#bridgerton crack

[vices-aand-virtues]

Bridgerton + Reductress Headlines (4/?)

[dearestgentlereaders]

the things I would do to get a scene where michaela stirling is flirting with all the bridgerton wives. like I want anthony and benedict realising they have no game compared to her literally none whatsoever. anthony would basically go into cardiac arrest when michaela is able to get the kate bridgerton flustered. colin is just in the corner contemplating suicide when penelope starts blushing cause he thought he was the only one who could make her feel that way.

[fayes-fics]

Innuendo Bingo

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Crack fic. Modern AU. Someone knows a LOT of stupid synonyms for orgasms...

Warnings: Teen and up. Sexual humour, a lot of stupidity. Non-explicit references to sex acts. Basically, I'm sorry.

Word Count: 0.8k

Authors note: Request fill for @sorryallonsy, who asked for Benedict crack fic with him coming up with stupid names for orgasms (ask HERE). I'm sorry this took SO LONG, especially as it is so short. However, I was in the mood to polish off (heheheh) something silly today, and this was just the ticket. Unbetaed cos it's ridiculous. Thanks, and err, enjoy, I guess? <3

Bridgerton family brunch happens once a month and is always memorable. The family usually takes over some swish eatery in central London for a few hours with their unique brand of noisy, chaotic camaraderie. Being Benedict's girlfriend, you are now a part of this melee. It’s one such Sunday when you are finishing your quite delicious but oversized meal that Benedict leans in.

“I can't wait to have you naked again,” he rumbles right in your ear.

You almost spit your last mouthful all over the table. After a few beats, you recover enough to reply.

“Your mother is right there!” you chastise sotto voce, nodding imperceptibly across the table, pulling a pointed expression, even as your mind is filled with images of him waking you up just this morning with his tongue between your thighs.

“Please,” he withers good-naturedly. “I have seven siblings. Do you really think this libido isn't genetic?” he jests, a hand on your knee now. 

“Stop it!” you giggle, not wanting to think of his mother that way.

 “Also, she is not paying us any mind,” he points out, crowding closer. 

Indeed, she is engrossed in a chat with Kate and has one of Daphne’s kids ensconced in her lap, diverting all her attention.

“Besides, are you telling me you don't want to have another orgasm today?” he goads, lips warm on your neck as those fingers spider higher up your thigh, knowing precisely what your weak spots are and exploiting them.

“Well, now… I didn’t say that…” you counter, eyes fluttering closed briefly at his onslaught. “But I might need a few hours after all this food,” you mime a bloated stomach.

It's his turn to chuckle, a warm sound that skitters over your skin. “That's fair,” he assesses. “Can't be releasing the Kraken if you have a food baby…”

You can't help but emit a bark of laughter at that. Everyone at the table looking briefly askance at you before resuming their discussions.

“The what?” you wheeze.

“You heard me,” he quips warmly. “Don't like that? I've got a million more,” he vows, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Don't…” you warn softly, but that just seems to goad him on.

“Making waffles? Popping the weasel…?”

“Waffles?” you frown, “I thought it was whoopee?”

“That too,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in that adorable way as he continues. “Petting the cat? Nulling the void? You can cuff my carrot, and I’ll dial your rotary phone?” each phrase is delivered full of mirth, close to your ear, and you can't help the stupid grin on your face.

“Stop it,” you protest weakly, nudging him gently with your elbow but having to muffle your laughter into his shoulder.

“I’ll stop when you stop finding them funny…” he counters genially. “Marching the penguin? Downstair DJing? Turning on the sprinklers? Debugging the hard drive?”

Each one has you hopelessly sniggering to the point you can't breathe, and little tears form at the corner of your eyes.

“What in God's name are you doing to your girlfriend, Benedict?” Anthony’s voice suddenly rings out from the head of the table. “It looks like she is about to die… hands where I can see them, please!”

Everyone at the table twists to look at you and laughs as both of you instantly raise your hands as if being held hostage; you mortified by the idea everyone thinks you might be up to things in front of them all, even though you know Anthony is joshing. 

But then Benedict murmurs a quiet parting shot out the corner of his mouth. 

“Chastising the family… jewels...”

And yeah, your loud snort is definitely undignified.

—

You are back at his place relaxing on the sofa a few hours later - When Harry Met Sally is playing on the TV - when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Fancy doing a Meg Ryan?” he whispers, his tone laced with levity.

“Bit late for that. We left the restaurant a few hours ago,” you sigh in mock disappointment, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I don't mind a private performance,” he breezes, trailing a hand over your neckline and nuzzling your cheek. “I rather like the idea of watching you paddle your pink canoe….”

Yeah, no, you definitely lose it at that one. 

Collapsing into him, your laughter does not even subsidise when he unzips your dress with his practised skill.

“Please… one ticket to the solo show just for me?” he implores, kissing along your jaw. “Visit that safety deposit box? Orbit Venus? A little double-clicking?”

“You are going to need to stop…” you object faintly, an odd mix of lightness from giggling so much and arousal coursing through you as his fingers circle over your underwear.

“Never…..” he teases in that gravelly tone that always persuades you.

“Fine, but only if I can watch you polish your bannister…” you throw back, pushing off your underwear with a comic flourish.

His laugh is deep and all-consuming, racking his whole frame as he suddenly scoops you up and strides towards his bedroom.

“Deal!”

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa @urfavnoirette

[beastsovrevelation]

Imagine if they

Swapped universes.

Beelzebub now has two daughters, bewildered and uncertain what in tarnation happened to their gentle, lovely mother.

I feel Beelzebub would eventually threaten to disembowel Anthony, if he doesn't marry Kate.

Mary is petrified... At first. She'd soon grow sick of the filth, and make the demons scrub Hell, and themselves, spotless.

Oh, the shock Crowley will get, when he descends, only to find Hell the picture of cleanliness, his coworkers bathed, and the Lord of Flies in pastels.

[apinchofm]

Does Your Mother Know?

For @viscountessevie and @jeanvanjer

Mary Sharma had been a widow for over a decade.

And sometimes that required scratching an itch one could not get on her own and in the stress of wedding planning, one daughter unable to admit she was in love, whilst the other cried on the couch because her fiancée loves her so much, she needed help.

Colin Bridgerton. He was sweet, if not a terrible flirt and a thing for older women. She didn't know why. But it helped her.

She stood up from the bed in the hotel room. He had offered to take her home, given Kate was with Anthony. Instead, they went to a room at a nearby B&B and had a drink. Then another.

"That was amazing." Colin said breathlessly, sitting up. He noticed Mary had dressed,"Where are you going?"

"Home. I've got thank you notes to send on Edwina's behalf and I'm preparing for a complex C-section," She explained.

"Can we, um, do this again?" Colin asked, his eyes wide. He was adorable and fun. And very good in bed.

But he was a child.

"Now, Colin. What would your mother say?" Mary winked, picking up her clutch and leaving the room.

[asmilinghopelessromantic]

#his behavior in season 1 and 2 will haunt this man for the rest of his days#“wait THAT'S why you were weird about Marina and the tomato plants??” “Colin it's 3am”

Do you think Colin wakes up in a cold sweat remembering his interactions with Pen pre season 3 and is just like, "OH MY GOD SHE WAS INTO ME??"

[queenmeriadoc]

Me as a Featherington sibling: So, Colin Bridgerton, are your truly worthy of my sisters affections? Or will I have to kill you?

Penelope Featherington: She is kidding.

Me: I am not.

[spaceorphan18]

A little sunflower joking that a bee might pollenate her.

A little sunflower being pollenated by said bee.

[bitchcakegreen]

Thank you Nicola Coughlan for that scene. To finally see someone with the same body type as me in a scene of love like that, was moving and important. Bridgerton

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[vices-aand-virtues]

Bridgerton + Reductress Headlines (1/?)

[dearestgentlereaders]

she’s the main character of my heart 🤍

[fayes-fics]

Coitus Mahemium

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Crack fic. Sex can result in injury, but you keep going anyway...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, inebriation, vaginal sex, minor injury with blood, substance high, crack content.

Word Count: 0.8k

Author's Note: This is an anon request fill (from HERE) I got during Kinktober but held onto as it's pure crack. I'm dedicating this to a lovely friend, @chaoticcalzoneranchsports, who enjoys a bit of silly crack content as much as I do. <3

“Oh god, this feels so good…” you shudder, dragging yourself up and down in his lap forcefully, climbing towards orgasm.

“Fuck, I know….” he moans in your ear, hands wrapped around your bum cheeks, encouraging your bouncing, the vein in his neck pulsing hard as he, too, skates close to coming.

You didn't even make it off his sofa tonight; you both just tugged off your trousers, perhaps a touch inelegantly in your tipsy state, deciding to ride him right here.

You look down to watch his cock disappear between your legs, and he growls when he realises what you are doing. Unfortunately, the noise he makes has you snapping your head up just as he leans in….  And your noggin smacks hard into his face.

Benedict cries out and collapses back into the sofa cushions, his hands flying up to his face as he hisses.

“Shiiitttt! I'm so sorry!  Are you alright?!?” you fret, stilling your movements, unsure what to do. 

What is the correct etiquette here? Is it impolite for one to climb off a cock mid-fuck? Or is it more impolite to keep going after such a faux pas?

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” he assures, muffled behind his hands cupped over his mouth and nose.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.. please don't stop,” he implores, surging his hips up to indicate he wants you to keep going, even as he doesn’t remove his hands.

You start to move slowly, holding his shoulders, your brow knitted in concern.

“Show me,” you request quietly when his face looks oddly contorted, slowing your moves to a stop.

“Please, please don't stop. I really want this. So much,” Benedict campaigns again, almost whiny.

“I want this too, but…” you reach forward and pull away his hands, shrieking slightly in surprise.

His lip is spilt, and his nose is bleeding, his hands are covered in blood.

“Fuck Benedict! We need to get that seen to! You might need stitches!” you fret and start to climb off.

“No!!” he gruffs, grabbing your hips. “I'm fine, just please, please. We can go to A&E… later,” he pulls you back down onto his cock, still impressively rock hard.

“Later?!” you echo in disbelief.

“Yes, look… fuck I want to come so bad, please…. just please…” he beseeches, pouting in a way that would look adorable, were it not the cause of another pulse of blood to appear.

“Benedict… I can't fuck a bleeding man…” you sigh, even as he attempts to do it himself, rocking his hips.

“Yes, you can!” he cries desperately, “just okay, look, wait….” He twists and reaches to the side table and grabs a box of tissues, quickly stuffing one up each nostril and jamming one between his lips. “There, all better…” he argues, muffled, even as they turn pink. 

“Ben…” he looks utterly ridiculous, and you can't help the tipsy giggle that bubbles up at the absurdity of the situation.

“Ha! See?! You can see the funny side,” he contends, waggling a finger at you even as he rocks into you. You just stare at him with fond exasperation. “Please, y/n, pretty pretty please. I can't go to A&E with an erection and a bloodied face. That will just cause all sorts of questions. I don't want to be a doctor's anecdote. Think about it; you are actually doing me a favour here…” he wheedles, pulling that puppy-dog expression.

He has a point.

You shake your head affectionately, then start to move. He crows triumphantly, and his hands grab your bottom, smearing traces of blood onto your shirt where it hangs low.

“You don't think they will have questions that I have bloody handprints over my bum?” you point out sardonically with a groan, his cock so good, you are already right back to pleasure.

“You have a great arse; they will just assume I grabbed it to deal with the anxiety of my injuries,” he ripostes with panted breath.

“My arse is not a stress toy, Bridgerton!” you dispute, gusting each word as you climb towards ecstasy.

“It's a bloody fantastic one,” he lobbies back cheekily, “quite literally tonight…” he adds drolly, raising a comedic eyebrow.

You can’t help another giggle even as you ride harder, both of you groaning loudly now as you slam onto his cock, both so eager to come.

—

Half an hour later, the triage nurse raises an eyebrow as she clocks the large bloody handprints on the shirt-tails hanging over your bum and the blissed-out look on Benedict’s face. In hindsight, perhaps giving him some leftover codeine you found in his bathroom cabinet before you ordered the taxi to come here was not such a good idea after all. 

He’s now high as a damn kite.

“I use her arse as a stress toy,” he offers sincerely by way of explanation to the nurse, then lolls his head and shoots you a goofy grin.

“Clearly…” she deadpans.

“She’s so lovely; she made sure I didn’t have an erection, too,” he continues, confessional on the mix of alcohol and painkillers.

You slump your head into your hands as he reaches out and pats your shoulder haphazardly.

Yeah… Great way to avoid being an anecdote, Bridgerton.

No taglist as this is goofy silliness.

[ohtendril]

colin & pen + text posts

[crispyliza]

I just realized that early fanfiction sites provided me my first sex education.