#benidict bridgerton x reader

[hauntedfictionland]

BRIDGERTON | Looks from season 3 trailer

“Even a wallflower can bloom.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

expecting

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow across the grand bedchamber. Y/N stirred beneath the covers, her mind slowly rousing from the depths of sleep. She stretched her hand to the other side of the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of her husband, but instead, her fingers brushed against cold, empty sheets. Benedict had already risen, most likely absorbed in his work within the confines of his study.

She lingered in bed, her thoughts muddled by the lingering remnants of slumber, until a sharp pang of anxiety tightened in her chest. For several days now, a persistent worry had taken root within her, growing with each passing hour. She hesitated before throwing back the covers, her heart heavy with apprehension. Y/N’s gaze fell upon the bed linens, scrutinizing them with bated breath.

The sheets were immaculate, untouched by the crimson hue she had half-expected, half-dreaded to see. Her heart sank, frustration welling within her as she realized the implications. Another morning, another check, and still no sign of her monthly course. The absence of blood was both a blessing and a curse, for she knew what it likely meant.

They were still newlyweds, just months into their marriage, and while they had spoken of starting a family, Y/N had envisioned more time to enjoy their youthful union before the responsibilities of parenthood descended upon them. The thought of carrying Benedict’s child filled her with equal parts joy and trepidation. Was it too soon? Would he be ready for such a change, for the duties and demands that would come with fatherhood?

She rose from the bed, her movements languid as she wrapped her robe around herself. The silk fabric felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth she yearned to feel. Y/N padded down the long hallway, her feet silent on the plush carpet as she made her way to Benedict’s study. She could hear the familiar sound of his pencil scratching against parchment, the melody of his creative process.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her husband. Benedict was bent over his work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched, utterly absorbed in his task. Despite the seriousness of his expression, there was an undeniable gentleness about him that made her heart swell with love.

For a moment, Y/N considered turning away, letting him remain in his world of art and imagination, but she knew she couldn’t delay the conversation any longer. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she needed to confide in him, to share her fears and hopes.

“Benedict,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up immediately, his features softening the moment his eyes met hers. A warm smile spread across his face, and he set his pencil aside, rising from his chair to greet her.

“Good morrow, my love,” he said, his voice filled with affection as he crossed the room to her. “I did not intend to wake you so early.”

“You did not wake me,” Y/N replied, attempting a smile as she stepped closer to him. “I simply found myself alone in our bed and wondered where you might be.”

Benedict wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. “My mind was alight with ideas,” he explained, his tone light and teasing. “I had to capture them before they faded away like the morning mist.”

Y/N rested her head against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart. The steady rhythm soothed her, but the anxiety in her own chest remained. She knew she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. “Benedict, I must speak with you about something of great importance.”

He pulled back slightly, concern flickering in his blue eyes. “What is it, dearest? You seem troubled.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands gripping the lapels of his dressing gown as she gathered the courage to speak. “I have missed my monthly course,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “It has been late for several days now, and I believe I may be with child.”

The words hung in the air, a delicate truth that had the power to alter their lives forever. Y/N braced herself for Benedict’s reaction, her heart pounding in her chest. She feared he might be taken aback, that the prospect of fatherhood might overwhelm him, especially so soon after their marriage.

But to her surprise, Benedict’s expression changed not to one of shock or apprehension, but to one of pure, unadulterated joy. His eyes widened, and a broad smile broke across his face as he processed her words.

“You think…?” he stammered, his voice laced with wonder. “You believe you carry our child?”

Y/N nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the happiness unfold across his face. “I did not know how to tell you… I feared it might be too soon, that you would be unprepared…”

Benedict’s hands cupped her face, his touch tender as he gazed down at her with all the love in his heart. “Too soon?” he echoed, his voice filled with emotion. “My love, there could be no greater news in the world. You have just given me the most precious gift I could ever receive.”

Before she could respond, Benedict swept her up into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful circle. Y/N’s laughter mingled with his, the sound of their happiness filling the room. When he finally set her down, he held her close, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, “We are to be parents, Y/N. I can scarcely believe it.”

Y/N’s tears spilled over, but they were tears of relief, of joy, of overwhelming love. She pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring all of her emotions into the tender embrace. When they finally parted, she looked up at him, her heart full to bursting. “I love you, Benedict,” she whispered. “And I am so grateful that we will embark on this journey together.”

Benedict’s arms tightened around her, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. “I love you more than words can express. You will be the most wonderful mother, and I will strive every day to be the father our child deserves.”

As they stood there in the warmth of the study, wrapped in each other’s embrace, Y/N knew that whatever fears she had harbored had been unfounded. Benedict’s love for her was unwavering.

A few weeks had passed since Y/N had first shared the news with Benedict, and their excitement had only grown with each day. Though they had reveled in the secret together, they both knew it was time to share the joy with their families. The Bridgerton clan was nothing if not close-knit, and such news was sure to be met with elation.

The day was sunny, with a pleasant breeze that made the leaves rustle in the grand trees lining the estate. The entire Bridgerton family was gathered in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall, the laughter and chatter filling the air as the siblings exchanged stories and playful jests. It was a rare occasion when they were all together, and Benedict couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth as he looked around the room.

Y/N sat beside him, her hand resting in his, their fingers intertwined. She was calm on the surface, but he could sense the slight tremor in her hand, the only sign of her nerves. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, meeting her eyes with a smile that spoke of all the love and support he had for her.

Finally, when there was a lull in the conversation, Benedict cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. “If I may have your attention, everyone,” he began, his voice carrying a note of seriousness that was unusual in their light-hearted gatherings.

The room quieted, all eyes turning to Benedict and Y/N. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in their expressions, each sibling wondering what news might be so important.

“We have something we would like to share with you all,” Benedict continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He glanced at Y/N, his gaze filled with encouragement. She nodded, and together, they turned back to the family.

“We are with child,” Y/N announced, her voice soft but clear.

For a moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Then, as if on cue, the room erupted in a chorus of exclamations, cheers, and laughter. Daphne, ever the nurturing one, was the first to rush forward, her face alight with joy as she embraced Y/N.

“Oh, Y/N! That is the most wonderful news!” Daphne exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “You are going to make such a wonderful mother.”

The rest of the siblings quickly followed suit, surrounding the couple with congratulations and hugs. Even Anthony, who often took on the role of the stern eldest brother, couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face.

“Well done, brother,” he said, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. “You’ve managed to outdo yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” Benedict replied with a grin, knowing that beneath his brother’s teasing exterior, there was deep affection.

Violet, their mother, had tears in her eyes as she enveloped Y/N in a warm embrace. “My dear, I am so happy for you both,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You are bringing such joy to this family.”

Y/N felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support. She had known that the Bridgertons would be thrilled, but the reality of it was even more touching than she had imagined. Benedict stood beside her, his arm around her waist, his pride and happiness evident in every gesture.

The rest of the day was filled with celebration. The family insisted on toasting the couple’s happiness, and there was much talk of the future, of names and nurseries, of the roles each sibling would play in the life of the new addition. Colin, ever the joker, made a grand show of predicting whether it would be a boy or a girl, while Eloise teased that she would teach the child all the ways of mischief.

As the evening drew to a close and the family began to disperse, Benedict and Y/N found themselves alone in the garden, the quiet night a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of earlier. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, and the soft rustle of the leaves provided a gentle melody to their solitude.

Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression tender as he took her hands in his. “Are you pleased, my love?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“More than I could ever put into words,” she replied, her heart full to bursting with the love she felt for him and for the family they were building together.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “We are going to be wonderful parents, Y/N,” he murmured against her skin. “And our child will be surrounded by so much love. I cannot wait to begin this new chapter with you.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, not of sadness but of overwhelming joy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as she whispered, “Nor can I, Benedict. Nor can I.”

And so, beneath the canopy of stars, they stood together, holding each other close as they looked forward to the future, their hearts filled with the promise of the life they would share a life of love, of family, and of unbreakable bonds.

[hauntedfictionland]

“I shall bid you goodnight.”— “Goodnight Mister Bridgerton.”

BRIDGERTON (Season 2: 2022 — Season 3: 2024) Director. Tom Verica

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Heated

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

The tension had been brewing for weeks, a silent storm gathering between you and Benedict. It was not one singular issue, but a cascade of unmet expectations and unspoken grievances. Benedict had been retreating to his studio with increasing frequency, consumed by the demands of his latest commission. You, meanwhile, had been left to shoulder the burdens of the household managing the staff, ensuring the children were well cared for, and navigating the endless social obligations of a Bridgerton wife. Each passing day, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to grow heavier, and the distance between you and your husband grew wider.

That evening, the dam finally broke.

Dinner was chaos. Hyacinth knocked over her bowl of soup, Gregory and Francesca bickered incessantly, and the twins conspired to switch their vegetables when they thought no one was looking. You had turned to Benedict, seeking his assistance, only to find him absent in thought, his gaze fixed on some distant point as though already lost in his art.

“Benedict,” you said, your tone sharp enough to cut through the clamor. “Might you assist me, or are you content to simply observe?”

He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and frowned. “What would you have me do? They are children; they will misbehave.”

The dismissal stung, sharper than you cared to admit. You bit your tongue, choosing to wait until the children were tucked into bed before unleashing the storm within you.

When the nursery door clicked shut, the argument erupted with the ferocity of a tempest.

“You have no notion of what it takes to manage this household, Benedict!” you exclaimed, your voice trembling with frustration. “Day after day, I am left to juggle everything while you bury yourself in your studio, as though you have not a care in the world!”

His eyes narrowed, his own irritation flaring to life. “And do you believe I am idle in my pursuits? I work tirelessly to provide for this family, Y/N. Do not presume to lecture me on my obligations!”

“Provide?” you scoffed, your tone laced with disbelief. “How can you claim to provide when you are absent from the very family you profess to care for? You do not see the strain you place upon me!”

“And you,” he countered, his voice rising to match yours, “do not see the strain I endure, the pressure to succeed, to create, to secure a legacy for our children!”

The argument escalated, both of you hurling words you would later regret. Accusations of neglect, of ingratitude, of failing each other, filled the space between you. The walls seemed to tremble with the force of your voices, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew the staff and the children could hear every word.

At last, Benedict’s anger reached its peak. “I cannot do this,” he muttered, his voice low and tight with emotion. “I need air.”

And with that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the house, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Benedict walked briskly to Aubrey Hall, the chill of the night air doing little to cool the fire in his chest. By the time he arrived at Anthony’s study, his frustration had turned to guilt.

Anthony regarded him with a raised brow as Benedict poured himself a drink. “Well, brother, you look as though you’ve been through the wars. What happened?”

“We argued,” Benedict admitted, sinking into a chair. “It was… unpleasant.”

Anthony sighed, setting his glass down. “And now you are here instead of with her. Tell me, what purpose does that serve?”

“I do not know,” Benedict muttered, his head falling into his hands. “I left because I feared I might say something I could not take back.”

“And now,” Anthony said pointedly, “you have left her alone to contend with her own anger and hurt. Return to her, Benedict. Fix it.”

“What if she will not forgive me?” Benedict asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

Anthony’s expression softened. “She loves you. Do not allow your pride to stand in the way of that.”

When Benedict returned home, the house was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. He ascended the stairs with measured steps, his heart pounding as he approached the door to your shared bedroom. Pushing it open, he found you seated on the edge of the bed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Your eyes, red from crying, lifted to meet his, a mixture of hurt and longing reflected in their depths.

Before you could utter a single word, Benedict strode across the room and cupped your face in his hands. His lips crashed against yours with an urgency that stole your breath, his kiss a fervent apology for every sharp word and every moment of neglect.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. “My love,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I was wrong. I should never have raised my voice, nor should I have walked away. I beg your forgiveness.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached up to cradle his face. “I am just as much to blame,” you whispered. “I should not have let my frustrations fester for so long. I only ever wanted you.”

“And I, you,” he said fervently. “Always.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hands sliding to your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into his arms. He carried you to the bed, laying you down with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Each touch, each whispered word, was a vow to love you, to honor you, to never let pride or anger come between you again.

As dawn broke, the warmth of forgiveness and love filled the space where anger had once dwelled. Benedict pressed a kiss to your temple, his arms wrapped securely around you. “We shall argue again,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

“Undoubtedly,” you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“But I will never walk away again,” he promised. “That, my dearest, I swear.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Sting benedict bridgerton x pregnant female reader

Benedict Bridgerton had always prided himself on maintaining his composure under pressure. However, today, as he observed his pregnant wife, Y/N, wincing in pain and clutching her arm after a wasp sting, his usual calmness swiftly dissipated.

“Benedict, it is merely a sting,” Y/N endeavored to soothe him, though her voice wavered, betraying her own discomfort.

Benedict's eyes widened with panic, his breaths coming out in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears began to form as he attempted to steady himself. "It’s alright. Just focus on me, please,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she touched his cheek. "Ben, you are not well. You are trembling. Allow me to assist you, please.”

His gaze locked onto hers, and he took a deep breath, trying to focus. "I promise I shall keep you safe, no matter what," he vowed, his voice cracking slightly.

Y/N smiled weakly, feeling a rush of warmth despite the pain. "I know you will. Now, let us tend to this, together."

With her encouragement, Benedict managed to calm down enough to gently inspect the sting. His touch was tender, his concern palpable. As he carefully tended to her, Y/N felt a sense of reassurance wash over her. She knew, without a doubt, that Benedict would always be there for her, no matter the circumstances.

But then, Y/N's face went pale, and her eyes rolled back as she collapsed into his arms. His heart pounded with sheer panic as he gently shook her, calling her name with increasing desperation.

"Y/N, my love, please, wake up!" His voice cracked, tears streaming down his cheeks. He scooped her up into his arms, her limp form cradled against his chest, and sprinted towards the house.

"Help! Someone, please help!" Benedict's shouts echoed through the halls as he carried her inside, his eyes wild with fear. He laid her carefully on the settee, fumbling to find the bell to summon the family physician.

Within minutes, the doctor arrived, quickly assessing the situation. "She is experiencing an anaphylactic reaction," he said urgently. "We must administer epinephrine at once."

Benedict watched, helpless and terrified, as the doctor injected Y/N with epinephrine and followed up with antihistamines. Every second felt like an eternity, his breath caught in his throat until he saw the color slowly returning to her cheeks and her breathing becoming steadier.

As Y/N slowly regained consciousness, her eyes fluttering open, the first sensation she felt was Benedict’s warm hand clasping hers. She tried to rise, but a wave of dizziness compelled her to remain still.

“Take it easy, my love,” Benedict murmured, his voice soft yet laden with concern. “You are safe now.”

Y/N’s hand instinctively moved to her stomach. “The baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is the baby alright?”

Benedict’s face softened, and he nodded reassuringly. “Yes, the baby is fine. The doctor has assured me that all is well.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You gave us quite a fright, but both you and the child are safe.”

Tears of relief welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she placed her other hand over her belly, feeling the reassuring flutter of their baby moving inside her. “Thank the heavens,” she breathed.

Benedict brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his eyes filled with love and relief. “You and our child are my world, Y/N. I do not know what I would have done had anything happened to you.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for being there, for saving us,” she said softly.

Benedict kissed her forehead tenderly. “I shall always be here for you, my dearest. Always.”

As the evening settled into a calm hush, Benedict sat by his wife’s bedside, ensuring she was comfortable and at ease. The scare from earlier still lingered in his mind, but seeing Y/N safe and resting brought him a measure of peace. He finally decided to retire for the night, though sleep was elusive.

A soft rustling and the sound of footsteps caught his attention. Rising from his chair, Benedict moved quietly through the house, following the faint noises until he found his wife waddling into the kitchen in her bedtime attire.

“Y/N, my love, what are you doing up at this hour?” he asked gently, concern and amusement mingling in his voice.

Y/N turned, a sheepish smile gracing her lips. “I have a hankering for something sweet,” she admitted, her eyes twinkling with a playful glint. “I could not sleep.”

Benedict’s eyes softened with affection as he watched her make her way to the larder. “And what, pray tell, has caught your fancy?”

Y/N pulled out a decadent chocolate cake, setting it on the counter with a satisfied sigh. Benedict chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “Chocolate cake, of course,” he murmured.

Without another word, he moved to a drawer, retrieving two forks. He handed one to Y/N and took the other for himself. “We shall indulge together, then,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

They settled at the kitchen table, the cake between them, and began to enjoy the rich, sweet treat. Each bite was a shared moment of quiet joy, a balm to the events of the day. Benedict watched Y/N’s eyes light up with each forkful, his heart swelling with love and gratitude.

As they savored the cake, Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. “Thank you, Benedict,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. “For everything.”

Benedict squeezed her hand gently. “Always, my love,” he replied, his eyes shining with devotion. “For you and our child, always.”

They sat there together, in the soft glow of the kitchen, enjoying their midnight snack and the unspoken promise of a future filled with love.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Bane of my existence

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! reader

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: 18+, NSFW

Your history with Benedict Bridgerton had long been marked by sharp barbs and subtle jabs, a rivalry that stretched back to your earliest years. From the very moment you first met, your differences had been irreconcilable, and thus, the Queen’s daughter and the second Bridgerton son had found themselves at constant odds, locked in a battle that spanned childhood, youth, and now adulthood.

The first incident you could recall occurred at the tender age of eleven, at a garden party your mother had hosted. You stood with all the grace befitting a royal, posture straight, hands folded properly before you, while Benedict, with his shirt untucked and face smeared with dirt, had bounded into view.

"You appear as though someone carved you from stone," he had declared with a cheeky grin, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "All stiff and far too serious."

Your nose had wrinkled in disgust at his unruly appearance. "And you, sir, resemble a wild beast escaped from the forest. Have you no sense of decorum?"

Benedict had merely laughed, unbothered by your rebuke. "What’s the use of decorum when fun can be had?"

It was then, you supposed, that the antagonism between you was born an endless exchange of insults that grew fiercer as the years passed. Every ball, every gathering, every accidental meeting in the gardens of your respective homes became a stage for your verbal sparring. You, the epitome of refinement and dignity, and he, the charming rogue who seemingly cared for none of it.

In your teenage years, things only worsened. Benedict had grown into his looks, tall and handsome, with a carefree demeanor that drew many an admirer to him, though none more unwillingly than yourself. At a ball hosted by the Queen herself, you had stood across the room, watching with disdain as Benedict flirted shamelessly with a young debutante. It irked you, though you could not understand why.

"Are you jealous, Your Highness?" he had teased when he caught your gaze, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

"Jealous?" you had scoffed, lifting your chin. "I am merely astonished that you manage to capture the attention of anyone at all, given your deplorable manners."

Benedict had sauntered closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "You wound me. Perhaps you care more than you let on."

"I assure you, I do not," you had responded icily, though the rapid beating of your heart betrayed you.

Yet the more you pushed him away, the closer he seemed to draw. His infuriating charm, his roguish wit it all aggravated you beyond measure. And still, you couldn’t deny that some part of you thrived on the challenge he presented. You were two forces constantly in opposition, and neither of you could back down.

But the night that truly shifted everything came much later, when the two of you had grown into adults,adults with a history of conflict, yes, but with something deeper stirring beneath the surface, though you were too proud to acknowledge it.

The night of the fateful ball had begun like any other. You arrived, as you always did, resplendent in your finest gown, your chin held high as you entered the grand ballroom. You had resolved to avoid Benedict Bridgerton altogether that evening, for the mere thought of another sparring match with him exhausted you. But, as always, fate had other plans.

Across the room, you saw him leaning casually against a pillar, his eyes scanning the crowd with that familiar look of lazy amusement. His gaze met yours, and though you tried to look away, something held you in place. It was infuriating, the way he could draw your attention with so little effort. You scolded yourself for the flush that crept up your neck as you turned to your current dance partner, determined to focus on anyone but Benedict.

In your determination to be rid of him from your thoughts, you had flirted with the gentleman in your company more boldly than usual, laughing at his every remark and placing your hand on his arm in a way you knew would be noticed. And noticed it was.

Benedict had appeared by your side, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing with something dark and unfamiliar. "Might I cut in?" he asked, though his tone was not so much a request as a command.

Your dance partner had stepped aside, leaving you standing there with Benedict, your heart racing in anticipation of yet another argument.

"Have you something to say, Mr. Bridgerton?" you asked coolly as he led you to the edge of the ballroom.

"Oh, plenty," he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "Is this how you secure a gentleman’s affections? By simpering and laughing at their every word?"

You had stared at him in shock. The barb was sharper than any he had thrown before. "What concern is it of yours how I behave?" you demanded, your voice trembling with barely contained fury.

"I had thought you had more dignity than to act like... like a common flirt," he bit out, the venom in his tone unmistakable.

His words struck you like a blow to the chest, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, betraying your anger and hurt. The look in his eyes changed immediately regret flickered across his face, but it was too late. You turned and fled, refusing to let him see how deeply he had wounded you.

For weeks, you shut him out completely. You ordered the guards to turn him away from the palace, refusing to see him whenever he came to call. The hurt he had inflicted upon you ran too deep. You had always sparred with him, yes, but never had he been so cruel. And what’s worse, you hated how much his words had affected you. Why did it matter what he thought? Why did “he” matter at all?

Yet, despite your attempts to forget him, Benedict occupied your thoughts at all hours. His absence gnawed at you, and though you refused to admit it to yourself, you missed him. You missed the way his presence had always drawn a spark from you, the way he challenged you in a way no one else ever had.

The culmination of your silence came at Lady Danbury’s ball. You had resolved to enjoy yourself that evening, to forget Benedict Bridgerton and all the chaos he brought into your life. But, as you danced with another suitor, you felt that familiar gaze upon you once more. Benedict’s eyes followed your every move, and something inside of you stirred, a mixture of longing and anger.

As you flirted with your current partner, you saw Benedict’s expression darken, his gaze narrowing in jealousy. Without warning, he stormed across the ballroom and interrupted your dance, his voice tight with barely restrained fury.

"May I cut in?" he asked, though it was clear he would brook no refusal.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, allowing him to take your hand and lead you from the crowded ballroom. He guided you into a private study, closing the door behind him, his expression one of frustration and desperation.

"I cannot stand it any longer, Y/N," he began, his voice low and urgent. "This charade between us it must end."

You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "Charade? What nonsense are you speaking now?"

"I love you," he said, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. "I have always loved you, and it is driving me mad. These games we play this endless fighting I cannot bear it anymore."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden confession. "You... love me?"

"Yes," he breathed, stepping closer, his eyes searching yours. "And I fear I have ruined everything with my careless words. I never meant to hurt you that night. I was jealous of seeing you with another man, when all I have ever wanted was you."

For a moment, you were silent, your heart racing as his words sank in. This was what you had both been avoiding, what had simmered beneath the surface for years. All the arguments, the rivalry, the tension it had been love all along.

"Benedict," you whispered, your voice soft as you reached out to touch his cheek. "Why did we waste so much time fighting?"

"I know not," he replied, covering your hand with his own. "But I swear to you, I will fight no longer. I will love you, if you will have me."

Your heart swelled with warmth as you stepped into his arms, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Then kiss me, Mr. Bridgerton, and let us end this foolish war once and for all."

And kiss you he did. It was a kiss filled with years of longing, of frustration, of love that had been denied for far too long. As his lips met yours, you felt every barrier between you crumble, leaving only the truth of what you both had known all along. You were meant to be together, and nothing not even years of rivalry could keep you apart now.

When the kiss finally ended, you rested your forehead against his, a smile curving your lips. "It appears we are not enemies after all."

"No," Benedict whispered, his arms tightening around you. "We are lovers, and we always shall be."

Benedict's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed at Y/N. The years of tension between them had finally reached a breaking point. With a swift motion, he lifted her onto the nearby desk, their lips crashing together in a passionate kiss.

"Benedict," Y/N gasped as his lips trailed down her neck. "I've never... This is all so new to me."

He paused, looking into her eyes with tenderness. "We'll take it slow, my love. Trust me."

As they continued exploring this new intimacy, Benedict guided Y/N gently, explaining each sensation and asking for her consent. Y/N's reactions were filled with wonder and growing desire.

"Is there more?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes shining with curiosity and trust.

Benedict smiled warmly. "My love, there is so much more. But only if you're ready to take that step. We have all the time in the world."

Y/N's heart raced as she gazed into Benedict's eyes, her body trembling with anticipation. "I'm ready," she whispered, her voice filled with trust and desire.

Benedict's hands gently caressed her face. "Are you certain, my love? We can stop at any time."

Y/N nodded, her fingers tangling in his hair. "I want this. I want you, Benedict."

With tender care, Benedict began to undress her, his lips trailing kisses along each newly exposed patch of skin. Y/N gasped at the sensations, her inexperienced body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Benedict," she breathed, "what are you doing? It feels... incredible."

He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Allow me to show you, darling."

Benedict's fingers deftly unlaced Y/N's corset, his touch sending shivers down her spine. As the garment fell away, he paused, drinking in the sight of her.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Y/N blushed, unused to such open admiration. "Benedict, I..."

He silenced her with a gentle kiss. "Trust me, my love. Let me worship you as you deserve."

His lips trailed lower, exploring newly exposed skin. Y/N gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations. Her fingers clutched at the desk's edge, her body arching towards Benedict's touch.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. "Is this... is this what it's supposed to feel like?"

Benedict looked up, his eyes dark with passion. "This is just the beginning, darling. There's so much more to discover together."

Y/N trembled with anticipation as Benedict's hands gently caressed her thighs. His touch was reverent, exploring every curve and contour of her body with tender care.

"Benedict," she whispered, her voice quivering. "I've never felt anything like this before."

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and desire. "I promise to make this perfect for you, my darling. Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."

As his lips brushed against her inner thigh, Y/N gasped softly. The sensations were overwhelming, but exquisite. She tangled her fingers in Benedict's curls, urging him closer.

"Please," she breathed, though unsure exactly what she was asking for. "I need... more."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Benedict's skilled ministrations sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her fingers tightened in his curls, holding him close as she arched against the desk.

"Benedict," she gasped, her voice trembling with newfound desire. "I... I feel like I'm about to..."

Benedict looked up, his eyes dark with passion. "Let go, my love. I've got you."

With a soft cry, Y/N surrendered to the sensations, her body shuddering with release. Benedict held her gently, whispering words of love and praise as she came down from her high.

As Y/N's breathing steadied, she gazed at Benedict with wonder and adoration. "That was... incredible," she murmured. "Is there truly more?"

Benedict smiled tenderly, caressing her flushed cheek. "Only if you're ready, darling. We have all the time in the world."

Benedict's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed at Y/N. With gentle but firm hands, he guided her to the edge of the desk. "Are you sure about this, my love?" he asked, his voice husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with trust and longing. "Yes, Benedict. I want you."

Slowly, reverently, Benedict joined their bodies. Y/N gasped at the new sensation, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved carefully, allowing her time to adjust.

"More," Y/N breathed after a moment. "Please, Benedict."

A smirk played on his lips as he gradually increased his pace. The room filled with their soft gasps and moans as they moved together, lost in passion.

As their climax approached, Benedict pulled away, finishing in a nearby handkerchief.

Y/N looked at him, confused. "What was that?"

"My seed," he explained gently. "I want to marry you properly before we risk creating a child."

Y/N's eyes widened with understanding, a blush creeping across her cheeks. "Oh," she whispered, her voice a mix of embarrassment and awe. "I hadn't even thought about... children."

Benedict smiled tenderly, cupping her face in his hands. "There's no need to be embarrassed, my love. It's all part of the beautiful journey we're embarking on together."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with emotion. "You're always so thoughtful, Benedict. It's one of the many reasons I love you."

"And I love you, my darling," Benedict replied, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Now, we should probably make ourselves presentable before someone comes looking for us."

As they began to straighten their clothes and hair, Y/N couldn't help but giggle. "What will we tell people if they ask where we've been?"

Benedict's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Why, we were simply engaged in a heated debate about... art. Yes, art. That sounds believable, doesn't it?"

Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "You're incorrigible, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Only for you, Your Highness," he replied with a wink.

Benedict's eyes lit up with joy as he gazed at Y/N. "My love," he said softly, taking her hands in his, "shall we share our happiness with the world? Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Y/N's heart soared at his words. She nodded, tears of joy glistening in her eyes. "Yes, Benedict. A thousand times yes!"

They shared a tender kiss, sealing their promise to each other. As they parted, Benedict's expression turned playful. "Well then, future Mrs. Bridgerton, shall we go scandalize the ton with our news?"

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Lead the way, my love. I can't wait to see Lady Whistledown's column tomorrow!"

Hand in hand, they left the study, ready to face the world together. As they stepped into the ballroom, all eyes turned to them. The whispers began immediately, but Benedict and Y/N paid them no mind. They had eyes only for each other.

And just like that, their story became legend the tale of the Queen's daughter and the artistic Bridgerton son, whose rivalry turned to love against all odds.

[hauntedfictionland]

BRIDGERTON: first look of Colin & Penelope in S3 Director. Tom Verica

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Mirror

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f! reader

summary: Y/N delights in showing Benedict her new gowns, leading to an intimate and passionate evening.

warning: 18+, sexual content

Madam Delacroix’s boutique was a whirlwind of silks and lace as Y/N perused the new gowns for the upcoming season. The air buzzed with excitement as the French modiste personally attended to her, offering opinions and making adjustments to ensure the perfect fit. After several hours, Y/N left the shop with an array of stunning dresses, each one carefully wrapped and ready to be admired.

Upon returning to Bridgerton House, Y/N could scarcely contain her eagerness to present her selections to her husband, Benedict. She found him in the library, engrossed in a sketch. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he set aside his pencil immediately.

“Darling, you have returned,” Benedict said, his smile widening as he stood to greet her.

“Yes, and I have something to show you,” Y/N replied, excitement evident in her voice.

They made their way to their bedchamber, where Y/N began to unveil the dresses one by one. Benedict watched attentively, offering compliments and admiring each gown. But when Y/N held up the navy blue dress, his breath caught in his throat.

“Try this one on,” he suggested, his voice low and thick with anticipation.

Y/N smiled, sensing the change in his demeanor. She slipped into the dress and stepped in front of the mirror. The navy blue fabric hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her glowing complexion. The neckline framed her beautifully, making her breasts sit just right in the dress. Benedict could not take his eyes off her.

“You look… stunning,” he murmured, his gaze darkening with desire.

Y/N turned to face him, her cheeks flushing under his intense scrutiny. “Do you truly like it?”

“Like it?” he repeated, stepping closer until he was inches away. “I love it. You look absolutely divine.”

His hands found her waist, pulling her against him. “You drive me wild, my love. I cannot take my eyes off you.”

She shivered at his words, feeling his breath hot against her ear. “Benedict…”

“Turn around,” he whispered, guiding her to face the mirror.

Y/N obeyed, her pulse quickening as she met his gaze in the reflection. Benedict’s hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves accentuated by the dress. He pressed a kiss to her neck, his lips trailing fire along her skin.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. “I want you to see what I see.”

His hands slipped under the fabric, lifting the hem of the dress slowly. Y/N gasped as his fingers brushed against her thighs, his touch igniting a burning need within her. Benedict’s eyes never left hers in the mirror, his expression one of pure, unrestrained desire.

“Benedict, please…” she begged, her voice trembling.

He smirked, his hands moving higher. “I wish to make you feel as beautiful as you look.”

In one swift motion, he had her dress bunched around her waist, his fingers slipping between her thighs. Y/N’s breath hitched as he found her most sensitive spot, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her.

“Watch yourself,” he commanded softly. “See how beautiful you are when you come apart.”

Y/N’s eyes remained locked on the mirror, her body arching into his touch. Benedict knelt behind her, his lips trailing kisses along her thighs before settling between her legs. His tongue teased her, eliciting a moan from deep within her chest.

“Benedict…” she whimpered, her fingers gripping the edge of the vanity for support.

He responded with a growl, his mouth working her skillfully. Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back as the pleasure became almost too much to bear. Just as she was about to tip over the edge, he pulled away, leaving her gasping.

“Not yet,” he murmured, standing and turning her to face him. “I want to see you come undone while I am inside you.”

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her against the mirror. Y/N’s eyes flew open, meeting his intense gaze as he entered her slowly. The sensation was overwhelming, each movement drawing them closer to the brink.

“Look at us,” Benedict whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the mirror, her reflection showing a woman lost in pleasure, held securely in the arms of the man she loved. Benedict’s eyes were dark with passion, his every thrust bringing them closer to release.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice strained.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

With a final, powerful thrust, they both shattered, their cries echoing through the room. Benedict held her tightly, his forehead resting against hers as they came down from their high.

“You are always beautiful to me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. “But seeing you like this, it is beyond words.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love and contentment. “And you, my dear husband, make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.”

As they slowly returned to reality, Y/N reluctantly disentangled herself from Benedict’s embrace. They shared a tender kiss, their lips still tingling from the passion they had just shared. Benedict helped her adjust the navy blue dress back into place, his fingers lingering on her skin as he did.

“We should head down to dinner,” Y/N said softly, though a part of her wished they could stay in their intimate bubble forever.

Benedict smirked, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “Yes, but not before one more thing.”

He guided her to the bed and gently helped her out of the dress, laying it carefully aside. Y/N shivered as he caressed her thighs, spreading her legs slightly. He reached for a soft towel, cleaning her tenderly before scooping up his seed and pushing it back inside her.

“Benedict!” Y/N gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.

He looked up at her, his gaze smoldering. “I want you to remember this moment all through dinner. To feel me inside you, even when we are surrounded by family.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine as she nodded, speechless. Benedict helped her into a more modest dinner dress, his hands lingering on her waist before leading her downstairs.

The dining room was filled with the usual lively chatter of the Bridgerton family. Benedict and Y/N took their seats, sharing a secret smile. Throughout the meal, Y/N could not help but be acutely aware of the warmth and fullness within her, a delicious reminder of their earlier passion.

Benedict occasionally brushed his fingers against hers, his eyes filled with unspoken promises. Every touch, every glance sent a thrill through Y/N, making her pulse quicken. She could barely focus on the conversation around her, her mind constantly drifting back to the feeling of Benedict’s hands and lips on her body.

As the meal progressed, Y/N shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the subtle drip of Benedict’s seed inside her. It was a heady sensation, a secret only they shared amidst the bustling family dinner.

Benedict leaned over, his lips brushing against her ear. “How are you feeling, my love?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her cheeks flushing. “I feel… wonderful.”

“Good,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. “Because after dinner, I plan to show you just how much more I can make you feel.”

Y/N bit her lip, a wave of desire washing over her. She managed to maintain her composure through the rest of the meal, though her mind was already racing ahead to what awaited them.

As the family began to disperse, Benedict took her hand, leading her back upstairs. Once inside their bedroom, he closed the door behind them, turning to her with a look of pure, unrestrained hunger.

“Now, let us see how much more pleasure we can find together,” he murmured, his hands already working to undress her.

Y/N’s heart pounded in anticipation, knowing that this night was far from over. With Benedict, every moment was an adventure, and she was ready to explore every bit of passion they could discover together in hopes to create an heir.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. With stop being so pretty/handsome.” “You stop being so pretty/handsome!” Thanks!! :))

beautiful

benedict bridgerton x fem wife reader

Benedict Bridgerton was in the drawing room, a mess of papers scattered across the mahogany table. His easel stood nearby, a canvas half covered in the beginnings of a vibrant landscape. He had been at it for hours, completely absorbed in his art, when the door creaked open and Y/N stepped in, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

"You’ve been in here all morning," Y/N chided gently, setting the tray down on a clear corner of the table. "You must be famished."

Benedict looked up, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of his wife. "I hadn't realized the time," he admitted, rising from his chair and stretching his stiff limbs. "But now that you mention it, I am quite hungry."

As he approached, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. His dark curls were tousled, and there was a smudge of paint on his cheek, adding to his roguish charm. She felt her heart skip a beat, as it often did when she looked at him.

"You have paint on your face," she said, reaching up to wipe it away with her thumb. "And you still manage to look devastatingly handsome."

Benedict caught her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. "You stop being so pretty," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "It's terribly distracting."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and musical. "You stop being so handsome," she retorted. "It's not fair."

They stood there for a moment, simply enjoying each other's presence. Benedict's thumb brushed over her knuckles, his touch warm and reassuring. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I suppose we're both cursed, then," he whispered.

"Cursed with beauty," Y/N agreed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "What a dreadful fate."

Benedict chuckled, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Indeed. Now, tell me about your morning. What mischief have you been up to while I’ve been locked away with my paints?"

"Oh, the usual," Y/N said airily, resting her head against his chest. "A bit of reading, a walk in the garden. I did have an interesting conversation with Eloise about her latest literary endeavor."

"Ah, Eloise and her books," Benedict mused. "She’s always up to something, isn’t she?"

"Yes, she is," Y/N said fondly. "But enough about my morning. I want to hear about your painting. Show me what you’ve been working on."

Benedict led her to the easel, where the canvas stood proudly displaying the beginnings of a lush countryside scene. The colors were vibrant, the strokes confident and expressive. Y/N marveled at the way he captured the essence of nature with such skill.

"It’s beautiful," she breathed. "You have such a talent, Benedict."

He shrugged modestly, though her praise clearly pleased him. "It’s still a work in progress. But I’m glad you like it."

"I love it," she corrected, her eyes meeting his. "Just as I love you."

Benedict’s expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. "And I love you, Y/N. More than words can say."

Their lips met in a tender kiss, the world around them fading away. In that moment, there was only the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of their love and the promise of countless beautiful moments yet to come.

When they finally pulled apart, Benedict pressed his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers. "Stay with me," he murmured. "Let’s enjoy this day together."

"Of course," Y/N whispered, her heart full. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be."

And so they spent the rest of the day side by side, painting, talking, and simply being together. The hours slipped by unnoticed, filled with laughter and light. In the comfort of each other's presence, they found a joy that was as boundless as their love, and the world outside seemed a little brighter, a little more beautiful.

As the afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the windows, they decided to take a break and stroll through the garden. The summer flowers were in full bloom, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Benedict held Y/N’s hand as they walked, his thumb gently stroking her palm.

"Do you remember our first walk in this garden?" Y/N asked, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips.

"How could I forget?" Benedict replied. "I was utterly captivated by you. Still am, in fact."

"You were so nervous," Y/N teased. "You could barely string a sentence together."

"Well, you were and still are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen," Benedict said earnestly. "It was quite overwhelming."

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to Benedict’s ears. "And now look at us," she said. "Walking hand in hand, perfectly at ease."

"Perfectly in love," Benedict added, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

They continued their stroll, enjoying the serenity of the garden and the simple pleasure of each other's company. As they rounded a corner, they came upon a secluded bench beneath a large oak tree. Benedict led Y/N to it, and they sat down, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above them.

"You’ve always been my muse, you know," Benedict said softly, gazing at Y/N. "Every brushstroke, every color, every canvas it’s all inspired by you."

"That’s a lot of pressure," Y/N joked, but her eyes were shining with affection.

"Not at all," Benedict said. "You make it effortless. You bring so much joy and light into my life. I couldn’t imagine my art, or my life, without you."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. "And you, Benedict, have filled my life with such beauty and love. Every day with you is a blessing."

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a kiss that spoke of love, of commitment, and of the future they would continue to build together.

As the day turned to dusk, they made their way back to the house, hand in hand. The drawing room, once filled with the solitary pursuit of art, now felt warmer, more alive. They settled on the settee, sharing the tea and biscuits Y/N had brought earlier.

"Shall we make this a tradition?" Y/N suggested. "A day dedicated to us, to spending time together, no matter what."

"I’d like that very much," Benedict agreed. "A day just for us, every week."

"Good," Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder. "Because I love our moments together. They’re my favorite part of every day."

"And mine," Benedict said, wrapping his arm around her. "Always and forever, Y/N."

They sat there in comfortable silence, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. Their hearts were full, their spirits content. In each other, they had found a love that was not only beautiful but also enduring a love that would see them through all of life’s challenges and triumphs.

And as they drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew that they were not just blessed with beauty, but with something far more precious: a deep, abiding love that would last a lifetime

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. Feat their children. A missing wife and a frantic family looking for her. Thanks!! :))

Missing

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

As the tranquil day at Aubrey Hall drew to an end, the golden rays of the setting sun cast an ethereal glow upon the Bridgerton estate. Benedict had planned a serene day alongside his beloved wife, Y/N, and their three dear children, basking in the contentment of family and the delicate exchange of glances that bespoke a love unbreakable.

However, as the evening shadows lengthened, a strange unease settled over Benedict’s heart. Y/N had ventured into the meadows with their eldest daughter, intent on gathering wildflowers to grace the drawing room. Benedict had remained behind with their two sons, the image of his wife and daughter laughing amongst the flowers lingering in his mind. Yet, as time wore on, his heart grew troubled, each passing moment deepening his sense of dread.

He called her name as he paced through the fields, his sons clinging to his sides with fretful expressions. Each shout of “Y/N!” grew louder, more desperate, reverberating through the quiet countryside, unanswered and met only with the whisper of the evening breeze. By the time he returned to the house, his face was a portrait of worry, his hands trembling as he tried to mask his alarm.

Word of Y/N’s mysterious absence spread swiftly among the Bridgertons. Anthony, ever the steady and pragmatic elder brother, seized command, rallying the family into search parties. Lanterns were lit, their warm glow piercing the encroaching darkness as the family fanned out, each one calling Y/N’s name into the cool night air, a chorus of worry and love.

Yet Benedict himself could scarcely manage coherence. His steps were hurried and unsteady, his breaths shallow, as if the very fear of her loss had stolen his ability to think clearly. Dark, haunting thoughts flitted through his mind visions of what might befall her, each more terrifying than the last. What if she lay injured, beyond his reach? What if… he dared not finish the thought, for even the idea of a world devoid of her presence threatened to unravel him.

As he roamed the forest edge, his heart aching with worry, a soft whimper caught his ear. Turning swiftly, he found their eldest daughter, her small frame trembling as she clung to a tree, her cheeks stained with frightened tears.

“Papa,” she whimpered, her voice a mere whisper in the stillness, “I lost Mama. I tried to find her, but… but I couldn’t.”

In an instant, Benedict dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to her brow. “Hush now, my darling,” he murmured, voice low and tender. “You did all you could. You are most brave, and I am here. We shall find her together.”

Hand in hand with his daughter, Benedict continued his search, his steps purposeful despite the persistent tremor in his heart. He would not could not give up, for the very thought was unthinkable. She was his heart, his soul, the very essence of his life.

Finally, as they entered a quiet glade shrouded in moonlight, his gaze fell upon a familiar figure, seated upon a fallen log, her ankle twisted, yet her countenance as serene as ever.

“Y/N!” he cried, voice choked with relief as he closed the distance between them. He fell to his knees beside her, enveloping her in his arms with a tenderness born of desperation. “My dearest, are you quite well? What befell you?”

“Oh, Benedict,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she clung to him. “I am unharmed save for a foolish misstep. I twisted my ankle, and could not find my way back. I am so terribly sorry to have caused you worry.”

“Never say such a thing,” he murmured, his voice thick as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You are safe, and that is all that matters. I cannot bear the thought of life without you. The very notion would undo me.”

A quiet sob escaped her, and she buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him as if he were her anchor. He held her close, his hand weaving into her hair, murmuring assurances as his heart began to calm, each beat syncing to the warmth of her embrace.

Gently, Benedict lifted her into his arms, ignoring her weak protests that she could manage to walk. “Tonight, I shall carry you,” he insisted, a rare softness in his voice. “I cannot bring myself to let you out of my sight.”

When they returned to the estate, the family erupted with joy and relief, their children bounding forward, their laughter mingling with tears as they embraced their mother. Benedict settled her upon the sofa in the drawing room, wrapping her in a blanket as she rested her head against his shoulder, their children snuggling in close as though they, too, needed the comfort of her presence.

“Mama, tell us a story,” their eldest daughter whispered, her wide eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the fireplace.

Y/N smiled gently, settling a storybook upon her lap as their children nestled close, and she began to read, her voice soft and soothing, carrying the words with a warmth that wrapped around them all.

Benedict watched her, captivated by her grace, the way she animated each tale, the gentle glint in her eyes as she held their children’s undivided attention. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

She paused, glancing at him with a playful sparkle. “Mr. Bridgerton, might you be so kind as to cease your staring?”

He chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a blush. “Forgive me, Mrs. Bridgerton. But it is quite impossible to look away from a sight so enchanting.”

Their children groaned, accustomed to their parents’ displays of affection, yet Benedict could see the small, contented smile tugging at Y/N’s lips.

Once the story concluded, the children trotted off to bed, each one pausing to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before retiring. Benedict took her hand, guiding her to their bedchamber with a gentle care, lifting her in his arms as they ascended the stairs despite her gentle protests.

“Must you always be so stubborn?” she teased, though she leaned into him, her fingers tracing the familiar curve of his shoulder as he carried her.

“My dear,” he replied, his tone soft yet unwavering, “you must know by now that my resolve is unyielding when it concerns your well-being.”

In their room, he settled her upon the bed, carefully propping her ankle as he tucked a blanket around her. Lying beside her, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they lay in contented silence.

At length, Y/N broke the stillness, her fingers tracing circles over his chest. “Benedict, I feared you might think me careless.”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her brow. “Perish the thought, my love. I am simply grateful to have you here, safe and within my arms. I could not fathom a world devoid of your presence.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes soft with love. “And I, Benedict, could never be complete without you. You are my heart, my constant.”

He took her hand, lifting it to his lips as he murmured, “Then let us remain as one, my beloved. Come what may, I vow to cherish you for all my days.”

With her hand still in his, Y/N drifted to sleep, her breath soft and even against his shoulder. Benedict watched her, his heart swelling with gratitude for the love that bound them, a love so steadfast that no force could sever it.

As he held her close, he whispered his vow once more, knowing that his heart had found its home, and that no darkness could ever diminish the light they shared.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

The Great Bridgerton Prank War

benedict bridgerton x female wife reader

The Bridgerton estate was always full of life, laughter, and the occasional bit of mischief. Benedict Bridgerton and his wife, Y/N, were no strangers to the lively antics that often filled their home. In fact, Y/N had become something of a mastermind in the art of pranking, much to the delight of Gregory and Hyacinth, who were her eager accomplices.

It all started one sunny afternoon when Y/N, Gregory, and Hyacinth were lounging in the garden. Gregory, always up for a bit of fun, was regaling them with tales of past pranks he had pulled on his siblings.

“You know,” Y/N said thoughtfully, “I think it’s time we up the ante. What do you say we team up and pull off the greatest prank the Bridgerton family has ever seen?”

Hyacinth’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, yes! What do you have in mind?”

Y/N leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I have a few ideas…”

The first target was Colin, who was known for his love of food. Y/N, Gregory, and Hyacinth spent the evening preparing a batch of Y/N’s famous scones, but with a twist. They added an extra ingredient to a few of them: a generous amount of hot pepper.

The next morning, as the family gathered for breakfast, Colin was the first to reach for the scones. Y/N and her co-conspirators watched with barely concealed glee as he took a large bite. His eyes widened, and he reached for his glass of water, chugging it down as quickly as he could.

“What on earth is in these scones?” Colin spluttered, his face turning red.

Y/N feigned innocence. “Is something wrong, Colin? They’re just my usual recipe.”

Gregory and Hyacinth couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer. Colin glared at them, realizing he had been had. “Very funny,” he said, his lips still burning. “Just wait until it’s your turn.”

Next up was Eloise. Knowing her sister-in-law’s love for her morning routine, Y/N concocted a plan involving a bit of artistic trickery. Late at night, with Gregory and Hyacinth’s help, she replaced Eloise’s vanity mirror with a painted replica that distorted her reflection.

The following morning, Eloise sat down to brush her hair and nearly jumped out of her seat when she saw her reflection. Her face appeared comically stretched and squished.

“What in the world?” Eloise exclaimed, leaning closer to the mirror. “I look like a funhouse version of myself!”

Y/N, Gregory, and Hyacinth, who had been hiding nearby, burst into laughter. “Got you!” Gregory shouted.

Eloise, recovering from her shock, couldn’t help but laugh. “All right, you win this round. But I’ll be ready for you next time.”

Anthony, the eldest Bridgerton, prided himself on his orderliness and discipline. Naturally, he was the perfect target for their next prank. With Benedict’s unwitting help, Y/N, Gregory, and Hyacinth carefully rearranged Anthony’s meticulously organized study.

Books were placed out of order, papers were shuffled, and his favorite pen was hidden. When Anthony entered his study, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene.

“What happened here?” he demanded, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Y/N strolled in, a picture of innocence. “Is something wrong, Anthony? It looks fine to me.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room. “This is not how I left it.”

Gregory and Hyacinth peeked around the doorframe, trying to stifle their giggles. Anthony’s expression softened as he realized he had fallen victim to their mischief.

“You three are incorrigible,” he said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Just remember, I know how to get even.”

For the grand finale, Y/N decided to involve Benedict. They planned to prank Daphne and Simon, who were visiting for the weekend. With Gregory and Hyacinth’s help, they set up a series of harmless but hilarious traps around the guest room.

When Daphne and Simon arrived, they were greeted with a cascade of balloons falling from the closet, a whoopee cushion strategically placed on the armchair, and a bucket of confetti rigged to the door.

Daphne’s laughter rang through the house as she and Simon navigated the series of pranks. “I should have known you lot were up to something,” she said, still giggling.

Simon, ever the good sport, joined in the laughter. “I must say, you’ve outdone yourselves this time.”

Y/N, Gregory, Hyacinth, and Benedict gathered in the hallway, their faces beaming with pride and mischief. “Welcome to the Bridgerton Prank War,” Y/N declared. “May the best prankster win.”

The Bridgerton siblings took the pranks in stride, each vowing to get their revenge in due time. The house was filled with laughter and playful plotting, as everyone tried to outdo one another.

One evening, as Y/N and Benedict sat by the fire, Benedict pulled her close. “You know, my love, you’ve brought so much joy and fun into this family. I can’t imagine life without your laughter.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without Gregory and Hyacinth. They’re wonderful partners in crime.”

Benedict chuckled. “Indeed they are. But be careful they might turn on you next.”

Y/N laughed, her heart full. “Let them try. I’m always ready.”

And so, the Bridgerton household remained a place of love, laughter, and endless fun, each day bringing new adventures and cherished memories. The pranks became a beloved tradition, a testament to the bond that held the family together, and a reminder that in the Bridgerton home, there was always room for a little bit of mischief and a lot of love.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

enchantment

benedict bridgerton x female wife reader

It was a bright and sunny afternoon at Aubrey Hall, and the Bridgerton family was gathered in the drawing room for a spontaneous tea party. The room buzzed with chatter and laughter, children running around with joyful squeals, and adults engaging in lighthearted banter. It was a typical Bridgerton family gathering, full of love and lively energy.

Y/N found herself standing, balancing a cup of tea, as all the seats seemed to be taken. She scanned the room for a spot to sit, but every chair and settee was occupied. Benedict, lounging comfortably in a large armchair, noticed her predicament and flashed her a mischievous grin.

"Looks like you need a place to sit, darling," he teased, patting his lap invitingly.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. She carefully made her way over to him, setting her teacup down on the nearby table. "If you insist," she replied with a mock sigh, before settling herself onto his lap.

Benedict wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She leaned back against his chest, feeling his warmth envelop her. It was a familiar and comforting sensation, one that made her heart flutter with contentment. His hand rested casually on her hip, fingers drawing absent-minded patterns on the fabric of her dress.

As the conversations continued around them, Benedict’s gaze roamed over Y/N’s face, admiring the way the sunlight highlighted her features. She caught him staring and raised an eyebrow in amusement. “What are you looking at?”

“Just admiring my beautiful wife,” he said, his voice low and filled with affection.

She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, but she couldn't resist giving him a little smirk. “Oh really? And what, pray tell, is so fascinating about me today?”

Benedict’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Everything,” he whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. Her eyes sparkled with playful challenge. “You do realize we’re not alone, right?”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her back. “Let them watch. They’re just jealous they don’t have what we do.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head at his cheekiness. But she couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through her at his words. There was something wonderfully exhilarating about their playful exchanges, the way they could flirt and tease each other even in a room full of people.

Benedict’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she returned the gesture, her heart swelling with love for the man who never failed to make her feel special.

As the afternoon wore on, their little bubble of intimacy remained unbroken. They shared secret glances and soft murmurs, their connection palpable even in the midst of the bustling family gathering. Every now and then, Benedict would wink at her, a silent promise of more to come later, and she would respond with a smile that held all the love and affection she felt for him.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. They're celebrating Christmas as a family with their children. ( idk if they celebrated it back then) Just something fluff and cute. Maybe a tradition was born. You decide what it was. Thanks!! :))

A Bridgerton Christmas

benedict bridgerton x fem wife reader

The Bridgerton household was alight with festive cheer. The grand estate was adorned with garlands of holly and ivy, while the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked gingerbread wafted through the halls. Snow had blanketed the grounds outside, transforming the landscape into a winter wonderland. Inside, warmth radiated from every corner, courtesy of the roaring fireplaces and the love that permeated the air.

Benedict Bridgerton, ever the artist, had spent the morning with his children, helping them craft intricate paper snowflakes and ornaments to hang on the tree. Each child’s creation was unique, a testament to the imagination and creativity that Benedict so cherished in them. Y/N, his beloved wife, had been bustling about the kitchen, overseeing the preparation of the Christmas feast with the help of the household staff. She wore an apron over her elegant dress, a slight smudge of flour on her cheek only adding to her radiant charm.

As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered grounds, Benedict gathered the children in the drawing room. Their laughter and excitement filled the space as they eagerly awaited the evening’s festivities. Y/N joined them shortly, her smile lighting up the room as she carried a tray of hot cocoa, each mug topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“Who’s ready to decorate the tree?” Benedict asked, his eyes twinkling with joy.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the children, and they all scrambled to their feet, rushing towards the towering evergreen that stood in the corner of the room. The tree was already adorned with twinkling lights and a few cherished ornaments, but it awaited the special touch of the Bridgerton family.

One by one, they hung their handcrafted decorations, each child carefully selecting the perfect branch for their creation. Benedict lifted the youngest, a giggling little girl, so she could place her star at the very top of the tree. Y/N stood back, admiring the scene, her heart swelling with love and pride.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, slipping her hand into Benedict’s.

“It is,” he agreed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “But not as beautiful as you.”

Y/N blushed, leaning into him as they watched their children. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, the spirit of Christmas infusing every moment with magic.

Once the tree was complete, the family gathered around the fireplace. Benedict took out his sketchbook, capturing the scene with swift, sure strokes. The children were transfixed, watching their father bring their Christmas to life on the page.

“Papa, can you tell us a story?” one of the older children asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Benedict smiled, closing his sketchbook. “Of course. Let’s see… how about the story of our very first Christmas together?”

The children settled in, leaning against their parents as Benedict began his tale. He spoke of their courtship, the way he had fallen in love with Y/N’s laughter and kindness. He recounted the snowy evening he had proposed, the joy they had felt as they planned their future together. And finally, he told them about their first Christmas as husband and wife, a day filled with love and laughter, setting the foundation for all the joyous celebrations to come.

As Benedict spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a tear slip down her cheek. The story was a reminder of how far they had come, of the love that had only grown stronger with each passing year.

When the story ended, the children were filled with questions, eager to hear more about their parents’ adventures. But Y/N stood, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think it’s time for a new tradition,” she announced, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Benedict raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what might that be, my love?”

Y/N beckoned the children to follow her, leading them to the kitchen. There, on the counter, were bowls of cookie dough, sprinkles, and icing in every color imaginable.

“We’re going to make Christmas cookies,” she declared. “Each of you will make one for Santa, and one to hang on the tree.”

The children’s faces lit up with excitement, and they eagerly set to work, rolling out dough and cutting it into festive shapes. Benedict joined in, his artistic flair evident in the intricate designs he crafted. Laughter and chatter filled the kitchen as flour dusted the air and icing smudged fingers.

As the cookies baked, filling the house with their delicious aroma, Benedict pulled Y/N into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“This is perfect,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart full. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, watching their children create memories that would last a lifetime. And in that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, a new Bridgerton Christmas tradition was born one that would be cherished for generations to come.

As the evening wore on and the children’s excitement showed no signs of waning, they began clamoring to open their presents. Y/N, now noticeably tired, rubbed her swollen belly and sank into a nearby armchair. She was glowing with the anticipation of their newest family member, but the day’s festivities had taken their toll.

“Mama, can we open our presents now?” one of the children asked, eyes wide with eagerness.

Y/N smiled wearily. “I think it’s time, but I need to sit down for a moment.”

Benedict, noticing her fatigue, quickly stepped in. “All right, everyone. Let’s gather around the tree and open our presents together, but let’s make sure we’re gentle and don’t overwhelm Mama. She needs to rest.”

The children, sensing the importance of their father’s words, nodded solemnly and moved to sit in a semi-circle around the tree. Benedict helped Y/N to a more comfortable position, placing a pillow behind her back and kissing her forehead.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered, her hand resting on her belly.

“Anything for you,” he replied softly.

The children began to unwrap their gifts, their eyes lighting up with each new discovery. Benedict and Y/N watched, their hearts full as they shared glances of mutual adoration and pride. Each child took turns showing off their new treasures, the room filled with exclamations of joy and wonder.

As the last present was opened and the children began to settle down, Y/N felt a wave of contentment wash over her. Benedict wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“This has been a perfect Christmas,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling. “And it’s only going to get better.”

In the glow of the firelight, with their children nestled around them and the promise of new life on the horizon, the Bridgertons embraced the magic of Christmas, cherishing each moment and the traditions they had begun together.

like and comment :)

[yourmomsawh0r3]

A love beyond words

pairing : benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

In the grand ballrooms of London, where every gaze and whisper held a secret, Benedict Bridgerton and his wife, Y/N, were a sight to behold. The two were often the subject of envy and admiration, for their union was one of deep affection and mutual respect something that shone as brightly as the jewels worn by the ladies of the ton.

Y/N, with her warm demeanor and sharp wit, had managed to forge an unlikely yet cherished friendship with none other than Queen Charlotte herself. The Queen, known for her discerning taste and formidable presence, had taken a particular liking to Y/N's spirit. Their conversations, often filled with laughter and a shared love for the arts, had earned Y/N a place in the Queen's favor a rare and precious gift.

One evening, at a ball hosted by the Duchess of Northumberland, Y/N found herself at the center of attention. As she moved gracefully across the floor, her husband, Benedict, watched her with adoration, his heart swelling with pride. He knew, as did everyone else, that his wife was a woman of rare qualities, one who could captivate even the most critical of eyes.

But as the evening wore on, a certain Lady Bellingham, known for her sharp tongue and even sharper jealousy, took it upon herself to speak ill of Y/N. The words, though whispered behind a fan, were meant to wound, and they did not go unnoticed by those who heard them.

“Indeed, it is a wonder that such a commoner has found herself in the good graces of Her Majesty. One must wonder what sort of charm she employs to secure such favor,” Lady Bellingham sneered to her companions, who giggled behind their gloves.

The insult did not reach Y/N’s ears, but it was heard by Benedict, who had been approaching his wife to ask for her next dance. His jaw clenched, and a dark fire lit in his eyes. Benedict Bridgerton was not a man to let any slight against his beloved go unchallenged.

With a calm that belied the storm within him, Benedict approached Lady Bellingham. “My lady,” he began, his voice as smooth as velvet but carrying an unmistakable edge, “It seems you are mistaken. It is not my wife’s charm that has won her the Queen’s favor, but her integrity, intelligence, and grace qualities that I fear you may not recognize, as they are so far removed from your own.”

The air in the ballroom seemed to still as the surrounding guests caught wind of the confrontation. Lady Bellingham flushed with embarrassment, her attempt to retort thwarted by the intensity of Benedict’s gaze.

At that moment, as if fate itself were intervening, the Queen entered the room. The crowd parted for her as she made her way toward Y/N, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and authority.

“Lady Bridgerton,” the Queen addressed Y/N with a warmth that caused whispers to ripple through the crowd, “I trust you are enjoying this evening?”

Y/N curtsied gracefully, her heart fluttering as she met the Queen’s gaze. “Indeed, Your Majesty, it has been a most delightful affair.”

The Queen’s eyes flickered to Lady Bellingham, who stood pale and trembling. “I believe,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of command, “that the company in this room would do well to learn from Lady Bridgerton’s example. She has the qualities that endear her not only to those who know her well but to myself as well. It is a rare woman who can claim such a friendship, and I would advise others to remember that.”

The Queen’s words were like a decree, and Lady Belling As Y/N floated across the ballroom, her grace catching the eye of many, she found herself in conversation with Lady Beresford, a woman known more for her sharp tongue than her charm. The exchange began cordially enough, but soon took a turn as Lady Beresford's remarks became pointed, her words dripping with thinly veiled disdain.

"You must feel quite secure in your position, Mrs. Bridgerton," Lady Beresford sneered, her tone laced with venom. "To think that a mere commoner could rise so high, only by the graces of a hasty marriage."

Y/N, ever composed, met the insult with a calm smile, refusing to be ruffled by the woman's pettiness. "I find that true security lies in the love and respect of one's husband, Lady Beresford," she replied gently, "and in the good fortune of one's friends."

As the words hung in the air, a hush fell over those nearby, who had been pretending not to listen. Benedict, who had been observing the exchange from across the room, felt a surge of protectiveness. He began to make his way toward his wife, but before he could reach her, another figure intervened.

Queen Charlotte, who had been seated on a dais overlooking the festivities, had heard enough. Rising to her feet, she descended the steps with regal poise, the crowd parting in reverence. Her approach was swift, and her gaze fixed on Lady Beresford with an intensity that made the woman pale.

"Lady Beresford," the Queen intoned, her voice cutting through the murmurs, "it seems you have forgotten your place." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "Mrs. Bridgerton is not only the wife of a gentleman of the highest regard but also a dear friend to the Crown. Any slight against her is a slight against me."

The color drained from Lady Beresford's face as she stammered an apology, her previous bravado crumbling under the Queen's steely gaze. "Your Majesty, I-I meant no offense…"

"Then you will do well to remember that," Queen Charlotte replied sharply, her tone leaving no room for further insolence. "Now, begone from my sight."

Lady Beresford curtsied awkwardly, retreating from the ballroom in disgrace, her head bowed low. The gathered guests remained silent, awed by the Queen's swift and decisive action.

As the tension in the room eased, Benedict finally reached Y/N's side. His eyes were filled with admiration and gratitude, both for his wife’s grace under pressure and for the Queen's intervention. Taking Y/N’s hand, he pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles.

"You handled that with remarkable poise," he murmured, his voice low so only she could hear. "But I do hope you know that I would have defended you with equal fervor, had the Queen not acted so swiftly."

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with affection for the man she had chosen as her partner. "I never doubted it, my love. You have always been my greatest protector."

Later that evening, as the festivities came to a close, the couple retired to their chambers. In the privacy of their room, Y/N turned to Benedict, her eyes filled with the depth of her love and gratitude.

"I am truly fortunate to have you by my side, Benedict," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you for always standing up for me, for being my constant source of strength."

Benedict pulled her close, his lips brushing against her temple. "And I am the fortunate one, to have a wife as remarkable as you, my dearest. Your grace and spirit are unmatched."

Thank you for understanding. I’ll continue with an intimate and affectionate scene, focusing on the love and connection between Y/N and Benedict.

As the night deepened and the flickering candlelight cast a warm glow around their chambers, Y/N and Benedict found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms. The events of the evening, particularly the confrontation with Lady Beresford, had left Y/N feeling both grateful and deeply touched by her husband’s unwavering support.

She gazed up at him, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “Benedict,” she whispered softly, her voice carrying all the affection she felt for him, “you always know how to make me feel cherished. I’m so thankful to have you by my side.”

Benedict’s eyes softened as he looked down at her, his love evident in every glance. “And I am thankful for you, my love,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You are my heart, Y/N. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to see you smile.”

Feeling an overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to her, Y/N leaned up to press her lips to his in a tender kiss. Benedict responded with equal passion, his hands cradling her face as their kiss deepened, conveying all the emotions that words could not.

As they parted, Y/N looked at him with a playful glint in her eyes, her lips curving into a smile. “Let me thank you properly,” she murmured, her voice sultry yet filled with love. She slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her hands sliding down his chest as she held his gaze.

Benedict’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he realized her intent. “Y/N…” he began, but the words trailed off as her fingers worked deftly at the buttons of his trousers, her touch sending shivers of anticipation through him.

With a gentle touch, Y/N brought him to full arousal, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. Benedict’s hands threaded through her hair as he watched her, his heart swelling not just with desire but with the profound love he felt for the woman who had become his world.

Y/N took her time, her actions a blend of passion and tenderness, wanting him to feel just how much she appreciated his unwavering support and the love he showed her every day. She moved with a steady rhythm, her eyes never leaving his as she took him deeper, the connection between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

Benedict’s breaths grew ragged, his grip on her tightening as the pleasure built within him. But beyond the physical sensation, it was the intimacy of the act that overwhelmed him the trust, the love, the deep bond they shared. When he finally reached his peak, it was with a groan of her name, his heart full of nothing but love for his wife.

Afterward, Y/N rose to her feet, and Benedict pulled her into his arms, holding her close as they both basked in the afterglow of their shared moment. He kissed her deeply, his lips conveying all the gratitude and love he felt, before leading her to their bed.

As they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Benedict whispered against her ear, “I love you more than words can express, Y/N. You are everything to me.”

“And I love you, Ben” Y/N replied, her voice soft and full of emotion. “Thank you for always being my protector, my partner, and my love.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Masquerade

benedict bridgerton x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Anything. Everything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like and comment thoughts :)

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Quality Time

benedict bridgerton x wife fem reader

The Bridgerton estate was bustling with activity. Preparations were underway for yet another grand event, and the entire household was abuzz with anticipation. Amidst the chaos, Benedict Bridgerton and his wife, Y/N, found moments of solace and connection that seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of the family.

In the drawing room, Y/N was overseeing the final touches on the floral arrangements when Benedict sauntered in, a mischievous glint in his eye. He approached her quietly, standing just close enough to be within whispering distance.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, "you have a talent for making everything around you even more beautiful. Though, nothing could ever match your radiance."

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She turned slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Bridgerton," she whispered back, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Benedict chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down Y/N's spine. He leaned in a fraction closer. "Good to know, Mrs. Bridgerton."

As they exchanged these quiet, intimate words, they remained oblivious to the curious looks of the servants bustling around them. To an outsider, it would seem as though they were merely discussing the arrangements, but anyone who looked closely would see the way their eyes lingered on each other, the subtle touches that spoke volumes.

Later, during the event, the Bridgerton family gathered in the grand hall, welcoming their esteemed guests. Y/N stood by Benedict's side, gracefully greeting each new arrival. Every so often, she would feel his hand lightly brush against hers, a silent reminder of his presence.

Throughout the evening, their eyes met across the room. Each glance was filled with unspoken words, flirtatious and tender. Y/N found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the conversations around her, her mind always drifting back to Benedict and the way he made her feel.

During a brief lull in the festivities, Y/N found herself momentarily alone by the refreshment table. She was inspecting the array of pastries when she felt Benedict's presence beside her. He reached for a small tart, his fingers brushing against hers deliberately.

"I do believe these pastries pale in comparison to your sweetness," he said, his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N bit back a laugh, shaking her head at his audacity. "You, sir, are incorrigible," she replied, her tone light and teasing.

Benedict's eyes twinkled with mischief. "And yet, you love me for it."

"I suppose I do," she admitted, unable to resist the warmth in his gaze.

As the evening wore on, Benedict continued to find opportunities to be near her, to whisper compliments and make her heart flutter with every stolen moment. By the time the last guest had departed and the household began to wind down, Y/N felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

They retired to their private chambers, where the intimacy of the evening reached its peak. As Y/N removed her jewelry and prepared for bed, Benedict approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You were magnificent tonight," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

Y/N leaned back into his embrace, closing her eyes and savoring the closeness. "You make it very hard to focus on anything else, you know."

Benedict chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. "Good. I intend to keep it that way." his fingertips tracing the curve of her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes alight with a mixture of affection and desire. “And you were positively magnetic,” she replied, a playful smile playing on her lips as she leaned into his touch.

Benedict’s hands gently cradled her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of years of shared passion and tenderness. He tasted the sweetness of her lips, savoring each moment as if it were their first.

With a whispered promise, Benedict began to unfasten the delicate clasps of Y/N’s gown, his touch reverent and adoring. The gown slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet in a whisper of silk and lace, leaving her bathed in the soft glow of candlelight that flickered around them.

“You’re more beautiful than the stars,” Benedict murmured against her skin, his hands tracing the curve of her spine, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Benedict’s touch ignited a fire within her, a primal need that only he could quench. She felt herself melting into his embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they embraced the familiar dance of desire and longing.

Their lovemaking was a symphony of whispered confessions and gentle touches, each movement a testament to their deep connection and unspoken promises. Benedict cherished every sigh and whimper that escaped Y/N’s lips, each sound fueling his own desire to please her and make her feel cherished.

In the quiet aftermath, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their hearts beating in sync as they reveled in the warmth and closeness of their love. Benedict brushed a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s forehead, his touch gentle and loving.

“I love you,” Benedict whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that spoke of a lifetime of devotion.

Y/N gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of happiness. “And I love you,” she replied softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as she nestled closer to him.

They drifted into a peaceful sleep, intertwined with each other. the flickering candles casting soft shadows across the room.