Benedict Bridgerton X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Haha you found my Benedict thirst sideblog. Enjoy my dear 😁🧡

my eyes are enjoying 100%!! you're doing a public service, faye

in honor of two hundred followers, i'm bringing the cozy cafe event back! this time, it’s revamped with some extra orders ♥️

a very cozy cafe event

in honor of two hundred followers (!!!) im hosting a cafe event ! - - - - - we’ll have a blast < 3

❛୨୧━━━━━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❫･━━━━━━━━━━━━━୨୧❜

🍓 [ strawberry dreams ] — after reading your description of yourself, i will ship you with a character from the fandom of your choice/or a random character !

🍫 [ chocolate ganache ] — send me a prompt of your choice and a character and i will write a drabble or blurb based off what you send! ( 500 words, max )

🍾 [ bubbly soda ] — i will create an ‘Instagram account’ based off of what your account might look like if you were dating/friends with a character you assign !

🍮 [ pudding party ] — assign me a character to create an aesthetic moodboard/profile theme ( your choice )

💌 [ perfect parchment ] — give me a comfort character, who will then write you a love/platonic letter, after you give me some information to include!

🧺 [ picnic tunes ] — tell me your personality and overall music taste and i'll make you a playlist!

🌱 [ fresh greenery ] — i’ll assign you an aesthetic based on your profile and posts, complete with a moodboard and banners!

❛୨୧━━━━━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❫･━━━━━━━━━━━━━୨୧❜

CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR marvel — steve rogers, tony stark, thor odinson, natasha romanoff, peter parker (one and three), harry osborn, matt murdock, doctor strange, shang-chi, wanda maximoff, pietro maximoff, loki friggason, bucky barnes, pepper potts, peter quill, scott lang, hope van-dyne, gamora, nebula, jane foster. ( dm me for asking if I have anyone else )

the summer i turned pretty — jeremiah fisher, conrad fisher, steven conklin, belly conklin, cam cameron.

harry potter ( golden era ) — harry potter, draco malfoy, ron weasley, hermione granger, cedric diggory, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, blaise zabini.

harry potter ( marauders era ) — james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, severus snape, lily evans, regulus black.

dc — clark kent, bruce wayne, diana prince, barry allen, hal jordan, dick grayson, jason todd, conner kent, wally west, damian wayne.

stranger things — steve harrington, eddie munson, jonathan byers, nancy wheeler, robin buckley, chrissy cunningham.

misc — spencer reid, mike ross, elle woods, tangerine, anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, li shang, flynn rider, lucifer morningstar, prince charming, aladdin.

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

seeing your own post in top fics is literally WHIPLASH… what do you mean people like what i’ve posted?? they’ve shared it?? blasphemy!!

Unwritten Masterlist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Writer and pen pal of Eloise Bridgerton, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had no plans to come out in society. Her family could hardly afford it after all. And she doesn’t need to marry, not when she can support herself and her family with her writing. But ever the hopeless romantic, (Y/N) embraces London society with hopes of finding inspiration for a new story. Only to find herself the subject of a love story right out of one of her favorite romance novels.

Prologue: The Letters 

Ch. 1: The Wanderer 

Ch. 2: Don Juan 

Ch. 3: Practical Education

Ch. 4: Self Control 

Ch. 5: Vanity Fair

Ch. 6 - coming soon

Ch. 7

Fairness in one’s heart // part 2 (Reader x Benedict Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex–awesome–22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @queen-of-books, @merlieve, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @automaticbakeryfreakshoe, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, Post tag: @memberofalthefunfandoms, @lonely-witch, @northern-typist, @mostly-meg, @lofious, @acollectionofmymadness, @flowercrowns-goodvibes, @benedictbridgertonss, @busy-bee-angel-misska, @kazbekkarluvbot​, @erikaar (I can’t seem to tag you), @magical-spit​

Read part 1 here!

Summary: Benedict dares to make his first move on you but not without consequent. Will he dare to go deeper into the dangerous waters he finds himself in.

The next ball was around the corner as despite everything, Benedict hoped to catch another glimpse of you. Ever since he laid eyes upon you, were you haunting his dreams. As a ballerina on a center stage were you spinning around his mind. The spotlight constant on you. Turning and turning till he got dizzy from admiring you. He putted his glove better over his hand, sharing a carriage with his brothers and Eloise. – “These dreadful pins.” – called Eloise out, struggling with the irritating feeling it gave her on her head. She groaned, throwing her hands down onto her lap. Colin sighed soft, motioning for her to present her head better to him. She did as she was told, crossing her arms. Colin retracted the pin a bit from her hair, but not quite out of it. 

He then pushed it back, letting the end of the pin go in a different direction. – “Better?” – asked he, holding his hands up in case he had to intervene again. Eloise touched her head for a moment, scrunching her nose. – “At least it isn’t poking holes in my head anymore.” – responded she bitter. Benedict chuckled a bit, finding his little sister amusing. Eloise glanced over to him. The conversation she had with her brother still vivid in her mind. She could still recapture his words, the way the tone in his voice changed, the little details in his facial expressions that gave him away. Something was brooding inside of him. She just wasn’t sure yet what it was.

Keep reading

“pall mall”

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader ~ mention of children, mention of pregnancy, reader is a tiny ball of energy

word count: 1.1k

Spending time at Aubrey Hall was your favourite time of the year. After enduring the social season in the city, having to act submissive and genteel, the country provided you with some much needed space to breathe.

You and Benedict spent a lot of time at his ancestral home, instead of staying at your own country house not so far away. And now that the two of you had children, it was nice for them to spend time with all of their aunts and uncles as well as their grandmother.

Your son was just 3 years old, having been born a year into your marriage with Benedict, and your little girl followed at just nine months old. They were the most beautiful children you had ever met, although you may have been biased.

And now you had brought them to Aubrey Hall once more for the annual Bridgerton pall mall game. When Benedict brought you for your first ever game with the family, that was when he realised truly how well you fit in with his family.

He remembered so clearly the glint in your eyes and the way you had jumped up and down with glee each time you hit your ball through a wicket. He also remembered the look Anthony gave him when he caught Benedict staring at you with a small smile on his face; it was one of approval.

This year, however, your family was joined by the Sharmas, Lady Mary, Miss Kate and Miss Edwina, accompanied by Lady Danbury, who was rather a large fan of yours after quite a few drinks in her den of iniquity.

You and your husband, in-laws and guests all stood about preparing for the game after Kate had taken Anthony’s so-called ‘mallet of death’. You placed yourself in front of Benedict, the hand not holding his mallet snaking around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I like this one,” you announced smirking in Kate’s direction, “she’s feisty.”

“I’m sure she would be no match for you, my love,” Benedict replied, his tone teasing. “I have after all been on the receiving end of your rather… spirited nature many a time. I should know.”

You gasped playfully and spun around in his arms to face you husband, lifting your mallet in the air with a mock-threatening expression.

“Take mercy on me!” your husband exclaimed, pretending to shield himself from your wrath.

“Hmmm…” you contemplated. “I suppose I must yield if I am not to leave our children fatherless. What a shame…”

It was a favourite pastime of yours to tease your husband so, and it had become an integral part of your marriage. The playfulness between you served you well.

“Where are the little devils anyway?

You thwacked Benedict’s chest with the back of your hand at him calling your darling children ‘devils’.

“William is inside playing with Gregory and Hyacinth. Hyacinth is rather fond of him now that he is old enough to run around with them. And Ada is napping with Grandma Violet.”

“I suppose if the children are not here to watch…” Benedict began, a smirk forming on his delectable lips. “It means that I am free to do this.”

He caught your lips in his, engaging you in a sweet kiss that grew more passionate as his tongue worked its way into your mouth. With two children it was hard to find time for each other during the day.

But that simply meant that your romance continued during the night, only hoping that Ada would make it through the night without being brought to you by her nanny to be fed or calmed, as you had opted not to seek out a wet nurse.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Eloise called, causing the two of you to break away from each other with cheeky smiles gracing your slightly swollen lips. “Are you going to play or not?”

You chuckled at your sister-in-law’s impatience, grabbing Benedict’s hand and dragging him along to join the rest of your family.

The game of pall mall went along as it always did; Colin bashing everybody’s balls out of the way, you and Eloise teaming up defeat her elder brothers, Anthony not being as solid a shot as he thought himself. And while her sister was very much enjoying the game, Miss Edwina did not seem to be having as much fun.

“You seem to have lost your good aim, Y/N,” Colin said, after your ball had gone just wide of the wicket.

You gasped dramatically, holding a hand to your chest in offence.

“I can assure you, Colin, that I have not lost anything.”

“Not yet.”

“It is these blasted gloves,” you replied, tugging at the blue garments on your hands. “They do not allow me to get my grip correctly.”

“Of course not, Y/N,” Anthony joined in, leaning his elbow on the top of his mallet. “I am sure that your win four years ago was not accomplished by mere chance,” he teased.

“I shall have you know that Daphne only pipped me to the last wicket last year, and i was in my sixth month of pregnancy with Ada.”

Anthony held his hands up in surrender and Kate chuckled beside him. You sent her a wink and returned your focus to removing your gloves.

“Allow me, my love,” Benedict said as he dropped his mallet and got down in one knee in front of you. He gently took your gloves from your hands and began to leave gentle pecks up along your arm.

You giggled at his actions, but you could hear Eloise groaning behind you.

“Would you two stop being so sickeningly in love?” she asked incredulously. “I cannot possibly fathom how any of us have withstood witnessing your affections for the past four years.”

You took your gloves out of Benedict’s hands and left a small kiss on his lips before you hurried along to join Eloise and find where you had hit your ball.

Benedict watched you go with a lovesick smile on his face as he sauntered over to Kate and Anthony who were stood together, Miss Edwina off to the side with Daphne

“You make a beautiful couple, Mr Bridgerton,” Kate told him, as they watched you cheer on Eloise as she hit her ball through the wicket.

Benedict smiled and was about to answer with thanks but he was interrupted by Anthony.

“You say that now…”

Benedict smacked his brother round the back of the head ready to retort when the three of them heard your cries of joy. As they looked over to the sound, they saw you and Eloise spinning around and your ball just past the last wicket.

“I look forward to dinner with those two,” Kate chuckled.

Alone Together // Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Some portraits are meant for private eyes.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: Smut. Minors, DNI. NSFW. My first attempt at full on smut. Oh lord.

Quick Links : Masterlist ; Request Guidelines

Benedict Bridgerton had learned several lessons about married life. He never wrote them down in fear of being chastised by his brothers about the way his marriage functioned, though he found relief in knowing that a structure had fallen into place that felt comfortable, realistic, and loving.

After all, that was what he wanted from a marriage where the decision to unite was made fairly quickly.

The first lesson Benedict had learned was that the space you both shared was not meant to be separated. Sure, he had a study that he used for work that had been designated as "Benedict's study," but you were never not allowed in. He couldn't count the times the desk had been christened or the sofa, or the bookcase. The first few months of marriage had been very eventful.

The second lesson that he had learned was you were not the woman he had been told he was going to marry. Society had told him to marry a woman who was reserved, knew the distinction between gender roles, and kept an average life–similar to how he saw Daphne fill her role as Duchess. Granted his sister was far from a dainty lady, she had made a staunch effort to become one. Much to his satisfaction, you were not going to fill those expectations. You had hobbies, liked discussing the world with Colin, hated playing the Piano Forte, and were absolutely enthusiastic about Benedict continuing his passion of art. There was never a time that you did not give him a critique of his work, or give him inspiration for a new piece... even if those would never see another pair of eyes.

The third lesson of marriage that led Benedict to believe this was the best situation he could ever find himself in was the honest that fell between you both. He never felt he had to walk on eggshells, and you never believed that you had to keep emotions reserved for the sake of marital longevity. If you disagreed with an action he made, he knew about it. If he did not enjoy the presence of one of your friends, you told him about their arrival far before they had agreed to make the trip to London. Everything was easy, even when it wasn't.

He had met his life match with you. Therefore when he sat in his study late at night with the fireplace lit and candles lining the mantel, he drew freely with thoughts of contentment flowing in his mind. Few worries plagued his creative brain.

There was one source of tension, however, that grew nearly nightly in the Bridgerton household helmed by Benedict: the man never went to bed at a reasonable hour.

Benedict would sketch and sketch and sketch the moment he was filled with inspiration. It did not matter if it was breaking dawn, he would not sleep until he was relatively satisfied with a sketch that would propel him into inspiration after his next sleep. You, on the other hand, waited, waited, and waited for your husband to come to bed nearly nightly. You would lie there, staring at the vaulted ceiling and the moonlight trickling through the curtains in thin strips across the light walls; with every movement of the space oddity, no reflection of light deterred Benedict in the room below your bedroom.

With a huff of subtle annoyance, you rose from bed, searching in the dark for your chiffon robe before giving up and lighting a candle. You hadn't wanted to waste a perfectly new wax, but it was worth it to get the man you loved back into bed. The door from the bedroom echoed a creek down the small hall, lingering by the steps before making its descent into the quiet home that was far too dark to make out any figure against the floor. The steps were cold against your feet as you made the trek, slowly taking the steps with one foot in front of the other while the small light from the candle helped you see.

Each creek drove you closer to the destination. Its door was shut, a soft orange glow emitting from the small crack at the bottom—heat from the fireplace igniting the floor in warmth just beyond its reach. With a careful knock, two knuckles jutted hard against the wood before you turned the cool, golden handle. The man of the hour was lounging in a chair across from his desk, casually draping one arm around the back of it as the other sketched quickly in his sketchbook.

Based on his current position, you believed he hadn’t heard the soft knocks or the door open. His attention solely focused on his work, the unruly tussles of hair or relaxed shoulders neglected to flinch at the sound of the candlestick being set carefully upon the fireplace’s mantle. You moved toward him as he lounged on chair, a finger tracing the ornate decoration of its edge as your presence was surely felt then. Crouching down behind its back, your negligée and it’s silk vestment pooled around you as elegant as possible and Benedict sighed heavily as soon as your intoxicating scent reached his nose.

“It’s quite awful, don’t you think?”

He was talking about his drawing, though your attention was set on him. Your head resting against the back of the chair, you had a perfect position to admire his profile. In his element, Benedict was glowing with the soft, near-yellow light of the room. His judgement of his piece crafting a crease in his brow line, a slight frown on his perfect mouth.

“Whatever you choose to draw, Mr. Bridgerton, is the most spectacular piece of art I’ve ever seen.” Your smile couldn’t divert his attention, neither could the fingers from your right hand coming to run through the bottom of his hair.

“You only say that because you’re my wife. It’s hideous. Look at the hands! My gods they look absolutely ghastly.”

“Ghastly… perhaps that is a proper indication of a day spent? It is well beyond a descent bedtime and I’ve been waiting.”

Whatever you could have implied by the simplicity of stating you were ‘waiting,’ Benedict’s head popped up comically as he glanced to the side and to the clock on the mantle. Very well past a proper bedtime and suddenly he realized it was the fourth time that month you’d come to gather him and his scattered mind for bed. The pad of paper, followed by the roll of the stick or charcoal, found itself quickly placed on the floor as he turned his head to yours.

“Darling—“

“All I ask is my husband to come to bed with me…” your voice was soft, soothing against his immediate thoughts of possible anger, resentment from you. “Your passions do not bother me in the slightest, Benedict. Though I would appreciate a husband who showed a little excitement in retiring to our room at night.”

“Do not think I do not want to sleep in the same bed with you, my dear, because I do. I am simply… stuck. That is all.” His offensive was sincere, which you knew to be true anyway. There was no vicious bone in Benedict Bridgerton’s body. He was all parts good of both Rupert and Violet, built into a man of great renown and artistry. Although you were exhausted, you couldn’t help but inquire about his problems.

“Stuck? How so?” Your husband sighed once more before grabbing the sketchbook, turning in his seat to show you. The pages he flipped through contained various portraits of Grosvenor Square, London, and believe it or not, his family.

“I do not see the problem, Benedict. These are beautifully done.”

“No, no. You see—“ he pointed to the lines of faces, hands that were imperfect to him. “It’s all wrong. I don’t have any inspiration.”

“Inspiration?”

“Yes. Nothing sparks an interest. I can draw my mother’s face one million times and no matter how it resolves itself, it’s always wrong.”

“And you wish to continue drawing your mother?” Immediately upon his confession of a ‘lack of inspiration,’ an idea popped in your quizzical little mind. Perhaps, if all were to go well, you both could end the evening—early morning rather—with multiple complaints and needs satisfied.

“What do you suppose I do? Lady Featherington just bought a dog! Do you think she’d let me sit with it for a bit? I’ve never drawn an animal like such before.” His eyes lit up at the idea, but you shook your head and stood from your position.

From the look in his eyes, Benedict could easily lie about his conflict regarding inspiration… you were a vision. A perfect amalgamation of his dream wife. From the color of your hair, the softness of your skin, the gentle touch of your hands, Benedict was enamored. Positively captured in the sight of you.

"Well, you've drawn birds before, as well as swans at the lake..." As you began your turn about the chair, Benedict could only watch the way your body moved. The languid, fluid lines of your arms–the one in question moved along the back of the chair until it met the air with grace. A posture near perfect, an illuminated glow against the outline of your face was angelic.

"May I draw you?" Your husband spoke with laced confidence. Inspiration truly struck when his muse was right in front of him. The slight perk in your chin and ghost of a smirk against the enchantment of the room.

"Draw me? Aren't you afraid of making me look like... well... I don't know... a sorrowful sow?"

"My dear–" Benedict took the opportunity to hastily rise from his seat and inch by inch, his presence was felt. The sensation of the tall man hovering behind you, the way one hand gently skimmed the small of your back before grasping and dipping too low on your hip. His other hand began with one long finger tracing your lightly covered arm.

Struck with an arrow shot by Cupid himself, Benedict was not going to let this fantasy escape the room unfulfilled. Was it not every artists dream to draw their lover with nothing but their eyes to witness both its sensuality and beauty.

"–not even on my worst days would you be anything less than magnificent... and, if I may be so bold, only my hands could do you justice." The feathering of his lips and hot breath against the shell of your ear was plenty enough to fulfill the reason you had made the trek to his study initially. It was true, however, his hands were the only ones who could do you justice not only on paper, but every unspoken place too.

"I suppose there is only question left to ask then." Your voice a mere octave of what it once was. Intoxicated by his sensual touch, Benedict unwrapped your soul as if he were the kindest devil you had ever met. "How do you want me, Mr. Bridgerton?"

Not a beat later, he replied:

"On the chaise, Mrs. Bridgerton."

And before you could move a step, his fingers tugged on the lace of your dressing gown.

"Without these."

His attraction to you and your body could be pushed aside for a moment while he dictated how you laid, the position of your head, arms, as well as gathering his materials onto the small table next to the chair. Pushing up the sleeves of his poet blouse, its deep neck and exposure of his arms were enough to brush those anxious thoughts away.

"Are you ready?"

His voice alerted your eyes to gaze at his face, not chest. An eyebrow raised expectantly waiting for your reply.

"Isn't that up to you?" Clearing his throat, Benedict nodded, adjusting his drawing pad once more.

"In that case, lie pretty and stay silent darling."

You needn't reply to his demand. However taken aback by his sudden assertiveness, the words made the hair on the back of your neck stand a little straighter than they had been before.

Then, he began.

The sounds that filled Benedict Bridgerton's study were the light cackling of the fire accompanied by the periodic jutting of a charcoal stick. From his position, Benedict focused on the nothing but the beauty before him. The way your eyes rarely left his own, allowing him to shamelessly stare at the parts of your body he worshiped in the privacy of your home. He considered the woman before him.

Soft features glowing from the yellow light. With the way your neck had been turned toward him, a muscle formed a perfect line to your collarbone that led to the swells of your breasts. Each flawless with pert nipples at their center, teasing his senses with a need reserved for him. Following them down toward your stomach, the space he loved to rest his head on in the early morning light before the chambermaids disrupted the private moments you shared together.

Under his gaze, you weren't ashamed. Benedict's careful dissection of you never allowed those feelings to surface. Positivity, embedded in praises for every inch of your skin was his church. Singing his blessings, his righteous sanctuary where he submerged himself with a beatified appetite. Cascading past his most amiable place of rest, your legs gave him only a hint of the place his whole being was aching to be. An unbelievable center of pleasure, its sheer exposure to the room sending endorphins to his brain to the precipice; the charcoal in his hand nearly crushed by an iron grip.

Then your right leg–the one that had been resting on top the other–moved barely an inch, sending his eyes back to your face where he knew his thoughts were heard even if they hadn't been spoken aloud. Benedict wavered not as your stare unraveled him now, both trying to ignore the sensations building.

A trivial growing tightness in his trousers, a light twitch and uncomfortable in his current position; the restrained, measured wanton feeling thriving in that pocket he so desperately wanted to devour.

Those ticking seconds felt as though they were hours lingering. Hand unmoving, model static against the fabric of the chaise; two sets of admiring eyes voicing much more than words could say.

"I love you."

Three words, forever yours from his lips. Benedict watched as your chest hitched, perhaps taken by surprise at the moment of his declaration.

"I love you too."

The most beautiful smile appeared on his face from a reply he had heard a thousand times. His wife, his forever home, answering his call with a sincere adoration he only wished for in his childhood dreams. A love like his parents now a reality in a home he built with you. Dropping the drawing stick onto the table and the pad of paper falling to the floor with grace, Benedict nearly launched himself out of the chair and toward you with a purpose. As you made time to sit up on your elbows, Benedict grasped the back of your head with both of his hands, planting his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

The force of his body colliding with yours sent ripples down your spin, hands shooting up as his drip held you steady and latched themselves on his billowing shirt. The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues intertwining, sloppy, but all the same as passionate as ever. Benedict broke the kiss to pepper just as careless kisses on your jaw and neck, feeling your fingers fumble with his shirt when he moved to straddle your body.

“Just take the bloody thing off.” He mumbled, grabbing one of your hands in an effort to help pull it over his broad shoulders. Once flung onto the ground, your fingertips lightly trailed his torso to rest on the very edge of his trousers. With a quick grasp and pull, he trapped your body against the chaise with his own.

A heavy breath, Benedict lowered his mouth again as his hands began groping every part he could reach. “I cannot—“ a kiss below your ear, his hands tight on your sides; “—have you—“ a kiss with his teeth scraping the column of your neck, hands hovering lower towards your hips; “—as a model—“ another just above your breasts as his head dipped below your own, both of his hands now finding your thighs between his spread legs, and a swift movement with a slight separation of your bodies brought yours out and around his waist; “—because you drive me absolutely insane.”

Benedict’s pupils blown wide, his arousal evident against your growing wetness. As he descended back down, he ground into you with a fervor, sending a sound he loved out of your mouth from the very depths of your soul.

“If I knew—“ your breath hitched once more when he ignored your comments and latched his mouth onto your left breast. Taking his tip to mark the delicate skin, he swirled over the nipple with his tongue—to which you replied with the arch of your back and jutting of your hips. “—that posing for a portrait was all it would take to get you to devour me, I would have left bed much earlier.”

Benedict let go of your breast with a pop, looking up at you from his position. His look was absolutely sinful, taking a moment to find one of your hands and bringing it to his head of hair, encouraging you to rake through it, to pull if need be.

“You needn’t pose for a portrait to get me in bed. Your presence is more than enough. Now, if you’ll stop trying to make conversation, I’d very much like to fuck my wife.”

Even in his crudeness, Benedict managed to make it sound most appealing. Besides—you had dove off the deep end of lust minutes ago and no amount of boorish language would send you running in the other direction. A part of you enjoyed Benedict like that: in control, demanding. He was so kind and amenable that his inclination to be dominate in his artistic element was exciting.

“Your wife has all but one objection.”

“That is?” His eyes were half-lidded, fully intent on focusing his attention on your other breast as his hands moved back up to stroke your sides and brought your legs hitched around his waist. With a rotation of his hips, it sent your mind spinning. No objection sprouted, a breathless groan took its place.

“I’m waiting for your objection my dear.”

“Mhm, I-I-“

“I’ve rendered you speechless with a touch?” You could feel his smirk against your skin, his teeth grazing over the other nipple slowly before running his tongue, then mouth over it.

“Ben—“

“Oh it is Ben now? I’m afraid I have been neglecting you. I swore enacted a very similar situation not but a week ago.” While his mouth continued to work your chest, his hands caressed the remainder of your body. The hand he had encouraged you to latch in his hair pulled as his own began to trace alongside your inner thighs. Every inch growing closer to the spot where you wanted him most.

“Jesus Christ.” This was a mumble in partial exaggeration over his boasting of himself and the familiar undoing of his touch.

“My dear, I’m certain I’m not a prophet but if you’d like to call me that, I have no complaints.”

“My gods Benedict! Just take your trousers off and fuck me already!”

His lips stopped moving, along with his hands, and he looked up at you once more. Marginally shocked by your tone, Benedict saw the seriousness in your lustful face and did not need to be asked twice. Sitting up between your legs, he began unlacing his black trousers with his sight not on the laces, but on you.

“Do you know how bloody hot that was to hear you say that?” His voice was low, a rumble compared to his usual light tone. “That you, this beautiful creature before me—“ the laces undone, he moved backwards instead of forwards on the chaise, looking unabashedly at your exposed body before him, and laid against the other side; “—wants me to fuck her?” You couldn’t even shake your head. Your heart was pounding, blood in your head agonizingly bursting with a need so great only one action could sooth it.

“But I don’t want that now.”

You sat up quickly, the blood rushing almost making you dizzy and furrowed your brows at him. He had no right, husband or not, to get you all worked up and do nothing about it. It wasn’t fair, which was something you had established early on in your relationship. Equals in this partnership, in the home, even if the world didn’t do the same.

“What—“

“I want you to fuck me.” Oh.

It was something you had only done once before. Innocent before marriage, Benedict had awakened an entire side of you that had gone unnoticed. Therefore with every passing month of your union, the two of you had explored more options than once but comfort was always something he resigned to you. Anxiety over pleasing your husband was always a worry; ingrained in you since your initial social season had begun, the pleasure of the husband came first. With Benedict, he made clear that wasn’t going to pass under his roof.

And the position had been something that spurred an unknown power within you. You controlled it. The situation was yours, he was under you. Benedict may have had the reigns working you up, but he gladly handed them over when the time was right.

Bounding up from your position, your maneuvered yourself over his long legs and into his lap. Although the ties were undone, Benedict remained covered as he took your hands in his, intertwining their fingers and helping you into position. His actions were subconsciously made. No matter the circumstance, Benedict always strove to help make it easier for you.

“You are so marvelous like this.”

“Are you going to continue singing my praises or must I finish what you’ve started alone in bed?” Benedict’s cheeky smile made his eyes shine.

“You’re in charge now, my love.”

Humming a reply, you worked one hand out of his grasp and brought it down to your hip. An artist always had a fascination with hands, fingers, the sensual lines they drew. Benedict watched as the one he was no longer holding peppered the hair on his chest, drawing a line down to the edge of his trousers and threatening to go further with one, gentle swoop. Agonizingly slow, your hand worked at pulling the fabric down to which he gladly lifted his hips to help. And then he was free.

Under those heavy-lidded eyes, Benedict could barely function as your hand wrapped around him, squeezing and pumping meticulously, rhythmically. The sensation of your hand moving upwards, it’s thumb diverting to swipe at his tip, smearing the pre-cum that beaded from the top. Not working him for long, you rolled your hips along his length, the sensation of him against your wet slit sending a tremble through your body.

This was all you had thought about in the forty minutes he had been drawing you. Benedict would be lying if the moment you were laid in the perfect position he hadn’t thought of anything else either.

Lining him up, you sunk down with an astounded moan as his hands held tightly to you. The ones intertwined aching from the force of pleasure. The heat of the room growing against the flames of the hearth; a sheen of perspiration surfacing on each of your bodies while you continued to roll your hips, lifting up only to be brought back down and filled once more.

The sounds of staggered breaths, arranged separate from his own. "Benedict... Gods..." Your forehead came to rest upon his own; slim, manicured fingers gliding against his skull sending goosebumps rising on his skin. His curls were easy to grip in the evening, the temperature in the room encouraging them to loop.

There was no rush in your movements or his response. The unhurried movements making your hearts beat as fast as if you had been running a race, as gentle as intimacy could be. Lit by luminescence of fire, burning deep within you both, Benedict could feel the pressure building within you, within himself. During the first year of this marriage, he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to read you as well as he wished. Now, as you near year two, he knew every sign; each breathless moan acting as a marker, the quiver of your fingers against the base of his neck where his shoulder began when your hands had been parted out of sheer need to hold onto something more sturdy.

"Come on, Love. Let go for me." Although your foreheads were resting against one another, you opened your eyes to his stormy blues so full of affection and adoration for you. Those feelings were reserved for you.

And you chased those feelings. The building, bottomless sensitivity that had been protected from your virginal mind per societies standards. The periodic sensations of you clenching around him threatened his demeanor in letting you fall apart first; your skin on fire beneath his fingertips. But you reached that end before he had a chance to lose his own. Your mouth going slack, eyes closing, and nails digging into the parts of him that you could grab.

Benedict watched your face which consigned him into his own oblivion ten seconds after your own. That utter intoxication, dazed euphoria that followed led you to both catching your breath and sluggish against one another. Benedict let you slump into his chest, his lower half still buried, softening inside of you, as he caressed your back gently.

If the chaise hadn't been digging into his back, he would have stayed like that forever. Content, happy in a blissful post-coitus for period of time.

"Did you truly sketch me or was your mind occupied with other thoughts?"

The coarse sound of your tired voice drew him back to reality. The fire dimming, signaling the end of one night and the early dawning of a new day in the household of Mr. and Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton. The sketchbook lie upside down with its leather cover pointing upwards instead of the drawing. He did draw you, though his confidence may have been fleeting when he claimed he could be the only one to capture your essence. Benedict's chronic sheepish response to his ability crept up on him.

"It is not as perfect as you deserve... I'll draw you at tea Sunday with Kate or Daphne instead." The softness of his tone couldn't cover the subconscious self-consciousness he had. You shook your head, sitting back up and lifting off of him. Immediately grabbing your robe, you made for the sketchbook against his vocal objections.

"No, please darling, it is not... the sketch is not..."

"Is not what Benedict? Finished? I care not if it is an outline of my eyebrow, it is still from your hand."

"It is not finished." The words came too late to protect his ego from the opinion of the person who motivated him more than life itself.

Delicate hands flipped the sketchbook over, feathering across its back. Your white silk covered body did nothing to distract him from your face. Not ten minutes ago it had been twisted in a sinful pleasure, now slightly wide-eyed and agape from the charcoal image before it. He tried to look away, but couldn't.

He cared about your opinion–no matter how stinging it may be.

"This is what you did in... forty minutes?"

"I told you it–"

"It's gorgeous, Ben."

Benedict's heart fluttered as his stomach did the moment he caught eyes with you across the ballroom floor two social seasons ago. A clichéd 'love at first sight' emotion that weaved its way into every inch of bone, every neuron of thought. Standing against the dying flame of his study, proclaiming his mere sketch a piece of art was gorgeous.

"Please do not lie about it because I am your husband."

"Have I ever lied to you about anything?" You let your eyes leave the paper, quirking a brow in his direction as he shuffled back into his trousers. In all honesty, you believed he captured your likeness as well as a mirror did. Perhaps more flattering than you thought yourself to even be. "You flatter me well with these lines."

"It is you who is diminishing the source of the materials beauty. Your lines are perfect. Your hair, eyes, and lips are perfect." Benedict approached you, taking the sketchbook away to throw it on the chair he had been drawing in.

"No drawing from my hand or another captures how lovely you are."

"You sure know how to make a woman swoon, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Only one matters."

Benedict was tall, towering over your figure as his arms wrapped around your shoulders and he placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I believe you had come to fetch me for bed..."

"Yes, well, I suppose the universe had other plans."

"Surely the bed has gone cold now... it would be a shame to leave it empty for the night." A dimpled smile emerged on his face at the suggestion. Benedict Bridgerton could be the two sides of the same coin, though this one, where he joked and prodded amusement with veiled hints at what he wanted to do in the privacy of your bedroom was your favorite. He could make you laugh, make you swoon, make you melt, but remain the man you so dearly loved.

"If only you'll lead the way, my dear husband."

"Anything for you, my dear wife."

Aww so sweet and lovely! Thank you for sharing!

forgive me - benedict bridgerton x reader

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: friends to lovers, a lot of pining, some slight steaminess but it’s just built on intense longing and intense kissing

A/N: My first Bridgerton fic, which is slightly out of my comfort zone but has been a total joy to write! Feel free to send in any ideas you might want to see me write in the future. Hope you enjoy a good old friends to lovers confession with our boy Benedict <3

—

“You cannot seriously be considering such a thing? I shan’t hear of it, brother!”

It could never be said that the Bridgerton household was a dull one, a fact that you had witnessed firsthand ever since you were a child. Each time your mother had been invited round for tea with Lady Bridgerton, which seemed to happen far more frequently than was truly proper, you would attend too, following quietly behind her skirt. You would always begin with a shy smile towards the Bridgerton matriarch but once you were encouraged to join the children in the gardens, your inhibitions soon deserted you.

When you were first invited, Daphne and Eloise were just slightly too young to play with you properly and so you were forced to form friendships with the three eldest brothers. Whilst Anthony had largely grown out of such youthful things as friendship and Colin had travelled so extensively that your exchange of letters had grown thin, there was one Bridgerton brother that had provided a constant ever since childhood.

Lees verder

how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app

"eric is so benedict coded omgg, they are literally the same person!!!!" ok then make a little mermaid au fanfic 🤨🤨 whats stopping u? what is stopping this fandom from writing a scruptilisious piece where benedict just pines endlessly, this man was BUILT for it

don't care if its x reader or if its with Sophie just GIVE IT TO ME. please <3

very many thoughts, half of them are a Moulin Rouge inspired au with benedict bridgerton with an opera singer!reader/oc

the other half are an aemond oneshot based on the song hellfire from the hunchback of notredame with aemond absolutely obsessed with a velaryon!reader, daughter of rhaenyra and harwin strong

Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???

Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE

I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

My mom to her friends, my aunts, and literally everyone she knows: Yeah, my kid is so smart. She is on her phone a lot of the time, but it's not like you guys think, She is not like how kids nowadays are, She reads a lot of books on her phone!!

Me, a fanfic reader who can survive off nothing but just words and day dreams herself to sleep:

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

MAIN MASTERLIST

My masterlist for everyone I write for currently, there will be more added later on. Feel free to request anything, I hope you all enjoy :))

Law and Order: SVU

Olivia Benson

Amanda Rollins

Criminal Minds

Emily Prentiss

JJ

Penelope Garcia

Greys Anatomy

Addison Montgomery

Callie Torres

Arizona Robbins

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

Violet Bridgerton

Bridgerton Sister

Once Upon A Time

Regina Mills

Emma Swan

I squealed out loud at this notification

Garden of Secrets [1] - Thorns

A.N: Let’s start my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤ And thanks to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the story! ❤

Summary: First impressions can go either way.

Warnings: Mentions of unhappy family life and fighting, Regency era society and social rules.

Word Count: 3400

You had never been to a circus before, but as much as you’d heard, you were quite certain it was similar to being introduced to the high society of London.

Extravagant clothes, announcements and performing tricks with a dash of danger.

If endless chatter and gossip and constant criticism fell under the category of danger, at least.

“Oh how I’m glad it’s over,” you murmured as the carriage slowed down, then came to a stop in front of your house. “It’s almost a blessing one only debuts once if you ask me.”

Keep reading

Garden of Secrets [2] - Nightshade

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support to the first chapter my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter! 

Summary: It’s a bad idea to tempt fate.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, slow burn.

Word Count: 4100

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t that you were someone who didn’t like to be out of their comfort zone.

Correction; you were definitely someone who didn’t like to be out of their comfort zone but that was hardly your fault, now that stepping out of your comfort zone meant being thrown into a battlefield with merely a knife in hand, or the social equivalent of it.

Also known as London’s marriage mart.

Keep reading

Garden of Secrets [3] - Roses

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Some invitations can lead to more than a simple dinner.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, slow burn.

Word Count: 4300

Series Masterlist

In your defense, from a completely objective point, nothing had really happened that night. It was merely a chat between two people who happened to be within each other’s vicinity in a rather crowded room. Just because you were expected to get married sometime soon did not mean a single conversation would lead to anything, let alone anything romantic.

But the difficult thing was?

Apparently you were the only person who knew that.

“Uncle,” you said as you walked into your uncle’s study, making him look up from his papers. “I will pay you money if you let me hide here.”

Keep reading