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interstellarflare · 2 days

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A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART TWO-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. I would also like to apologise for the previous tag list not working! It has been fixed now! Gif by @fifty5hades

|PART ONE|

The horses had been restless ever since you had arrived in town. Lady Worthington, Elizabeth and Mary had been traversing between multiple shops for hours now, the three of them making multiple trips back to stuff every inch of the carriage full of boxes and bags that contained every expensive item of clothing imaginable.

The horses flinched every time the carriage doors slammed closed, their heads lifting upward as they were startled by the harsh sound. But after a few gentle pats and sweetly whispered words, the two black geldings calmed down and went back to their idling. You released a deep sigh, gently ruffling the horses’ mane as you people watched. Lords and Lady’s strolled by, some of them sneering at your dirty and slightly big dress, but you didn’t mind. You never had minded.

Sure, these clothes weren’t kept in line with their usual standard upkeep, but it was all that you had. Clothes were better than none at all. You had been so caught up tending to the horses, that you hadn’t noticed the figure creeping up behind you along the cobblestones. You jumped as the culprit tickled your sides, releasing a loud shriek as you spun around to meet the face of a young girl you knew all too well.

“Oh god, Eloise! Don’t do that!” You cried, the young Bridgerton cackling at your fright. She smiled, lightly punching your shoulder as she cried “Oh come on, this is the first time I have seen you in weeks! Does that wicked woman lock you up in a tower or something?”

“She might as well…” You replied sharply, gripping the harness of the horse closest to you “I haven’t seen the sun in days.”

“Don’t you joke about that, you know I will actually have my brothers come and save you from that hell” Eloise teased, pointing her finger at you with a stern expression. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as a small yet grateful smile graced your lips.

Eloise Bridgerton, the fifth eldest in the Bridgerton family, had figured out who you were the first moment she had met you. She was smart and witty, and had instantly put two and two together, and had no problem reminding you whenever she ran into you on the street.

The daughter of one of the most prominent Lords on the ton, suddenly vanishes after her father’s unfortunate and sudden death, running away due to the grief and sadness at the loss of her parents. Then not two days later, a new maid is hired. The ton wasn’t the biggest fan of the Worthington family, according to Eloise. The horror stories she had heard from Daphne and her brothers were more or less disturbing to say the least. She had never met your stepsisters, and prayed that she never would, but of course with the latest season coming up, that might be a little hard.

You turned to face Eloise fully, leaning back slightly as the horse’s head chased after your attention, obscuring your view slightly. “And just what are you doing in town? I thought you would have been at home preparing for Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?”

Eloise groaned loudly, slumping against the side of the carriage with a loud thump. You laughed softly at her behaviour, watching as she rolled her eyes and turned her gaze skyward. “Though I so wish that I could stay at home and read the night away, my mother has made it clear that I am to find something nice to wear for this evening. I am being chaperoned by my brother-“

“Oh?” You asked teasingly, chuckling at the glare that formed on her face “and which brother do you have the pleasure of accompanying you tonight?”

“Oh, you are so funny…” Eloise grumbled, crossing her arms over her front with a huff “…I am being chaperoned right now! ‘So that I may not run away’, according to Anthony.”

Your laughter echoed throughout the street, as Eloise rushed forward and begged you to keep quiet. You held your stomach and wiped a stray tear from your eye, releasing the horse’s harness as you did so. “Oh Eloise, I will say I do not envy you-“

“Oh but I envy you! But remember you used to be a part of this life”

“The only ball I went to was when I was a child, and even then, I don’t remember that much of it”.

Eloise scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “To be blessed with such fortune as you have, though I suppose being related to Lady Worthington can be accustomed to being related to a toad-“

“Shhhhhhh!” You hushed, pressing a finger to your lips as Eloise smirked “Don’t say such things out loud! They could be back any minute-“

“Oh, I don’t care much. That woman is despicable-“

You watched her eyes widen, her words dying out as a small squeak replaced her sentence. Focused on the space behind you, you turned quickly and froze, suddenly feeling rather small and very aware of your current dress.

Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount himself stood before you. He stood tall, hands clasped together behind his back as his deep brown eyes flickered between the two of you. You suddenly felt self-conscious the longer he stared at you, but you were the first to look away as you bowed your head, and once again returned to tending the horses.

“Must you always be difficult, dear sister” The Viscount spoke sarcastically, a small huff escaping him as he clenched his jaw in annoyance. You heard Eloise groan, “Must you always insist on stopping and chatting with every Lord you see? Surely it gets rather tiring”.

“It is polite, Eloise…” he spoke through gritted teeth “need I remind you that your prospects this season rely on me helping you to find a suitable husband-“

“Ah yes, because Daphne’s season went so unbelievably well. Tell me dear brother, how was it that Lord Berbrooke became our dear sister’s only suitor for some time, hm? Who, pray tell, was responsible for that match, until our lovely Daphne married the Duke of Hastings?”

The scowl that formed on the Viscount’s face caused an unpleasant shiver to run down your spine, but you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as Eloise stuck out her tongue in retaliation to her brother’s disapproving look.

You turned your gaze upward and met the Viscount’s eyes. He was looking you over, his scowl turning into a gentle smile as he sighed heavily. “You’ll have to forgive my sister, unfortunately she seems to forget her manners when in public” he spoke informatively, sneering at Eloise as she rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath.

You shrugged your shoulders, “There’s nothing to forgive, my Lord. I am well acquainted with your sister’s antics I’m afraid-“

“Don’t you dare take his side Y/n!” Eloise screamed, stomping her foot like and annoyed child. You laughed a reply, noticing the man beside you chuckling alongside you “We both know you’re not the biggest fan of society Eloise, I am simply stating fact-“

“I never thought you would betray me like this…how could you” She spoke softly, clutching her chest in mock-hurt as she dramatically slid down the side of the carriage, coming to rest on the step below the door. You heard the Viscount laugh, “Perhaps Miss Y/n here as a point. You will have to be on your best behaviour tonight, so I suggest that perhaps you should start practicing your etiquette before then-“

“You are both the worst” Eloise grumbled, standing up from the carriage step and slowly walking towards the store front before her. “If anyone needs me, I will be inside. The two of you can gossip about me at your own leisure while I suffer numerous dress-fittings inside” She whined, opening the door and disappearing inside.

You once again turned your attention back to the Viscount, looking up at him shyly as you fiddled with your hands in front of you. “Your sister does mean well, you know. Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I am lucky to have a friend like her, especially at my status.”

He smiled at your words, his eyes meeting yours and softening on your form. You felt nervous under his gaze, with how he was looking at you with such interest. No Lord had ever looked at you like this, nor even recognised your presence. It was nice.

“I know she has the best intentions, yet it is the way that she goes about them that sometimes hinders her reputation” He replied, sighing heavily as he watched you intently for your reply. You shrugged “Well, she is a part of one of the most famous and revered families on the ton, she is constantly under the public’s watchful eye. What is the harm of having some freedoms here and there?”.

Your question was innocent enough, but you noticed the Viscount’s brow furrow as he thought on your words. His gaze fell to the cobblestones in contemplation, before returning to your figure with a mischievous smile. “You certainly know a lot of the ton. Tell me, how do you know so much?”.

Your eyes widened and a small blush crept onto your cheeks as you stuttered, “W-Well, Lady Worthington and her daughters discuss these sorts of matters quite openly-“

“Wait, Lady Worthington?” he asked, his eyes suddenly wide with what you could only assume was fear. You eyed the Viscount suspiciously, tilting your head to the side as you spoke. “Yes?...What of them?”

“Oh no, nothing. It has only now just dawned on me that you are the same Y/n that Colin mentioned when he returned from the Worthington household after calling on Miss Elizabeth, and the same Y/n that Eloise calls a friend. I feel rather stupid for not realising it until now.”

A smile formed on your lips as you dismissed his revelation, “Well, I’m not the most memorable person around, I am merely a maid-“

“A maid who has the ear of my sister…and now mine I suppose.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your cheeks once again flushing a bright red as you turned to face him. “You’re…you’re not ashamed to be speaking so openly with me?” you asked him softly, your eyes wide with shock as you waited anxiously for his reply.

The Viscount shook his head, lightly lifting his shoulders as he hummed. “Should I be? Anyone who works for Lady Worthington has my sympathies.”

Perhaps he would be ashamed, if he knew who you really were.

You were left speechless, unsure of how to reply to his words as your mouth fell open and closed. Before you could think of a reply, the store door burst open to reveal Eloise, who now looked incredibly pale and distraught. Both you and the Viscount shared a look of confusion.

“Are you alright Eloise?” You asked cautiously. She looked between you and her brother, breathing deeply in a panic.

“My dear brother, if you wish to keep your marriage prospects hidden until the ball tonight…I suggest we run” Eloise replied breathlessly, rushing over to her brother and taking his arm in hers.

“What are you talking about-“

“Oh for the love of god, Lady Worthington and her daughters are inside! We should run, now!”

Your eyes met Eloise’s, and then those of her brother who were just as wide, perhaps even more terrified. Without thinking, your shoved both Eloise and the Viscount down the street, laughing as you did so. “Go! Don’t become trapped as I have!”

The Viscount’s laughter caused your heart to soar, as he waved a quick goodbye while Eloise dragged him away and around the corner, right on time as Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth stormed out of the store in a huff. You returned to stand by the horses, trying desperately to contain your laughter as the three of them stumbled towards the carriage, boxes in hand, and struggling to squeeze into the already overstuffed carriage.

“I suppose you found everything you were after, my lady?” You replied quickly, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from chuckling, “should we perhaps return home?”

Lady Worthington’s icy gaze settled on your form, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Did I tell you to speak? I think not. Just go, we have a lot to do before the ball.”

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noellawrites · 2 days

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Could you please do yandere bridgerton characters react to finding out reader just married them to hide the fact she is pregnant with someone else’s child pleaseeee?

ohhh this is an interesting situation! thank you for the ask :)

—

Anthony Bridgerton is beyond pissed off. Not only have you made a fool of him but his entire family, too. He will push you down the maid's staircase and ensure you lose the baby. The quicker he can fill you up with his baby Bridgerton brood, the better.

Benedict Bridgerton is amused, if anything. He finally finds someone not entirely bothersome to wed and you're already carrying another man's baby? He will likely keep you hidden away for the duration of your pregnancy, and once you deliver, the baby will be sent away to live with a family in the country and you will never see it again.

Colin Bridgerton is frustrated. He's already been tricked almost the exact same way by Marina Thompson, and now you, his wife? He will most definitely consult his brothers in confidence. Anthony suggests poisoning you. Benedict finds it hilarious. Colin will let his brothers take care of it, and you probably won't see any of the Bridgertons again.

#noelle answers #bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton x reader #yandere bridgerton #dark bridgerton x reader #dark bridgerton #yandere bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader

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bosbas · 22 hours

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Chapter 12: I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.5k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, insane amounts of pining, idiots in love!!, in their friends era... or are they?, the slow burn is slowww burningggg i'm so sorry

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: I am BACK sorry for my absence I promise I won't leave for that long again <3

July 12, 1816 – It seems that the summer heat is not the only thing causing a stir within the ton. Recently, the Montclair and Bridgerton families have been seen in each other’s company more frequently than usual. Could there be a more permanent union on the horizon?

Lord Philippe Montclair and Mr. Colin Bridgerton have been spotted in deep conversation on multiple occasions, discussing matters that appear far more serious than the usual lighthearted banter one would expect. Indeed, whispers suggest that their discussions have involved future business ventures and mutual interests, signaling a burgeoning camaraderie between the two gentlemen.

Regardless, the warmth between the two families is palpable, leading this author to wonder if we shall soon hear the sound of wedding bells. Stay vigilant, dear readers. Though no one shall stay more vigilant than this author.

As you walked home from the modiste with Eloise by your side, you noted the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves high atop the trees surrounding you. You had suggested a shortcut back to your respective homes, opting to go through the park rather than the busy streets, and you were mostly thankful for the silence of the greenery around you. Mostly.

“So, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” asked Eloise expectantly, gently nudging your shoulder with hers.

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut, already dreading the conversation, and the evening, to come. “Yes, Mother has been quite insistent that I go. I think she’d kill me if I asked to stay home one more time.”

“I didn’t know we were that bad,” joked Eloise, only a hint of resentment in her voice.

“Not at all!” you rushed to defend yourself, cringing at the fact that one of your dearest friends was upset with you. “You know that it’s just… Well, I’m sure Colin told you everything. I really can’t bear to face him.”

In all honesty, Eloise’s annoyance was warranted. You had spent the past two weeks avoiding the Bridgertons at all costs, only seeing Eloise at balls or in your own home. The only reason you had gone to Bridgerton House today was because you and Eloise were leaving immediately afterward to go get new dresses, and you were certain you wouldn’t run into Colin.

Not only were you still terribly embarrassed by your assumptions of Colin's character, but you also found yourself strangely drawn to him. Now that nothing prevented you from actually liking him, and now that you knew that he was not a horrible person like you had previously thought, you were in a bit of a conundrum. Colin Bridgerton had charmed you, and you knew that if you let yourself, you could very well start to grow feelings for him.

And that wouldn’t do. No, it absolutely wouldn’t. For starters, the two of you had never managed to get along anyway, so you had no idea how you would even live in relative peace were you to have a future. Even so, your father would never approve, no matter what Lady Whisteldown was alluding to. And so Colin was out of the question as a husband or really anything other than a friend.

But while you had been meticulously maneuvering through your social outings to avoid her family, Eloise had slowly been losing patience. She had tolerated whatever had been going on between you and Colin at the beginning of the season, but it was high time that you stopped acting so childish. Especially after Anthony and Kate’s ball, where the two of you had already apologized for your misunderstanding and subsequent feud.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen him since that night,” scolded Eloise, crossing her arms in a huff. Then, in a humorous tone, she added, “He doesn’t actually look that bad with a broken nose if that’s what you’re worried about. The swelling has gone down considerably.”

Not able to help yourself, you let out a small snort and smiled at your friend. “No, it’s not that. I’m just so embarrassed. Oh heavens, even just thinking about it I can feel my face getting hot. He did tell you about it, right?”

“Yes,” responded Eloise, giving you a very pointed look. “He was very excited about the fact that you didn’t actually hate him. He wouldn’t stop talking about it for two days. Though now I wonder if that really is the case, given your behavior.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned, putting your head in your hands in desperation.

“He was quite embarrassed as well, Y/N,” Eloise reminded you gently. “I don’t see why you can barely stand to be in the same room as him even now.”

“I just-” you started, finding it difficult to explain why you had been so against seeing him, or any of his family, really, after the most recent ordeal with Lord Barlow.

But Eloise wasn’t letting you get away with it any longer. She slowed down her previously brisk walk, looking straight into your eyes as she gestured for you to continue.

“I just wasted so much time and energy fighting with him and I’m so ashamed that your family saw that side of me. I didn’t even know I could be that unpleasant! And to make matters worse, it was all for nothing since I was completely in the wrong.”

“Not completely,” Eloise mused. Colin had been quite kind to you in his retelling of the events, and Eloise was inclined to believe her brother’s account.

With a sigh, your friend turned to face you. “I wish you had told me what you thought of him because I would have either helped you realize your mistake or helped you kill him.”

You laughed again, shaking your head as you realized how lucky you were to have Eloise in your life. Linking arms with her, you patted her hand as you explained, “I was just terrified of the recourse. My parents were so insistent that I ‘act ladylike’ that I was scared of revealing I had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men. And besides, I didn’t want to ruin your perception of your brother.”

“Well, regardless, it will all be resolved at dinner tonight, seeing how you’ll be in attendance.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips.

“I certainly hope so.”

---

As you walked into the dining room, a soft smile on your lips as you spoke with Kate, Colin’s breath was stolen from his body. He already hadn’t been expecting to see you, already growing accustomed to having you avoid him, but seeing you look as beautiful as you did now was completely doing him in.

“Y/N,” he whispered from across the room, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

Feeling an elbow digging into his ribs, Colin turned to see Benedict, smirking as he watched his younger brother. “Might I suggest pulling yourself together if you don’t want to scare her away again?”

“Be quiet,” hissed Colin, but he ran a hand through his hair to regain his composure anyway.

“Benedict!” you greeted, delighted at finally seeing him for so long. “And Colin!” you added, hoping your voice didn’t reveal the nervousness you were feeling.

“Lovely to see you again,” said Benedict brightly, squeezing your shoulder.

Then, feigning some obligation or another, the second Bridgerton slipped out of the dining room to join the rest of your families, leaving you alone with Colin. Benedict had been terribly obvious, but the resulting awkwardness that enveloped you and Colin kept you from noticing his brash exit.

“I’m happy you’re here,” Colin spoke, almost timidly. Then, speaking very quickly, he added, “I was fairly confused when I didn’t hear from you for two weeks, but I didn’t want to call on you because we agreed to just be friends and I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression. Though now that I think about it, that might have been the decent thing to do."

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Colin looked down at the floor as he waited for your response.

“Not at all!” you rushed out, wanting to reassure him. “It was my fault entirely. I apologize for not speaking with you sooner, I was just a tad embarrassed, as you can probably imagine.”

Colin’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, feeling at ease now that he was certain you didn’t spontaneously hate him again.

“You were embarrassed? I rather think I should be the one feeling that way,” he laughed. “I still find it hard to believe you could have thought I was that... horrid for so long.”

You put your hands over your face and shook your head. “I can’t believe it either,” you groaned.

Sensing you were getting worked up again, Colin instinctively put a comforting arm around your shoulders, pressing you to him. “No, it’s quite alright. I promise I was just…”

Then, suddenly realizing just how close he was holding you to him, Colin stepped away quickly. Instead of apologizing and drawing even more attention to his overstepping, he settled for clearing his throat awkwardly, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out to you again.

“It was all in jest, I swear,” promised Colin, realizing he had never finished his earlier sentence.

Before you could respond, Violet walked into the dining room, followed by your family.

“Hello, Y/N!” she greeted you, reaching over to put a hand on your forearm in greeting. “I’m thrilled you’re here! We missed you last week.”

You smiled gratefully back at her, internally chastising yourself for ever wanting to avoid this wonderful family. All because you were scared of facing Colin, who, as it turned out, had a singular talent for making you feel at ease.

“You’re seated here, next to Colin,” indicated Violet, gesturing toward a seat near the end of the dining table.

“Oh,” you breathed out, not expecting to have to be in such proximity to him for the whole night. Realizing you had been impossibly rude, you added, “Thank you very much, I’m sure we’ll have lots to catch up on.”

Four courses later, you were having the time of your life. You were sitting between Francesca and Colin, and both had been keeping you endlessly entertained as you ate. Speaking to Colin came so naturally that you wondered how the two of you had ever managed to fight so much without ever having a proper conversation, save for one or two. It seemed impossible now, the forgone tension between you. Especially when you had to actively ensure that you were talking to Francesca, too, rather than just Colin. But he was just so easy to talk to, and you simply had so much in common that it was proving quite difficult to focus on anything else.

“Are you excited for your season next year?” you asked Francesca, leaning away from Colin so you could concentrate on speaking to her.

“I suppose I’m looking forward to having something of my own,” she responded after chewing thoughtfully. “An experience of my own, that is. It’ll be quite the luxury, especially being from a family as large as mine. Did you ever feel that way?”

You hummed, thinking back on your season. “I felt that way at the beginning, to be sure. But having seen my older sister’s fairytale romance and having a season that was nowhere near that had me wishing for a season similar to hers in the end.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that-” Francesca started, having forgotten your ordeal with Lord Barlow.

You waved her apology away, smiling warmly at her. “Not to worry, I’m quite well-adjusted now. Perhaps next season will be better, though I’m not sure how unique it will be since I’m heading back to Spain, just as Isabelle did.”

“Are you really leaving?” asked Francesca, partially in shock that you were leaving after only one season. “But-”

“Y/N does,” came a loud voice next to you.

Confused, you turned around to face Colin, who seemed to have gone quite red in the face.

“I hadn’t realized I was speaking that loud,” he said bashfully, nervous now that most everyone at the table was looking at him expectantly. “Anthony was only talking about how I use the night sky to navigate my crew when I travel, and I was pointing out that you are quite knowledgeable in that area as well,” he explained, looking at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

Anthony, who had been at the other side of the table, was struggling to contain his laughter.

“I had no idea Y/N knew so much about the stars,” commented Violet, looking directly at Colin as she did so, an unreadable expression on her face.

Highly uncomfortable at being the center of attention for this particular reason, the third Bridgerton internally cringed and gulped his wine, hoping to wash down some of the discomfort as he did so.

“We’ve only talked about it a few times, but she does seem to be quite the expert,” he said finally.

Feeling charitable, Louis chimed in to change the subject, “I know I’ve been victim to her hour-long lectures about which constellations are visible at any given point in time. Were you thinking of traveling soon, Anthony?”

Letting out a sigh of relief now that the attention was no longer fixed on his thinly veiled infatuation with you, Colin cast a fleeting smile in your direction, eager to gauge your reaction.

But you only smiled amusedly at him, snickering as he gripped his fork and knife tightly in his hands with leftover tension.

“Tell Louis I say thank you,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “It’ll get to his head,” you argued.

And Colin’s smile in return was so charming, so roguish, and so handsome that you were tempted to forget your agreement to be friends right then and there.

Ah, that was why you had been avoiding him, you reminded yourself. Colin was far too charismatic for his own good. For your own good, rather.

But you had to remind yourself of what your parents –and society– expected you to find. A man with a title and a fortune. And that was decidedly not a Mr. Colin Bridgerton.

Clearing your throat, you turned away from Colin to face Francesca again.

Friends, you reminded yourself. You were friends with Colin.

---

The Montclair brothers sat in their father’s study, brandy in hand as they so often did after evening dinners ran long and they needed to wind down. Supper with the Bridgertons had been lovely, but the boys had important matters to discuss with their father. Well, important matters to you. But important nonetheless.

“Que pensez-vous de Colin?” asked Jacques, trying to seem nonchalant (What do you think of Colin?).

“Bah, il est assez gentil, mais il est vraiment amoureux,” came your father’s gruff response before he took a long sip of brandy, rubbing his temples (Well, he’s nice enough, but he’s definitely in love).

“Quoi? Amoureux de qui?” pressed Philippe, feigning innocence as if this wasn’t exactly what the brothers wanted Lord Montclair to notice (What? In love with who?).

“De Y/N, bien sûr,” replied your father, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world (With Y/N, of course).

That was the tipping point for Louis, who apparently was the only person in the world who wasn't instantly attuned to Colin’s feelings. Forgetting why he and his brothers were so eager to meet with their father and talk about Colin, the youngest Montclair brother set his glass of brandy down in exasperation.

“Putain, comment tout le monde a pu voir ça?” (Damnit, how did everyone else see that?)

---

Laughing quietly at a comment Colin had whispered in your ear, you found yourself truly enjoying a ball for the first time in a very long time. Now that you were past all the hatred and subsequent awkwardness, it was lovely to spend an evening with Colin by your side.

This might have been the first ball you had been to that you hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time sulking at. It was, to say the very least, quite freeing.

Not to mention the absolute entertainment that was watching the third Bridgerton rush from ambitious mama to eligible lady and back to another mama as he attempted to please everyone. You had only been here an hour and he’d already danced three times and spoken with at least four women you knew for a fact he had no interest in.

“Ah, Mr. Bridgerton, it’s lovely to see you again,” came a voice behind you.

Both of you turned around to face Miss Anne McCall, who was looking at Colin expectantly. Amused, you raised your eyebrows at him, too. You could bet your family’s entire fortune that Colin had promised her a dance at some point tonight.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, briefly touching your arm. “Excuse me just a moment, Y/N.”

You nodded, unable to respond because you were momentarily overtaken by the feel of his hand on you. An unfamiliar warmth radiated to you, and you almost stumbled as you tried to regain your bearings.

Looking out across the ballroom, you spotted Colin smiling and laughing as he danced with Miss McCall, who was looking absolutely enamored as he spun her around. You smiled to yourself, glad that your rivalry with him had been resolved and you could simply appreciate the fact that he was a lovely person. Maybe some night you would be the one he was spinning around the ballroom.

Shaking your head to will the mental image away, you made your way to the other side of the ballroom, needing to clear your head.

However, a hand gripped yours and you turned around, surprised. Colin’s relieved eyes met yours and he pulled you closer to him, though still allowing an appropriate distance between you two in case anyone was observing.

“A turn about the ballroom?” he suggested, eyes pleading.

Once again taken aback by how aware you were of his skin on yours, you could only nod, allowing him to place your hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I think I’ve spoken to too many people tonight. If I have to laugh politely at another conversation I’m certain I will dissolve right where I'm standing.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, squeezing his arm. “You don’t have to do it, you know?”

“Do what?”

“That,” you said, gesturing toward the dancefloor full of couples waltzing. “You’re allowed to say no.”

Colin frowned, thoughtful. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

“Why not?” you pressed.

“I- I don’t know, I suppose. It feels like it’s what I should be doing. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Hmm, not particularly. I’ve said no to plenty of men wanting to dance with me, you included,” you nudged him playfully.

“That doesn’t really count, though. Because you’re… you. It doesn’t matter if you say no to every single man asking you to dance.”

“Doesn’t it? You’re also you. So, it doesn’t matter either.”

“No, I mean that…I don’t know what I mean. I suppose that people would still like you even if you said no a lot.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took in what Colin was saying.

“People would still like you if you said no every once in a while, you know? I know I would.”

Colin shook his head. “It’s still different!” Then, softening his voice, he added, “Because you have… Or rather, because I just don’t have any remarkable qualities beyond people finding me charming or affable.”

“Colin,” you scolded, rolling your eyes. Then, seeing that he was quite serious, your expression sobered. “Of course you have value beyond how much people like you. My word, Colin. You are so clever and so well-traveled. You can orient yourself on a map at first glance, and I doubt you would ever get lost at sea. You know most constellations visible from London, and I don’t even know how many beyond that.”

“Alright, I see your point,” he laughed, secretly wishing you would continue speaking forever. Colin was practically preening at your praise, and he so desperately wished you could want him the way he wanted you. “What do you suggest I do at balls, then, if I'm not dancing with every single member of the ton?”

“Well, you could start by only dancing with people you want to dance with.”

“In that case, would you like to dance with me?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” insisted Colin. Then, after a pause, he added, “Friends can dance together," a twinge of regret in his chest as he said the words.

But that seemed to placate you, and you placed your hand in his. “I suppose they do.”

With a shaky breath, you prepared for the next few minutes you would spend in Colin’s arms, not quite sure you or your heart were ready to look into his mesmerizing eyes and not fall completely head over heels for him.

But one smile from him, and you were completely at ease. One dance couldn’t hurt, right?

—

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moments-on-film · 2 days

Text

The door closed softly, mere feet away but tonight, somehow an ocean apart. She sat on their bed, tired, and confused. She looked at his pillow on his side of the bed which would remain unslept on tonight. In the sitting room he sat on the settee in disbelief. Upright, alert, and with red rimmed eyes full of unshed tears.

They had quarrelled, the kind of quarrel where parts get revealed that are rarely seen. Parts that remain hidden, unless provoked— leap to the surface with such urgency and truth they cannot be denied.

It was late. The ticking of the mantle clock and ever present reminder. Had it ever been this quiet? They were both exhausted. He listened intently until her heard her get into bed and blow out the candle. His worry for her wellbeing was consuming him. He truly hoped she would be able to fall asleep.

Sleep, however, would not find him tonight. Worry burned in his chest. As much as she may protest, he promised himself he would look after her. The urge to protect her and keep her safe so overwhelmed him that he pushed the settee back several inches to be closer to the door, closer to her. She may be upset, but he would ensure nothing, not one thing, would be able to get close enough to hurt her. Not tonight. Not ever.

Shortly after the clock struck 1, he heard the unmistakable sound of the coverlet, starched and heavy, shifting on the bed in the room. He could swear he heard her call his name. He froze and turned his head to the door and listened with held breath. The sound of soft cries sent a chill through his spine. She was crying. He had seen her upset but never heard the sounds of her crying before. His stomach dropped. The sounds moved the very ground beneath him. “Colin…Colin…COLin.” She choked out his name in a strangled whimper and in 2 quick strides he had flung open the door and rushed to her side.

She was having a terrible nightmare. The bedding wrapped around her body and her tangled hair splayed out on the pillow. The light from the moon cast a white triangular shaped glow on the bed, which only served to highlight her tear stained face and pained expression. He sat on the bed ever so gently and picked up her hand and held it in his. “Pen, shhhhh, Pen, Pen, I’m here. I’m here now”, he whispered softly.

They may have gone to bed upset but all of that had vanished the instant he realized she was in pain and he felt his heart break seeing her in such distress. It pained him beyond belief.

Again she thrashed and moaned and whimpers escapes her lips. “Shhhhh, shhhh, shhh. It’s alright my darling, it’s alright.” Colin steadied her with the lightest touch on both her shoulders and gently shook her.

“Shhh, my love. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. Wake up now—-I’m here. Follow my voice back to me, my love.”

She fluttered her eyes open and choked out a sob. “Colin, oh Colin..”

He leaned down to her face, gently picked up and held her, rocking her in his arms.

“I’m here. Colin’s here. It’s alright my love, you are alright. Shhh shh shhh”, he murmured softly into her hair.

She held onto him tightly and cried. He kissed her hair and rubbed in slow motions up and down her back, shushing her and whispering soothing words in a low voice and rocking her gently. They stayed like this, covered in starry moonlight, for several minutes as she cried, while he used his body, his hands, and his voice to comfort her and help calm her down.

Her choked sobs wrenched at Colin’s heart. Worried tears filled his eyes. His brow set in a tight grimace as clucks escaped his lips every time their bodies both swayed with a new wave of cries. “You are being so nice to me”, she cried. “I know you are mad and yet you are being so nice to me.”

“Shhhh my darling. Hush now. I’m not mad at you. Not now. Not ever. You had a nightmare. I’m here to look after you. I told you..I will always look after you—no matter what.”

This set off a fresh wave of tears.

“CoLin…”

“Oh Penelope, oh, my most precious angel. Whatever could have happened to pain you in this way?”

“I cannot tell you”, she sobbed.

He pulled back so he could see her face. He pulled a handkerchief out of his waistcoat and wiped and patted away her tears and under her nose. Then he held her face in both hands.

“Yes, you can, my love. You can tell me and you can give it to me to share with you. You’re not alone. I am here. Your pain is my pain. Please, Pen, whatever it is, let me help you. Let me bear it with you.”

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #lady whistledown #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #emotional whump

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yourplasticlittlespastic · 11 hours

Note

Ooof, Benedict with a breeding kink? Bestie, thats SO TRUE! If you have more on this, please please please share

Bestie this goes for you nasty <3 - Part of the E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ Series

To be Here

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: +18 topics, very explicit imagery stuff

Notes: More of married life! Solid storyline but with nasty stuff too. I am already making a general Maserlist and this story's ML. Thank you for reading! Who is ready to see Benny baby heartbroken bc of Tilly Arnold? Don't worry, Sophie is coming!!

WC: 5.7K

Taglist: @fallout-girl219 @ravenwtfbro @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dollarstore-lydia-deetz @mmmunson

Benedict often thought about how he reached this point in his life. It seemed only yesterday he was a rebel of society's rules, a hedonistic gentleman between the crowd, the funny joke amongst the Bridgertons and the forever seeker of what his siblings were finding.

But now as he took one teaspoon of sugar and dropped it into a tea cup and avoided the milk at all costs he wondered how he got so smitten. He made sure to twirl the spoon with all his energy, he wanted you to drink it and beam at the flavour and as he looked through the window he spotted your curious stroll outside.

Your hair was loose, beautifully curved by the ends and your blue dress with its straight skirt and your short sleeves with a squared neckline made you look so tranquil as he always knew you needed to feel. He snorted however at your insistence; you walked again to the rose bushes and started picking some flowers that fell into a basket by your arm.

He silently stared at your figure as you took more flowers from a corner and then you laid by a blanket spread by the grass and laid the roses over them. You were creating something. The wind was playing with your hair as you moved, Benedict knew that even without a paintbrush he could spend an eternity looking at you.

He saw the way you took the flowers and split the petals, you organized them -by size, he learned- and then you took a small mortar and pestle and started crushing them. His mind went immediately to a few weeks ago, the day when he was painting in his studio and you entered with your smile and giggles telling him you might have dropped some of your pigmented materials in your dress and oh my when he turned... your complete chest was damped in whatever mixture you concocted and the violet water was spreading through your skirt.

He solved it by taking your dress off. It was the most beneficial mistake he could ever think of.

He looked down and "Damn it" the tea grew cold so he took it for himself and made sure to make another one only for you

When he stepped outside he breathed the humid air of Wiltshire and squinted at the sunlight.

“That dim studio of yours is damaging your eyesight” you mumbled not even staring up at him

Benedict smirked and sat in front of you, laying the new tea cup beside you. You were still focused on your flowers but the smell of the chamomile reached your nose.

You looked up and met the clear eyes of the loveliest man on Earth “Hi”

“Hello. Drink now before it gets cold again”

“Again?”

“Never you mind” he gave you the tea cup and waited until you sipped the warm liquid and he felt proud of doing it good for you as you smiled “Good?”

“Yes, thank you”

“What do you get here?”

“Nothing special”

“Tell me”

You shrugged “I never got my hands on any type of cosmetics, and now I want to see if I can do my own”

“Cosmetics?” He smiled seeing your dedication to your cause “You can get cosmetics rather than produce them”

You gave him a stoic face “By now you should know I enjoy mixing things… husband”

Benedict chortled “Forgive me I do know, my alchemist”

“And more with the fact that when I used to go to the Cowpers, me and Cressida took Mrs Cowper’s cosmetics and something smelled bad”

“You mean…?”

“Whatever is in there smelled like lead”

“Oh”

“Or ammonia” you nodded “Should I put it in my face? I believe not”

“I believe not too” he took the mortar and saw the crushed petals “My herbologist wife”

“Shush it” you took it from his hands “How is your paint going?”

“It is” he hummed next and looked at the sky “I wonder who wants a painting of a pond when you have the sky looking like such” Then he turned to see your hair falling to your face and you staring intently at the mixture of petals “or this view as well”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Sir Richard will come tomorrow to take a view at the painting”

“Sir Richard is the one whose daughter is getting married to the man with the weird moustache right?”

Benedict nodded “And I have heard something about that weird moustache man”

"Oh please do tell"

Sipping the tea and enchanting words of upper-class London Benedict you could quite put Lady Whistledown out of business. It was after dinner when you two parted ways for the late night. Benedict often despised the new routine he had after getting married. He felt the pressure of working most of the time with airs of copying Anthony's lifestyle. Oh he knew his brother would love the new him of glorious morning and tedious late-night work.

"At least I am not the first-born" he mumbled as he passed the brush over a missed spot by the corner

Yet, he might not be the firstborn but he sure still holds the Bridgerton name. Why on earth does he feel he must work and work? He does have a fair good amount of money to last through his lifetime and his future children's as well.

"Pffff" he groaned and let his hand drop the brush into the easel he looked around his studio and then up to the clock, 10 pm.

Wherever those nights go when he just stood still by the loveseat in front of the vanity and he watched as you performed such a delicate night routine? Wherever those moments of you naturally letting your gown fall over your naked body?

And now as he stepped surely but slowly inside the room, he now was greeted with your sleeping figure wrapped under the blankets but not his arms. He pouted and walked towards the bed, sitting by the edge and seeing the moonlight falling on your hair. He brushed your locks behind your ear and you shifted a little.

He stared for a while and answered his own question. People request painting of ponds and dogs and wars because they haven't met you yet.

By morning you let your open-mouthed of a husband sleep until he could wake on his own terms and you managed to arrange all the necessary things to host dinner for Sir Richard. You scratched your temple for the thousandth time as Mrs Crabtree explained the dinner service and how a proper nibble can be served during the painting exhibition.

The millionth time you have hosted these events and you still do not like them. You smiled however at the help brought by the Crabtrees and took a glance at the painting Benedict left almost done during the night.

And when noon came and you already taken your usual spot by the garden and started writing in your journal while stealing the newspaper that was laid for Benedict’s eyes.

“Please tell me I didn’t miss breakfast again”

You turned to the side and saw Benedict walking out with only a robe and his hair completely dishevelled.

“If I say no would that help?” You smiled and held a glass of fresh juice for him to drink. He gladly took it and drank until the last drop as he sank to the blanket on the grass.

“I just loathe this. I feel like I am waking up after a party”

You shrugged not knowing the feeling he expressed “How was that?”

“Full of unprocessed Brandy through my veins” he mumbled and saw the tea set by your side. A slight pinch in his chest made him feel so bad “Anyhow” he took your hands and kissed them smelling the rose water from your pores “How are you this morning?”

“Tired”

“Then you should have been with me in bed”

“And leave Mrs Crabtree alone for tonight?”

“I forgot how proper you are” Benedict rolled his eyes and rested his head on your lap and you automatically caressed his scalp. You were reading the paper once again and he tried to read it at your pace but somehow you have started the day with loads of energy compared to him.

“Love,” he said out of nowhere

You removed the newspaper from your sight and looked down “Yes?”

“…Nothing… I’m restless”

“I’m sorry to hear that” you replied and your hands trapped his face and you went down to place a kiss on his forehead

“Keep on”

You chuckled at his response and continued to kiss him all over his face. You loved how he would sigh at each kiss, it was a silent praise.

It was when you reached his lips that any tiredness he was preaching to have disappeared.

He sat down and turned your body towards his. You kept on kissing until he pushed you to the ground and the newspaper was completely forgotten.

“I thought it was me trying to comfort you,” you said

Benedict arched a brow. He might not be tired anymore, he could -oh he could- keep it up until he has you underneath him with your breasts exposed and the tea cup freezing cold by the corner and yet the beautiful smirk you have with your teeth biting your lower lip and the natural beauty of your face made him understand you really wanted to comfort him.

“Forgive me” he smiled and pulled apart “Please carry on”

You saw how he laid on his back and you followed him, your lips met his and a small giggle came from him. He was the most endearing man on Earth as he waited with his blue eyes widely opened.

You kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose and you bit his jawline making him hum.

Then your lips found his once again and this time he deepened the kiss, his tongue met yours and he could have sworn his soul left his body for a moment. Biscuits, tea, and juice. The flavour of this day.

Your “comfort” reached his neck while you kissed his skin, your hands played with the robe and the knots tied together. Whatever you want to do he is yours.

But then he opened his eyes at the absence of your touch and then you were swiftly tugging your dress. Your arms contorted as you expertly removed the buttons from the back and then let your dress fall to your hips.

Benedict was in a trance as his eyes roamed your form. He wondered if he did anything to deserve your touch or your presence at all.

You just smiled, sweetly yet provocatively when you showed your bare chest. No more petty coats, no more rib-breakers, only freedom in this Wiltshire cottage.

“My God” he licked his lips wanting to taste your skin

But you went to the knot and untied it, his robe fell apart and your hands went to his chest, pushing him down and you climbed him.

Your kisses trailed over his torso and he felt himself growing harder.

His eyes went to the heavens above, a sky full of white clouds... No. He can't just stay, he needs to do something. He sat down and his hands travelled down to your hips, his lips went to your breasts and your head went backwards as he sucked on your nipples and he grunted when he was pushed from the latch he had on you.

He gave you a stern look that faded with the force of your own eyes. You silently told him to stay on his back.

“Fine” he murmured to you

Your fingers found the hem of his night breeches, the ones he never wears. You found the thin cotton fabric easy to remove from his lower part and you were greeted quite happily with his arousal.

Benedict was watching attentively your actions and he gulped as you bent down and kissed the tip of his member.

A hiss came from his mouth as you wrapped your lips around him and started moving slowly. The once-dried skin slowly turned into a glistening shade of pink with your spit.

Once, twice, that head of yours bobbed to a perfect lazy rhythm and he was fighting the urge to thrust into your mouth. His hands found the back of your head and tangled themselves in your soft hair.

His grunts filled the air along with the sounds of you sucking him and the wind rustling the leaves and branches of the trees.

"You are so good to me," he said as he moved the stray hair from your face

Your mouth moved up and down and up again and you moaned in response making Benedict sigh in turn. He closed his eyes and you increased the speed. His member touched your palate and went further to the back of your mouth and as you pulled back your tongue tried to lick it further.

Benedict looked down and he had the most beautiful view. His cock disappeared in between your lips and you were so dedicated, the sounds were so wet and the feeling was so hot. He could explode just by looking at it but he couldn't.

How many times you have swallowed his seed? He couldn't count them anymore but he was sure to enjoy every single time too. He relishes the moment his cock pumps inside your mouth and you, loyal to the moment, keep taking his member while your tastebuds tingle at the warm bitter fluid. He loves and admires the movement of your throat when you swallow him and your lips stay most of the time clean.

Today? No, he doesn't need that view. He needs the one that makes him go to heaven and come back. He needs, he craves to see your core contracting with the remains of your orgasm while his seed flows out of you. He requires to see it again and again.

However, while he was picturing such a carnal moment in his mind, your mouth -full of energy- had the upper hand. Your breasts bounced with your fast movements and your mouth kept giving too much spit for you to glide up and down.

Lo-" he grunted as he felt the tensed muscles by his stomach "Y/N-"

You didn't stop and Benedict was quite undone by the blanket that made you feel such pride. You went again and again until it seemed his hands tried to stop you.

It was too late.

Benedict saw how you drank him fully, a small drop landed by your upper lip but apart from that, you did so well and still Benedict after the shock of his release, was not satisfied. Not because of you but because of his lost fantasy of coming inside of you. This day was not starting as he expected and he predicted it would be long before he could change it.

Hours after what happened you two prepared for the arrival of another client. The Crabtress returned from town with a special order; a cake Sir Richard enjoys (according to Violet Bridgerton) and you took your precious jewels and gave a final touch to your appearance. Not having a lady has made things far better in your opinion although your mama still finds it quite "offensive".

"You look splendid" Benedict said as you reached the end of the staircase

"And you look quite handsome" You gave an unconscious brush to his tailcoat and waited for the carriage to arrive

Sir Richard, with unwashed blonde hair and a subtle beard, made himself present in My Cottage. His beige tailcoat made him look so monochromatic and his pale complexion so bland but you have met him a few times to say that he was far better than other clients Benedict has invited for dinner.

"Mr Bridgerton" he happily said and shook hands with Benedict "Good to see you well"

"Sir Richard" Benedict smiled and nodded "It is a pleasure to have you"

"Thank you" his eyes drifted to your side and smiled "Mrs Bridgerton, radiant as always"

"Thank you, Sir Richard. I hope you will enjoy the dinner we have planned"

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it between his own "Just Richard, my Lady. Formalities" he sighed looking at Benedict "Are well forgotten back in London, no?"

With his laughter, the evening began. Still, the image of Benedict as someone who throws a dinner for a client and you by his side seemed out of your mind as if this was too much of a tryout for you both and still, protocols and politeness were still very present.

"Tell me" Sir Richard started "Is it true?"

"I'm afraid not to know what is true, Richard"

"That my future son-in-law has been seen roaming at night through the streets of London?"

Your wine got stuck in your throat, this is what you and Benedict were gossiping about yesterday so you locked eyes with your husband who blinked away with aim of diverting the talk.

"Oh, I wouldn't know Si- Richard"

He turned around and looked at you as he passed the tray of vegetables "What say you, Mrs Bridgerton?"

"Well" you tried to remember what else Benedict had told you "I haven't heard of that"

"Please, it is all over that dubious pamphlet... Mr Alvey spotted lurking around London" he shrugged "I told my daughter about it but she is, well, adamant"

"If I may," you said leaving the tray away "I have seen that pamphlet and is not like Lady Whistledown"

"No, it is not"

"Perhaps we can take whatever source and words are inked there with a grain of salt, can we not? Lady Whistledown has written things that by the end of the week can be verified but this pamphlet I believe has failed to do so"

Sir Richard nodded and brought a string bean to his mouth "Mr. Bridgerton, you got a gem"

"Oh, I know"

"Tell me, do you write?"

Your fork was forgotten on top of your plate as you blinked at the man “I-“

“Forgive me for the questioning. I recently talk with your father and he told me you wrote constantly. Now, I just wonder if you recall your days or you write about different things?”

“I do have many opinions” you admitted and gave a quick glance at Benedict

"And do you have a lot of time to write them down? I Believe so, this house is not yet filled with children, which don’t get me wrong they are lovely but free time can be used otherwise to spread solid sentences. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You tried to smile as your cheek grew hotter with each second that passed and the food was turning colder.

"Indeed" Benedict replied "And what are you trying to suggest, Richard?"

"You could give her a chance, write under the pen name Mrs Bridgerton and we could all know the wife of the second son; the painter. After all, my newspaper is known not for being traditional and I have employed plenty of women and not for cleaning the presses may I add”

"It would be an honour but I do not have the knowledge"

Benedict was first to give a smack with his lips at the absurdity of your comment “Nonsense”

“I mean” you smiled at him “knowledge of writing professionally. Although Eloise once blamed me for being Whistledown and that was a high yet ridiculous compliment, in reality I know nothing of publishing my thoughts”

“you always publish them with me” Benedict smiled lost in how the conversation was directed “and you do it superbly”

Sir Richard -sorry, Richard- laughed loud and strong “There you are. What do you think, Mrs Bridgerton?”

“And write about?”

Richard took his glass of wine and drank, his throat was dry after such a laugh, his cheeks flushed red and he took a minute to reply as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Write about the things no one wants to discuss" he leaned closer to the table, the candles illuminating his face and his green eyes were now focused on you "Facts, stories, good knowledge but also centred in your own opinion and tied to the readers”

You chuckled at the blurriness of his motive “Care to give me an example?”

"There were some household machines people around in London were patenting. Write about it, give your opinion, and ask the readers whether they like it. Would they use them?”

You fastly blinked at the proposition “S-Richard, that is quite an offer. I wonder if you got the right au-“

“I don’t mean to intrude in what seems to be a fruitful talk” Benedict said “But before you downgrade your knowledge which I know surpasses mine. I would say you could start small, no? Just write something simple, no need to be a machine or a new invention. What would you love to write about, darling?"

You sighed and took a sip of wine, thinking for a moment. Then an idea was formed in your mind.

"The importance of a full education for women… I might ask the readers” You looked at Sir Richard “ what do they think about it” you puffed "I'm sorry you said simple" You referred to Benedict "I ju-"

"That word doesn't fit into your vocabulary" your husband smirked

“I enjoy it now. We must talk about logistics. My press is in London and Wiltshire is not Surrey if you know what I mean”

Benedict saw your barely touched dinner and smiled at the man “We ought to but please let us eat something before I faint"

Dinner was a success, the cake was served and a new friend was made. When it was time to leave the men alone inside the art studio you waited by the tea room with your journal on the table. The inked words kept piling up forgotten in each page. If Sir Richard is right, you could be the next Lady Whistledown but then the consequences would be different.

"No such thing" you whispered to yourself

Employment. You laughed. What is this about? A pound per column published? Is it truly worth it when your name is known because you so desperately tried to make your opinion known?

The day already proved to be long and heavy. You waited for the men to finish without any activity to occupy yourself. It would have been different if the guest brought his wife, just like previous meeting you would offer her to talk or play cards if she looked high-spirited.

When you heard the doors creaking open you stood up and put your journal away to join the men. Pleased faces both of them as Benedict took the man's tailcoat by the entrance.

"Ah Mrs Bridgerton. It's been a while since I don't have such a nice evening"

"Thank you, Richard"

"We should have done it before" he looked at Benedict "I should have done this with your father, but oh well. Benedict, we must stay communicated this month and you Mrs Bridgerton I will send you some information this week that will make you change that puzzled look in you"

"I'll receive it gladly"

"Very well. Full stomach, good hosts I will sleep well tonight. Mr Bridgerton, I will see you later"

"You will. Have a good trip back home"

You followed him to the door and bid farewell to the man, his carriage was already outside and he was ready to depart and when he did you sighed long and steady until you saw Benedict's face.

"So?"

He shrugged "He needs a second one, just smaller but he loved it. Quite the mood he was seeking for his office he said"

You smiled and your cheek fell to his warm arm "There you go then"

"Thank you for today, for last night, for everything," he said in a soft voice and placed a kiss on your head

"What a day"

"You go upstairs I will thank the Crabtrees for preparing dinner"

"Uhum" you said mostly dazed and tired, you followed the stairs and turned to walk to the main chamber.

The candles were lit and the bed was made and ready for you to lay down and what a fall you had against the duvet. You exhaled and closed your eyes, feeling the soft fabric caressing your skin. Minutes later your ears took the noise of the door as Benedict's presence. You rolled and saw how fast he took his clothes and landed by your side.

His hand took your hair and caressed it, his blue eyes were fixed on yours.

"I must confess something" he whispered

"What?"

"I am... not content"

You frown and try to prop your head up with your hand "You're unhappy?"

"No, it's not unhappy just not content"

"Isn't that the same?"

"No" He sighed and turned his face to look at the ceiling "I am quite happy with you, with my family, with this place... with you and with you"

"Alright"

"But I..." he scratched his brow "I don't enjoy whatever I built of myself as an adult in terms of my profession" he saw your listening face and continued "It is a good living, it is a good business I can't complain about that. However, I feel off. Not here, not there but most of all not here"

"Not here?"

"Not with you. Fully and I know it's not as if you need my constant presence by your side-"

"Who said that?"

Benedict gently smirked "What I mean is that I must pause this work. We have enough money to last our lifetime..." he paused, his eyes dancing "And... perhaps one kid's lifetime"

"And if we have two?"

"Alright, two kids' lifetime but not for our grandkids"

"Hmmm. Then our kids will have to work" you laughed while Benedict joined you seconds later "I understand what you mean"

"I do will leave money. I will work at some point" he justified

"I don't mind that" you confessed "I know you don't enjoy rushing things and clearly you feel you rushed into this work-for-commission task when you feel you should be here with me"

Benedict's chest tickled in warmness as he heard his thoughts coming from your mouth "My dear, you just get me don't you?"

"You were never difficult to read for me"

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, his lips kissing yours softly, his nose brushing your cheek, his heart racing. He was not sure what he would do if you were not by his side.

"You know," he said "If you are truly tired I will understand but" his hand pressed your arm and traced down at your waist "I want to be here tonight with you"

"Depends on how you want to be here" you murmured

"Let me tell you" he kissed your hand and then hovered on top of you "Let me show you" he kissed your lips, sweetly and locked eyes with you "I want to find my way in you, in your open hands," he said merging your fingers with his, tightly "and that you feel like a woman only with me" his free hand caressed your breast through the fabric and then his lips took yours "Today and tomorrow and the days after I want to be here. Today I want you" his hand reached for the bottom of your dress and he slowly pushed it upwards, the skin of his legs brushing yours as his knee opened your thighs.

"I want to be here with you," you said between a murmur and a kiss, his weight was on top of you and his eyes were bright in the light, the shadow of the candles making his face look sharper and the blue of his eyes deeper and darker.

Benedict licked his lips and pulled apart only to hastily remove your stockings. He put his arms behind your back as you arched it, his fingers undid the buttons and pushed the sleeves down. He did not wait and grabbed the dress and threw it to the side.

Your breasts tempted to move out of the corset and Benedict exhaled as he removed it and it reminded him again how unnerving these pieces were and how good is to have you not wearing one daily.

"I want to be here, now" he repeated with each kiss he gave you, his tongue tasted you and his hands touched your thighs "I want to quench this thirst" he moved down to your nipples and licked once, licked twice "This thirst of my soul on your lips or-" he gulped seeing the absence of your pantalettes and the readiness of your core

His tongue attacked your folds and licked in slow, steady motions that had you trembling. Your head was buried on the duvet and your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Oh my-Benedict" you moaned as his tongue flicked

Benedict sucked and slurped as he pushed a finger inside and turned up to see your wanton eyes and parted lips "Oh my Y/N" he mimicked and resumed his movements

A second finger joined while the pace was increasing; he sucked your nub and pushed his fingers up. His tongue played with his fingers as they slid in and out and he moaned against you with the real juices only you can produce but he knew he was owing you so many orgasms already. He has not let you set free in his face for almost a week and knowing you, you are counting.

He pulled apart and removed his fingers, his thumb rubbed the sensitive spot while his mouth kissed his way up to your neck.

"Benedict"

He moaned and bit your earlobe "Y/N"

"More"

"I will give it all," he said "I promise"

Swiftly, his wet fingers grabbed his member and he stroked himself before pushing it into your folds.

"I love you" he kissed your lips

"I love you more"

"You're all mine" he thrusted only once "And I am so yours" he pulled back and slammed until you were only one

Your hands were holding his sides as he pounced into you, his hot breath heated your cheek as he groaned and growled with each push. He was so strong and so hard and yet so soft. Your lips brushed and kissed as your walls tightened.

"Oh, dear god" he moaned as his pace slowed down "Are you close?"

"I..." you softly snorted "Is too much" You felt your navel tensing "Almost"

"So fast" he whispered and kissed your bottom lip "I am praised for that" Benedict groaned and pushed in and out, in and out. He could feel the build-up inside his navel and the pressure was too much already.

Wait. He thought. Just make it last a bit more. Be here. Be here.

And he saw you underneath against the olive duvet and how glorified you looked with your pink cheeks and parted lips. With your breasts bouncing with his pace and your nipples getting hard then turning soft. And as he caressed your stomach while slowing the thrusts he knew that to be here meant something else.

Six months after you got married he has wasted time trying to find where he fits but he now sees he has always fit with you -no jest intended- six months and he hasn't had it right until now. He wants to be here and give you his kids. He needs to see you swollen with his child, your breasts filled with milk and oh dear get you aroused looking like that.

Yet first things first. He needs to have what he got denied this morning.

"Benedict"

He groaned with your moans and his thrusts sped up only to become more erratic, his hand went down and massaged your nub and you were doing so good trying not to come fast and that only gave him time to organize his lewd thoughts.

His eyes went to your wrapping folds around him and he imagined the moment his cock will spur his warm white seed inside of you. How good will you take him? Will your contracting walls push his essence deep within you?

He licked his lips and his groans grew louder as the tension was too much and the feeling was almost unbearable.

"I can't" he grunted "Oh no, I can't."

He fell forwards as he hovered and his hips thrust faster making you arch your back at the intense fight between you. He felt how you were welcoming your orgasms and he kept focusing on your open mouth and tensed jaw muscles. He pushed his cock inside. All the way inside, he ordered himself.

He moaned and softly exhaled your name as his stomach became hard with his release. He felt his seed being milked out of him and he stayed there acting as the barrier for his seed not to flow out of you.

His hand dried the sweat around your forehead and his body felt heavy but he couldn't move. Not when he had such a beautiful view. He saw how your breathing started to regulate and your legs stopped shaking. He moved out of you and somehow his eyes took a long glance at your core and how beautifully marked it was with his thick seed coming out of you.

He smiled and looked up at your pretty face "Let us rest" you responded n a soft hum and Benedict enjoyed as you moved inside the linens and how his fluids were still dropping across your inner thighs "Sleep, my love" he whispered

Benedict often thought about how he reached this point in his life. From the boy who was so desperate for freedom to the man who found a purpose. And he has found the explanation. He has reached here thanks to you and how good it feels. How full he feels when he has you near and when he reflects that he is loved by you. To be here, he thinks.

No onelse, nowhere else.

To be here.

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nightingale2004 · 17 hours

Text

Just a quick little bridgerton post.

From what I've seen from the series. The bridgerton siblings are close with Penelope, but we rarely or don't get moments with Penelope and the rest of the bridgertons except for Colin and Eloise mostly.

SERIOUSLY NETFLIX?!?!

The older bridgerton bros (Benedict and Anthony) are so protective, and I've yet to see any brotherly sister moments between them.

NETFLIX, YOU 👏GOTTA 👏DO👏 BETTER👏👏👏👏!!!!

Now I'm in desperate need of Penelope bonding with the other Bridgerton siblings, I need Violet being an actual healthy and loving mother figure to Penelope. I need Benedict and Anthony bonding with Penelope. I need Hyacinth and Francesca being sisters to Penelope and Gregory being a little brother menace to Penelope. I need Kate and Daphne to have their moments with Penelope, including Simon

Like I said

NETFLIX! 👏DO👏BETTER!!!!!!

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vanishedinvain · 2 days

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 !!

hi all i finally got around to trying to make a taglist! for anyone unfamiliar, perfect all-american bitch is a benedict bridgerton x reader fic i've been working on:

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

—the second son is stumbling in shoes two sizes too large, and everyone in the ton can see it. nothing could make things worse right now, not even the american nouveau riche girl dragging him across the cobblestones.

or: an AU where anthony and simon's duel ends in bloodshed, benedict becomes the viscount, and an american girl might just help him see in color again.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐞

—benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

𝐜𝐡. 𝐢. 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐦

—the gaudy, new money american girls make a splash while benedict tries desperately to keep his head above water.

𝐜𝐡. 𝐢𝐢. 𝐢 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 -- coming soon!

—benedict might be getting dragged across the cobblestones right now, but at least his captor is an angel.

if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic, interact with this post somehow (reblog, like, comment). you may also send me a message if you're more comfortable with that! you can always ask to be removed at any time. do not interact if you don't wanna be added OR if you are under 18, no minors allowed

here's a quick sneak peek under the cut of chapter ii. i scream inside to deal with it:

Benedict began downing his drink as he walked away in large strides. He weaved through half-dressed partiers, painters with armfuls of supplies, and women dragging silk chiffon through the air. The whiskey filled his body with warmth, and clouded his mind pleasantly.

He thought for a second that he was going to get the last word. And then he heard the clacking of boots behind him, and almost smiled at his wrongness. It would be amusing if he were not trying to distance himself for her own good.

She had lost him briefly in the smoke clouds before spotting him around the corner. “Hey!”

“You should find your friends.”

“Slow down!” Whether she was referring to his pace of walking or drinking, she did not even know herself.

“It is honestly remarkable that nobody has burst in here looking for any of you yet.”

“Benedict, I’m sorry!”

They had come up to the front door now when he stopped and whirled around on her, bewildered. “Whatever for, Dovie?” He was the one who dumped all his baggage on her.

“I should not have asked about…that.”

“You have no reason to be sorry. I was the one who kept going on and on.”

“I would have stopped if I knew it was going to cause this much distress! I would have never even touched the subject. I wanted us to have a good night—”

He suddenly grabbed her face, firm but not forceful, stopping her rambling in its tracks. He was being too familiar with someone who was a stranger hours ago, but he needed to calm her mind and he was too far gone to realize just how intimate this was. “Hey. I’m alright,” he implored.

if this piqued your interest, interact with this post or send me a message/ask to be added to the taglist!

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix

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plentyoffandoms · 2 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/plentyoffandoms/751377037239975936/hi-hope-you-are-well-are-your-requests-open?source=share

I'm good thanks.

That's awesome to hear.

Can I request for Lord Alfred Debling. Please and thank you.

He finds a wife who is just as obsessed about astrology as he is about nature, which she also received ridicule for. The marriage was arranged but they bond over they're interests. She travels with him since she can use the stars to navigate. They eventually settle at his estate once she gets pregnant. They have the cutest litter of children running around. And they're just the sweetest family. The kids names are even themed to their interests.

Our Family

Lord Debling x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Bridgerton Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @didanagy

Warnings. None

Requested by anonymous. I hope you like it, and such a cute idea

WC: 836

My wife and I were strolling in our garden, with our children running around. It was getting late in the evening, and it was the perfect time to look up into the night sky.

Our children were very excited as the night sky had no clouds and they could see the stars. They are also excited as the summer flowers are starting to bloom, and many bugs are starting to come out due to the warmer weather coming on.

My wife and oldest daughter, Ivy, were discussing their latest book they had read, and I was keeping an eye on the younger children, but their oldest brother, who is Ivy's twin, Berry was keeping them from wondering off.

When I first met my darling wife all those years ago, I was not happy. My parents and her parents got together and arranged our marriage.

Her and I are considered odd in our society as my love of nature and her love of astrology. Most people could not wrap their heads around it.

Our parents were concerned that my way of life at the time was no means for a lady. I was leaving after the wedding and her staying at our estate, but not her.

She joined me on my adventures, getting to know the real me, and I got to know her. I showed her the beauty in our world, and she showed me the beauty of our vast sky.

The first few days into my trip, I became concerned that we were getting lost, but she showed me how to navigate with the stars.

I truly became memorised by her, and I slowly fell in love with the woman my parents arranged for me to marry.

Once she became pregnant, I decided that it was time for us to settle at our estate and start to make a home worthy of our children.

Archer and Basil ran past me, laughing, bringing me out of my memories.

"Now boys, please watch where you are going." I said to them, not wanting to ruin their fun, but for then not to get hurt or hurt one of their siblings.

"Yes, father." They muttered before running off, playing some game of tag that is only between the two of them.

I helped my wife up the hill, as she was once again pregnant, but our sweet little Cordelia came rushing down the hill, wanting to help her mother up the hill.

Cordelia is the youngest at four years of age and is excited to be a big sister.

My wife sat down on the bench I had placed here not long after we came home.

"Now, you all know the rules. No fighting, no shoving, no yelling. We all get a turn." I didn't like to impose 6 many ruled on my children as our society does that already, but after the first time we did this, and the telescope got broken, their mother and I knew that some rules had to be put in place.

I stood next to the telescope as our children, from oldest to youngest, looked up into the night sky, completely in awe.

Ivy, Berry, Aurora, Archer, Basil, our other set of twins, Willow, Jupiter, Celeste, and Cordelia all took their turns, then rushed to their mother's side, asking her questions.

"Now, now, my darling children, it is your mother's turn." I said as they parter for me to get to her, to help stand her up from the bench.

"Take your time, dear. We have all night." She gave me a soft smile and leaned into look into the telescope. Our children ran off to play the scavenger hunt game I made for them before we came out here.

They had to find a certain bug or plant and cross it off their list. I even drew pictures next to what they need to be looking for.

Once, I knew the children were occupied, safe, and having fun, which I could tell by the squeals of laughter coming from around our garden, I wrapped my arms around her waist and placed my head on her shoulder.

"Oh, Alfred, it is just beautiful." She said as she straightened and leaned back into my arms.

"Not as beautiful as you, my beautiful wife."

"You shush now, husband. You are going to make me become vain with all your praises." Her and I laughed at that.

I turned her around in my arms so we were facing one another, I kissed her while placing my hand on her stomach, her and I was giggling at feeling our newest one kicking.

"Oh gross, they are kissing again." I heard Archer say before running off.

"How about when we are done here, and they are put to bed, you and I have some fun our bedroom."

"It's like you are trying to get me pregnant, even though I am already pregnant." She teased.

"We make lovely children." I told her.

"That we do Alfred, that we do."

Tag list: @madhatterbri

#reader imagine #reader insert #female reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton #lord debling imagine #lord debling fanfiction #lord debling x reader #lord debling x you #lord Debling x y/n #lord Debling x female reader #lord Debling x f/Reader #lord Debling

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basset-babe · 13 hours

Text

five times: the third.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, drinking, anger, disgust, hurtful words, self-doubt / sabotage

word count: 5.1k+

a/n: honestly felt like i bit more off than i can chew but i do relish a challenge! also, my apologies for the prolonged delay of my postings, dearests. life has been life-ing recently lol anywho, here is the ever-challenging third! opening with a whistledown aND y'all know what we do when gossip arrives, we gossip! ciao amo! (dates included do not mean anything nor is accurate to any timeline)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the fourth . at last.

trees and skies banner from @cottage-writings, pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers

March 25, 18XX

Dearest readers,

The season is in full swing, and the social whirl is abuzz with the latest happenings. None have captured our collective curiosity quite like the endless stream of callers at the Y/L/N residence, all vying for the favor of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. With suitors from the finest families presenting gifts and performances, it is no surprise that Miss Y/L/N has been the object of much admiration.

However, keen observers might have noted a particular favorite among the throng. Yes, dear readers, the second Bridgerton son, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, has made a notable impression on the lovely Miss Y/N. Their promenades and conversations have not gone unnoticed, with many speculating that he holds a special place in her affections. However, as ever in the delicate dance of courtship, it is not without its complications.

Whispers have reached this author's ears that Mr. Bridgerton has been seen in the company of Lady Tilley Arnold—a widow of the late Lord Arnold and esteemed patroness of the sciences. Their encounters, whispered about in the most fashionable circles, suggest more than mere friendship.

Do hold your gasps, for the intrigue does not end there. No, for as Lady Arnold bid adieu to the shadows and prepared to depart, a most shocking revelation transpired. Witnesses, whose lips dare not speak aloud but whose eyes betray their secrets, observed a clandestine exchange between the widow and Mr. Bridgerton— a kiss, dear readers, of the most scandalous variety! The timing, dear readers, is most curious as Lady Arnold was on the verge of departing London, which only adds to the enigma of this nocturnal visit.

What, pray tell, does this clandestine encounter signify, one might wonder? Is there more to the attention of Mr. Bridgerton, that his affections may be wavering, or has Lady Arnold, with her enigmatic charm, ensnared him in her web of intrigue? Such a late-night rendezvous, particularly with a lady of Lady Arnold's standing, is certain to raise eyebrows and incite much speculation.

The ton will surely surmise whether this encounter was a fleeting indiscretion or the beginning of a more complicated entanglement. What could this mean for Mr. Bridgerton and Miss Y/N? Will their courtship withstand the weight of this scandal, or will it crumble under the pressure of whispered gossip and innuendo? Can Miss Y/N overlook this transgression and hold fast to her affection for Mr. Bridgerton, or will she be swayed by the lure of a less tarnished suitor?

One thing is certain, dear reader: the social season has become infinitely more intriguing with this latest development. Rest assured, I will be watching with keen interest as the drama unfolds.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

third time.

"Good afternoon, sister," Benedict greeted Eloise, who was standing in the middle of the house's foyer with her hands conspicuously behind her back.

"Ah! Brother, afternoon," Eloise replied cautiously, attempting to hide the gossip sheet behind her gown skirts. "Where were you?" she asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"Nowhere of particular interest. What are you reading?" Benedict inquired, his eyes narrowing as he pointed to her hidden arm.

"Nothing," Eloise replied hastily, but Benedict knew better. He raised an eyebrow and extended his hand, motioning for her to hand over whatever she was concealing.

Eloise hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly produced the crumpled gossip sheet from behind her back, placing it in Benedict's outstretched hand. "Whistledown," she muttered, avoiding his gaze. "You are mentioned."

Benedict unfolded the paper and began to read. His typically affable expression turning stoic as he saw his own name linked with both Miss Y/N and Lady Tilley Arnold. His jaw tightened, and he placed the scandal sheet on the table. Eloise cleared her throat and asked. "How are you?"

"Quite the scandal, it seems," he remarked, his tone betraying a hint of indifference. "And here I thought I could keep my affairs private. What truly vexes me is not the content concerning myself, it's how she drags in the names of Miss Y/N and Lady Arnold, implying something as if curious but ruinous as she almost did you last season. Heavens be damned, if I ever discover her true identity, I will ensure it is her life that is ruined."

"The lady has declined visits... for today, Sir. I ask... kindly, that you leave the premises," the lady's maid informed as Benedict sat astride his horse, a sketchpad clutched tightly in his hand.

His heart sank at the lady's maid's words, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He had ridden with fervent determination, his thoughts consumed by the desire to see Y/N, to seek solace in her presence after the scandalous sheet had been released. But now, faced with the reality of her refusal, he felt an overwhelming sense of restlessness wash over him.

He had hoped to find refuge in her company this late afternoon, to find comfort in the warmth of her smile and the gentleness of her touch. Yet, it seemed that even she was now beyond his reach, her doors closed to him in the wake of the damning gossip that had tainted his name.

"Could you try again, please?" Benedict implored, desperation lacing his words. "I just need to speak to her, to explain myself."

But the maid remained resolute, her expression unyielding, her features softened by a touch of sympathy for Benedict's plight. "I'm sorry, Sir," she repeated, her voice a gentle murmur, "but the lady's wishes are clear. I cannot go against her instructions."

Feeling the weight of disappointment settle upon him like a heavy cloak, Benedict offered a resigned nod to the maid, acknowledging her adherence to propriety even as his heart ached with longing. With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the imposing facade of Y/N's residence, his footsteps heavy with the burden of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As he urged the horse forward, the rhythmic beat of hoofbeats echoed through the quiet streets of London, a steady cadence that mirrored the tumultuous thoughts racing through Benedict's mind. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of the recent scandal pressing down upon him, its suffocating grip tightening with each breath he took. People who walked the pathways murmuring as he passed them. Almost as if they'd point and had been meaning to ask of the truth in the latest Whistledown.

But Benedict was not one to be deterred by adversity, nor to allow his spirits to be dampened by the trials of the heart. With a determined set to his jaw and a fire burning in his eyes, he urged his horse onward, his destination clear in his mind.

Arriving at the gentlemen's club, Benedict dismounted his horse with practiced grace, the cool night air stirring the tendrils of his hair as he strode purposefully towards the grand entrance. The club stood as a bastion of camaraderie and respite amidst the chaos of London society, its hallowed halls a sanctuary for men of wit and refinement.

He'd rode to the club where his brothers were spending the early evening. The ambiance was one of refined indulgence, with the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm hue over the rich mahogany furnishings and plush velvet upholstery. He found Anthony and Colin lounging in a corner, their laughter echoing through the room like the lively notes of a well-played sonata.

"Well, if it isn't our solemn Benedict," Anthony teased, clapping him on the back as he approached. His voice carried the joviality of a man accustomed to commanding attention, resonating amidst the club's genteel chatter.

Benedict managed a half-hearted chuckle, sinking into a nearby chair. His usually composed demeanor was tinged with a hint of melancholy, though he tried to play off his turmoil with a forced smile that did little to mask the weight of his troubles.

Colin, with his mischievous blue eyes and rakish grin, raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Drama? Pray, do tell. Have you found yourself embroiled in a scandalous Whistledown-written affair, dear brother?" His tone was light, yet there lingered a genuine curiosity, as if he relished the prospect of a juicy tale.

Benedict rolled his eyes, though a flicker of amusement danced in their depths. "Nothing so melodramatic, I assure you," he quipped, his voice a melodious baritone that resonated with the refined elegance befitting a man of his stature. "Just a bit of trouble with a certain someone who shall remain nameless."

Anthony leaned forward, his interest piqued like a hound on the scent of a tantalizing mystery. "Ah, a mystery woman! Do tell us more. Is she a diamond of the first water? A rose amongst thorns? A season's paragon?" His knowing words were infused with a playful charm, his aristocratic features softened by the warmth of his smile.

Benedict couldn't help but laugh at his brother's theatrics, the sound echoing through the room like the pealing of church bells on a crisp autumn morning. "More like a thorn stuck on my rose, if you ask me," he replied wryly, his lips quirking into a rueful smile. "But alas, the sheet seems to have taken interest in me. Thus, I've offended the lady at my latest misstep."

Colin exchanged a knowing glance with Anthony, their eyes sparkling with mischief like stars in the night sky. "Ah, love can be a treacherous game, my dear brother," he remarked with a wistful sigh, his voice tinged with the bittersweet nostalgia of past dalliances.

With a resigned sigh, Benedict brough out the paper, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he unfolded it to reveal the damning headlines. His eyes scanned the page again, each word striking like a blow to his already wounded pride.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Anthony quipped, leaning in to peer over Benedict's shoulder with a devilish grin. "It seems our dear Benedict has captured the attention of Lady Whistledown herself. Tell me, is there any truth to this gossip?"

Benedict felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck as he struggled to find the words to explain himself, "There is a sliver of truth. Lady Arnold did visit, and yes, there was a kiss. But it was far from the scandalous affair Whistledown implies. We aren't anything but naught, I tell you." He answered at almost a whisper. Benedict knew that the contents of the scandal sheet would be the subject of much speculation and gossip, his reputation hanging precariously in the balance.

"And what of Miss Y/L/N, whom you are so ardently courting? How does she figure into this little drama?" Anthony asked, concerned of his brother's standing.

Benedict sighed, his concern evident as he expressed his worries to his brothers. "That is precisely my concern. I have been nothing but sincerity in my courtship of Miss Y/L/N. She deserves better than to be dragged into this mess."

Colin leaned forward, sensing the gravity of the situation. "So, what will you do? Surely you cannot let Whistledown's prattle jeopardize your relationship with Miss Y/N."

Benedict's expression phased into determination. "I intend to speak with Miss Y/N directly. She deserves to hear the truth from me, not the twisted version Whistledown has concocted. That if she allows an audience with me. And as for Lady Arnold, I shall ensure our interactions are far more circumspect if not, naught in all aspects she may bring up on me, when she does return and does whatever near."

Anthony nodded in agreement, his gaze softening with genuine affection as he clapped Benedict on the back. "Let us not dwell on the past now, brother, but instead focus on the future—on what you can do. Whatever Lady Whistledown may have to say, we shall weather the storm together, as we always have."

Colin, then, raised his glass, a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he played along with his brother's jest. "To no longer saving face, my dear Colin! For love, for honor, and for the sake of our brother's bruised ego!" His words were punctuated by a hearty laugh that resonated through the room like the rumble of thunder on a stormy night. This is going to be quite the arduous courtship.

The grand lobby of the Londinium Opera House was a scene of opulence and refinement, an exquisite embodiment of sophistication. As the setting sun cast a warm, golden glow through the tall, arched windows, the room seemed to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting evening ahead. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, polished to such perfection that they reflected the twinkling crystal chandeliers overhead. These chandeliers, with their countless prisms, scattered light like a thousand tiny stars, illuminating the elegant assembly below.

The air was a heady blend of perfumes and colognes, mingling with the faint, tantalizing scent of fresh flowers arranged in lavish bouquets atop mahogany tables. The flowers, a riot of colors and species, were chosen to reflect the season, adding a touch of nature’s beauty to the man-made splendor of the opera house.

"This is definitely too stuffy for my nose." Eloise brushed her finger by her nose as she and Benedict passed through a sea of dressed up ton amidst tonight's opera.

As the two navigated through the ton at the opera's lobby, their steps softened by the plush carpeting beneath them, Eloise couldn't help but wrinkle her nose discreetly once more. "I agree," Benedict murmured to Eloise, his voice barely audible over the gentle murmur of conversations and the distant strains of prelude music.

"It's like drowning in a sea of perfume and pomposity. How long will the show take?" Eloise asks.

Benedict chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the crowd with a bemused expression. "Indeed, it seems we've stumbled into a gathering of the city's most refined noses and airs. But I fear, it'd be almost four more hours but there must be a few souls yearning for a breath of fresh air."

Eloise grinned, her spirits lifting at Benedict's playful remark. "That'd probably be us, brother," she replied, her gaze sweeping the room in search of kindred spirits amidst the sea of finery. "But until then, I'd die of ennui from this whole bonanza of a show."

"Not if I escape it," Benedict remarked in jest as he wiggled his eyebrows at Eloise. "But, of course, I'm taking you with me."

"You are absolutely my favorite brother." And the two, laughing at their antics, sneaked out of the opera house where their carriage is waiting to flee the night.

The carriage ride through the moonlit streets of London was a serene affair, with only the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves and the soft creaking of the carriage wheels breaking the stillness of the night. Benedict sat in quiet contemplation, his gaze occasionally drifting to the window where the city's twinkling lights danced like distant stars against the dark canvas of the night sky. He had set upon to spend the night on the invite of a fellow painter, Lord Granville. The address card nestled in his pockets.

He knocked on the carriage roof and said, "We are to drop off Eloise at home first." Eloise shot her brother with a knowing look, "So, you do have plans for the night, Ben. Interesting." She nodded teasingly.

"What? Can't I spend my night on my own concurs?" He said, feigning defense on whatever his sister may be implying. The carriage stops and the footman opens the door. Eloise turns to her brother as she went down the carriage steps and says, "Amidst your Whistledown scrape, you seem to be taking this very light. Oh, to be a man this easy!"

Benedict shakes his head as he laughs at his sister's comment. He has been taking this all seriously, has he? It's not like he hasn't been doing amends. The gossip sheet only had been spread this morning. Surely, damages are still reversible? As the carriage turned out their street, Benedict's thoughts turned to the ramble of his mind. All his thoughts are loud of Y/N, her voice ringing in his head. He'd imagined their time in her garden. How she simply tells stories and facts of botany; or the time she'd nestled by the tree, her cheeks flushed with the lingering laughs they'd shared moments ago, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought of her. And as quickly as the smile drew on, it dissipated recalling that she had not allowed him audience this morning.

The carriage came to a gentle halt in front of a townhouse's doorstep, and Benedict stepped out onto the cobblestone path of 5th avenue, the cool night air washing over him like a soothing balm. He turned to the carriage driver, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before the driver urged the horses forward once more, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

Benedict delicately clutched the card bearing Lord Granville's prestigious name, ensuring he stood before the correct abode. With an air of refined assurance, he gently rapped the door knocker twice, whereupon Lord Granville himself promptly emerged to greet him.

Lord Granville, sporting a relaxed ensemble, greeted Benedict with a gracious nod, his demeanor exuding an aura of aristocratic charm. "Ah, Mr. Bridgerton, how delightful of you to join us," he intoned, his voice carrying a hint of cultured refinement. "Please, do come in. The evening promises to be most engaging."

With a gracious gesture, Lord Granville ushered Benedict into the dimly lit foyer, where the scent of beeswax candles mingled with the earthy aroma of oil paints. The sound of lively conversation and the occasional strumming of a lute drifted through the air, creating an atmosphere of artistic fervor.

As Benedict crossed the threshold, he felt a sense of excitement building within him, eager to immerse himself in the vibrant energy of the bohemian salon and the company of fellow artists and free spirits. Tonight promised to be a celebration of creativity and expression, a refuge from the stifling conventions of society, and Benedict couldn't wait to grasp his wash in of it.

The house was a riot of color and creativity, with tapestries adorned with vibrant hues lining the walls and eclectic artwork displayed on every available surface. Easels dotted the room, each showcasing works in progress, while clusters of artists and poets engaged in spirited discussions about philosophy, politics, and the latest artistic movements.

Benedict found himself swept up in the lively atmosphere, drawn to a group of painters huddled on their own canvases, their brushes dancing across the surface with frenetic energy. Where in the middle, nude women posed as muses and artist drew of their perspectives. Nearby, a poet recited verses of love and longing, his words weaving a tapestry of emotion that hung heavy in the air. Lord Granville now swept in his own circle.

In a secluded corner of the salon, hidden away from the prying eyes of the crowd, Benedict stumbled upon a private room adorned with tapestries of rich, jewel-toned hues and plush velvet cushions strewn about in haphazard arrangements. The flickering glow of candlelight cast dancing shadows across the walls, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and secrecy.

There, amidst the opulent surroundings, Benedict spotted Y/N, her laughter ringing out like a melody amidst the soft hum of conversation. She sat perched on a velvet chaise, a paintbrush in hand, her eyes alight with passion as she leaned over a canvas, her movements fluid and graceful.

Surrounded by fellow artists, including Lady Granville and Genevieve Delacroix, the ton's most favored seamstress, Y/N appeared completely at ease, her quick wit and sharp intellect evident as she engaged in spirited conversation, her laughter mingling with the clink of glasses and the rustle of paintbrushes.

As Benedict watched from the doorway, a pang of longing pierced his heart, the sight of Y/N's radiant smile and infectious energy stirring emotions he had long tried to suppress. He yearned to join her, to bask in her warmth and revel in the shared joy of creation, but the weight of their unresolved conflict hung heavy between them like a barrier, casting a shadow over their once vibrant connection.

Summoning his courage, Benedict stepped forward, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floorboards. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but before he could say another word, Lady Granville intercepted him, her gaze cold and calculating.

"Mr. Bridgerton," Madame Delacroix greeted with a disdainful tilt of her chin, her French slurred tone laced with thinly veiled contempt. "What brings you to our little gathering? Surely you don't expect to find yourself welcome here after what Whistledown's latest sheet has revealed."

Benedict's heart sank at the mention of Lady Whistledown's scandalous gossip, the weight of the accusations pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. "Y/N, please," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation, but Lady Granville merely raised an imperious eyebrow, her disdain palpable.

"Ladies, could you please give us the room," Y/N interjected firmly, her voice carrying a steely edge that brooked no argument. Madame Delacroix shot her a questioning look, to which the lady nodded reluctantly. With a series of subtle glances directed at Benedict, the women filed out of the room, their gazes lingering on him with thinly veiled curiosity.

As the door closed behind them, a heavy silence settled over the room, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. Y/N turned to face Benedict, her features hardened with a mixture of anger and hurt.

As Benedict and Y/N unexpectedly found themselves face to face amidst the opulent surroundings of the Granville party, the atmosphere seemed to crackle with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Y/N's eyes, usually warm and inviting, now bore a glint of guarded skepticism as she regarded Benedict, her gaze piercing through the facade of polite decorum.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the murmurs of conversation fading into a distant hum as they stood locked in a silent standoff, each grappling with their own tumultuous thoughts and feelings. The flickering glow of candlelight cast eerie shadows across their features, adding to the sense of unease that hung between them like a tangible force.

"Benedict," Y/N's voice broke through the suffocating silence, her tone edged with a hint of surprise and resentment, "What brings you here? I didn't expect to see you at this gathering."

Benedict's features tightened with unease, his eyes darting nervously as he struggled to find the right words. The grandeur of the room seemed to mock his discomfort, its lavish decor serving as a stark reminder of the gaping divide that had grown between them.

"I...I could ask you the same," Benedict replied tentatively, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. The weight of Y/N's gaze bore down on him like a heavy burden, and he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

Y/N's lips formed a thin line, a flicker of frustration flashing in her eyes as she absorbed Benedict's response. The tension between them crackled in the air, suffusing the room with an almost palpable energy as they stood locked in a silent standoff.

"I am here with friends," Y/N explained tersely, her tone tinged with defensiveness. "I didn't anticipate running into...you."

Benedict felt a pang of remorse at the coldness in her tone, the realization of the pain he had caused her weighing heavily on his conscience. The warmth of the room seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a chilling emptiness that mirrored the growing distance between them.

"Y/N," he implored, his tone tinged with worry. "There's something I need to ask you. Why did you deny me an audience earlier this morning? I sought you out, but I was turned away without explanation. Please, Y/N, I need to understand."

Y/N paused in her tracks, her hand hovering over the couch arm as she hesitated. The weight of Benedict's words hung heavy in the air between them, the tension palpable as they stood on the precipice of an unspoken truth.

Slowly, Y/N turned to face him, her expression guarded as she met his gaze with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. "I couldn't face anyone— even you, Benedict," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not after... Whistledown that's happened. I needed time to gather my thoughts, to come to terms with the depth of my pain and my reputation."

Benedict's heart sank at her words, the realization of the pain he had caused her weighing heavily on his conscience. "Y/N, I had no idea," he murmured, his voice laced with regret. "If I had known, I would have respected your wishes. I never meant to add to your suffering."

"I know, Benedict," she firmly said, but her voice betraying her, tinged with sadness. "But some wounds run deeper than others, and time alone cannot heal them. I need space, time to find my own path forward."

"Y/N, please," Benedict pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation, "Let me explain. I never meant to—"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger, her frustration boiling over as she confronted him with the pain he had caused. "Explain what, Benedict?" she demanded, her voice rising with each word. "Your absence? Your silence? Or perhaps the fact that I'm possibly nothing more than mere amusement to you, a prim and proper distraction from your rakish pursuits?"

Benedict recoiled at her words, the sting of her accusations piercing through his defenses like a dagger to his heart. "No, Y/N, you know that's not true," he protested, but she cut him off with a bitter laugh.

"Do I?" she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "How can I be sure of anything when you've left me to face the whispers and the gossip alone? When you've abandoned me to doubt and humiliation?" Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as she spoke, the pain of betrayal etched deeply into her features.

Benedict felt the weight of her accusations like a sword to his heart, his chest tightening with the agony of her words. "Y/N, please, you must understand," he implored, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never intended for any of this to happen. My absence, my silence—it was never a reflection of how I feel about you. I've been grappling with my own inner turmoil, responsibilities and fears that have nothing to do with you."

Benedict's admission hung heavy in the air between them, his confession like a dagger to Y/N's heart. Her anger, fueled by betrayal and hurt, threatened to consume her as she struggled to process his words.

Y/N's eyes blazed with fury, her anger fueling her resolve as she confronted him head-on. "And what of the whispers about you and Lady Arnold?" she challenged, her voice dripping with scorn. "Are you telling me you had no part in fueling those rumors? That you never kissed her?"

Benedict recoiled at the accusation, the shame of his actions burning like a branding iron against his conscience. "No, Y/N, I swear it wasn't like that," he admitted, his voice laced with desperation. "There was a moment…" He paused, contemplating confession and it's consequences. He closed his eyes wincing at what he's about to say, "We did kiss, but it meant nothing. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment that I deeply regret."

"A mistake?" she repeated incredulously, her voice tinged with disbelief. "A lapse in judgment? Do you expect me to believe that, Benedict? Do you expect me to simply forgive and forget?"

Benedict's eyes pleaded with her, his desperation palpable as he reached out to grasp her hand. "Y/N, please, I know I've made a terrible mistake," he implored, his voice trembling with remorse. "But I swear to you, it meant nothing. I assure you, it was inconsequential. You are the one I am committed to, the one I wish to be with. Lady Arnold made advances, and I rejected them. It was a momentary lapse in which I failed to uphold my commitment to you."

Y/N's shoulders slumped with the weight of Benedict's words, her resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his confession. She sank down onto a nearby chair, her breath hitching as tears welled in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks in silent rivulets. With trembling hands, she buried her face in her palms, the anguish of betrayal and heartache washing over her in relentless waves.

The room seemed to blur around her, the vibrant colors of the decor fading into a haze as she struggled to come to terms with the devastation of Benedict's admission. His words echoed in her mind, each syllable a painful reminder of the trust that had been shattered beyond repair.

How could she believe him? How could she trust that his words held any semblance of truth when his actions had spoken so loudly against him? The image of Benedict with Lady Arnold haunted her, a specter of doubt and uncertainty that threatened to consume her from within.

But amidst the turmoil of her emotions, a glimmer of resolve flickered deep within Y/N's heart. She may have been broken, battered by the storm of betrayal, but she refused to let Benedict's actions define her worth. With a steadying breath, she lifted her head, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the soft glow of candlelight.

"I thought you were different, Benedict," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, "But I... I don't know if I can forgive you. The pain you've caused runs deep, and I fear that trust may never be fully restored."

Benedict's heart shattered at the sight of Y/N's tears, his own anguish mirrored in her sorrowful expression. Without hesitation, he sank to his knees beside her, his hand reaching out tentatively to brush against her trembling shoulder.

"Y/N, please," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand if you can't forgive me, if you can't find it in your heart to trust me again. But I swear to you, with every fiber of my being, I love you. I would give anything to make things right between us, to earn back your trust and your love."

His words hung in the air, a fragile plea borne of remorse and desperation. He longed to take her in his arms, to hold her close and shield her from the pain he had caused. But he knew that he had to respect her boundaries, to give her the space she needed to process her emotions and come to her own decision.

Y/N's shoulders trembled beneath his touch, her tears flowing unabated as she struggled to find the strength to meet his gaze. The weight of his words pressed down upon her, a bittersweet reminder of the love they had shared and the trust that had been so brutally betrayed.

For a moment, it seemed as though Y/N might succumb to Benedict's heartfelt plea. Her eyes softened, her resolve wavering in the face of his earnest confession. But then, with a trembling breath, she pulled away from his touch, her tears still glistening in the dim light of the room.

"I... I need some air," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. Without another word, she stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor in a jarring echo of their fractured connection.

With a determined tilt of her chin, Y/N lifted the glass to her lips, downing the remaining contents in one swift motion. The bitter taste of the alcohol burned her throat, a sharp contrast to the ache in her heart as she turned away from Benedict, her steps heavy with the weight of her decision.

Benedict watched helplessly as she made her way to the door, his heart breaking with each retreating footfall. He longed to call out to her, to beg her to stay, but he knew that it was futile. The damage had been done, the rift between them too deep to bridge in a single moment of remorse.

As Y/N disappeared through the doorway, leaving him alone amidst the wreckage of their shattered relationship, Benedict felt a hollow emptiness settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew that he had lost her, perhaps forever, condemned to a lifetime of regret for the pain he had inflicted upon the woman he loved. And as he sank to the chair, his heart heavy with sorrow, he prayed for a chance at redemption, a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of their once bright future.

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fayes-fics · 2 months

Text

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers.

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer.

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered.

“Are you sure?”

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him.

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict.

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room.

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby.

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you.

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?”

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later.

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse.

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank.

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours. “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome.

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot.

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is.

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body.

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area.

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.” His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise.

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you.

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time.

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly.

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does.

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone.

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage.

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm.

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world.

Which to you both, they are.

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thetalkoftheton · 24 hours

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Benedict: Sometimes, I wake up grumpy...

Y/N: *Hiding under the blanket* Go away, Benedict. It is not morning yet.

Benedict: And sometimes I let them sleep.

Y/N: Who on earth are you narrating too?

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton reader insert #incorrect bridgerton #incorrect bridgerton quotes #bridgerton incorrect quotes #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton

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atlabeth · 1 month

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(not so) simple masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

status: complete!

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple. that is, of course, until it isn't.

featuring fake dating/courtship, minor rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining that they think is unrequited, slowish burn, hurt/comfort, a signature bridgerton happily ever after, and my blood sweat and tears!

total wc: 44,497

overall warning(s): historical inaccuracies, period typical misogyny, implied/referenced sexual harassment -- individual, more specific warnings on each chapter. reader is referred to with the last name worthing for convenience

part 1 ↳ 10k words | miss worthing makes an awful sort of proposal to the viscount bridgerton.

part 2 ↳ 7.1k words | miss worthing despises and enjoys the viscount bridgerton's company in equivalence.

part 3 ↳ 9.7k words | miss worthing has a terrible realization.

part 4 ↳ 7.6k words | the viscount has a revelation and miss worthing decides against her heart.

part 5 ↳ 9k words | miss worthing and the viscount find themselves at a crossroads.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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ladysharmaa · 3 months

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My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

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imthebadguyyy · 5 months

Text

the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

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the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

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frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming.

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out.

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

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a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️