#Benedict bridgerton imagines

[shelbgrey]

She's like the wind (Benedict Bridgerton)

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton x virgin!Reader

Summary: after bottled up feeling becomes too much Benedict finally confesses his love to his childhood best friend.

Warrings: SMUT, innocent/virgin reader, first times, oral(F receiving), unprotected sex, pull out methods, Benedict being a total sweetheart like usual, kinda public sex? But not really(in a gazebo at night).

MasterList ML2

“What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict said to help Anthony, but in the end he couldn't keep his eyes off a certain someone as the words fell out of his mouth. It was words he always believed in, but never had the guts to act upon them.

“That's nice...” Anthony admited. He crossed his arms and nodded. “now if you resight those words to y/n that would be grand”

Benedict rolled his eyes, if it was one thing Anthony never gave up on was his little brother and the girl he considered his best friend.

-present day

It was late into the night, Benedict couldn't get her or the last few months out of his head. Benedict and y/n have always been so close, practically glued to the hip since childhood. A blind man could see the love they shared with one another, the problem is he's never made the move to court her

Whenever he gets closer or the spark becomes too much he backs off with the feeling of unworthiness. Anthony never fails with the snide comment about Benedict admitting his feelings.

That night he truly felt he messed up. He had gotten wrapped up with someone else after sharing a kiss with y/n months prior. He wanted everything to be more than alright, he wanted to have the courage to tell the only woman he truly loved that she is the only one he could ever want.

Benedict gave up on getting any sleep and walked out to the backyard. That's when he saw her on one of the swings alone. His heart skipped a beat, even in darkness and in her nightgown she was still unimaginably beautiful.

“You've been avoiding me…”

“I'm not avoiding you…” y/n sighed, avoiding eye contact and gently swung on the swing.

They had been avoiding each other, or y/n had been avoiding him. She had thought he loved her as much as she did him. Y/n had found out he's been sleeping around with someone else. I guess she just lost hope on a future with him.

Benedict let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He watched y/n swing for a few moments, the silence around making his heart beat faster than normal. The only sound was the creaking of the swing sets and the wind rustling the trees. He finally found the strength to speak. “We need to talk darling”

“I don't wish to talk to you” y/n snapped softly. She let out a frustrated huff, standing up from the swing and got back on it. This time she was standing on it with her back to Benedict, she didn't care if it was childish.

A frown came to his face as he saw her turn her back on him. He had to hold back a chuckle seeing y/n standing on the swing set, he thought it would be cute if he wasn't trying to earn her forgiveness.

Benedict took a step in front of y/n and stopped the swing with one hand. “You can be mad at me all you want darling, but we're talking about this”

“Of course I won't get a say in the matter” I said frustrated.

Benedict let out a sigh, placing his hand on the tree next to the swing, blocking her in. “you never had a problem speaking your mind to me before, so speak your mind”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I'm angry at you! You're the most intelligent, most dim-witted person I ever met, but then again I must be beating you on that one because I was dim-witted to think you could ever see more than your best friend”

He was surprised with the coldness in her voice, his heart broke at the thought of all the pain he caused her. “Darling, you think I can't see all that? you're the most beautiful, kindest, and smart woman I have ever laid eyes on. I see all of you, I always have”

“Why don't I believe you?” y/n asked in a heartbroken tone, trying to keep herself from tearing up. “bloody hell, do I actually mean anything more to you?”

“You do darling, you mean more to me than anyone else. You always have!”

Benedict's heart ached at the brokenness in her voice. He could see the pain in your eyes, the sight made him cringe in regret, wishing he had just spoke to her about his feelings instead of going off with the other girl.

“Please look at me” reached his free hand out, moving his fingers gently against her chin. Y/n looked away, tears pricking her eyes. “don't speak words you don't me... Especially don't speak words you'll regret later”

Benedict placed a gentle finger under y/n’s chin and finally turned her face to him, it shattered his heart more to see the tears in her eyes. “Please darling don't cry and please don't take what I say as lying”

He hated the silence, all he wanted to hear was her voice and more than ever he wanted to make sure she believed him. He leaned closer to y/n’s face, gently pressing his forehead against hers. He was desperate to make her believe him.

“I've loved you for as long as I can remember. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, something stirred within me, a connection that resonated deep in my soul.

As the years went by, my feelings for you only grew stronger, yet I found myself hiding them from you and from myself. I became tangled in a web of self-doubt and unworthiness. I convinced myself that I was unworthy of your love and strength, that my love meant nothing.

But now, looking back, You filled a part of my soul I didn't even realize was empty, you healed the scars I didn't even know were there. I see how foolish I was to ignore my heart for so long. Believe me when I say you're the thing I want most of all”

Y/n looked into his blue eyes, tears pooling out of her (e/c) ones. “benedict…”

Benedict couldn't bring himself to take his hands off her. He was trying to fight the urge to hold y/n tight against him, but he just couldn't. He lifted his hand up to her cheek, slowly wiping some of the tears away and caressed her skin. He leaned his head down ever so slightly, his mouth a few inches from hers. “Darling, Say you believe me.please”

Finally, y/n pressed her forehead against his, their noses bumping gently together. “I believe you” y/n whispered. Shebplaced her hands on both sides of his jaw as their breath mingled together.

Benedict exhaled heavily, the feeling of their skin touching together was like a soothing fire. It lit his soul with a passion that he had been trying to ignore. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, the sound of it thundering behind his eardrums.

He leaned even closer, only a breath still separating their lips. His eyes searched hers, his head was spinning with a burning desire, barely holding himself back. When she spoke those words that he longed to hear, the last thread of restraint broke. “Darling... Can I kiss you?”

“yes”

He couldn't resist any longer. His hand moved up into her hair, intertwining into the curls as his eyes flickered from your mouth to your eyes. He quickly closed the gap between their mouths. He captured her lips in a searing kiss. It was like a dam broke inside him. It was desperate and hungry yet needy, making her nearly lose balance off the swing she was standing on.

Benedict felt y/n start to stumble and he quickly wrapped one of his arms tightly around her waist as one of her arms wrapped around his neck and kept a strong hold of the rope on the swing with the other.

His lips moved softly but desperately against hers as he kept her from falling. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against his made him let out a small moan into the kiss. He held her in place, deepening the kiss. He kissed her like it was their first and last kiss. His tongue slowly swiped your bottom lip, begging for access.

Benedict pulled her off the swing, swiftly pushing her against the tree next to them. He heard the sweet moans coming from her lips. His tongue twirled against hers, tasting her sweet mouth. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her between the tree and himself. He tilted his head slightly, his mouth moving against hers at an angle. The feeling of his fingertips tracing along her curves made her heart pound against her chest. It made her feel exhilarated, nervous, and loved all at the same time.

Benedict broke the kiss when his hand reached the hem of y/n’s nightgown, his lips then traveled down the side of her neck. The feeling of her skin against his mouth left a trail of hot sparks. He stopped to gently kiss a sensitive part of your neck, his tongue slowly tracing the soft skin.

“w-wait” she, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. “y-you know I've n-never done this before” she whispered softly.

He stared at her with nothing but love as he gently held her hips with both his hands, his thumbs rubbing light circles on her skin as he held her against the tree.

“I know darling,” he replied, his voice low and deep, his eyes never leaving hers. “that's why we're not doing it here”

Benedict gently pulled y/n away from the tree, his hands never leaving her body. He looked into her eyes, watching the mixture of passion and nervousness in them. He felt his heart swell with love and desire for. He could practically feel all his emotions bubbling at the surface.

“Do you trust me?” he held his hand out.

The way his eyes stared into her soul, they were always her favorite feature of his. They held nothing but trust and love. “I trust you” y/n said softly and placed her hand in his.

Benedict felt a spark of electricity. His fingers tightened around hers, his hand fitting around it like a perfect missing piece. He lifted her hand up and slowly kissed her knuckles, his eyes not breaking eye contact. “Come darling, the night is still young”

Benedict led y/n through the yard, their hands never breaking from each other. The sound of their soft footsteps on the ground echoed slightly against the night air. The only other sound was from the crickets chirping in the grass and trees. Benedict led her to the gazebo in the very back of the yard, a spot usually hidden by the darkness of the night. It was a small structure, made of wood, with white paint and wisteria winding around it.

Y/n held his hand tight as they silently walked up the steps, her heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety. He wanted to soothe her anxiousness but he was nervous himself. So many years of loving her, dreaming of this moment, and he still couldn't believe it was finally happening. He stopped when she reached the top of the steps, looking into her eyes as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. His voice was low and gentle. “Just relax darling... It's just you and me here”

Y/n nodded, putting all her trust in him. “I know”

Benedict moved closer to her, his other hand gently coming up to caress the side of her face, his touch was soft and gentle. “You're safe with me darling. I promise I'll take good care of you”

“I know you will” she said softly.

He felt y/n’s hand press against his chest, right over his heart. It almost skipped a beat under her touch. He leaned a little closer, his head slowly lowering until his lips were hovering above hers. “And I promise to worship your body the way you deserve to be worshipped”

Y/n cupped his cheek, kissing him softly as he pressed her back against the pillar. His hands slowly moved to her waist, his fingers gently tracing up and down her curves. He leaned his body against hers, trapping her between him and the pillar.

Y/n moaned softly against his lips, her fingers slowly carding through his hair slowly as their tounges tangled together. Benedict ever so gently broke the kiss and started trailing kisses and gentle nips on her neck. He sucked gently on a spot just slightly below your ear, knowing how sensitive it was. His hands slowly inched higher under her nightgown and lifted you up from under your thighs, carrying her to the middle of the gazebo. He gently layed her down on a spread out quilt Hyacinth left. “are you comfortable here?” he asked softly, she nodded softly.

He knelt down, placing his knees on either side of her hips and leaned over her. He looked down with darkened eyes, slowly inching her nightgown higher. Benedict's eyes traced over her skin as it was slowly revealed to him. He placed his hands on your thighs, his fingers tracing up and down the soft skin. “You're so gorgeous, so beautiful” he said softly, making her blush.

A soft moan left her lips as the cool air hit her exposed skin. He leaned forward, bending over until his mouth was hovering above her stomach. “I'll be gentle, darling. We'll take it slow”

“I trust you” y/n whispered, giving him the green light. Benedict carefully removes her nightgown, throwing it to the other side of the gazebo. He stared down at her innocent beauty, taking a moment to just look at her.

The blush that formed under his gaze only caused his desire to increase. He lays his body down between her legs, his body hovering over her. He closed the distance, making Y/n moaned softly against his lips. She cupped his jaw as his lips clamed hers and gently.

Benedict lets out a low growl, his hands sliding down to her waist as he deepens the kiss. His heart is pounding in his chest. “y/n…”

“Y-yes?” she whisper, her heart pounding against her chest. She stared up at him, desperately wanting his clothes off when she felt his hard erection pressing against her thigh.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming out heavy as he leaned his forehead against hers. He tried to control his breathing but he was failing as all he could think of was just how badly he wanted her. “I need you, y/n. Will you let me make love to you?”

“Yes. God, yes” y/n moaned softly and desperately. Benedict looked down at her, his voice was husky and thick with need. “Tell me if you need to stop, darling. Tell me if it's too much” His hands started their travels again, tracing every curve and every inch of her body.

Y/n kissed back passionately as she started untucking his shirt from his pants. Benedict felt her hands work on the buttons of his shirt. The nervous tremble in her fingers made his heart skip a beat. “Here, darling,” Benedict gently moved her hands away from his shirt. He sat up, kneeling between her legs. He slowly lifted his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere off to the side.

Her thighs clenched together without realizing it. He watched the way her eyes roamed down his chest. The way she lightly touched him sent chills down his spine. He felt his legs jerk when her fingers traced down the V-line of his lower abdomen, his muscles taut, almost as if he was struggling to control himself.

“Darling” He whispered, his hands gently spreading her legs apart. “My beautiful y/n” He leans forward, pressing soft kisses along her inner thigh.

“B-ben” y/n moaned softly, her head fell back in pleasure as he trailed his lips up her inner thigh. Benedict's blue bord into hers, his gaze filled with love and desire. He never broke eye contact as he continued trailing kisses higher until he reaches her soaking clit, teasing her with gentle kisses and licks. “You taste like heaven”

Y/n moaned almost embarrassing loud, feeling his tounge against her fold for the first time. Out of instincted she arched her hips up, gripping his hair. He hums in pleasure at the taste of her, gripping her hips to hold them still. “Let go, my love,” He continues to lick and nip, his face soaked in her release as his tongue flicking at your clit. “You're mine”

Y/n wasn't completely clueless to sex, but the pleasure was intense and all she could think about was him. She moaned and cried his name as a new feeling tightened in her stomach. “B-ben... I t-think” she couldn't speak or think straight. “something is happening”

Benedict looks up at you. He speaks softly, his voice reassuring. “It's okay, my love. You're having your first orgasm” He picked up the pace, licking and sucking on her clit like a starved man. His fingers gently pressed against her entrance, pumping in and out slowly.

Y/n gripped his hair, arching her hips. “Benedict!”

Benedict, licking up every last drop of her release as she rode out her first orgasm. “You're so beautiful when you come, y/n”

He gives her folds one last lick then starts trailing kisses up her body, paying special attention to her breasts and nipples. “I'm going to make love to you now, are you ready?” He positions himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for any uncertainty.

“Will it hurt?” y/n asked softly, carding her fingers through his hair.

Benedict looks up at her, his blue eyes dark and filled with desire and love. “It might at first. But I promise it'll feel good after that. I promise I'm going to be gentle, darling”

Y/n nodded softly, he kissed her back gently, before breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. He positions himself at her entrance, taking her hips in his hand. “just tell me when you're ready”

“I'm ready” she said softly, taking a deep breath.

Benedict starts pushing inside slowly, his face contorting in concentration as he tries to be gentle. “Ah, y/n” He breathes out heavily, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/n wimpered at the slight sting, digging her nails into his back as he stretched her out. “B-Benedict”

He stills for a moment, letting her adjust to his size. “Shh, it's okay, my love. Just breathe” He kisses her forehead softly, his heart pounding in his chest. “You're doing so well” He whispered as he continues pushing inside, inch by inch. Once he was finally fully sheathed inside he starts to slowly rock his hips, trying to ease the pain.

Y/n held on to him tight, her breathing was heavy and she wimpered his name as she adjusted to his size. “B-Benny. Oh god, Ben” she moaned as the pain slowly turned into pleasure. He started picking up the pace, pushing deeper and deeper each time. “You feel amazing, y/n. So unbelievably good”

“Benny!” she moaned into the night, tugging at his hair. He hisses in pleasure, gripping her thighs to move them higher and wider. “Oh, y/n” He groans, thrusting deeper. “You're so beautiful, love the sounds you make”

“C-can you go faster?” she asked innocently. “p-please”

Benedict grits his teeth, fighting against his own desire to obey her request. “Faster, y/n?” He asks, his voice strained. “but ou have to promise me that you'll tell me the moment it becomes too much for you, okay? I don't want to hurt you, darling” He said looking into her eyes, his own filled with a burning intensity.

“You won't hurt me” she said softly.

He nods, his heart racing with excitement and concern. “okay, love” He grips her thighs even tighter and starts thrusting at a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing into the night. “Oh, y/n, you feel incredible” He moans, his eyes never breaking the inten eye contact.

Y/n trailed her hands done his back frantically, looking for somthing to hold onto to and ground herself. He growls at the feeling of her hand gripping his ass, his hips snapping with increased speed. “You're going to make me lose control” He warns, his voice deep and husky. “And I can't have that, darling.Not yet”

“W-why not?” she asked softly.

Benedict panting heavily, trying to regulate his breath. “Because when I lose control, I don't hold back.And I'm not sure you're ready for that, y/n” He said with a serious expression, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and desire.

Y/n grabed his face, cupping both sides of his jaw. She looked into his eyes wirh nothing but love and trust. “it's okay, we're okay to go harder”

He looks back at her, he stutters, unable to find words. His hips snap into hers again, causing him to lose his train of thought. He groans as his grip tightens on her thighs, making her head fall back in pleasure. She moaned his name like a prayer.

Benedict buries his face in her neck, his teeth marking her skin as he speaks against you. “y/n” He chants her name like a mantra, his love for her overwhelming him. “Fuck... You're everything to me” He whispers, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I love you” she moans, her teeth piercing his skin.

He lets out a groan, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. “I love you too, y/n. More than anything” He wraps his arms around her body tightly, holding her as he continues to thrust.

then that close, tight feeling in y/n's stomach hit her again and it was stronger than last time. She moaned his name, gripping his hair “I think…” she shuttered.

Benedict's eyes rolling back as he groans low in his throat. “Fuck, yes!” He thrusts harder now, chasing his own release. “I'm close, y/n” He pants, sweat dripping from his brow.

“I'm so close, Benny” as soon as those words fell from her lips the knot in her stomach snapped. She threw her head back moaning, her orgasm infecting her sences.

“y/n!” He roars, feeling your tight walls clenching around him. The feeling of her coming around him is too much for him to handle, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train. “w-where do you want me to come?” he aksed quickly.

Y/n’s heart was pounding against her chest, her orgasm still hitting her like a freight train. “I... I don't know” she said breathlessly, digging her nails into his back.

He groans. The feeling of her nails on his back causing him to thrust harder into her. “Fuck, Love” He takes a deep breath, his body feeling like it's on fire. “It's okay, I'll... I'll pull out, Darling”

He pulls out, causing y/n to moan as every inch of him slipped out of her soaking folds. He groans, coating her stomach in his cum as he holds himself up. He panted heavily. “y/n, fuck” He looks down at her, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “I need you to look at me, Darling” He gently tilts her head up to meet his gaze.

Benedict smiles, his thumb gently tracing her jawline. “You're so beautiful, Love” He leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back. “I love you. So much”

“I love you too” y/n says softly, making his heart fill with joy at your words. “I'm going to clean you up. You're all sticky. Okay?”

Benedict reaches over her, grabbing his shirt. “hold on, Darling” He gently cleans up the mess on her stomach before wiping between your legs. “when we get inside I'll run you a bath”

Y/n moaned softly as he cleaned between her thighs, the noise making Benedict glance up. His throat tightened at the sight of your beautiful, cum-covered body. “Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?”

“N-no. It felt amazing, ” she said softly, her eyes fluttering. “what we did” she whispered.

He glances up at y/n, his heart swelling with love for her. Benedict watches the blush spread across her cheeks. “You have no idea how much you mean to me” He leans in to place a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling away.

“let's get you inside” he gently picked her up bridal style, making sure the quilt is covering her exposed body. Benedict held her safe and close as he carried up to the house. He was cautious as he carried her to his room in case of anyone who might be awake in the late hours of the night.

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

masterlist

pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]

description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.

warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !

author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]

“You look astonishing, Y/N,” Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”

You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”

You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.

“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”

You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”

Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.

“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”

You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.

For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.

Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.

Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.

But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.

“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”

You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.

“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”

Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”

Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.

He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.

And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.

“Of course.”

You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.

“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”

You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”

As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.

When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.

“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”

Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.

“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”

Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”

You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.

“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”

You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.

With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.

Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.

“Are you waiting here for my brother?”

The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.

“Not for him, no.”

“Then for another?”

“I suppose so.”

“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”

“For me?”

The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.

Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.

“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.

He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”

You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”

“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”

“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”

The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”

You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”

“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”

“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”

“We do.”

You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.

“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.

“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”

He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.

“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.

“And I cannot wait.”

———

horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!

feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.

[allyjoe755]

Family Ties Pt. 1

Benedict Bridgerton x reader (no use of y/n)

request: from @caspianobsessed, "Can u please write about benedict and sharma sister reader , she comes to visit kate and meets ben for the first time. They meet one year later during reader's season and fall in love"

WC: 1541

a/n: This was so much fun to write. I have no idea what 19th century ghost possessed me to write the dialogue like I did but I'm not mad at it. There will be a part two! I hope you enjoy. And if you would like to be tagged in any future parts, please let me know.

warnings: none

o-o-o

Love was a challenging concept, because hearts— they were fickle things.

You had realized as much after your sister, Edwina’s, first social season… where she had been courted by Viscount Bridgerton only for your eldest sister, Kate, to ultimately become his wife.

But oh, were they in love. You could see it in their eyes on their wedding day— how they stared deeply at one another, as if no one else mattered in the world, as if their entire world, indeed, was standing right in front of them.

It was beautiful. Magnificent, truly.

You could only wish that something as magical as that might befall you one day.

You were a year younger than Edwina, and as such, a year out from your societal debut. You had not been present during the social gatherings or your sisters’ time spent at Aubrey Hall– due, in part, to you traveling with some extended family or other during that time. Besides names and vague descriptions granted to you through writing and on your return, you truly did not know any of the family your sister was marrying into.

And even then, you barely met any of them on the wedding day. A quick conversation introducing you to the now Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, and a nodding of heads acknowledging a few of the girls– Francesca and Eloise?– but that was it.

Viscount Bridgerton you knew, of course, but any of the others? Perhaps on looks alone you could pick out the eight of them from a crowd, but you did not know who was who.

Maybe that was why your heart thrummed so violently in your chest as you exited the carriage and stood in front of Aubrey Hall. The unknown. Yes, you were visiting your sister, but you feared less a chance encounter with a pack of ravenous wolves than the family Bridgerton, for at least you knew what to expect with the former.

You were sure they were kind– or at least amiable, as you doubted your sister would tolerate much less join a family that was not at least one of those things. That one piece of hope allowed you to tamper your nerves enough that when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, you were able to wear a placid smile as the footman escorted you to the drawing room.

He had not even finished announcing your name when your sister stood from where she was and practically dashed over to you, enveloping you in a hug. You both laughed, and tears came to your eyes.

“My dear, sweet sister,” Kate said, her smile bright as your embrace ended. “How I have missed you.”

“I have missed you as well!” You exclaimed. “Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, none of that here.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come. I should introduce you to everyone.”

She turned around and you now had a clearer image of the drawing room– or rather, who was in it. The Dowager Viscountess– you recognized her– stood and nodded her head to you. You nodded and curtsied in return.

One girl sat in a chair with a book in hand. She was one of the children you had met at the wedding… Eloise, you believed? Yet the others you were not sure you entirely recognized.

“At the piano is Francesca,” Kate began. “Please, do not stop playing on our account; my sister and I are both lovers of music,” she told the young woman. “Over there is Eloise, and of course you know the Dowager Viscountess… Anthony is away on some business at the moment, but should be joining us for our meal. And, of course, the duchess is not present, as she is in Hastings.

“And here,” she said, bringing you to a table toward the end of the room, “are Gregory, Benedict, Colin, and–”

“Hyacinth!” The young girl announced, standing to do a quick curtsy to you. “It is a delight to meet you; we’ve heard so many great things!”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to blossom on your face. What had you been worried for? Only a few minutes, and you could already tell they were a wonderful family. “I’m so very glad to hear it,” you returned. You looked down at the table. “What game are you all playing?”

“It is a very simple game,” Hyacinth grandly explained, “in which one seeks the highest scoring hand by trading their cards until the round is over."

You smiled. "Trade and Barter?"

"Colin says it is called Commerce in France," Hyacinth responded, "which I think is a far more clever name." She looked up at you, and you thought that if this was how all of the family was, you would like the Bridgertons very much indeed. 

"Would you care to join us?" Colin offered.

"If there is room for one more," you said.

"Of course there is room," he replied, and there was a momentary shuffling of chairs, a command for Gregory to grab another seat, and suddenly you were sat between the youngest at the table and the oldest as your sister went back to sit with her mother-in-law.

Assuming, of course, that Benedict was in fact the second oldest and Hyacinth the youngest, if their names and your common sense had anything to tell you.

Another thing your common sense told you: the Bridgertons were a beautiful family. You read Lady Whistledown, of course, and had heard of the Bridgerton good looks, but seeing them in person…

You were being ridiculous, you knew. This was your sister’s family– Kate’s family. You should not have been noticing anything besides their friendliness.

You definitely should not have been noticing how you thought Benedict the most handsome, with his chestnut hair and gleaming eyes and soft smile, or how butterflies flapped in your stomach when your seat was placed next to his, or how nice he smelled when you sat down.

It was Gregory's turn to deal. Once your cards were dealt, you picked them up, glanced at them, and held them close to your chest.

Benedict leaned toward you ever so slightly. “Be sure to keep a neutral look about you. The younger ones do have eyes like hawks about these things.”

You let out a laugh. “You must remember my sisters,” you replied. “Edwina and Kate and I have had a fair share of card games ourselves.”

And so it went like that, around the table taking turns, watching the other players in hopes that their faces would reveal their hands, with laughter echoing in the drawing room.

“How is it that we haven't met you before today?” Hyacinth asked as she scooped over the pool of coins to her personal stash.

“I was traveling with family,” you explained. “Although I was at the wedding; it was just a busy day and so we did not get to meet.

“Where did you travel to?” and “So you are not out in society yet?” were the next questions asked, by, to your surprise, Colin and Benedict respectively. They then both apologized in tandem, and you pressed your lips together to stifle a giggle.

“No, I am not out in society yet–” you answered Benedict first– “but my debut will be this next season. And we were just in the countryside, mostly, but I did think it a rather splendid trip. There were many libraries and parks where we stayed, which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“You enjoy reading?” Benedict asked yet another question, and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you were giddy by it.

“I would say that I rather enjoy all the arts,” you said. “Reading, writing, music… I can play the pianoforte, but not nearly as well as your sister. Her mastery is a true gift.”

“And what about visual arts?” Colin asked. “Drawings and paintings and sculptures… are you a fan of those as well?”

You nodded. “Of course. I was told there were great art exhibits in London. My mother and I are planning on visiting some of them when we are there for my season.”

“Perhaps Benedict could join you!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “He is a lover of art. In fact, he is quite the artist himself. He was a student at the Royal Academy of Art.”

Benedict let out a rather awkward laugh, and you felt your face grow flush. Hyacinth did not know what she was proposing– but a debutante and a bachelor on an outing, during the social season?

It was preposterous, and suggestive, and almost romantic.

Yet you loved the idea of it.

“A student?” You said, hoping to ignore Hyacinth’s other comment and continue with the conversation. “You must have very nice work.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quickly responded, and then cleared his throat. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment before you both looked away.

“It might be time for our meal soon,” Colin announced, standing up from his seat and saving you and his brother from any more embarrassment. “Hyacinth?”

“Yes, brother?”

“We shall leave it up to Benedict and our guest to determine what they would like to do during the social season.” He began towards the door, opened it, and turned to address the rest of the group. “Shall we?”

[crazyk-imagine]

Obsession lies Beneath

Pairing: Dark!Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Characters: Dark!Benedict Bridgerton, Fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton

Warnings: Slight dark fic content, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, Benedict gas lighting reader, special tea use, Benedict getting high, reader is innocent, reader not your average dark fic reader, near the end of season 2, reader can be oblivious

Word Count: 2,016

Requested by: @flowercrowns-goodvibes probably something along the lines of him being obsessed with reader and wanting her to marry him, and basically trapping her with no other choice because he knows she’s the only one for him. maybe through arranged or forced marriage or kidnapping

A/N: This is my first dark fic so if it's kind of off or not a normal dark fic, yk why

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

After taking the drug infused tea, he got addicted and couldn't do anything else to calm himself other than create terrible art and then came you.

He had no idea what to do then, it felt like there was nothing he could do but then there you were, and he was hooked (in more ways than one).

It was the latest season for young, eligible ladies to do their best at finding a man to call husband and, from his dear sister, he hears you have no one to call your own.

Although it may be troubling for your family, it does leave room for happiness within him, in his hazy mind.

There’s no one eligible enough to marry you, not when he plans on having you for himself (even if you don’t know it yet).

He closes his eyes, imagining you in more ways than one should. No one knows about this, the way he thinks of you.

How could they? They’d think he was insane and lock him up or banish him into his room with nothing to entertain him with.

Either way, a life without being able to see you is not a way he could live- survive even.

The first time he started thinking of you in a mature way, was an accident but once was enough for him to become addicted, a habit he can't break.

His brother couldn't have known what would become of him when he first offered the tea to him, it's not his fault.

Benedict doesn't remember how he got it since his brother was traveling but, as he sips his tea once more and it flows through his veins, he doesn't care.

His mind slows down the more he drinks and the more he drinks, the more he creates. He sets the cup down, staring at the page and sighs. He groans loudly to himself, "why isn't it, right?"

-

You follow Eloise, who happily drags you along with her.

After her minor falling out with Penelope, she didn't explain much about what happened nor did you ask, feeling it wasn’t your place to do so. She needed a friend and found- or re-found you.

You knew the family when you were little but moved away because your father had gotten a business proposal to work out of town and now that your family is settled and has gained a profitable fortune, you decided to come back to the one place you felt... at home.

Daphne, Eloise, and Anthony were the ones you spoke to the most during your youth, not speaking to the others as much and felt you could build a bond with them but didn't want to make them uncomfortable.

Benedict though, he noticed you; he always did. It became a habit over time, another thing he couldn't break, a nasty habit he knows some would say.

She enters with ease, not minding the noises coming from her brother, who disagrees with the sound of someone entering.

With the tea fully sated in his stomach, he stares at you for a little too long; not that you noticed.

You almost never do, not that he minded, it fills his obsession, and he enjoys the fact that you're a little too oblivious to his antics. You wander around the room and his skin feels like it's on fire.

Have you gotten more beautiful since the last time he saw you (two days ago).

You stand beside him and the scent of your perfume wafts through his nose, he closes his eyes, memorizing the scent to memory.

His eyes open, pupils dilating but no one notices as he offers a small smile. "Has something caught your eye?"

You turn your head to face him, a shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Sorry, I was curious about this one. You seem so," you pause and work on finding the right word. "Focused. I've always wanted to see an artist at work."

Could this be the sign he's been waiting for since you two grew into young adults? "Have you? Perhaps-"

"You've helped me enough, we're leaving now," Eloise pulls you alongside her. "We'll see you at dinner."

His chest heaves after he rolls his neck and turns to his left, reaching for his cup. This seems to be the only thing keeping him sated as he waits to see you again at dinner.

-

He enters and his eyes are on you, the seat beside you is open, giving him the opportunity to take it before anyone else can. His hands shake as he reaches for the utensils, freezing when your pinkies accidentally bump into one another.

He feels hot the longer he sits beside you. He makes small conversations when you initiate it but there's only so much, he can do without making him sound like a complete idiot.

God knows what would happen if he was to make a fool of himself in front of you, the person of his dreams.

His mind wanders and he's lost in thought with... you are laying on the couch beneath his window, showing just enough skin to make him lose his cool. He'd lean closer towards you and lean in, listening to every little noise that comes from you.

He would stare into your eyes until he's close enough to gather the courage and kiss your perfect lips. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to close his eyes at first, longing to see every twitch of your eyes, even though they're closed.

He'd study you every moment he could (and does). He owlishly blinks, finding you looking at him, a questioning look on your face. "I'm- I'm sorry?"

"Are you feeling alright?"

Oh, your caring nature, how his heart beats faster when it's directed at him. You're too kind to someone having such crude thoughts as he; fitting really.

He messes with the napkin in his lap. "I- I- I'm fine, believe me I am more than fine," he mutters the last part under his breath, not wanting you or anyone to overhear him share his thoughts.

-

He ponders the drawing, trying to figure out what's missing but can't and rips the page out of his sketchbook before crumpling it and tossing it across the room.

The ball of paper lands at your feet, you don't know what to do. "Is everything alright?" You ask.

His body tenses. "Are you spending the night?"

"Unexpectedly, the carriage broke, and repairs won't be able to start until tomorrow when there's more lighting." He nods, glancing down to find the cut on his hand from when- he discreetly wipes his hand before you can see it.

"Are you working on something else?" You step closer, inspecting it with intense interest, one Benedict could barely wrap his head around.

"Aren't I always?" He jokes.

You chuckle at the joke because it's true, lately he hasn't been able to focus, nor has he been able to continue with one project. "Are you drawing a model?" You tilt your head, trying to figure out the position you're seeing. "Is that- you draw nude models?"

He nods, "I do, it's one of the important ways an artist can capture the human body on paper." In his haze, he sees the way your eyes trail back to the page even as flustered as you are, you're human and seeing something like this, his art; it exhilarates him. "Would you want to be my model?"

Your head snaps over to him. "Me?" You stutter, "I don't- I don't think that'd be such a good idea. I'm not- I'm not the model type."

"Nonsense," he shakes his head. "You are the perfect model."

"I don't think this is an appropriate topic we should be discussing, Mr. Bridgerton-"

He grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. "It's a harmless conversation between adults, is it not?"

He takes in your figure, then your dress, and your hair; all of it, reminding him of a little lamb (one who's wandered into the wrong den). A little lamb away from its family, all alone and waiting for its hunter to snatch it up.

"I suppose but-"

"I mean, it's not as if you'd actually be willing to model for me. It's just a conversation about art." Said the lion to guide the prey into his trap, he thought to himself.

"That- that's true."

Are you truly thinking about offering to accept and be his model? Even when you know if someone were to find out, your reputation would be ruined?

"I want to do it."

"Do you?" A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lips. And the lion caught the lamb. "Why don't we start now?"

You hesitate, fiddling with the sides of your dress. "I don't know. I don't think now is the-"

"If we do it now, no one will know. Everyone in the house is asleep and if they aren't, they know better than to disturb me when I'm working."

"I," you gulp before nodding. "Okay."

Maybe he's right, now would be a more idle time to practice.

"Okay?"

You give him a reassuring look.

-

He turns, the chesire cat like smile never fading even as he adjusts you to the position, he knows will come out perfectly.

You're nervous, letting him see you this way, so exposed, your heart beats at a mile a minute. You don't know whether to let him continue or leave while your morals are (barely) intact.

He glances up; the charcoal dancing across the paper brings you out of your thoughts. "Can I move? My arm is hurting."

"Not yet."

"But-"

"I said, not yet!" He elevates his voice.

You gulp, not saying anything further, deciding it's best not to aggravate him further.

After a while and 2 candles later, a satisfied sigh escapes him.

Your shoulders feel lighter, knowing that he's happy with his latest creation.

"You," he starts off.

You open your eyes, turning your head to face him, seeing his proud expression.

"You are my best model, I- you are my new muse."

You start pushing yourself up.

The smile falls from his face, "what are you doing?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "I'm getting up because we're done," you say even though it sounds more like a question the longer you stare at him and take it his expression.

"We have more to do," he sets his sketch book onto the table beside him. "You are the inspiration I have been looking for. You are the reason I will thrive in school, even if my brother paid for my seat."

He kneels beside you, "we will be well-known because of your beauty," he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "And my skills." He switches between looking into one eye and then the other. "But I can see tonight was a lot, you're tired and should get some sleep."

You don't say another word as you sit up, holding the blanket close to you.

-

He helps you with your corset, making you feel as though you did something wrong.

You shouldn't have done this.

He wraps his arms around your waist. "Get some rest, we'll get a head start tomorrow."

"I- I don't-"

"Don't tell me no, please. I can't do this without you," he spins you around to face him. "I wouldn’t survive without your help. You are the reason I can create again. Please don't leave me alone."

How can you say no when he stares at you like that?

You can't tell him no and then come to the house and pretend as if you didn't do this, pretend as if everything is okay.

"What if someone found out about you modeling for me tonight? What would happen to your family?"

You furrow your brows, suddenly your thoughts spiral back to the beginning of tonight and it's something you shouldn't have agreed to but it's too late to back out; you're too involved and he's the only one who can save you.

You no longer feel at home.

-

Tag list

@readingwithsass

[imgondeletedis]

hey guys so

who would be interested if i wrote a mini-series Benedict bridgerton x reader, like a dark multi-shot, might or might not be inspired by fortnight by Taylor Swift because in my opinion one of the complex songs on this album, you've got to trust the process, I MIGHT GET A LOT OF BLACK LASH BUT ALRIGHT I am kinda proud of it, gonna include a slight cheating warning. So who wants to be on the taglist?

Gif not mine obviously.

Will also post on ao3 if someone's actually interested hehehe

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Masquerade

benedict bridgerton x female reader

The Bridgerton estate was alive with the sound of laughter and music as the masquerade ball reached its peak. Twinkling lights hung from the ceilings, casting a soft, magical glow over the ballroom. Guests in elaborate masks and elegant gowns filled the space, their identities hidden behind intricate designs.

Benedict Bridgerton, dressed in a sleek black suit with a matching mask that covered the upper half of his face, stood by the edge of the ballroom, his eyes scanning the crowd. His mother had insisted he attend the ball, hoping he might meet someone special. He had danced with several women, each one charming in her own way, but none had captured his attention until he saw her.

She stood near the grand staircase, wearing a deep green gown that hugged her figure perfectly. Her mask, adorned with emeralds, matched her dress and concealed her face, but her eyes sparkled like jewels. Benedict felt an inexplicable pull toward her, a sense of familiarity and intrigue that he couldn't ignore.

Gathering his courage, he approached her, his heart pounding with anticipation. "May I have this dance?" he asked, extending his hand.

She turned to him, her eyes meeting his through the mask. There was a moment of hesitation before she placed her hand in his. "I'd be delighted," she replied, her voice soft and captivating.

As they moved to the center of the ballroom, Benedict was enveloped by her presence. The scent of lavender wafted from her, intoxicating and familiar. He couldn't help but draw closer, his arm wrapping around her waist as they began to dance. The world around them seemed to blur, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of enchantment.

"Have we met before?" Benedict asked, his voice low and intimate.

She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Perhaps we have, or perhaps we haven't. That's the beauty of a masquerade, isn't it?"

He chuckled, intrigued by her evasiveness. "You have a point. But I can't help feeling like I've known you forever."

Their dance continued, each step bringing them closer. Benedict found himself captivated by her grace, her intelligence, and the way she made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. The warmth of her body pressed against his sent a shiver down his spine, and he fought the urge to pull her even closer.

"Tell me something about yourself," he murmured, his lips close to her ear.

She looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything. Everything."

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I love books. I could spend hours lost in a good story."

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with affection. "A woman after my own heart. What else?"

"I enjoy painting. It's a passion of mine."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I paint as well. Perhaps we could share our works someday."

"Perhaps," she said, her eyes twinkling with promise.

The music swelled, and they continued to dance, lost in each other. Benedict couldn't get enough of her the way she moved, the scent of lavender that clung to her, the sparkle in her eyes. He wanted to know everything about her, to uncover the mystery behind the mask.

As the song came to an end, Benedict reluctantly released her, his hand lingering on hers. "May I know your name?"

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sadness. "Some things are better left a mystery," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Before he could protest, she slipped from his grasp, disappearing into the crowd. Benedict stood there, feeling a sense of loss that he couldn't quite explain. He had met countless women in his life, but none had left such a profound impact on him.

Days turned into weeks, and Benedict couldn't get her out of his mind. He attended every social event, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be found. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, leaving him with nothing but memories of their magical night.

One evening, while walking through the park, he caught a whiff of lavender. His heart leaped, and he turned around, scanning the area. And there she was, standing by a blooming rose bush, her back to him. He recognized her instantly the elegant posture, the cascade of waves down her back.

"Miss" he called out, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and longing.

She turned around slowly, and their eyes met. Those green eyes, sparkling with the same warmth and mystery he remembered, gazed back at him. She smiled, and Benedict felt his heart swell with joy.

"My Lord," she greeted softly, the sound of his name on her lips sending a shiver down his spine

He approached her, his steps tentative as if he feared she might vanish again. "I've been searching for you," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "I couldn't get you out of my mind. Your eyes, the way they sparkled, the scent of lavender... It all stayed with me."

She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I couldn't forget you either. But I had my reasons for staying hidden."

"Whatever those reasons are," Benedict said, taking her hand in his, "I want to know you, truly know you. The woman behind the mask."

She squeezed his hand gently, her touch sending warmth through his body. "And I want to know you, Benedict. But I need to take things slowly."

"Whatever it takes," he promised, his eyes locked with hers. "I'll wait as long as you need."

Their afternoons together became a cherished routine. They strolled through parks, attended art exhibits, and shared intimate conversations over tea. Benedict found himself falling deeper in love with her each day. He learned her favorite books, her dreams, and even her fears. And she, in turn, learned about his family, his passion for art, and his hopes for the future.

One evening, as they walked along the Thames, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the water, Benedict turned to her, his heart pounding in his chest. "There's something I need to say."

She looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling in the fading light. "What is it, Benedict?"

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he held hers. "I’m falling in love with you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've loved you since that night at the masquerade. Every moment we've spent together has only made my feelings stronger. I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she reached up to caress his cheek. "Oh, Benedict, as am I”she whispered, her voice breaking.

As they made their way back to the Bridgerton estate, the night air cool and crisp, Benedict’s heart raced with anticipation. He led her through the grand hallways, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. His hand remained entwined with hers, their connection growing stronger with each step.

When they reached his chambers, Benedict paused, turning to her with a look of tender intensity. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes shimmering with desire. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He opened the door, guiding her inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candlelight, casting warm shadows on the walls. Benedict closed the door behind them, the sound of the latch clicking shut echoing in the stillness.

He turned to her, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and reverence. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, her breath hitching in her throat.

“Benedict,” she murmured, her voice a blend of anticipation and need.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the nights he had dreamed of her, all the moments he had longed to be close to her. She responded with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

With a gentle urgency, Benedict began to unlace her gown, his fingers deftly working the intricate ties. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, revealing the soft curves of her body. He drank in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against the buttons of his shirt. “So are you,” she replied, her eyes locking with his.

They undressed each other slowly, savoring every touch, every kiss. When they were finally bare before each other, Benedict scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply.

Their lovemaking was a dance of passion and tenderness, a symphony of whispered words and shared breaths. Benedict explored every inch of her body, his hands and lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She arched beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she urged him on.

"Benedict," she gasped, her voice filled with longing.

He looked into her eyes, his own filled with love and desire. "I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you too," she replied, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

With a final, deep kiss, Benedict joined their bodies, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other, their hearts beating in perfect unison. The scent of lavender filled the air, mingling with the heady scent of their passion.

As they reached the peak of their lovemaking, Benedict's name spilled from her lips in a cry of ecstasy, and he followed her over the edge, their bodies trembling with the force of their release. They clung to each other, their breaths mingling as they came down from the heights of their passion.

Benedict held her close, his heart swelling with a love so profound it left him breathless. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and reverence. "And I am yours."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a deep, abiding love. "Always," she replied, her voice a soft promise.

In the quiet of his chambers, wrapped in each other's arms, they found a peace and fulfillment they had longed for. The mystery of the masquerade had brought them together, but it was their love that would keep them bound for a lifetime. And as she drifted off to sleep, the scent of lavender still lingering in the air, Benedict knew that he had found his forever in her. With a tender smile, he reached for the small velvet box he had hidden in the drawer of his bedside table. He opened it to reveal a delicate gold ring, adorned with a single, sparkling emerald that matched her eyes.

Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped the ring onto her finger, his heart swelling with emotion. He kissed her hand softly, whispering, “You are my everything.”

like and comment thoughts :)

[fangirliexpects]

Oh, Benedict Bridgerton, the man that you are

[band--psycho]

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader- Just Once

Thank you to the lovely anon who sent this ask in!

I'm sorry this has taken me so long to write; but I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

(Dialogue Prompt: 73 - It's you, it's always been you)

Warnings: Abusive partner, cheating

Today was the day. 

Probably one of the most important days in Benedict’s life. And though he smiled and looked as though this day was the day he’d dreamed of.

It was not. 

He could not admit it, not to anyone. But there was something in the way his mother smiled at him, the way Daphne looked at him and hidden in Anthony’s worlds, that made it clear to Benedict that they saw right through his facade. 

Today was the day he proposed to Alina Fairfax. 

Alina was a lovely woman, polite, kind, pretty…she had all the good qualities of a wife, except he did not love her. 

He tried.

But there was only one woman for the second eldest Bridgerton and that was his childhood friend, Y/n Y/l/n. 

Y/n was the only one who had really ever captured his heart. She just had this way about her; her eyes seemed to light up a room and her laugh…oh her laugh, it was infectious, in a way that would quite often have them both belly laughing. 

She was a lady; but she was not afraid to speak her mind, regardless of whether or not people wanted to hear her opinion. But she was also one of the friendliest and warmest people he had ever known. 

He wanted to be with her; he just realised it too late. And now Y/n was with someone else. 

~~~~

“How are you?” Benedict asked softly, sitting down next to Y/n on the bench in the garden of his family estate. 

Y/n had been different these past few hours; distant. Whenever he attempted to talk to her, she walked away from him. It was like she was purposefully avoiding him and he could not work out why. 

It took Y/n a few moments to speak the words, “I am perfectly fine, Mr Bridgerton.”

The hesitation. The fake smile that followed her words and the fact that she had called him ‘Mr Bridgerton’ made it very clear to him that she was not fine. 

“Y/n-”

“You should be with your fiancé,” Y/n interjected, rising from the bench, “And I should be with John,”

Benedict had never liked John; and it was not just because of the fact that he was courting Y/n. And today, Benedict could have damn near killed the man. 

Whilst Benedict was down on one knee, proposing to Aline, he saw John and Y/n on the other side of the park. He could tell by both of their body languages that the conversation they were having was tense to say the least. That’s not what caused Benedict’s anger, he knew that couples argue, but when John grabbed Y/ns arm, Benedict wanted nothing more than to punch him for laying a hand on her. Had it not been for all of the eyes that were focused on him, he probably would have. 

“What happened earlier?” he questioned, also rising from the bench, “Between you and John.”

In that moment he swore he saw a flicker of fear form in her gorgeous y/e/c eyes and that sight alone was enough to make the blood in his veins boil. 

“Something and nothing, I can assure you, it is all sorted now,” Y/n answered.

But her words only confused Benedict. The voice saying those words was hers, but the words themselves seemed so foreign to anything Y/n would normally say, especially to him. 

She was lying to him. 

He knew that; having known her for so many years, it was obvious to him. 

What he could not figure out was why. 

Of course her and John had been courting for around a month, but she did not owe him anything and yet Benedict had a feeling that she was lying to him to protect John. 

“He hurt you.” 

It was not a question. No. Benedict was stating a fact. And thought his tone was gentle, he could already feel his anger increasing. 

Y/n did not say anything; but her silence spoke volumes. 

Carefully, Benedict reached out to her, his hands connecting with the sleeves of her dress. He half expected Y/n to pull away , but she did not, so he continued. He gently lifted up her sleeve, exposing a bright red mark around his wrist. 

“I’ll kill him,” he whispered under his breath, letting go of Y/n's arm; but his words were loud enough for her to hear. 

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. 

“He hurt you, so yes I can,” 

“If you go inside there and make a scene, it will make both of our situations worse,” she countered, pulling him backwards towards a slightly darker area, a few trees shielding them from prying eyes. 

Benedict's eyes narrowed, his confusion at her words evident. 

“We were arguing about you,” Y/n began, pausing for a few moments to take a deep breath in and collect herself, “About how close we are.”

“We’re friends, we have been since we were children,” Benedict stated, feeling his heart ache a little as the words left his lips. 

Friends…that’s what they were and no matter how much he yearned for something more he knew it could never be. 

Before he could continue with what he was saying; he heard a small scoff leave Y/n's lips as she rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve loved you since I was old enough to know what love meant,” she snapped, catching not only Benedict off guard but herself also. 

It was the first time she had ever said those words aloud. 

“What?” Benedict stuttered out, a tidal wave of emotions washing over him as his eyes met hers.

Y/n loved him? She had always loved him..? 

“I love you,” Y/n repeated her voice softer now. 

“John knows…not that I have told him…but he saw how I looked at you when you proposed to Alina,” she explained.

Jealousy. Y/n Y/l/ was jealous, now that was a first. 

“Why did you not tell me?” 

The pain was evident in Benedict's voice. Had Y/n been honest about her feelings, they could have been married by now. 

“Because you never showed any interest, I assumed you did not feel the same. I knew that you would reject me..and losing you from my life…” 

It was true. 

All those years of growing up with one another, and Benedict only ever treated her as a friend, with no hint of ever wanting to be anything more. He was her best friend; he had seen her at her best and at her worst and stuck by her through all of it; she trusted him more than she did her own family; and losing him as her friend scared her more than rejection ever could. 

Part of her wanted to wait for him; to see if he could ever love her the way she loved him.

But it was all just a pipe dream, a wish fantasful wish of a young girl in love. 

She was older now; and she had waited for him for so long she finally realised that he did not feel that way about her. 

So she did the hardest thing she had ever had to, she moved on. 

She tried to move on with John; but he was not Benedict. 

“You would never lose me,” he breathed; his hand reaching out to hers; before intertwining his fingers with hers. 

“It’s you, it’s always been you,” he continued, pulling her ever so closer.

“I am sorry I have only had the courage to tell you now,” he glanced down at her lips before meeting her eyes once again; slowly leaning forward, until their foreheads were touching. 

“Ben-” Y/n whispered; their only lips inches apart.  She should have pulled away, she knew she should have. But she did not. She could not. She wanted this. She wanted him. Regardless of what it would do to her reputation in the ton. 

“Shhh,” he cooed, hooking a finger under her chin, tilting her head up slightly while his thumb ghosted over her lips.

“Just once,” she quietly said; her eyes flickering between his lips and his gorgeous eyes. 

She did not know who she was trying to convince.

“Just once,” he agreed, before leaning down, crashing his lips against hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist. 

‘Just once’ Benedict thought to himself as his lips molded against hers; but how? How could this be the only time he felt Y/ns soft lips against his? How could this be the only time he felt her this close to him? 

How? 

He could not let this be the only time he held her like this, kissed her like this…

‘Just once’ Y/n thought also to herself, standing on the tips of her toes as she wrapped her arms around the back of Benedict’s neck, pulling him closer, wishing that this moment could last forever.  

But it could not. 

And they both knew that. 

“We should get back,” Y/n mumbled, pulling away from Benedict’s embrace. 

“Y/n-”

“We agreed, just once, Mr Bridgerton,” she stated, her tone cold; even though she could already feel her heart break as she said those words. 

She could feel the tears brimming in her eyes so she quickly walked back to the party,despite the fact she wanted nothing more than to stay with him. But this was not a dream. This was real life…they had both made choices, choices that have now changed their lives. Their future.

They could never be together.

But for those few moments, they had a glimpse of what their future could have been…and that made walking away hurt all the more. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @rexit-mo @lawstudentbydayfangirlbynight @lucyysthings @whoreforpsychopaths @ifilwtmfc @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @drabby-abby @freyathehuntress @flourishandblotts-inc @tubble-wubble @yogiikyun @ssprayberrythings @livstilinski @fangirling-galore @wild-rose-35 @samanthaofanarchy @choochoo284 @jeyramarie @awesomebooklover17 @juliejulesblog @alexa-myr @jessyballet @londonalozzy @mrsamerica @poisxnedmind @qualitywitchchaos @werewolfbansheelove @navs-bhat @tinystudentmiracle @tinglingspideysenses @maddog @strawberrybitch3 @lantsovcolors @kianifan @poguestyleskye @qualitybelieverflower @livy26600 @mosthatedrenyjia @benedictscanvas @alcottsangel @bookworm1767 @book-dragon03 @yn-ymn-yln

[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

[mystcldydrms]

ONE SHOTS:

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BLURBS:

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HEADCANONS:

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JUST IMAGINE:

(1)

[shelbgrey]

Smut Alphabet(Benedict Bridgerton)

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton x Wife!Reader

Summary: it's smut again, but this time it's with the hottest Bridgerton Brother

Tags: @shoyooss

MasterList ML2

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's very attentive when it comes to aftercare, all he cares about is your comfort. If it was a particularly rougher night he'll hold you and kiss every mark while you catch your breath. After you have mentally and physically calm down, he'll run you a hot bath and clean you up.

If it was your first time he'll make sure you're not hurting to tell you how good you did. Once he knows you're not hurt he'll clean up any mess you both made.

He's so soft and will praise you to no end “you did so good for me Darling, I wasn’t too rough was I?”

He's honestly never felt something so intense than the first time you had sex together in his life.

B = Body part (your favorite body part of his and his favorite of yours)

Everything and anything to do with his eyes is just perfect to you. The way he keeps eye contact during sex is so intense. It's amazing how those greenish-blue eyes can be so sweet and playful then turn dark with lust and intensity in the next.

You love his hands, they can be so rough then gentle in the next. The way he rubs your clit in slow circles while he pounds into you or the way he reaches down and pulls at your hair back when you're giving him head.

He's a boob guy. He'll bury his face into your boobs as he pounds into you. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair as he bites and sucks on your skin. He honestly can’t get enough.

He also loves your thighs. Just the feeling of his hands moving up to grasp your thighs and pulling them around his hip, letting your body know he wanted you closer.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…I’m a disgusting person)

He always puts your pleasure above his, he loves Nothing more than to make you cum on his tongue.

He'll lap at your clit with so much hunger, circling his tounge over your swollen bud until you're a moaning mess. When he thinks he's teased you enough he'll take it into his mouth, eating you out like a starving man until you're cumming hard on his tongue.

“I want to see you fall apart for me”

Sometimes he needs to feel you cum around him first. The feeling of your body convulse around him will trigger his release. He'll bury his face in the crook of your neck and keep bucking his hips into yours until he feels himself become spent. “Christ you're beautiful...”

he'll groan as you suck him hard, his hips moving erratically as he gets close to cumming hard down your throat. He'll tangle his fingers in your hair as he shoots a load down your throat.

“Benedict... Ben I'm close” you moaned desperately.

Your desperate voice would urge him to buck his hips faster against yours. He'd nipped your skin, whispering: “Come for me, darling” His hands moved to your hips, holding you steady as he felt your walls tighten around him.

D = Dominant? (Pretty self-explanatory, how dominant is he)

He's very much the dominant person in the bedroom, but he wants to know you're both in control. He'll order you around and be rough, but the moment you say stop or slowly down he will immediately.

He'd probably realize how dominant he was when he was guiding you through your first time, being able to teach you and guide you through it. You trusted him enough to give him control. Of course he wasn't rough with you and continued to guide you in a gentle way the first time.

He'll move fast and softly, but he's also paying close attention to you and your body language. Like he'll pause, giving you time to adjust to the sensation of his cock inside you if you're taking him for the first time, but he'll remain in control. “Breathe, love... Let your body get used to it”

He'll be in control, but he also gives you a sense of safety and surrender.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's very experienced and knows how to pleasure a woman, he's modest and cocky at the sametime about it.

He won't care if you're not experienced, he'll guide you through the whole damn process and still make you see stars by the end of it.

With him being experienced he'd love to teach you and help you explore what you like or want during sex, he's so patient and he gets smug when he finds the small and big things that make you tick.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He loves missionary, keeping eye contact while he fucks you. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.

Is this even a position? Who cares, but Benedict loves to setting ontop of a desk with him standing between your legs while he fucks you.

Just the sight of having you purchded on the desk with your thighs spread apart drives him nuts. “Look at you, so pretty and open for me”

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He can be so goofy, it's natural given he has such a carefree, loving personality. Sex is an important thing he wants between you and him, but it's a way for you to be close and show the comfort you take in one another. You're comfortable with each other so of course he'll crack a few jokes.

He's mostly a jokester in the end depending on the situation. Like one time you broke a desk in the library of the house. “I think we broke it” he laughed at the desk that obviously crumbled to the floor. “I think so too”

H = Hair(Hair pulling?)

He didn't realize how much he actually liked it until you started pulling on his hair while he was eating you out. “damn... Do that again... Please”

He just loves it when you tug at his hair, especially when he's eating you out.

Benedict loves feeling your fingers in his hair just in general.

He also loves to tangle his fingers in your hair and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

He also just loves playing with your hair, especially aftr sex and you're resting in bed with your head on his chest. It gives him perfect acses to run his fingers through it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's such a romantic and puts thought into every moment even if it's a heat of the moment situation. He made sure your first time was special and he intends to make every other time that way, he knows you deserve it.

He's also so intimant and sweet with words. “why are you looking at me like that?” you asked softly. To which he replies: “Like what, my love? Like I want to devour you whole? Like I can't believe how beautiful you are? Like I'm the luckiest man alive to have you in my arms?”

J = Jealous? (Is he the jealous type? Are you?)

Benedict is very easy to read, so if he's jealous you'll find out quickly. If someone is shamelessly flirting with you or being out of line regardless if you are together or not he will make his presence known and make sure the person knows you are his.

He'll make sure people know you're in subtle ways. He'll keep his hand on your hip and keep you pressed against him or he'll dance with you all night so no one else can touch you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Paint kink: this just comes with being married to an artist and he's no stranger to trying new things with you. There's just somthing about you being covered in paint while he fucks you. He has covered you both in paint and made love on top of a canvas to make an abstract art piece.“There's my little work of art, all messy and perfect”

Maybe a cum kink would be linked to this. He has a thing about cumming on your breasts too. He'll watche in awe as his cum drips down your chest, marking you as his. He'll look at you with so much satisfaction and desire, like he's painting you with his cum.

Sometimes he'll pull out last minute and cum all over your brests and stomach, just somthing about watching it trickel down your body.

Praise kink: He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He love how he can easily make you blush. “God, your so beautiful”

He loves praising you with his actions, he truly believes that actions speak louder than words. He'll always puts your pleasure and well-being above his own. “You feel so good, my love, so perfect”

Light bondage: he loves tying you up, but always light and gentl. He always makes it to where you can escape if it becomes too much. If he's tying you up he prefers to use the silk belts from your dresses or his cravats. He's either just trying your writs infront of you or the bedpost.

He's not aposed to being tied up himself, in fact he'll encourage it. Especially if he's trying to break you out of your shell, he wants to see you take charge for once and see you tie him up with your stockings or hair ribbons.

Being tied up as you ride him will have him in pure ecstasy and he'll be a moaning mess for you. His praise won't end, he'll be encouraging you and telling you how good you are at taking control “You're doing so fucking well, Darling. Fucking me so well”

Sir kink: he's never been one for dominant names in the bedroom, but something about the way you say 'sir' gets him hard and thinking nasty thoughts. This all started when you were still all young and innocent, when you were well mannered and expected to call any male in your presence sir or lord. “damn, I love the way you call me that”

Exhibitionist kink: this side of him mostly comes out when he's jealous. If he sees someone getting a little too close he loves to slip his hand under your dress and fuck you with his fingers. He's subtle about and makes sure no one sees where his hands wandered off too, but he loves to watch you try to conceal your reactions both faceal and vocal

Something about seeing you struggle to cum quietly gets him going and he won't shy away from licking his fingers clean after he had his fun.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place is definitely his art studio. He'll have you bent over his sketching table or have you pinned to a large canvas covered in paint as he fucks you. It's the one place other than the bedroom you both are free to experiment and most importantly be as loud as you want.

Bedroom, this is a given. He can guarantee your comfort and it's just convenient for both parties. Most importantly he can tie your wrists to the bed post.

Your first time with him was in a gazebo in the back yard and it's become a regular place to sneak away to if you need to let off some steam together.

The library is definitely one of his favorites. Fucking you against one of the shelves as the books fall to the ground masking the noises you both make.

Fun fact: you both have broken a desk in the library and a couch in the living room. Both you had to replace before Violet noticed.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, what turns you on)

Eye contact really turns him on, the way your pupils dilate when you look up at him or when your body brushes up against his when your dancing together really has him aroused. Sometimes when you're dancing he has to press himself against you so no one sees the bulge in his pants

He loves a woman who knows what she wants. He has a thing when you voice your desires, if you just walk up behind him while he's painting and whisper all the dirty things you want him to do to you will instantly turn him on and he'll drop everything for you immediately. The more details you are, the more turned on he gets. He loves it when you get all confident and tell him what you want with no shame.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

You both are no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom, if you both agree and you trust him you'll try it. If there's a possibility in you getting hurt there's no way in hell he'll agree. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

I also think once he's with you, he'll only think about you and want to touch your body only. 3 ways won't apeal to him anymore and especially doesn't want anyone touching you or any other woman touching him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He always puts your pleasure above his, so he always makes sure you come first. When you're on the brink of cumming, he'll increase the pressure and speed of his tongue, alternating between gentle laps and firmer strokes. He loves it when your hips buck against his face in a desperate bid for release “That's it, Darling, let go”

Benedict will grip your hips while he uses his tongue to bring you closer to the edge of pleasure. When he knows you're getting closer, he'll double down with his efforts, letting his tongue do the work while his hands girp your thighs or hips.

He is so vocal when he's getting head, he'll let out deep groans and moans when you deep throat him.

He'll groan as you suck him harder, his hips moving erratically as he gets close to cumming hard down your throat. He'll hold your head in place, thrusting deep into your throat as he shoots a load down your throat.

He'll make sure you swallow every last drop. “Shit, I'm gonna cum... swallow every drop...”

He loves how good you are at making him feel. He loves being at your mercury as he thrusts down your throat. “Darling, you're going to make me cum so hard. You're incredible”

P = Pace(Are they fast and rough or they slow and sensual?)

If it's your first time, it's all about you. All he's paying attention to is your body language and your voice. He'll take it slow and make sure you're enjoying it. He'll be so soft, his love for you shining through his eyes. “Shh,” He'll soothe you, his touch gentle as he supports your body against his. “We'll take it slow, breathe with me, sweetheart”

But when you're comfortable with each other and you learn what you love and don't love, the pace just depends on the mood. Sometimes he just needs a rough fuck after a rough day and sometimes he just wants to hold you and take things slow.

Most of the time he just wants to be gentle and take it slow, hold you and kiss you. Make you feel loved in a softer way. “just let me take care of you Darling”

But if you want to be fucked hard he'll deliver. “You want it harder, Love?” He'll comply with your request, thrusting deeper and faster, causing the bed to shake with your movements. He let out a low groan as he felt your nails dig into his back.

Q = Quickie (Their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

It's neither one of your favorites, but sometimes it's what you need and have time for. Sometimes if the desire becomes too much he'll wisk you away to the library and have you cumming in minutes. Sometimes he'll be very quick and make you cum on his fingers while you're riding in the carriage to a ball.

But in the end he thinks believes you deserve more than just a quick fuck during free time, but he'll never not deprive you of pleasure.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

You both take risks all the time, mostly with the location you choose to fuck. It drives Anthony crazy that neither one of you are careful because he's walk in on the two of you multiple times.

He'll never risk harming your body, he's very rational and even though both love to explore new things, he genuinely thinks things through before doing it. If he feels you'll get hurt he won't do it.

S = Sex position (Pretty self explanatory)

Missionary

Ridding

Doggy style

T = Top or bottom ( do they prefer top or bottom)

Both honesty. He loves taking control over you by being on top and he loves seeing you on top, controlling him.

He loved it when you asked him to teach you how to ride him. Even though he had to focus on making sure you didn't hurt yourself he was in pure ecstasy the whole time.

He just has this thing about laying back and just watching you ride him, he loves the feeling of your thighs and ass in his hands as you bounce up and down on his dick as you chace your high.

But most of the time he needs to be on top. He loves grabbing you by the hips, literally squeezing his fingertips against your soft skin, holding you in the place or using them to help guide the pace.

he loves seeing you spread out and ready for him. He'll hover over you and stroke his cock as he watches your body trembling with pleasure and anticipation. “Damn, you look so beautiful like that. So wet and ready for me.”

U = Ummm

You all know by now I fucking hate this letter.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He wants to see if he can make you scream louder than he did the last time. He loves the noises you make. He makes you a moaning mess so easily. Crying out his name as he pounds into you. “Benedict! Benny, d-dont stop... P-please!”

He can't explain why he loves it so much, but the way you cry out 'Benny' in the bedroom makes him so much hard and loved at the same time.

He's very vocal, especially when he's getting head. He'll thrusted his hands into your hair as he fucks your mouth with an urgency. “Darling, you're doing so good”

He is so vocal, he'll let out deep groans and moans as he feels your tight pussy wrap around his cock when you ride him. “Oh fuck, love. Your doing so fucking good”

If he's not moaning or groaning, he's praising the hell out of you. “No need to be shy, love you're absolutely beautiful”

“Look at you, so pretty and open for me”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He's covered you both in paint and you made love on a canvas. The abstract art now hangs in his art studio.

When he brought up the idea there was this sparkle in his eyes as he explains how he wants to cover your nude bodies in paint and roll around making an abstract design. You were so comfortable with him and the appeal was so great to deny him.

Now it's become a reoccurring thing. If he's now painting your body with the colors in his studio, he's painting your body with his cum.

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

I'm a ferm believer that size doesn't matter. knows how to please you and he can definitely fuck your brains out. But if you want to get technical he's not so big it's nerve-wracking, but there's enough in length and girth to make your eyes roll with pleasure as every inch of him pushes into you.

He makes you feel so full when he’s buried in you, never failing to make you scream his name and dig your nails into his back at the pleasure.

most of the time his dick is hard, red at the tip, leaking just for you.

If it's your first time taking him he'll talk you through the whole thing, propping himself up on his elbows so you can take comfort in being close. He'll keep his eyes locked to yours, his expression gentle. “There might be a little discomfort at first,” He whispered softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But I promise, I'll go slow”

His thighs are muscular and thick, easy to hold on to if you're ridding him or if you're giving him head.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

As soon as you're married you're barely leaving the bed during your honeymoon and then on. He can't get enough of you. Your smell, the noises you make, the way your skin feels against his, everything.

He was suprised, but far from dispointed when you became a sex crazy for him. After you had your first time with him it was like a switch and you were craving his touch everyday. And he'd definitely could have sex with you everyday if you could. Neither one of you can go a few days without sex.

Your relationship is strong, so sex never gets boring and he always wants you to know how beautiful you are. He'll kiss every scar, curve, stretch mark, he loves your body.

He does not have a problem with having sex when you're on your period, he read it helps with cramps and all he wants is to take your pain away. During those times it's about you not him.

Sex definitely won't stop when you're pregnant. There's nothing more sexy and beautiful than you round and pregnant with his child. He has no problem having sex until the day you give birth. Then after you give birth he'll wait the right amount of months and then sum until he can fuck you again.

In conclusion you both are the horny couple of the family.

Z = ZZZ (…how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he can't sleep without making sure you are sound asleep first. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and asleep before he can sleep himself.

He'll clean you up and kiss you all over, making sure you're okay and praising. “you did so well for me, darling... I love you so much”

You'll probably get teased the next morning beacuse Eloise or Colin heard you.

[just-some-random-blogger]

as they left, you couldn’t help but let your eyes hang on benedict, not bothering to hide your feelings. daphne smiled, “y/n, i do hope my brother marries you, you’d be my sister.” you blushed, laughing off her comment as eloise raised her eyebrows.

😋 same daphne

“no!” you heard some shouting, a rancorous laughter followed and you paused by the wall of the last room. it was the three brothers, indulging in conversation. “i would never marry y/n. she’s-“ you heart dropped just as the voice paused, “there’s nothing there. no.” he, benedict, how could you not recognize that voice, had unknowingly shattered your heart with muffled conversation.

🧍‍♀️ nvm Daphne ur brothers a jerk and does not deserve me 🤮🤮🤮🤮

you didn’t move, “benedict,” you spoke informally and sighed, “i will be someone’s wife before the month ends, and i just want to know.” he blinked, “why do you not want me to be yours?” you exhaled, feeling a relief off your chest.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔YOU DID THIS LOOK AT HER. THE DESOLATION OF IT ALL.

You best believe you'll be making up for it the rest of your life 🔪😌🩷

🐈‍⬛ hiii! what do you think of benedict bridgerton x reader, where reader is daphne’s long time friend who’s always been close with the family and has always had a crush on benedict, she doesn’t make it obvious but even he knows and before her big debut she overhears him talking with his brothers about her and how he’d never marry her because he’d never have feelings for you even though you have feelings for him, reader quickly moves on because why would she care about what a man thinks right? so obviously she has to go to the balls looking real good and dance with lots of guys making him jealous (perk but not the goal) and he eventually realizes his feelings and makes it all up to her after finding out she heard what he said

like someone in love

benedict bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you’ve come to terms with the fact that he would never see you romantically, and so you have to find a way to move on

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you audibly gasped, hand clutching at your corset, that your lady’s maid was strapping to your body. she looked over your shoulder and you shook your head, “i am fine, tighter!” you shrieked shrilly, feeling the air constrict in your lungs.

you heard the quick ties of the ribbon and inhaled slowly, “i have to look perfect for tea with daphne.” you admired yourself in the mirror, “if i happen to run into mr. bridgerton, i want to look perfect.” you held your head high, watching your hair fall back loosely, “use the blue ribbon, will you?”

“of course, my lady.” anne, your lady’s maid, always had a small smile on her face whenever she helped you with your visits to the bridgerton household; ever since you became taken with the middle brother, benedict.

you tried to be modest with your attraction, especially since he was daphne’s older brother, and she was your dearest friend. but sometimes, you felt as if the entire ton could see right through you.

“this is the last he’ll see of me before i’m game to the rest of london.” you rolled your eyes, “with whatever my mother has planned- i can only expect a surprise.” your mother, constance, had wonderful success in marrying off your three older sisters, to members of high european society.

“i don’t want her to choose my husband, i know who he is,” you inhaled again, “he just has to choose me.” you smoothed down your skirt, and walked over to your vanity, anne following quickly behind.

“oh, y/n!” daphne still felt like a girl whenever you appeared in her doorway. the drawing room had been empty except for her, looking beautiful as ever.

you looked around before greeting her back, smiling brightly as you sat across from her, “where is everyone?” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that benedict wasn’t sketching away by the window.

daphne exhaled, “mama took everyone out for promenade. i’m rather nervous about tomorrow, and well,” she shrugged, smiling.

you nodded, “i most definitely am nervous. a pit in my stomach.” you admitted, “i understand, daph. that is why when i received your invite for tea, i knew i had to come.”

daphne’s attention shifted to the bustling bodies that were shoving each other through the drawing room doorway. it was all her brothers, with eloise.

eloise smiled at you, and moved over to the seat beside her sister. benedict, colin and anthony all greeted you politely, indulging in small conversation with daphne before excusing themselves to the study.

as they left, you couldn’t help but let your eyes hang on benedict, not bothering to hide your feelings. daphne smiled, “y/n, i do hope my brother marries you, you’d be my sister.” you blushed, laughing off her comment as eloise raised her eyebrows.

your tea with daphne had turned into a private dinner, and it had gotten late. “this was lovely, daph.” you had stopped on your walk by the study with daphne, “i’ll see you tomorrow, be perfect.” you wished her luck, and waved her off as she dashed back up the stairs.

the bridgerton house grew quiet as you took your time exiting. you had hoped you’d accidentally bump into benedict on your way out, but as you passed the last room, you lost hope.

“no!” you heard some shouting, a rancorous laughter followed and you paused by the wall of the last room. it was the three brothers, indulging in conversation. “i would never marry y/n. she’s-“ you heart dropped just as the voice paused, “there’s nothing there. no.” he, benedict, how could you not recognize that voice, had unknowingly shattered your heart with muffled conversation.

you inhaled sharply, and dashed out of the home, walking fast to your carriage as your tears threatened to fall.

your father had been a great man. your mother loved him passionately that even she cried when he died. you cried, but you were a child who knew her father fleetingly. your mother made you promise on his grave that no man would ever make you hurt like this again.

benedict breaking your heart was no different, and you knew you couldn’t dwell. your mother would not let you, you would not let yourself cry for him anymore.

the debut had been the easy part, the hard part was standing out. your first ball and already you couldn’t qualm your nerves. you knew that daphne and her entire family would be attending, you would have to see benedict, have to see him knowing what he said.

your mother had revealed to you that there was a duke and a prince in the waters, and you had to reach for the highest of stars.

your dance card had been filled to the brim, not even an hour had passed before there was a line of eligible suitors waiting for a dance. you were speechless, never did you think you’d get a reaction like that. not when there was daphne in the same pool of ladies.

everyone but the man you wanted had lined up for a dance, even his brother colin, but it was friendly more than anything.

benedict watched you carefully, smiling politely as you and colin danced. you indulged his ramblings about his wishes to travel, your father had been quite the explorer before settling down, so you were as worldly as he had been.

benedict tugged at his collar. seeing his brother with you had left him feeling odd, upset.

“ben, are you okay?” anthony had surprised his brother, and benedict nodded, “ye-yes. i just need a breath.” he spotted the nearest double doors, leading off to a balcony of some sort, he rushed away, his hand clutching into a fist nervously.

his skin felt hot, and he exhaled a breath. you had an affect on him that he had tried to ignore for months now.

when he was confronted about it by his brothers, he denied it fiercely, you were young, beautiful and wildly too good for him. not with your sisters’ husbands being who they were, benedict knew your mother wouldn’t even consider him as a thought.

but he couldn’t ignore the rage he felt at colin, watching his hands on your body, guiding you as you danced.

he knew you had an affection for him, he could see it in your eyes, but you didn’t know him, you couldn’t see why he was the wrong man for you. anthony had claimed that look in your eyes was of someone in love. he encouraged his brother, but benedict grew more reserved about his decision.

you wanted him to see. five balls of trying to capture a glance from benedict bridgerton, and five balls of failure. you had danced with nearly all of the eligible men, many handsome and as rich as you could imagine, but none left you with desire.

benedict was slowly becoming nothing but a dream, an unfulfilled desire that only kept you up at night.

on the night of the last ball of the season, you knew you had to get benedict alone. you had grown restless through the season, upset and frustrated. this was your last chance, because your mother refused to have her daughter end her first season unmarried.

you would be someone’s wife soon, and you had to be his.

benedict needed this. the drag of the smuggled cigarette in his lungs, the exhaling into the pitch black sky. knowing you were inside, dancing your way into someone else’s arms.

he refused to watch it happen, and he refused to admit how much he hated all of the men of the ton. he loathed every single one for having danced with you.

“mr. bridgerton.” he had only heard you address him a few times. not in a long while, and he had made sure of that.

he turned, shocked to see you standing behind him. you were wearing a baby blue dress, cheeks flushed. “miss heathfield.” he seemed breathless, and he dropped the cigarette that had been between his fingers, brushing his hand on his coat, holding it behind his back.

“it is chilly out here, perhaps you would be more comfortable inside?” no one else was outside, and it was inappropriate for you to be out here with him, alone.

you didn’t move, “benedict,” you spoke informally and sighed, “i will be someone’s wife before the month ends, and i just want to know.” he blinked, “why do you not want me to be yours?” you exhaled, feeling a relief off your chest.

benedict watched as you walked closer to him, “i have wished for that since the beginning of the season, y/n.” he looked at you, “you are beautiful, talented, wondrous and intriguing woman, and i absolutely do not deserve you.” his lips went tight, “i’ve seen your sisters’ husbands. they’re dukes and earls, i’m not even the viscount.” he whispered, “you deserve to be loved like a queen, a princess, anything but a mrs.”

you grew emotional, tears brimmed in your eyes and you stomped, “stop it this instance, benedict bridgerton!” you were now face to face with him, you could smell the cigarette smoke more clearly now, “i can see you feel strongly about me, and i want nothing more in this moment than for you to kiss me.”

benedict looked at you, glancing at the parted doorway, light and laughter floated down to his ears before he rushed in to kiss you.

your knees went weak at the kiss, and he gripped you, holding you against him. he pulled away, panting, “i-“ he was utterly speechless.

“i know.” you whispered, knowing the look in his eyes all too well.

[natti-ice]

being completely obsessed with him stretching you out

18+ mdni

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

he’s always been very well endowed, when you first started hooking up you realized he’s much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before- at first it was intimidating, until you found out how much you love being filled up by him. He gently runs his tip up and down your slit, making you whimper as it gently grazes your clit, he lets out a pleased hum as he watches your reaction. “Easy baby, I’ll be gentle I promise- stay still for me” you try so hard to ground yourself, gripping onto the bed sheets as you anticipate his entry, you could feel your arousal dripping down to your ass. He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly slips the tip in, immediately his girth starts to stretch you, you always gasp softly no matter how many times you’ve done this it still feels like the first.

A deep groan rumbles through his chest “shit, you’re so fucking wet for me sweetheart.” your eyes shut as the pleasure washes over you, he slowly pumps into you adding a little bit more of his length with each stroke until he’s all the way in. You can feel every detail of his cock against your walls, you’ve never known such bliss before- you didn’t even want to cum, you wanted to stay in this moment forever.

[imgondeletedis]

~𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆.~ || 𝚊 𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒-𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. || 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚝. 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton X fem!reader

a/n: that's a snack before the meal hehehe, this prologue is from the reader's pov,, the next chapters will all be from third person's pov haha,, also pleaseeeee benophie fans don't hate me, I'm not gonna hurt ur girl sophie dww hehehe. this is obviously inspired by the first verse of the song. I hope this mini-series lives up to y'all's expectations ahaha

Word count: 358 (it is js the beginning trust me)

Warnings: umm I don't really think there's anything to warn the reader is slightly insane (ig?) that's all but like aren't we all lmfaoa

The mini-series' masterlist

next chapter

𝟎𝟎-𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:

“ 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞.”

asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum asylum.

That's probably where I should be right now. Instead I am here, in the Canary Islands, in Spain.

so far away from London, from home, from him. The gossip flowing around is true. He's the torment, bless, curse, and love of my life. He's none other than the artistic

Benedict Bridgerton.

It's the year 1819.

Benedict Bridgerton got married 2 years ago. From what I've heard, he married that beautiful woman called Sophie, 2 years ago, he had a son last year, another this year, Which is funny.

Benedict and I always used to talk about how we'd both love and would be great parents to a girl. Together.

Now he's all married off, to another woman, and has 2 boys, funny isn't it?

Life may lack a lot of things, one thing it surely can and would never lack is the element of surprise, the dynamatic plot-twists,and turns.

4 years ago , I would've sworn to you that he was the one for me, honestly I still do think so, no matter how insane that sounds, I mean I know I can't say the same thing about me to him, because apparently he's content with his current life, but I am not with mine.

I can't exactly say I am happy for him but I do hope he's okay. Even if he's the literal reason for why I turned out in such a way.

You see you can't live without having a story to tell, an explanation to explain, so let me tell you ours, mine. And you be the judge of that…

taglist🏷️💓🫶:

@skyrigel @avngrssckr @preetrambles @ephemeral-oasis @basekpagalsiladki @ihateitheretaylor @littlebitb

another a/n hehehe: did you notice that i made her residing in the canary islands which was THE FLORIDA of their time??? (according to my research ofc) this is just a reminder that NOTHING IS A COINCIDENCE WITH ME. and ive learnt it from the best (catlady taytay)🤭🤭

[imgondeletedis]

it's impossible to do anything for my man that man can't get any hotter.

im truly interested to see how they're going to give benedict a glow up because how could luke thompson possibly be any hotter than he already is lol

[fayes-fics]

Mirror, Mirror

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: When Benedict's wife tries on his clothes, things happen...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, cross-dressing, clothing kink, light biting, breast play, a smidge of intercrural sex, very mild exhibitionism, mirror sex, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Request fill for @d-caryophyllus (HERE) about Benedict being aroused by his wife dressing up in his clothing. I hope this fits what you were hoping for, my dear. Thanks as ever to @colettebronte for the beta read. Yes, the title is a nod to Season 3, lol. Err, enjoy! <3

It’s early in the morning on a mundane Thursday when a somewhat daring idea forms in your mind. 

Fresh out of your morning bath, you dismiss your maid quietly when usually she would assist you with dressing for the day. As the double doors click closed discreetly behind her, you glance through the open archway into your bedroom; heavy curtains still drawn there, obscuring the sunlight. In the darkness, you can just decipher the outline of your husband sleeping soundly after a late night of carousing with his brothers.

With a little secret smile, you decide that, yes, now is the perfect time. He is asleep, and you have a few hours to spare until your first social engagement - a ladies' luncheon - so why not use the time to satisfy your curiosity?

You stride to your husband's side of the dressing room, opening his wardrobe doors and running your fingers over the items within—a symphony of wools, silks and cotton, all luxurious to the touch. While he is arguably one of the more flamboyantly dressed men of the Ton, with eye-catching jewel-toned waistcoats and colourful cravats, the basics of his outfit are mostly the same every time: dark trousers and a white shirt. A large part of you is envious of that easier choice. Sometimes, it feels like a veritable minefield being a woman during the social season, the looming threat of an unintended fashion faux pas simply by wearing the wrong colour to the wrong event.

Upon a chair, you spy the outfit he discarded when he came home in the early hours, not yet tidied away by your staff. You decide this shall be your choice, a frisson that they are already worn.

Dropping your bathrobe from your shoulders, you grab the pair of his trousers and pull them on. The finely woven wool feels plush on your skin, and there is an undeniable novelty in having fabric between your thighs. They are, however, almost comically long for you, and you have to bend to roll them up a few times around your ankles. Bemused, you briefly catch sight of your reflection in the full-length dressing room mirror, topless in oversized trousers. 

You snatch his white shirt and pull it on, pausing to tug the ruffled lapels up to your face and inhale deeply, enjoying the flood of scent there. His woodsy citrus cologne, yes, but also that undercurrent that is all him. That tang you cannot help but bury your face into, be it upon his pillow when he is away or his body while you cling to him, moving together in ecstasy. 

You fasten a few buttons, then tuck the shirt into the trousers and loop the braces hanging loose around your hips up onto your shoulders, once again inspecting your reflection in the mirror with a wry smile, twisting this way and that, admiring how different you look dressed in his clothing.

“Wife, what are you doing?” 

You almost jump out of your skin as that velvet tone, slightly roughened by sleep, calls out from across the room. You twist to see Benedict leaning casually upon the archway into the dressing room, shooting you a look that is pure menacing intrigue while looking like sin himself—all riotous bedhead, and, as your eyes slip further down, gloriously naked. It makes you swallow hard.

“I… I was trying on your clothes,” you stumble sheepishly, a blush creeping over your cheeks being caught doing something perhaps rather bizarre. 

“Any reason?” he queries, bemused, that crooked smile claiming his features.

“They just seem so much more practical and comfortable—especially trousers. I would like to wear such things…” you confess, turning back to the mirror to appraise your appearance again, watching him prowl towards you in the reflection. “Are… are you vexed with me, husband? For taking such liberties?” Your words petering out, mildly abashed.

A large, warm hand wraps around your shoulder, yanking you back almost roughly, making you gasp as your shoulder blades collide with his chest.

“The precise opposite,” he rumbles, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, a sudden burning intensity that makes your lungs feel tight. 

Long fingers spider down his brocade brace, draped down your chest, lingering where the strap rests over your nipple, swiping his thumb in a deliberate tease, his face triumphant as you swoon back into him from just this simple touch. 

“My clothes look much better upon you than me,” he opines duskily, his lips tracing your temple as his fingertips push the brace aside to capture your nipple through the thin cotton shirt, making you inhale sharply. “Perhaps we should attend a party with you dressed like this?”

“That would be a scandal!” 

There is a vault in your stomach at the idea of attending a social event dressed in his clothes, even as you melt under his questing touch.

“Not in the more… bohemian… circles that I know of…” he contends; his breath is a warm gust in your ear as his other hand does the same, fondling both nipples now.

He waits until you meet his gaze in the mirror again, then lowers his lips to your neck and bites gently. His incisors a faint scrape, immediately soothed by a wide, wet lathe of his tongue. A little crest of victory as something sizeable stirs against the cleft of your bottom. 

“If I were dressed as you, then what would you wear, husband?” 

“Whatever you would like, my darling,” he offers between soft, damp kisses, a tingle running up your neck from his lips to the top of your scalp. “I could wear your clothing should you wish it. Or perhaps just your corset and underwear?” He nuzzles into you, taking a deep breath. “Our little secret…”

Something about his tone, the images he concocts, makes your blood run warm, your hand reaching up and diving into his luscious hair, tugging gently upon his roots so again he feels compelled to use his teeth, a groan bubbling up from within as he does. With a flick of his wrists, the braces fall from your shoulders, and he cups your breasts through his thin cotton shirt. It makes you sigh his name, asking for more, arousal coursing thickly through your veins—a yen to be taken right away. 

“The thought arouses you, does it not?” he correctly surmises, trailing his touch down over the shirt, brushing your ribs and belly to the fastening on the trousers, making short work of the buttons.

You nod demurely, biting your lip as you watch his dextrous hands in the mirror, his arms encircling you; it is almost as if he is removing them from himself. The air feels heady as he pushes the loosened fabric from around your frame, and it hits the rug with an audible thump.

Standing before him in just his ruffled white shirt with only a few buttons fastened, you feel his weighted stare in the mirror, lingering on the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs peeking out between the shirt sides.

“I shall prefer you keep this on…” he asserts, popping open a button over your chest so the fabric opens enough for him to slide a hand inside, tweaking your nipple and pulling you back into his frame, rutting his now solid cock against your bottom.

You turn your head to press your lips to his, imploring for more of his touch in a fervent whisper before seeking a kiss. His mouth is hot on yours, rolling his tongue with yours, endless caresses of your breasts as you burn so hot you rub your thighs together in delicious anticipation of more, already more than ready for him, your clit pulsing with each tease of his tongue.

“Here?”

You know what he is asking—if you wish to have sex right where you stand, in front of your dressing mirror, his shirt loose around your body, him naked behind you.

“Yes. Yes please…” you murmur into his mouth, rolling your body against him, telegraphing unmistakable need.

“The window is open,” he points out with a smirk, nodding towards a high window that allows in light to the dressing room but affords you not to be seen; it is open this morning to let in the summer breeze. “What if we are heard?”

“I care not,” you confess, exhaling jaggedly, knowing he likes you in this state, desperate and debauched, uncaring if you may be overheard in your pursuit of pleasure. 

Rubbing yourself upon him akin to a feline in heat, moving so his cock passes teasingly between your thighs now as you writhe. He groans and tells you not to stop, hissing his approval. So you squeeze your legs together tightly, allowing him to rut between them, the pass of his cock glancing maddeningly over your engorged clit.

His touch becomes heavier, hands mapping your body as his hips surge, and you see the red, weeping tip of his cock emerging and disappearing in the mirror, an intoxicating sight. You moan lightly with every pass, a tantalising swipe, not enough to bring you real pleasure, just notching your want higher.

He finally takes pity upon you, angling his hips differently and driving into you; you, moaning at the invasion so deep and encompassing, rocked up onto your tiptoes. Every time he has entered your body, it's always the same: a force that steals your breath and makes your eyes roll. His hands are a firm grip around your waist as he withdraws slowly back, then surges in again, capturing your earlobe in his teeth as he does.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, you idly wonder how many other wives are watching themselves being fucked by a handsome husband like this; a bright weekday morning, birdsong wafting in on the scented breeze, body wrapped only in his shirt. You suspect none are quite so lucky.

You moan his name and arch back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck and watching yourself being taken, relying on him to keep your stance steady as he starts to fuck into you in earnest, large hands sliding up to cup your breasts, engulfing them in his warm palms.

Unable to stop the noises you make, each pass hitting all the spots inside that make your toes curl into the thick pile of the rug beneath your feet, your pussy clenching around his invasion, making him growl and move faster, taking you harsher, an onslaught that is as pleasurable as it is powerful.

His mouth is a breathy litany of praise into your cheekbone, your eyes fluttering closed to focus on the carnal moment - the sweat, the skin, the ragged breaths, the meeting of your bodies so primal and glorious, but he has other ideas.

“Look at yourself,” he purrs dulcetly, your eyes reopening to do as he asks, to watch this unrestrained moment of passion, to see the little marks blooming on your body from where his fingers dig into your flesh as he pounds into you now, a flourish of colour on your neck from his thorough attention.

You plead for more throatily, pushing back as best you can against his thrusts, wanting him to make you scream, uncaring of any audience inside or outside your townhouse, only craving the sweet, blissful release he always provides.

Abruptly, he wrenches open the shirt you wear, one button pinging forward and tinking against the mirror before skittering across the floor, your naked body framed by his crisp white shirt, the ruffled lapels tickling the sides of your breasts, catching sight of his handsome face in the mirror contorted in a passionate tempest.

Then one hand slides down your front, you feeling it rippling in your belly and seeing it in your reflection before you until those fingers slide between your legs and hook over your clit with a force that steals the air from your lungs, a sharp stab of pleasure that makes your knees buckle, him pausing in his motions briefly to brace your weight, keep you upright.

Then it is a blur as he restarts his motion, his fingers dance on your swollen pearl, slipping silkily over his touch as he grunts encouragements. It feels like you are circling for so long, so close to something mind-blowing, but then he flicks harshly with his fingernail and bites your neck, and you are hurtling. Everything is loud and quiet at once, no doubt your voice calling his name as you tumble over the edge, clenching hard around him as your whole body shatters and rebuilds in a blissful puzzle. Dimly, as you float, you feel his entire body tense, and with a roar, he follows you over, a warmth blooming inside you as he reaches completion. 

There are a few moments of panted breaths as you both recover from the intensity before he spins you around and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you back to bed. There, he lays you down gently and proceeds to turn you into a molten, quivering pile, mapping your body with his lips and fingers until you are begging for him again, which he more than obliges. So much so you are almost late for your social engagement.

If there are a few derogatory looks as you swan into the ladies' luncheon with a blissful smile and a burgeoning mark on your neck from your husband's amorous intentions, well, so be it. You wouldn't change it for the world.

And it is also most definitely not the last time you dress up in his clothes…

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