Benedict Bridgerton X Female Reader - Tumblr Posts

Hi! I love all of your writing, could please do Benedict and best friend reader at a ball and he over hears some girls bullying reader and goes OFF and reader runs off and he thinks he’s embarrassed her but when he finds her she explains she found it super hot and then some smut please! 💖

You are in love 1 || B.B

Part 2 of " you are in love"

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x best friend! Reader, + Polin

Warning: fem! reader, no description of reader, friendly flirting and teasing, mutual pinning, use of inappropriate words, reader has a step sister. Fluff and angst, part 1 of you are in love. Part : 2 will be smut

Rigel's note 🪩: Thank you for requesting, and the compliment<3333 *smooches* I hope you don't mind me doing it in two parts :) the title is taken from Taylor Swift's song " you are in love", it popped as soon as I read best friend reader, hope it's not as bad as it's in my head, sending love back, also part 2 soon.

" Perks of being a woman, you don't have to dance with Eloise bridgerton." You remarked when it was the fifth time Eloise stepped on lord White's toe.

Benedict snorted on his lemonade as he looked at you sideways, his iconic lop sided grin plastered to his smug face.

" I was her dance partner, " Benedict fake sniffed, wiping the fake tear, ", that too, before she started lessons."

You winced at the idea of Eloise before her lesson and gave Benedict a pat on his back for being ever the sacrifice.

" I thought that's why you danced wierd " you told him, smiling when he looked at you scandalously.

" Excuse me ?! " He narrowed his eyes, " you take that back ! " He slammed the glass down with force.

" Will not, you dance like...like a snowman ! " You beamed, slamming your fan down and glaring back, nose to nose, eye to eye.

" That never stopped you from dancing with me." He said smugly and retreated to his space with a satisfied look in his eyes when your jaw slacked slightly.

" You don't dance like a snowman with me." you told him in a small voice and that's when it hit you how gracefully he twirled you around when he was practically running away from other beautiful young ladies.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling at you as he raised his brow, like in a question.

" And why would you think that ? " His mouth twisted and you didn't know what to say.

" Perhaps because I dance well...? " You tried and despite it being not the answer he expected, he laughed all the same.

" You dance like a ... a Kangaroo." Benedict thought hard and a muscle in his jaw twitched, he smiled proudly when he got the right word to annoy you.

" What's a kangaroo ? " You asked, you had heard it somewhere but it was easier to ask him than think hard.

" It's like..." Benedict motioned with his hands something like a vase," it's a cute animal." He finally said when nothing more could be made out from his gestures.

"Oh." You nodded and then it hit you, " Did you just call me an ANIMAL ?! " You snarled at him and he shaked his head with a chuckle.

" I called you cute too." He squabbled.

" Kangaroo's aren't cute ! " You jabbed at him and he chuckled, grabbing your wrist firmly, a spark so bright jolted inside you and you felt your face grow hot.

" Then I don't dance like a snowman—" you sticked your tongue out at him and he was lost in words, just looking, you saw the opportunity and yanked your hand away from his grip. He relented like a gentleman.

" You are always like..like running away and leaning off while dancing and it's so so snowman like." You argued and Benedict's eyes twinkled like moon.

" Have you seen a snowman waltzing ? " Benedict asked and you shaked your head, while clutching at your chest, you couldn't help the giggling.

" Yes if we are talking about a tall, handsome and smug snowman."

" You think I am handsome ? " Benedict ducked his head closer to your face and you felt your breath hitching in your throat, like air was punched out of your chest.

You rolled your eyes when it became too apparent that no word would come out of your traitorous throat and you couldn't help but gaze back at him, he looked back just the same, all fire and blaze.

" You didn't answer my question." He said slowly, each word carefully and it squeezed your heart how close his face was, how beautiful those eyes were, and that nose, and those cheeks, those lines when he smiled, he oftened and it was so warm and gorgeous, how you never noticed how captivating he was, every atom of his body was tied with an invisible thread with yours, a golden one. And you would be damned to think of that mouth, your lips parted at the ethereal site and Benedict smiled at that.

" No." You just said it, eager to say anything and break this moment, it was swirling you around in a storm.

" No ? " He questioned, frowning and he was handsome at that too, you were so doomed.

" You are silly like handsome, like some lord Byron poetry." you murmured softly, safe guarding the hammering heart in your chest and blinking at the sudden burn from his gaze on you, drinking you in, his brow knitted in funny way, a mock annoyance crossed his face.

" Lord Byron ?! Really, " he dropped back to his seat and you finally took a breath, then he covered his face like a damsel in distress and when he glanced sideways at you, he was smiling his brightest, oh, you just realised how goofy and precious and mesmerizing his smile was, you wished to stop time and paint it under your lids so everytime you close your eyes, you could meet him there, in your secret gardens and then a death like that would be sweeter.

" What ? " You exasperated when he refused to look away, even when your nose wrinkled and face basked in it's warmth, he wouldn't let go of you, taking each and every detail in like he was wishing to stop time too and paint you. He could, he was an artist.

" You called me poetry..." His mouth quirked up in a delightful grin, like it explained all the merry and you groaned, looking away as you huffed the tingling in your body that wouldn't go, your eyes landed on a very eventful moment.

" Is that our Colin ? " You raised your brow at Benedict who sat up straighter and turned his gaze to the other side of the hall.

" Why is he eye murdering lord Debling ? " You asked him, he winked and pulled your chair closer, not caring if any mama saw or perhaps lady whistledown herself.

" Penelope is dancing with lord Debling, and well she's laughing at something too, oh—" Benedict whispered in the shell of your ear and you barely nodded, Colin looked like he had enough, he was making his way through the crowd towards Pen.

" Forty shillings if he punches lord Debling." You piped up, Benedict shaked his head.

" You are gonna lose cupcake, he's gonna take Miss Featherington's hand and—" you gasped when Colin stopped abruptly, said something urgently and took Penelope's wrist between his hand, Benedict cocked his head to his side and winked smugly.

" And ? " You drawled and it amused Benedict beyond limits, like he has been waiting for it.

" Birds and bees." He said in a code like hushed whisper, you smacked the back of his head.

" I don't have a mother, you know." You told Benedict and he touched his upper lip with the tip of his pink tongue, he nodded along knowingly.

" Well, someone's gotta teach you."

" Mm.. you are my best friend." You would look anywhere but at him but your eye's were locked in his, he was being brave then so can you. One step, not much.

" I can not tell you birds and bee." Benedict said sincerely.

" Colin helped Pen ! " You said, nose flaring as he worried his jaw but didn't say anything.

" He told her how kids are made, something like going to a farm and then...well he kissed her but that's not the point." You blurted in a whisper, he listened intently.

" He kissed her already ? "

" Well a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell but a lady can, but that's not the point! " You pouted, his resistance crumbled but then again, bloody bridgerton.

" That's not my place cupcake." He was breathing hard, his mouth would open and snap close again, taking back all the things left unsaid.

" Well then—" you hated how choked your voice got, you tried, didn't you, it's not like you left it on god's cue, this was the biggest hint you could have given him and if he didn't got this, then only bricks might work.

Give him one more, a small voice said in your head, it was yours, but stronger and braver than you.

" —then you can tell me about love."

Benedict laughed on that, like it was the funniest thing you had said.

" You know what? I take it back, I am gonna ask someone—" you smoothed your skirt and began to get up when he pulled you down.

" Sorry, I didn't mean that, sorry, don't go leaving me stranded." He pleaded.

You looked at him hard, looking for any sign of humour and you found none, he was glittering when he clapped his tongue and opened his mouth, his soft tongue resting like a tired cat.

" Love," he began," is like music."

" Like music." You repeated, struggling with the fit laughter that shook your shoulders.

Benedict glanced at you offended but when he spoke next, it was how the poets said, with longing and desire, like bleeding for your beloved and when no blood was left then it was ink and parchment.

" You can hear it in the silence." He said, you remembered those afternoons when no word was said between you and your bestfriend and yet nothing was hidden and left unsaid.

" You can feel it on your way home." He said, penetrating his gaze in you eyes and he remembered damn well that night after he rescued you from the lake when you almost drowned, the terror of losing you, the spark of holding you closer than ever.

" You can see it with the light's out, it's so bright and golden." Everything is more beautiful with you Benedict, you told him one Sunny afternoon, basking under a tree while he read you poetry, Better than Byron.

" Loving that one person will make you love yourself, with them, you are enough." He was whispering now, chest heaving as his hand trembled and unknowingly yours found his under the table, locked eye's and joined hands and sacred whispered chants. It was enough.

" You aren't too much, or too little, or loud or boring, you don't have to be interesting or witty or anything, being youself with them is enough." I like myself with you, he had told you when you were sixteen.

" That's love, being safe with them is love, being their home is love, to be able to leave all shades behind and be naked in just body and soul and not being afraid, not being embarassed is love."

" Benedict..." Your voice was soft and sweet and it took him a moment to realise he was crying, when you gently wiped it's proof with your handkerchief.

" I...I will be back in a moment—" he stumbled out, still smiling a small smile and oh god what you have done, you have ruined him as well your self and nothing will ever be the same.

" Yes...." You said, because he was waiting for your approval, he nodded back when he got it and disappeared amongst the crowd as you watched him leave.

Love was indeed like music, the one you liked, it could be light as bee buzzing and sharp as thunder roaring in clouds, it could be slow and rhythmic and soft like water flowing, it could be the sound of his laughter and the way he drew his breath, it could be how he whined and joked and played and teased, for you, love was the music and muse of Benedict bridgerton and yes, you were very much doomed.

" What a pleasant site, a spinster smiling on her own, have you planned some scandalous plan of yours to bag some noble man ? " Claire wheezed in a duckling like laughter, shared with Asha Patil and Gissele Turner.

You refused to say anything, it only further added spice to their boring marital lives, with their husbands out and wombs empty.

" Would you look at her ? She's giving us that attitude, no wonder she's still unmarried ! " Scowled Asha, with her frizzy hair and crooked nose, her eyes coated in loathing of most tainted kind.

" She might had gotten the ring if she wasn't being Mr. Bridgerton's bitch." Gissele whispered it down to you and anger shot up through your veins and your eyes snapped to her, it didn't matter if she was your elder sister and the rage that blinded you was so fierce that you didn't feel when two big tears rolled down your cheek.

" Don't cry now, you can always be his mistress atleast." They all laughed, loud and big and white teeth flashing, with their fake diamond rings rubbing in your eyes but it was too blur, you saw nothing, you heard nothing, everything was drowning around you.

" Speaking of mistresses, Lord Hasting has bought a bigger estate for his mistress than your home in east London and I wouldn't blame him lady Hasting."

You can hear it in the silence.

It was your love's voice, it was your Benedict speaking and you lifted your mascara stained lashed eyes at him.

If you had known him less than you couldn't have known of the terrible anger that was shaking him, that smile was no ordinary, it was feral and stray, wanting to tear anyone who dared to come near, he was burning in anger that was beyond words.

Claire sizzled at that remark, turning her hand to her palm side and only moments ago she was flashing her ring and now, she was hiding it.

" Don't ruin your reputation by showing ungratefuls such as her your pity Mr. Bridgerton." It would've hurt less, were it Claire or Asha, but it was your own half sister, be it half blood but blood all the same.

" Lady Turner, i have no wish to speak to you, you have hurt my best friend beyond words, you had taken her affections for granted so if someone's ungrateful then it's sorely you, you don't deserve a sister like her, she's too good for all of us." He was carefully placing the word and his anger slipped between, his teeth grinded and breath hitched, you stared, just at him and him, everything was getting dimmer but you knew in that moment, you would know him in darkness.

you can feel it with the light's out.

He had done many things for you, Benedict stole Anthony's horse to take you out on a midnight ride, he nicked Colin's sword and taught you fencing, bought ribbons of your favourite pastel silk, saved your favourite sweets, and so many and so more, but this was something you couldn't have done yourself if you wanted, he had done it, he had stood up for you and it was the most gleaming moment of your life, he wasn't playing hero, he wasn't being mean, he was protecting your with your honour and Benedict, the gentleman who wouldn't hurt a fly, he was going to dagger them down with words alone.

He was speaking and speaking and they were all quiet, their eyes low and nose bowed down, he was speaking and speaking, words clear with pure affection and respect and then your felt it.

The warmness aroused in your womanhood and an inaudible gasp parted through your lips as you felt the slicky wet feeling caress your inner thigh and the sensation was so electrifying that you had to close your eyes in order to take a breath and even then, you could feel his words, soft and praising, " ......if you were half good as a woman she is....." He was breathless and he wasn't stopping and something inside you wanted to cup his face and tell him, don't Stop, never stop.

And then his eyes looked for you, he found your gaze and held it and you felt the shame, you couldn't do this to him, this burning desire would take you both down in flames and what it would be to become one, only in ashes, it was scaring you.

And before you could think of say anything, you were already on your feet, stumbling through the crowd with your gown kissing the floor behind you.

You didn't know where you were going but far, away and this feeling wouldn't let go, you knew well but you wanted air, the warmness that was spreading was maddening and the hunger was tugging under your skin.

He was calling out your name, you hated yourself but you needed to run, this love would ruin you, what if Benedict hated you if you told him how you felt, how you thought about him, would he call you a whore along with Gissele, would it hurt more ?

More than anything.

His voice turned to pleading as crowd thickened and you were getting out of his sight. You wouldn't look back, because if you did then you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from doing something very stupid.

You were out of the gates, descending down the stairs as one heel slipped out but you didn't care, you were on a run.

Johnny was already motioning the horses as you frantically climbed in, you could see Colin chasing down Penelope's carriage in a distance as you opened the window to inhale heavy gulps of air.

Would Benedict Chase you down too ? Would he come and look for you ? And if he did, what would you tell him ?

You are my best friend.

Part 2

GIVE ME MORE BENEDICT SHORTS NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW 😖😖😖😭😭😭 I BEGGGGGG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️

Just like that | B.B

Warning: 18 +, handjob, cock worshipping, first time, inexperienced!reader ( lemme know if any other ) words : 1k

Rigel's note 🪩 : just because you begged ;) [ nah, ily ] got the idea from the emoji btw, thanks for being cute Mic <333 My requests are open everyone :)

" Like this ? "

He shaked his head and in swift soundless movements, he was behind you. His whole body was pressed to you and his face just mere inches away from caressing your cheek. He was quite amused when your dropped your brush.

" Here—" Benedict picked it up and his fingertips lingered more than it should before a cocky smile made it's way to his beautiful face.

" No, no." He pouted and took your wrist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he guided your stance, " like this, see, now—" He began moving his hand that armoured around yours, the soused brush stroked against the canvas in smooth easy way.

" Is this good ? " You made the mistake of turning your face to him, he smiled when your cheeks flushed pink, a shade your brush withheld but not as bright as it glittered you. Benedict made no effort to back away, his breath mingled with yours as his mouth lowered carefully, slowly and slowly, his fingers brushed against your face, thumb caressing the colour he had painted you in.

" This is very good." He whsipered on your lips breathlessly, taking the brush away from your hand and you gave in, his eye's never leaving yours, he enjoyed it very much.

" Benedict...." You gasped when he held your waist, pulling you closer, your eye's widened and he exhaled delightfully, you could feel his hardened desire against you.

His nose nuzzled on your hot skin and you crumbled against his proximity, he was hardening more, his erection was shooting shivers down in your bones and flesh.

" I am out of my mind." He breathed sharply as he withdrew his hands, shaking from holding back from you.

His expressions were pained as he closed his eyes, what you wouldn't give to see him smile, to take this pain away.

Your eyes, shameless as they got, stared at his crotch, Benedict's jaw slacked when he caught you red handed and you looked up, too dazed.

" Funny isn't, the thing you do to me." He laughed but it was humour less, it burned with longing and want and accusation. He ran a hand through his hair, biting down his lower lip.

" Benedict I..." He looked up, you stumbled on your words, your hands trembled, you were always a curious one, but it was more than curiousity. It was desire and passion.

" Can I touch you ? " Your heart was racing so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if it broke out of your ribs and fell, instead you would pick it up and give it to Benedict, it belonged to him anyway.

Benedict blinked, once and then the corner of his lips quirked, he cleared his throat and his adam rippled, it amazed you how beautiful and rhythmic everything about him was.

" Are you...are you sure ? " He all but groaned, his eyes were twinkling, like a dream come true, you nodded.

Your hands were getting sweaty as Benedict removed his breeches, he chuckled when you stared, no, you were gawking at his length.

Benedict was well built, everything about him was big and loud and as it felt, there was no exceptions.

And the next you knew was that, he was beautiful, nerves pulsed rhythmically as his eyes dazed, his mouth curved when he sat on the couch, you were standing in front of him, still gawking.

" You are...you are beautiful." You said looking up from your lashes, realising you had said it out aloud. Benedict's grin was splitting his whole face, reaching ear to ear.

You moved slowly and carefully, wiping your hands on your satin clothes, he was too beautiful and precious, you were afraid to leave marks.

You tips touched the head of his cock, and it twitched at the contact, Benedict huffed a strained breath, he was smiling. A electrifying force jolted from the touch, shooting in your whole body, you buzzed inside out, when you looked up at him, you smiled too.

" It's... it's wet." You said, thumb caressing his tip as if it were his cheek, sticky silvery fluid beaming it up.

" Uh huh." Benedict shifted, a gasp escaped his lip as he tried to bite it down when you held him in your fist, he liked that, you could that tell behind the pain, there was pleasure indeed.

You applied pressure, Benedict's eyes softened, " move, " he moaned, cupping your hand and guiding it up and down in smooth strokes, he was being so needy and it drived you crazy, how much you wanted to please him.

" like this ? " You asked, a playful smile playing on your lips.

He nodded languidly, eyes blown when you increased your pace, he was panting and his throat started making sounds that came deeper from his body, your palm were slippery with his fluid as you were breathing hard, your stomach clenched to think how beautiful a naked Benedict would look, how perfectly you would paint him, just for yourself, your own masterpiece.

You felt your thighs tightened at how big he was, how beautiful, how soft and how warm. Benedict's head was thrown back as your heaving increased, the side of your hand hitting his groin, skin against skin as Benedict rolled his hip, he was majestic and magnificent.

" I will...I am gonna—" whatever he was going to say was drowned in a sharp cry as waves of white silvery cum flashed in a joltic eruption, it got on your face, your hands, your chest, your whole body.

Benedict was chanting your name as he came, his cheeks flushed, lids blown.

He looked wide, he couldn't hide how much he liked the sight of you like this, dripping in his cum as he tucked a strand of your hair back.

" Baby, just like that." He smiled, kissing you hard and soft, all glitter and confetti.

You are in love 11 | B.B

Part 1 of " You are in love "

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x best friend! Reader

Warning: smut, 18+, p in v ( rough), fingering, fluffy fluff, Idiots in love, might have used whore, use of f word( alot) double orgasm, teasing, inexperienced! Reader, horny! Reader

Rigel's note 🪩: aftermath of my " You are in love 1 ", this is the confrontation and smut part of the request. My cow is so angry at me—i write so cringe sometimes, 10 points to your house if you find 1989 ref other than title.

You can hear it in the silence...

It was only a minute after you laid in your bed, you heard it, a soft thud against your window followed by another.

Your heart dreaded because it wasn't the first time your best friend had thrown rocks at your window, first time—when he called you a duck in front of lord Ivor, a childhood memory and second when he was bored so he thought calling upon his fairer sex friend would be the best choice and another time—

This particular one was very violent against the glass and for a moment you wondered if it would break, you pushed the blankets aside, feeling the night chill settle in your bones as you pulled your night gown closer.

Your feet touched the cold floor, chill reaching up your spine as you dragged yourself to the window and there he was.

Basking under the moonlight and ever so beautiful, his cheeks flushed like he had run miles and his heart heaving, his eyes widened at your silhouette and a deep sigh escaped just after a smile took refuge on his lips, those treacherous lips.

You opened the window, he dropped the pebble.

" Benedict ! " You screamed whispered down at him, his smile grew but his expressions were pained, like he was deeply confused.

" Can we talk ? " It was loud and clear, echoing in the dark, he wasn't drunk but there was something very intoxicating about him.

You face palmed, feeling your heart sink because you still haven't forget the warm tingling, still haven't forgotten the way your heart cart wheeled along with everything inside you, crawling it's way to Benedict.

Every friendly castle crumbling in mere moments, just by remembering how tenderly his mouth moved when he was protecting you and how tenderly it would be to have it against your—

" Please, please, please, " He chanted, not attempting to keep it low, then he dropped to his knees and even in the dark you couldn't mistake the silvery bead, those were tears.

" Give me one chance, let me talk, let me—"

" I am coming ! " You leaned across the sill, telling him shush with your fingers as you backed away, running out of your room but tiptoeing all right, missing the third step because it creaked and opening the back door soundlessly to your secret gardens.

Despite the fear of getting caught and chill that was swirling, your own heart wasn't being much help, your face grew warm at the mere sight of him and let alone the other embarassing things that he did to you, just by existing.

" Are you mad ? " You stomped your feet across him, crossing your arms as he looked up, his knees penetrating in grass, like he was begging for all of his sins, like you were something to worship, like a false god.

Benedict's eyes were red in the moonish glow, he was radiating, he was crying, he was so very beautiful.

" You are really mad Benedict ! Go home, we will talk tomorrow—"

" I thought i lost you." He said, it was more of a cry but you were too baffled to form words anymore. He sniffed.

" I thought i would never see you again...when I lost you...my heart..my heart was the closest to exploding." He said, clutching his heart as his lips parted in a gasp. It was paining him but it pained you all the same.

" Oh Benedict." You whispered, your hand inevitably caressing his cheek as he shaked his head profusely.

" You don't understand how much... fuck...I came here all the way thinking you would be gone somewhere i couldn't follow...like i fucked everything again—"

" You ran all the way here ?! " You garbbed his chin, you knew it would hurt but you needed to know this.

" That's not the point." He avoided your gaze but you jerked him right up, eye to eye.

" Are you fucking mad Benedict ?! Are you drunk ? " You leaned to sniff his mouth but he only reeked of the few lemonade he downed with you.

" I...no...I am sorry." Benedict swallowed hard, his adam rolled and readjusted again and the warmness was there again, spreading through the creaks of your bones.

" That was really stupid Benedict." You said softly, you couldn't imagine what whistledown would write if she had seen him running wild.

" I know, I know...it just seemed right to me, like I couldn't stop myself even if I tried but I am sorry, i don't wanna lose you, and I meant it all, truly and completely." Benedict said, his hand grabbing your wrist like you would run away and leave him.

" Benedict we aren't talking about running..?"

Benedict's brow raised as he worried his jaw, his eyes dazed as they lingered on your lips more than it was approved by.

" I am talking about.. about my defending you but I swear I wasn't trying to be hero or some knight in shining armour, i just wanted to be there like you were always for me." He inhaled sharply, you were knocked out of your breath as you tried to breathe and speak and failing in both.

" I know..I know I have embarassed you deeply and i am so sorry, i am—"

" Benedict shut up." You yanked your hand away from his grip, breathing harder as he watched grimly, not making a sound.

" That..." You bited your lip, " I'm..." Your heart was beating too fast and your cheeks deepened in colour as you turned to him.

" Hot." You said finally, gripping your night gown as your knuckles went white, all blood rushing to your face and places too holy.

" You're hot ? " Benedict tried but a grin tiptoed it's way and it was so beautiful across his face that you wanted to feel it against your own lips. Shut up !

" What you did for me Benedict...it was...it was the hottest thing you ever did...you were..oh my god...you were on fire." You closed your eyes, feeling yourself vibrate throughout your body with just his heavy gaze.

" I thought," he recovered his slackened jaw, smiling like a star,", i embarassed you."

" You could never ! " You shaked your head, taking a step, not much, it was enough.

" And the time I called you a duckling? " He laughed, sound rich and melodic and that's how you loved him the most, free and feral.

" Well you could be an idiot sometimes." You chuckled softly, taking a deep breath as Benedict outstretched his hand.

" I know, I know...I am such an idiot and that's why I need you, I want you by my side." He said earnestly, you took his hand as he pulled you closer.

" This...it has been a torment all this time." He whispered it lowly, voice heavy as he kissed each word on your knuckles, your brain was dead in it's wake.

" Benedict." You exhaled, this would ruin you, there would be no coming back.

" I watched you leave and i...I thought what would become of me and there was only one answer—nothing, there's no me without you. I can't imagine a life where it's not us." He brought your palm closer to his lips, pressing them softly, inking each syllable.

" Benedict." You shaked your head because you would do something very stupid if he didn't stop, Benedict stood up, his knees buckling and making an odd sound.

" So you must know, it can't wait anymore because I can't keep it in, it's killing me." Oh how much it was killing you, little did he know, You felt the moment stop when he leaned down, his breath heavy on your cheek as his eyes darted to you.

" You're my best friend." He said, and you knew what it was, he is in love.

Then he kissed you, soft warm lips against yours and it was only a moment before he pulled away.

" I am sorry...fuck—"

" Don't ever apologise for that ! " You pulled him by his collar, crashing your lips again like waves meeting the shore, it was like your soul was crawling out for Benedict and nothing else mattered.

A moan escaped his mouth and your whole body shuddered at the sound he was making, those sound that drowned in your own mouth as your devoured him, you felt him grinning against you and oh you could die, In silent screams and even in your wildest dreams, you never dreamt of this.

Breathless, you spared a moment and he looked so beautiful with his swollen kissed lips beaming up with your saliva. Your.

" I... Benedict...more." your cheeks blazed, you were damn sure your ears were red because Benedict looked like he was about to die, his grin splitting his whole face in half.

" This..it was perfect ! " He said, dipping down to kiss your cheek, you thought he would pull away but he then rested his forehead against yours, your breathing leveling with his in synchronise. It felt real, all of it.

He pulled you by your waist, nose bumping in yours.

" I want to give you everything..." He breathed, " everything that you want."

" I want it Benedict." You were only half aware of the thing you wanted from him, perhaps to entwine your souls together, you weren't sure but this torment was too much.

His thumb caressed your lips and then your jaw, making stars and circles as he whispered in a amused little voice.

" We must wait—" you kissed him, hard on his mouth and you were sure someone's tooth was chipped but it melted the pain as soon as his mouth parted for you, his tongue swiping across your lower lip like a Eden's feather.

You were holding his face like it was your life support and he was too holding you back like you were his most precious treasure, his hands were slowly progressing up your thigh, your night gown sliding up. He stopped, you stopped tugging at his hair and felt him whine against your mouth, nipping in response. You guided his hand to your slick as oil womanhood, he gasped against you.

His eyes were shining brighter than every star that hanged high.

" Oh." His fingers touched you and you thought you would die just there, moaning like you never had.

" You are...you are wet." He said, his cheeks deepening in heat and colour, his smile becoming a grin as your eyes dazed.

" Fuck ! " You moaned, arching back when he swiped his one long finger against you, Benedict moaned just the same.

" Oh lord...oh lord..oh fucking lord." Benedict groaned, you were sure he smiled wickedly before his finger penetrated inside you.

The coil in your stomach lurched and something heavy dropped inside you.

" It might..it might.. might hurt." Benedict dropped his head to the crook of your neck, kissing once before he set his eyes on you.

You winced as one finger became two, pulsing inside you, your soul was no longer inside you and it was as if you were floating.

" Ben...oh—" you almost cried, your eyes tearing up when his pace increased and he was panting and shaking, his eyes widening when you came with a sharp cry, thighs shaking and turning to jelly as Benedict watched dazedly.

" Fuck i ruined..I ruined — " you looked as Benedict withdrew his fingers covered in silvery thick juices.

" Shhh... " He cooed, smiling as he brought his fingers to his mouth, you gawked as he wickedly sucked them in, humming at the sweetness. " You were beautiful."

" Can we..can we go inside ? " You were being nasty, you knew but what you wouldn't give to see Benedict, whole of him, raw and naked.

" I...I would love to but in order to keep your virtue intact—

" Shut up ! " You groaned, taking his hand.

" Anthony will kill me." He shrugged, entwinng your fingers together and they moulded like they were made for each other.

" I will kill you." You said, he smiled like the devil he was.

-

You can feel it on your way home...

" Hey." You laughed when he pinned you against your father's study, kissing you deeply, " shhh..." He smiled, lowering his head to your cleavage, licking it, placing open mouthed kisses all along.

" My father's on hunt, he will come tommorow" You whispered, the servants were the only concern and honestly, there was hardly any concern.

" Good, tommorow i am talking to you father." He smiled up at you, kissing your flesh and you mouthed all prayers you knew.

" Wh..y ? " You said, Benedict hoisted you up, his hands underneath your thigh as he carried you up, missing the third step because he knew, he has been here.

" To marry you my little kangaroo." He laughed when you deadpanned at him.

" Call me that vile thing again and I will say no." You hid your face in his neck, smiling.

" Well since you're smiling—ow"

" Not smiling! " You nipped at his skin, salty and just like Benedict, it was like a dream come true, to kiss him, to love him, to have him.

" What should I call you then cupcake ? " He pushed open the door, lowering you gently down on the couch as he backed away.

" Cupcake ? " You offered, he mouthed a 'sweet' before he removed his waist coat.

" Oh lord..." You gasped as one by one Benedict began to discard his clothes, his skin gleaming with sweat and beauty, he was like the one poets wrote poems about, he was artist but he was art in himself, dazzling and ever so mesmerising.

" C'mon, don't act like you're unimpressed." He wiggled his eyebrow, teasing as he started to work on his breeches, you felt warmth tingling throughout you, you demanded touch because you were starving.

" You're like a poetry." You said, it was more of a breath but he heard it anyway, stopping as held the last bits of dignity together.

" You have called me poetry earlier too."

" Byron's poetry."

" But poetry indeed." He dropped the last clothing, naked and bare in front of you and like every bit about him, he was beautiful.

" My snowman..." You couldn't hold back the grin, Benedict was all macho and bravado but it crumbled when he strided towards you, he so wanted you to like him, every bit of him, whole of him and you did, with your whole heart you would love this man, forevermore.

" Yours." He mouthed, coming over you, his fingers undoing your nightgown and it was revealed that Benedict was rather good with buttons.

He sensed the way your body shivered at his touch, his fingers examining the work he did there with his mouth, he looked at you, you nodded, your night gown slipped down.

" Oh my...you have been hiding this from me ?! From an artist ?! " He sniffed down your body, placing tender kisses all over.

" Really ? I don't know...never thought I was much of bea—" Benedict shut you up with a kiss.

" You're the most gorgeous person I ever met and-" he kissed you again, " my sweet little kangaroo, so please." He shaked his head.

His length twitched on your thigh and you dare not look down.

" It's okay." He said, " all yours." He added with a wink, you glanced at his hardened leaking length, red angry at its head.

A desire in you swirled, to touch it, to hold it, to claim it, you brought your hand before Benedict pulled away, scaring you.

" I am sorry, I am sorry." You threw your hands back, Benedict opened his mouth abruptly.

" Oh no, i would let you fence with it later but right now I really really want to make it good for you."

" Right...I don't know what it meant but..that fencing part Benedict?! " You giggled, Benedict laughed, placing himself between your legs.

" It...it might hurt babe." He said, you stopped giggling.

" Not much." He assured, placing a kiss on your stomach, you so needed to be filled by him, his slender fingers could make you see heaven, you were dying to think where his thickness would take you. He was going to split you, you were going to very much enjoy it.

" Are you sure.. because..we can just do any other time...like wait for marriage, " you made a face, " not that I am not interested...you have no idea how much I am dying to see you scream my name."

" Benedict." You teased, putting all your seduction in it, Benedict eye rolled fondly.

" Oh Benedict! " You said it louder, Benedict eyes were blazing, the vein on his neck was throbbing like worm set free.

" You have no idea what you have done." He practically growled, taking your hand as his tip teased your entrance, you really didn't.

Your heart stopped when only his tip pushed through your folds, your resistance at it's peak, a beak of sweat tricked down your cleavage, Benedict closed his eyes, muttering something.

" Fuck..fuck you're so tight." He hastily said, his length pressing inside, you looked at how he was only half inside but you were already panting and moaning like a whore.

" Oh fuck ! " You screamed as he pushed all at once inside you, his hips smacking against yours making an obscene noise.

" I am gonna make you see stars." He said, his voice shaky but determination was dripping as he slowly thursted, once—your head threw back, twice—you were no longer bounded in body and space, thrice—your eyes closed and it was just stars and cosmic rays, you lost count and control as Benedict set his pace in a feral way, he was pushing inside you like beast set free, his hips rolled and slammed down at you with an alarming rate, they left a burning pain before he striked again.

" Benedict ! " You were screaming, your breasts rolling up and down and he watched devilishly, penetrating into your hole, plunging inside, your jaw slackened like his, his drool dripped down as he was lost somewhere, in his own daze.

He pounded inside you, his breath caught in his throat and his face red, you only half registered when he lowered his whole body, his mouth inches away from you and his thursted one final hard one.

" Oh my god ! " He bited his lips, his knees buckling as his cry sharpened, you felt the insides of your swirl with warmness, arching back, mouth agape with moans he brought out of you, the coil inside your stomach loosened as you came, body going limp. It was the second time you felt mere smoke in existence, everything dizzied while you short circuited.

You opened your eyes to look at him, your devil, your snowman, he was panting, his hair plastered to his forehead, his smile dazed.

" Was it good? " He nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck, you were aware of his juices mixing with yours inside you and it made your nipples hard, just by thinking.

" Ama..zing." you kissed his forehead, his limp cock still inside you, you liked how full it made you feel, like complete.

" I was thinking about a snowman waltzing." He laughed lowly, it's sound buzzing inside your skin, you didn't get why.

" Why ? "

" Umm...to last longer because.. because I would have come just by the way you looked at me."

" I was looking like a perv ?! " You huffed, he glanced up, his mouth easing your hardened nipple, speaking around it.

" Oh yes, like you couldn't get enough of me, you have compromised me, now you must marry me to keep my virtue entact." He sucked back again, you chuckled, feeling the corner of your eyes glistented with tears.

It was several moments gone, his head on your chest as you scatched his scalp, untangling his hair and occasionally pulling him for a kiss, he was still inside you, coaxing inside your warmness, relishing.

" Benedict." You whispered, not bothering if he had slept already.

" Huh." He mumbled softly, heavy with sleep.

" You're my best friend." you knew what it was, you are in love.

Can you write an image in which Benedict is obsessed with Y/N and is always looking for reasons to touch her. However, Y/N knows that when it comes to women, Benedict quickly gets what he wants... sex. She keeps him waiting and doesn’t sleep with him until the wedding day.

Obsessed with you | I

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab!reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor is obsessed with the mystery lady in silver, and would do anything to have her

Warning: Reader's mother has issues, scandalous family, last name Rose for convience, Benedict being a smug bastard, some regency class differences, cute Polin, cute kathony, minor non-con touching, smoking cigar, lots of teasing and ofcourse obsessive and possession behaviour. Might be toxic! Benedict but please he's a cutie.

Dearest gentle readers,

While for sure we have seen former Rake now Kate's beloved whipped husband, and Colin bridgerton who is so smitten with his dearest wife that it will not come forward a surprise if he hasn't set foot out in all these days, but Benedict bridgerton is neither whipped nor smitten, he is, as the poets would whisper, obsessed. It will be amusing to know who this mystery lady is, with her dazzling silver gown and piercing eyes, sharp enough as she carved the gentleman's heart out.

Benedict was a man for art and muse so forgive him if he got so obsessed with you, the real question was, how could he not ? You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, clad in your most dazzling blue dress that he wanted nothing but to take off.

" She exaggerates." Anthony pouted, he shouldn't know that he had but he's been pouting a lot lately, it's called 'kateffect'

" No, you've been domesticated brother, just admit it, Kate has tamed you." Colin peppered, sprawling down next to Anthony who greeted him with the most glaring glare.

" Like you're any better." Anthony smirked, setting his gaze on Benedict who read the index again.

" Penelope doesn't know her name ? " Benedict worried his jaw, looking between his brothers.

" I take that back, Penelope didn't exaggerate, you're really very much obsessed." Anthony remarked, Colin nodded.

" Oi, she would've known your mystery lady's full name and history but—"

" Don't complete that, I'll duel you."

" In the middle of a ball ? " Benedict laughed, eyes amused, Colin turned a crimson red.

" Rather tempting—"

" Oi! " Anthony raised his brow, his mouth curving in disdain, as Colin staggered away, leaving Anthony praying to lord behind like he was any better.

" Oh dear." Benedict smiled when once alone, thumb caressing the index, as if it was the mystery lady in silver blue gown, accused of taking away the gentleman's heart.

" Who are you ? " He whispered.

_

" Ma'am, would you like something else ? " Mrs. Turner asked once you were seated on your dressing, playing with several glassy bottles with colourful scenty substances.

" In yesterday's masquerade ball, I was dancing with a Bridgerton—" Mrs. Turner tutted softly," He's Benedict bridgerton, i assume."

" Yes, indeed, the only bachelor bridgerton boy of age." Mrs. Turner pulled the corset strings and you gasped, feeling your internals squeeze in the process.

You smiled, thinking about the way Benedict looked at you, all stars in his eyes.

" I..it is not my place miss but as your well wisher, i would say.." she worried her jaw.

" It's okay Mrs. Turner, you should speak your mind." You assured her, feeling her fingers stop at your back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror.

" Benedict bridgerton's a rake, unlike any other gentleman... he's known to engage women with class and wits...artists, musicians, and other dimplomacy that are odd amongst our sex."

" Oh." You nodded, feeling stupid enough to think those were meant for you, like they were of real affection.

" I wouldn't want you any harm, after your father's death and your inheritance affairs, you couldn't afford another scandal, for a good match—"

" My virtue should stay intact ? " You raised your chin, examining the stain of rose on your lips.

" Your sister was a good girl madam, so are you." Mrs. Turner smiled, her eyes crinkling with deepest concerns.

-

Benedict's eyes were searching for you everywhere, he has been waiting for you since so long. Despite anxious mamas forcing introductions and dances, he was looking only for you.

" Miss Rose." Benedict turned to see his sister in law, smiling a smirk, followed by her husband in tow.

" You wound me Pen, it's Benedict bridgerton! " He laughed, much to Colin's dismay.

" Oh well your mystery lady is Miss Rose, daughter of late Duke of Blair field and lady bloom." Colin was one step away from clapping.

" Wow." Benedict's mouth curved in a delightful 'o'.

" Oh well they are rather scandalous, her sister was rumoured to be not a virgin which deceased all of her prospects of marriages, her mother is rather protective of her."

" Pen, did I tell you how you're my favourite sister ? " Benedict perked his gaze towards the entrance, hoping for you to bless him.

" Don't let Eloise hear that." Colin said, outstretching his arm that Penelope held as they swirled between the crowd, laughing.

_

" You shall not be unchaperoned." Your mother had a faraway look in her eyes, her hand was trembling and you surged the desire to just hold it.

" I understand, mama." You bowed your head once, trying to forget the trembling of her hands.

" Don't engage in gossips dearest, better keep to yourself and..." She forgot what she was saying, her lips trembling along, you looked at Mrs. Turner with a pleading gaze.

" Ma'am, we must make haste." She simply said, your mother spared a glance to you, her mouth tightening around the corners.

" You look beautiful child." She looked away, you pretended not to see the tear that glistented down her cheek.

After securing yourself in the carriage, with your dress squeezing the life out you, you finally breathed.

" I envy Gissele." You said softly, caressing the uneven glittering fake diamonds.

" She would say the same." Mary mumbled, she was Mrs. Turner's daughter who rather got scolded every often for being too blunt. You liked her alot.

" Oh wouldn't it be so wonderful to just lay in bed, reading a book and wearing simple soft dresses." You perked up at the idea of a life like that, a simple homely cottage, filled with warmth and sweetness and books.

" But the society has it's own fun, look at you, pretty dresses, pretty shoes, and all those prince charming lords." Mary took your fan and mimicked the motion, you smiled.

" Well you could always borrow a dress, have some fun." Your eyes glinted, Mary shaked her head.

" C'mon." You grabbed her wrist, shaking them, up and down profusely.

" No, mama will kill me ! "

" But the fun ?! No one would know, they haven't seen me, they don't know me."

" Well i can't pretend to be you, what would happen if somebody caught us."

" Don't then, be yourself ! Mary Turner."

" Sounds like a bad idea." Mary said, her smile deceived her.

" Lord Turner of Riverdales, be their relative, no one hardly pays attention."

" Whistledown does." Mary narrowed her eyes, you looked out to make sure you haven't yet reached.

" Well she called me a mystery woman who apparantly took a gentleman's heart."

" Oh Mr. Bridgerton's a known gentleman." You scoffed at that, Mary's brow knitted together as she studied you.

" What ? He's a rake." You brushed the tingling away, feeling the way Benedict's gaze lingered on you, the way he twirled you around like you were the only real thing, the way he flushed and stumbled through his words, attempting to know absolutely anything about you.

" I highly doubt that, never heard anything about him."

" Presumably he has a longing for accomplised women." You finger quoted it with a scowl that was too unladylike, Mary bursted into fits of giggles.

" What ? " You poked her, she shaked with her guffaw, chortling in her way.

" You fancy him." She said, chuckling the ' him' away, you frowned deeply, heart leaping at the ton that was gathered outside lady Danbury's exquisite ball.

" Utter rubbish. Do you still want to have fun ? " You asked, Mary smiled.

_

Benedict gaze perked up when you and Mary stumbled through the ball, Mary was almost shaking and you were sure her clothes didn't fit much to you, you felt your back prickling with burning gaze and you turned.

" Told you he's a rake. Don't be friendly to him." You whispered to Mary who was about to run when Benedict dropped his conversation with lord White, swaggering towards you.

" What if he recognises you ? " She mumbled and your lower lip trembled, but that's not possible, your mask obscured your whole face except your lips and eyes and certainly he hadn't painted you in his mind, afterall he shouldn't be that obsessed.

" My lady." He bowed, his gaze locking in yours as he kissed the hand Mary very reluctantly gave him, he was amused when Mary mumbled a hasty greeting, her manners mimicked.

" You look exquisite, more than the ball itself." He was clearly flattered when Mary blinked hard, looking at you for help.

You rolled your eyes when Benedict too, looked at you with a similar pleading as Mary.

" Forgive me my lord, my lady is tired—"

" We haven't been introduced i remember, Benedict bridgerton." He grinned, he actually freaking grinned as Mary glanced at you with the corner of her eye.

" Lady Mariam Turner." She blurted it quickly, looking at you for approval, " A pleasure." Mary smiled, you nodded.

" Forgive me Mr. Bridgerton." You cleared your throat, Benedict's gaze penetrated through you, he was setting you on fire and you couldn't do anything but to burn.

" My lady is tired, you must excuse us." You felt your throat dry, your whole body withering when Benedict narrowed his eyes, lingering specifically on your lips and treading down slowly.

" Indeed, I must not keep you." He cocked his head to Mary, humming along as you strode past him. You were sure he only whispered the ' not ' out of curtsy.

_

" That was bloody brilliant ! " You giggled while Mary shaked her head, clutching her bossom. Your footsteps echoing in the abandoned corridor, stiffling back your giggles.

" That was bloody scary and I can't breathe." Mary heaved, her breath easing when you patted her back.

" Lady Mariam Turner." You teased, bumping your hip as Mary looked at you, gasping scandalously.

" Shut up. I almost died." Mary pulled her dress that sticked to her skin, trying to fan in some air.

" Do you think he recognised me ? " Your cheeks blazed at the heat of the memory of him, his teasing glances and amused smiles.

" I...I think it was rather amusing that we were messing up, did you see how I trembled? " Mary shaked her hand, as you laughed at the display.

" No, my lady." You said, once your giggles subsided, " You were exquisite."

Mary wacked your arm, her smile unable to hide through the twitch of her lips.

" So, shall we go home ? "

" Would you mind waiting in the carriage ? "

" Don't tell me—" Mary glared, you pouted with puppy eyes.

" Please, you know it's my only way."

" Smoking is bad." Mary declared, " and for men." She added grimly, you nodded along, grabbing her wrist.

" Please, please, please."

" Only if you give back my clothes, i miss them." She touched the soft cotton of her clothes that you were wearing, you perked up eagerly.

_

You took joy at the puffs of smoke that ridiculed the air, the night chill freezing it into clouds of silvery mist.

Mary was dozing off in the carriage until it was time to go home, so early arrival doesn't raise any questions and your mother fast asleep, her trembling lipped questions saved for the next day.

" I thought your lady was tired." You almost dropped your cigar, jumping up the swing as it creaked at sudden outburst.

" Don't drop it, i don't have any with me." His smile was too big and smug for his face, his nonchalance dripped as he took the swing opposite of you. You stared, for some reason cigar still burning in intricate yellow blazing circles, dropping to ashes.

" Forgive me my lord—" you just remembered you were no longer in Mary's clothes.

" That's the only line you grasped so far ? " Benedict leaned on his swing, catching your wrist as he dragged you to sit.

You sat down with a thud, swing jiggling with your weight as you processed his smile.

" I..." You stammered, flushing in heat as he inhaled you in, you were back in your clothes, the one you were supposed to wear. And Mary was right, you couldn't breathe.

" I would say you look beautiful, in everything, in anything..or—" in nothing.

" I should leave." You throat itched.

" Stay." He was soft, almost a whine, a plead.

" Please don't tell anyone." You tried your best persuading smile, it worked on Gissele all the time, your lips pouting and eyes shining with stars.

Benedict's mouth curved in a smile, he clicked his tongue as he attempted to speak but he found he couldn't. A pause, then—

" You love tormenting me, don't you ? " Benedict took the burning cigar from you, locking your eyes with his own as he brought it to his mouth, a sound escaped him as his lips curved around the warmness that belonged to you, he inhaled deeply.

" I don't know what you're talking about." You tore away you eyes from the erotic display of smoking, he hummed in a dry scoff.

" Ofcourse, you wouldn't." He offered the Cigar back, every word coated with sarcasm.

The breeze was so cold that you shivered, moon hanging low in the night sky and every star stared back, Sirius, Rigel, and all of them.

" I never meant to offend you." You took the cigar back, his fingers brushed, a electrifying wave rippling inside you, like the way he held your hand and danced with you in the masquerade ball.

You noticed his flexing but said nothing, heart beating too fast to be sane and alive.

" Miss Rose—" you gasped, how could he know your name, "—have you ever been kissed ? "

" I...Benedict..lord." you clamped your mouth shut, lips suddenly struck by a bolt as they buzzed.

He leaned as you felt your back touching the rope of swing, his face too close... would he kiss you ? Would it be as electrifying as the rest of his touches ? Would you survive it or simply burn like a pheonix ?

" It's okay, we would alot when we get married. " He took away the cigar and dropped it as it was so close to burn your skin, smiling all the while. Was that a proposal ?

" Go home, it's getting cold, Mrs-yet-to-be bridgerton." And he pressed his lips against your forehead, his smile caressing your heart.

Rigel's note 🪩: while I loved this idea especially the hilarious ' Benedict gets what he wants....sex ' but I needed to base it, so it doesn't come as pervy and non con as it might, to make it comfortable enough to write on my part, I have tried to break it into parts, this part is generally meet up and getting obsession with y/n ( no use in fic ) and other will be courting and marriage bliss. Gif not mine.

Obsessed with you 11

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab! reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor makes a move, oh dear ! An offer by the gentleman.

Warning: no description of reader, reader's last name is Rose for convenience ( used only twice ) internal conflict, mutual pinning but it's secret on reader's part, Benedict being an absolute tease, touchy Benedict, fluff and humour, reader's mother has some issues, resentment feelings for love, alcoholism ( blink and you miss it ) please read it !! ( No Polin, kathony in this chapter)

Dearest gentle readers,

This author believes desire to be a spectrum, and while longing, passion, lust and love are often known, i would ask, ' have you ever seen obsession ? ' it is rather very tempting.

It is not I, but the moon that basked in the sky last night who whispered, and i simply convey. There's been an offer made by the gentleman. Tempting, is it not ?

The next morning...

" How was your evening ? "

You coughed, grasping your throat as Mrs. Turner immediately patted your back, helping you with water.

Your mother's gaze was usually unfocused and clouded but even so, it was terrifying enough when she narrowed them at you.

" Fine." You said, feeling your chest burn, " It was very pleasant."

" That's amazing dearest." She turned back to her plate, untouched as it was, she hardly ate sometimes, you looked away, blinking.

" Ma'am, shall we expect any caller ? " Mrs. Turner asked your mother, but the question was solely directed to you.

" Indeed." Mama drank, her third glass of wine," she's very good girl." She added, raising her empty glass, her eyes stinging with moisteness.

" She is." Mrs. Turner smiled, you dropped your gaze back to your breakfast, staring hard. Oh god, what have you done ?

While waiting for a caller...

If Mrs. Turner noticed your panic, she said nothing and darkest part of you wondered if she was enjoying it actually.

" Your mother will be so disappointed if you have no caller today." Mary sighed, you winced internally, feeling sudden urge to just run and run until everything inside you crumbled and withered away.

" C'mon ! " Mary moaned, nudging you on your arm, "you're scaring me like that, say something."

" I don't know." You turned to her, pulling a straight face " suggest something lady Mariam." Mary groaned, you giggled, remembering how your sister used to, in every pain, in every nightmare.

Gissele joked all the times, her sharp wits and biting humour was something you always looked up at, you always wanted to be her because nothing touched her, she never cried, never baffled, her laughter still echoed sometimes in your head. But when night came and so did fear and darkness, on one such you tip tooed to her room, frozen at the soft sobs that were muffled by the pillow.

The jokes weren't funny anymore.

" Oh i wish—" whatever Mary wished was drowned by Mrs. Turner who entered the room with a undignified frown directed to you both , her eyes sharpening with unspoken disdain. Mary sat up straighter, abandoning her usual hunching and slouching.

" You have a caller miss." Mrs. Turner annouced, " Mr. Benedict bridgerton." She said, her mouth bitter with loathing.

You half registered her resentment before a shrilly strangled noise escaped your throat, mind swirling with last night memories that you were still not accepting to be true, you told Mary everything except the offer from the gentleman, or perhaps it wasn't a offer at all. A demand.

" Oh no." Mary gasped, you weren't sure if you had nodded or said anything but Mrs. Turner left, her mouth clasped close, brow knitted.

" What should I do ? " You bited your lip, panic settling, you remembered too well how bolting Benedict made you feel, the feel of his lips pressed against your skin. It was too endearing, a feeling that was too close to flying, soaring high but also to falling, down and down till there's nothing holding you but gravity, Benedict made you skip your heartbeats then become it's very muse.

" Be yourself. Didn't you say that to me ? "

Mary deadpanned, sensing your dread, she tried again,

" We can still run away, the window's open—" Mary stood upright, turning towards the fireplace when Benedict came. He was holding flowers, almost all kinds, his eyes twinkled as he raked his gaze upon you, smiling.

" Good morning, miss Rose." He bowed, at first to you, handling your flowers and you were gone the moment his fingers brushed against you, but it was then you realised there were two bouquets.

" Lady Mariam Turner." Benedict's smile grew wicked, you were sure to heard Mary mumbling something very blasphemous before she turned around, her face red.

" A very good morning, Mr. Bridgerton." She bowed, her eyes shut. You were paralyzed, feeling your skin still buzzing.

" C'mon, don't stand too much ladies, you might get tired." He purred, clapping his hand as he sat down next to you the couch, Mary and you shared a look before you sat back, she followed on the other one.

" Why did you come ? " You said, feeling your throat getting rigid, considering how Mary sighed, it was the worst possible thing to say to your caller, it didn't matter.

" Well, I was going to meet you mother and ask for your hand in marriage today but since she's sick and confined to her chambers, I shall do it tomorrow." You gaped at him, no matter how much you convinced yourself that it was just a dream, in no hell it could be now, his sincere eyes were most dazzling and despite the smirk that lit up his whole face, there was no ounce of humour.

" That's.." you shaked your head, don't think about his mouth, stop, stop, stop—

" Very kind." Mary was equally baffled, but you knew what a tease she would be to you later, if only you survived now.

" Thankyou lady Turner." Benedict smiled to her, bowing again, his teeths showing and Mary's ear blazed and she looked away, chortling under her breath.

" I am sorry about yesterday." You weren't sure how you could offended him but it didn't matter, you would be doomed if anyone knew of the lunacy you pulled last night.

Benedict deepened his gaze but said nothing, he slowly descended to your collarbone and heat crept up your spine. You shifted back, baffled at the tightening in your guts.

" I shall leave you to talking." Mary stood up, motioning towards the shelves and shelves of books.

" You don't read." You hissed at her, she sticked out her tongue tip and was gone, sparing few glances in between.

" I like her." Benedict said, you noticed that he was much closer. It surely wasn't a trick of your mind.

" Why are you doing this ? " You asked him, because you would be damned if it were another of his flirtings, another way to entertain himself. A frown crossed his jolly face and it didn't look like it belonged there.

" Forgive me if I had not made that clear." He said, his eyes softened when he looked at you, " I want to marry you." Oh.

No, no, you told yourself, didn't what Mrs. Turner said, he liked them of class, he has no honour when it comes to corrupt young ladies—

" You don't even know me." You said, voice small and frail.

" As much as I know you, you are kind, gentle and affectionate. Your beauty however is yet another muse of mine, i tried so hard, to trap you in canvas and colours but I couldn't do any justice, for you were simply ethereal in your own orbit. " He said, " but I would like to know all of you, every layer, every facade...you are the most extraordinary person i have ever met."

You wouldn't believe him, no matter how bright his eyes shine and how true every word feels, no, you wouldn't make the mistake Gissele made. Words, stupid words.

" We danced, only one time."

" It was enough." He reached out and kept his hand over yours, it was then your realised how badly your hands were trembling.

You didn't pull away, you knew how you would break down if you had to. You held onto him, not that you trusted him, no.

" Listen love, " love, He said it so softly, you were so doomed, " The moment our eyes locked I knew you had bewitched me, everything inside me longed for you...and..I knew it's silly but I thought i would die if I didn't see you again and when I did, I knew there was no life worth living it it's not with you."

" Those are just words." You looked away, instead focusing your eyes on Mary on the other end of the room, pretending to read a book, it was upside down.

" Yes, they are." He agreed, " so that's why I am here to make them actions, I fancy you so much that it sometimes scares—"

" Then don't, love shouldn't be scary." You remembered all those letters in Gissele's room, talking about love this, love that, ending with love you's, but what then ?

Benedict chuckled, like you weren't bashing him. he squeezed your hand gently. His fingers sliding through the dips of your knuckles, like moulded for each other. Stop.

" Love's not scary, it can be when you think about losing them, I was last night when I thought you wouldn't show up. That I would never see you again...no, I was terrified."

" You knew." You turned to him, he was practically hopping as he caught your gaze, every desire crawling out to you, screaming your name.

" I did." He confirmed, you raised your brow in question, " I would recognise you anywhere." He said simply and just like that you believed him.

You felt your face warming, heat shooting up in flames, Benedict seemed amused as his other hand, the one not making stars on your wrist came to caress your cheek. His lips parted when he felt your warmness, then he smiled, a knowing one.

" What if I nothing that you have assumed me to be ? " You weren't sure why you asked him that, perhaps it was the last letter you burnt before your elder sister could read it.

...Gis, this is not what we agreed on, this is not you, not the Gissele i knew. Please stop claiming it to be mine, we didn't even go that further, stop spreading these sour rumours that could filth my name...

" I adore all of you, every bit and every mole, i don't think there's any choice for me, it's just... there's no proof but you just know...I knew it, it's you, miss Rose. It was always going to be you."

You nodded, not sure if you could speak anything, feeling your heart thud louder and louder with each word that he spoke, every curve of his mouth and you could slowly feel time stoping.

That was the moment Mrs. Turner took to came, you yanked your hand back but Benedict wasn't much interested and his whine was quite visible.

" Mr. Bridgerton, Would you like lemon cakes, our cook is quite famous for it ? " Benedict looked at the refreshments that was left untouched except the biscuit that Mary nicked while on her way to 'reading' books upside down.

" As much I am very fond of it, i would have to say no. Me and miss Rose fancied a walk around the gardens."

Mrs. Turner looked accusingly at you and you shrugged, Benedict ignored all of that.

" Pleasant weather, is it not ? "

Mrs. Turner perched her lips, smiling that was mere curtsy. Oh god, what are you Benedict bridgerton ? Why are you so obsessed with me ?

By the secret gardens, with Mr. Bridgerton...

" Lady Mariam, alright ? " Benedict turned back to Mary who walked few steps behind you and him.

" Yes my Mr. Bridgerton." She said, slowing even more, she wasn't even trying to be good chaperone. Benedict praised her for it.

" That's my hand." You grasped your skirt before Benedict could hold it, for god sake, people were watching.

" Oops." Benedict apologised, not being sorry at all, his smile widening. You kept your eyes ahead.

" So would you say yes when I will propose ? " Benedict asked this, indirectly for the third time since the walk, he was rather good with words, he was also good at painting as much as you had heard and— stop, stop, stop.

" Haven't you already proposed ? " You stopped, he did too, cocking his head sideways.

" Yes indeed I have and I meant it." He admitted, " I was talking about the one where I am on my knees."

You weren't going to think about that, absolutely not, in no scandalous way. His thighs would look very erotic. Shit.

"No."

" You're lying." He scoffed. Yes you were, not that securing a proposal this season was your absolute ultimatum. Your mother wasn't cruel, she never was, but she was very paranoid and it was more crueler sometimes.

But marrying Benedict wouldn't be your escape or security, because you knew you would love him, whatever that was and if you could hate yourself for it then so it be.

The fate and destiny Benedict said, the way he just knew and who were you lying to ?

Didn't you touched him and got so electrified that you knew nothing would ever be same again, say it, go on. Lie, lie again but swear it if you didn't lock eyes with him and wished to just get lost and never be found. Wasn't it the night of the masquerade ball when you were truly alive for the first time in so long, giggling and free, dancing with your hands tied. Go on, lie.

" You wish." Benedict laughed on that, rich and beautiful and enough to make you hide your face as it went crimson.

" Lady—" he bagan to turn, you grabbed his elbow, jerking him to you, very unladylike.

" Stop teasing her." You leaned towards him and while you were in no position to talk about flustering but damn, Benedict was knocked out of his breath. You smiled, it was truly inevitable not to.

" I like to."

" Mean."

" That's very unladylike to insult your husband to be." Benedict said, recovering, all his smugness on full display. You let go of his arm, bending to take a pebble.

" Husband ? " You tossed a pebble off the lake, hoping to blame the rosiness that bloomed your cheeks on the sun.

" Yes wifey ? " Benedict ducked his head, like a puppy with stars in his eyes. He was so beautiful, why did he have to be like this ?

" Don't call me that." Please, very much call me that, it makes me blush, please, please.

" Then what should I call you ? " Benedict asked, before you could answer him, his arm grasped your waist, pulling you to him in a sudden moment. Wish you could say you immediately pulled away but that would be a lie. You melted in his embrace, eyes shut, a soft rhythmic music, it was his heart beats, you listened.

" Pebble." Benedict whispered down in your ear, you nodded once, pulling away hesitantly. He wasn't sure but let go of your elbow at last, his cheeks pink with blood.

" Should I call you Mrs.Bridgerton ? "

" Aren't there going to be three Mrs. Bridgertons ? "

Benedict bumped your nose on that, laughing while you frowned. He ought to stop touching you before you do something awfully stupid.

.... you're not stupid Gissele...

" Well ofcourse, yes. I see you're stalking me." Benedict winked, you eye rolled, something inside you shivering, a knot in your stomach loosening.

" Everyone knows that."

" Hmmph." Benedict hummed, " but you ought to know more wifey."

" Ofcourse Husband." You tried and was rewarded with Benedict missing a step, he smiled, a lopsided grin, recovering soon he turned to you.

" I wished to make you a wedding gift."

You knew he didn't even made a formal proposal to your mother but even so every word felt truer than life, for once you let go of what would happen, if he would break your heart then so be it, if you die bleeding then let it be that way, but you want to be alive, for once, just be alive.

" That's very kind of you."

Benedict tucked a strand of hair behind your hair, smiling his brightest smile.

You looked back at Mary who grinned back with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

" Obsessed." She mouthed, you shaked your head, smiling to yourself, very well.

Rigel's note 🪩 : I hope it was good, I am bit struck in life :( also can anyone make a banner, please ? I mean i would do it myself but I am so so slumped up right now and lack skills too <3 also thank-you for leaving cute cute asks and replies and messages!!! I am so thankful to write for wonderful dearest readers like you, love you <3

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Alone Together // Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Some portraits are meant for private eyes.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.0k

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

Quick Links : Masterlist ; Request Guidelines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s quite awful, don’t you think?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Inspiration?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a beat later, he replied:

"On the chaise, Mrs. Bridgerton."

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

"Without these."

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

"Are you ready?"

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

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

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

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

Then, he began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you."

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

"I love you too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your wife has all but one objection.”

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

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

“Mhm, I-I-“

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

“Ben—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t want that now.”

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

“What—“

“I want you to fuck me.” Oh.

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

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

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

“You are so marvelous like this.”

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

“You’re in charge now, my love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told you it–"

"It's gorgeous, Ben."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only one matters."

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

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

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

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

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

"Anything for you, my dear wife."