#Bridgerton fandom

[byebyelullabye]

THE LEDGERTONS AND THEIR TWITTER PROFILES

(currently in the middle of putting this on ao3, in the meantime enjoy the twitterscape)

(Made with all images from Pinterest)

LEDGERTON FANS OR LEDGERHEADS ON TWITTER THROUGH THE YEARS:

[redroses07]

should i make a part 2?

[peachpitfics]

Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

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

If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

[ladyolivia689]

Are we not Friends? 👀

[elizabethmerck]

It’s been a while since I posted Bridgerton funny memes. Here’s another product series (medications this time). Hope you have a giggle! 🤭

[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name PART I

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

PART TWO: here

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

————————

Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

���You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

————————

PART TWO: here

[ladywhistlewrites]

Hiiiiiii can I request a wife x Anthony bridgerton story where they are newly married and back from their honeymoon so Anthony works a lot where reader nearly never sees him so when she goes to talk to him he snaps at her and takes his stress out on her and reader gives him the silent treatment until she feels like it’s enough. Pls make him work for her forgiveness 😭😭😭😭😭

hii thanks for sending an ask!!🩷 hope you like it :))

Anthony Bridgerton x wife! reader

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow through the windows of your shared home, a beacon of warmth and new beginnings. You and Anthony have just returned from your honeymoon, the memories and whispered promises still fresh in your minds. Every corner of your home feels infused with the love and joy of your new life together, a life that seems to stretch out before you with infinite possibilities.

The first few days are blissful. You and Anthony spend lazy mornings entwined in each other’s arms, sharing laughter over breakfast, and planning your future with excitement. His touch, his voice, everything about him fills you with an overwhelming sense of contentment. You are his, and he is yours.

But as the days turn into weeks, you notice a change. Anthony, ever the diligent worker, begins to spend more time in his study, pouring over documents and attending meetings. At first, you understand. You admire his dedication and are proud of his accomplishments. Yet, gradually, his presence becomes a rarity. He leaves early and returns late, often slipping into bed after you’ve fallen asleep and rising before you awaken.

One evening, after another long day of waiting for him, you decide to confront him. The house is quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock in the hallway. You find him in his study, hunched over his desk, the dim light casting shadows on his face.

“Anthony,” you call softly, stepping into the room. He doesn’t look up, his attention firmly on the papers before him. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He finally glances up, his expression a mix of exhaustion and impatience. “What is it, my love? I’m very busy.”

The endearment feels hollow, and your heart aches. “I know you’re busy, but I miss you. We barely even spend time together . It feels like you’ve forgotten about me, about us.” you murmur

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m doing this for us, for our future. Can’t you understand that?” he says with venom in his mouth.

“I understand, but what good is the future if we’re not happy now?” The words tumble out, your voice rising with emotion. “You’re consumed by your work, Anthony. You’re neglecting our marriage.”

His eyes flash with irritation, and before you can react, he snaps. “Just mind your own business, will you? I’m doing what needs to be done.” he spats.

You stand there, stunned and hurt, his harsh words cutting deeper than you’d imagined possible. Without another word, you turn and leave, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silent house.

In the days that follow, the pain of his outburst lingers. You decide to give him the silent treatment, unable to bear the thought of speaking to him. You avoid him, your interactions reduced to strained silences and cold civility. He tries to reach out, but you turn away, your hurt and pride keeping you at a distance.

Anthony, realizing his mistake, begins to make amends. Each morning, you find fresh flowers on your bedside table, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dull ache in your heart. He sends you beautiful gowns, their fine fabrics a reminder of his thoughtfulness. Every day, he apologizes, his voice earnest and filled with regret.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says repeatedly. “Please forgive me.”

A week passes, and you find yourself missing him more than you can bear. The sight of the flowers, the sound of his apologies, all begin to chip away at your resolve. One evening, as the sun sets and the house is bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you find him in his study once more.“Anthony,” you say quietly. He looks up, hope flickering in his eyes. “I forgive you. But you must promise me, promise me that you will never speak to me like that again.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he might never let go. “I’ve missed you too, more than you can imagine.”

You stand there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together, bound by love and the promise of a future filled with happiness.

[lqveharrington]

My Wife | A.B.

summary: It was arranged for you and Anthony to marry for convince, but it seems as if the both of you find it much more than just a marriage of convince.

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

includes: use of she/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst

a/n: i’ve been watching too much bridgerton and reading too much books to not write about him

After being wed and having one of the best wedding lunches, the new viscountess and Viscount Bridgerton found themselves with a dilemma. Although the two had known each other for quite some time before having to wed, they had not considered how they truly felt for one another. They merely saw each other as close friends through the years. So when their wedding night came — along with the added nights of their honeymoon — the newly wed couple did not know what was to come of them.

“You mustn’t leave us yet!” Hyacinth wraps her arms around your middle, smiling brightly toward her newest sister-in-law. “I still have so many things I need to ask you and so little time!”

“I’ll be back in a month, Hyacinth.” You press a kiss to her temple and squeeze her in your arms. You tuck one of her curls behind her ear and rub her cheek. “Besides, I’ve seen you grow into an amazing young woman so far, I doubt it’ll change in one month.”

She happily takes the compliment — albeit shyly — and took your hands in her. She swings them by her side and looks at you with all seriousness. “You must promise to be back in a month. No more and no less.”

“I promise.” You give her a soft smile. It wasn’t uncommon for Hyacinth to make you promise such things, she truly loved you even before you were betrothed to her eldest brother. You squeeze her hands gently, giving her a reassuring gaze. “But you must promise me that you’ll tell me all those stories of your adventures when I come back.”

“Of course.” She gives you a bright grin.

You give her an equally bright smile as she wraps her arms around you one last time before letting go, off to bother Gregory. The young Bridgerton boy gave you a hug, murmuring softly about how much he’d miss you before following his younger sister to stand by the front gates. They both were truly lights in the Bridgerton family, and you were happy that they both officially became a siblings to you. Even after practically raising them along side Anthony and Violet.

You move to walk over to the carriage when Eloise rushes over to you, eyes glazed and puffy.

“Eloise?” You stand in front of the young woman, catching her wipe her tears and sniffle. “Are you alright?” You bring a hand up to wipe her tears, giving her a look of remorse.

“I’m not bloody fine.” She sadly chuckled before pulling you into a tight hug. Eloise buried her head into your shoulder, sniffling loudly. “I can’t believe you married my prick brother.”

You quickly embraced the brunette, holding her close as her tears were soaked up by your white dress. You rubbed her back softly, murmuring a quiet response. “I can’t believe you’re crying for me and not Anthony.”

“Like I said, he’s a prick.” Eloise wiped her face with her bare hand, no decorum whatsoever. You handed her a handkerchief, nodding when she thanked you. She glanced back at the carriage awaiting you and Anthony before meeting your eyes again. “When I was younger, I thought that the easiest way for you to become my sister was to marry into the family.”

You listened intently, rubbing her shoulder.

“I didn’t think that you needed to marry after you helped raise us. You were practically family. I guess I never saw Anthony nor Benedict enough to marry such an amazing woman.” She fiddled with the bow at the front of her dress as she explained her thoughts for you. “When you came over one day and told us you were getting married to dear old Anthony… I think I was elated that you would really be our sister.” She looked up at you again. “I was happy that you and him came to your senses and that you would become the new Viscountess.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You forgot that no one else other than Anthony and your father knew that marriage was for convience. That the marriage was for the Bridgerton heir. Quickly, you mask your face. “I’ll let your mama handle being Viscountess for as long as she wants. I still have much to learn about that role.”

“Nonsense, you learned so much about it when you came over to help with Gregory and Hyacinth.” She nudged your side before pulling you into one last hug. “I won’t keep you long because Anthony keeps glaring over, but I truly believe you would be the best Viscountess the ton will ever see.” She pauses and looks over at her mother. “Well, besides mama.”

You shake your head with a playful grin, “I’ll see you in a month, El.”

She smiles softly as you step away to your carriage. You soften your gaze as you look back at her and the rest of the Bridgerton family. They were practically your second family and now they truly were family. You gave them a short curtesy for being a home to you when an arm wrapped around your waist. Without even looking, you knew who was next to you.

“Are you all done with your goodbyes?” Anthony teases, recounting how each of his siblings had a personal farewell from you. “I want my wife back.”

You scrunch your nose at his teasing words as he lays his hand out to help you into the carriage. “Jealous, Viscount Bridgerton?” You steady yourself as you enter the carriage, hand delicately placed in his. You adjust yourself in the carriage, pushing strands of hair off your face.

He squeezes your hand as he takes a seat next to you. He gave you a gentle look, eyes roaming around your face. “I would never be jealous of my siblings. Besides you’re stuck with me, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You send him a soft smile at his words before waving toward the Bridgerton family once more as the carriage pulled away. You lean your head on Anthony’s shoulder like you usually did when you were younger, keeping your hand in his.

“You know, you don’t need to bow down to them.” Anthony gave a short peck to your head, rubbing his thumb on your hand.

You hum before speaking, “Your family has earned my respect over many years. I owe them at least one bow before I’m officially the Viscountess.”

He continues to rub your hand as he processes your words.

As the trek to Aubrey Hall began, you kept your hands intertwined with Anthony’s the entire time, occasionally one of you squeezing the other’s hand. You spoke mindlessly about the recent books you’ve read or how the visits to the modiste went with his sisters. You honestly did everything to keep your mind off from the impending wedding night that was to fall on the both of you.

And as if he read your mind, Anthony did the same. While he listened intently to your words, he added comments where he deemed it necessary and rubbed soft circles into your hand when he asked for more information. He would also tell his own tales, although they ranged from being drunk with his brothers to filing papers.

The tension between the both of you became apparent as you started to feel warmth lingering on your skin from his touch. It became even more ignited when you saw how he looked at you. He gave you such an amorous gaze, like you hung the stars up just for him.

You arrived at Aubrey Hall during nightfall, the lights outside just being lit by the staff already waiting for the both of you. No matter how many times you saw the place, you marveled at how beautiful it was.

Anthony stepped out of the carriage and dusted himself off before extending his hand for you to take. He led you through the house where the both of you would be staying, your things arriving well before your carriage came.

You let go of Anthony’s hand as you sat in front of the vanity, gently taking your earrings out and your jewelry when you saw him staring at you intensely. You raised a brow and opened your mouth to comment on it when he spoke.

The both of you quietly laughed at the unexpected mixing of your voices. You finished pulling all your jewelry off and stood to face him properly. He nodded for you to go first, taking your hand in his again.

“Anthony…” You say softly and thumb his pulse. “Can I ask you something?”

He hummed and met your eyes, creasing his brows when he saw the hesitation in them. “What is it?”

“I… You…” You pause, looking away and spinning your wedding ring anxiously. You rubbed your face before continuing, slowly meeting his eyes. “Did you truly only agree to marry me for convenience? For an heir to the Bridgerton name?”

Anthony let go of your hand and rubbed his jaw, sighing. “Yes… And no.”

You looked at him in confusion before he spoke again.

“I knew I had to marry someday. I thought it would merely be for an heir, but mother wanted it to be of love since Daphne found her true match.” Anthony chuckled softly at the fond memory of his sister in a now very happy marriage. “I wasn’t too sure how love with someone other than family was supposed to feel like. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was supposed to find someone to marry for love.”

The idea plagued your mind. You never knew what love from a significant other was supposed to feel like either. You knew love from your family and what the Bridgertons’ had shown you.

“I saw how mother was with father when he was still… I never really felt it.” Anthony gazed into your eyes with something you couldn’t place. “Not until recently. You,” He sucked in a small breath before continuing. “You lit up a room whenever you came by and my siblings adored you, I adored you.” He cupped your cheek softly. “There were countless nights where I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were available for any other man of the ton and you only saw me as a friend. A friend from childhood.”

You parted your mouth slightly at the confession, feeling the heat from his hands.

“When your father came up to me and proposed the marriage with you, I thought it couldn’t be bad. I would marry the woman who stuck with me my entire life. I accepted for the convenience of it all, but I truly felt more even before this arrangement was brought up.” Anthony brought his other hand up to your face and stared intently, rubbing the apples of your cheeks.

“What are you…” You trail off as he gives you a look to listen.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N. With all my heart and soul. You showed me what love was and how it was supposed to feel.” Anthony says before pulling your face to his and capturing your lips.

You let out a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, letting your arms wrap behind his neck. He trailed a hand down to your hip and pulled you closer to him as you smiled into the kiss.

Panting, you part from the mind searing kiss and rest your forehead on his, eyes shut. “Anthony?”

Anthony slowly nodded, “Yes?”

“I love you too.” You kiss him again.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[girlkisser13]

colin bridgerton being obsessed with eating you out

pairings: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), oral sex (r receiving), pussy drunk colin, pussy eating, dirty talk

divider by @plutism

colin won't take your virtue before you're married, but he will eat you out.

he'll spend the long hours of the night and the short hours of the morning with his tongue lapping between your folds and his lips sealed around your clit. he'll drag his mouth over your sopping slit and dig his fingers into your soft thighs to keep you spread open for him.

a slow and gentle exploration, a treat for doing this properly, for making a proper woman of you like you deserve. it's for him more than it's for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wiggle his tongue against your clit or push his thick finger into your tight hole, easing you to the edge of orgasm just so he can slurp at the mess you make.

he's obsessed. the noises you make, the short breaths and soft whining moans, it drives him crazy. he finds his trousers soiled with come one too many times after he's worked you through orgasm after orgasm.

your legs shake under his tight grip as he refuses to leave your pretty pussy until it's puffy and aching from all his attention. you writhe and wriggle, but he keeps holding you where he wants you. he drags his broad tongue over your slit as he spells his name on your clit.

"are you oversensitive my love? you can take it darling. let me have this. let me enjoy you. just one more for me gorgeous."

it was never just one more.

[skyrigel]

I’m so glad you take requests for Anthony bridgerton. I’ve been in the mood to read angst with happy endings for so looong😫 so could I request Anthony bridgerton x wife angst where they have an argument/fight because he is stressed so he takes his anger out on her so she ends up giving him the silent treatment while he basically begs for her forgiveness

Say nothing then || A.B

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Warning: hurt/angst, superstitious thoughts, Anthony doesn't think he could outlive his father. ( Happy ending and little comfort, i promise.)

Rigel's note 🪩 : Thankyou so much for requesting, absolutely heart breaking to write this one, I took inspo from book, Anthony denying love because he saw his mother going in depression when his father died and taylor swift's lyric I said, "I love you" (I said, "I love you") You say nothin' back . I hope i did justice with this one sweetheart <3

That's the way you loved Anthony, truly and completely and sometimes it was so hard to keep it in, it slipped through your lips everytime you kissed him. Pressing down in his skin and tickling his heart that was yours.

It gazed at him, dusk or dawn, ever so lovely, it scribbled down in your ink, leaving your love trailing down behind him.

When Anthony told you he would give you anything, you believed him, when he said he just wouldn't love you, you didn't.

That's not how it goes, perhaps you were naive and blinded but that, it was love that glinted in his eyes everytime he looked at you. When he would smile and reveal the book you yearned to read, hidden behind his back. When he danced more than any husband did with his wife so you didn't believe when Anthony said he wouldn't love you, that was only a matter of time.

However, there's difference between wouldn't and couldn't, Anthony was scared to love, for he knew it's a force and he would be damned if you were to be left heartbroken just like his mother, he would curse himself if he didn't wake when you would call out for him when he was dea Because Anthony was sure, he bloody knew he wouldn't be able to live past his father and in no universe he would want to see you begging, crying and slowly drifting away. Lost and sad, no.

So he wouldn't love you and he would save you from the greater grief, of getting left behind while the other is gone.

But love became too much sometimes, held too much of your heart and body and soul that it demanded to fly and then one such night, all the chains tattered and it was bleeding raw and fresh—

" I love you." You said, like you did every passing moment but oops you had said it now, in words and sound as Anthony kissed the back of your ear, it was the first time the words ever experienced by the nature, no doubt you had said it with every kiss, every touch, every gesture but this was new.

Anthony freezed above you, hands dropping whatever mischief they had in tow.

He pulled away from you in a blink of your eye and it took you a moment to realise what went wrong.

" Anthony ? Are you..you are okay honey ? " You whsipered, he didn't look at you, staring at his hands as he could see a story you couldn't.

" I.. Anthony ? " You said again because it scared you, Anthony wasn't the one to look away, all the things that scared you was nothing against the terror, the sinking gut wrenching feeling you felt when Anthony fliched at your touch and you shivered in ache. No, don't leave me. Please, please.

It was another pain to see Anthony like a stranger, like he didn't know you. He would, he promised he would know you anywhere but this, it was threatening.

" What did you say ? " You almost thought it was the voices in your head, the agony that coated the words could never be from him.

Never to you, he was drifting away with each heavy moment and the person who was at the edge of your bed, in your shared chamber, smelling like you, wasn't the person you knew.

" Anthony—" you tried, you couldn't help the choking of your throat as those eyes were fuming in rage, maybe there was love, hiding somewhere but you couldn't find it and it broke your heart. Anthony couldn't be right.

" You don't mean that ! " He was screaming, his whole body shaking as his fist slammed the mattress in fit of rage.

A strangled hiccup escaped your throat when Anthony gripped your shoulder, hard but not bruising, like he wanted to shake you out of this feeling. He couldn't.

" You don't understand, love, love, love—" he almost cried, his nose reddening, his whole face was burning.

" —its stupid ! Means nothing, does nothing, it takes away everything..." His voice tore down deep inside you, like breaking membranes and dropping vases, it could never be the same.

" You don't understand... don't say it ! You stupid woman ! " He bellowed when you worked your jaw to say something, Don't say it, I love you—

I love you, please, please, let me love you—

But just as he said it, it wasn't Anthony, it was like your mama reminding you how stupid you were, stupid, stupid girl, she would say.

Stupid woman, he had said and everything else was slowly fading, it was starting to slow down, like watching it from away, in different bodies, like you were the doorknob or the painting on the wall because you were crumbling under his touch.

Anthony mere few inches away and you wondered what he would do if you kissed him just then, would he stop this torment?

Would he pull away, back then he didn't when they were your silent ' I love you's ' instead he drank them in, tasted your love raw and wild and now refused them in sound and wave.

" What should I say Anthony ? " You were sure they never made it out, lost somewhere in void, perhaps still coiling around your cartilage but the shocked silence that echoed between the little space between you reminded you how words crawled out after all. Even those meant to be quiet. I love you.

" Say nothing then." His voice is so small that barely register and before you could, he's inhaling large gulps of air, drifting back and back and his eyes not quite meeting yours until he turned his back to you.

He was gone for the night.

Say nothing then.

He wasn't there for the breakfast.

Say nothing then.

He wasn't there the next day.

Say nothing then.

And the day next, and one that followed—

Until you reasiled you haven't said anything in days, it wasn't so bad afterall, it was, very, very bad and lonely but it was okay, as long as Anthony would come back, it should be.

It was very quiet when Anthony stumbled back, his steps shaking and vision dizzy.

He was terribly pissed. You turned the page you only half read and focused hard on the words, Anthony stripped his clothes as he climbed the bed next to you, in an attempt to kiss your forehead like he did every night.

He wasn't there to do it for days and you didn't sleep, it could surely go on, you pulled away.

Something hurt flashed through his eyes and he looked down at the sheets, chest heaving with untaken breaths.

" Good night Viscountess." He whsipered softly and You said nothing back.

Say nothing then.

You weren't sure how you did it but you managed to untangle yourself from Anthony by dawn, you slept for the first time in days and it was over with a series of dreams, each ended with you saying I love you and Anthony saying nothing back.

Silence was louder than words, it was also harsher than words.

Watching Anthony sleep was like playing we're good with him , you weren't sure if you could cry anymore than you had already.

It felt like nothing happened and it could go back to be like before, you could press your love to his skin and it wouldn't burn and leave scars.

But you didn't want that, that was something it had became unbearable, when love bled through you, it was unstoppable and you realised how you will love him enough to make it up for both of you but he wouldn't let you. He wouldn't love you either.

The hurt was visible when his hand trembled, he tried hard to catch your eye, you focused at the honey, so sweet. Anthony didn't know but it hurt you all the same. How much burden you felt in your bones when you couldn't tell him all the things you woke up with, to tell him about your dreams — nightmares now, to tell him that you hate him so much, to kiss him until he couldn't breathe and tear everything wrenched out of him, but you couldn't.

All the more heartache when Anthony brought out the third part of your beloved novel and when the smile never came on your lips, only tears that blurred your gaze so much that you turned away from him, Anthony was shattered.

It was the second day, you hadn't said anything at all, inside screaming didn't count as one. You watched ahead as the far, far away trace of green rolling grass from your balcony. It occurred to you how horizon was made, where earth met the sky and here you were, with souls of something same, whatever they were made of, and yet you and Anthony couldn't mingle.

" Isn't it beautiful ? " He looked at you like you would answer him, he hoped too much.

Say nothing then—

" Huh.." he tried to smile, it was so small.

You stared ahead because looking at Anthony only added salt to your wound, it was aggravating.

It was after some slipped moments when he spoke in a strained small voice, hurt and broken and it shivered you.

" I was so scared...still am," he said and his voice broke, a muffled cry escaped him and you looked at him, really. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and shush away every cry, every pain, every sadness.

Say nothing—

" I thought...I thought i could just keep it away, keep you safe..from me, from love—" and he was crying, not sobbing, not whimpering but crying as big warm tears steamed down his face and he dropped to his knees in front of you, hands reaching for you like moth reaching flame and you took him, held him.

Say—

" I..I..I thought.. could—" he sniffed," couldn't, i can't pretend anymore, I don't want to leave you in pain... don't want to leave you in hurt... can't can't can't keep it in." He cried more and more and more matter how much you wiped his tears, but more fell and it was then you realised, they were yours. You were crying too.

" I am sorry, I am so, so sorry for ever hurting your my sweet love—" he swallowed hard.

" Anthony.. it's okay.. it's alright." You assured him, maybe you and him could go with your love only pressed between silence and gestures and eyes and it would be enough.

But you couldn't watch him break, wouldn't and couldn't.

" I love you." He said, voice not shaking, eyes sincere behind the gleaming tears, " I love you, always had, always would." He brought your knuckles to kiss, love pressing down in your skin. It was golden in the last rays of sun.

" Anthony you don't have to say it." You understood, atleast you did. He shaked his head and smiled through his wet face.

" No, no...let me, " he exclaimed, " I love you my baby, my lady." He smiled and it reached his eyes, you giggled softly when he pressed open mouthed kisses on your hands.

" I love you, I love you and I love you." He said, " I am a fool for ever denying it, I am a fool for you my Viscountess." He inhaled, breathing after a very long time.

" I am sorry, I love you so much baby." His lip trembled and you wanted to steady them so bad.

" I love you too Anthony, truly and completely." You kissed his forehead and he melted in your touch, and you didn't know how much time ticked away with loud and whispered and blessed I love you's and that's the way he loved you, truly and completely.

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

Rigel's note 🪩 ( again) : I hope this was good, I am such a angst sucker myself<3 request through my ask box :) and can you reblog ? Please, please.

[frost-queen]

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton (Reader x Benedict Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis

Swallowing nervously, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold this position. Having sit down for over an hour now. Feeling the sun bath on your face through the window. You needed to move, your body needed to change before you would actually turn into a statue. Taking a deep breath, you went for it. Turning your head towards the sun like a flower would do. Eyes closed to take in the sunlight for you could use all the sun’s blissful energy right now. – “Uh-uhm!” – you heard loud, making you turn your head. Benedict looking past his easel. Gesturing at you to take on your previous position. It made you sigh annoyingly loud to him.

“Are you nearly done?” – you asked with some irritation. Feeling your nose itch, you were even afraid to scratch it. To not ruin his sketch. Benedict came looking past his easel once more, holding his pencil between his fingers. – “You can’t hurry perfection. It takes a lot more time with you. I have to adjust so much to even make this sketch worthy of appeal.” – he replied with a teasing smile. – “Har har.” – you laughed out dryly. If you didn’t know him this well, you would’ve been insulted. Yet it was just his way of teasing. Throwing in sarcastic and laughing comments to make everything lightful.

Benedict focused back his sketch as you sighed again. – “I heard that.” – he spoke from behind his easel, not even bothered to look around. It made you cross your arms annoyed. Thinking half a second about it before setting back in to your position. Benedict appeared once more from the easel, making you throw him a sarcastic smile back. He smiled sarcastically back at you before gesturing at you to turn your head back right. So you did, watching him disappear behind paper once more.

Your gaze looked around the room to occupy yourself. Needing anything to fight this boredom. Gaze gliding to the side seeing one of his paintbrushes on a low cabinet. Pressing your lips together, you had an interesting idea. Remaining still as Benedict’s head popped up once more. Waiting for him to hide behind his paper once more to snatch the paintbrush. You held it underneath your nose, lips puckered up to keep it there. Now you only had to wait for him to look once more.

Benedict looked past his paper to you. Needing to do a double-check, eyelashes blinking rapidly with surprise. You could barely contain your laughter. Catching the paintbrush in your hands once you laughed loud. – “Was I supposed to find that amusing?” – he said making you roll your eyes at him. Having enough of modelling for him, you jumped off the stool. – “I…I wasn’t done yet.” – Benedict called out. You puffed his comment away, coming to take a look at his progress. Your eyes widening. Cheeks bloating up with anger. – “Benedict!” – you shouted loud slapping him hard against his arm.

“Au.” – he chuckled out. You snatched the paper from the easel to show it up more closely to his face.-  “You have been sketching the fruit bowl beside me this entire time while I sat there still!” – you tried really hard not to freak out, wanting to scold him for making you sit so boringly long with not even a single line of you drawn out. Benedict started to laugh as it angered you even more. Slapping your hand against his shoulder numerous times to punish him. Benedict unable to stop laughing.

“Y/n be gentle with him.” – Anthony said, speaking from the door opening. Having heard some commotion whilst passing, unable to resist looking. Looking upon the scenery of you beating his brother up. – “He!” – you called out pointing firm at Benedict to make your statement. Cheeks bloated from frustration. Sucking in the rest of your words for even though you knew Anthony for a long time now, you would not argue with him. You let go of Benedict so he could straighten his jacket. When Anthony walked out, you threw him an irritated glare. He could only smile annoyingly charming back at you. Having his head tilted, you so wanted to punch him again.

You helped Benedict clean up his sketching material. Collecting paintbrushes from all around. Benedict stood with his back to you, humming whilst putting his pencils back into the long wooden box. Biting your lip you weren’t sure how to say this. Express what you had decided a few days ago and had been wanting to tell him ever since. – “I’m going to do something different this season.” – you said out loud.

“Like what change your hair?” – he added a snort to mock you just that little extra. – “No.” – you replied firm, hands resting on your hips. Taking a deep breath, you let your hands fall to your side. – “I’m going to find myself a husband this season.” – you let out without warning. – “What?” – Benedict responded loud, nearly startling with how loud his voice was. – “It is my third season, Ben.” – you explained leaning back against his desk, looking painfully away.

“It’s my third season too.” – he answered with a shrug. – “But you’re a boy!” – you let out, gesturing at him. – “Man.” – he corrected you with a smug smile. – “Boy.” – you corrected, corrected him with a sarcastic smile. – “Clearly nothing is working for me as I don’t have any men falling over me.” – you told him. – “Would hurt their knees.” – he answered by bringing his knee up with a pained expression. Sighing loud, you sometimes found it irritating that when you tried to be serious, he was trying to make everything funny.

Feeling already too irritated that he wouldn’t listen properly to you, you had enough. Waving your hand to dismiss the conversation. Benedict removed himself from against his table, rushing over to you. Grabbing you by the wrist to stop you from charging out. – “Alright, alright I’m listening.” – he said tugging at you to stay put. You gave him a glare to not make fun anymore. He responded by throwing his hands up in defence. You exhaled deep making him look with actual concern at you. Throwing you those sweetfull eyes with slight furrowed brows. Trying to get a grip of your internal emotions.

“I am just hopeless.” – you let out, catching your face with your hands. – “Nah.” – he responded loud making you look between the gaps of your fingers. Hand slowly lowering at his dazzling smile. He came sliding his arm over you. – “You just need someone to teach you to flirt. To woo men.” – he responded giving your cheek a good poke. – “I don’t need to learn flirting!” – you exclaimed, feeling a bit offended. Benedict clicked his tongue. – “Your flirting is as stiff as a broomstick.” – he answered with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes at him, arms crossing. Hating to admit that he was spot on. Your flirting was bad. If it was any good, you would’ve found a match a few seasons ago. – “But do not worry my dear Y/n.” – he began pressing a hand on his chest. – “I will take the hard task on me to do so.” – smiling nobly back at you. You elbowed him back for that slight mockery that he always slipped in. He doubled over, rubbing his chest watching you take your leave.

The weather had settled with a soft warmness. Birds chirping happily up in the air. Waiting at the side of the gravely path. Waiting for perhaps the worst day of your life. – “Good day Y/n.” – Colin greeted you with a nod. You curtsied back at him, getting pulled back up by your arm by his brother Benedict. – “Alright, alright.” – he waved his brother away. Colin blinked confused, turning on his heel to keep up with his other siblings. You looked surprised down feeling him slap a fan against your chest to accept.

“What… what is this for?” – you asked confused examining the fan. – “To begin your first lesson.” – he replied with a teasing smile. Taking you by the arm to lead you in the opposite direction of his siblings. – “What… what do I have to do.” – you asked tapping the fan against your palm. – “You’re a girl. Flutter your eyelashes and wave your fan. Men are simple creatures. They would fall over a pleasing smile easily.” – he told you. – “Alright I’ll show you.” – you paused turning more towards him.

“No, you will show them.” – Benedict pointed at a few men standing underneath a tree. Chattering. – “Absolutely not.”- you let out already turning around to run away. Benedict knew what you were up to. Grabbing you by the shoulders. – “Come on.” – he forced out, pushing you forwards while you kept protesting. Leaning back against his hands so he couldn’t shove you so easily over to them. – “No, Ben please…” – you begged regretting ever asking. – “Don’t be a baby, you are the one that wanted a man.” – he breathed out, pushing you forwards to the men. You stumbled forwards as the men turned their heads curious at you.

“Gentlemen, I believe you are familiar with miss Y/l/n.” – he addressed. The men tipped their hats at you. You only gawked at them, feeling too shy to do anything. It took an elbow nudge from Benedict to get you started. – “What… what splendid weather… is it not.” – you uttered out, flashing your eyelashes perhaps a bit too much and fanning hard. – “Are… are you quite alright miss Y/l/n?” – one of the men asked. You nodded with a hard swallow. Benedict snatched the fan from you, having enough of your tornado wind coming at you. 

Smiling sheepishly and awkwardly back at them. He grabbed you by the shoulder, leading you away from them. – “Sorry.” – you told him, feeling ashamed. Benedict pinched his nose bridge. – “No, no it’s alright.” – he sighed out. – “We’ll just go again.” – he added. – “What?!” – you called out in a panic. Panic that he would endure this agony on you more. – “Just…” – he started snatching the fan out of your hands. – “no more of this.” – you gasped loud when he threw the fan behind him into the lake. Watching it settle on the surface for a moment before the weight of the water drowned it.

He forced you towards two other gentlemen. Introducing you and encouraging you to flirt with them. – “I… I truly like… your… hat.” – you nearly shouted out the word ‘hat’ for you had no other clue than what to compliment him on. Benedict shook his head, rubbing his fingers over his forehead in disappointment. With another embarrassment, he led you away. Forcing you towards new gentlemen for a third time. This time you could barely utter a word. Feeling extremely shy with five men staring back at you. 

Not able to contain the attention. Stuttering and stumbling over your words like a blathering buffoon. You were relieved that Benedict didn’t drag you for a fourth time to any gentlemen. The first day of lessons was already humiliating enough. So humiliating you immediately left for home. Not even taking the time to greet the other Bridgertons. Needing to get out of here as quickly as possible. To lay down on your bed and wallow in self-pity for how terribly right Benedict was. You were awful at flirting.

Loud muttering deafened out as your hearing couldn’t settle on one voice. Blinking almost tiredly as you stood by the buffet. A presence sliding next to you. – “Lesson number two.” – Benedict said, holding two fingers up. Sighing softly, you turned more to him, listening to what he had to say. – “You my terrible flirter.” – he booped your nose with a teasing smile. – “must talk to five men tonight.” – he finished. – “Five?” – you whined out at how difficult he was making it for you. – “Would you like to have seven then?” – he answered with a cheeky smile.

As a response you gave him a shove. – “Oh and I’ll be watching you Y/n.” – he called out as you had already turned half away. – “Like you have anything else to do.” – you muttered under your breath. Leaving to find five hopeless men to chat with. Feeling Benedict’s presence not far away as you ventured from room to room. Stalking you like a hawk. You found your first victim by the drinks. Approaching him fast.

“Good evening my lord.” – you called out, startling the poor man. Making him choke on his drink as the content splashed up in his face. Staring in shock back at him. He wiped his nose dry, coughing loud. – “I’m so sorry my lord.” – you apologized. Feeling too embarrassed to even continue the conversation. You turned on your heel, meeting briefly with Benedict’s confused gaze. Taking a run for it to venture into another room.

Hoping to get rid of the embarrassment you couldn’t seem to shake. You found another seemingly victim, approaching him with more ease. Laid-back to not give him the fright of his life. – “Good evening my lord.” – you started with a curtsy. The man bowed back at you. – “Lord Morrison, I’ve heard you like dogs is that true?” – you asked to stir up a conversation. The man’s expression turned blank. – “My dog recently died.” – he let you know. Lip quivering as he dropped into loud sobs. – “That… that is unfortunate…” – you answered with awkwardness as you had not expected such a reaction from him.

Foolishly you backed away. – “What happened, what did you say to make the poor man cry.” – Benedict spoke, falling in line with you. – “Apparently his dog died.” – you answered. Seeing how Benedict had to press his lips together to not laugh at that. To not laugh at how much of a fool you had made of yourself. – “Must I really continue this?” – you sighed out, not in the mood for it anymore. – “Yes, you must.” – he answered giving you a little shove to get you back on your path.

So you did trying to complete your task before the end of the night. Filling your evening with walking and mustering up the courage to speak to men. Speak with little effects as seemingly all that you said was not pleasing enough for men to make them fall over you. Utterly exhausted you let yourself drop in a chair. Having lost sight of Benedict. Feet hurting from wandering around for hours. If you could, you would flop your shoes off and rub your pained feet for all to see.

“You must be demanding.” – a man’s voice spoke, catching your sudden attention. Turning to look at the voice, you met up with a gentleman standing beside you. – “I beg your pardon?” – you blurted out, caught off guard. He chuckled deeply, hands shyly folded before him. – “I said you must be demanding.” – he repeated himself. Yet it only raised more questions with you to what he was referring to. He noticed the confusion on your face, gesturing at your feet.

“Your feet are in discomfort. It must be from dancing all night.” – he made himself clear. – “That is where you are wrong my lord.” – you replied with a smile. – “Is that so?” – he answered intrigued. You hummed loud, showing him your dance card. Dangling emptily from your wrist with a cord. – “Good gracious!” – he blurted out. – “These men must truly be blind then.” – he added. You fluttered confused with your eyelashes when he took your dance card in his hand. – “To not ask a fine lady as yourself for a dance.” – you watched as he wrote his name down.

You retrieved your hand, admiring the name on your dance card. The first ever name written down. – “If your feet allow you, I would very much like that dance.” – he spoke. You jumped up out of excitement. – “They allow it.” – answering with euphoria. The man laughed at your silliness. Taking your hand to lead you up to the dance floor. Coming to stand before you.

You greeted him before the music started. Violins and cello’s filling the room with their notes. Both of you stepped forwards, meeting there to step back. Stepping forwards once more to change positions, crossing with your backs at each other. Facing each other once more. Meeting again to come nearer with your side at his and back. He took your arms, letting you turn underneath them. When you weren’t facing him, you pressed your lips together to supress a wide smile. Filled with joy that a gentleman was dancing with you.

Benedict had been searching for you. For one moment, he had his attention drawn away. Only to find you nowhere near when he turned back. Now he roamed the halls wonderingly in search of you. Following the strokes of violins and cello’s. Entering one of the big halls. Finding his brother at the side-line. Gently pushing a man out of the way by his shoulder, he made his way over.

“Colin have you seen Y/n?” – he panted out. Colin pointed forwards, making his brother turn his head to look. Eyes widening on spotting you on the dance floor. With another man. Watching you waltz with someone. Turn and press your back against his chest. Compelled to stand at the side-line and watch. Watch one of his closest friends share a dance, with a smile on her face.

“Aren’t you happy.” – Colin said nudging his brother in the side. Benedict smiled forced back at him. Unsure what to feel, but happiness was not the feeling he would describe. Staring unsettling back. Overwhelmed by something he could not name. The only thing that seemed clear was that it disgusted him. That he felt the urge to pull you away. To yell at you to stop for whatever possessed you. Tensing his jaw ever so lightly he wasn’t sure he could supress his expressions. Having a sense of passing out, he took a stumbling step backwards.

“Are you quite alright brother?” – Colin questioned. Benedict swiped his hand across his forehead, feeling that it was sweaty. Not wanting to explain himself to his brother, he took his leave. Disappearing into the crowd in the hopes to drown out the events from just now. Finding his way to the outdoors, the wind gave him a cold shock. Bringing him back to reality. He grabbed on tight to the railing of the balcony. Laughing loud. Laughing at how silly he was being. Silly for actually feeling bothered by it.

Was it not his intention to help you. Was it not why he chose to do so. Laughing even more at himself for being so ridiculous. You were only Y/n. Just Y/n that he had known almost his entire life. So why did it bother him then? After the dance, you searched for Benedict to let him know the great news. To show him your dance card with the man’s name on it. To show him you weren’t a complete failure this season. Yet no matter how thoroughly you searched, you did not find him. You guessed that was the end of his lesson. Returning to your parents afterwards to leave for home.

You stretched yourself out, coming to lay down on the blanket. Staring up at the clear blue skies with a satisfying exhale. – “Lord Kingsley came to my house this morning. He brought flowers for my mama.” – you spoke turning your head to the side. Looking upon Benedict’s face as he laid beside you. He sighed deep, still looking up to the heavens. – “That is what a true gentleman does. Oh and he likes chocolate too, admires poets just like you.” – you nudged Benedict in the side with your elbow.

He barely moved, staring bothered in front of him. He sighed soft, turning his head to you. – “You have been annoyingly charmed by him.” – he let out with a sarcastic smile. It made you click your tongue. Benedict moved his finger up, pressing it against your cheek. Pushing against it, forcing you to tilt your face away from him. He was too bothered to even look upon you. Sighing loud, you were looking back at the clear skies. Curling up a smile. – “Stop it.” – Benedict spoke. – “With what?” – you answered. – “You are thinking of him, stop it.” – he made himself clearer.

You exhaled deep, coming to sit up straight. – “You are no fun.” – you told him. Benedict came up as well, mimicking your words with childish mockery. Leading to you to give him another shove and get up. Taking your leave from him as you didn’t need his mockery today. Benedict sighed disappointed with himself that he had chased you away. That was not his intention. He just couldn’t stop himself from vexing over Lord Kingsley whenever you spoke of him.

Benedict clasped his hands together to rub any dirt off. A shadow falling over him. Blocking out the sun on his back. With furrowed brows, he turned around to look. Only to find lord Kingsley to his annoyance. Benedict got up, collecting the blanket from the ground. – “What do you want?” – he called out bitsy. The lord cleared his throat nervously. – “You are friends with miss Y/n are you not.” – he asked. – “Yes.” – Benedict replied harsh. Ready to take his leave as he could not stand to be in this man’s presence any longer. Yet Lord Kingsley moved to block out his path.

“I… I was wondering if you could assist me in a matter.” – Lord Kingsley asked fumbling with his hands. – “What matter?” – Benedict let out, carrying the blanket under his armpit. – “I…I heard you are exceptionally good with words… I was wondering if you would perhaps guide me into writing a poem for miss Y/n.” – He offered. Practically begged for him to help. Benedict could only stare blankly at him. Needing to process his request till he fully understood it. An immediate response coming out.

“No!” – loud and clear. – “I…I beg your pardon?” – the lord stuttered out, caught back by his harsh response. – “No!”- Benedict repeated, bumping hard against his shoulder. Storming off before he would wrestle the man. His patience had taken a peak as he couldn’t take it anymore. He had one conclusion. He couldn’t stand Lord Kingsley and he couldn’t stand that he was with you. Dropping the blanket with his mother and siblings, he went to search for you. Search for you, for he wanted you to know the truth. Know the truth about Lord Kingsley.

He found you near the woods. Staring mindlessly at the ducks in the lake further away. – “Benedict?” – you called out when he grabbed you roughly by your arm. Pushing you, dragging you away from any meaningless eyes. Forcing you underneath a willow tree away from society’s prying eyes. – “What is going on with you!” – you shouted, forcing your arm free. Benedict was panting. Unable to keep his eyes away from you. – “That man is a fraud!” – he let out, pointing somewhere beside him. – “Wh… who is?” – unsure to who he was referring too.

“Lord Kingsley.” – he spitted out his name with disgust. His reaction made you scoff loud, turning away in utter disbelieve that he would react this childish. – “You simply cannot comprehend that I for once am wanted.” – you told him. Benedict grabbed you firmly by the arm, forcing you to look at him. – “Comprehend? Comprehend? He speaks of poetry yet cannot even fantom himself to utter a single word. To lay down his feelings with compelling words that flutter your heart.” – he exclaimed, eyes scanning yours desperately for understanding.

“Like you?” – you answered a bit rude. Benedict gave your arm another tug, not wanting you to look away. Forcing you to keep your gaze locked. Captured as there was no escape. His eyes staring longingly back at you. – “What is it truly to admire a woman!” – he called out. His words catching you by the throat, making you nearly jump out of your skin. – “To look at her and feel inspiration?” – he added in a more settling tone.

“To delight in her beauty… so much so… that all your defences crumble…” – his eyes venturing down at your lips. Settling there for a moment before he flashed them back up. – “that you would willingly take on any pain… any burden for you.” – he spoke taking a step closer to you. Touching your arm with his hand. – “To honour your being.” – he breathed out. – “With my deeds and words.” -  raising his hand to let his knuckles brush against your cheek. A heavy breath released from your lips, feeling a tug in your chest. Having the need to swallow to dampen the thoughts flashing your mind.

“For that is what a true poet would say.” – he spoke letting his hand rest there. His gaze flashing down to your lips once more. – “For that is what I say to you.” – he corrected himself. Your gaze lowered on his lips as well. Feeling your heart beat loudly in your chest. Relieved that it could not fall out of your chest. – “Ben…” – you whispered out leaning unconsciously closer to him.

Yearning for his lips on yours. Nearly feeling his breath on yours. Benedict allowed his other hand to hold your cheek. Cherishing your face in his palms. – “For you are all my inspiration Y/n.” – he whispered out before closing his eyes. Decreasing the distance between you. Letting his lips find yours. Pressing them gently on yours. Allowing them to settle there for a moment. Retrieving them with a shuddering breath.

Then his lips crashed down on yours once more. Craving more of you than he could ever imagine. Lips kissing you deeper, more rougher as you followed his pace. Grabbing for his back to let your fingers draw deep over his back. Needing him close, closer than he already was. Senses taking over as you became fully blinded by your surroundings. Hand moving to his neck as he deepened the kiss. Panting loud between short releases.

Out of breath, you parted ways. Yet not too far as he allowed his forehead to rest against yours. Panting out a laugh. You smiled back at him, flushed to the bone. He touched your chin with a wide smile before giving you another short kiss. – “I want us to have forever.” – he said. – “Starting from right now.” – you nodded as he took a step back. Taking your hand to lead you out from under the willow tree. For you needn’t be concerned about the season now. For you had romanced yourself a Mr. Bridgerton.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[d-targaryenshoe]

Blissful Banter- Luke Thompson

Word count: 1432

Summary: Yet a lie detector brings fun to one's connection even the truth likes to be discovered.

Luke glanced at the lie detector machine with skepticism and amusement.

You sat across from him with a playful smile on your face.

You had been together for a little over a year, and despite your age gap—Luke being thirty-six and you twenty-five, you had developed a deep and affectionate relationship.

However, you both had a teasing nature, often poking fun at each other in a way that only made your bond stronger.

Today, you decided to put your playful banter to the test, literally, by trying out a lie detector test.

"Are you sure about this?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the technician prepare the equipment.

"Absolutely," you replied, your voice light with excitement. "I’ve always wanted to see if you could lie to me with a straight face."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t lie, love. I’m an open book."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure, and I’m the Queen of England."

The technician, a stern-looking man in his fifties, adjusted the sensors on Luke’s wrist.

"Remember, the machine will measure changes in your physiological responses," he explained in a monotone. "So try to relax."

"Easy for you to say," Luke muttered under his breath. He caught your amused gaze and winked. "Bring it on."

With the machine ready, the technician nodded at you to start.

"Okay, let’s start with something simple," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair. "Who’s your favorite character in Bridgerton?"

Luke smirked. "Benedict, of course. How can I not."

The lie detector remained steady, confirming his truthfulness.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your own character."

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Anthony’s too uptight. And Colin is the opposite of Ben, cool, confident, and irresistible."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Confident. Let’s see if you’re as honest about other things."

You leaned forward, your tone turning teasingly. "Do you like my cooking?"

Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second, a split-second that didn’t escape your notice.

"Of course I do," he replied, his voice a tad too enthusiastic.

The machine beeped softly, indicating a small spike.

You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. "You liar! I knew you didn’t like my quinoa salad!"

Luke chuckled, shrugging. "It’s not that I don’t like it, I just... prefer your lasagna."

"Mm-hmm," you said, squinting at him playfully. "I’ll remember that next time you ask for seconds."

The atmosphere between you was light and full of affection, with the lie detector test turning into a fun game rather than a serious interrogation.

You both knew that these little white lies—like Luke’s opinion on quinoa—were part of what made your relationship so enjoyable.

"Alright, my turn," Luke said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Do you secretly think I’m too old for you?"

Your expression softened as you considered your answer. "Truthfully? No, I don’t think you’re too old for me. I love that you’re a bit older. It makes me feel like I have someone who’s mature and knows what he wants."

The machine stayed silent, confirming your truthfulness.

Luke’s heart warmed at your words, and he smiled, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I’m glad to hear that."

You squeezed his hand in return, then leaned back with a mischievous grin. "But just to keep things interesting… Do you ever get jealous when I talk about how attractive Simone Ashley is?"

Luke’s grin turned into a mock scowl. "Jealous? Me? Never." But the lie detector’s soft beep betrayed him.

You burst out laughing. "I knew it! You’re jealous."

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But can you blame me? She's an absolute gem."

"True," you agreed, still giggling. "But don’t worry, you’re the only one for me."

You shared a tender moment, the banter giving way to genuine affection.

Luke realized that despite the light-hearted nature of the test, it was reaffirming what you both knew deep down—that you were crazy about each other, quirks and all.

"Okay, back to business," Luke said, clearing his throat. "How much did you actually know about Bridgerton before we started dating?"

You blushed slightly, biting your lip. "Honestly? Not much. I might have watched a couple of episodes before, but I wasn’t really into it until I met you."

The machine remained silent, and Luke smiled. "So, you started watching it just because of me?"

"Maybe," you admitted, your cheeks still pink. "I mean, it was worth it to understand your character."

Luke laughed, feeling touched. "That’s sweet. I’ll give you that one."

"Your turn," you said, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you really think I was into you on our first date, or did you think I was just being polite?"

Luke chuckled, remembering your first date. "I was pretty sure you were into me. I mean, who wouldn’t be?"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the lie detector’s verdict.

The machine, however, remained steady, backing up Luke’s confidence.

"Wow, someone’s cocky," you teased, though you were impressed.

"What can I say?" Luke replied, grinning. "I’ve got a sixth sense for these things."

You shook your head, as though you were smiling. "Alright, Mr. Sixth Sense. Here’s a tough one—have you ever lied to me about something important?"

Luke’s smile faltered slightly as he thought about the question.

He wanted to answer quickly and truthfully, but the seriousness of the question caught him off guard.

"No," he said finally, his tone sincere. "I haven’t lied to you about anything important."

The lie detector agreed with him, showing no signs of deception.

You smiled softly, your eyes filled with warmth. "Good. I believe you."

Luke exhaled, realizing just how much your trust meant to him. "I’d never lie to you about something that mattered. You’re too important to me."

For a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted to something deeper, a reminder of the solid foundation you had built together despite your age difference and different life experiences.

"Okay," you said, clearing your throat and lightening the mood again.

"Let’s end on a fun one. Have you ever pretended to be interested in one of my hobbies just because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?"

Luke laughed, knowing exactly what you were referring to. "You mean like when I pretended to enjoy that pottery class?"

You gasped, your eyes wide with faux outrage. "You didn’t enjoy it?"

"The clay was all over the place, and I made a bowl that looked more like a pancake," Luke admitted, grinning. "But I did it because I wanted to spend time with you."

The lie detector stayed silent, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Okay, I’ll give you that. But I actually thought your pancake bowl was pretty cute."

"Thanks," Luke said, smiling. "But let’s stick to your cooking from now on."

You laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep watching Bridgerton with me, even when there’s no more Simon Basset."

Luke leaned across the table, capturing your lips in a quick, affectionate kiss. "Deal."

As you wrapped up the lie detector session, Luke realized that the test, while initially just a bit of fun, had brought you closer.

The playful teasing, the honest confessions, and the laughter reminded you both of why you worked so well together.

Despite the differences in your ages, your relationship was built on trust, understanding, and a shared sense of humor.

"Well, that was fun," you said as you stood up, stretching after being seated for so long. "We should do this again sometime."

"Only if you’re ready to admit that I’m your favorite Bridgerton," Luke replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, as though you were smiling. "We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll start lying just to keep you on your toes."

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked out of the room. "As long as you keep laughing with me, I think we’ll be just fine."

As you left the building, the sun setting in the distance, you both knew that the little adventure with the lie detector had only strengthened your bond.

After all, love wasn’t just about being truthful, it was about finding joy in each other’s quirks, teasing, and growing together—even when a lie detector was involved.

With that thought in mind, Luke and you walked hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges—and jokes—your relationship might bring next.

[redroses07]

tagging everyone who wanted part 2: @aiolos-7 @peachplumeachone @darlinglittlemeg @thebuni @copiouscouples

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

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[thecrayonindisguise]

Bonds and Barriers masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Rating: Teen and up

Status: ONGOING

Ao3 story link

Summary:

When the Medici family, Duchess Marie and her twin daughters, Caterina and Teresa, leave their serene Italian estate for the glittering chaos of London, they are thrust into the heart of British high society.

Named the Diamonds of the Season by the Queen at their very first ball, the sisters are immediately thrust into the whirlwind of high society’s glittering world. But beneath the surface of this dazzling debut lies Caterina’s true intent: she's searching for a wealthy suitor, not romance. Her heart bears the weight of past heartbreak and scandal. Haunted by the memories, she struggles with guilt and distrust in matters of the heart.

Enter Benedict Bridgerton, a man who defies Caterina’s expectations. Charming and passionate, Benedict finds himself irresistibly drawn to Caterina. Their first encounter is a serendipitous clash of worlds, setting the stage for a connection neither anticipated. But as their lives entwine, their shared passion becomes both a bridge and a barrier.

Amidst the glittering balls and whispered gossip of the ton, can Caterina and Benedict overcome their personal barriers and embrace the bonds they’ve forged? Or will their pasts keep them apart?

CHAPTERS

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter 3: Shared Passions

Chapter 4: Unspoken Bonds

Chapter 5: Breaking the Boundaries

Chapter 6: Tangled in Desire

Chapter 7: A Heart’s Retreat

Chapter 8: The Ball and the Burden

Chapter 9: Breaking the bonds that bind

Chapter 10: Rebinding of Hearts

Chapter 11:

[elizabethmerck]

Can’t…stop…watching.