#Bene

[foreverblondie23]

[insinirate]

🦷🦷🦷🦷

[dlscenarios]

Delicate

Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader SMUT

"Come here, you could meet me in the back"

Cw: SMUT, AFAB Reader + Reader wears period-typical feminine clothes, Ben catches feelings instantly (like an idiot), Why are all Bridgertons handsy, Vaginal Fingering, Pull Out Method/Coming on Stomach, Sex with Feelings, Is Vanilla a Kink?

I don't like this one as much as I liked Anthony's but I'm sure I'll write more for Ben eventually.

MDNI

It is oft said that second sons have more fun. They have the wealth and influence of a firstborn son, but they also have the freedom to behave in ways their elder brother could only dream of. This was the case with Benedict Bridgerton, second son of the late Viscount Bridgerton and only two years younger than the new one. While being one of the most eligible bachelors in London, he somehow manages to deflect wedding bells every time his eager mother brings around a single lady. He often escapes to White's for a stiff drink, but lately he has taken up going to parties thrown by the other unmarried men in the ton.

Benedict had never been a fan of Phillip Cavender — his soirées were always hit or miss — but tonight's actually seemed to be quite good for once. The spirits were high end yet no guest had thrown up the contents of their stomach thus far and the rooms didn't smell of sweat and sex. Of course, there was still the occasional couple in the hallway with their tongues down each other's throat, but the Cavenders' house had seen much worse based on the last few times Benedict had paid a visit. Though better than the last, the party was not exactly to Benedict's taste.

The only unwed Bridgerton brother — aside from Gregory who was not quite old enough for marriage — had just stepped outside with his glass to enjoy some fresh air when he heard a groan from the other side of the house. Benedict, though intrigued, decided not to butt in but subconsciously took a small step closer toward the sound. He took a sip of his drink before someone, supposedly the one that had made the aforementioned noise, stepped out from behind the wall, halting instantly once they spotted him.

You had been hiding on the side of the Cavenders' house, having been relegated there after the friend you had come with started getting debauched by a nameless lord in the hallway. It hadn't exactly been an unwanted change of scenery, the party had begun to take a turn for the worse when Phillip started chugging brandy straight from the bottle, but you would have preferred to gather your friend and flee had she not been taken up with someone.

When you rounded the corner, posture relaxed and hair freed from the coiffure it'd been in all night, Benedict's heart almost leapt out of his chest. He couldn't put his finger on why, but it had been the first time in his nearly thirty years of life that someone caught him so off guard. You took a startled step back, eyes widened after nearly running into the man.

You let out a small surprised squeak before clearing your throat. "Apologies..." you muttered, offering the stranger a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to walk past him.

"Wait!" Benedict's mouth had worked before his mind. He couldn't let you leave. Something about you drew him in and after years of thinking he'd never feel the same flutter his siblings felt when meeting their spouses, a random partygoer gave him that exact feeling. However, now that he had your attention and you waited for him to speak once more, he couldn't think of anything that'd make you stay. Instead, he just gazed at you, studying every feature of your face, your hair, your chest...

"Sir...?" your voice came out meek but was enough to force Benedict back to earth. He blinked and straightened his stance, instinctively bitting his lip as he tried to think of what to say. Would a compliment be too forward? Too soon to ask for your time?

"Would you...care for a drink?" He immediately regretted uttering such a flubbed line.

Much to his relief, you tittered, "Sorry but I do not drink. Especially not at a party such as this."

Benedict nodded. There went his only idea...

You cut off his thoughts, "You seem familiar."

He looked up from the ground. "Do I?" He could track your eyes as they studied his appearance.

"You're a Bridgerton, aren't you?"

That made Benedict crack a nervous smile. Of course you'd clock him as a Bridgerton. Everyone in the ton knew his family and how they all shared the same features. "Can you guess which one?"

"Well...considering you are here and not with a  wife, I assume you're Benedict. Unless you're the viscount hiding from the viscountess." Your smirk told him you were joking. If you knew Benedict's name, surely you knew enough about his brother to know he was too enamored to ever leave Kate's side.

He mirrored your smirk. "I assure you, I am not married." He paused briefly before asking, "Might I ask why you were out here alone?"

You sighed and pointed toward the Cavenders' front door. "My friend is in there. She's found some man to make her very happy, for turn of phrase."

Benedict let out an "ah" and leaned against the side of the house.

"Why are you out here alone?" you asked, clasping your hands in front of you.

"Not quite a fan of Cavender's parties. I only came because a few buddies asked me to."

"I am not a fan either. The man himself is so...distasteful. I do not understand why any respectable person comes here."

"What is your name, if I may be so earnest?" Benedict pipes in and the moment you answered, the very sound of your name became a tight yet comforting presence around his heart. It felt right, as if he had been searching for it all his life. He had never heard of you or your family before but meeting you hadn't felt like meeting the other strangers of the ton.

He couldn't even tear his eyes away from you, meeting yours as he suggested aimlessly, "Do you...wish to go inside? It is quite cold out here tonight. I'm sure we could find a room to stow away in."

It, in fact, wasn't "quite cold" at night in the middle of June, but Benedict chose not to correct his mistake either. You seemingly didn't care to call him out as well, as your reply came in the form of linking your arm with his, eyes still glued to each other's as he lead you through the house.

After escorting you into a vacant bedroom and shutting the door, Benedict downed the rest of the alcohol in the glass he'd forgotten about until then before setting it on a nearby table and sitting on the side of the bed, gesturing for you to sit next to him. His eyes trailed over your dress, taking in how it hugged you in places too improper to show off in any other occasion.

His hand subconsciously moved to rest on your thigh, just above your knee, as he spoke with a smirk. "Quite the dress..."

You smiled shyly. "My friend suggested I wear it."

Benedict seemed much closer than he had been five seconds ago, yet neither of you moved away. He replied lowly, "I should thank her then."

Without warning, Benedict leaned in and captured your lips with his. His hand squeezed your leg a little tighter when your hands moved up to his head, pulling him into you as you returned his kiss. His hand trailed up your thigh, aching to bring you closer if it were possible and, when he squeezed, you noticed how dangerously close he was to your ass.

Breaking the kiss, you pressed a softer one to his jaw before leaning back to meet his gaze once more. His own hand now cupped your cheek. Benedict leaned in again, this time resting his forehead to yours. Neither of you said anything, not wanting to ruin the moment with meaningless words, instead basking in the other's presence.

The air had changed and with it changed the way you saw the man holding you. Instead of Mr. Bridgerton, the most eligible bachelor and skilled eluder of the aisle, you saw Benedict, a beautiful, warmer soul than most men you had met in the ton. It left you wanting to know more of him. It left you wanting him.

As if on the same wavelength, the two of you leaned in once more, the hand he'd had on your cheek slipping into your hair as the kiss grew hotter. Benedict groaned into your mouth, instinctively rolling his hips into the air when you returned his moan. He broke the kiss, gripping your shoulder, softly panting against your lips.

"I want you..." he whispered, eyes shining as if he'd just then realized it. "I want you..."

Your hands held his face again, futilely steadying him when you felt the hand sliding along your back tremble.

"I need you..." Benedict muttered, pulling your lower half closer. "Please..." His hand trailed over your clothed leg again.

He could have blamed it on the alcohol had you declined. He would have accepted your decision, though shattering his heart, apologized and fled. Instead, he meticulously watched as you hiked up your skirt, bunching the fabric at your thigh. Without hesitation, Benedict slipped his hand under, passing your stocking and caressing the soft skin above it. His eyes looked up to meet yours, silently asking if you were sure. Your warm smile coaxed him into kissing you again, softer and sweeter than the two prior and ending much too soon, but then he pressed similar pecks to your jaw and neck. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on your thigh before moving up to squeeze your clothed breast.

Your breath hitched as he mouthed at your neck. The hand at your chest then groped your hip then finally rest on your ass. With another chaste kiss to your cheek and a limp tug to your skirt, he whispers into your ear, "Take this off. Lie on the bed."

Without wasting a second, after he pulled away, you reached back to unbutton your gown. Benedict's eyes were glued to your body as he followed your actions, throwing his coat and shirt to the floor in time with your dress. He helped you undress further, having to restrain himself from ripping off your stays. The moment your back hit the bed, Benedict was on you, caressing your newly-bared thigh.

Benedict lowered himself to capture your lips again. Warm hands slipped up your sides, one taking a breast into it as he planted another peck to your cheek, whispering breathlessly into your ear, "Perfect..."

His lips pressed a kiss below your ear before trailing down your neck, past your collarbone and stopping at your chest. He mouthed at your breast, showering the soft skin in languid kisses. The hand that once held one slid between your legs, the pads of his fingers wasting no time in circling your clit. You let out a gasped moan, instinctively curling into his hand. Benedict's lips met your jaw as nimble fingers rubbed just a little faster.

Your own hand, unsure of what else to do, sneaked up his shoulder and rested at the nape of his neck, guiding him in for another kiss. His tongue expertly clashed with yours when you felt a finger slowly push into you. Benedict swallowed your moan, unable to hold back one of his own as he felt your heat clench around him. He gently thrusted into you, thumb returning to your neglected clit. As your lips departed, a quiet smack echoing between your bodies, your hips rolled to match his movements.

The way your pleading eyes looked up to meet his almost broke Benedict's resolve. It was almost like an angel had fallen from heaven and landed right beneath him. He studied the way your lips parted to allow breathy pants to escape, the glass-like shine in your stare begging him for more, the way your back arched when he applied just a little more pressure to your bud. God, if he wouldn't kill to paint the very sight into the recesses of his mind.

Benedict was admittedly never a patient man — a trait all Bridgertons carried if his nearly thirty years of experience with seven siblings was any indication — so it should have come as no surprise when he started growing antsy. The ache in his trousers was growing harder to ignore and, with a dejected whine from you, he slipped his hand away to undo the buttons. Your eyes were glued to his newly bared form. Benedict resumed his position above, hands roaming your figure again. Everything about you was perfect.

His fingers dragged across your ribs, running warm, gentle lines over them as he whispered, "Are you ready?" He hardly heard himself, lost in his head, admiring your body in another once-over. However, Benedict heard your breathy "yes" clearly. 

He took himself into one hand, holding the plush flesh of your thigh in the other as he aligned with your entrance. He slowly entered, breath hitching at the way your body welcomed him. Once he finally bottomed out, Benedict gripped your hips, blunt nails digging into them in a futile attempt to ground himself. He couldn't come before you, but the way you squeezed him, taking him as if created by God to do so, did not make that an easy feat.

Benedict was no virgin — hardly any man his age and status hadn't lain with someone — yet it suddenly felt as if he was. He gave an experimental, careful thrust, soon adjusting into a slow rhythm. As he gradually picked up speed, nearly resorting to recounting arithmetic from his schooling days to stave off the orgasm threatening to overtake him, one of his hands flew between your hips, thumb catching your clit once again. He needed you to come, needed to feel you tightening around him before he'd join you.

Maths could only do so much. 

Yet, as if some higher power had answered Benedict's prayer, your back arched, muscles tensing and moans growing louder as your release hit. His thumb continued its assault on you long enough to guide you through your high, your toes curling and hands ripping into the silk sheets below.

Once your body retracted from his touch, Benedict pulled out, replacing you with his hand, your arousal dripping from his cock as he finished himself off, tightly gripping the pillow by your head. With a high moan, he painted your stomach with his spend.

He sighed and crumbled to the bed beside you, his hand resuming its spot on your thigh. Benedict laid back and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. He never wanted to let go, he thought with a subconscious squeeze of your flesh. As he replayed the events of the past few minutes in his head, the pieces were falling into place. His heart picked up speed, the satisfied expression he wore falling as he realized what he felt for you.

Benedict turned to your side, seeing that you too had been reflecting on the night as you bore up.

He never wanted to let you go, and the way you looked at him when you finally noticed his gaze told him that this wouldn't be the last time he'd see you.

[sunelrose]

[magismagisque]

Forse hanno fatto bene a mettere l'amore nei libri. Forse non potrebbe sopravvivere da nessun'altra parte.

- William Faulkner, Luce d'agosto

[ragazzoarcano]

🌱

[mostro-rotto]

Per un momento stavo migliorando. Per un attimo mi sono sentito bene. Per un attimo ho voluto vivere. Per un attimo ho avuto di nuovo speranza. E in un attimo, ho perso di nuovo tutto.

[ma-pi-ma]

...

[kureha-fujishima]

Babe wake up, official LIS translation of Romagna Mia just dropped

[maledettadaunangelo]

Volevo ispirare le altre persone a dare il meglio. Ma io, come posso fare del bene? Io non posso. Dio, guardami: io sono un mostro.

Mostro, Poco prima dello schianto

[foreverblondie23]

[insinirate]

can you.. tell us more abt bene and theo?? whats their impression of each other? do they ever get along? 👉👈

i think the day they get along is the day the world ends

[irene23world]

ti volevo dire che è tutto ok se continui a voler bene a chi ti ha ferito

[lamiaprigione]

Dramma della gelosia (tutti i particolari in cronaca)

[dafnebice]

[ragazzoarcano]

“… perché né il bene né il male possono durare in eterno; e quindi ne consegue che, poiché il male è durato a lungo, il bene deve essere ormai vicino.”

— Miguel de Cervantes , Don Chisciotte