#cressida Cowper smut

[hocuspocusbabyy]

Home: Eloise x Cressida. 18+ 🦢🕊️

Warnings: Affairs, outdoor sex, love declarations and cunnilingus.

Description: Eloise and Cressida go hunting.

Parring: Eloise Bridgerton and Cressida Cowper.

'We’re not far from the clearing'' Cressida stated, her riding boots ankle deep in mud. Wading through the woodlands on the outskirts of the estate. Thick branches wove their path blocking the view ahead, allowing no further than three feet of their journey observed. A low hum of creatures leaked through the marsh. Cressida was no stranger to the forest, many of her early years had been spent chasing deer, rabbits and foxes. Her origin.

''Have caution, Cress I beg of you.” Eloise wagered, trolling on behind her friend. She did not ask unnecessary questions, nor provide unwanted aid as so many other hunting companions and for that Cressida had always been grateful.

“Once a hunter, always a hunter.” Cressida mused, cutting away at the vines before her, “however, I will try my best to avoid any close encounters.” The blonde laughed at her own words, her chin flicking back to view her companion. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you Lou.” She winked.

''Always the gentleman.” Eloise complimented, shaking her head slowly as she surveyed their surroundings. A thick smog surged around them, the smell garnered attention. Thick frost encapsulates the ground, snow bunching around their boots as they thimbled through the forest.

The pair walked further into the woods, mud slowly converging into snow.''Whatever possessed you to join me hunting?'' Cressida asked curiously. Her gun flat against her side as she swayed to view the other woman.

''I decided, you were right. I should get out more and explore the world ‘outside of books’, it is an added bonus to have decent company” she admitted, a book stuffed with flower clipping and drawings from their adventures pressed on her chest.

Cressida smirked, ''well, if you are not to curse me, I will be sure to make a habit of telling you things you need to hear.”

‘’Oh how so fond I am of your habits.” The brunette sighed, attempting to strike down a particular stubborn grove of trees with her book.

“Eloise?” Cressida questioned, stepping forward, gently placing an arm in front of the other woman. A hand softly grasping her elbow, travelling along its roots to halt her hand. Eloise’s movements ceased, her chin downcast a strand of hair affecting her eyes.

“I merely wished to spend time with you.” She stated, motioning her head up in an attempt to do away with the irritating sensation. “I do not know what will come of this.” A strong hand coming up to tuck the strand away, found purchase at her face.

To look into those eyes was to teeter on the brink of an abyss.

Cressida strung her thumb against the brunette's flesh, tracing the accent of bone there. Slowly dislodging the book from her companion and striking the mass of foliage down herself with the top of her gun.

“I could have done that.” Eloise argued, her breath slightly laboured.

“I know.” Cressida shrugged, brushing off the book's cover and handing it back, “that does not mean you should have to.”

Eloise shook her head, rolling her eyes in the most unlady-like fashion before stalking ahead knowing full well the blonde would follow.

They walked for what seemed like hours. Finally stumbling upon an groundsman cabin at the edge of the estate. Eloise pushed the old hatch door with surprising force, inviting the blonde in from the cold.

”well hurry up then,” The brunette called out, already making haste towards the fireplace, battling with her corset as she bent down. Small flame whipping up at her hand as she stuck the flint, till a dim light gripped the glass wall of the outhouse.

“I fear I am turning numb” Cressida whispered crouching down beside Eloise, raising her hands up to the other woman. Her fingers stained red by the harsh November air, the slender tips white and frozen to Eloise’s touch as she reached out to squeeze them.

A soft glow cast upon her cheek, the perfectly sharp cheekbones, crescent of her nose… dimples chin.

Something within Cressida seemed to constantly burn, it unnerved her. As incongruous to her true temperature. If Eloise were a moth, she would be her flame.

“Miss Cowper, you’ll freeze surly. How could you withstand such temperatures for so long? Where are your gloves?!” The brunette panicked, rubbing the other woman’s hands firmly between her own. Truly she had been far too occupied with the other parts of Cressida to notice their absence.

“Well my face was already pained by smiling too much, I figured a little frostbite was a small price to pay for a moment longer with you.” Cressida shrugged, her gaze flicking down to watch Eloise cup her hands and blow onto them gently.

“I see.” Eloise mumbled, desperately trying to hide the smirk that threatened to grace her features. Her breath heavy upon the cold winter air, as though smoke, held an oddly comforting sensation for Eloise. Her lips dipping down to kiss the blonde's palms.

“You know if you wanted my attention there are far warmer ways to go about it.

The brunette, hunched down tending the other woman’s hands, gently rolling them between her own as her lips travelled down to her wrists. The smooth flesh resting upon her pulse.

“Eloise.” Cressida gasped as the warm flick of a tongue swept across her veins. “I do crave your attention. However I refuse to humiliate myself by asking for it.”

“Then do not ask.” Eloise whispered, a firm kiss against the blondes palm as she drew back to face her. “Isn’t it about time you did something selfish for once?”

“Eloise.” Cressida whined, her head lulling as the brunette pressed her lips to the tip of her index finger. The rest spread within her firm grip. Flexing beneath her motion.

“Do you feel that?” Eloise mumbled, her mouth working its way across each finger till she reached her thumb.

“A li—little” Cressida gasping as the brunette's teeth sunk into the thenar of her left hand. Tiny indentation littering the web space.

“Just a little?” Eloise teased blowing air upon the space, watching in awe as the skin of the blondes hand lurched beneath. Goosebumps erect and solid as the brunette continued her menstruations upon Cressida’s arm. Cool to the touch and all the more delicious to the tip of her tongue. “And now.”

“It is the strangest sensation.” Cressida breathed, the ability to decipher the sentiment lost. How was one to describe something so pleasant? As though untroubled light, quintessential and affable.

“Would you prefer I stop?” Eloise asked, pulling back to gaze at the other woman. Her fringe muses and feathered against her face, a frame that ought to be ornate as to house such striking features. Her cheeks robust and thick with tint, the blondes hands rose to brush across them. First with the backs of her fingers the cool touch causing the shorter woman to shiver. Her knuckles pulled in lightly at her flesh, a sickening motive of possession gripped Cressida as she turned her palms towards the other woman’s face.

The pads of her thumbs wiping beneath the Bridgerton girl's face, pulling at her burning cheeks till her fingers curled and settled beneath her jaw.

“It should be immoral to look as you do.” The blonde complimented, an awe stuck expression grazing her face. “Every motion, a transgression I cannot help but chase.”

Cressida's face fell forward, the crisp touch of her nose brushing against Eloise’s own. Clouds of cold breath lingering around them as they simply coexisted. The warmth of the others breath hot against their face.

“Do you wish to unknow me?” Eloise asked after a moment, her lips so close to the other woman’s that they touched as she spoke.

“I do not know you.” Her chest was tight, her fingers mapping the contours of Eloise’s back. Counting each notch of spine below her bodice, as water circling a drain. Washing her away.

“You know me better than anyone ever has.” Eloise argued, her mouth pressed upon the underside of Cressida’s jaw.

They did not understand it, this desire to consume another. Be devoured in return. obtain the scars as proof they were paying for the sins committed. If loving Eloise were a sin, Cressida would happily wear her sacrilege.

Eloise bit her. A growing heat upon her neck as the brunette dove into her, sucking until the flesh burst and coloured beneath her tongue.

“My greatest honour.” The blonde promised, extending her neck to the other woman. Her back pressed girly against the frosty glass as Eloise worked to mark her. The conflicting messages of November air upon her neck and Eloise’s tongue etching language into her flesh. Cressida felt as though every word she had ever uttered were meaningless in comparison to the words which she felt when Eloise spoke again.

“You smell of something floral. I could not tell you how many nights I have spent in these very gardens trying to replicate this scent.”

“And what did you find?” Cressida asked her hand raising to grasp the other woman’s neck, fingers tangled, tethered to the soft tissue. Her nails lingered up across the dip in her dress, before slipping beneath. Her palm cold against the burning flesh of Eloise’s shoulders.

“Nothing of interest.” Eloise deadpanned, her kisses becoming lethargic and long upon her neck. Her fingers racing to play with the thrills of Cressida’s dress. “I doubt I’d ever be able to replicate something so purely built of you.”

The blonde couldn’t help but grin at those words, a smooth warmth spreading throughout her body. She knew my story before I even knew how to tell it. As though she’d seen a map Cressida had no hand in making, intended footpaths, passed by and new trails formed for only her.

Whatever it were in this world that binds us all… dust, blood, consciousness, they are of a similar thread. Different species of trees planted side by side… Eloise is the one she’d choose the fruit off.

Eloise found herself willing to share that part with her, just as Cressida must share those parts of her. Their last thought at night, she were the first of the day. Left to linger in one another’s personhood. Eloise read Cressida as though she had been blank on every page, just waiting to be deciphered, filled and known.

“Eloise.” Cressida whispered, her hands trailing across the span of her shoulder blade. Gripping harshly as the sensation of teeth ran along her clavicle.

“Forgive me, I forget myself.” Eloise breathed, looking up but never stepping back. Her hands reaching up touch Cressida’s face, “Are you feeling any warmer dear?” She whispered, turning her palms away to graze the blushing with her knuckles.

“Substantially.” The blonde laughed gently, her own hands tracing along the length of Eloise’s arms. Fingernails dragging up towards her jaw line, as though tracing her likeness.

The brunette was turned to blush, a mirror to her companion as they both simply allowed to explore one another. Finger tips to earlobes, thumbs up on knees, lips against chests. Eloise’s hands trailed up the blondes back before tearing down at the garment. Pulling it from her flesh. Eloise, even now staring upon the other woman’s bare chest, she could only yearn for more.

“This space here.” The brunette started pulling the other woman’s attention to her fossa, Eloise’s thumb applying gentle pressure to the notch. “I love this place, I cannot for the life of me rem—what is it called?” She asked her fingers trailing lightly to her sternum in awe, “I claim this.”

“I thought we were against ownership?” Cressida breathed. Baring her teeth to the bridgerton girl in a soft smile, sedated by the bit of her lip. Something cunning to her disposition.

“Sometimes it pays to be selfish.” Eloise whispers against her throat before drawing a line across each notch with her tongue. Breaking out into a smile as the blonde shared her laughter. Her bare chest still pressed into the brunette’s cloak.

“Wait—wait, turn over.” The blonde starts, directing her lover to turn, “I wish to see you.” Cressida offers, her fingers pulling gently at the ties, till Eloise was freed of her confinements. “This.” She demanded pushing the final thread from the other woman’s body and tapping at the birthmark just below her waist. Browned skin no bigger than her thumb. “This is mine.”

Eloise glanced down, the alpine of her skin foreign to her with Cressida’s hands upon it.

“I stand bare before you and you stake claim to measly imperfection.” Eloise laughed, her hands waving lovingly between strangers of Cressida’s hair pushing it back, the blonde lowering to her knees.

Her lips chasing eager kisses with rushed breath. Reaching for any piece of skin available to her. Her teeth bumped along the edge of the brunette's hip, tongue curling across the joining of her ribs.

“There is no part of me that does not worship you.” Cressida declared her eyes flicking up to watch the brunette. Her face suddenly became so much closer as she reached down and grasped the back of her, pulling them each half way.

Their lips are harsh, brazen and lethargic across each other. Cressida’s tongue swirled upon her own as Eloise gasped and shook against her.

“When were you most happy?” Eloise asked between kisses.

“Now.” Cressida grins pecking at the other woman’s

cheek. The brunette fumbled with her own pleasure and she pondered her new question.

“When were you least happy?”

“Now.” The answer came again, thick against her lips.

“What do you love?” Eloise asked again, her lips trailing along the span of Cressida's neck, littering her chest and finally ghosting along her nipple. “Say everything.”

“Let’s see.” The blonde mumbled almost unsure of herself, “grass, fields with horses in them. Swans. I love Swans.”

“What else?” Eloise begged her knees firm against the hard wooden floor.

“Marmalade. I'm addicted. Baths, though not with other people.” The blonde jokes, relishing in the motion of the other woman blushing against her leg. “Shopping.” She continued a shudder as the brunette's tongue licked at the apex of her thigh. A beat of silence “Your handwriting.”

“Cress” She whispered the warm air welcome against Cressida’s heat.

“Christ Eloise, do you not want me?”Before finally the other woman sucked her clit forward. Feverish, febrile and hysterical. Eager to draw out the many sounds of Miss Cowper.

TBC.

[justbeingayhere]

In Her Arms

summary: After the season and back in the country side Eloise and Cressida spend some time together in the garden (smut)

{read it here}

[lilyofthevolume]

Buckle up, Buttercups. We have some plot arcs to resolve.

[shelbgrey]

Dating Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader

Summary: headcanons about courting and marrying Benedict Bridgerton -SMUT warning

💙MasterList ML2 💙Dating MoodBoard

Every Bridgerton’s love story seems to have some sorta trope attached to it. Anthony and Kate have the pleasure of absolutely owning the enemies to lovers, Daphne and Simon successfully fooled the town with their fake courting, and of course the lovely friends to lovers story that evolved between Penelope and Colin.

But when it comes to Benedict and you it just depends on who you ask. Anthony who you have the pleasure to call your best friend says it's the longest slow burn in history or if you ask Kate or violet they will say with everything they believe in that you and Benedict are soul mates.

Growing up and into adulthood the two of you were practically attached to the hip

You've known the bridgertons since you were about ten. You were getting pushed around and picked on by a couple of kids that were older. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin just happened to see it and started throwing rocks at the bullies.

You've been best friends ever since, but you've always had this connection with Benedict.

You are part of the family, there's no doubt about that. Your mother died while giving birth and your father was always gone. The Bridgertons became your family and you a sepical connect with them that outsiders just don't seem to understand.

“wow, your always around them and not one of those men have corted you... Oh I get it, your the Bridgerton’s pet” - Cressida Cowper

Anthony was your first kiss. It didn't mean anything, you just wanted to know how to kiss and Anthony was close enough with you that he could do it and not catch romantic feelings. No one else knows but you guys.

Later on Benedict did find out. “So, you kissed my wife and never givin a thought to tell me?” he wasn't angry since it was way before you and him courted. “we were 13 and she didn't know how to kiss, I was doing her a favor”

Into adult hood Anthony was rooting for you two the most. There was a point he was getting tired of the 'slow burn' as he calls it.

He told Anthony this. “What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict couldn't help but admire you from acrossed the ball room as the words vomited out of his mouth. Even back then he knew those words were about you.

The first time Anthony sees you cry because of Benedict he waists no time talking some since into him. The first time you and Benedict ever kissed was after you found out he quit the art academy. After the kiss Benedict was feeling so many emotions he wasn't prepared for or knew how to handle, he apologized for 'disrespecting your honor' and left. “I kissed Benedict” you told Anthony because he was your safe space.

Anthony spit his wine out in suprise. “and I don't think it mattered one bit to him” after Anthony heard that he went to talk to benedict. Anthony was angry at him for hurting you but at the same time he wanted to help out his little brother and best friend the best he could. “mother told me once it's unthinkable to find someone so special, someone you love”

“I hurt her” Benedict said, shaking his head. Anthony sighed. “real true love is worth it, do not lose her dammit”

But unfortunately you two didn't become official untill the Polin era. During those few months you avoided Benedict and the family knew something was wrong when your arm would be linked to Colin's and not Benedict's during family walk or gatherings. Colin was oh, so confused when he comes back from his travels and finds out Elois isn't talking to Penelope and your not talking to Benedict.

“what? I can't be happy to see you? You've been go for months” you told Colin as you both walked together instead of you walking with Benedict.

You found out about what he was doing all season and the three way an blew up. That's when benedict confessed everything he's ever felt for you. “I never cared for love or maybe I just didn't want it... That was until I met you. I love everything about you. Your compassion, your stubbornness, the way your eyes sparkle. You filled a part of my soul I didn't even relize was empty, you healed me when I didn't even know I needed it. And believe me when I say I loved you the moment we met, I don't care if we were just kids. I love you”

When you got married Anthony walked you down the isle. “I intend to walk all my sisters down the isle”

Anthony and Eloise definitely cheered the loudest at your wedding.

You rarely call him Benedict, it's always my Love, Ben, Benny. He knows he's in trouble or something is wrong when you call him Benedict.

He doesn't care that you're not as prim and proper as most women. He loves the fact you want to fence with him and his brothers or the fact you'd turn your dresses in skirts and wear his brother white shirts that were hand-me-downs.

His love language has always been physical touch even when you guys were clueless to your feelings. He always needs his arm linked with yours or his hand on your hip.

You're the most beautifulest thing he's ever seen and he wants you to know that. He has always been smitten by you.

Before you were together he was always thinking about you, rather he was having sex with another person or touching himself.

He always wants to sketch you or paint a portrait, he probably has a whole sketchbook of just you in different positions and situations, both innocent and not.

You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration when he works on his art, he looks so handsome just standing there working.

you feel closest to him when you're modeling almost completely nude and he's painting. No matter what you're doing you always feel so comfortable around him and you both share a connection beyond words and meanings.

He loves dancing with you, the best thing for him is to take you somewhere private and just have a dance with just the two of you.

Forehead kisses. He is so much taller than you it's just easier in the moment, but it's also just a sweet innocent thing that's a staple in your relationship.

He loves receiving them too. Like if he's sitting on his stool in front of a canvas painting, he'll definitely accept a kiss on the forehead from you.

Speaking of canvases and paint, you've both definitely covered your skin in paint and had sex on a large canvas and made an abstract piece of art. And Benedict will hang it up in your bedroom or his art studio.

Fighting over macaroons all the time beacuse you both like the same ones. But if you're having a bad day or it's that time of the month he'll bring a whole box for you.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

This man needs physical contact a lot. He's a big cuddler and just needs you in his arms, it's a comfort and a protection thing.

“Darling, I would love it if you cuddle me” he said, giving you puppy eyes and holding his arms open. You smiled and cuddled up to his chest.

Like I said, he needs contact with you. He loves little and big acts of psycial contact. Like he loves if you stand infront of him and fix the collar of his coat or rest your hand on his thigh during dinner.

He's so flirty with you. No matter how many years you've been together, he still thinks you're the sexiest, most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, blushing.

“because you're beautiful”

The way he kisses you makes your heart race. He holds your face in his hands and you honestly feel like you and him are the only things that matter in the world.

He is your biggest supporter. Benedict is your absolute number #1 fan, everything you do amazes him. You've never had a man supporting and encouraging you every day and night.

Whatever you want to do in life he'll be there and have your back. “You are my muse, Darling. And I am forever grateful for you”

He'll think it's adorable if you're a book worm and will always bring home new books for you If he sees them. Sometimes the both of you will sit on the couch in comfortable silence for hours together while you read and he sketches.

Benedict is usually if not always very playful and relaxed, but he also has a protective side. If you're hurt or disrespected a fire will ignight and you will see a side of Benedict that's scary.

Like i said before, you never cared to meet society's expections when it comes to activities and clothes. Of course when you go out to balls, parties, and races you dress properly but there's always a hint of your own style that goes against the 'normal'. Stealing Benedict's top hat is great example. If your borde at the races or just want to wear it, you'll take it and put it on your head.

Benedict and Anthony also tought you how to fence, it's one of your favorite things to do with your boys.

Later in marriage you'd have four kids. Atticus, Charlotte, then boy/girl twins named Eloit and Violet.

Charlotte inherited her father's artistic abilities and Benedict has kept every scribble and every finger painting she's made.

He leaves little notes and sketches all around the house for you. You find them everywhere. In your bag, the book you're reading at the time. On top of your pillow. Stuck onto the mirror in the bathroom. He loves those little details. Loves to write you silly or romantic notes because he knows how much you love them.

Your Favorite one he ever wrote was, 'If I were to kiss you and then go to hell I would, so then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without even entering it.'

Like I said from the beginning, he believes you are his soul mate. There's just this unconditional connection between the two of you no one can explain.

If your in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather your the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He absolutely loves feeling your fingers run through his hair. He'll kill to have his head on your cheat while you play with his hair after a long night of dancing.

He's soft with you. He's so gentle and delicate and you can tell through the way he brushes your hair from your face or the way he nuzzles his face into your neck that he just absolutely adores you.

If you're in bed he'll always have his arms around you. Rather you're the little spoon or your on his chest. But sometimes if his day is rough he'd want to lay his head on your chest. His favorite feeling in the world is your arms around him and your fingers running through his hair.

He can be a rough kisser, but mostly he's a passionate kisser. He pours all his love and emotions into it, he makes sure you're the only one on this earth he wants to love.

NSFW headcanons:

If he's had a rough day, he either needs one of two things. A rough fuck or he needs to curl up beside you and rest his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He's a boob man, He’ll push your bra up and take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls all around while he squeezes your hips.

He'll bury his face into your boobs as he pounds into you. He loves it when you start moaning and tugging at his hair, He honestly can’t get enough.

Hair pulling, he loves feeling your fingers in his hair or he'll tangel his fingers in yours and tug on it when he's getting head or about ready to cum.

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

He's very skilled with his tounge, he loves eating you out. your legs around his head. He loves your legs in general and loves leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He'd rather pleasure you for hours than receive.

bitting your neck just to hear you moan. When you finally give in to him, he'll lay you down on the couch or bed and start pealing your clothes off to reveal your chest.

You guys are very adventurous in the bedroom. You both have definitely gotten messy with paint before.

One time you both got covered in paint and made love on top of a giant canvas. It made an abstract art that he framed and hung it up in his art studio.

If you come into his studio to tease him it'll usually end with you on top of his desk and smear paint across your cheek as your lips move in a heated rethem.

He'll leave trails of red down your body as he does so. “There's my little work of art, all messy and perfect” He murmured against your lips.

Speaking of which, he refuses to refer sex as 'fucking', he thinks is degrading towrds you so it's just sex or 'making love' in his vocabulary.

He definitely has a Praise kink, he loves making you feel loved and appreciated. He loves how he can easily make you blush. “you're so Beautiful”

“Mmm, you taste so damn sweet” He moans as he continues to pleasure you, his tongue teasing your clit. His hands move to your hips, holding onto them tightly as he devours you.

Even though he's the dominant person in bed he wants to know you have equal control too, if you don't like how rough or fast he's going he'll stop and check on you and make sure you're okay. All he cares about is your pleasure.

“You want it harder, Darling?” He'll comply with her request, thrusting deeper and faster, causing the bed to shake with your movements. He let out a low groan as he felt your nails dig into his back.

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

Benedict also loves watching your face while you bounce up and down his dick. He loves the expressions you make when he thrusts up into you when you least expect it. “I can't get enough of you, Darling”

If your lips are wrapped around him, he's taking control. It's usually rough, but he'll never do anything to hurt you.

He'll move his hips fast, thrusting himself deeper down your throat, the way you suck him drives him insane “Darling, you're doing so good”

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

Benedict is so vocal, he'll let out deep groans and moans as he feels your tight pussy wrap around his cock when you ride him. “Stay with me, y/n... Fuck me back”

Posing naked for him while he sketches you. One time you both sat infront of a mirror, you between his legs with your thighs spread while he used the mirror to sketch you both.

He'll always bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting as he rides his orgasm out. He'll keep bucking his hips into yours until you're both spent. “Christ you're beautiful...”

his voice is like a siren call, pulling you into the depth of pleasure. His hands moving to your hips, holding you steady as he praises you and drowns you in pleasure.

He can't get enough of your reactions, his eyes always burning with intensity as he takes in the sight of you laying under him, bare and utterly captivating.

One of his biggest kink is cumming inside you, seeing you filled up just makes him go crazy.

He has a thing about cumming on your breasts too. He'll watche in awe as his cum drips down your chest, marking you as his. He'll look at you with so much satisfaction and desire. “You look so beautiful like this”

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

He's very attentive when it comes to aftercare. you want a warm bath? Done. You want massages? Done. You ask, he delivers. All he cares about is your comfort, he insists on cleaning up any mess that's on you or the bed. If he sees any marks or bruises he will apologize for that with a soft smile on his face.“That's a good girl. Just relax and catch your breath, I've got you.”

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

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 4.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes)

Warnings for this part: smut

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The cloak wrapped around you felt like velvet. The softness between your fingers calmed you down significantly. Reynolds grabbed your hand after the fifth time you balled it up in your skirts. You looked up to see your three valets trying to hide the concern on their faces. You could have an incident or get caught or both. None of those three options were ideal or even good. 

“Do I look decent?” you asked as the carriage got closer and closer to the party. 

“You look perfect.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t wear the mask?” 

“You don’t have to but keep it on you.” 

You agreed, exiting the carriage with a letter from the princess version of you — complete with a wax seal — that was basically a pass to enter any establishment no matter what. Spotting Penelope and Colin out of the corner of your eye, you breathed out a sigh of relief and ran over to them. Both of them wore wide smiles at your surprise arrival. They had been expecting a letter or something to signal your arrival back from Ireland. 

You were sad to hear about Marina not joining you all for this evening. It would have been nice to know her more than a little bit in between the courting of suitors. But there would be more times to meet and catch up later. Plus, hearing your friends’ stories of their daily lives proved to be a good enough distraction. You let them go after a while so Colin could escort Penelope to the dance floor like he promised to do after a run in with Cressida Cowper. 

Looking around, you failed to immediately locate the rest of the Bridgerton children. You grabbed a drink from the lemonade table and began to wander. The alcohol had looked appealing but you had never drank, afraid of the consequences if drink mixed with your illness. Someday you’d try some but not after an episode. Never right after one. 

On the outskirts of the party, still close enough to hear the music, you ran into Benedict. He gave you a smile and the same surprised look on his face as Penelope and Colin. You leaned in closer to hear him over the deafening melodies of the orchestra. Small talk that was mainly about your fictitious trip made up the first half of your conversation. After a while, you grew comfortable with each other as if you never left. 

“The lights are beautiful,” he commented, staring at the small lantern display that a scientist presented. 

You nodded. “We have some at the palace. They add more day by day but it would be nice if all of London, maybe all of the world, had these little lights. How has your art been?” 

“Not terribly well. Nothing seems to be good enough.” 

“Well, what are you drawing?” 

“Still life. I can’t expect my free drawings to be good if I can’t depict what is right in front of me.” 

“You are too hard on yourself, Benedict seriously,” you argued when he scoffed. “Sometimes we have a problem seeing our own greatness. You ju—” 

“Would you ever consider marriage to someone, me, perhaps?” 

You choked on your lemonade. “Pardon?” 

“Apologies.” He finally turned to look at you. “With Daphne out in society, people have started looking at Anthony and because my dear brother does not care to at least pretend to be a proper viscount, they have started to look at me. Ravenous mamas are eyeing me and it must be a matter of time before they talk to me.” 

You laughed. “You still call me Miss Beckett yet you want me to help you through a marriage?” 

“Wait, what is your name, actually? If you are to continue being a friend of the family then I am at liberty to refer to you by first name.” 

“Bergamot. My parents were a bit too keen on gardens. My second name is Sophie.” 

“Bergamot Sophie Beckett. That is a lovely name.” 

“Thank you… I still won’t marry you.”

Benedict scrunched up his face as he bent over to try and plead with you. “Please! I can’t be out here with the wolves.” 

You patted him on the shoulder. “Your whining, no matter how pathetic and cute, will not work. I will see you tomorrow, alright.” 

He muttered something that you didn’t hear while you took off into the gardens for a stroll. You’d have to leave soon, pressing your luck wasn’t the way to go. You put your cloak back on and closed it to hide your dress completely as you finally put your mask on. The gardens at night were very beautiful. Perhaps because you were alone. 

You chuckled at the thought of your interaction with Benedict. Even if it happened only a few moments ago, it was hysterical. It was only funnier because you were sure that when you finally introduced yourself to society, you’d get even stranger proposals. Only they wouldn’t be to avoid hungry mamas. And they wouldn’t be coming from one of your friends. 

Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too upset with you. Hyacinth would never but she was more like a little sister than a friend. Benedict would think the whole situation is funny, hopefully. Daphne might as well. Eloise and Penelope could go either way. Anthony would probably be mad that you let him attempt to woo the princess when you knew the truth which would make Colin and Gregory and Francesca mad at you as well. But maybe it would be fine after you explained everything. 

The sound of voices caught your attention. Spying was wrong but you couldn’t help yourself. You started to walk into the hedges, ignoring the twigs catching everywhere. The view wasn’t the best but you could see well enough. What could be a scandal between Daphne Bridgerton and Nigel Berbrooke seemed to be a very different scene to you because you knew the man from her letters. You tightened the mask around you just in case you needed to leave the bushes. 

Nigel kept coming close to Daphne. You began to run when he grabbed her, thinking of how to protect your friend. You’d have to hit him. That was the only option. There was nothing else you could do about it… You paused as Daphne pulled her hand back. There was Nigel Berbrooke on the ground. After being punched. 

You and Daphne looked up from Nigel to see the Duke of Hastings running into the garden clearing as well. The two of them seemed to realize that you were the princess and you were in the garden with them having witnessed everything. They bowed to you deeply, something you returned. 

“I will survey the area. If I do not return then you two may safely leave the garden.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

“It is no trouble really. I am so sorry for your distress, Miss Bridgerton, and I do hope your hand feels better in the morning.”  

You did a thorough check of the area to make sure that Daphne wasn’t compromised before fleeing to your carriage before anyone could spot the mask. Assuring your valets nothing went wrong, you closed the carriage door and let it drive back to Kew. 

“Thank you,” you said as you took off your mask and cloak and opened the carriage window since it was night. 

“For what?” 

“For making me go out tonight. I did need it. I feel better, immensely.” 

“That is good. We are glad to hear it. Will you be going out again tomorrow?” 

“Just to the Bridgertons.” 

“Oh, to home then.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue because they were right. Being at the Bridgertons felt like home more than your own at times. Maybe because your mother and father were the only ones who even tried to be a proper family. But there was no trying with the Bridgertons. They just were family. 

That much was true when you walked into the house a lot later than the early morning to see everyone but Eloise in the drawing room, talking about Daphne and the Duke. You said hello, greeted by hugs from everyone who didn’t see you yesterday. You took the plate of toast from Violet, who was trying to get her daughter to eat, and shoved the bread under Daphne’s nose. She took a bite before actually grabbing it from you. Relieved of your mother bird duties, you plopped down on the couch in between Benedict and Colin. 

“What are your plans for today?” 

“Fencing and then a gentlemen’s club and then preparing for a party tomorrow and, dreadfully, a picnic the next day,” Colin said as he handed you a chocolate from the box on the side table. 

“May I watch?” 

“Of course, Sophie. A beautiful lady will only encourage us.” 

“Since when did you learn to be a flirt?” 

He just shrugged, sitting back to listen to Daphne play the pianoforte and tease her about the duke. You clapped at the end of her piece and requested a second one that she obliged. Daphne would have to play at the palace some time or at least at Kew. She sounded lovely. Closing your eyes, you just listened for a moment. 

“How does a lady come to be with child?” 

Your eyes flew open to see Eloise standing in front of everyone. Violet jumped up from her brief moment of sitting on the couch across from you. 

“Eloise, what a question!” 

“I thought marriage was a requirement.” 

Daphne tilted her head. “What?” 

“Apparently, it’s not even a requirement.” 

“Eloise.” 

“Mama, the princess did say all young women nearing their debut should learn.” 

Violet stuttered as she took the tray of food out of the room, forcing Hyacinth and Gregory to go with her, stating she’d be back in a moment she just needed some water. She turned back for a moment. 

“Daphne, dear, do go on. I’d like to hear some calming music when we return.” 

Eloise trudged over to the couch, sitting on the other side of Benedict. She smacked her brothers’ knees but neither one of them wanted to answer her directly. Colin turned his head. 

“Have you ever visited a farm, El?” 

You laughed as Benedict smacked the back of Colin’s head but stopped when Eloise slumped down in her seat. You tapped her on the shoulder, making her perk up again. Your hand rested on Benedict’s thigh so you could prop yourself up as you leaned over him.

Covering your mouth and Eloise’s ear, you began whispering to your friend everything you thought she needed to know about sex. Unable to help himself, Benedict leaned in to spy, surprised that your information was actually correct. You weren’t lying, the Princess’ court really taught all the valets everything. Eloise sat back, finally satisfied and a lot less worried about a spontaneous pregnancy. Until she became curious again. 

“But why would anyone want to initiate it? Who wants to be with child?” 

You leaned over once again. “No one wants to be with child. Even those who want children. It’s about the pleasure. Sometimes the pleasure of actually liking someone and other times the pleasure being about nothing but you.” 

“What?” 

“The… think about when you start breathing a bit heavier, feeling warm when you touch each other, a… I’ll tell you the rest when your brothers aren’t here. It is a bit awkward. Oh, I’ll even draw you pictures. Only a certain amount of posit— mov— steps are important. The rest you should figure out with your husband.” 

“So you do truly know what you’re talking about?” Benedict interrupted the nearly finished meeting. 

“Did you doubt me?” 

“A bit,” he admitted. 

You sat back down. “Men aren’t the only ones that know what they are talking about.” 

“Sorry to offend.” 

“No offense. None at all. I expect even the kindest and smartest and prudest of men to think such things.” 

“Well, I am still sorry. If not because of offense then because of my ignorance.”

You squeezed his thigh in appreciation. Benedict laid his hand on top of yours. The two of you stayed like that for a moment until his hand held onto yours a bit tighter. He turned to look at you. There was an understanding shared between your eyes. There was no breathing heavy or loving eyes. It was for both of you but in purely selfish pleasurable ways. 

“Sophie, are you coming to watch our fencing match?” Benedict asked.

“Yes.” At that he moved your hand closer to his private. “A bit after the calling hour starts. I like to watch the men make fools of themselves.” 

“I am not surprised by that at all. Shall we wait for you?” 

You closed the gap and placed your hand over the top of Benedict’s pants. “No. You may start without me and I’ll just come when I find the time.” 

“Okay. We’ll play again soon, maybe even another game today. So don’t be too bothered if you miss us playing for your calling hour.” 

Giving an experimental squeeze, you watched the man next to you nod ever so slightly and swallow his spit before moving your hand himself. You both relaxed into the couch completely, satisfied with your understanding. The two men left when Violet came back — it was fairly obvious that calling hour was about to start. The calling hour was several hours but at some point you had just dropped the s and you weren’t sure why. 

You thought it would be only one or two men but the duke seemed to have lit a fire under the other men’s feet. The line became rather long rather quickly. You were happy for Daphne. The more men the better. Maybe she could get a love match.

You took the last bouquet of flowers for Daphne, thanked Lord Colfield, and went to go put the flowers in a vase on the fireplace mantle. You were about to tell Daphne that you were leaving to see her brothers’ fencing match when Anthony came storming in. A gasp escaped you when Nigel Berbrooke came up behind. You were completely over this little man and his obsession. 

Without thinking, you approached Anthony. “What do you think you ar— Anthony, you and Nigel need to either leave the drawing room as this is your sister’s calling hour or wait in line if he is here to call? These lords and gentlemen have waited a great deal to talk to her and they are very patient. It is not right nor just nor of any class to disrespect the patience they have shown.” 

“Nigel?” Berbrooke scoffed. “Who do think yo—” 

“The Young Princess’ valet. She’s become a family friend,” Anthony cut Nigel off. 

At least Berbrooke had the decency to be surprised and then give you a bow. Their tunes towards you changed completely as they almost looked like they were going to wait their turn or just leave. Nigel smiled. 

“Callers were unexpected as we have already been talking extensively.” 

“Lord Berbrooke is the only man who proposed and therefore the only person I consider.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You looked at Anthony.

“He is the on—” 

“Everyone! I am very sorry but you must leave. Miss Bridgerton’s calling hour is currently closed. Please leave your name with Heroldt, starting with the order you have been waiting, and two days from now we will continue.” You turned to Anthony as everyone filed out without complaint since they thought the princess was the reason for calling hour being over. “There. Now, Lord Berbrooke, I must speak with the Bridgertons alone. I hope that speech staved off the wolves for you if only for two days while matters are discussed.” 

“Thank you, Lady…” 

“Miss Beckett,” Anthony answered. “Thank you, Sophie. Lord Berbrooke, do you need me to escort you?” 

“No, no. You have business. I can find the front door on my own.” 

The moment he left, you, Daphne, and Violet descended on Anthony. Every word that came out of Anthony’s mouth made you scoff. Violet looked between all three of you, very upset. Anthony was ruining both Daphne’s prospects as well as his own prospects with the princess. And you were there to witness it all.

You backed Daphne on everything. Even if she was wrong, Nigel was a foul man that you would never allow to marry. You approached Anthony, speaking lowly although your friend and her mother could still hear it. 

“I hope you survive whatever poison you are drinking. Whether the Duke is a serious man or not, there are plenty of serious men here. You will not sign away your sister to such a foul man that you barely know as well and pretend it is in her best interest. And you will not expect her to be understanding or appreciative when you don’t care an ounce for your sister’s happiness. And you still wish to draw up a marriage contract? Please, just think for a moment… Good day, Viscount Bridgerton.” 

You stormed out of the drawing room and straight into the backyard where Colin and Benedict were handing their fencing gear back to a servant. They noticed the furrow in your brow. Benedict clicked his tongue. 

“I will find out what is wrong. You, brother, instruct the kitchen to leave something out for us. If there is crying then we will be long.” 

Benedict practically dragged you to the far side of the backyard. He knew no one would think anything of it when you were very angry about something Anthony did — that part was loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked at you when the two of you finally stopped. 

“Was that a ploy to get away? Or are you genuinely mad at my brother?” 

“I don’t want to talk about why I’m mad at Anthony. There’s nothing you can do anyway. Not without a good scandal… Sorry, I came out here for a fencing match. Let us focus on it. On you.” 

He took your hand again, placing it over his trousers. You began to rub it back and forth, the fabric between you guys creating friction. You reached into his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit more freely. Benedict pulled you closer. His hand reached around your ass to squeeze it.

Every time you stroked him closer to finishing he would squeeze harder than before. You watched his face the entire time. If you got back exactly what you were giving him then you would be a very happy woman. It was truly going to be about selfish pleasure for both of you. 

You gasped when he all but ripped the top part of the dress as he tried to push it all down to expose your breasts. He wanted something else to stare at that would get him off even quicker. You tried to stifle any moans threatening to escape your lips as he groped you — some of the marks so hard you were sure they would be a bit red until tomorrow. This was his turn. Yours would be later. If you both tried to get pleasure at the same time... Well, that's how people fall in love. The two of you weren't stupid to test that.

Benedict moaned and for a moment both of you were worried someone would come see what was the matter. He laughed underneath your hand covering his mouth. 

A shudder went through him and he grabbed your wrist. “I’m going to come. I-if you let g-go… just in m-my britches.” 

You dropped to your knees, shocking your friend. He grabbed your head with one hand while he bit down on the other until he finished. A very gentle touch lifted you up. He wiped stray bits of lipstick from around your mouth, wiping the evidence away on the inside of his vest. 

“I have to say I did not expect you to sit down for the last round of fencing. We were done anyway.” 

“Well, I wanted to help put up the equipment so we could all relax later. Plus, if the princess does choose to invite you all to Kew then I would like you to help put up the equipment there too.” 

Benedict laughed. 

“I promise whether I win or lose. The next time we have a round of fencing, I will put up the equipment. All of it.”

He leaned down to whisper.

“Even if you are not a lover, I would never have you on the ground, sullying your pretty gowns and body..." He squeezed your breasts one last time before helping pull your dress back up. "with grass and dirt stains. I promise I’ll bring you your pleasure next time we are inside and alone. I will leave first and retire to my room. You stay out here and eat the sandwiches the cook left. I won’t be able to return for at least an hour.” 

“Okay. I have to go see the Featheringtons and Miss Thompson anyway.” 

You did just as Benedict suggested and no one even gave you a suspicious look. You took your own sweet time going across the street. You had moved the physician and all of Wednesdays special tutors to Tuesdays so you would have more time in the city. Despite not wanting any visitors, you were the obvious exception and could go upstairs to see Marina. She looked up from her writing desk when Penelope announced she was coming with a visitor. 

The three of you gathered on the bed to share a plate of sweets. You mainly listened to Marina and Penelope, not having much to add. You wanted to figure out a way to help her. Trying to meddle in daily affairs and save the lives of one subject at a time seemed almost ridiculous. But, that was what you should do as a royal. 

“Did you say Spain?” 

“Yes. That’s where all of George’s letters are coming from at the moment. They all say Spain.”

“If you ever need a letter to Spain or to anywhere else they send Sir George, just let me know. The princess wants to help her subjects, especially women, so give me a letter and I’ll give it to her. Whenever you need.” 

Marina flung herself at you. “Thank you. If there shall ever be a problem, I promise I will say such.” 

“Oh, the princess is going back to the palace for a few weeks because of something important so I won’t be so available for a little bit.” 

“What will she be there for?” 

“You will find out when it happens.” 

The two of them giggled. “You are so mysterious.” 

~~

You were tired after an exhausting day but a letter you received from a footman that same day made you get up. Anthony had given you a key to the front and back garden gates as well as the back door that led into the kitchen. You entered through the backyard so you could actually get inside the house without waking the entire house with your knocking. You only needed Violet and Daphne. And you had a letter to leave just in case you couldn’t wake a single person. 

Voices made you pause. You recognized Eloise and Benedict talking. Instead of going any further, you just listened. Eloise — like so many other women — wanted better for herself. It had never been a question of something you would plead to your brother… You sighed. You knew your brother. It was time to stop thinking of him as the heir. There was a reason everyone was going to support Younger Charlotte’s claim over her father. And Young Charlotte listened to you. She planned on making you her advisor. There would be no pleading. You would make better laws for women. 

You didn’t want to disturb them too much so you flung the letter at Benedict’s head. Running as fast as you could, you ignored their confused calling out for you once they recognized the letter coming from the princess. Hopefully, Benedict or Eloise would get the letter to their mother before Nigel could come back. 

Dear Dowager Viscountess, 

I am nothing but my mother’s daughter and therefore it is, in fact, my job to meddle in the lives of our precious subjects for a better and more peaceful United Kingdom. Miss Beckett has told me much of your troubles in regards to a man called Lord Nigel Berbrooke. I don’t have much information on him but I do have a request that I would ask you to aid your princess in. 

I recall an acquaintance of his. A maid. She used to work at the palace but asked for a job in the ton so she could be closer to her aging parents. I believe she was employed by a neighbor of the Berbrookes? Or a friend? Or maybe them, who knows. She was supposed to come back two years after they died but has yet to return. Nigel or one of his neighbors must know. Or perhaps, his mother, she’s very close to the maids. Knows every single one of them by name. I care terribly for this maid and would like her working back at the palace.  

Please meet with his mother. She loves crumpets with any sort of preserves or a chocolate dipping sauce. It was all she wanted when she requested a meeting with my second brother. 

That is all I have to say. I do look forward to seeing your family properly. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Kew 

P.S. Please tell Anthony that it took him long enough but I am proud he finally came to his senses. If only he can learn to listen to a woman first then he might have less problems.

You smiled to yourself as you sat in the kitchens. The staff couldn’t stop talking about Nigel Berbrooke’s bastard that he doesn’t take care of and the mother he sent away before she even gave birth. You would feel bad but you had a very personal and up-close view of the man’s real personality. The morning only got better when Brimsley and Reynolds came in with Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. It was on the front page of the pamphlets. Absolutely worth paying the two pounds per pamphlet for everyone in the Kew household. 

“Do you think he’ll ever show his face again?” 

“No,” the cook said as she handed you your breakfast. “You did a good thing for Miss Bridgerton, Your Grace.” 

“Your Grace?” 

“It is just a title we are trying out.” 

You hummed suspiciously. The cook ignored you. 

“You better pack if you don’t want to be late for the carriage coming today.” 

You nearly forgot. The reason you couldn’t hang out with the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons arrived. Your cousin Friedrich, the prince of Prussia, was coming for a visit. He agreed to marry a British girl to strengthen the alliances and prove that Prussia and Britain were still close family. It was neither a complete truth or a complete lie. The entire family was not close. But you, your cousin, your father, your mother, and your aunt were very close. 

Sneaking out wasn’t an option. You thought that much as the carriage neared Buckingham. It had been a while since you snuck out the palace — a completely different thing from simply leaving Kew. Pandora, Brimsley, or Reynolds would sneak you your letters and you would be satisfied. Besides, even though your family was coming for an indefinite amount of time, you only had to stay a week or two. 

The carriage hadn’t even stopped completely before you ran to hug your cousin. It had been years since you last saw each other. You could hear your mothers laughing in the background. They left to have tea inside while the two of you stayed out. 

Friedrich took your hand in the crook of his arm. “Come, cousin, let us take a promenade. Have you been well?” 

“I have been better. However, I am doing well.” 

“And your illness?” 

“Not better. But I haven’t had an episode that I couldn't recover from on my own.” 

“That is good. I suppose that is the best we can ask for. Especially since I have a surprise for you.” 

“A surprise?” 

“I asked Aunt Charlotte and she agreed to let the princess accompany me to events as she knows the ton better than the both of us. You have to wear your mask but it is still a good deal.” 

“It is a wonderful deal.”

“Good. The first event is a ball tonight.” 

“Tonight?! But I’m not prepared.” 

“I’ve already had everything arranged.” 

“You planned this?” 

“I figured it would do you good to get some fresh air and get out of the palace… or Kew, now.” 

“Thank you, Friedrich. Seriously, thank you.”

(part 5)

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@fredsbetch @cherrylovers-world @chrystinaamanda @grassclippers @flyestvenustrap @spookystitchery @lovelyygirl8 @ben-has-arrived @tragically-hipp @cherrysxuya @alowint @jackierose902109 @boojaynaqueen @thesparkling-diamond27 @intothesoul

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[aphroditelovesu]

The Bloody Viscount - I

— summary: You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?

— gender: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, kidnapping, angst, fluffy, dub-con (?), possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!anthony bridgerton x female!reader.

— word count: +1,634.

— tag list: @will-delete-this-later-probably, @cayt0123, @flowercrowns-goodvibes, @czarinera

— prologue; chapter 2;

Chapter 1

''Dear and gentle readers,

Another social season begins and the bustle of the city returns with new marriage opportunities. Mothers desperate to find a good match for their daughters and singles looking for a suitable bride.

It is indeed a confusion, but one that will become more so after information has reached this author that Viscount Bridgerton is looking for a wife. Who will be the young woman who will hold this rake's attention?''

Chronicles of the Society of Lady Whistledown, April 26, 1813.

You threw the flyer on the floor when your mom came into the room. She frowned at you and you gave a guilty smile.

''(Y/N) you know I hate it when you read those gossip flyers.'' Your mother scolded you as she sat next to you on the couch.

''Sorry Mom, I just... I was curious.'' You muttered under your breath, aware of the scolding looks she was sending you.

''I've told you countless times, a lady shouldn't read too much.'' You watched your mother pick a biscuit from the plate and eat it with grace. You shrugged your shoulders at that sight. Your mother had always been a graceful woman even though she had low status, she acted like a real lady and that bothered you.

It bothered you because you knew you would never be as perfect as she was.

''I know! It's just...'' You thought quickly, ''Did you know that Viscount Brigderton is looking for a wife?'' Your mother's eyes brightened immediately.

You regretted her words the moment they left your mouth.

''Oh really? This is wonderful!'' Your mother's normally cold eyes turned gentle and warm. That wasn't a good sign, it was never a good sign.

You frowned and picked up the gossip pamphlet, wanting to get back to your reading. Your mother looked at you with disdain and took it from your hand.

''Mom!'' You protested.

''Silence! I'm reading.'' She grumbled, looking at you reproachfully. You huffed and sank down onto the couch, crossing your arms and sighing.

You didn't say another word to your parents until the next day. Not even at dinner which was always a hostile and uncomfortable moment where you felt more judged than ever.

You would never get used to Lady Danbury's balls.

You didn't have many certainties in your life at the moment, but you knew you'd never get used to how well planned they were.

You looked around and smiled weakly. The whole hall was decorated according to the tastes of its owner, ornate flowers, musicians, drinks and all dressed in impeccable ways. And, to make everything fancy, there was the Queen present. Looking at everyone with judgments and maybe looking for her diamond.

The ladies wore graceful and beautiful dresses, some more fortunate ones used jewels in their dresses. Jewels adorned them, you didn't fail to notice Lady Cressida Cowper showing off her neck adorned with a ruby necklace given to her by the new Lord Featherington.

And the gentlemen were dressed alike, you noticed. Or almost. Stylish suits and what complemented them very well.

And there was you. You looked pretty, that's what you'd been told and what you'd seen in the mirror, but you were wearing something more modest. Without much adornment, small and discreet earrings, a diamond necklace that had belonged to your grandmother and your hair done in a simple hairstyle but that left your features visible.

You thought you were pretty and you thought you looked pretty, but seeing the other ladies, you can't help but feel a little insecure.

Your fingers tightened on the hem of your dress, and if you hadn't been wearing gloves, you might have seen them turn white. You took a deep breath and looked around, amusement passed through your body when you noticed a group of young people and their mothers surrounding some poor man.

But when you realized who the poor man was your breath got deeper. As if you were desperate for air.

Viscount Bridgerton.

Your eyes met Viscount Brigderton's and you felt your face heat up as you felt the intensity he was staring at you.

He was an attractive man, you had to confess. And it wasn't the way he looked, sure, he was handsome, but the look in his eyes was what stunned you. The passion they conveyed put you to shame.

And the fact that eyes were thrown in his direction made you even more cornered. Looking away to a random spot on the ball, you smiled as you watched the couples dancing and people chatting and gossiping.

You turned to your mother, who was watching all the men at the party carefully, sizing them up. You mentally rolled your eyes at that, she was so determined to find you a husband that she didn't even ask you what you wanted.

It's not that you didn't want to get married, you wanted and would like to have a family one day, but... You didn't know how to deal with all that. This was his first season and your mother, Lady (L/N), seemed very committed to getting a good match for you.

And it wasn't for your happiness, you noticed.

It was to raise your family's social status. As the only child, it was your responsibility to improve your parents' lives. It was your duty and something you'd been raised to do since birth.

Raised to become a proper wife.

Your education, your tastes, everything that was taught to you should correspond to the tastes of your future husband. And your mother had been pretty strict about it. Your dad was more relaxed, but he always made his expectations of you clear.

Your mother's eyes turned to the Viscount and you felt like hiding. She looked him up and down, he was talking to an older woman, who you assumed was Lady Violet Bridgerton. His mother.

You watched your mother straighten her posture and start walking across the room, towards the Viscount. Your face got even redder because you knew what your mother would do.

What she always did. She would start babbling about you and your skills and what she thought you liked. How good and sweet you were, how motherly you were.

You mentally sneered and frowned when you saw your mother coming, accompanied by Lady and Viscount Bridgerton. You looked away quickly and turned so you could flee, when the Viscount's deep, sensual voice called out to you.

''Lady (Y/N) (L/N)?''

A shiver ran down your spine at the tone that had your name coming out of his mouth and you mentally scolded yourself. You straightened your posture and turned to face him.

You bowed slightly, lowering your head in submission, as your mother had taught you, and looked into his dark eyes.

''Lord Bridgerton.'' You smiled weakly, ''It's a pleasure to meet you, milord.''

You could have sworn you saw him wince at the title and his eyes darken even further.

Lord Bridgerton took your gloved left hand and pressed a kiss to it. Your body involuntarily shuddered at the touch, you bit your lower lip discreetly and felt your cheeks redden with the shame you felt.

''The pleasure is all mine.'' He released your hand gently. ''Would you do me the honor of a dance?''

You could have sworn your heart stopped at that moment.

And that you had heard a sound like a scream come out of your mother's throat.

But you smiled at him and bowed, ''Of course.''

You extended your hand to him and he took it. Lord Bridgerton guided you to the center of the dance floor. You stopped facing each other and when the music started, he started leading you in a classical dance.

You were uncomfortable with the intensity he was staring at you, but you tried to push it aside and focus on his footsteps.

''Nervous?'' He asked and you quickly denied it. He laughed a little and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you.

Amused, he continued to talk to you as you danced, ''I've never seen you at any of Lady Danbury's balls…''

''It's my first season.'' You replied, looking into his eyes.

''I see.'' Lord Bridgerton whirled you around and brought you into his strong arms again. ''You must be looking forward to getting married then.'' It wasn't a question but you answered it like one anyway.

''I am...''

''Anyone in mind?''

You blinked in surprise and answered uncomfortably, ''No... I don't think so.''

''Would you like to have children? When and how many?''

''Yes I would like. Not sure when and how many, but considerable time after the wedding and an amount that pleases both me and my husband would be well received.''

The Viscount hummed and you continued to dance in silence. When the song came to an end, you pulled apart and you bowed to him and he did the same.

''Thank you for the dance, milord.'' You lowered your head and waved at him.

''I thank you, Lady (Y/N)(L/N).'' Lord Bridgerton kissed your hand once more and smiled lovingly. He whispered inaudibly, ''I hope to see you again.''

You blushed at the tone and what it meant. Perhaps you had just captivated a Viscount.

You wanted to say something else, but he had already left. You looked around and saw your mother talking animatedly to Lady Violet. You sighed and were about to go to her when the Queen's voice rang out.

She would finally announce who would be her diamond.

You noticed all the young ladies looking anxious, as well as the gentlemen.

''My choice for this season's diamond is...'' The Queen made a cliffhanger and everyone held their breath, she smiled and looked in her direction, ''Lady (Y/N)(L/N).''

You could have passed out at that point.

— lady l: and the news came out that the world didn't believe!! I'm really sorry for the delay of the chapter! I had it ready for weeks but I couldn't post it because of my computer and because of other projects, however, I'll try to update this fanfic weekly! I promise to try :). I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

[vivaciousoceans]

lovely daggers pierced my heart moons ago

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton / Cressida Cowper

Rating: T+

Warning (s): None

Word Count: 1,538

Genre: Fluff, Mild Smut (if you squint and blink)

Eloise is different from Daphne, she has softer features, darker tresses, and she's most certainly not as poised as the ’diamond’ of two seasons ago. Yet, Eloise possesses the same captivating Bridgerton blue eyes that could melt hearts in mere moments, assuming one was foolish enough to be ensnared by their allure. Once ensnared, no man nor woman could save you from yourself or the lengths to which you’ll go to keep those eyes in your life. Cressida concludes that this must be how Penelope Featherington found herself entangled in the unexpected predicament of receiving tutelage in the art of husband-hunting from none other than Colin Bridgerton. It would be quite amusing, were it not for her own precarious position—clinging to the Bridgerton in her life by any means necessary.

She’d long regretted her behavior with Daphne, and not just because the elder Bridgerton had ascended to the esteemed rank of Duchess. Once upon a time, they had been friends, a bond that now seemed to belong to another era entirely. The transition from girlhood to womanhood had created an unbridgeable chasm between their worlds, rendering their past friendship a distant, bittersweet memory. 

When she’d extended a genuine offer of friendship to Eloise last season, determined to make amends, she’d been surprised by the rejection, nevertheless she tried to appear unaffected. In reality, she had pondered that moment every night until the summer, when Eloise finally decided to embrace society. Cressida couldn’t deny that she was a little disheartened at first, Eloise's spirit seemed to have been subdued by her scandal last season. She had secretly envied the younger woman, not just for her prestigious family name and connections. She wished she didn’t care so much about the tons perception of her; she wished the thought of being a spinster didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps rise along her arms. The idea of being forced to marry one of her father’s older friends made her stomach turn, and she would do almost anything to avoid that fate.

Except give up one of her most hard-won possessions, although she knows she can’t truly call Eloise hers. One day, Eloise would probably belong to a man too, just like Daphne, just like all the girls before Daphne. The ones who made her heart skip a beat, and her fingers linger just a little too long, hoping they felt what she felt. She was never surprised when they didn't.

Eloise is different from Daphne though, different from all the girls after Daphne. Eloise doesn’t want to talk about men and titles, she doesn’t worry herself with matters of imported fabrics and lace, or even the latest gossip. With Eloise, when they’re alone, she’s not a spinster, she doesn’t have to want to be a wife or a mother; the world around them is endless, and their voyages are vast. 

Eloise doesn’t want her to be anyone besides Cressida Cowper, a lady of witty banter and immense intelligence. It’s comforting to finally be enough after being told for so long that she needed to be more.

Perhaps that is why she decided to abandon her sanity, to succumb to the temptations she had long resisted. Perhaps that’s why she’d decided to throw caution to the wind, interrupting Eloise’s speech with a kiss. In that fleeting moment of passion, she'd come to realize she was willing to embrace whatever consequences came her way, even if it meant risking her reputation and defying societal expectations.

Part of her moved as if in a dream, every moment heightened as she leaned in, her slender fingers gently cupping Eloise’s cheeks, noting the constellation of freckles marking the supple flesh. Cressida had every opportunity to halt, to retreat, but she continued her descent.

Another part of her moves with the swiftness of a heartbeat, her lips finding Eloise’s with a passionate tenderness, enveloped by the velvet warmth of Eloise’s lips. Every part of her senses seemed intensified, heightened by the forbidden intimacy. She could feel each delicate ridge on Eloise’s lips, could taste the lingering essence of the mint tea they had shared earlier, and could hear the subtle hitch in Eloise’s breath as it halted to a stop. 

The younger woman remained motionless beneath her, her body still in the same position, mid-ramble about some novel or another. Eloise’s words always seemed to cascade together when she was truly excited, and though Cressida struggled to follow sometimes, she could never resist the enchantment of the way blush spread across the brunette’s cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to widen with passion.

Cressida knew such a defense would scarcely be believed—that she somehow swooned and fell upon Eloise’s lips.

Suddenly a surge of fear courses through her, a stark reminder that she is far too intelligent to be this reckless, to allow herself to let the comfort of friendship and the passion of lust lead her to this forbidden moment.

She attempted to pull back, to apologize for her behavior, salvage whatever remained of her reputation or even their friendship.

Her efforts are halted by Eloise's firm grip, anchoring the hand that Cressida had cupped against her face in place. Cressida's gaze drifted down to meet Eloise’s, witnessing the dilation of her pupils, the darkening of her irises, and the gentle graze of her teeth over her bottom lip, as if contemplating her next move.

Time seemed to freeze, suspended in an eternal moment, though Cressida knew only seconds had passed before Eloise acted. With a swiftness fueled by fervent urgency, Eloise initiated a kiss that far surpassed the confidence of Cressida’s own. There was no hesitation as Eloise delved into Cressida’s mouth with her tongue, sweeping across her bottom lip, eliciting a tiny gasp from Cressida's lips. Cressida pondered whether Eloise had experienced this before, whether she had kissed a man or even another woman, or if Eloise was just eager, a student in all areas of life. Such thoughts were swiftly brushed aside as Eloise’s hands began to explore, tracing down Cressida’s sides, skimming the fabric of her gown until Cressida found herself reclining on her family's settee, her head grazing the armrest in surrender to the intoxicating allure of the moment.

Eloise didn’t break away from her, her soft hands deftly navigating through layers of fabric to discover Cressida’s smooth, pale skin that had only known the touch of daylight within the confines of her bedchambers. As Eloise's warm fingers caressed her calf, gently kneading and coaxing forth a string of whimpers from her lips, Cressida found herself contemplating the sensation. Would it feel the same with a man? If his fingers were tracing the contours of her thighs, inching closer to her heat, his lips upon hers, would her entire being ignite, writhing under his touch as she did under Eloise’s? She doubts it. Questions whether anyone could reduce her agile mind to such a state of bliss as Eloise effortlessly did.

How could she return to the life society and her parents expected of her now that she had savored true euphoria? The mere thought threatened to send her into a fit of hysterics, but the sudden absence of Eloise’s lips on hers snaps her back to reality. She doesn’t have time to yearn for Eloise's presence, she feels those same lips resurface moments later, tracing a path from the corner of her lips to just under her chin, and then to that spot behind her ears that catches her off guard, eliciting a louder response than she ever intended.

It sobers her, reminding her of her surroundings, of the company she keeps. At any moment, one of her maids or even her parents could intrude upon the sitting room, catching her in a compromising situation.

Cressida gently pushed at Eloise’s shoulders, barely containing the whine threatening to escape her throat as Eloise withdrew from their intimate embrace, her gown swiftly falling back into place. She could sense the unspoken questions swirling behind the veil of lust in Eloise’s eyes, scrutinizing every inch of her being. Had Eloise always regarded her with such fervent intensity? Unable to bear the weight of the brunette’s gaze, Cressida averted her eyes and cleared her throat, her fingers smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown as she spoke.

“I shall instruct my maid to prepare my chambers for our deliberation on gowns for tonight's ball,” she declared, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within her. Was she being presumptuous? What would Eloise think of her? What would they even do once they got to her room? So many questions, so many feelings, and yet, none of them made her want to reconsider this for even a moment.

“Very well, Miss Cowper,” Eloise murmured, her voice husky with formality and an undertone of amusement that did not escape Cressida's notice. When their eyes finally met, Cressida detected a teasing glint dancing upon Eloise’s pink lips, and in that moment, she realized that Miss Eloise Bridgerton may just be the harbinger of her downfall. Perhaps it was a hereditary trait, passed down from Bridgerton to Bridgerton—the uncanny ability to be both someone's salvation and their greatest frustration.

[spaceorphan18]

Polin Fic : Twenty-Four Moments

A/N (Summary): Unsurprising to no one, I'm sure, I finally wrote my first Polin fic. A lot happens to Penelope in the infamous 24 hours within Episodes 4 and 5, and I wanted to explore everything she went through. I also wanted to challenge myself by writing some shorter/drabble like moments. (unbeta'd cause I just wanted to get it out into the world) So, here ya go! I hope you guys enjoy it!! :)

Rated: M for some light smut and a whole lot of feelings <3

****

I. 

The warm light of evening stemmed through her window.  Her bedroom remained still and quiet.  For a moment, time felt frozen, as if the entire world was on pause, holding its breath in anticipation for that evening.  

Penelope glanced up from her desk, taking a long moment to observe herself in the mirror.  

Did she even recognize herself anymore?  

The new clothes, the style of hair, the make-up on her face, couldn’t cover the fact that in her heart, she remained that Featherington girl.  That poor Featherington girl whose dreams, whose ambitions, whose life was always deemed too impractical.  

It did not matter anymore.  In twenty-four hours, she would be engaged.  She would be the next Lady Debling.  She would have all that she could realistically ever ask for.  She would retain her privacy.  She could keep writing at her leisure.  She would have house and home and possibly even children.  

And yet….

Penelope’s heart sank as she tore her eyes away from the mirror. 

Lady Penelope Debling.  An esteemed name.  An honorable name.  She hated the sound of it.  

II. 

Her sisters once again squawked about babies.  The subject was always on the tip of the tongue in the Featherington household, and the entire carriage ride to the ball, it was the only topic of conversation.  It was as insufferable as it was horrifying contemplating them as mothers.  

Penelope stared out the window, her anxiousness overcoming any desire to bite back at their stupidity.  

Her mother placed an unusually soft hand over her arm and leaned in towards her ear.  “You’re so lucky that Lord Debling is so dashing, Penelope.  I fear what your children might look like had he been any lesser.”  She let out a satisfied laugh as she patted Penelope’s arm. 

The knot in Penelope’s stomach tightened.  

III. 

She could not escape her mother’s clutches.  Could not hope for a moment for herself.  There was no safety along the wall she so often felt comfortable against.  

Still, the haunting performance allowed her a moment to glance over the room. 

Violet Bridgerton stood on the balcony; radiating out the warm, motherly quality her own mother lacked.  

Benedict Bridgerton was in the far corner, snickering and giggling as he downed a drink with a lady hung on his arm. 

Francesca Bridgerton stood composed and calm, leaning slightly on her side towards Lord Kilmartin. 

Eloise… Well, she wouldn’t dare think of Eloise; even if she knew Eloise was an arms length behind her, too busy confounding her with her friendship with Cressida Cowper.  

She scanned the crowd as she always did -- yet no familiar eyes lit up in her direction… 

Of course he wasn’t there. She did not know what kept Colin away that night.  But of course he would be absent when she met her inevitable fate.  

IV. 

The thing about Lord Debling was that he was secure in his dance.  He held her properly, confidently, and comfortably.  He was noble in stature, yet gentle in approach.  His smile was pleasing and his eyes kind.  A perfect gentleman.  A good match.  

He guided her around the dance floor with ease; even after she began to stumble.  Even after her resolve began to break.  Even after she could no longer truly meet in him the eye. 

Her life was about to be full.  And yet her chest felt hollow.

V. 

There were a lot of emotions she had felt for Colin Bridgerton over the years. 

Anger was new.  

How was it that he continued to find new ways to break her heart? 

VI. 

“I did not ask if it was a possibility, I asked if you’d like it to be.” 

Words, sentences, thoughts, ideas, things she was so good expressing once again stalled in her chest.  If only she could get out the correct answer.  Yet, her body betrayed her. Her ever aching heart betrayed her.  The feeling deep in her soul that knew the shackles of that unrequited love would forever weigh her down reflected on her face.  She deflated in resignation.  

If there was any silver lining to the humiliation - it was the fact that at least she no longer needed to keep up the facade.  The only way Lord Debling could have been a reality was if she hardened her heart.  

Maybe this was the push her heart needed.

VII. 

She didn’t make it to the carriage before breaking down.  

The ironic thing, she thought as the door closed, fully allowing her to sob privately, was that even though she would be forced to write about her foolishness yet again, at least she still had Lady Whistledown.  

At least she still had an escape.  At least she could still create her own refuge and retreat back into the shadows where she belonged.

VIII.

She had, perhaps, looked into Colin’s eyes a thousand times before.  She had seen his kindness, his humility, his empathy.  She had seen laughter, she had seen sympathy, she had even dared to see fondness.  She had seen sadness and boredom and distraction and irritation.  She had seen his protectiveness and, on occasion, even his passion.  And on one particular afternoon long ago an amusing sort of humiliation.  

Colin’s eyes were comforting and familiar, in the way one grows fond of looking into the depths of the ocean after a storm has passed and feels safe and calm.  

But in his eyes tonight? There were things she had never seen before. 

Hunger, desire, longing, lust… love? 

It was as if she saw herself reflected in his eyes, and it shook her to her core.  

Her own eyes fluttered shut.  She was done looking.  She wanted more.  

IX. 

Her body felt aflame.  

She felt him everywhere; his breath hot on her skin, his mouth hungry at her breast, his hand stroking fervently in places she never dreamed would feel so good.  They were connected in the most intimate of ways and yet even that didn’t feel enough.  She wanted to melt into him, like snow on spring grass.  

It was all overwhelming, all too much, and yet her body ached for more. 

She pulled him closer, nudging his cheek so that their lips could meet once again.  A groan escaped into his mouth as their tongues met.    

She wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever. 

X. 

The carriage may have stopped, but her world continued to spin.  

There was a burst of laughter between the two of them and even with the tangle of emotions, she felt grounded again.  He was still her Colin.  She would always be his Pen.  He was still her dearest friend.  

And yet now, as he tenderly put her back together again, something more.  

With a soft, mischievous look, he was out of the carriage, his hand held high - waiting for her.  She didn’t  know what it meant, but she would follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked.  But what came out of his mouth next was something in a thousand years she would have never expected. 

“For god’s sake Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?” 

XI. 

Walking into Bridgerton house felt like a hazy dream.  She felt as though she were floating, as if at any moment, she would wake up, and be in her own bed.  

Colin’s hand felt solid and firm in her own, the only tether to reality.  

She walked into the drawing room, terrified.  This house was once the home she wished had been her own.  And now she would officially be a part of it.  It did not feel real.  

She didn’t fully hear Colin’s announcement, nor Francesca’s kind words.  She could barely register Hyacinth’s embrace.  But it was Lady Violet that did her in.  Her acceptance meant more than the world.  She was finally home. 

XII.

It was Eloise who brought her world shattering back to reality.  Her words were like cold water thrown into her face, the iciness of which stung her very soul. 

She was not fully herself without Lady Whistledown.  She was also not fully herself without Eloise.  

She didn’t know how to reconcile being torn into so many pieces.  

XIII. 

He offered to walk her home.  She didn’t need an escort, not when she lived just across the way.  She had been alone in much more frightening places, but his insistence was endearing.  And, truth be told, she didn’t want to leave his side.  

She held his arm as they slowly made their way.  No words passed between them, only giddy looks and shared giggles.  

A long moment passed between them as they stood at her door.  He gently brushed the hair off her forehead, traced one delicate finger down her cheek.  

“I will see you in the morning?” How odd of a question, as if he was unsure of her answer.  

She nodded.  “Yes, of course.”  

He grinned proudly, taking a moment to look around to secure that they were alone before drawing in for a sweet kiss.  

It took her breath away.  He always took her breath away. 

XIV. 

Even home and settled, her mind remained abuzz.  She couldn’t sleep but she could write, and write she did, scribbling away as the evening slipped into early morning.  

Her quill scratched across the parchment, writing such delectable words.  

She only paused once, staring in somewhat disbelief at the words she had written on the page.  

…it may come to a surprise to all that Mr. Bridgerton’s rumored assistance in helping Miss Featherington find a husband has, instead, led to the two of them finding each other… 

She bit her lip, not helping the wide grin as she replayed Colin’s proposal in her mind.  

She wished she could see the looks on the ton’s faces when they read her column in the morning.  

XV. 

It was the birds that awoke her, their happy songs in the golden sunlight bringing her from sleep.  In truth, she could have stayed in bed much longer, but for the first time in forever, she truly wished to be in reality more than the fantasies that often occupied her dreams. 

She cuddled into her pillow, thinking about how on this bright new morning, she was indeed about to become a wife.  But not just anyone’s wife.  Colin’s wife.  Colin Bridgerton would be her husband.  

An electric shiver ran throughout her body at the thought. 

She closed her eyes and once again traveled back to the previous night.  She once again could hear all of Colin’s honeyed words, feel his desperate lips on her skin, the sureness of his hand between her legs…

She let out a tiny moan.  How ever would she be able to function that day?

XVI. 

Her sisters were easy enough to avoid -- they were loud as they left, their doting husbands dutifully trailing behind them.  Her mother, on the other hand, would be a force she had to meet head on.  

Would it be too much to ask for her to be happy with the news? Could she not, for a moment, give out the same warmth, the same kindness, the same joy that Lady Bridgerton bestowed upon her just hours earlier?  Could she just for once accept Penelope for who she was?  Why was it - even when she was feeling on top of the world - there was always the fear that her own mother would be the one who toppled her over? 

She braced herself, taking a deep breath in and holding her head high as she entered the drawing room. 

XVII. 

She once again remained dazed as Colin escorted her into the small home.  Was there a limit to how much he could surprise her? Would there be an end to the utter shock she felt? Would she ever stop falling more and more in love? 

He defended her against her mother, a moment that would remain seared in her brain forever.  And now, he casually brought her into his home.  Into their home.  Into the house they would live in.  Together.  

She could have easily dismissed everything she had felt last night as a one-time fantasy.  Some dream she conjured up by her imagination only to be dashed away when she retained her sensible mind.  But that would not be the case.  

Because today, because now in the brightness of the early afternoon, it all felt real.  Too real.  Too raw.  So unbelievable that she could barely process it.  

What else more could he possibly give her? 

XVIII. 

“Pen…”

“...yes?...” 

“I would like…I…”

“Anything, Colin.” 

“I am ready for you to touch me… Here, let me guide your hand.” 

“What…why are you laughing?” 

“It’s just that, you are so delicate in your touch.  You can be rougher if you like.” 

“Won’t I hurt you?” 

“You could never hurt me.” 

“Like this…is this good? I don’t quite know what I’m doing.” 

“It’s wonderful, Pen, just keep…yeah….” 

XIX. 

They continued to trade slow kisses, no longer hurried or heated, but calm and anchoring.  She relaxed into his embrace, feeling safer and more connected in his arms.  She had thought she had known what love was.  Thought she had known all its depths and all its intricacies.  But this new kind of love was surreal, as if it existed outside her plane of existence.  

His hand trailed over her skin sending a spark to her heart with each touch.  His fingers danced over her breast, stopping for a moment to be playful with a nipple.  She arched into him with a groan, raking one hand through his hair as she hiked one leg over his, lamenting the fact that he no longer was buried deep inside her.  His kiss deepened, and it was remarkable that she did not combust with ecstasy yet again…

XX.

“Penelope Featherington, you should not look at me like that.” 

She couldn’t help but stare as he rushed to clothe himself.  He had never seemed so handsome to her in that odd state of half undress.  If only she could be that fabric that clung so needily against his skin.  

“Isn’t a wife allowed to look at her husband?” 

A charming grin spread across his face.  “You are not yet my wife,” he gently teased.  

“No, but I long to look at you all the same.” 

His smile faltered as he looked at her with bewilderment.  

She was his.  She had always been his.  But it began to dawn on her that maybe he had always been hers as well.  They did not need to exchange marriage vows to belong to each other.  

XXI.

The Queen’s notice was heavy in her hand.  Even as Colin snuck a tiny nibble to her neck, she could not stave off the sense of dread growing in her stomach.  

XXII.

“It has been quite the day, has it not?” 

Colin helped her out of the carriage, ever the gentleman as he took her hand. It felt almost too simple a gesture for all that had happened between them, yet she took it willingly.  He kissed her hand and yet she couldn’t help but look up at him, wishing they weren’t bound by the rules of society.  How much she longed to kiss his lips once again.  

“Quite the day, indeed,” she managed to say.  

Colin moved in, whispering close into her ear.  “I love you, Pen.” 

She felt too dumbstruck to say it back.  But she felt it.  She radiated it.  He had to know, right? She was a writer of words, and yet she would never fully be able to express the depth of her love to him.  

“We’ll be together again soon.”  He dared sneak a gentle kiss to the top of her head.  

Somehow, the air around her grew colder as he left.  

XXIII.

The house she left was not the same house she came back to.  Something had shifted in the air.  Something had changed.  She had changed.  But she wasn’t the only one.  

Her sisters were one thing, with their pregnancies and their husbands and their uncomfortable commentary about Lady Whistledown.  They remained ignorant and occupied and could not sense that she was not the same person she had been just hours earlier.  

But her mother was different, too.  Her attempt at kindness felt troubling.  She did not trust it.  What scheme could she possibly be up to? It was doubtful that Portia Featherington could have actually found her heart.  But other improbabilities becoming realities had surprised her.  

XXIV.

The darkness of the evening light dimmed the room.  Penelope hardly noticed as she was too lost in thought to consider it.  She wrote away in her journal, wanting to document everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.  What a whirlwind it had been, and she wasn’t quite sure all of it had happened.  

She happened to glance up and catch herself in the mirror.  She didn’t look any different.  She was still her.  Still Penelope.  Still Lady Whistledown, though she tried her best to ignore the unsettling feeling brought about by that title.  Still the girl who had hopes and dreams even if she now better understood how love can reverberate through your world and change it so fundamentally.  

She was still Penelope Featherington. And even if she was still, maybe, unsure of who that was, even if she was learning that a sense of self was no longer a stable thing, she no longer scorned that name.  

Besides, soon she would become Penelope Bridgerton.  And with that, a sense of hope stayed firm within her, even if she sensed a growing shadow in her world.  Yes, she would be Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton. A comforting warmth spread in her heart at the thought.  

[lucyswinter]

Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult with the addition of 1984. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything! And for canon relationships, I will do any season besides NYC and Delicate as long as they are already together. For example, I would do Montana and Richard from 1984.)

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord, Sophia Lopez, Kimber Henry

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only “hero”/vigilante)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually as well as Benedict, Violet, Eloise, and the Featherington sisters! *Edit for season 3*: Lord Debling, Lord Stirling, Lady Arnold, Lord Anderson, Francesca Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

[jazzyjazzin]

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Cressida Cowper Characters: Eloise Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper, Michaela Stirling, Francesca Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Minor Francesca Bridgerton/Michaela Stirling, Mutual Pining, Regency Romance, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Lesbian Eloise Bridgerton, Lesbian Cressida Cowper, Eloise wears pants in this, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Jealousy, First Time, Vaginal Fingering, Cressida has a bit of a praise kink I think, Toppish Eloise? but really Cressida just needs more experience so I'm not committed to that

Summary:

“You should try writing to her, even if you are not to send them. I find, when I have so many feelings that I am unsure what to do with them, it helps to release them creatively.”

“But you draw, and I’m not much of a writer honestly. Well… most of the time anyway.”

“There are all kinds of writers you know. You believe yourself to not be a writer because there are so many of them already around you, but the world is full of creativity, full of art, full of someone who will always be better at something than you Eloise. Besides, I’m not asking you to publish a book of poetry for a long-lost lover. I’m just saying, try an outlet for once that doesn’t involve smoking on a swing?”

At that she had laughed but she had gone to bed with Michaela’s advice singing in the back of her mind and then had spent many nights when she couldn’t sleep in Scotland doing exactly as she had suggested.

And now Eloise stared at the never-to-be recipient of dozens of letters that hide in her desk drawer that resides in her room at Aubrey Hall and she is none-the-wiser and oddly calm and beautiful for someone who has been stuck with sheep for the last year.

[hocuspocusbabyy]

Ao3 ending pride month by shoving us all back in the fanfiction.net closet has got me biting at the bars of my enclosure.

Low key vibe with it though. Getting deprived of the wlw will make me appreciate it more… or am I just a sadist?

The next chapter of ‘If I betray you, I betray myself’, is promised to be utter filth and posted as soon as possible! Come chat with me if you have any requests, questions or suggestions!

🕊️🤍🦢

[justbeingayhere]

Knee Deep in the Carriage

summary: Eloise and Cressida get it on in the carriage {link}

(why should polin get to be the only ones to have fun in a carriage??)

more fics here

[ao3feed-kathony]

I will wait for you hoping you return to me

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59068162 by Andromeda (LauMansilla) One might say that we often associate grand English mansions with historic and significant sites, filled with artefacts and open to the public, or perhaps our minds picture them as dilapidated places, crumbling into ruin and fading from the memory of all but a few. But Aubrey Hall was different. The structure stood intact and imposing amidst the dense vegetation, almost as if, upon entering, one would be transported to another era, full of the memories and moments of those who had once lived there. This is a story about how a place can connect people, regardless of time Words: 1226, Chapters: 1/15, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Edmund Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Michaela Stirling, Sophie Beckett, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Alfred Debling, Cressida Cowper Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton & Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton, Anthony & Benedict & Colin & Daphne & Eloise & Francesca & Gregory & Hyacinth Bridgerton, Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Edmund Bridgerton/Violet Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton/Michaela Stirling, Francesca Bridgerton/John Stirling I, Alfred Debling/Penelope Featherington, Cressida Cowper/Alfred Debling Additional Tags: Eventual Happy Ending, Plot Twists, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, No Marina Thompson, Eventual Smut, Best Friends Sophie Beckett & Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Sophie/Michaela/Penelope and kate are friends, like bff, Edmund Bridgerton Lives, Sick Character, no death tho, Portals, Haunted Houses, but it's not really haunted, Confident Penelope Featherington, Colin "My Wife" Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Needs A Hug, Anthony Bridgerton is Obsessed with Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Artist Benedict Bridgerton, Good Sibling Eloise Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington Friendship, Cressida and Eloise are friends, Fluff and Angst, Aubrey Hall (Bridgerton) read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59068162

[luscious-coptic-curls]

Chapter 4 of "I'm so excited about your match" is up!

At that, Kate scoffed a bit. “Agatha, not to be rude towards your field, but isn’t all reality tv inauthentic?” With a sparkle in her eyes, Agatha smirked whilst explaining, “The situations you are put in may be manufactured. You, getting married to a stranger, whilst being filmed is manufactured indeed. How you respond is, or at least should be, real. If you happen to be involved in drama with another participant, the intensity of the drama may be manufactured but your response to it hopefully isn’t. The relationship activities and challenges thrown at you by the experts are manufactured, but your responses won’t be. And as a participant it is your duty to give the challenges, activities and twists your all. This is what intrigues our viewers, Kate. The very human and real responses participants have in the face of unusual situations.”

I'm so excited about your match (8488 words) by MGMango Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper/Prince Friedrich Characters: Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Mary Sheffield | Mary Sharma, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Simon Basset, Colin Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Cressida Cowper, Original Characters, Siena Rosso Additional Tags: Inspired by Married At First Sight (TV), Just Married, Reality TV, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Married At First Sight UK, Angst, Fluff, Mild Smut, My First Fanfic, Protective Anthony Bridgerton, Jealous Anthony Bridgerton, Stubborn Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, TV drama brings out the best and the worst of them, MAFS - Freeform, MAFS UK, Anthony Bridgerton is Obsessed with Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma Summary: He was sure he couldn’t hate his brother Colin any more than he already did, but here he was, seething while on his way to this façade of a wedding. Off to be married to a stranger. Married at first sight. And sure, it was easier to hate Colin instead of looking in the mirror. If he was truly honest with himself, Colin only got him signed up to the stupid show and stated some truths for his motivation in doing so. It wasn’t like Colin dragged Anthony to every so-called test or conversation with one of the experts. That was all Anthony. He was still coming to grips with the fact that he himself gave in to the experiment and to “see what would happen”. You’re off to marry a stranger, that’s what’s fucking happening mate. It definitely was not what he had intended or expected when he decided to give this experiment a go. What he definitely hadn’t expected was to be matched with someone as infuriating as Kate.

[pixiemunsons]

we go together like (bb)

happy pride month my loves!! this is my eighth year out (almost to the day) and i'm so happy to be here with you<3

i couldn't stop myself writing another modern!benedict lol i'm so sorry, also it’s 3.7k words got carried away again x

fake dating (bc i’m a slut for it x), hella smut ngl, it’s soppy but idc, kate is a wingwoman anthony is an old man x

tagging @repuklore for the modern ben vibes

a mutually beneficial agreement becomes much more

bridgerton family parties were always guaranteed to be memorable, and you thanked the gods every time you were invited to one that you had known them long enough to be considered a member of the family. there was at least one major event every time; the drink kate threw over anthony that led to the two of them fucking in a closet (and being caught by violet), penelope and colin’s first kiss, the one when eloise ran away to meet a man from tinder and didn’t tell anyone where she was for three days - you had never forgiven phillip for that.

your ticket to the fantastical parties always lay with benedict, your best friend and closest confidant for as long as you could remember. the two of you mostly managed to stay out of the spotlight at these events, choosing instead to get drunk and dance together. there had been the time that you had been sick in one of colin’s shoes, but that was the year that anthony had very, very drunkenly proposed to the wrong sharma sister, so you had managed to avoid the consequences completely. this time, however, the halloween party was not a family affair but the social event of the year, with half of london society invited. you were dreading it; both you and benedict were twenty seven and single, which meant matchmaking. and lots of it.

───

‘benedict, for the last bloody time, i’m not telling people that we’re dating!’ you whispered back to your pouting best friend as you walked into your bedroom, attempting to slam the door shut behind you. he caught the door with his foot, wincing as eloise shouted something about keeping the noise down; you loved your friend dearly, but she had become almost unbearable since phillip had moved in. colin had offered the spare room at him and penelope’s place, but they were even worse. benedict sat down on your bed with those puppy dog eyes that you could barely resist, pleading his case.

‘my whole family thinks we’re together anyway! c’mon, you just have to hold my hand a bit, sit on my knee, just like normal. i just can’t cope with mrs cowper trying to set me up with cressida another year in a row! i’ll even wear a matching costume with you.’

‘people will notice that we’re not kissing,’ you warned, and arched a brow when he opened his mouth with a smirk. ‘and don’t even think about suggesting it, bridgerton! anyway, your mother will be expecting us to share a room at aubrey hall.’ your resolve was breaking by the moment, and you really couldn’t see a reason why you and benedict shouldn’t pretend to date for a night. you could have fun like usual, avoid all of the irritating mothers and then, in a few weeks, tell everyone it didn’t work out and you were back to being friends. it would have been the perfect solution.

if not for the fact that you were in love with your best friend.

how could you not be? benedict was the ideal man. he was kind hearted, artistic and loving, gentle mannered but so strong at the same time. and, well, who wouldn’t want to jump his bones? you had had plenty of opportunities with plenty of the men in your social circle, but rejected every one in the distant hope that you and benedict could somehow end up there. you had sort of fucked yourself over, really; they’d almost all moved on, and you had been benedict’s platonic plus one to more weddings than you could count over the last five years. it was just the two of you now, the spinster and the bachelor as he so lovingly nicknamed you, and the hope of settling down was slipping away every day that you pined after benedict and he didn’t see you.

still, you just couldn’t help yourself. and you had to admit, the matchmaking was becoming a little boring for you too.

you crossed your arms over your chest, sighing heavily, and benedict’s face lit up as soon as he knew he had you convinced. after all, when was the last time you said no to him? he flew off your bed, taking you in his arms and kissing your cheeks as you flushed bright red.

‘you’re the bestest friend in the whole wide world, y/n y/l/n,’ he grinned, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

───

you, of course, regretting agreeing to his plan as soon as you arrived at aubrey hall that saturday. he had insisted on walking in hand in hand, and you secretly hoped no one would notice until later, when everyone would be too drunk to care and you could avoid the planned pda entirely. 

that was, until gregory walked in and ruined your life with a ‘why are you holding hands? are you, like, a couple now?’ of course, he managed to ask you at the exact moment the whole bridgerton clan, wives and children included, walked into the foyer. violet dragged you into a bone crushing hug, jabbering on about how she just knew that you’d end up together. anthony and kate were next, smirking at you as they instructed the butler - god, these people were too rich for their own good - to take your bags up to benedict’s old room along with his own. you could read kate like a book, and right now her eyes were screaming ‘spill the tea, bitch,’ and you resolved to make it your mission to avoid her for the rest of your visit. after all, she was more than willing enough to share her own when her and anthony first got together; you’d had to disinfect every surface at the big house before you’d even touch it.

just as colin started asking when the two of you had gotten together, your life was saved by another bridgerton sibling. eloise launched herself through the front door, and you could hear her half-arguing with phillip; you thought it might be about their halloween costume, but you could barely tell because, just as she walked in, benedict took his chance to wrap an arm around your waist and swoop you up into the room that the two of you were to share. you had been in here plenty of times over the years, but it seemed different this time. for one, the four poster bed suddenly looked much too small for the two of you to share without having to get very close. benedict seemed to be realising the same thing. he rubbed the back of his neck and turned to you where you were trying to unpack.

‘i’ll take the floor, you can sleep in the bed,’ he offered, and you forced yourself to turn around to meet his eyes. 

‘no ben, don’t be stupid. we can share. we’ll both be too wankered to be bothered about where we sleep anyway. remember that year we fell asleep on that garden bench?’ you snorted, and he chuckled in response.

‘god, yeah. i still regret that to this day, i woke up and simon and daphne were… groping each other.’ he shuddered a little, and you laughed aloud. anthony and benedict had nearly killed simon, until you had intervened and reminded them that not only was she a grown woman, the two of them had gotten up to a lot worse with other people’s younger sisters. the two eldest bridgertons had almost died of embarrassment, and daphne was now a hastings with two children, so you supposed it all worked out in the end.

‘anyway, let’s get ready for this party. time to put our couple faces on.’

───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰*.:。✧*.。:。*.。✱ ───

violet had really outdone herself with this one. the already beautiful grand hall was adorned in such stylish halloween decor, spooky without being tacky. everyone looked amazing; anthony and kate’s family were dressed as the addams, with charlotte in an adorable wednesday wig. colin and pen were fred and daphne from scooby doo, and something about the way penelope was glowing and colin held a protective arm around her waist told you they’d have an announcement to make very soon. daphne and simon’s family were, of course, dressed immaculately as the incredibles, whilst hyacinth had somehow convinced gregory and francesca to join her in dressing as the witches from hocus pocus. violet was wearing a beautiful replica regency era ballgown, and you could now see why eloise and phillip had fallen out; she had dressed as the red m&m, but it appeared that the message had become lost somewhere, because phillip had bleached his hair and was wearing a gold chain, evidently in an attempt at an eminem costume.

you and benedict always matched at these occasions, even if it wasn’t a costume party; he always wore a tie the colour of your dress, or you would both wear bridgerton blue for the finer gatherings. this time, you had elected for a classic danny and sandy, and you had to give yourself a clap on the back. benedict looked fantastic with his hair teased into a quiff, and those black jeans were doing wonders for him. you knew you looked sexy, too; your hair was curled and backcombed into a similar style to olivia newton-john’s, and the leather pants were clinging to you like a second skin. you felt amazing, even more so when you walked into the room to door natured wolf-whistles from your friends; kate’s was, unsurprisingly, the loudest. soon, you and benedict fell into a familiar routine; he brought you two shots each, and you downed them before dragging him to the dance floor.

usually, the dances between the two of you were sexy but friendly - you could grind on each other while laughing, benedict encouraging you to drop while holding one of your hands and twirling you around. this time, however, it felt more… sensual. you weren’t sure if it was what you were drinking or if he was just putting on a show for everyone now that you were ‘dating’, but benedict had a firm grip on your hips as he pulled you to him, draping your arms around his own neck and pulling you so close you could feel his breath on your face. you could feel his hands wandering over your hips and waist, and you smirked up at him.

‘hands off, mr bridgerton, or i’ll cut them off.’ he leaned down until you were cheek to cheek, panting as he danced with you.

‘you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you? this is what boyfriends do.’ you had to admit that the way he had mockingly murmured girlfriend had rushed straight between your legs, and from the way he was looking at you, you knew he knew it too. you had no idea what had gotten into him, but you were certainly enjoying it. he looked around, whispering to you once more.

‘everyone’s looking at us, babe, wanna give them a show?’ you looked up into his handsome face, and your resolve to not kiss him broke like a dam.

‘fuck it.’ you grabbed his cheeks, pulling him into an embrace full of fire. you hoped to convince yourself that you could have this. you could have a kiss from him and you’d never need another. you could take this now, and tonight he would sleep on the floor and you could move on. 

there was no chance of that now.

not when he tasted like whiskey and his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you to him and crushing you with the weight of his tongue in your mouth and smothering you with little moans. you could feel eyes from around the room boring into you but you simply could not bring yourself to care, not when his chest was so hard under your hands and his stubble was scratching your lips so deliciously. you pulled away slowly, and when you looked up through your lashes his pupils were blown, eyes almost completely dark. he licked his lips, looking around the room at the few people who were still staring, and your own eyes landed on kate. she was laughing at a red-faced anthony, who was attempting to shield the children’s eyes, and behind her back she gave you a small thumbs up. god, you loved that woman.

‘this might be a stupid question,’ benedict started, and you made eye contact once more. ‘but do you wanna… go upstairs maybe?’ your heart dropped in your chest. you knew if this went any further, you’d regret it forever. he’ll never be yours, your brain said, but before you knew it, your mouth had already spoken; ‘yeah, sure.’ 

your mouth, for the record, was a fucking bitch. 

benedict all but dragged you upstairs, and you could hear colin and a few of benedict’s friends whooping behind you. once you got to his room he took the chance to press you against the door and kiss you once more before letting you both in. the energy was charged and thick now that the two of you were alone, and you could have cut the tension with a knife.

‘before we-‘

‘i need to-‘

you both started at the same time, and benedict prompted you on. ever the gentleman. you took a deep breath, ready for the consequences no matter what they were, and spoke in a shuddery and tearful whisper.

‘i’ve been in love with you for a really long time, benedict,’ you started, and you could’ve sworn his lower jaw nearly fell off. ‘and i can’t do this if it’s just gonna be once. i can forget a kiss, even one as good as that, but this… i couldn’t. i’ve been doing this for way too long, pretending i don’t love you, and i won’t anymore.’ your lower lip had started to tremble, and you wiped away your tears with your sleeve. benedict stepped closer to you, looking at you curiously. ‘i can cope, if you don’t love me back. it’s okay. i’ll go back to the party, and i’ll be okay.’ you looked up with an expression that you hoped was confident, even though this was the longest you’d ever heard ben go silent for. he just studied you, staring over your face and body, and, humiliated, you turned to the door. maybe you could tell them all that you just broke up, hammer a few shots with eloise and forget this ever happened. yeah, sounds like a plan.

just as you reached for the handle, however, a large hand closed over your own, and you felt benedict’s front settle at your back as he had so many times on the dance floor. a long finger hooked around the hair at your ear and pulled it back, and he leaned down, breath skimming the side of your neck.

‘i have waited a very long time to hear you say that,’ he whispered, and you tried to turn around, but he stopped you with a hand on your lower back. ‘and i have wanted to say those exact words for a very long time, too.’ you leaned your head back against his chest, his chin resting on your crown. ‘i need you to know that it’s been true for me for years. i’ve been in love with you since that first party when we were sixteen.’ you laughed aloud at this, remembering the night you had met.

‘isn’t that the one when i rescued you from phillipa featherington?’ you asked, and he spun you around, nodding.

‘god, her mother’s pushy.’

‘worked out well for colin, even if he does hate her. she’s been trying to set him and pen up for years. she’ll be happy soon enough, i think she might be pregnant.’ benedict threw up his hands in shock, and you realised that he had intertwined his fingers with your own.

‘no one tells me anything!’ he shouted, and you laughed at him once more.

‘she’s not said anything, women just know these things. intuition.’

he looked down at you again, stroking your face with a rough hand.

‘you never knew i loved you.’

‘neither did you,’ you murmured, and reached up to kiss him once more. it started slow and steady, his hand caressing your cheek and his tongue stroking against yours. soon enough, it became hot and heavy between you once more, and benedict reached down to pull you into his arms. you crossed your legs behind his back, groaning as he pressed himself against you, and you could feel how hard he was already for you. you had dreamed about this for years, but nothing was as good as the real thing. he led the two of you to the bed, dropping you on it before crawling over you.

‘everyone else seemed to, though,’ he murmured into your neck, lips whispering across your collar. ‘everyone’s been asking about you for years. cinth asked me last week if she could be bridesmaid when we get married.’ you let out a chuckle which trailed off into a moan when benedict bit down on the column of your neck, and your hands trailed up his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

‘mum asked me a few months ago if i kept rejecting your mates because i was waiting for you,’ you divulged to him, carding fingers through his thick hair. benedict looked up from his position at your breast bone, eyebrow cocked.

‘did you?’

‘i did.’

he leant down to suck at the exposed skin of your left breast, suckling a dark bruise into the flesh which you were sure would be there for weeks. ‘good.’

his lips attached themselves to your neck once more, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, and your legs wound their way around his waist once more. benedict’s movements became frantic, yanking off his shirt before pulling at the hem of yours. as soon as it was off, bra going with it, his lips were all over you once more. there wasn’t even time to be shy, to worry about your best friend seeing you for the first time, because he was worshipping you like a fucking deity and you had never felt more desired, more wanted.

‘baby, please, i need you.’ he was whimpering, grinding up against your core like a horny teenage boy, and you thought he might cum in his pants when you used your legs as leverage to flip the two of you over until you were straddling him. you used a finger to tilt his head back, forcing eye contact, and kissed him once more. by now, your costume red lipstick was smeared all over his mouth and neck, and he looked so pretty begging for you like this.

‘do you really? i would never have known.’

you leant down to his neck, kissing so chastely down his chest that he was crying out for more after three gentle pecks. you grinned up at him, tucking your hair behind your ears before kissing slowly down his stomach to his pants. unbuttoning them, you could hear him swearing under his breath above you, and when you started to suckle on his hipbone he let out an especially loud ‘oh, fuck!’. you cocked an eyebrow up at him questioningly as you pulled off his trousers, taking his underwear with them. you couldn’t help but stare at him, exposed to you for the first time so intimately, and you knew you were dripping. you reached for his length, but he pushed your hand away, panting.

‘as much as i really, really want you to, i wanna cum in you,’ he gasped, and you had to admit that sounded like a really good idea right now. so you stood up to shimmy your pants off, crawling back over benedict as he had over you earlier, now bare before each other. he stared up at you so tenderly it brought tears to your eyes, an emotional moment in such a charged atmosphere, and he stroked a hand down your waist to hold your hip.

‘you’re so beautiful, you know? i never really appreciated you like i should have. i’m going to do that every day now.’ you smiled down at him, kissing his lips gently and lining yourself up with him.

‘i’m on the pill, if you wanna-‘

‘god, yes,’ he hissed out, and you slid yourself down onto him.

even with how wet you’d been all night it was a tight fit, and you had to take a moment to compose yourself on him. you squeezed at benedict’s broad shoulders as he peppered reassuring kisses all across your own, rubbing a soothing hand across your back. slowly, you lifted your hips halfway, before pushing back down hard. he hit a spot in you that you had no idea even existed, and the resultant moans from the two of you could surely be heard halfway across the building. you built yourself into a steady rhythm, hair falling down in front of your face as benedict met your thrusts with his own hips, fingers digging into your waist with a fervent need. you had never been with a man so vocal, and his non-stop groans and gasps of your name were slowly but surely pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

‘so good for me, so fucking good,’ he was almost whimpering, pressing kisses to as much of your hot skin as he could reach, and when he traced his tongue under the curve of your right breast, tasting your skin? your orgasm hit you like a truck, and benedict picked up the slack of your stuttering hips and ground himself up into you, cumming with a roar of ‘oh, fuck, y/n!’

the two of you sat for a moment, revelling in each other before you carefully, slowly pulled yourself off him, both of you hissing from how sensitive you were. you laid down next to benedict, both completely naked, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead gently.

‘i love you, y/n.’

he said it with such sincerity you could have cried, choosing instead to press a hearty kiss to his lips once more.

‘i love you too. forever.’