What he did to you, well it wouldn't surprise you if he knew and still chose to torture your poor soul. " Why not state it publicly ? "

" I can't deal with the fanfictions." He said in matter of factly way. " And paparazzi giving Edwina trouble." Don't say her name, don't.

" Fanfictions ?! " You laughed so loud that he actually stopped thinking whatever he was, and just looked at you, as if taking in every detail, savouring them, drinking every bit of you in, he looked like he was mesmerized but that was just alcohol, just your silly heart, just you, who had read all those one shots, about you and him, ofcourse you weren't going to admit it and ofcourse you would be quite dammed if you ever saw Anthony getting shipped with Edwina Sharma, they are getting married in a week idiot, yes, but not today, not now, later, when it was time, please, not now. Later, now he was yours.

" You have a good choice either way." He was, for no reason, walking you to your door, you remembered how Benedict was practically kicked out earlier, he would tease you so much if you were to ever tell him.

" Oh please." You chuckled, rubbing your hands together in the chilly air, " I gifted Benedict onesies on his birthday."

Anthony smiled, it didn't leave his face until he caught you staring and you noticed how different he looked, when those lines were of joy instead of worry, he looked young and his boyishness made your heart do cartwheels.

" That was just a joke." He amused, " wasn't it ? " His smile faltered when you shaked your head in a no, fumbling for you keys.

" It wasn't so bad." Anthony said, somewhat traumatised, " Benedict wore them anyway."

" It had penguins ! " You cringed at the memory, a drunkish Polaroid like, blurred and saturated, it was vivid but just like yesterday, Anthony didn't dance until you were both so drunk, perhaps he smiled back than too, and looked just as dazzling.

" You are good y/n." Anthony said sincerely, " stop being mean to yourself." You opened the door but your hands freezed at the doornob, why Anthony had to cut the right wires, why he had to upside down your whole world ?

" Well, same to you Anthony." You said, he lingered on the doorway more than he should, it was alcohol, it really, really was but no amount of gaslighting could blur the memory away, you always remembered how brave you were that night when you leaned down, one step not much, and placed a small, chaste kiss, just a brush of your lips against his blazing skin. A touch to his soul, it sparkled and rose and busted into a thousand orbs and sprinkled like glitters on you and him.

" Good night." You whispered, Anthony stared, too stunned to say anything, then he smiled, small and enchanting.

" Good night y/n." His smile stayed.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 16: Teatime

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: 18+ - explicit sexual content, drug use Word count: 4.4k

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The next day Aubrey Hall continued to teem with activity under the watchful eyes of the Duke and Duchess. Benedict notified Mr. Dewitt that Sophie would be retained as a member of the housekeeping staff during the country visit. If the steward had any thoughts about the whiplash instructions he was receiving in regards to the newly arrived maid, he was wise enough not to betray them. 

Benedict’s mind hadn’t stopped whirring since his encounter with Sophie in the drawing room the previous day. After returning from the lake, his sister gave no indication that she suspected anything untoward. It seemed their secret was safe. But how much longer could they carry on like this, sneaking through hallways in the dead of night, scurrying into unoccupied rooms? The risk of their discovery would increase tenfold when the family and guests started to arrive. Sophie was correct that they would need to actively avoid one another. He hadn’t even contemplated what would happen at the conclusion of his family’s hosting duties when he would be expected to return to London. 

In the midst of his colliding thoughts, all he could think of was his need for Sophie; his yearning to watch her lips part as he made her gasp, his hunger to make her come apart, his ache to hold her in his arms. He set up an easel in his bedchamber and tried to unleash his feelings on a canvas, but found himself lost in daydreams of her. Rash as it may have been, he sent word to the kitchen specifically requesting that Sophie bring him his tea.

His heart bounded when she opened the door, tray balanced on her hip as he had seen her so many times before while convalescing. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight streaming through the windows. 

She set the tea tray on a table and curtsied. “Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Sophie.” Her name left his lips with a sigh of relief. “Are we not done with formalities when we are alone together?”

She returned a coy smile. “Very well, Ben. I assume you summoned me for a reason. Would you like me to sit for my portrait?”

He stepped toward her, feeling a stab of guilt that he could never seem to concentrate long enough in her presence to complete his work. “I certainly intend to finish your portrait. That is a gift I promised you. But I’m afraid my thoughts are too preoccupied to give it the attention it deserves at the moment.

“Preoccupied?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as he closed the distance between them and ran his knuckles across her cheek.

“Anticipation of my family’s arrival. And thoughts of you. Knowing we must keep our distance once they arrive.” 

“Yes, we must.” Sophie swallowed, feeling the familiar bloom of heat just from his proximity. 

“But we have today.” Benedict nuzzled against her cheek, delighting in her scent, the faintest hint of amber and vanilla. 

Sophie’s eyes rolled closed and she grew pliant in his arms, but her mind still registered the risk of their encounters. “The Duke and Duchess…”

“Are calling at Romney Hall nearby,” he explained. “My sister is a friend of Lady Crane. She is ill and won’t be able to attend the visit.”

“The children?”

Benedict snickered. “Are with their army of nurses. The time is ours.” He pressed his lips to hers, soft and plush, and she was bereft of any further protest. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to…join me in calming my thoughts?”

“How do you mean?” Sophie asked, noting the mischievous flicker across his features, his crooked grin triggering a spark of excitement.

“An elixir procured by my younger brother in his travels. Whatever it may be, I find it both soothes the nerves and opens my mind to artistic inspiration. When paired with a canvas it helps me produce some of my most…experimental work.” He ran a hand gently through her hair, gazing at her as if she were his greatest muse. “It’s an experience unlike any other, and one that I’d like to share with you, if you are willing.”

Sophie was surprised by his offer, that he was inviting her to join him in more than just carnal pleasures. She had never tried any such substances, but assumed the effects must be different than strong drink. On a few occasions she had indulged enough to experience drunkenness with her fellow servants, usually on holidays. She found the sensation not unpleasant, a numbing carefree haze, but it did have a way of stealing joy from the following day when she would wake with a headache and bitter mouth. But she trusted Benedict implicitly. He would ensure her enjoyment as he introduced her to something new.

“How does one take this elixir?” She asked.

“A powder added to tea.” He wiggled his eyebrows and moved about the room, producing a small pouch from a drawer in his writing desk and shaking it playfully before resting it beside the teapot. “Medicinal in a way not unlike your tinctures, but entirely unique.”

Nodding her consent, Sophie sat across from Benedict at the small table and watched as he poured them each a cup of tea and added small spoonfuls of the pouch’s vibrant purple powder. He stirred and handed her the mixture, insisting she take the first sip. Tentatively, she brought it to her lips.

“You may wish to hold your nose,” Benedict coached. “The smell and taste can be a bit foul.”

Sophie did detect a whiff of something pungent, vegetal but charred somehow. Holding her breath, she took a full sip and scrunched up her face as the aftertaste withered her tongue.

“Ugh,” she grimaced as Benedict giggled. “You claim this makes you feel better?”

“Give it a moment,” he grinned. “You will see.”

___

In what felt like no time at all, Sophie became aware of her altered state. A single cup of Benedict’s mystery tea and she found herself able to count the motes of dust that floated in the shafts of sunlight. As opposed to the numbing effect of alcohol, she found her mind and body heightened in awareness. She was fascinated by the friction of her dress against her skin, the tactile surface of the table and the fine china, and the colors of the fabrics throughout the room. Having drunk his own cup, Benedict seemed to be fixated on color too. After ensuring she was feeling well, he had gone to his easel and was blending oil paints directly with his fingers on both palette and canvas, making sweeping motions with his arms, entirely lost to inspiration. 

Sophie didn’t know how long she lazed in her chair watching him. The tea made time seem untrackable and irrelevant. She certainly did feel her nerves calmed and mind opened. She was content to simply gaze at Benedict, the man she secretly loved, drinking in the sight of him and every feature she adored. His tousled dark hair, his animated brow, pale blue eyes locked on his work, lopsided smirk appraising what he was crafting. Her focus narrowed to the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the tendons flexing in his muscular neck, and the veins surging in his paint-streaked forearms. He had rolled his sleeves to the elbows but was otherwise fully dressed in a floral patterned waistcoat and pinned cravat, and for some reason this struck her as aggravating. With every inch of her skin sensitized in a way she had never known before, she wanted to touch and be touched, to taste and be tasted, to learn what it felt like to ascend to the plane of bliss when she already felt herself high above any clouds.

With a boldness that surprised even herself she rose, marched to Benedict’s side, took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. Light danced behind her eyelids as the sweet flavor of his lips cascaded over her own. Benedict froze, holding his hands to either side so as not to cover her in paint.

Sophie pulled back and they both chuckled, heady with the closeness of each other as much as with the tea. Kissing him again, she found herself entirely absent of inhibition. With his hands unavailable she was in control and the realization was undeniably thrilling. There was something she had been longing to try and now was the perfect moment.

Continuing to savor him, her hands went to work unwinding his cravat. Benedict stood still, humming in amusement as they kissed. Once the fabric was in her hands, cool and slippery, she moved to stand behind him. On tiptoe she wrapped the dark blue silk around his eyes and knotted it in the back.

“Blind man’s bluff?” Benedict quipped, sounding befuddled.

“Shh.” Sophie giggled as she moved back to face him and contemplated her next move. The buttons on his waistcoat were slowly unfastened and the garment slipped carefully over his technicolor arms and onto the floor. Biting her lip, she snapped his braces against his chest causing him to gasp before she pulled them down from his shoulders. Next was his shirt. Sophie could hear him breathing harder as she pulled the hem from his waistband. She leaned to his ear and whispered, “Raise your arms.”

Giving himself over to her direction, Benedict grinned uncontrollably as she undressed him. He did as he was told, lifting his arms in front of himself to accommodate her height and she pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room. He stood before her blindfolded and shirtless, chest heaving, trousers jutting out unnaturally with his stiffness. Feeling more seductive than ever before, she traced a finger from his jaw down his neck, chest and abdomen, admiring. He was muscled, athletic, and his pale skin was so soft, smelling of soap and his oil paints. Sophie knelt down to pull off his boots, running her hand lightly down the front of his trousers on her way, causing him to hiss from the sensation.

“Lift your feet.” He obeyed and she pulled off his boots and stockings. Sophie remembered the night at the inn where she had awkwardly relieved him of his clothing out of necessity. This was a decidedly more pleasurable echo of that encounter. They were both breathing quite hard now, knowing there was only one more garment left to remove. Sophie remained on her knees and reached up, slowly unbuttoning his trousers. His hands clenched into fists and she could see him gritting his jaw. She smiled as she slid the last of his clothes down and bid him to step out of them. Now he was nude and erect with anticipation. She delayed a moment, waiting to strike. She would surprise him. She knew he was expecting her hands; how she usually touched him. She would skip that step.

Benedict gasped as her hot, wet mouth encircled him. It was a shock to his system, standing naked and blind in excruciating silence, broken suddenly by his cock being devoured. He reached out to hold her head but she swatted his hand away, reminding him of how soiled they were. Groaning through clenched teeth he fought to stand still and just let her have her way with him. It was agony and paradise combined, a flood of feelings as his swirling senses honed in on her attentions. The minx inside sweet Sophie had been unleashed by the tea and he was both proud and humbled that she was offering her own form of experimentation to match his. 

At long last Sophie was fulfilling her wish to take Benedict in her mouth, to show him just how fervently she longed to please him, to worship his body as he had worshipped hers. She found the act surprisingly enjoyable, knowing the power she wielded from her knees. Hearing the needy sounds he made and looking up to see his mouth hung open with awe gave her her own satisfaction in turn. After a few pulls along his manhood she leaned back. “How is this, Ben? Inspirational?” She flicked her tongue across his tip.

He groaned, legs buckling. “Yes, Sophie. It’s…you’re wonderful. Just…just like this. Your lips are like the kiss of heaven.” She chuckled, knowing he would likely spout something poetic even if they were not under the influence. Motivated to push him even higher into the firmament, she leaned forward to consume him again. She tried different motions, licking and sucking, back and forth, her tongue dancing around his veins, her hand rising to join her mouth in stroking. Whenever Benedict moaned above her, she persisted with that action. 

Then she tested herself, seeing how deeply she could take him. Slowly, she pushed further and further toward his body, pulling him into her mouth, relaxing every muscle she knew how. She knew he was in her throat once she could no longer breathe. An odd, somewhat alarming sensation but she felt in control. Staying relaxed she began to move gently, sucking him as before, letting him penetrate an entirely new area of her body. Having the most intimate part of him warm and heavy in her mouth was a comfort and sin she could never have imagined.

Benedict positively shouted with surprise as he breached Sophie’s throat. He instinctively tore the cravat from his eyes, looked down and saw her face practically flush with his pelvis, eyes closed in concentration as she rocked back and forth. He was buried so deep that when she finally gagged, he felt as if he were swallowed, squeezed with a pressure and heat that threatened to topple him. He shuddered, mind gone completely blank. Sophie pulled back and came up for air, gasping after his entire length slid out of her beautiful mouth. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and smiled up at him, looking proud of herself.

“Sophie Beckett, you marvelous creature,” he beamed down at her. With a smug gleam in her eyes she set herself on him again and Benedict rocketed skyward. He murmured praise and suggestions, hips beginning to thrust as she sucked him eagerly. She had a natural talent with her tongue that he knew was liable to destroy him. The warmth of her mouth, the suction of her lips, the challenge in her dewy eyes gazing up at him, it grew too much to bear. As he felt himself nearing the peak he pulled back.

“Sophie, I’m…I am nearly there.”

“Good,” she smiled, tearing away the collar of her uniform and beginning to loosen her frock. Benedict watched, agog as she undressed, stripping down to the waist. Then she wrapped a warm hand around his length and began to pump, her breasts bare and bobbing hypnotically as she stroked him. Whatever fire had been lit within her, he vowed to keep it tended. Gazing at each other open mouthed, she commanded him softly but intently. “Come on me.”

Seeing and hearing how hungry she was for his release brought it to fruition in a moment. Knowing nothing but the wave of ecstasy beginning to spasm through his body, Benedict needed to stabilize himself before he jettisoned off of the earth. His hands fell to Sophie’s shoulders and gripped tight, smearing her in a rainbow of fingerprints as he dropped his head with a cry. Painting her in two ways at once, his breath escaped in halting gasps as she milked him onto her chest. 

Sophie never stopped her movements, coaxing him through the aftershocks. When Benedict fell to his knees before her panting, she grinned with devilish victory. She was just as capable of reducing him to a breathless mess as he could her. It made her feel closer to him, more trusted, and more desirable.

“Sophie,” Benedict marveled at her, barely able to muster words. “I’m sorry. Your shoulders…”

He pointed at the streaks that ran across her skin. She looked down and saw the epaulets she had earned. Bright ornaments of sinful endeavors. The fingerprints of her lover seared into her for all to see. The whole room was twinkling in a dazzling spectrum before her eyes and she felt honored to be made a part of it. With a twist of her lips she collected the palette he had dropped nearby and dipped her fingers into a sky blue shade, then swiped it gently across his abdomen, coloring him as well.

Benedict looked at her quizzically, then she ran a purple thumb across his jaw. Catching on, he wet his fingers in forest green and brushed them across her cheeks. Giggling, Sophie next took a daub of orange and swirled it in circles across her chest, blending it with his seed, painting herself with his essence. Benedict swallowed hard, dumbfounded, and then found himself moving like a man possessed, stripping her of her remaining clothing, hauling her up onto the settee and burying his face between her legs. 

The day progressed as a gauzy fantasy, the two of them wrapped in intoxicated wonder and all the sensations they could gift each other. They lost count of their climaxes, Sophie returning time and time again to swallow Benedict and bob her head until he gasped her name, and Benedict on his knees in equal measure, sucking her furiously as she bounced against his tongue. After the poetry they penned with their moans, they broke to make art with their flesh, painting arcs, swirls and handprints across skin, gradients of desire and whimsy, blending with their own juices, traces of themselves ending up on the canvas which had clattered to the floor.

Hours later as the sun began to set, they found themselves looking like madmen, wrapped in sheets, disheveled and covered in streaks of paint from head to toe. Benedict had the presence of mind to wrap Sophie in one of his shirts and hide her in the bedroom next door while he donned a robe and called for a bath. He didn’t much care what the maids thought of seeing him smeared with paint with his hair standing on end. It wouldn’t be the first time he had ended up like this after a dose of the powder.

Working together and casting him sideways glances, Finian and Lizzie brought a large copper tub to his room and filled it with steaming water. Lizzie scented it with oil and a sudsy soap that left bubbles floating on the surface. When they finally exited, Benedict collected Sophie again and locked the door behind them. She giggled helplessly while he stripped her of what little she was wearing and helped her step into the steaming water. She shivered and sank down, allowing the water to rise above her shoulders and neck, even right up to her nose, and then closed her eyes. It felt like heaven.

“Lean forward,” Benedict murmured, kneeling on the floor beside her. She did, and sighed with pleasure as he began to wash her back, making clouds of red and yellow paint swirl into the water. 

“We’ll make you all shiny and new again,” he grinned, kissing her shoulder as he scrubbed her arms. Sophie leaned forward and rested her forehead on her bent knees, blushing.

“Dunk your head so I can wash your hair,” he ordered.

She slid under the water, a magical, enveloping sensation while she still felt the fuzzy influence of the tea, and then quickly came back up. 

The green streaks of paint on her cheeks started to run down the length of her face. But rather than make her look wretched, Benedict thought it gave her a phantasmal beauty. It made her eyes glow as he had never seen them - glittering emeralds refracting all the light in the room. He rubbed the paint from her face with his thumb as she held his gaze. He suddenly found that it was hard to breathe. Probably a side effect of the tea. 

He busied himself by rubbing the bar of soap in his hands and then began to work the lather through her hair. “Do you prefer your hair short?” he asked.

“I had to cut it,” she said. “I sold it to a wigmaker.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have heard him growl.

“It used to be much shorter,” she added.

“Back under.” 

She dunked back in the tub, swirling her head this way and that under the water before coming back up for air. 

Benedict cupped his hands and filled them with water. “You’ve still got some in the back,” he said, letting the water pour over her hair.

Sophie let him repeat the process a few times, until all the paint was removed as far as she could tell and the water had turned a milky purple. “Aren’t you coming in?” She raised an eyebrow and was met with that cheeky lopsided grin.

Benedict let his robe fall to the floor and stepped in across from her. He groaned with pleasure as he lowered himself, immediately dunking under the water and smoothing back his hair. Sophie took the cloth and went to work scrubbing his fingers, his arms, every inch of him. Their incessant giggling was fading into pleasurable hums and sighs as they caressed each other in the water, gently, curiously. They kissed each other’s necks, arms, foreheads. There was a chastity to it despite that they were fully nude together after an outrageously lascivious afternoon.

Sophie was drained. It had been without a doubt the wildest and most exploratory day of her life thus far. She knew she was still under the giddy haze of the tea but her senses were growing sharper. Time slowly seemed to be returning to its normal rate and her mind was quieting. The last of its effects, the joy of being with Benedict, and the warmth of the lapping water made her euphoric. Benedict had leaned back against his end of the tub, eyes closed. Sophie couldn't stretch out her legs underwater without awkwardly laying on top of him, so she planted her feet to frame his head which made him look up and chuckle. She grinned and bent an elbow over the side, resting her head on her arms. Benedict ran his hands lazily over her knees and the two of them sat in contented silence, descending from their high and soaking up all the heat the water could offer.

Benedict stared at Sophie, resting serenely as glinting water droplets ran across her collarbone. She was dazzling. Never a word that he had thought to associate with a housemaid but it was truly how he felt. Where in the world had she come from? This beautiful, daring and exciting woman whose wit, moods, pleasures and interests so perfectly aligned with his own? He genuinely wondered if she had worked in the Cavender house at all and wasn’t some faerie that had wandered out of the woods to enchant him. These days alone with her in the country had been some of the happiest he had experienced with a woman. He was ready to find her an apartment in London, to send her there with an allowance to buy anything she fancied, and to have all of her servant’s clothes burned. He could do it tomorrow. She shouldn’t spend another day working for his family.

“Why do you want to keep working at this ball?” He asked her.

Sophie lifted her head, brow furrowed. “So I can earn some money.”

Benedict sat up and leaned toward her. “You don’t need to earn money. I’ll take care of you.” He pressed his torso against hers and murmured, “I can give you whatever you want.”

Whether it was her pride or some courage gifted to her by the tea, Sophie felt no fear in being honest with him. “I don’t want you to.” Her voice was more stern than she had intended and he scowled. 

“Why can’t we just stay like this? Have this time together?” She nuzzled against his neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips. This was everything she wanted, or at least everything that she could reasonably have with Benedict. She would never experience her dreams of marrying him, or walking on his arm in public, or being with him forever. But she could have these days, weeks or even months if she were lucky, where they enjoyed each other’s company and bodies, and she was grateful for it. Incredibly grateful. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to her dreams than she could have ever imagined over the past two years. She would cherish these days forever, but she refused to hinge her hopes or her future on them, when they would never lead to anything.

“I don’t want to be kept somewhere,” she confessed. “Locked in a pretty box for you to play with.”

Benedict pulled back, looking insulted. “Why?”

Sophie sighed, overcome with the weight of her emotions and a wave of approaching sleep. “Because it can’t last forever and I will need work to fall back on.” She rested her head back on her arms and closed her eyes. “You must tell me once you find her,” she sighed.

Benedict looked at her, startled. Find who? Surely she didn’t know about…

As if reading his mind Sophie continued, mumbling. “The woman you will marry. So that I will know to leave. Promise me, Ben.” Her head lolled as she drifted off, her last words barely above a whisper. “I cannot share you.”

Something in Benedict’s chest clenched and again he found himself struggling to breathe. Suddenly the thought of not having Sophie around was unsettling. More unsettling than it should have been for having known her such a short time. She didn’t want to share him with his wife. Did she mean to reveal that to him or did it slip out? He couldn’t tell how it made him feel. Once again he knew she was right. He doubted he could sustain a life as a bachelor chasing after a maid who refused to be kept as a mistress. He would need to marry. Hell, a part of him wanted to marry. It was who that was the problem. He couldn’t find the lady in silver but knew that if he ever did and if she would have him, he would marry her and then there would be no room for Sophie. It made him sad and it made him confused and he was so damned tired. So he resigned himself to following Sophie’s lead and just enjoying the time they had together, for however long it lasted.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove @chase-your-dreams-away

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Why so Early?

Reimagining An Offer from a Gentleman #4

Synopsis: Benedict is hungry. Sophie is hungrier. What more is there to say? Or the first time Sophie takes matters into her own hands. Quite literally.

⚠️ SMUT SMUT SMUT? First time writing original smut. Is it smutty enough? Is this even a smut? I really don’t know. But this one is just cute and slutty. Or is it…? I’m spiraling. Hope you enjoy🥰

Post on AO3 from here!

Benedict felt quite dazed, lost in the afterglow of their lovemaking. But he knew he had to go again, with his newlywed wife laid elegantly naked before him, spread across his master bed like a forbidden fruit, ready to be devoured again. Sophie was still breathless and in raptures, not quite recovering from the sweet ecstasy Benedict had brought her to from their climax. But he knew that it wasn’t enough. Still feeling the intense heat of his body, his hands again wandered between her legs, wanting to taste more, ravish more.

More, more. Again Again.

After a rushed wedding and a small reception, Benedict and Sophie had turned straight back to Wiltshire, setting their way to my cottage. To avoid the rumors, he heard other people say, but Benedict was just happy to finally have Sophie all to himself. The last few days, he had hardly time to see her, with his mother and sisters hovering over her, dragging his to-be-wife across London shop after shop.

“Please, there’s no need to spend such fortune on me, Lady Bridgerton,” He heard Sophie whimper so many times as Benedict chuckled over his tea.

“Nonsense,” Violet had reassuringly replied every time. “You are already my daughter, my dear. You must have another dress for the reception. And you must call me Violet….”

But with the marital vows made(with floods of tears from Sophie, Benedict, Violet, and somehow Anthony) and the wedding cake finished (mostly by Colin), the two finally made their way to Wiltshire (despite angry tears from Hyacinth; how dare you take away my Sophie! I OBJECT to the marriage, Mother…”)The moment the carriage arrived in front of my cottage, Benedict had scooped Sophie off her seat and simply carried to his master bedroom, and settled her against the pillow and the sheets.

“Benedict!!” Sophie giggled as he nuzzled her neck, softly pushing her against the mattress.

“Do you have a problem, dear wife?”

“We have to greet Mrs. And Mr. Crabtree properly…” Her voice changed into a suppressed moan as Benedict nipped the edge of her ears. He slid his hands to her back, gently undoing the knots and the ribbons of her dress.

Buttons are so much easier, Benedict mindlessly thought as he skillfully pulled down her bodice, remembering the first time he had almost taken her down on the ground.

“But we greeted them at the door, my dear.”

“Benedict, I barely saw their faces!”

Satisfied with his handiwork (Sophie was now only in her chemise), he softly cupped her breasts over the thin fabric, his fingers softly teasing the tip of her bosom. He grinned as she mewled and squirmed under his touch, but he knew she still resisted to what would soon overflow.

“But Benedict, it’s disrespectful…”

She tugged his shirt in meaningless defiance, but of course, Benedict guilelessly removed his jacket and cravat; swiftly peeling off his shirt and onto the floor.

“But I’ll be disrespectful toward you, my dear.”

“I don’t feel disrespected at all, Benedict.”

“My dear, dear wife,” He whispered to her in his low seductive voice, which he knew would melt her in a puddle,

“It would be disrespectful to you if I didn’t fulfill my marital duties, is it not?”

It was the first night of their honeymoon, and as a husband should, he ravished her through and through, taking her down from front to back, sinking her into the sheets, sinking himself inside her warmth. With two years’ worth of dreaming in fantasy, of desperate craving, how many times he pounded inside her, it never seemed enough. Sophie was barely keeping up, the overwhelming sensation that fired inside her, the boundless hunger Benedict held was beyond her limits, beyond her imagination.

Although Benedict had taken her several times before the marriage, he had always been the sweet gentle lover, slowly guiding and leading her to pleasure and ecstacy. But in their marital bedroom, Benedict was like a man possessed, almost feral, desperate to mark her as his own. Sophie finally understood the depth of his appetite, the depth of his desire, the depth of his love towards her, and she tried her best to respond to his blazing devotion, but she could not think, or think at all. She could only but clutch tightly around his arms, bearly breathing between gasps and moans.

----------------------------------------------------

“Did I hurt you, Sophie?”

Sophie smiled softly as her husband asked her hesitantly with a slightly guilty look on his face. His fingers softly caressed her cheeks, and Sophie softly nuzzled her cheeks on his hands, enjoying his warmth.

“How could you ever hurt me, dear husband?”

“Did I go too rough on you?”

But Sophie laughed wholeheartedly, placing a small peck on his flushed cheeks.

“It was lovely, Benedict.”

Tired and breathless, but immensely satisfied, Ben softly wrapped his arms around his wife, cuddling her against her body. Finally finding the covers pooled around the foot of the bed, Benedict pulled them over their embraced bodies.

The woman in his dreams finally in his arms. Sophie Beckett, no, Sophie Bridgerton finally inside his embrace. Benedict smiled in contentment as he finally let his back rest against the sheets.

“I love you, Sophie.”

He softly whispered to her, placing a small kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too Benedict.”

At last, Benedict closed his eyes, feeling happier than he ever did before.

But he also did feel Sophie softly climbing on his thighs. He opened his eyes in surprise, and Benedict saw Sophie softly place her lips on his, timidly tickling the corner of his mouth, slightly hesitant about where it may lead. Benedict smiled softly, happiness bubbling up to him furthermore, enjoying the slightly tottering kisses Sophie was initiating. After all, he had always been the one who was stealing (and sometimes begging for) kisses, and he was pleasantly surprised by Sophie who had been so bashful from the beginning to initiate a kiss. But he was quite sleepy.

It was a perfect sweet kiss, and Benedict slowly closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, thinking how wonderful it is to sleep with the comfortable weight his wife of over his body, her smooth skin laid against his….

“Benedict,”

Benedict jerked awake, slightly lifting himself from the bedsheets as Sophie whispered his name breathlessly in his ear, her fingers softly running through his brow curls. His heart pounded as he saw the continuing flame in Sophie’s deep green eyes when he just managed to crack open his drowsy heavy eyes.

“My sweet, sweet, Benedict.”

Sophie cooed seductively as she put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even further. Try what he does to you, the wicked devil in her mind whispered to her. She softly trailed the edge of his lips with her tongue, thoroughly enjoying the sweet taste. Gently nipping his bottom lip with her mouth, her kisses moved from his chin to his jaw, and slowly moved to his neck, softly nuzzling his nape with her lips. Sandalwood and soap, the familiar smell seemed to fuel her fire even more.

Benedict groaned as Sophie placed a small kiss on the edge of his collarbone, her hands softly fondling his nipples. He softly snaked his arms around her waist, gently pushing her closer to him; encouraging her to continue the tender exploration Sophie was doing to his body, but he was, still a little sleepy.

So warm, so beautiful, Sophie thought as she ran her hands across his chiseled body, caressing the strong arms that held her tight, that loved and ravished her with all his might. Slowly, she let her hands wander lower and lower until they reached his thighs. She found herself shamelessly staring at his figure, the place she thought she would never experience in all her life.

I need to wake him up.

Her delicate fingers softly touched the tip of his manhood. His body jerked at her touch and she softly smiled, the power she had over his robust body was empowering, but she had learned from the past hours that this was not enough.

“Benedict”

Benedict could swear he saw her lick her lips ever so slightly as she whispered breathlessly,

“I want you…to get it up.”

Perhaps I have woken up the devil, he thought to himself, as she traced the outline of his length.

“Just once more, my love?”

The pure innocence in her tone, as if a little child were asking for another bite of chocolate. But the view in front of him was far from innocent, but right down erotic. Only white sheets gathered around her hips, Sophie was completely bare before him, glowing and shimmering under the moonlight. With her legs straddled over his thighs, her fingers softly caressing his heat, her face was flushed and breathless, her eyes burning with desire. Her presence alone would drive anyone to insanity; she was his Aphrodite, the goddess of love and lust, beauty and passion.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,

He found himself uttering those words under his breath, overcome with the sensation and the dreamlike scenery that was spread before his eyes,

“And I will pledge with mine;”

There was a soft smile on Sophie’s lips as she followed his voice. Ever the romantic, she softly thought.

“The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;”

Gently grinding herself against his thighs, she softly placed a small kiss on his heat. The soft stimulation she left choked him, leaving him panting, and breathless.

“But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.”

“Better than the kings of gods himself ?” Benedict tried to tease her newfound anticipation, trying to make a smirk, but he found himself gritting his teeth in a second, his hand tightly gripping the sheets of his bed as Sophie wrapped his manhood around her hands, slowly stroking his length.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,”

“Flesh stays no further reason but rising at thy name.”

“Sophie, please,”

“Did William Shakespeare compose of deceit?”

He wanted to reply, but he could only groan. The teasing grazings of her thumbs were agonizing, and he tilted his head against the pillow trying to find some kind of relief. She grinned somewhat mischievously.

“So much for men’s carnal lusts and appetites, isn’t it?”

“Please, just wait a moment, Sophie, I just need time to recover, no, I mean I can get it up, but it’s just that men need more time to…”

Benedict moaned as Sophie’s lips again teased his manhood, tenderly tracing his manhood with her tongue. Sophie softly smiled, feeling his hardness return against her lips.

“I need you, Benedict,” Sophie murmured breathlessly against his lips as she took his hand, placing them on her soft breasts, as her hip movements grew more erratic.

“Give me my sin again,”

All at once, Benedict realized that although he was a rather sturdy man, (and women in the past have praised/chastised his physical stamina), his vitality was nothing compared to his beautiful wife before him, who had spent a lifetime in manual labor, working from dawn to dusk.

While he liked to consider himself as a young man of thirty, Sophie was still two-and-twenty, finally letting herself sink in the carnal lust and appetite that Benedict had led her in, the place Sophie had relentlessly rejected and repressed for years. For the most heartbreaking reasons. She was learning the pleasures and the depth of her sexuality, and Benedict was more than welcome to assist. Sophie was finally letting it go, falling apart in front of his eyes.

And luckily, he was fully restored by this point.

Benedict softly placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her to his heat, a soft moan escaping from both lips as she sank herself into his arousal. He gently guided her hips forward and backward, leading to her sweet pleasure as Sophie gripped his neck.

“My heart, my body, is ever at your service, Sophie.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“I’ve never thought I would want this so much.” Sophie quietly said as she rested her head against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around her body. It was so peaceful and quiet that the moment almost felt ethereal, as she softly traced the lines of his rib cage, and his warm hands gently brushing her dark blond curls.

“By this do you mean my coc…”

“No! No! No! I meant….well, yes, but…”

Benedict chuckled as he planted a soft kiss on her ears that had turned bright red at his tease.

“I’ve…I’ve always been so terrified of it.”

Sophie’s voice was soft, almost like a prayer.

“It always felt so sinful, the ……craving desire I felt toward you. That I was going to drown myself in carnal flames, the sin of bearing another tragedy.”

Benedict tightened his embrace around her body. He knew that her thin ankles, her blistered hands and the remaining scars were a testament to her tragic past, and there was nothing he could do to erase her horrific memory. But he held on to her tight, wanting her to know that he was there by her side, she would never be alone again.

“But being in your arms, I never felt so pure.”

Benedict couldn’t see her face, her forehead nudged on his chest, but he knew she was crying softly, feeling the warm tears against his body. And somehow, his vision was beginning to become blurry as well.

“Sophie, can I ask you something?”

His voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.

“Of course, my love.”

“Why did you let me take you down on the sofa that day? If you were so scared of it?”

Sophie fell into silence, deeply sinking in thought.

Perhaps he should never have asked her that question. Perhaps she was regretting it, and he was the one pushing her to the sin that she feared for her whole life…

“Because I knew that you loved me, you foolish man,”

Sophie looked up at him with the most radiant smile he had ever seen, her moss-green eyes still shimmering with tears,

“And I loved you too,”

----------------------------------------------------

Benedict knew that it was a beautiful morning. Although feeling the soft sunlight pouring through the window against his back, he was not quite ready to open his eyes, wanting to stay in a peaceful slumber for a little while. He yawned and reached out his arms, trying to hold his dear wife in his arms again. He wanted to feel her warmth, and a wicked part of his mind yearned for Sophie to calm the wicked hunger he felt between his legs…

But his hands only felt the coldness of the silk sheets.

Benedict jerked awake, a slight panic taking over all his emotions.

Was it all a dream? The wedding? The cakes? The tears? The lady in Silver? Sophie Beckett? Had he been dreaming the most wonderful dream in his bedroom in my cottage?

Benedict leaped off the bed, grabbing a robe from his bedside. He looked out from the windows to the grounds but there was nobody in sight. The guest bedroom was empty as well, the bed furnished perfectly without a trace of being used, and Benedict felt a feeling of dread become stronger and stronger. The sitting room, the dining room, the library, nowhere he could find his wife, and he could feel his soul slowly descending into madness.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, there is no need for you to be in the kitchen! I’m handling everything perfectly at this moment, without your assistance!”

Mrs. Crabtree’s exasperated cry echoed through the hallway.

Mrs. Bridgerton. Mrs. Bridgerton. Sophie Bridgerton.

Benedict repeated his housekeeper’s voice repeatedly, a sense of relief spreading across his body.

So it isn’t a dream after all.

…But why was she in the kitchen?

Benedict dashed through the hallway to the servant’s halls, the conversation between Mrs. Crabtree and his wife becoming more audible.

“Mrs. Crabtree, please just let me take this..”

“Mrs. Bridgerton, how many times do I have to tell you to go back to your bedroom? You are the lady of the house…”

“Please Mrs.Crabtree, call me Sophie, not Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Judging from the grumbled tone of Mrs. Crabtree, Benedict assumed that the exchange of conversation had been going on for quite a while. As Benedict finally reached the door, he found his wife and Mrs. Crabtree desperately fighting over a tea tray.

“Oh, good morning Benedict!”

Sophie’s smile was so energetically cheerful.

“Mrs. Crabtree had made us such a beautiful breakfast, Benedict. I woke up rather early, so I wanted to be some help to Mrs. Crabtree…”

“I tried to stop her,” Mrs. Crabtree sent an apologetic look at Benedict, “I’ve tried to tell her that she does not need to lift a finger in this household…”

“Mrs. Crabtree.”

Benedict cut Mrs. Crabtree’s voice, completely aware that he was being rather rude. But it was the morning right after his wedding night. Mrs. Crabtree would surely understand, wouldn’t she?

“Might I borrow Mrs. Bridgerton for a while? Better get my wife off your hair for a while, perhaps for a few hours?”

“I see no problem there, Mr. Bridgerton.”

And in that moment Benedict again picked Sophie off her feet, carrying her over his shoulder. Sophie simply shrieked, her view had turned completely upside down.

“Benedict! But the tea! And the eggs! Anf the bacon! I was rather hungry this morning….”

“Newlyweds,” Mrs. Crabree sighed as she listened to the rhythmic thumping and uncomfortable racket above them. But Mr. Crabtree didn’t miss the small smile that crept up on her lips.

#Writer’s Notes

Ben Johnson and William Shakespeare.

I truly love your poems and plays.

You guys are geniuses; the masteries of words.

My writings are trash compared to your most beautiful, exquisite verses.

But I really know you guys were just SLUTS

Respect to the greatest sluts in England.

[silverhallow]

Accidents Happen

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

summary: Sophie and Benedict are roommates and when Benedict accidentally walks in on a rather private moment things get awkward between them until Benedict decides to act

warnings: masturbation, accidental voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, sofa sex, woman on top, teasing,

word count: 5012 words

author's note: this is just smut, no one asked for it but it’s roommates to lovers and my muse fancied writing it so I hope you enjoy it. It’s only going to be on here it’s not going on ao3.

Sophie had only been living with Benedict for four months, two weeks and three days when he walked in on her masturbating. He'd originally left with an overnight bag swinging from his arm and a casual comment thrown over his shoulder to let her know he was heading back to his mother’s for the weekend.

Not even ten minutes after he walked out the door she stripped down to her vest top and knickers, feeling an urgent need to relieve some of the tension that being around him regularly caused.

Everything about Benedict made him the perfect housemate, except for the fact that he was gorgeous. That had proven to be a distraction. His eyes and hair were a blue that made her want to get lost in them, along his addiction to rowing, combined with his job as a photographer and artist, helped maintain a long lean body. The playful way he had about him, from his sense of humour to his relaxed personality, pushed all the right buttons, and far more often than she wanted to admit.

She'd removed her bra and sat cross-legged on the sofa with a movie playing on TV for inspiration. Just as she really started getting into it, one hand inside her knickers and the other cupping the breast she'd tugged her top down to expose, Benedict barged into the flat rambling about having forgotten something.

He stopped mid-sentence and stared, his mouth opened, completely shocked as amusement filled his bright blue eyes.

Sophie seemed to recover first and screamed, "Oh my God, Oh, my God! Get out! Close your eyes! Stay there! Fuck! Just Fuck!" She scrambled to pull up her top and clamped her legs together, throwing the remote at him as a distraction while she sprinted from the room, mortified beyond belief.

Embarrassment swept over her again at the memory and she wondered for about the hundredth time whether she'd ever get over it, whether she needed to move out and just avoid him completely for the rest of her life.

She had to admit that she was lucky that she hadn't been calling out his name at the time. If he'd turned up a few seconds later it would have been a completely different story and she’d probably have left the country.

She sipped her glass of wine and stirred the sauce bubbling in the pot on the stove. It was already after seven. He'd be home any minute now.

Her exhibitionist moment had become that elephant in the room no one dared speak about but it was only a matter of time before he cracked and brought up the subject.

Since coming home from his weekend away a week ago he kept sending her amused glaces, seemed to confirm her hunch, the only reason he held back from talking about it was because it made her uncomfortable, it was making her squirm. This whole situation was entertaining for him.

Sophie heard the front door open and close and felt her heart hammering, she knew his routine, he usually headed down the hall to get rid of his art gear or his camera which ever he’d been using that day before he came looking for dinner. She took the pot of sauce off the hob and started to dish up.

Moments later he entered the kitchen, sending her a grin while he strolled across the tiled floor barefoot. She just knew every time he looked at her now he pictured that scene all over again.

"Hey," he said. He’d changed into a pair of shorts and a tight white t-shirt, showing his muscles off and making Sophie want to cry.

"Hi." Sophie smiled and met his eyes briefly. "Dinner's almost ready if you want to set the table."

She hated the way he made her feel, the way his chestnut hair gleamed almost red under the lights. He always looked so healthy and full of life while she felt like she was almost on the sickly side of skinny with mostly unremarkable features. Her only saving grace was a plump mouth tha, according to her last boyfriend, made her look like a pin up model when she wore red lipstick and a pair of breasts that were far too big for her frame.

Her job as a writer meant she sometimes worked from home so she'd thrown on an old grey t-shirt and black leggings this morning. Her feet were bare and her dark-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. A butterfly clip just barely held her messy blonde bun together at the back of her head. She felt like a complete tramp compared to Benedict.

When they were both sitting in the dining room near the window Sophie was barely paying attention as she speared a piece of chicken and shoved it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, then quickly replaced it with another to avoid having to talk to him. She figured she’d speed eat like she had done for the last few nights and she’d disappear back into her room.

She wanted things to return to normal between them, that they could go back to sharing their flirty ways, teasing and having fun together. They'd clicked from the moment they met when she was desperate for a place to live and Kate had known Benedict needed a roommate and someone to help cook for him.

But now it was just awkward and the fault lay entirely with her, he hadn't changed a bit, she’d been the cause of the change in their dynamic.

Her eyes remained directed at her plate, determined to get through the meal without speaking to him. It was only when Benedict let out a snort of amusement that she raised her head and looked at him.

"It's natural, you know," he said, his gaze roamed her face, taking everything inch of her in. "To want to do it, I mean. Everyone does it."

Sophie closed her eyes. "I don't want to talk about this, Ben."

"I know."

She opened her eyes and made herself look at him, incredulous that he was bringing it up. "Then why are you bringing it up?"

"Because we need to talk about it." He balanced his fork on the edge of his plate. "This is serious, the tension around here's putting me off my food, it was bad before Sophie but this… it’s getting ridiculous."

Can't we just pretend it never happened?" she asked hopelessly.

"Sophie, it did happen and it's not a big deal. You're the one that is turning it into one."

Her eyes widened in disbelief, "That's easy for you to say. How would you feel if I walked in on you…” she paused for a moment before continuing “you know… pleasuring yourself?"

"I don't know because it's never happened to me. I always go somewhere private to...pleasure myself." Sophie could hear the humour in his tone and wanted to cry. "I've never set myself up on the joint sofa before and just gone for it."

Oh, my God. If the humiliation at hearing his words wasn't enough now she had the image of him all aroused to contend with, too, this really was hell.

Sophie pushed her plate away feeling physically sick and started to bang her forehead gently against the table. "I'm just going to bang my head here until I knock myself out, okay? Then maybe i’ll wake up and this was just some horrible nightmare."

"Oh come on Soph." His amusement only made the situation that much worse and honestly she was questioning why couldn't she be the mature one here? The one to just talk about it and clear the air and make things right. She was supposed to be the grown up one in this flat.

Sophie had her eyes closed but she heard the chair legs scraping against the floor then felt his hand wrapped around her upper arm. He tugged her reluctantly into a standing position, she knew he wanted to talk about it rather than eat his dinner and given she’d made one of his favourites in an attempt to distract her, made her realise just how determined he was to fix this problem.

She opened her eyes and looked up to stare up at him, blown away by the jolt of awareness she experienced, how close they were, how she could see the little flecks of light blue in his eyes, the black of his eyes seemed to smoulder.

"Why does it bother you so much?" he asked as his brows pulled together as he studied her, curious as to why this was really bothering her so much. Hoping that it meant what he hoped it would.

"Is it really that hard to understand? You saw me with my hand in my… you know…, Benedict. You saw my boobs, too." She turned her head and her entire body as she stared out the window, wishing she could be anywhere other than here.

She didn’t want to be reliving and talking about the most embarrassing moment in her entire life.

“I only saw one boob," he corrected. "Albeit, a very...very nice one."

Her eyes flicked back to his eyes to check whether he was making fun of her but his compliment appeared to be sincere and she felt herself flush, "Thank you," she said.

"No, thank you."

A reluctant smile appeared on her lips, the compliment had caught her off guard and made her realise that she should have talked about it with him when it actually happened instead of leaving it to him to address the issue. It would have been a lot easier and possibly a lot less painful.

"It just feels like I'm at a disadvantage. You saw me during a very private moment. Which I know you think it's funny but I don't like you having that over me."

His mouth turned up at one corner, a smirk crossing his lips, playful and teasing as he asked "You want me to wank off in front of you to make things even?"

Her stomach fluttered at the thought, she felt herself growing wet at the thought of it even if he was joking to lighten the mood, she went to open her mouth, the word she knew what she wanted to utter, but all that came out was “erm….” as she gave a tentative and embarrassed smile

Benedict let out a bark of laughter, “I can't believe it. You actually want me to wank off in front of you”

Sophie kept her eyes on him and her mouth shut, waiting not wanting to give into her baser urges to herself, she refused to get herself in any deeper without some indication that he felt even a tiny portion of the attraction that tormented her on a daily basis.

He watched her and the humour slowly slipped from his expression, his eyes burned with an intensity that made her want to squirm where she stood, silence stretched between them, growing unbearable and almost tangible.

The silence stretched on and the strain between them grew until it eventually became unbearable. His gaze dropped to her breasts as they lifted and fell beneath her vest. When his eyes met hers again the intensity in them left her stunned. "If we're doing this I'll need some inspiration."

Her breath seemed to catch as her pulse raced. "Like...what?" She could barely get the words out as her body seemed to fizz.

"You’re a writer…Use your imagination." He smirked, taking her wrist and led her into the living room towards the two oversized leather sofas, the scene of her humiliation. He took her over to the coffee table and urged her to sit on the edge as he positioned himself on the exact same sofa that she’d been on and settled himself opposite her and relaxed and he raised his brow, "When this is over, so is all the awkwardness between us. I want the old Sophie back, I want us to go back to the way we were okay?."

She swallowed, she had no idea if he intended to go through with this, or if he was teasing her, waiting for the right moment to burst into laughter. If it had been any other Bridgerton, she’d have been assuming this was a set up but there was a heat in his eyes, that made her feel like this was for real. "Okay” she swallowed, knowing he was waiting expectantly for her to do something so just to be safe, she reached up to tug at the clip holding her hair in place. She pulled it free and her long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and she tossed it side to side. "Does that inspire you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Benedict smirked and let out an amused breath, "You're beautiful Soph but No, I'm going to need more."

She hid her little smile of happiness at his words, at the warmth they encouraged inside her. Sophie pinched the temple of her glasses and went to take them off but he reached out quickly and stopped her "Leave 'em on," he said. “please…”

So he liked her in her glasses? That was interesting. She nibbled her lower lip, wondering how far to go, where to go next. She looked at him, she could see affection and a tenderness that filled her heart with happiness and he looked at her like she was some sort of goddess, wanting her to keep going. He just sat there patiently waiting, his hands resting on his knees while his gaze swept over her, helping her relax.

He wasn't pushing her or teasing her so she decided to take the next step, to stop being so afraid that he was going to laugh at her.

Sophie held her breath, steeling her nerves and gripping the hem of her vest, dragging it over her torso. The vest dropped from her slackened fingertips and she sat before him wearing only her blue lace bra and black leggings, an intense longing spread through her as she watched him watching her, the fire in his eyes almost burning her.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said.

She heard the huskiness in his voice and shivers tickled the surface of her skin. Before she could change her mind Sophie stood up and made quick work of removing her leggings. "I seem to be the only one who's actually doing anything."

She sat back down in her matching blue thong, gripping the edge of the table to keep her trembling fingers steady. "Don't you have a job to do?"

His mouth quivered with the smile she knew and loved. "Why don't you just tell me you want to see my cock?"

Desire swelled inside her, crashing in the pit of her stomach, making her feel as if she'd just lost her footing. She met his eyes and in a voice that had turned surprisingly breathy she said, "I really want to see your cock."

Benedict swallowed and he wanted to groan, wanting to throw her onto the sofa and have his way with her as he replied, "Keep that up and you'll be doing a lot more than looking."

He grabbed his top and leaned forward, drawing it over his head to reveal his entire upper body to her for the first time and Sophie nearly gasped. He'd never been one for strutting around the apartment half-naked and she regretted that the moment she set eyes on his bare chest.

"Wow." She felt a sudden urge to run her tongue over his abs. "You've got an incredible body, but I still don't see your...you know."

He chuckled and it thrilled her that they could find time to laugh despite the sensual nature of the moment. "You're a little eager, aren't you? Been a while?"

"Ages." she replied as she threw the last of her courage into the wind and reached behind her to the clasp on her bra. Sophie flicked it open and drew the straps down her arms until they settled at her bent elbows. She kept the cups in place with her hands and sent him an expectant look.

The idea of baring herself to him in this way made her heart race. He'd already told her he liked what he saw when he caught her here on the sofa a week ago but that wasn't the problem. It was her being almost naked and sitting just across from him while he was still covered up and she had to drag in a steadying breath.

He grinned and lifted his hips, shoving at the waistbands of both his shorts and underwear. He lowered them at the same time, stopping just before he got to the good stuff. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

She watched the ridges in his stomach contract and her mouth went dry. She really wasn't sure of anything right now and decided to play coy and smirked, "I won't be the one handling it, but I'm sure I'll enjoy watching."

He huffed out a laugh and his thumbs stayed tucked in the top of his shorts, teasing her with the skin he had on display and the mystery of what remained hidden. "There's only one problem here," he said.

She clutched her loosened bra to her breasts. "And what would that be?"

He met her eyes. "I didn't get to see you cum."

Her cheeks flushed and a quick thrill ran through her. She knew exactly what he was getting at; she'd have to be content with an unfinished show from him or join in so they could reach that peak together.

The thought of him in that moment, watching that look come over his face, she didn't want to miss out on seeing it for real, if this was her only chance at that, she had to take it. "You want to watch me?"

He gave her a wicked smile. "I'd rather make you come than sit back and watch, but I'll take whatever I can get."

Her heart slowed to a heavy thud and her mouth fell open "What?"

Benedict shook his head and laughed. "So pretty, yet so dense," he teased. "What do you think all the flirting has been about?"

"I just thought… I thought you flirted with all women like that." Knowing she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion made her happier than she'd thought possible. "You want to have sex with me?" Sophie narrowed her green eyes, staring at him. He'd better not be joking, this might actually kill her with mortification if he was.

"Hmm, no." His gaze travelled over her, pausing at her mouth before moving slowly down her body, taking her in, hungrily, greedily, knowing he could stare at her forever and never take her all in until he finally looked her in the eyes. "Having sex sounds so clinical. I want to fuck you."

She let out the breath she'd been holding, a little gasp of shock and pleasure as a surge of something completely and utterly carnal took hold of her, knowing "I didn't know," she said breathlessly. "I mean, look at you...and...look at me."

He frowned, appearing annoyed by that, as if he couldn't understand why she felt so out of her depth when it came to his physical appeal. "If you don't shut up and come over here I'm going to start wondering why I'm so hopelessly attracted to you."

She couldn't catch her breath. Her fingers tightened around the delicate material of her bra as she took it from her breasts and let it fall to the floor. Sophie shook her head slowly. "I still want to watch you," she heard herself saying.

His gaze dropped to her bare breasts and his jaw clenched as he fought back a groan. "Better lose the thong, then."

The expression on his face made her want to kiss him. A rush of need swept through her. Her nipples tightened into sensitive buds. She pushed herself off the coffee table and slipped her fingers into the waistband of her thong. Benedict's eyes followed her every movement and as she lowered the last offending garment he pushed his shorts and boxers down his thighs.

She stepped from her underwear just as he revealed his cock, inch by delectable inch. Her pulse raced. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. It was already hard and now she'd just found somewhere else on his body that she wanted to lick.

He kicked his shorts free as Sophie sat back down on the table. She perched on the edge, torn between the need to climb over him and straddle his lap or keep her distance for a better view.

"Ladies first," he said as a muscle twitched in his jaw. His eyes burned with need. She'd never seen this side of him before. Desperate, needy.

With a daring and boldness she didn’t know she possessed she lifted her feet, resting them on the side of the coffee table, while she slowly, slowly parted her knees. One hand reached behind her, her palm flattening against the table top for support. The other dipped between her thighs to tease her damp folds. Moisture coated her fingertips. She sighed, wanting to tip her head back but unwilling to lose sight of him for a second.

Benedict groaned and grabbed hold of his cock, stroking the thick, hard length as he watched her. His eyes slid over every part of her, from her face to her breasts, dropping between her legs like a physical caress. The veins in the back of his hand stood out. The way his fingers gripped his erection made her own move faster over her slick pussy.

She wanted his hands on her, all over her. She wanted to feel the damp heat of his mouth as it travelled across her skin, the rigid length of him as it sank inside her.

"I was thinking about you," she said, struggling to put the words together. "When you walked in on me, I mean." Her fingers slid over her clit, massaging the swollen bud while her gaze meshed with his. She hit a sensitive spot and closed her eyes briefly, swallowing a moan. "I always think about you."

"Sophie." She opened her eyes at the sound of her name. He let out a heavy breath that bordered on a groan, working his cock with increasing speed. The head glistened with moisture. She imagined lapping at it with the tip of her tongue. "Come here…. I want you."

His words gave her a head rush. She drew her legs together and warmth pulsed between her thighs as she rose from her position on the table. She took the two steps that lay between them, leaning over him to bring her mouth into close contact with his. He reached up with one hand and filled his palm with her flesh, massaging her breast, teasing her nipple while his lips brushed hers in a heated soul consuming kiss.

Sophie sighed and climbed over him, hovering with her legs spread either side of his thighs. She clasped her hand around his, encouraging him to keep stroking his cock. He groaned and pressed his mouth to hers, taking control, guiding the kiss. He took it deeper, drawing it out with slow sweeps of his tongue, soft nibbles of his lips.

He thumbed her nipple as a whimper sounded in her throat and her hand skated over her belly to delve back between her thighs. She found her wetness, teasing her clit once more.

With a moan she began to rock her hips to meet the firm glide of her fingertips. The slick head of his cock bumped against her knuckles as they both pleasured themselves.

Her control faltered and she kissed him harder, thrusting her tongue against his as her desire grew. Her hips jerked. She broke the kiss, her breaths coming heavily as she whispered, "Your cock...I want to ride it."

He growled and tugged harder at his thick length, using his free hand to grab a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. "Cum for me first," he said, "then it's all yours..." He used his grip on her hair to hold her right there and crushed his lips to hers.

His tongue plunged into her mouth. A wanton moan tore from her and she rubbed her clit, massaging, teasing...pushing herself closer to the edge. Her eyes closed tightly, her only focus to hit her peak. She needed him inside her.

She needed him like she never needed another in her life. His hard, wet cock kept sliding against the back of her hand, taunting her, urging her on.

He seemed to sense her impending release. Either that or he was close himself. His mouth grew more demanding, his groans more frequent. Sophie's fingertips increased pressure on her clit, slipping back and forth. Her other hand cupped the back of his neck, holding on. Her belly tensed and her hips thrust.

His mouth roamed over hers, his tongue caressed. It only increased her desire, her need for him. His hand in her hair, his body beneath her, she wanted him so much.

Sophie pulled her mouth free to drag in a shaky breath before her forehead rested against his, their eyes meeting before she cried out his name as she began shuddering. It flowed through her in a surge of complete bliss. Her moan, when it came, was throaty and full of pleasure. Her fingers kept rubbing, her hips jerking.

While the final tremors still shook her body Benedict released her hair and clasped her hips and without a warning, knowing how badly they both needed it, he shoved his cock inside her, pulling her down to deepen the connection causing her to scream with pleasure. He filled her, harsh, fast. Her wet fingers dug into his shoulder, her other hand clutched his hair.

His deep groan against her throat made her shiver. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and fucked her hard. Sophie held on, turning her head to press her lips to his temple. Her breasts jolted against his chest. Her stomach quivered as the need built inside her all over again.

His arm tightened around her and he lifted her, still connected with him, lowering her onto her back on the sofa. He rested on one elbow, using his other hand to grasp her arse as he took her even harder. His cock plunged inside her, his hips smacking hers.

Sweat-slicked skin met sweat-slicked skin, his chest brushed against her taut nipples.

Benedict looked into her eyes, a glint of something wild in his gaze. His mouth lifted in a half-smile. "You're so fucking beautiful," he said.

Sophie clenched her thighs around him, linking her ankles at the base of his spine. "Shut up and make me cum."

He nuzzled her throat and chuckled. Damned if the sound didn't make a shiver pass right through her. His pace increased, growing in intensity until she found herself having a brand new appreciation for athletic men.

She met his thrusts with her bucking hips, tipping her head back and biting her lip. She felt it coming, the throb beginning between her thighs. Benedict's teeth grazed her throat and it was all she needed to give her that final push. Sophie gripped his shoulders and let out a hoarse moan, writhing beneath him. She was still so sensitive from the last effort that she wanted to pull away from him and get closer all at the same time.

Her release only spurred him on. Benedict's fingers dug into the flesh of her arse, pulling her toward his thrusts. His mouth travelled across her collarbone, moving up to her jaw. He rested his lips there, his warm breaths whispering her name over and over as he reached his peak. Sophie held on, bracing herself as he gave a couple of final, forceful thrusts, letting out a loud roar of her name as he came inside her.

She hugged him, her arms and thighs wrapping around him to keep him close. He relaxed against her, his heart thudding hard, his breaths wrenching from him.

Her eyes drifted closed and a smile claimed her features. She relished in the weight of him pressing against her. She couldn't believe how much had changed between them in such a short space of time. From the awkwardness this morning to this...

Sophie let out a trembling breath and pressed her cheek to his, closing her eyes to take it all in, committing the moment to her memory.

A short while later Benedict stirred against her and lifted his head. "Hi." He smiled, his eyes heavy-lidded as he lowered his mouth to give her a long, lazy kiss. She lifted her arms above her head, stretching leisurely beneath him and sighing as his lips moved over hers.

He gave her one final soft kiss and pulled back to look her over. "We're going to have to come up with some arrangement here… because I need to do this again."

Sophie lowered her arms, hugging his neck as she squeezed her thighs around him. He was still inside her and judging by that look on his face he'd be hard again in no time. "Really? You want to do it again, huh?" She could barely keep the pleasure from her voice.

"Yeah." He slipped his hand over her breast, massaging her flesh. "We were in such a hurry I neglected these glorious breasts. I need to make up for that oversight." Her breath caught and her hips lifted beneath him. He smiled. "Are you okay with that?" He dipped his head to draw her nipple into his mouth.

Sophie let out a sound that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a laugh or a moan. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

[j2hoes]

Anthony Vaughn ex's to lovers slow burn coming this week ?? Keep your eyes peeled!

[sophiebaek]

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

“Do you mind me asking about your personal life?” Sophie inquired. Benedict took a sip of his wine, “Only if I can ask about yours…”

OR

Benedict and Sophie meet again after some time apart.

Read more

Day 2 of Benophie week 2024: Second Chances

[radical-ghostface]

Okay, so I'm not sure how many people in the Hogwarts Legacy fandom also indulge in an app called Choices (most specifically The Elementalists) but to those of you who are familiar, am I the only person who noticed huge similarities between Beckett Harrington and Ominis Gaunt?

They even LOOK the damn same istg

Tell me this isn't some shit Ominis would say 💀

[lustaffairs]

getting some air at a party

This is your rich, white collar criminal boyfriend.

He comes outside from the party, and something is weighing heavy on his mind. The hot day turned into a cool night. A light steam rises from the heated pool. You come outside in your short, sleeveless black dress, and he barely looks up as you close the sliding door behind you. You approach him, and he's distant. He's not really there. Staring into the fire. You stand between his knees and he half heartedly strokes the side of your thigh. You run your fingers through his curls. You tug your dress down, freeing your breasts, and his eyes sparkle when he finally looks up at you. The cool air hardens your nipples. The party buzzes on behind you, muffled by the glass wall. He nuzzles his face in your bosom and hums in contentment. You keep one hand in his hair and reach down with the other to feel him through his pants. He takes a nipple into his mouth and you feel him harden under your palm. You rub him and he kisses your breasts and sucks and licks your nipples. He unbuttons his pants and the sound of his zipper makes you tingle. You reach into his boxers to free his length. He puts his hands on your ass and helps you into straddling him, gaze darkening as he eyes your lips.

[sintva]

open to: m & f.

❝　did　you　ever　even　care　about　us?　about　me?　.　.　.　❞　

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

Dearest Gentle Reader, do you want to get a letter from Benedict Bridgerton himself?

Check my ETSY Shop and use the code 15MJOFF for a 15% off, no minimum

[zerrah]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner Characters: Brad Boimler, Beckett Mariner Additional Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Porn with Feelings, Denial of Feelings, Season 4 Spoilers Summary:

“Mariner, I…really like this.”

Spoken hesitantly, carefully, the words ladened with something deeper, a hidden meaning. And she must be tripping on something, because her first impulse wasn’t to run away.

 OR what happens when the strange, emotionally erratic behavior of the crew from 'Empathological Fallacies' impact both Mariner AND Boimler.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Drawing Room

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett/Baek Rated: 18+ - explicit sexual content, language Word count: 560

Summary: Benedict and Sophie make the most of their visit to Bridgerton House.

Author's Note: A smutty little drabble I wrote an age ago but just never posted. Part of my series of Benophie doing it everywhere but their bed 😅 Enjoy!

Benedict simply could not keep his hands off his wife. Not when they were alone in a room together. Especially when that room was somewhere where intimate activities were typically forbidden - anywhere other than their bedroom. The taboo of it all made his blood race and when Sophie arched her brow or twisted her lips in those small ways that only he could interpret, he knew she felt the same way.

And that was how they found themselves tupping in the drawing room of his brother’s house yet again. Sophie was bent over the back of an armchair, stifling herself with her hand while Benedict drilled into her like a jackrabbit, admiring the perfect roundness of her smooth bottom. Cleverly, she had positioned herself so that the frame of the chair rubbed against her in precisely the right spot each time he bucked into her. She may not reach her peak that way, but at least she was chasing her own pleasure simultaneously with him, and he would be sure to polish her off later.

Though the doors were locked and they were stationed away from the windows, they had to be quick. The footman had told them to expect the Viscount and his family to return at three o’clock, which meant they had fifteen minutes left. Benedict began to push into Sophie harder, more deeply, and the chair wobbled as one leg briefly lifted off the rug. She knew what would help steady them. It was the same thing she wanted to feel Benedict do to her. She reached for his hand on her waist and brought it to the back of her head, pressing his fingers to grip into her coiffure.

“Oh fuck,” she heard him hiss, and she couldn’t help a giggle from escaping her throat. She held firmly to the chair while her neck was arched up and back by Benedict tugging at her hair. To feel entirely under his control, held frozen in place, with the mild pain of his grip, was deliciously naughty and she hummed under her breath with arousal.

Benedict pounded away like a madman, one hand gripping Sophie’s waist for dear life, and the other nested into her styled hair. The sight of her swanlike neck bent back, her entire torso poised out straight due to his hold on her, was precisely the kind of sinful beauty his wife gifted him, especially when they needed to finish their uncouth encounters.

With the quietest moan he could choke back, he erupted, throbbing within her tight walls as he released her hair and rode out his climax. Sophie sighed and grinned to herself as he pulled away and buttoned his trousers, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his ruffled shirt cuff. He smoothed her dress down and she stood up, chuckling, her back still toward him.

Playfully, he grabbed hold of her hair once again and leaned in to growl in her ear. 

“And what precisely is so funny, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

Sophie smirked, bringing a hand up to stroke the side of his face. “How I can work you like a timepiece, my darling. It comes in handy, does it not?”

“Mmm,” With a crooked grin, he jerked her head back onto his shoulder and kissed her deeply, thanking her, and showing her with his tongue a promise of reciprocation to come.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @kmc1989

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Light Switch

Synopsis: “Why are you callin’ at 11:30. When you only wanna do me dirty. But I hit right back ‘cause you got that, that yeah,”

The unhinged modern AU of the disfunctional Beneophies; both clearly in a total mess. Or the little Drabble that I can’t get out of my head inspired by the song Light Switch by Charlie Puth.

⚠️ SMUT. SMUT. NSFW. Very darker version of Benedict Bridgerton and Sophie Beckett. Benedict Bridgerton at his worst. Please be warned.

Read in AO3 from here!

Casanova, Casanova, Casanova

Sophie Beckett knew she shouldn’t take the call when the name popped out on the screen at 11:30 in the evening. Just out of the shower, Sophie was ready to curl herself in the sheets, already changed into her cotton checkered pajamas with a mug of mint tea in her hands. Working as a junior editor at the London office of the Whistledown was no easy job, and she knew it was wiser to ignore the call and rest for another hectic day ahead.

But even the inorganic digital letters were enough to make her feel his strong fingers trace the curves of her outline, his heavy breaths muttering her name like a benediction, his heat pressing hotly against her thighs, or even the weight of his thick length on her lips...

“Still up, my love?”

His hoarse deep voice from the speaker sent shivers down her spine, even though it was a muggy summer night in July. A few months earlier, Sophie’s heart would have fluttered at his endearment, but she was more experienced as to know that the same words had been whispered to countless men and women.

“Ben,”

“Be there in five,”

And just like that, Benedict Bridgerton was leaning against the door in the shabby hallway of her tiny studio apartment, with a crooked smile that never failed to make her knees melt.

“Good evening, Ms. Beckett.”

His tone was light and teasing, as always, but Sophie knew immediately that it was one of his desperate days as he grabbed the back of her neck in one swift motion, taking her into a deep, hungry kiss.

Cigarettes and whiskey, Sophie noticed the bitter taste on his lips, the familiar smell on his perfectly tailored jacket, insinuating that he had been in the posh upper-class parties. He was oddly wet and sweaty, adding a musky smell to his usual sandalwood cologne. As his grip on her hair tightened, his nails biting into her skin, she could hear her sanity screaming Don’t, Don’t, Don’t. But she couldn’t bring herself to slam the door in his face; ** his passionate kisses already left her dizzy and breathless, how could she ignore the burning hardness grinding her against her hips, igniting the blazing fire within her that only he could control?

Slamming the door behind him, Benedict pushed her against the wall, skillfully slipping his hands inside her pajamas, one hand pinching the tip of her breasts, the other hand already snaking below her waist. His lips curled into a smirk as he felt the slick mess between her legs when he hadn’t even touched the center of her pleasure.

“Aren’t you as convenient as ever?” Benedict cooed seductively, his hands were already working on the metal buckle of the belt. “Quite flattering when a phone call and a kiss is all it takes,”

“Ben, condoms,” Sophie managed to croak out between breaths and moans as his hands shoved down her pajama bottom and her underwear, both pooling shamelessly at her ankles.

“You’re not on pills?” Benedict stopped, jutting out his chin belligerently.

“I didn’t know that you were coming,”

Benedict cursed under his breath, and Sophie could only stare at him as he went through his pocket; a pack of cigarettes, a silver vintage lighter, and a rumpled fifty-pound note dropped at their feet. At last, he fished the pink wrapper from the bottom of his pocket, and he quickly took his stiffening cock in his hands, giving it several strokes. A wicked part of his mind was demanding to force Sophie to her knees, but all he could think was how he could be buried deep inside her. Immediately.

“Hands on the wall,” Benedict muttered as he rolled down the elastic on his shaft, and Sophie looked at him with her evergreen gaze, the innocence in her eyes making his cock twitch.

“But Ben,”

“You didn’t hear what I said?”

“Ben.”

“Hands.”

Slightly bending herself over against the wall, Sophie could hear Benedict’s animalistic growl as he gripped her hips, setting the tip of his shaft to her entrance. Sophie bit her lips to suppress a scream as Benedict pounded inside her in one quick thrust, tasting the faint taste of blood in her mouth.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

Despite the brutal pace Benedict had chosen to fuck her, rutting inside her in a merciless rhythm, his voice was achingly soft and tender, her name slipping out of his lips. Sophie could only moan and graze her nails against the wall as Benedict continued his deepest strokes, stretching her to her limits.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about this all night,” He rasped, grasping her blond curls in his hand, tugging the golden strands with each thrust. Hot tears filled her eyes as his teeth bit into her shoulders, leaving a hot striking pain on her skin. “All mine,” he growled, bringing his hands to her neck, tightening his grip around her throat. “Mine.”

“No,”

“No?”

“No.”

He winced slightly as Sophie’s nails bit into the back of his palm, a sharp snip on his skin. He quickly dropped his hands, but Sophie gently took his hands to hers, her delicate fingers intertwining with his.

“Like this,”

Sophie’s breathless whisper and the coolness of her fingertips made Benedict dizzy and hazy, more than the whiskey or the champagne he had chugged down a few hours earlier. He pushed deep within her with a new rigor; in an unrelenting grind, again and again. Sophie knew that she was in an utter mess; her whole body trembling and shaking at the burning sensation.

“Ben, please,” Sophie’s plea came out as a desperate sob, and Benedict softened his thrust, relaxing his grip. Finding a the small freckle on the back of her neck, in the brief second, Benedict placed his lips on the exact place, tasting the soft saltiness on her skin. But just at that moment, Sophie gave a small yelp and he felt her tighten around his cock. Benedict’s sanity just shattered into pieces.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

The sound of their hips snapping, Sophie’s small gasp and cries, and Benedict’s low grunts of her name were the only sounds that echoed through the room.

Sophie knew that he was close to his peak as his hips began to stutter, his breath becoming short and desperate as if he were grasping for air. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the imprints of her approaching climax as well. Sophie pushed against him, slamming her hand on the musky wall; a desperate bid to achieve her own release, but just as she was about to finish, Benedict throbbed inside her with a low and pathetic groan. Leaving her just on the edge. Sophie could feel his deep heavy breaths behind her neck, his heavy weight leaning against her from her back.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as she felt himself soften inside her. She quivered softly as Benedict quickly pulled out, suddenly feeling the coldness of the grey concrete floor on her feet. Tossing the remains in the bin with a practiced hand, Benedict picked up the plastic blue box of baby wipes from the overhead cupboard, passing it to her wordlessly. Sophie bit the corner of her lips, her fingers clenching as she watched Benedict zip himself back in his trousers, fumbling with his black leather belt. Benedict’s ears turned slightly red noticing that she had been staring at him. With a slightly guilty look, he timidly picked up her pajamas from her ankles with two fingers, readjusting her nighttime attire.

“I’ll call you,”

Benedict Bridgeton placed his hand on the doorknob, his right foot already an inch in the hallway, but against her better judgment, against her sanity, Sophie grabbed him by the wrist in the last second.

No, No, No, No. No. No. Terrible idea. Don’t look back. Let him Leave. Walk away. Walk away.

But she wanted him more. She needed him more.

“Stay.”

“Don’t go.”

One of the many wonderful qualities she learned about Benedict Bridgerton was that he was a profound deep sleeper; the complete opposite of herself, the sound of a pin drop could wake Sophie from her shallow sleep. But Benedict Bridgerton could dooze off in the London construction site. The rattling clamor of the morning streets and the ear-splitting sound of her alarm clock weren’t loud enough to wake him from his slumber. But if there was one thing that woke him from his dream, it was when Sophie tried to slip away from his embrace, trying to crawl out of the sheets of her own bed.

“Don’t go, yet,” With his eyes still closed, Benedict would tighten his arms around Sophie’s waist, and she would feel his nose nuzzling her neck. “Just five more minutes, darling.”

“I have to go to work, Ben.” Sophie tried to distract herself from Benedict’s hands which were starting to wander to her very weak places, his hand sliding to cup her breasts. Sophie whimpered as his thumb softly rubbed her nipples, her breath hitched as his other hand teased her folds, gently caressing the center of her pleasure. “Benny, stop. I’m not self-employed like you…”

“But you’re so ready for me,”

Sophie gasped when he dipped his finger into her core, already wet and flooding, as he curled his finger against her most sensitive places. Sophie gripped her cotton sheets, trying to find some release from his agonizing touch.

“Stay.” Benedict purred, deepening his movements from the back, adding another finger, knowing the exact places that would melt her into a puddle, “Come home with me, Sophie.”

But his raspy whispers turned into a pathetic groan as Sophie gave a playful nudge to his heated manhood, just slipping away from his embrace in a brief second. Benedict stared shamelessly at her slender body from the bedsheets, the soft morning light giving a glow to her soft bare skin. Benedict could see the red marks he had left on her skin, a small bite mark on her delicate shoulders, the place he had buried his teeth in. His cock twitched, yet again. But her marks (Or was it his marks?) were quickly hidden as Sophie slipped into an oversized t-shirt, the length just enough to cover her lovely rear. It was his worn-out Star Wars T-shirt, he noticed, the one he had left in her room three months ago. He had stumbled into her flat after a three-week trip to Paris Fashion Week, diving into her bed right from Heathrow airport.

“Can’t you model for me, Sophie?” Benedict asked as Sophie picked up his navy Dior suit from the floor, hanging the jacket on the window rails, and folded his trousers neatly on the chair next to the bed.

“Don’t you have other boys who would do that for you?” Sophie only returned a wry smile, softly shaking her head. Benedict watched as she placed her keys next to the 50-pound note now soothed out on the table.

Keys in the post, don’t forget again, Benedict could almost hear Sophie’s voice in his head.

“Fine, forget about the model. But aren’t you going to help me with this?”

Benedict tore off the sheets, exposing his morning glory in the sunlight.Taking his hardness in his hands, he plumped it several times, grinning as he saw Sophie lick her lips ever so slightly. His load was already leaking, and Benedict was hoping to fill her again, but it would be more lovely to have her lips around his, dipping a thumb in her mouth as she looked up at him with her watery eyes…

“Tempting, but no.” Sophie chuckled, throwing her pair of white lace knickers on the bed, “You’re a big boy, Benny. You can take care of yourself,”

Benedict groaned as Sophie disappeared into the shower. With a pair of knickers in one hand and his gleaming cock in the other, Benedict contemplated for a second, but he dropped everything, rushing after to squeeze himself into Sophie’s tiny bathtub.

-------------------------------------------

The unnameable relationship with the up-coming artist Benedict Bridgerton had started almost a year ago, on the day of the Halloween Party hosted by Hasting&Co. She had tagged along with her colleague Eloise Bridgerton, who disappeared in the crowd right after they arrived at the venue. The flashing neon lights, the banging music overhead, the three delicious glasses of champagne, Sophie was enjoying herself so much so that she didn’t care she didn’t know the name of the beautifully handsome man who led her to the dance floor; she didn’t mind when he casually slipped his hands on her waist, or when he gently grinded his hips against hers, or even when his hands cupped her arse over her silver mini-dress. She was even stupid enough to lead him to her shitty one-room apartment, the one just above the Vietnamese restaurant. Too hazy, too impatient to even turn on the lights, the two bodies stumbled onto the mattresses; her old wooden bed frame giving an eerie creak all throughout the night. He had given her the best three orgasms of her life and fucked her senseless that she passed out in his arms, and for the first time in her life, she truly slept deeply, without any disruption at all.

When Sophie ran her fingers across his hair, his soft brown curls looking almost reddish in the warm morning sunlight; that was the moment she realized that the man snoring happily in her bed was the Benedict Bridgerton; the man she had seen in the posts of Whistledown number of times. She did panic, dropping flat on her face from her bed, knocking her forehead on the floor, but it was him who carried her back onto the mattress, sinking her into the sheets yet again. For the next four days, Benedict didn’t even leave her room; luring her in bed every time she got home from work.

“What are we, exactly?” It was the question she should have asked on that very morning, but Sophie was too focused on the sweet sensation Benedict was giving to her, his fingers exploring every bit of her body.

It didn’t take such a long time to realize that Benedict Bridgerton wasn’t exactly, exclusive.

The first time, it was two days after Benedict finally left her flat, (He was in dying need of fresh clothes) Sophie braved the courage to call him, wanting to ask him if he wanted to stop by for some chicken noodle soup.

“Wouldn’t you like a sip?” Sophie nervously repeated those words as she listened to the waiting call. She finally heard a click on the other end, but it was the voice of a woman who had answered, not the rich deep voice of Benedict Bridgerton.

“He’s in the shower now,” Her London cockney accent sounded oddly hoarse and amorous, “I can take your message if you want,” It would have been much easier for Sophie if her words had some malice, but her tone was sweet and gentle, almost soothing as if she had sensed her panic on the other end. Benedict had banged on her door at midnight the very day, leaving her no choice but to open her door, giving him the chance to kiss her senselessly, making her forget all the anger and the sadness that battered her soul.

“I don’t do relationships,” Benedict had guiltily admitted over their morning cup of Earl Grey. “I’ll leave if you want, I really don’t mind if you don’t want any of this,”

Come to think of it, that was the moment Sophie should have walked away. But instead, she had grabbed him by the collar and took her lips to his, slightly tiptoeing to reach the corner of his mouth.

“Stay.” She had murmured on his lips. “Don’t go,”

The second time, was the day of her father’s funeral. It was the third day of December, and Sophie could still feel the shivering wind as she rushed to the chapel, the place she managed to find after intense research on Social Media. But Sophie was kicked out the moment she reached the entrance, her stepmother shrieking and screaming something about fucking bastards and shame to the family name. Still shaken from Aramita’s shrieks or the devastating fact that she would never see her father’s face ever again, Sophie found herself standing on the doorsteps of Benedict’s art studio. With shaking hands, she rang the doorbell, and a beautiful handsome man with soft brown curls appeared at the door. Only dressed in grey sweatpants, he did look puzzled for a second seeing a girl all in black with a bouquet of lilies in her hands, but he seemed to notice her, greeting her with a smile.

“Please, call me Henry,” he introduced himself as he led her to the spacious sitting room, “It’s an honor to meet the muse in person finally,”

But Sophie noticed the panic on Benedict’s face as he appeared in the room, wrapped in a silk green robe. Through the crack of the door, she could see three bare shoulders laid across the bed. Their legs tangling on the white covers.

“You never told me that your new muse would be joining us, Bridgerton,” Henry had smiled over his cup of tea, “I’m sure the others would be delighted as well…”

“Oh. Um. I’m not. I’m just.”

“Henry, she’s not,”

“Not the sharing kind is she?” Henry broke out in an enigmatic smile, “It’s never too late to explore new territories…”

But before Henry could finish his sentence, Sophie had stumbled out from her seat, hastily mumbling something about work and errands. As she sprinted across the rainy streets of London, Benedict had caught her in the wrist, just at the start of the street crossing, grabbing her in a tight grip.

“I can’t just leave you all alone, Sophie,”

Benedict had helped her back to her apartment, and for the first time in the relationship, Benedict only cuddled her on the battered mattress, holding her tight as she sobbed in his arms.

The third time was at the Christmas Party at the London Arts Gallery. Sophie had been given a chance to write an article for the arts division, and she had been running around the venue with a notebook, a camera, and a voice recorder in her hands. Sophie almost dropped her camera when she saw Benedict Bridgerton walz into the gallery with a glamorous lady in his arms, a slightly older lady with gorgeous blond locks dressed in a Chanel vintage dress.

“That’s Lady Tilley Arnold.” A chatty gentleman had whispered to her excitedly seeing how Sophie just stood there with her mouth hanging open. “A patron to a number of up-coming artist in London you see, the London arts scene is entirely based on by her financial sponsorship…”

But, it wasn’t how Benedict kissed Lady Tilley passionately in the lips or how the two danced together beautifully on the dance floor that brought her in shambles. It was when his green eyes met hers, and gave her a casual smile and a little wave. Not even a flinch.

At that moment, Sophie realized that Benedict Bridgerton thought nothing about her.

It was his charm. His smiles. His lovey-dovey eyes. His witty, sarcastic quips. As she observed him from the corner of the gallery, Sophie noticed that he chronically flirted with every single person he passed by, igniting sexual tension in every single conversation.

And Sophie was finally aware of the fact that she was just one of the long list of lovers in Benedict Bridgerton’s life. After the third, Sophie stopped counting, and after three months, Sophie Beckett embraced the term “friends with benefits ” all in one hand. After all, it was nice to have a comfortable warmth in bed, wasn’t it?

Sophie could never reject him when he gave a call at 11:30 in the night, often showing up drunk and wasted, with a faint smell of whiskey and weed, because he gave her what she always craved, a little bit of love and every bit of warmth.

But what further sank her into inner turmoil was when Benedict sometimes gave her more than a little bit of love.

Sometimes, Benedict would stay in her shabby studio apartment for a whole day, preparing a beautiful hand-cooked dinner on the table, after Sophie came home tired and exhausted from work.

“You told me like you like Bolognese,” Benedict would laugh wholeheartedly as Sophie took another helping of the gorgeous tomato sauce.

“Benedict, this is absolutely gorgeous.”

Sometimes, Benedict would come with a bouquet of flowers in her hands, filling the room with the smell of wildflowers and Lilly of the Valleys. Sometimes it would be lilacs, tulips, roses, and hyacinths.

Every once in a while, Benedict would wake up earlier than Sophie, (when she was too exhausted from Benedict’s relentless pursuits) and a perfect morning table would be set before her eyes; the tiny surface filled with tea and omelets, croissants, and fresh strawberries. And Benedict would send her off to work with a gentle kiss.

Then, he wouldn’t contact her for weeks. Sophie would only read the scandalous headlines and see his charming eyes from the Whistledown Gossip posts, often along with beautiful models and actors.

Then, Benedict would call her at 11:30 in the evening, telling her that he would be there in five. Just only to fuck her. And she would let him.

“Are you okay, Sophie?”

Sophie broke from her daze, her stepsister was looking at her worryingly, Posy’s soft hands gently pulling Sophie back to a beautiful summer day in St. James Park. Sophie had forgotten for a second that she had been on an outdoor picnic on her day off; with Posy and her newborn baby, Sophia.

“I’m all right,”

Sophie answered with a smile, cradling her baby in her arms. Little Sophia let out a small giggle as Sophie nuzzled her soft skin with her nose.

“She’s looking more and more like you every time I meet her,”

“Sophie, please don’t change the subject,” Posy grabbed her lightly in the wrist. “It’s not Phillip Cavender, is it?”

“It’s not him, Posy. You know he’s not allowed to contact me…”

“Then why do you have a bruise on your neck?”

Damn. Sophie knew that she should have worn a scarf or a turtle neck, but it was just too hot, and Sophie had tried to cover it up with more puffs and foundations. But of course, Posy would notice, and with Posy’s patient coaxing and her peanut butter sandwich, Sophie ended up spilling out every story she had kept inside herself.

Posy listened to her whole story in silence, but her blue eyes widened and widened as she continued the whole story of her complicated relationship with Benedict Bridgerton.

“Sophie, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m all right, Posy.”

“Sophie Beckett, look me in the eye and tell me that you are completely okay.” Posy tugged on her white shirt, nudging Sophie to turn her head.

“Posy,”

“Look me in the eyes, Sophie.”

“….It’s not like he physically punches me or anything,”

“Oh, Sophie.”

“He doesn’t kick me in the stomach when I can’t wake up from period cramps,”

“Sophie,”

“He cooks chicken soup for me, Posy,” Sophie felt tears coming up to her eyes as she continued her words, “Telling me that it would warm me up,”

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

Posy rubbed her shoulders as Sophie broke down in sobs, perhaps for the first time Posy had seen her in years. Posy took her towel handkerchiefs from her backpack, Sophie accepting it in quivering hands. Posy reached out her arms and took Sophie into a tight embrace.

“I understand that he’s kind and sweet to you, Sophie.” Posy gently said, “But you deserve much much more Sophie. You say that you are all right about the relationship, but it’s hurting you, Sophie. I can see it in your eyes,”

Sophie couldn’t quite reply, overwhelmed with tears and sobs. It took her more than a minute to calm herself down, trying to take deep breaths.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself,” Sophie found herself saying her voice shaking and quivering, “why I keep choosing people who treat me like absolute shit, who treat me like some kind of a toy…”

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” Posy quietly said. “Have you ever watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower?”

“No,”

“When I heard this line in that movie, it opened my mind, Sophie. You remember how Mother and Rosamund treated us.”

Sophie nodded.

“Brush your hair, stop slouching, and pick up your feet, the dress looks terrible on you. Too fat, too chubby. I stopped eating, and then it would be too skinny, too bony….I hated myself, Sophie. I would have killed myself if you weren’t there for me, Sophie.”

Sophie gently took her sister’s hand, rubbing the soft palm. Their childhood memories were still fresh and painful, she knew how they both struggled to even talk about them.

“But when I left home, I noticed that I wasn’t ugly or unattractive as I believed myself to be, and I…I actually liked myself, more than I had ever imagined.”

“You’re beautiful, Posy.”

Posy smiled, tilting her head to Sophie’s shoulders.

“And then I met Hugh, and he has given me so much love that I never thought I would experience. And I’ve never felt so happier than any moment of my life.” Posy stroked her baby’s hair, the same anglic curls as Hugh’s. “And you deserve to be happy too, Sophie. I just want you to be happier,”

The scenery in front of Sophie suddenly became misty yet again.

“You are the most beautiful, and the kindest person that I have ever met, Sophie,” Posy looked into her eyes, and Sophie could feel tears running down her cheeks, “Do you know why I named my daughter after you? I wanted her to be a kind, compassionate soul, just like you.”

“You need to take care of yourself more, Sophie. Because You deserve much much more,”

Sophie let herself cry in her sister’s arms again, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing away about everything, everything, and everything.

---------------------------------------------

Benedict tapped on the door at 11:35, it was close to midnight, but he knew that Sophie would be awake. She hadn’t answered his call, but he knew she would be there; perhaps curled up in the bed with a novel in hand.

Benedict kept taping, kept taping, and kept taping, but there was no answer. He was gradually becoming impatient, his knocks changing into slams and bangs; his knuckles becoming more crimson every second.

“KEEP IT DOWN, will’ ya?”

A man in a shabby robe appeared from the other side of the hallway, rubbing his red swollen eyes. Benedict took a step back seeing a baseball bat in his right hand, a slight panic creeping up to his spine.

“I’m incredibly sorry to disturb you so late at night,” He sputtered, fidgeting his hands nervously, “I was trying to contact a friend, and I was worried because she wasn’t answering my calls or anything…”

“You’re the boyfriend?”

“Pardon?”

“Small, green eyes, curly hair?”

“Yes, yes.” He gritted his teeth. God, the man was telling him nothing, couldn’t he tell that he was worried about her? “My girlfriend might be unconscious inside here, would you mind contacting the landlord for me…”

“Get out.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, get the fuck out of this building.”

“But,”

“GET OUT!”

Benedict was chased down the stairs of the apartment, the man violently waving the metal baseball bat at him. He was lucky that he wasn’t hurt at all, but the disdain in the man’s eyes made him shudder. He didn’t see him as a stalker did he? He was just there because he was worried, it wasn’t as if he was chasing her down or anything….

Benedict again visited her apartment the next morning, carefully avoiding the man in the robe, but there was no answer. Benedict spent the whole day on the window table of the Vietnamese restaurant, ordering something off the menu every hour, (He called Colin for endorsement, and he happily ate away seven Goi cuons, a plate of Banh Khots, and two helpings of seafood Pho.) Benedict stayed there until the Waiter tapped him on the shoulder, telling him it was time to close shop.

“Do you happen to know Ms. Beckett?” Benedict asked the waitress in the cashier, knowing that it was a useless endeavor. And just as he thought, the woman only returned a puzzled look.

“Um, she’s about this high, green eyes, beautiful curls? Named Sophie Beckett?”

“Oh, Sophie!”

Benedict felt his heart leap as the Waitress’s lips widened in a smile, “Such a precious girl, isn’t she? She would always help me out with the cleaning on Friday nights…”

“She still lives upstairs, doesn’t she?”

“Haven’t you heard?” The Waitress tilted her head, “She moved out several weeks ago, said something about moving in with her stepsister or something…”

“Oh,”

“Pity, isn’t it?” The waitress continued, “Not only did we lose a precious customer, we lost a tutor for my boy, she was looking after SAT studies every Sunday…”

“Why are you so obsessed with her?” Colin asked while munching on some leftover Banh mi, as the two walked down the streets of London. Colin had been crashing on the couch of Benedict’s Georgian Townhouse, a three-week stay between his travels. Benedict ignored his question, not in the mood to respond to his brother’s inquiry. After all, he had been completely rejected by Sophie Beckett. “Never seen you chase after one girl, brother. I thought she was just one of your girls.”

Benedict sighed. Colin’s words were true; Sophie Beckett was just one of the names he would call when he needed a quick lay. But she was different; he had to admit, he didn’t have to care about being witty or debonair in front of her, he could drop his so-called “charismatic” artistic persona. She didn’t seem to mind even if he was drunk or miserable or entirely messed up; Any state he was, she would welcome him with open arms.

Deep in his heart, he knew he was taking advantage of her fathomless kindness. He also knew she wanted more from him; a committed relationship, a monogamy. But he had lived the majority of his adulthood wandering around in countless beds, and he didn’t exactly want to change his hedonic habits for just one simple girl.

“I understand,” Sophie had smiled over her morning cup of Earl Grey, but he had noticed that her fingers flinched for just a second, “I’ve seen too many broken relationships, too.” and Benedict didn’t dare to say that was not the reason.

Once, he had seen his rose bouquet abandoned in the outside bin. Just when he had stepped outside for a smoke, at the backdoor of the Vietnamese restaurant. The red petals crumbled with leftovers and paper napkins, the one he had given two nights before.

But she never scolded him for sleeping around, never rejected him when he tapped on her door. Taking in all the irritation, the insecurities, or the stress he thrust inside her.

Just one simple girl. Wasn’t that what she was?

“I have to find her, Colin.”

But she’s just a simple girl,

“I need her, Colin,”

But she’s just a girl,

But Sophie Beckett was always there for him, as if she were made for him; accepting him for as he truly was. Giving him comfort, the love, giving herself, no matter what. But what had he done in return? Some flowers, some handmade dishes? Hasn’t he exploited her to the limit?

“You’ve been doing very well, Mr. Bridgerton.” His physiologist had a surprised look at his last appointment, “A whole year off from drugs; astonishing achievement…”

It was because of her. She had been his medicine, his remedy, his pills.

“Bro, shouldn’t you take no as a no?”

“Yes, no, yes.” Benedict stuttered, “But, god, I owe her thousands of apologies,”

“If you are so desperate to find her, why don’t you contact the stepsister? If you cut off the other ladies and beg on your knees, she might change her mind,”

“I didn’t know that she had a step-sister,”

“That is a terrible red flag, Brother.” Colin scrunched his nose. “Where is she from? Maybe she’s back at her hometown…”

“She’s from the countryside,”

“AND THAT’S THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW?” Colin dropped the half-eaten Banh mi on the pavement. “God, I knew you like to keep it casual, but I didn’t know that you were that casual,”

“Well, I know her favorite color is green and she loves Lilly of the Vallys…”

“And is that information going to help you find her?”

“…No.” Benedict couldn’t quite look into his brother’s eyes.

“Perhaps you could contact her workplace. Where did she say that she worked?”

“She works as a junior editor,”

“At where?”

“I actually don’t know.”

Colin smacked him in the head.

------------------------------------------

Sophie walked through the art gallery, carefully stopping at each picture, and observing the intricate details of each color and strokes. Ever since she moved to Wilshire and got a job in the local bookstore, it became a regular habit to visit every once in a while for the new exhibition. She found it soothing, walking in silence all alone, exploring the places each piece took her; almost as if she were navigating through the minds of other hundreds of people.

But Sophie stopped, or quite frankly, she had to stop.

It’s not every day you see a painting of yourself, is it?

It was a portrait of her, an oil painting of about a notebook size. She recognized her blond curls, her green eyes, but it was the clothes the girl was wearing that first caught her eyes; the worned out Stars Wars T-shirt she threw out in the bin two years ago.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing in front of the portrait. But she couldn’t help noticing how he managed to capture every bit of her in one painting, her messy morning curls, her scruched eyebrows, every curve of her body…

As she glanced at the description on the left corner, Sophie stopped breathing, the heat coming up to her cheeks,

Benedict Bridgerton; Love on my Life;

“Sophie?”

Sophie recognized his deep, soft voice, but she didn’t dare to look back. Even after two years, his voice didn’t fail to make her knees feel weak, bringing the same shivers she felt every time he called him. His sweet lips on hers. His hands everywhere.

Same, same, same, all over again.

Sophie knew that if she looked back, she would fall in love all over again, repeat the same mistakes, two years of intense therapy all in waste. Sophie closed to eyes, but she could hear his footsteps approaching, gradually, but hesitantly. Sandalwood and soap, she recognized, but she noticed the absence of the alcohol and cigarettes. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.

But her heart leaped, and her stomach fluttered with just his presence, just like when they first met.

“Give me one more chance, Sophie,”

“Give me a chance to love you again,”

#writer's notes

"We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist,"

[release-the-mccracken]

I know we all talk about how Gabe Saporta and Mikey Way have fucked every alt man in existence. But there's someone whose name yall aren't putting enough respect on