love in withdrawal
in which you avoid your desperately confused and in love husband
PAIRINGS: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x wife!reader
WARNINGS: flirty af, yearning af, pregnancy, meddling bridgerton siblings (specifically b,e, g, and h), angst, miscommunication, fluff sprinkled in, they love each other so much it makes me nauseous, fluffy ending
WORD COUNT: 4.1k
🎶 : would that i - hozier
AN: 🩵♥️💗 - god this one was so fun to write- it hurt me, but it was fun. please please please enjoy - and get hype for season four!!
Your laughter radiated off the pale blue walls as your husband, the lovesick fool that he was (his words, not yours) attacked you mercilessly with his kisses. His affection often kept you from starting your day, and this morning was no exception. “Anthony-”
“Yes?”
“We must-” Your breath hitched when his horribly handsome eyes met yours. “We must go downstairs. Your family-”
“Our family.” His lips caressed your skin as he whispered. “You are my wife. They are just as much your family as mine.”
“Fine.” You shook your head endearingly. “Our family-” He hummed. “Will be hungry. We should break fast.”
“They can wait and allow me a moment to admire the stunning woman before me.”
“Anthony-” You giggled. “You must contain yourself, or we shall never leave this bed.”
He smirked, looking up from your clavicle, a horribly mischievous look in his eye. “Would that be so terrible?”
You gasped, shoving him away and making your escape. Anthony couldn’t help but admire you as you pulled the duvet off the bed and wrapped yourself with it. Propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes filled with tenderness at the sight. He couldn’t help but adore how you made such a plain blanket look beautiful, an outfit made for a queen.
Donning your dressing gown and slippers behind your folding screen, you waltzed out from behind it, curtsying extravagantly to the man who still lay on your shared bed. “I shall see you downstairs, my lord.”
“Yes, yes.” He groaned, falling against the mattress, a lingering smile still etched on his lips.
Your dressing room laid in your chambers, on the other side of the estate that you were supposed to be residing in. Your mother, the stickler for tradition that she was, was positively shocked when you told her you had no intention of staying in any room that your husband did not also reside in.
A love match was the best way to describe you and Anthony, because that is what it was. You had grown up around each other, had always known each other, and one day, when your eyes caught from across the ball room, you realized that perhaps you wanted to know him.
The rest of your sordid love affair was history.
You smiled kindly at the footman who opened your door, skirting past him to sit down in front of your vanity. “Good morning, Emma.”
“Good morning, my lady.” Your lady’s maid smiled. “What shall I do today?”
“Something simple ple-” Your stomach lurched, and Emma frowned. “I-”
“My lady? Is something amiss?”
“I do not-” The lurch soon grew to a low grumble, your hands growing sweaty as realization fell over you. “I- I need to-” Emma’s hands hooked under your arms, helping you out of your chair and ushering you to the chamber pot as you prepared for the inevitable. Bile rose into your throat, and your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for it to cease.
“It is alright, my lady.” Emma held your hair back, rubbing a comforting hand on your back.
You sat back, breathing hard. “I- I do not know what came over me.”
“You must have eaten something that disagreed with you.”
“Perhaps.” Your heart skipped, hand falling down to your stomach. “But I have not eaten today.”
“Then perhaps you have-”
“Emma.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I have not had my course in some time.”
“Oh, my lady.” Emma grinned. “That would be wonderful, truly wonderful.”
“Yes.” You nodded, suddenly feeling nauseous all over again at the mere thought. “Quite wonderful.”
You took a deep breath, hands clenching your gown in an effort to calm yourself before you rounded the corner, walking into the dining room. Your husband, seated at the head of the table, ceased talking to his brother, grinning brightly. “How good of you to join us, darling.”
You smiled lightly, sitting to his right, across from Benedict. “It takes effort to look like this, my dear husband.”
“You look just as beautiful as you did when you woke, I assure you.” Anthony’s words had a horrible effect on you. His warm smile and his handsome eyes combined with his compliments were enough to reduce you to mush.
“If you say so.” The food before you, which normally made your mouth salivate, now made your stomach twist with distaste. You hand clenched once more. Anthony placed a cup of tea before you, no doubt made just the way you liked it.
“You look as if you’re going to be sick.” Your husband murmured, reaching out to hold your clenched fist.
Benedict, who had the hearing of an owl, scoffed. “One second, you compliment her, the next you insult her. You are quite the juxtaposition, brother.”
Hyacinth laughed, leaning forward in her seat. “I must confess, brother, I am quite confused. You say that you are a gentleman, and then you proceed to call your wife ghastly.” She frowned. “It is quite rude.”
Anthony huffed. “I never said-”
“I must agree with Hyacinth, however much it pains me to do so.” Gregory smirked. “That is a rather ungentlemanly thing to-”
“Shut it, all of you.” The viscount hissed. “My love?”
His touch brought you back to life, the nausea subsiding as he rubbed your now relaxed hand. “I am fine.”
“Are you quite sure-”
“Anthony.” You smiled. “Believe me when I say that it is nothing.”
“They’re despicable.” Anthony shook his head at his siblings. “Little hellions, the lot of them.”
You simply nodded, taking a small sip of your tea.
“Let us be glad then, that it is just us.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly. The action was nice, the statement however, caused anxiety to roll over you in waves, your mind going to dangerous places. Anthony had not wanted children right away, of course he hadn’t. Now here you were, most likely with child, about to ruin his peace.
It was then that you decided you would not tell your husband the news just yet. He already had so much to tend to, why add another issue to the docket?
The rest of the week had been notably uneventful, leaving you to spend your time worrying about Anthony’s reaction. Emma, in her wisdom, had called a doctor for you, reassuring you that he was very discreet.
And so there you waited, grateful that Anthony had been out on business. He would lose his head if he saw a doctor in his home, his mind instantly going to horrible places. If he were to learn that the doctor was there to see his wife, who knew what he would do?
It was not worth telling him on the small chance that you were in fact with child. Then, not only would you worry him, you would also disappoint him in one fell swoop. “My lady-” Emma’s voice rang out from the hall. “He is here. Shall I send him in?”
“Yes, please.” You straightened your posture, trying to calm your thoughts while you braced yourself for news. Whether that would be good or bad news was yet to be determined.
“It is wonderful news, my lady.” The doctor smiled.
You gulped, your voice weak as you spoke. “Wonderful?”
“Yes, my lady.” He stood, dusting off his coat. “You are with child.”
“Ah.” You nodded slowly, taking it all in. “How wonderful.”
Emma stepped forward, walking the doctor toward the door. “My lady thanks you for your assistance, sir.”
“Of course, anything for the Bridgertons.”
God help you. It seemed as if time itself stood still as you sat there, pondering your future. You were with child, Anthony’s child.
“My love!”
Your eyes widened, standing quickly. “Anthony.”
“Is something amiss?” He tilted his head, and you tried your best to play ignorant.
“Not at all.”
“Ah.” Anthony opted not to tell you he had seen the doctor leave the house just as he had arrived. “How was your day?”
“Wonderful.” The word had lost its meaning to you now, its repetition dulling its desired effect. “It was wonderful.”
You hadn’t meant to avoid him. Initially, that is.
Really, it had come naturally, given your far-off state. You’d accidentally sat just far enough away from him that he could not touch you, hold you, or slip his arm through yours. Then, you’d realize that if you kept it up, he would not find out about the child, and you would have more time to plan the announcement.
Anthony had noticed your cold shoulder almost immediately. Of course he had, there was nary a moment the two of you were not attached in some manner. When you attended balls, he was either holding your arm or the fabric of your dress. When you were with the family, playing games or simply enjoying each other’s company, he was either whispering sweet nothings in your ear or placing his arm around your waist.
Today, however, you sat at such a distance that if he had tried his normal behavior, it would have looked odd and highly awkward.
So of course he had noticed.
The family, however, was oblivious to the separation of the couple.
He’d tried to reach out, smiling ever so sweetly. Your eyes had simply flitted over, so quickly dismissed he’d hardly even realized.
Then you’d gone to dinner, and you’d sat beside him, but you had not reached out for him, you had not laughed at any of his quips, and you had not looked at him, truly looked at him, the way that made his heart sore with adoration.
He tried to reason with himself that perhaps you were in a sour mood, that you felt unwell.
Then the family decided to play a game, and you paired with his mother. That was the final straw. Not once in the entirety of your courtship, engagement, or marriage had you and his mother paired together for a game. Heavens, you’d even partnered with Eloise and Benedict on occasion, but never the dowager Viscountess.
And so, as he miserably watched you from afar, he decided he had to ask what it was he had done to make you pull away in such a manner.
You’d gotten ready for bed in silence, neither of you willing to break the peace, if you could call it that. Anthony sat against the headstand, watching you closely as if that would somehow show him the answer, and you sat in front of your vanity, brushing your hair to distract from the inevitable.
“May I ask what has happened?”
Your heart skipped, setting the brush down gently. The brush, you remembered, had been a gift from Anthony. One of many during your courtship. “What are you on about?”
“You know what I mean.”
You scoffed, pushing out of your chair to face him. “Well, it would seem that I haven’t the faintest-”
“You have been distant. Do not try to deny it.” He crossed his arms, and while his face might have been stern, his eyes were anything but. They were desperate for answers, desperate to put an end to this so you could both return to how it had been, how it should be. “Why?” His voice broke.
“Anthony-”
“What have I done, truly?” He stood, walking toward you slowly as if you were a wild animal, skittish and afraid of being backed into a corner. In a way, you were. “Tell me, my love, and I swear to you, I will fix it.”
“My lord-”
He felt as if he was floating, outside of his body, unable to avoid the disaster before it erupted. Unable to understand you for the first time. “Please, do not call me that.” He begged, hands now reaching out for yours. You had never in the entirety of your time together, called him that without a teasing smile on your lips.
You stepped back, eyes to the ground. “I wish to-” A small sliver of hope grew in his chest. “I believe that I would like to sleep in my chambers tonight.”
“You believe?”
“Yes.”
“But these are your chambers.”
You shook your head. “My chambers, my lord. On the east wing.”
He had to have been in a nightmare, fully pinching himself as if that would bring him out of it. It did not, making him all the more horrified. “I-” He realized, as he stared at you with heartbreak etched on his face, that there would be no solving this tonight, no understanding it while you were in this state. While he was in this state. “If that is what you wish.”
You hadn’t even addressed him, stalking toward the door and slamming it behind you.
It was a perfect day, the sky void of clouds as far as the eye could see, the slight breeze causing the flowers to rustle lightly. Their perfume danced through the air, and you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh, leaning your head back to bask in the sun. “I could sit and lounge here for hours.”
“Yes.” Violet smiled, humming as she embroidered yet another handkerchief for you. “The gardens have always offered me comfort. I am glad to see you have followed suit.”
“Did you spend much time out here whilst the children were little?”
“Oh yes.” The Dowager Viscountess smiled warmly. “Edmund and I spent much time out here with the eldest, in particular. Anthony and Benedict always managed to dirty their clothes in minutes.”
“He never told me.” You frowned.
“Yes well,” Violet’s voice softened. “He has always had a hard time reliving the past.”
“Speaking of my dear repressed brother-” Eloise looked up from her novel. “Where is he?”
You shrugged, ignoring the jolt of melancholy that shot through your heart. “I do not know.”
“You do not know?” The younger girl shut her book, sitting forward in her seat. “Do you mean to tell me you have no idea of his daily schedule?” You nodded slowly. “Are you two not attached at the hip?”
“Eloise-” Violet let out a warning murmur. “She cannot keep track of your brother’s whereabouts at all times.”
The horrible thing you realized as the two continued to quarrel, was that Eloise was right. Since your argument only four days ago, you and Anthony had yet to have a conversation beyond simple greetings. It brought about a whole other wave of sadness, thinking of how your fear to disappoint him had driven him away, how you had driven him away. Your heart pounded, eyes watering as you clenched your skirts tightly, hoping they would bring you out of your mind.
Eloise groaned, her face animated as she argued. “I am simply asking-”
You stood up quickly, your head light from the sudden movement. “I think I shall go inside.”
“Are you quite well-” Eloise’s voice softened, reaching out as if to steady you.
“I’m fine.” You spat out. “I shall see you both at dinner.”
She watched you walk away with a frown, waiting until you’d turned the corner to question her mother. “Was it something I said?”
“What truly troubles you?”
You jumped, whipping around to face your mother in law. “Violet, forgive me, I hadn’t noticed you.”
“Do not apologize.” She sat beside you, your swings swaying in tandem. “Something is troubling you, and I assume it did not begin with Eloise’s comment.”
“I-”
“You know you can tell me anything.”
“Violet, I-” Your hand instinctively fell to your stomach, rubbing it gently. “I am with child.”
“That is wonderful-”
“Anthony does not want it.” You looked up, Violet’s face now pale. “I know he does not-”
“And how do you know that, my darling?”
“He said so. At breakfast just the other day, he said he was glad that it was just the two of us. And I-” You swallowed. “I agree, but now that I am-” A tear fell down your cheek. “I’m scared that he will not be pleased, and so I have been-” You sobbed into your hands, hiccuping. “I have been pushing him away.”
“Oh my dear girl.” Violet caressed your back gently. “You must tell him.”
“I know.” You nodded, sitting up. “I know I must, but I am horrified by it. Of the thought of telling him the truth. He will- he will be so terribly angry.”
“He will not be angry.” Her voice was still soft, but firm, confident in her son and the way she had raised him. “He loves you, he could never truly be upset with you.”
“But he said-”
“He said that he liked it was just the two of you, I know.” She smiled, pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “My darling girl, he will be elated when he learns of this precious news.” You nodded, knowing that what Violet said was the truth. “I understand the hesitancy, and you must know that I will support you, whatever you decide to do.”
“Thank you-”
“But, you must also know that my son loves you terribly.” She squeezed your hands gently. “And he will be so very excited to learn of the news.”
“My love.” Anthony’s voice, wavering from fear of your avoidance, caused chills to run down your spine. Not just your spine, you lamented, but your arms, your very soul. “You look stunning.”
You smiled kindly, the wall you had so meticulously built crumbling to ash the longer you went about not confessing. “Thank you, Anthony.”
“Anthony, eh?” He smiled, stepping closer so his siblings would not barge their way into your conversation. “I have missed your voice.”
Your smile grew, reaching out to grab his hand. “I have missed-”
“Bridgerton!” Basset’s voice echoed through the entryway. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
Anthony almost looked dejected as he turned to his friend, bowing ever so slightly. “Basset. It’s been too long.”
You curtsied, hugging your sister in law tightly. “Daphne, you look well.”
“I am well.” Daphne’s smile illuminated the whole of Grosvenor Square as her hand drifted down to her stomach. “Very well, indeed.”
Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but wish and celebrate along with her. “Are you quite sure?”
“Very.” The Duchess leaned into her husband’s side. “I do hope it is a boy.”
“As long as the babe is healthy, I do mind what it is.” Basset looked down at Daphne like she was the center of his universe, like there was no one else. “You are glowing, my darling.”
Anthony’s hand to reach out and hold your hand in his. “Congratulations, sister.” Your eyes drifted over, taking in his expression, happy, but almost empty. Like something was missing, and you couldn’t help but think that perhaps he would benefit from learning the news of his own wife being pregnant with his first child.
You slipped your arm through his, leading the way to the dining room. “Anthony.”
“Yes, my darling?”
You swallowed, willing yourself to be brave. “There is something that I wish to-”
“Sister!” The dining room burst into utter chaos, all the siblings jumping out of their seats to hug Daphne and the Duke.
“Perhaps-” You frowned. “Perhaps another time then.”
Anthony frowned along with you, an uneasy sort of knot twisting tight in his stomach. “Another time.”
The carriage ride was smooth, the car itself silent as you and your husband waited to arrive at the Hastings Ball. Daphne and Simon, while attending dinner just three nights ago, announced that they were hosting a ball to not only declare the imminent arrival of their third child but also to celebrate a last hurrah before they retreated to the country for some respite. Very last minute, but they knew their estate would still be filled to the brim with the eager-minded mamas and their ever more eager-minded daughters.
You had decided that tonight would be the night you confessed the truth to Anthony, the night you would finally conquer your fear of him being less than enthused. If he reacted the way you had had nightmares about, at least you would have a good support system in his family.
But, you told yourself as you admired his handsome face, you knew that would not be the case. “Anthony?”
“Yes?” His voice was tight, strained.
“I must tell you something rather delicate-”
“Stop.” He stared at the ground. “Please don’t.”
Your heart stopped. “Sorry?”
“I know.”
You raised a tentative brow. “You do.”
“I had a suspicion.”
“Ah.” You nodded slowly. “What gave it away?”
“Well,” He dared to look up from the floor of the carriage car, eyes full of fear, of heartbreak. You were entirely confused as you watched his hands tremble. “It began when you confined yourself to the opposite side of the estate.”
“Yes.” You nodded slowly. “I am sorry about that-”
“May I ask you one thing?”
“Anything.” You muttered much too fast. “Anything at all, you know that.”
“How long?” His voice broke as he stared into your very being. “How long have you been in love with another man?”
“What?” Your voice grew an octave higher. “I’m sorry?”
“I swear to you-” You had never seen the man you loved become such a shell of himself. “I will not be angry. I am difficult to deal with, I know. If you-” His eyes began to water as he fell to his knees in front of you, as if he were begging for you to stay. “If you have fallen out of love with me, it is alright-”
“Stop talking this instant.” You gasped. “Anthony Bridgerton, I am not-”
“I still love you.” He cried out, on the verge of tears. “I love you desperately, you are all I breathe for, all I live for. I fear I cannot let you go, cannot let you leave. I will-” Your breath stopped as he straightened his posture, his lips just below yours. “I will fight for you to stay with all I have. And soon-”
“Anthony, I am with child.” You slapped a hand over your mouth, shocked at the sudden nature in which you’d confessed the happy news. “I am with your child.” He was horribly still, eyes wide. You took your hand away from your mouth, caressing his cheek gently. “Are you quite alright?”
In an instant, he leaped forward, pinning you against the wall of the carriage. You gasped, moaning into his kiss, your body melting in his touch. “Anthony-”
“How long?” He’d been peppering your entire face with kisses when he’d asked. “How long have you known?”
“Only two weeks.” You replied in between his attacks of passionate, breath stealing, kisses. “But I am almost three months along.”
“Three months?” He grinned. “This is wonderful, simply wonderful.”
“You are pleased, then?” You whispered. “I so hoped you would be-”
“How could I not?” He pulled away, and you found yourself almost following after him. He was grinning, eyes now bright. “The love of my life is pregnant with our first child. I am overjoyed, truly.”
“I am glad.” His hands loosened their grip on your wrists. “I am so sorry, Anthony.”
“Is this the reason, then?” He almost laughed. “Is this why you have been avoiding me as of late?”
You felt so foolish, twiddling your thumbs to distract from the shame. “It is.”
“My darling girl-” He held your hands tightly in his, leaning his forehead against yours. “Please do not ever think that I would be disappointed by this news. I can’t bear to think that you thought I would be displeased.”
“Anthony-” You couldn’t help but sob. “I have been so inconceivably horrible to you.”
“No-” He shook his head. “Do not say that-”
“I have.” You continued on, fighting the urge to fall into his hold. “Anthony, you must know that I was so scared. So terribly scared.”
“Do you know-” He kissed your lips so gently you’d hardly felt it. “Do you truly know how maddening it has been not to touch you?” Another soft kiss, this time, on the corner of your mouth. “To kiss you, to hold you, and admire you for hours and hours on end?”
“Anthony-”
“My beautiful, beautiful girl-” His hands drifted up, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you desperately, and I cannot wait for this child.”
“I love you too.” You sobbed. “It hurt me to be away from you.”
“It hurt me much more, my darling.” He laughed. “I do not think my heart could take it, being apart from you.”
“I promise I will never do this again.” You whispered, leaning forward so your lips grazed against his as you spoke. “I shall never ever-”
“You will not be able to.” He whispered back. “Because I will not let you go.”
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Ruin the Friendship
Fandom: Bridgerton
Summary: As the spinster chaperone of your youngest sister, you find yourself in desperate need of some fresh air. It does not take long for your best friend, Benedict Bridgerton, to find you.
Length: 2.4k
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Content Warnings: friends to lovers, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, orgasm, vaginal sex.
a/n: I am back girlies
Bridgerton master list
The first draw of fresh air spreads deep into your lungs, the night air cool and a little damp. Dewed grass tickles to tops of your feet up under your gown, you look up to the faint sparkling stars in the sky and thank them for your finding this old spot of respite. Now, seven and twenty, you were finally free; or so you had thought, though you accompanied your youngest sister as her chaperone. She had begged and begged you not to leave her fate solely up to your mother, so here you were, on a swing in the Bridgerton house garden. The music and merriment of Lady Bridgerton’s masquerade ball echoed across the field, surely the cold and solitude were far more endurable than the deafening pressures of society. Turning away from the house, giving yourself slight momentum, you giggled lightly – it had been many, many years since you had found yourself on children’s swings.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” A familiar voice rang out behind you. You need not turn to know who.
“Mr. Bridgerton, you are going to cause your poor mother a heart attack one of these days” you said lightly. Benedict gave a laugh and sat beside you on the opposing swing.
“How did you know I was here to hide from my mother?” Benedict asked, a hint of sarcasm trailing his words.
“Well Ben, you are always hiding from your mother. You have been since you could walk.”
“It is true,” Benedict sighed, lighting a cigarette and drawing in deeply, “Though this year I do think she means to corner me with the bishop and hold my hand to some boring debutantes’ until he says, ‘I now pronounce you…’”. His voice was missing that airy quality it had always had. Something about him seemed more somber than normal, perhaps the pressure was affecting him the same way it had you.
His arm outstretched to pass over the cigarette, and you took it willingly, even if your mother cursed you in the carriage home for having done something so unladylike. Benedict had been your closest friend for your whole life; your mothers’ having grown up together and been lifelong friends themselves. He was your greatest secret keeper and confidant and you, his.
“Do you think my mother will ever understand that there is more to life than high society and getting married?” He asked as you drew in, choking on the smoke at his ridiculous question. You threw him a well-meaning glower. “No, right. You are right, of course she will not. None of them ever will. It sometimes feels like no one will ever be able to understand me” He blinked solemnly down to the grass.
You drew again and passed the cigarette back to Benedict, with a gentle graze of your finger against his cool hand. With glassy eyes, head turned, he took the cigarette and gave the softest, knowing smile. “Well, maybe not no one” He corrected, that same glazed, serene look fell over you. It made you shiver when he looked at you like that. The moment held for longer than it ever had before, and without a moment of thought, you bound forward and planted a resounding and forceful kiss onto your best friends’ lips. What shocked and surprised you was not only did Benedict not retreat, but he also returned your kiss and turned it into something much deeper and appreciative. You sensed something beneath the surface that needed this, in yourself but also in Ben. His hands moved to the ropes either side of your body, pulling the swing to stability as his lips crashed over yours. Your heart thumped so hard in your ears you thought the music may have turned it up a notch. In the dizzying haze, Benedict nipped and kissed gently at your lower lip, slowly parting just enough to open your eyes and see him staring back at you.
Warm breath in the cool air spread between you in slight breathlessness and Benedict’s eyes turned to sureness as he reached for your hand and dared you to go with him. There was not a second you had ever given a thought when it came to Benedict and tonight was no different than the last twenty years had been. You placed your gloved hand fervently in his and braced as he pulled you up off the swing and ran excitedly across the field of green, hidden in shadows and headed toward the line of carriages in front of Bridgerton house.
The ride in the carriage felt like mere moments, Benedict’s mouth never left your skin. You had thought about moments like this ever since you were a young lady, holding this crush on your best friend so close to your chest, so that no one would ever know.
After helping you out of the carriage and showing you inside, Benedict scrambled ahead of you walking up the stairs to his room. There was good cause for his mother to be after him the way she had been. You knew he had his own lodgings, at this age, but had never been to visit. After all, he was a bachelor and a well-rumored rake about the ton. Even as a spinster, it would have impacted your younger sisters’ fates in society had you ever been seen here. Benedict knocked things from your way, threw clothes across the room and blankets over fallen wine glasses and signs of debauchery past. You tried to hide your shock with a small smile, but it potentially looked more nervous than not.
“Do you not entertain the idea of staff?” You whispered to Benedict smarmily.
“I do have staff… Sometimes… They aren’t here right now” Benedict laughed, “Why are you whispering?”.
It did not even occur to you that you were, but it did feel like sneaking around, which was not a bad feeling at all. The two of you had always been naughty children, sneaking off and getting into trouble your mamas would have to quell and punish you for. This felt like days long gone.
“I am whispering because I was not sure if we were alone” You uttered anxiously, reaching Benedict’s bedroom. This room was slightly neater, the bed made and curtains drawn for the evening, candelabras and fireplace lit in preparation for the master’s homecoming. The light cast an intimate glow over the furniture and a fiercely warm brilliance over Benedict’s face. The way he looked at you now was undoubtedly affectionate, but with a difference, far more longing rest within his gaze.
You shut the door, backed against it and splayed your hands to the wood, attempting to ground yourself as your heart beat to a mind-boggling tempo. Your breath quickened and all with a simple look. Slowly, Ben took steps towards you, his eyes holding yours, it was as if he had his own gravitational field, pulling you in. Sure enough, he had you leaving the safety of the door and drawing into his arms.
“May I remove your gloves?” He asked surely, gently. With a single nod, Benedicts fingers slid under the hem of the left glove and slid it down your arm with a tedious slowness that made your skin erupt in goose bumps. Holding your gaze, he lifted your right hand to his lips, planting small kisses along the satin before taking the tip of material of a finger into his mouth and pulling the glove away. You swallowed hard, eyebrows knitting together as you thought to yourself, I am in too deep.
Benedict pressed his mouth to the palm of your hand, eliciting a soft sigh from you; he kissed his way up your arm, up your neck and to your lips once more. You melted into him as he crashed into you, long and deep, his arms wrapping around your waist, before moving up your back, to your hair. As he kissed you, his hands expertly searched for pins, casting them to the ground until your hair descended around your shoulders.
“I always liked it better this way” Benedict exhaled, combing his fingers through your long hair. You had not even considered that he would think about you.
It was like being struck by lightning, the thought of Benedict having thought of you how you had of him all these years. You leaned in to kiss him again, shamelessly and more thoroughly than before, your hands between you, undoing any button you could find, Benedict helping too. You were sure you heard the ripping of fabric, but it did not matter. He stumbled backwards towards his bed, squeezing your body to his, his fingers searching desperately for the lacing at the top of your dress. Spinning you around so that he might see, he finally drew the dress down and as the material fell around your midsection, Benedict attempted to undo the lacing on your corset.
“Do your ladies maids have something against you breathing?” Benedict exhaled exasperatedly after a few moments.
“What?” Head turned back, Benedict held knotted laces in his hands, fumbling in the fire light.
“Honestly, they may as well have stitched you in here. This must be how they are planning to protect your virtue, “Benedict laughed, “I am moments away from cutting you out of this thing” He joked.
“Bold of you to assume there is a virtue left to protect” You murmured cheekily. Benedicts eye brows rose so high, the might have joined his hair line if they had stayed up there any longer.
“Oh, that is it!” Benedict stormed across the room, picking up a small knife he had used for cutting canvas. He slid the knife with fervor along the line of eyelets on one side, the tension and pressure releasing on your upper body. There was nothing nicer than removing one’s corset at the end of the day.
Benedict flung you around to press your body back to his bare chest now, the corset material the only layer left between the two of you, your lips meeting messily over your hands clasping it to your chest. Your dress fell around your ankles, your heart beat in your throat, you struggled to breathe around it. Noticing your timorous body language, Benedict took a step back. He smiled enthusiastically, taking in what he could see of your body, while undoing his breeches. He had always been the one to take the lead when you were not sure, and apparently this was no different. You were thankful, as always.
With no words, no shame, Benedict shirked the rest of his clothing, blinking at you softly in the fire light, his body on display and his hand outstretched. You cleared your throat heartily as you looked upon him. He gave the sweetest of trusting smiles, his eyes reflecting that amber glow about the room. Finally, the courage to move the corset washed over you and you lowered it. His shoulders sunk in a way that screamed he was doing his best not to ravage you. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, and he sucked in a deep, deep breath.
“Y/n, you are the most exquisite woman I have ever seen” Benedict blinked lazily, committing your figure to memory. Your cheeks heated, blushing and smiling like a silly young girl. He started toward you; you took his hand and allowed him to pull you into his bed.
Embraced and locked in each other’s grasp, hands moved exploratorily over each other’s bodies, small moans escaped your lips into his mouth as he kissed you. Benedict rolled you over, his hardness pressed to your buttocks, his arm under your ribs and hand massaging your breast. Sweet, wet kisses placed in the crook of your neck and shoulder made your body shudder, his fingers expertly pulling on your nipples. Benedict splayed his hand across your abdomen, silky skin sliding down over your navel and towards the top of your thighs. Your breath hitched in your throat; it had been long since you had been touched like this by another person.
“May I?” Ben’s fingers danced gracefully over your mound, waiting for your approval.
“Please” You managed, basically begging as you felt wetness spread between your legs.
Benedicts fingers descended torturously, achingly, frustratingly slowly. Your hips almost bucked up to meet him subconsciously. One finger slipped right into your wetness, gliding exactly where you wanted to be touched; this was not his first dalliance, so you were expecting expert care. His movements were sure and gentle, with the exact amount of pressure needed. Truly expert. Your body writhed against his, his hard cock pressed against you with want. Your heart pattered at the thought of him inside you. Benedict added a second finger to his ministrations, delicately pressing your clitoris between them, giving little pulls and swipes exactly where he knew you’d like it most. You gasped and moaned, trying to finagle his cock inside of you from your position to no avail. Heaving in his grasp, Benedict held you right over the edge, pleasure suspended in passionate urgency with no end in sight.
“Benedict, please” You begged sincerely.
“What is it, y/n?” Benedict teased, slowing the rate of his fingers.
“Please, please, please” You repeated, grinding your ass against him.
“Use your words” Benedict groaned in your ear.
“Benedict, your teasing personality is tiresome, put yourself inside me now” you said sternly with a choked laugh as Ben withdrew his hands and reached down to grasp his cock, positioning it just so.
“Oh! Is this what you wanted?” Benedict held fast while your body bounced back against him, the tip of his cock hardly dipping inside you. He was being as painful as he always was, as frustrating and as wearisome, but something more than a bite sexier. His teeth grazed your neck as he pushed his hips forward, his hand now anchored and digging into your hip. Benedict slid all the way into you with agonizing precision, and then rested there, like the torturous wretch he had now set out to be. His thrusts were full and long after a moment of adjustment, your moans in harmonic rhythm when you were perfectly full. Benedict’s hand crept round again to your clitoris, his two fingers sliding masterfully over it, in vigorous cadence. Raucous groans and curses spewed from Benedict behind you, your hair a bed for his head, his teeth and lips pulling at your neck and ear as he pounded into you.
The incessant ministrations, the unexpected size of him and the intentionally wild driving force of his body held you in a place of intense rapture. Yelping his name, writhing in his grip for him to cease, the overwhelming force of your orgasm tore through your body with a fiendish electrifying explosion. Losing control of all your faculties, your eyes blurring, muscles tensing, speech and thought disintegrating pleasure pulled you under. Benedict did not relent, his hips expertly pounded, his hands at your waist, pulling your body down into him, seeking his own release.
“Y/n, I am going to come” Benedict groaned hotly.
“Inside me, Benedict, please. Please, let me have this” You begged, returning to yourself for this moment.
Benedicts vulgar thrust grew devastatingly hard as his hand wrapped into your hair and pushed you forward for more traction. “Fuck y/n” He groaned in completion, his last thrusts hard and deep, pumping his seed into you as you had asked. Grip releasing on your hair, Benedict pulled your body back against his, remaining inside of you for a moment, allowing you to relish what had happened. You both breathed heavily, moaning every now and then thinking about what you had done. You were happy and did not feel as awkward as you assumed you would.
“Ben?” You asked, checking on your friend whose face you could not see.
“Hmm?” He mumbled, sleepiness gathering over him. You parted your legs and rolled over, freeing him.
“Are we still best friends?” You asked softly. Benedict’s thumb grazed over your cheek, your eyes meeting. Leaning forward to kiss you in a wistfully romantic fashion. His eyes filled with glints of light, looked changed. His soft lips planted kisses over your eyelids and your nose.
“Can we not be more than that?” He whispered affectionately. Small laughs emanated from both of you, like school children with crushes. Your noses touched in warmhearted nearness, littered with small velvety kisses.
“I should have kissed you years ago. I should have married you when you debuted. I should have several years as your husband under my belt by now, if only I had not been so scared of ruining our friendship” Benedict chuckled to himself in disbelief, “If Gregory or Hyacinth should ever ask, I will tell them to take the chance, so that they too do not miss out on precious time”. Ben held your chin and pulled you into a deep kiss, his arms wrapping tight around you, so that you might not escape him again.
_____________________________
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The Things That Break A Man (Anthony Bridgerton)
This might genuinely be one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever written for Anthony Bridgerton. I poured every drop of angst, fear, devotion, and raw emotion I could into it, and writing a version of Anthony who is both feral with protectiveness and heartbreakingly tender afterward was… honestly, such a ride.
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader
Summary: When a drunk, dangerous man threatens you, Anthony Bridgerton’s fury explodes, leaving nothing but raw violence and desperate protectiveness in its wake. From the terrace to the quiet of home, fear melts into tender reassurance as your Viscount proves you are his…and his alone.
Triggers: violence against a woman, physical assault, shoving, grabbing, forced kiss, hitting, slapping, choking, fear, panic, emotional distress, bruises, injury, jealousy-fueled violence, threats of harm, trauma, crying, vulnerability, heavy angst, protective rage
MASTERLIST
Everyone in the ton knew two things the moment Anthony Bridgerton married you: first, that you were the one woman capable of softening him in a way nobody had ever managed before, and second, that nothing on this earth, not God nor king nor country, could ever stop him from protecting you with his entire soul, which - unfortunately - only made certain men, desperate, jealous, or foolishly curious, even more determined to test the boundaries of the Viscount’s temper by seeking your attention, your smile, your presence, as though you were a prize rather than a person, as though they did not fear the consequences of stepping too close to the edge of the man who had already proven himself willing to burn for the ones he loved.
Tonight, at Lord Hawthorne’s spring ball, their hunger became a little more obvious, their gazes lingering too long, their whispers too bold, their nightly drinks loosening the caution they should have held close to their chests; and while Anthony was called away by his brothers for a brief discussion about some estate matter, you felt it - an unease settling under your ribs, a prickle up the back of your neck - until a man whose name you barely remembered but whose reputation was well-known for arrogance and indulgence stepped too close, his breath thick with drink, his smile sharp in a way that made you instinctively step back, only to find the ballroom too crowded to move freely.
“Lady Bridgerton,” he drawled, eyes flicking over you with a familiarity he had not earned. “Your husband… always leaves you unattended. A pity, truly.”
You stiffened, keeping your voice polite. “The Viscount will return shortly. If you will excuse me-”
But his hand shot out, fingers clamping around your wrist with a strength heightened by drink and entitlement, his nails digging in just enough to make your breath hitch as he tugged you forward with a force that left the floor tilting slightly beneath your feet.
“No need to scurry away,” he murmured, his grip tightening even as you attempted to twist free. “We are quite alone here, aren’t we?”
You swallowed. “This is highly inappropriate-”
“Oh, come now,” he whispered, leaning too close, his breath fanning over your cheek, “surely the Viscount cannot blame a man for admiring beauty when it is so very tempting.”
You jerked your arm back, but he only laughed, guiding you, step by step, toward the terrace doors - dark, half-open, unguarded - until the cool night air spilled over your skin and the room disappeared behind you, the sounds of violins muffled as he closed the door with a slow, deliberate click.
“Let go,” you said, your voice shaking despite your attempt to remain steady.
He did not.
Instead, he crowded you against the stone balustrade, the pressure of it pressing coldly into your lower back, his fingers sliding up your arm until they reached your jaw, tilting your face toward his with a horrifying gentleness that made your stomach drop. “You deserve someone who sees you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the corner of your lip in a gesture that made revulsion crawl up your spine. “Someone who is not too busy being Viscount to remember he has a wife.”
You twisted your head away just as he dipped toward your mouth, his lips skimming the edge of your cheek, damp and unwanted, sending a jolt of panic straight through your chest as his other hand seized your waist, pulling you closer, closer-
And something inside you broke.
You reacted without thinking, teeth sinking sharply into the skin of his cheek, just below his lip, tasting copper, hearing the hiss of pain as he reared back, shock flashing across his face before it twisted into something dark, ugly, dangerous.
“You little-”
The slap came before you could brace for it, white-hot and stunning, snapping your head sideways, the world tilting violently as his hand shoved you, hard, sending you stumbling into the stone railing, pain blooming along your ribs as your breath punched out of your lungs in a strangled gasp.
You barely had time to catch yourself before he grabbed your shoulders, shaking you once, twice, his grip unforgiving as you tried to push him away, voice trembling: “Stop… please… stop-”
And then-
A sound you had never heard from Anthony before tore through the night.
It wasn’t a shout.
It wasn’t a call.
It was a roar.
Animal.
Raw.
Murderous.
“TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE.”
The man barely had time to turn before Anthony collided with him, the impact so violent you heard the air punched from his lungs as they hit the terrace floor, Anthony’s fists already swinging, relentless, punishing, each blow a horrific crack of knuckles against bone as he straddled the man’s chest, eyes wide and wild, breathing like a man who had been denied oxygen for too long.
“You touched her,” Anthony growled, voice low and shaking with rage so deep it bordered on madness. “You dared lay a filthy hand on her-”
Another punch.
“And you think you will breathe after that?”
Another.
Your voice scraped out of your throat. “Anthony-”
He didn’t hear you.
He couldn’t.
He was gone.
Lost.
You watched with trembling limbs as Anthony seized the man by the collar, dragging him upward only to slam him back down, the sickening thud echoing in the night as the man whimpered, blood already streaking down his chin.
Anthony’s hands moved to his throat.
“No-” you gasped, stumbling forward, “Anthony, please-”
But Anthony’s fingers tightened, squeezing, pushing the man’s head back into the stone, his jaw clenched so hard the veins in his neck stood out, his entire body shaking with the sheer force of his fury as he leaned over the man, voice low and lethal: “I should end you for touching her. I should end you right here.”
The man choked, struggling weakly.
Anthony pressed harder.
“ANTHONY!” Benedict’s voice cut through the night like a blade.
Suddenly there were hands grabbing Anthony’s shoulders, arms wrapping around his torso, pulling, tugging, fighting him; Benedict on one side, Colin on the other, both straining from the sheer strength of a man gone feral with fear and rage.
“Anthony! Stop! You’ll kill him-”
“Let go of him, brother- he cannot breathe-”
“He hurt her,” Anthony shouted, voice cracking with something guttural and shattered. “He hurt her, let me go… LET ME GO-”
But his brothers held him, panting, grunting with the effort, until at last his hands slipped from the man’s bruised throat, leaving him gasping and coughing on the ground.
And then Anthony saw you.
Finally saw you.
The bruises forming on your arm, the reddened handprint on your cheek, the tear tracks you hadn’t even realized were there.
Anthony froze.
Everything inside him - rage, movement, breath - stilled.
He stumbled toward you, eyes wide, horrified, devastated in a way that made your heart twist because you had never seen him look like that, never seen him genuinely afraid.
“Sweetheart…” he breathed, voice breaking, “my love- what has he- what did he -”
He reached for you, then stopped, hands hovering inches from your skin as though he feared he might hurt you simply by touching, his chest rising and falling too fast, too sharply.
“Anthony,” you whispered.
He crumpled.
Quite literally - his knees hit the stone as he pulled you into his arms with a gentleness that contradicted every violent breath he’d taken moments before, his hand sliding behind your head, his other sweeping around your waist, holding you as though he feared you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.
“I’m here,” he whispered into your hair, his voice shaking as tears slipped down onto your shoulder. “My darling girl, I am here, I am here, you’re safe, you’re safe now, I swear it-”
You trembled in his hold, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, breathing him in, grounding yourself in the scent of sandalwood and clove and the warmth of his chest pressed tightly against yours.
Benedict and Colin exchanged a look - relief, horror, pity - before stepping away to retrieve their mother, who emerged moments later with a gasp of horror, hands covering her mouth, her eyes shining with sympathy and devastation as she hurried to your side.
“My dear,” Lady Bridgerton whispered, cupping your uninjured cheek with a mother’s tenderness. “Come, let us get you home.”
But Anthony was already rising to his feet, scooping you into his arms without hesitation, his jaw set, his eyes burning, his voice firm and low as he addressed his mother:
“I am taking her home. No one else touches her. No one.”
His mother nodded softly, surprised by neither his protectiveness nor the terrifying certainty in his tone.
You buried your face in Anthony’s shoulder as he carried you through the house, ignoring the shocked gasps and murmurs that spread like wildfire through the guests. He did not slow. He did not explain. He did not acknowledge anyone.
He simply held you.
As though you were the only thing that existed.
————————
The carriage ride home felt strangely silent despite the pounding of hooves, the creak of wheels, the frantic rhythm of your own heart. Anthony had you gathered in his lap the entire time, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as though you were made of glass and he feared even the vibration of the road might cause you more pain. His chin rested against your temple, his breath shaky every few seconds - he tried to hide it, but he couldn’t, not like this, not when the adrenaline had faded and left nothing but fear and guilt in its wake.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” he whispered into your hair, voice hoarse. “Tell me the moment you feel discomfort, and I will stop the carriage, I’ll carry you the rest of the way, I do not care how many miles remain.”
“I’m alright,” you murmured, your voice still trembling from what had happened. “You don’t need to-”
Anthony flinched. Actually flinched.
“Do not say I don’t need to,” he whispered, pulling you tighter, “because I do. I need to hold you. I need to touch you. I need to know you’re still here. I nearly-” His voice cracked, the words breaking apart. “I nearly lost myself entirely when I saw him shove you. If Benedict and Colin had not-”
You felt his throat move as he swallowed hard.
“…I don’t know what would remain of me,” he finished in a whisper.
You tightened your grip on his waist, and Anthony made a sound - low, raw, relieved - burying his face in your shoulder.
When the carriage finally stopped outside Bridgerton House, Anthony didn’t wait for the footman. He simply stood, lifting you into his arms with a strength that was gentler than anyone would have expected from a man who’d been moments away from killing someone with his bare hands.
The maids rushed toward the door the moment he crossed the threshold, but Anthony’s voice was firm, icy, brooking no argument.
“No one touches her,” he ordered. “No one enters our room. I will tend to her myself.”
They curtsied and disappeared quickly, wide-eyed and whispering - but none dared disobey.
Anthony carried you through the halls with steps that grew faster the closer he came to your room, as though the only place he trusted the world with you was behind that locked door. When he reached it, he nudged it open with his shoulder and set you down only when he had no other choice, his hands sliding slowly down your arms as though afraid you might dissolve the moment he let go.
“Sit, my love,” he whispered, guiding you to the edge of the bed. “Let me… let me take care of you.”
Your throat tightened at the way his hands trembled as he reached for the laces of your gown. Anthony Bridgerton - your husband, your steady, fierce, impossibly controlled husband - was shaking.
“Anthony,” you whispered.
“Please,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your bruised cheek like it physically hurt him to look at it. “Let me do this.”
So you let him.
He unlaced your gown with slow, reverent hands, peeling away the fabric inch by inch, murmuring apologies every time you winced, even when you insisted the pain was mild. His jaw flexed when he found the bruise forming on your shoulder from where you had been shoved. His breath hitched when he saw the angry red marks around your arm where you had been grabbed.
And then he dropped to his knees.
Just… dropped.
As though the sight of the damage had pulled the ground out from under him.
“Anthony-”
“I should have been there,” he whispered, his hands hovering just above your skin. “I should never have let you walk away alone. I will never - never - allow such a thing to happen again.”
“Anthony, it wasn’t your-”
“It was,” he said sharply - not angry at you, but angry at himself, furious in a way that trembled beneath the surface. “Your safety is my charge. Your wellbeing is my duty. Your happiness is-” He broke off, dragging a shaking hand through his hair. “I failed you tonight. I failed my wife.”
You lifted his chin gently.
His eyes were wet.
“Anthony,” you whispered, “I’m not afraid of you.”
He froze.
Actually froze.
You cupped his face more firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. “Look at me,” you whispered. “I’m not afraid of you. Not your anger. Not your temper. Not your fists. Not your voice. Not anything you did tonight. You were protecting me.”
He inhaled sharply, a wounded sound that split your heart in two.
“You cannot know how that comforts me,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “You have no idea what a mercy that is to hear.”
You brushed your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Come here.”
He climbed onto the bed slowly, almost cautiously, as though afraid he might break something by moving too quickly. You lay back, pulling him with you until his body was half draped over yours, his head on your chest, his hand pressed over your heart like he needed proof it was still beating.
For a long time, he didn’t speak.
He simply breathed you in, his fingers tracing your ribs, your waist, your thigh, as though reacquainting himself with every piece of you he had feared losing.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were soft, vulnerable, shattered in the way only a man deeply in love can be shattered.
“May I… kiss them?” he whispered, nodding to the bruises.
You nodded.
So he kissed them.
Every one.
Your cheek.
Your shoulder.
The marks on your arm.
The small bruise forming on your hip.
Each kiss was slow, reverent, full of apologies he didn’t have the words to say.
When he reached your lips, he paused, his forehead against yours.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispered. “Name it, and I will give it to you.”
“I just need you,” you murmured, threading your fingers into his hair. “Stay with me. Lie with me. Hold me.”
Anthony exhaled shakily, the relief in his eyes almost painful to witness.
“Always,” he whispered.
He slid beneath the blankets with you, pulling your body against his chest, wrapping himself around you as though trying to form a shield with his own limbs. His hand splayed over your back, warm and steady. His lips brushed the crown of your head again and again, murmuring soft reassurances between breaths.
“You’re safe.”
“You’re mine.”
“I’m here.”
“I won’t let anything hurt you again.”
“I love you. God, I love you.”
The room grew quiet.
Your breathing steadied.
His heartbeat settled.
And in the darkness, with his arms tight around you, with his breath warm against your skin, with the weight of his devotion pressing softly into your bones-
You felt safe.
You felt protected.
You felt loved.
And for the first time since the terrace, the terror finally melted away.
———————
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She's like the wind (Benedict Bridgerton)
Paring: Benedict Bridgerton x virgin!Reader
Summary: after bottled up feeling becomes too much Benedict finally confesses his love to his childhood best friend.
Warrings: SMUT, innocent/virgin reader, first times, oral(F receiving), unprotected sex, pull out methods, Benedict being a total sweetheart like usual, kinda public sex? But not really(in a gazebo at night).
MasterList
“What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honour her being with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes” Benedict said to help Anthony, but in the end he couldn't keep his eyes off a certain someone as the words fell out of his mouth. It was words he always believed in, but never had the guts to act upon them.
“That's nice...” Anthony admited. He crossed his arms and nodded. “now if you resight those words to y/n that would be grand”
Benedict rolled his eyes, if it was one thing Anthony never gave up on was his little brother and the girl he considered his best friend.
-present day
It was late into the night, Benedict couldn't get her or the last few months out of his head. Benedict and y/n have always been so close, practically glued to the hip since childhood. A blind man could see the love they shared with one another, the problem is he's never made the move to court her
Whenever he gets closer or the spark becomes too much he backs off with the feeling of unworthiness. Anthony never fails with the snide comment about Benedict admitting his feelings.
That night he truly felt he messed up. He had gotten wrapped up with someone else after sharing a kiss with y/n months prior. He wanted everything to be more than alright, he wanted to have the courage to tell the only woman he truly loved that she is the only one he could ever want.
Benedict gave up on getting any sleep and walked out to the backyard. That's when he saw her on one of the swings alone. His heart skipped a beat, even in darkness and in her nightgown she was still unimaginably beautiful.
“You've been avoiding me…”
“I'm not avoiding you…” y/n sighed, avoiding eye contact and gently swung on the swing.
They had been avoiding each other, or y/n had been avoiding him. She had thought he loved her as much as she did him. Y/n had found out he's been sleeping around with someone else. I guess she just lost hope on a future with him.
Benedict let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He watched y/n swing for a few moments, the silence around making his heart beat faster than normal. The only sound was the creaking of the swing sets and the wind rustling the trees. He finally found the strength to speak. “We need to talk darling”
“I don't wish to talk to you” y/n snapped softly. She let out a frustrated huff, standing up from the swing and got back on it. This time she was standing on it with her back to Benedict, she didn't care if it was childish.
A frown came to his face as he saw her turn her back on him. He had to hold back a chuckle seeing y/n standing on the swing set, he thought it would be cute if he wasn't trying to earn her forgiveness.
Benedict took a step in front of y/n and stopped the swing with one hand. “You can be mad at me all you want darling, but we're talking about this”
“Of course I won't get a say in the matter” I said frustrated.
Benedict let out a sigh, placing his hand on the tree next to the swing, blocking her in. “you never had a problem speaking your mind to me before, so speak your mind”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I'm angry at you! You're the most intelligent, most dim-witted person I ever met, but then again I must be beating you on that one because I was dim-witted to think you could ever see more than your best friend”
He was surprised with the coldness in her voice, his heart broke at the thought of all the pain he caused her. “Darling, you think I can't see all that? you're the most beautiful, kindest, and smart woman I have ever laid eyes on. I see all of you, I always have”
“Why don't I believe you?” y/n asked in a heartbroken tone, trying to keep herself from tearing up. “bloody hell, do I actually mean anything more to you?”
“You do darling, you mean more to me than anyone else. You always have!”
Benedict's heart ached at the brokenness in her voice. He could see the pain in your eyes, the sight made him cringe in regret, wishing he had just spoke to her about his feelings instead of going off with the other girl.
“Please look at me” reached his free hand out, moving his fingers gently against her chin. Y/n looked away, tears pricking her eyes. “don't speak words you don't me... Especially don't speak words you'll regret later”
Benedict placed a gentle finger under y/n’s chin and finally turned her face to him, it shattered his heart more to see the tears in her eyes. “Please darling don't cry and please don't take what I say as lying”
He hated the silence, all he wanted to hear was her voice and more than ever he wanted to make sure she believed him. He leaned closer to y/n’s face, gently pressing his forehead against hers. He was desperate to make her believe him.
“I've loved you for as long as I can remember. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, something stirred within me, a connection that resonated deep in my soul.
As the years went by, my feelings for you only grew stronger, yet I found myself hiding them from you and from myself. I became tangled in a web of self-doubt and unworthiness. I convinced myself that I was unworthy of your love and strength, that my love meant nothing.
But now, looking back, You filled a part of my soul I didn't even realize was empty, you healed the scars I didn't even know were there. I see how foolish I was to ignore my heart for so long. Believe me when I say you're the thing I want most of all”
Y/n looked into his blue eyes, tears pooling out of her (e/c) ones. “benedict…”
Benedict couldn't bring himself to take his hands off her. He was trying to fight the urge to hold y/n tight against him, but he just couldn't. He lifted his hand up to her cheek, slowly wiping some of the tears away and caressed her skin. He leaned his head down ever so slightly, his mouth a few inches from hers. “Darling, Say you believe me.please”
Finally, y/n pressed her forehead against his, their noses bumping gently together. “I believe you” y/n whispered. Shebplaced her hands on both sides of his jaw as their breath mingled together.
Benedict exhaled heavily, the feeling of their skin touching together was like a soothing fire. It lit his soul with a passion that he had been trying to ignore. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, the sound of it thundering behind his eardrums.
He leaned even closer, only a breath still separating their lips. His eyes searched hers, his head was spinning with a burning desire, barely holding himself back. When she spoke those words that he longed to hear, the last thread of restraint broke. “Darling... Can I kiss you?”
“yes”
He couldn't resist any longer. His hand moved up into her hair, intertwining into the curls as his eyes flickered from your mouth to your eyes. He quickly closed the gap between their mouths. He captured her lips in a searing kiss. It was like a dam broke inside him. It was desperate and hungry yet needy, making her nearly lose balance off the swing she was standing on.
Benedict felt y/n start to stumble and he quickly wrapped one of his arms tightly around her waist as one of her arms wrapped around his neck and kept a strong hold of the rope on the swing with the other.
His lips moved softly but desperately against hers as he kept her from falling. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against his made him let out a small moan into the kiss. He held her in place, deepening the kiss. He kissed her like it was their first and last kiss. His tongue slowly swiped your bottom lip, begging for access.
Benedict pulled her off the swing, swiftly pushing her against the tree next to them. He heard the sweet moans coming from her lips. His tongue twirled against hers, tasting her sweet mouth. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her between the tree and himself. He tilted his head slightly, his mouth moving against hers at an angle. The feeling of his fingertips tracing along her curves made her heart pound against her chest. It made her feel exhilarated, nervous, and loved all at the same time.
Benedict broke the kiss when his hand reached the hem of y/n’s nightgown, his lips then traveled down the side of her neck. The feeling of her skin against his mouth left a trail of hot sparks. He stopped to gently kiss a sensitive part of your neck, his tongue slowly tracing the soft skin.
“w-wait” she, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. “y-you know I've n-never done this before” she whispered softly.
He stared at her with nothing but love as he gently held her hips with both his hands, his thumbs rubbing light circles on her skin as he held her against the tree.
“I know darling,” he replied, his voice low and deep, his eyes never leaving hers. “that's why we're not doing it here”
Benedict gently pulled y/n away from the tree, his hands never leaving her body. He looked into her eyes, watching the mixture of passion and nervousness in them. He felt his heart swell with love and desire for. He could practically feel all his emotions bubbling at the surface.
“Do you trust me?” he held his hand out.
The way his eyes stared into her soul, they were always her favorite feature of his. They held nothing but trust and love. “I trust you” y/n said softly and placed her hand in his.
Benedict felt a spark of electricity. His fingers tightened around hers, his hand fitting around it like a perfect missing piece. He lifted her hand up and slowly kissed her knuckles, his eyes not breaking eye contact. “Come darling, the night is still young”
Benedict led y/n through the yard, their hands never breaking from each other. The sound of their soft footsteps on the ground echoed slightly against the night air. The only other sound was from the crickets chirping in the grass and trees. Benedict led her to the gazebo in the very back of the yard, a spot usually hidden by the darkness of the night. It was a small structure, made of wood, with white paint and wisteria winding around it.
Y/n held his hand tight as they silently walked up the steps, her heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety. He wanted to soothe her anxiousness but he was nervous himself. So many years of loving her, dreaming of this moment, and he still couldn't believe it was finally happening. He stopped when she reached the top of the steps, looking into her eyes as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. His voice was low and gentle. “Just relax darling... It's just you and me here”
Y/n nodded, putting all her trust in him. “I know”
Benedict moved closer to her, his other hand gently coming up to caress the side of her face, his touch was soft and gentle. “You're safe with me darling. I promise I'll take good care of you”
“I know you will” she said softly.
He felt y/n’s hand press against his chest, right over his heart. It almost skipped a beat under her touch. He leaned a little closer, his head slowly lowering until his lips were hovering above hers. “And I promise to worship your body the way you deserve to be worshipped”
Y/n cupped his cheek, kissing him softly as he pressed her back against the pillar. His hands slowly moved to her waist, his fingers gently tracing up and down her curves. He leaned his body against hers, trapping her between him and the pillar.
Y/n moaned softly against his lips, her fingers slowly carding through his hair slowly as their tounges tangled together. Benedict ever so gently broke the kiss and started trailing kisses and gentle nips on her neck. He sucked gently on a spot just slightly below your ear, knowing how sensitive it was. His hands slowly inched higher under her nightgown and lifted you up from under your thighs, carrying her to the middle of the gazebo. He gently layed her down on a spread out quilt Hyacinth left. “are you comfortable here?” he asked softly, she nodded softly.
He knelt down, placing his knees on either side of her hips and leaned over her. He looked down with darkened eyes, slowly inching her nightgown higher. Benedict's eyes traced over her skin as it was slowly revealed to him. He placed his hands on your thighs, his fingers tracing up and down the soft skin. “You're so gorgeous, so beautiful” he said softly, making her blush.
A soft moan left her lips as the cool air hit her exposed skin. He leaned forward, bending over until his mouth was hovering above her stomach. “I'll be gentle, darling. We'll take it slow”
“I trust you” y/n whispered, giving him the green light. Benedict carefully removes her nightgown, throwing it to the other side of the gazebo. He stared down at her innocent beauty, taking a moment to just look at her.
The blush that formed under his gaze only caused his desire to increase. He lays his body down between her legs, his body hovering over her. He closed the distance, making Y/n moaned softly against his lips. She cupped his jaw as his lips clamed hers and gently.
Benedict lets out a low growl, his hands sliding down to her waist as he deepens the kiss. His heart is pounding in his chest. “y/n…”
“Y-yes?” she whisper, her heart pounding against her chest. She stared up at him, desperately wanting his clothes off when she felt his hard erection pressing against her thigh.
He broke the kiss, his breath coming out heavy as he leaned his forehead against hers. He tried to control his breathing but he was failing as all he could think of was just how badly he wanted her. “I need you, y/n. Will you let me make love to you?”
“Yes. God, yes” y/n moaned softly and desperately. Benedict looked down at her, his voice was husky and thick with need. “Tell me if you need to stop, darling. Tell me if it's too much” His hands started their travels again, tracing every curve and every inch of her body.
Y/n kissed back passionately as she started untucking his shirt from his pants. Benedict felt her hands work on the buttons of his shirt. The nervous tremble in her fingers made his heart skip a beat. “Here, darling,” Benedict gently moved her hands away from his shirt. He sat up, kneeling between her legs. He slowly lifted his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere off to the side.
Her thighs clenched together without realizing it. He watched the way her eyes roamed down his chest. The way she lightly touched him sent chills down his spine. He felt his legs jerk when her fingers traced down the V-line of his lower abdomen, his muscles taut, almost as if he was struggling to control himself.
“Darling” He whispered, his hands gently spreading her legs apart. “My beautiful y/n” He leans forward, pressing soft kisses along her inner thigh.
“B-ben” y/n moaned softly, her head fell back in pleasure as he trailed his lips up her inner thigh. Benedict's blue bord into hers, his gaze filled with love and desire. He never broke eye contact as he continued trailing kisses higher until he reaches her soaking clit, teasing her with gentle kisses and licks. “You taste like heaven”
Y/n moaned almost embarrassing loud, feeling his tounge against her fold for the first time. Out of instincted she arched her hips up, gripping his hair. He hums in pleasure at the taste of her, gripping her hips to hold them still. “Let go, my love,” He continues to lick and nip, his face soaked in her release as his tongue flicking at your clit. “You're mine”
Y/n wasn't completely clueless to sex, but the pleasure was intense and all she could think about was him. She moaned and cried his name as a new feeling tightened in her stomach. “B-ben... I t-think” she couldn't speak or think straight. “something is happening”
Benedict looks up at you. He speaks softly, his voice reassuring. “It's okay, my love. You're having your first orgasm” He picked up the pace, licking and sucking on her clit like a starved man. His fingers gently pressed against her entrance, pumping in and out slowly.
Y/n gripped his hair, arching her hips. “Benedict!”
Benedict, licking up every last drop of her release as she rode out her first orgasm. “You're so beautiful when you come, y/n”
He gives her folds one last lick then starts trailing kisses up her body, paying special attention to her breasts and nipples. “I'm going to make love to you now, are you ready?” He positions himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for any uncertainty.
“Will it hurt?” y/n asked softly, carding her fingers through his hair.
Benedict looks up at her, his blue eyes dark and filled with desire and love. “It might at first. But I promise it'll feel good after that. I promise I'm going to be gentle, darling”
Y/n nodded softly, he kissed her back gently, before breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. He positions himself at her entrance, taking her hips in his hand. “just tell me when you're ready”
“I'm ready” she said softly, taking a deep breath.
Benedict starts pushing inside slowly, his face contorting in concentration as he tries to be gentle. “Ah, y/n” He breathes out heavily, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/n wimpered at the slight sting, digging her nails into his back as he stretched her out. “B-Benedict”
He stills for a moment, letting her adjust to his size. “Shh, it's okay, my love. Just breathe” He kisses her forehead softly, his heart pounding in his chest. “You're doing so well” He whispered as he continues pushing inside, inch by inch. Once he was finally fully sheathed inside he starts to slowly rock his hips, trying to ease the pain.
Y/n held on to him tight, her breathing was heavy and she wimpered his name as she adjusted to his size. “B-Benny. Oh god, Ben” she moaned as the pain slowly turned into pleasure. He started picking up the pace, pushing deeper and deeper each time. “You feel amazing, y/n. So unbelievably good”
“Benny!” she moaned into the night, tugging at his hair. He hisses in pleasure, gripping her thighs to move them higher and wider. “Oh, y/n” He groans, thrusting deeper. “You're so beautiful, love the sounds you make”
“C-can you go faster?” she asked innocently. “p-please”
Benedict grits his teeth, fighting against his own desire to obey her request. “Faster, y/n?” He asks, his voice strained. “but ou have to promise me that you'll tell me the moment it becomes too much for you, okay? I don't want to hurt you, darling” He said looking into her eyes, his own filled with a burning intensity.
“You won't hurt me” she said softly.
He nods, his heart racing with excitement and concern. “okay, love” He grips her thighs even tighter and starts thrusting at a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing into the night. “Oh, y/n, you feel incredible” He moans, his eyes never breaking the inten eye contact.
Y/n trailed her hands done his back frantically, looking for somthing to hold onto to and ground herself. He growls at the feeling of her hand gripping his ass, his hips snapping with increased speed. “You're going to make me lose control” He warns, his voice deep and husky. “And I can't have that, darling.Not yet”
“W-why not?” she asked softly.
Benedict panting heavily, trying to regulate his breath. “Because when I lose control, I don't hold back.And I'm not sure you're ready for that, y/n” He said with a serious expression, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and desire.
Y/n grabed his face, cupping both sides of his jaw. She looked into his eyes wirh nothing but love and trust. “it's okay, we're okay to go harder”
He looks back at her, he stutters, unable to find words. His hips snap into hers again, causing him to lose his train of thought. He groans as his grip tightens on her thighs, making her head fall back in pleasure. She moaned his name like a prayer.
Benedict buries his face in her neck, his teeth marking her skin as he speaks against you. “y/n” He chants her name like a mantra, his love for her overwhelming him. “Fuck... You're everything to me” He whispers, his voice breaking with emotion.
“I love you” she moans, her teeth piercing his skin.
He lets out a groan, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. “I love you too, y/n. More than anything” He wraps his arms around her body tightly, holding her as he continues to thrust.
then that close, tight feeling in y/n's stomach hit her again and it was stronger than last time. She moaned his name, gripping his hair “I think…” she shuttered.
Benedict's eyes rolling back as he groans low in his throat. “Fuck, yes!” He thrusts harder now, chasing his own release. “I'm close, y/n” He pants, sweat dripping from his brow.
“I'm so close, Benny” as soon as those words fell from her lips the knot in her stomach snapped. She threw her head back moaning, her orgasm infecting her sences.
“y/n!” He roars, feeling your tight walls clenching around him. The feeling of her coming around him is too much for him to handle, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train. “w-where do you want me to come?” he aksed quickly.
Y/n’s heart was pounding against her chest, her orgasm still hitting her like a freight train. “I... I don't know” she said breathlessly, digging her nails into his back.
He groans. The feeling of her nails on his back causing him to thrust harder into her. “Fuck, Love” He takes a deep breath, his body feeling like it's on fire. “It's okay, I'll... I'll pull out, Darling”
He pulls out, causing y/n to moan as every inch of him slipped out of her soaking folds. He groans, coating her stomach in his cum as he holds himself up. He panted heavily. “y/n, fuck” He looks down at her, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “I need you to look at me, Darling” He gently tilts her head up to meet his gaze.
Benedict smiles, his thumb gently tracing her jawline. “You're so beautiful, Love” He leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back. “I love you. So much”
“I love you too” y/n says softly, making his heart fill with joy at your words. “I'm going to clean you up. You're all sticky. Okay?”
Benedict reaches over her, grabbing his shirt. “hold on, Darling” He gently cleans up the mess on her stomach before wiping between your legs. “when we get inside I'll run you a bath”
Y/n moaned softly as he cleaned between her thighs, the noise making Benedict glance up. His throat tightened at the sight of your beautiful, cum-covered body. “Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?”
“N-no. It felt amazing, ” she said softly, her eyes fluttering. “what we did” she whispered.
He glances up at y/n, his heart swelling with love for her. Benedict watches the blush spread across her cheeks. “You have no idea how much you mean to me” He leans in to place a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling away.
“let's get you inside” he gently picked her up bridal style, making sure the quilt is covering her exposed body. Benedict held her safe and close as he carried up to the house. He was cautious as he carried her to his room in case of anyone who might be awake in the late hours of the night.
Deluge
Pariing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: When your husband, Benedict, joins you in your relaxing bath, it soon becomes anything but...
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Bathing, foreplay, vaginal sex, sex under water.
Word Count: 2.1k
Author's note: Anon request fill for bathtub sex with Benedict. Well, this is not exactly unexpected, given ep 8 lol. This is built upon a drabble I wrote a couple of years ago. Not betaed, I just wanted to get it posted before I changed my mind lol. Enjoy! <3
Closing your eyes with a contented sigh, you relax back against one end of the large copper bathtub. The water hot, the air swirling with delicate notes of jasmine—a sublime oasis of sensual calm.
Just the gentle sound of a ticking clock upon the nearby mantle has you slipping into a reverie, so much so that you do not even discern the door softly clicking open. Starling a little at a smooth baritone voice ringing out.
“Is there room for one more in that bathtub?”
Your eyes fly open to find one Benedict Bridgerton standing just beyond the other end, peeling off his riding coat with a smirk on his face. He is freshly returned from a bracing ride out over the fields on this fine, sunny morning.
“That depends,” you simper, pushing up to allow your nipples to peak over the top of the water line—an intentional tease. “Pray tell, how dirty did you get out there?”
“Absolutely filthy,” he rumbles, eyes glittering as his gaze slips down to your breasts, his boots clattering heavily onto the wooden floor as he yanks them off.
“Well then, we shall need to find a suitable method by which to scrub you clean indeed…” Your response is coquettish, cocking your head to the side as if in deep thought as you watch his waistcoat disappear.
“I have a proposal…” he offers, the words slightly muffled behind his shirt as he discards it over his head.
“I am all ears, Mr Bridgerton.”
Reflexively, you bite your lip as his sculpted torso is revealed. There is a slight sheen from his exertions, his skin glistens like polished marble in the gauzy sunlight filtering through the window voiles. When your eyes finally pan up to meet his, his brow is arched, teasingly, clearly enjoying your wanton perusal.
“Perhaps you may cleanse my body while it is wrapped around yours, Mrs Bridgerton?”
There's a crooked smile toying at his handsome face as he asserts such, while also roughly unbuttoning his trousers.
“What an intriguing prospect…” You quip as you twist your legs and push up onto your knees.
His inhale is ragged as your naked body is revealed, rivulets sluicing down over your flesh that his eyes greedily track, his chest heaving just a little more.
Then he leans forward, hands curling around either side of the bathtub as he looms large, and his breath dusts warm over your cheekbone. He smells woodsy with a musky undercurrent that is all him, his unbuttoned trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips.
“What a rotten shame there is no room in that most sizeable bathtub for me, too, then,” he murmurs.
“Such an awful shame,” you concur in a whisper, tilting to trace your mouth over his.
There is an amused huff, and then suddenly his lips claim yours. The kiss is instantly intense, a growl in the back of his throat as his fingers curl tightly on the rolltop, his signet ring tinking against it. You reach forward blindly as your tongue tangles, hands sliding covetously down the sculpted plane of his body, giving his last item of clothing the final tug of encouragement needed to fall to the floor.
He pulls back from the kiss and stands upright, gloriously naked, cock already standing proud, stepping fully out of the trousers, and allowing you to enjoy the view for a few moments before he climbs into the tub, sliding his legs either side of your knees, facing you.
Instantly, he hauls you forward, arms banding your waist and lips finding yours again hungrily. The jostled water laps your bottom as you settle over him, that cock an insistent hot press into your belly, your pebbled nipples sliding over the smooth slab of his pectorals. One of his hands slides down your back, mapping your contours until it reaches your buttock, squeezing your rounded flesh and pressing you down further over his body. Your pussy already slicker than the water you are submerged in.
“This is not getting you clean, husband…” You cluck pointedly, but your breathiness slightly undermines your argument. Not that you really care, something primally alluring about his salty, tangy essence when he is slightly less than clean.
“I am not stopping you, dear wife,” he challenges, lips skating over your cheekbone. “The sponge is right there….”
Your eyes track sideways to the small stool by the side of the tub, where there is indeed said item, alongside a bar of almond soap and a jug for washing hair. But then he sucks on your earlobe, both of his large hands now grasping your bottom, seeming to span the entirety of both cheeks, and all you can do is melt into his attentions.
“You do not play fair…”
Your protests falter as he sucks upon that sensitive spot on your neck, goosebumps breaking out down your arms, despite the warm water you both lie in. Your hands instead loop his neck, nuzzling until his lips meet yours again.
The kiss you share starts slow and sensual, but once again soon turns passionate, lips sliding hungrily over each other, breathing each other's air. A hot surge of want through your being as Benedict gently spanks your bum cheek under the water, smiling into your mouth.
“Perhaps instead, then, you may have a morning ride,” he coaxes, the double entendre clear from the bowing of his body, so his cock nudges you. “I promise to make it even more stimulating than mine was.”
Such an offer is impossible to resist, especially when he encourages you to sit upright, and he tilts toward to catch your nipple in his mouth, sucking insistently in a way that is a beeline right to your core. You grasp the tub for leverage as he swaps to your other breast, pressing yourself into his questing tongue and suction, as your other hand slips underwater. His teeth bite down as your fingers wrap around his cock, making you groan and shudder, suddenly desperate for him to be inside you. Shuffling so you line up your body.
You both groan loudly as you lower yourself onto him. It's the same glorious stretch it always is, cleaved open, your pussy clinging to his every contour as you slide to his root; that eyerolling sensation of utter fullness could simply never get old.
His wet hands slide up over your back, round your shoulders and cup your face, eyes locked on each other as you start to move, lips touching, just a slow rise and fall, luxuriating in how it feels to have him inside you while in this warm aromatic bath.
Droplets of water run down his toned forearms and drip onto your diaphragm as you ride him unhurriedly, indulgently, revelling in every passing contour of his cock.
One of his pinky fingers slides down your face to hook into the side of your mouth, and you suckle upon it, a trace bloom of tanned leather hide from where he gripped the horse's reins. It spurs you on. Staring him down as you start to speed up. The water now sloshes about the tub as you go harder, faster, chasing that wondrous sensation with increasing urgency.
The warmth of the water makes you feel flushed, even a little lightheaded from the exertion, slumping forward and clinging to him like a vine, him caging you as you ride and moan loudly, uncaring if the staff may hear. They are more than used to your amorous activities now, having walked in on more than one occasion to your passionate lovemaking in all rooms of the house, even outside in the grounds.
You feel your clit swelling with each nudge to his body as you rise and fall, a zip of pleasure that makes you ache for his fingers there to send you over the edge, your lips on the shell of his ear.
“Touch me,” you rasp, a little breathless now, and you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it.
“Oh, not yet, darling,” he denies, his smirk obvious where his face is pressed into your cheek.
You lean back to stare into his eyes with a beseeching pout, hoping to implore him.
“Do not be so hasty…” he chides playfully, one hand slipping underwater to hold your hip, halt your motions, so you are sat upon him, clit throbbing against his ticklish pubic hair. “Rest, my love.”
He seems to enjoy how you whimper, the stretch of him inside you a mass you cannot ignore, the urge to circle your hips to drag his cock over all those spots inside almost impossible to resist. But you do as he suggests, sit impaled upon him as he detangles from you, leans back on the tub end and reaches casually for the sponge, soaping it up.
The drag of the slightly rough texture of it over your nipples makes you clench upon him, and he groans deeply, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before he continues soaping up the part of your body above water with almost torturously slow motions, dipping it into the water occasionally to cleanse your body of the soap.
He strays lower under the water, a devastating crooked smile as he swipes the sponge over your belly, brushing briefly over your clit in a way that makes you shudder anew.
“Your turn,” he hands you the sponge and nods down at his body.
You mirror his actions, cleaning his torso, enjoying the play of lithe muscle under skin as he breaths deeply, watching you. His cock is still rigid inside you. The scent of almond rising from his skin makes you want to pitch forward and bite down on his broad shoulder.
He sits up and kisses you as he gently lifts you off his cock, you whimpering over his tongue at its loss.
“Turn around,” he purrs, taking the sponge from you. Dutifully, you flip over using his thighs as leverage to do so. Then he is up and kneeling behind you, guiding your hands to the far end of the tub, curling your fingers over it.
You cry out as he roughly thrusts into you from behind, ploughing deep, then holds still once more. One hand moulded to the flare of your hip, the other dragging that sponge across your back. Washing your skin, running languorous swipes across your ribcage and spine, while all that you can think of is being fucked hard.
“Please….” You moan, hoping it will telegraph your need.
“Once you are clean…” He counters, and that sponge rounds your hip, a teasing swipe of its ticklish texture against your distended clit again.
Just as you want to protest, he starts to move. A slow, sensual drag that has you rolling with him in sync. The feeling is utterly divine, the water lapping your sides as he takes you from behind, his chin hooked over your shoulder. One of his hands cups your face, twisting so your lips meet hungrily. Your moans get louder as he speeds up, both of you needing a release now.
You cling to the bath edge, knees sliding on the oiled copper as his hands roam your body, reaching in front to seize your breasts, your nipples snagging between the swell of his knuckles, you calling out into his mouth.
The pace is faster now, the water turning choppy as his long, dextrous finers slide between your legs, catching against your engorged clit as you call his name. Just a few flicks and you are rocketed skywards, the rhythmic pull of his cock furrowing into you enough to fling you into the stars. Barely cognizant of the tide of water now swashing out of the tub as his movements become frenzied, approaching his peak, your pussy convulsing around him.
As ecstasy races through every cell of your body, his mouth hangs open on your cheekbone as he freezes. Dimly, you feel that familiar pulse deep inside the warmth of his seed blooming against your hilt as he shudders and moans your name, collapsing against your back, panting as you still float on a cloud of bliss.
“I am almost certain there is now more water outside this tub than in,” you giggle a few beats later as you rearrange, him pulling you down on top of him in a languid embrace. “Will it not cause damage?”
“Possibly,” Benedict chuckles blithely, kissing your temple, his fingers trailing soothing patterns on your lumbar spine. “I’ll towel it all up before Mrs Crabtree can chastise me,” he promises.
——
“Tis quite the darndest thing, Mr Bridgerton…”
A few days later, you return from a walk to find Mr Crabtree signalling to a large stain that has appeared on the ceiling of the dining room.
You wince slightly, feeling your cheeks flush dark as Benedict grins unrepentantly, both of your reactions unseen by the other man, who is still staring up at the patch, puzzled.
“Such a mystery indeed, Mr Crabtree,” he breezes, shooting you a wink.
masterlist • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)
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a day quite blue.
Benedict Bridgerton x F!Wife!Reader
A/N: hello everyone! It's been months since I've written something for Benedict, but I feel him coming back to me with his season so close!!! I'm so so so excited for him and Sophie :)) and I've been loving the things I've seen from the season already regarding them! Anyways, this took me a really long time to write, and I started it on a day I was quite sad, but didn't manage to post it then for a self-indulgent comfort fic lol. Here it is now though! <3
CW: nothing, Benedict being a sweetheart, Benedict being stolen away to help Anthony with something (how dare he, Benedict's wife needs him, Anthony smh), fluff, hurt and comfort (but the hurt isn't specified, it's just a bad day), Reader feeling morose for no good reason (we all have those days), no mention of y/n, UNBETAED.
(we'll have new gifs from his season soon!!!)
(2.1k words)
gif by @benedictsbridgerton !! <3
It had proven to be a challenging day. Not for any particular reasons. Days were sometimes challenging without there being a genuine challenge to be surmounted. She’d woken and felt instantly that she would not have an easy go of it this day. What’s more, she’d found, upon waking, that Benedict wasn’t in their bed, which was highly unusual. If ever he woke earlier than her, he remained in bed and busied himself with reading or sketching until she woke so they could start their morning together. However, on most days, he enjoyed to sleep in and she never begrudged him that. To have him away from their bed entirely was an unwelcome notion, especially on a day such as this, where she felt she needed the warmth of his comfort more than usual.
She gave herself a few minutes to remain in bed, staring at the ceiling briefly, then turning with a huff onto her side to stare out the window, and then back onto her other side with another huff to stare at the wall, before ringing the service bell. She knew no good would come of delaying this day and what it might bring.
“Good morning, madam.” Said Poppy, one of the newer members of the help.
It was her first time in London, seeing as she’d been hired from the village near My Cottage. The household had only just recently all arrived and moved into Benedict’s London apartments for the upcoming season, and Poppy, still of an agreeable age, seemed to now walk with a pep in her step from being in such a large city for the first time.
“Good morning, Poppy,” She replied while Poppy busied herself with opening the curtains and opening one window to let fresh air in. “How are you enjoying London?”
“Oh, ma’am, it is most wonderful! So much of it to see, so many people!” Poppy returned, voice full of earnest joy, now helping her into her robe whilst she was putting on her slippers.
“That gladdens me, Poppy. Have you enough time to see more of the city? I find it is most pleasant with the sunset. Though, that may very well be because I have a gentleman whose arm is offered to me once I wish to see the city so.” She smiled weakly, thoughts straying to Benedict as they so often did.
“Oh, do not fuss over me, madam. I… are you quite well? You seem somewhat morose, madam.” Poppy inquired cautiously, standing at her full height, arms in front of her as she watched the lady of the house sit down at her vanity.
Poppy moved to stand behind her chair, reaching for the hair brush her lady preferred.
“It is nothing. It is only that… some days are harder than others. Do you feel similarly sometimes, Poppy?” At Poppy’s nod, she continued. “I suppose that I was hoping to have Benedict’s company today, but he seems to not be here. Is he downstairs, perhaps?”
“No, madam… Mr. Bridgerton left the house about an hour ago. Viscount Bridgerton had called him to Bridgerton House. Or so I heard from Mr. Bridgerton’s valet.”
She nodded tersely, offering a weak smile to Poppy in the mirror.
“I see.”
“I am sorry to be bringing disappointing news, madam. Mr. Bridgerton will certainly be home before nightfall, though. He gave no signs that he would be sleeping at Bridgerton House. He shall be back to you, madam.” Poppy smiled gently, setting the brush down now that its job was done. “The dress for today, madam?” She queried gently, walking over to open the lady’s dresser.
“I believe… that one over there.” The lady pointed, thinking hard on what cravat Benedict had likely selected for the day, and opting to match her dress to it.
“Of course, madam. A wonderful choice.” Poppy smiled knowingly, reaching for the dress and busying herself with preparing it to be worn.
“I believe I will be going outside today.”
“Outside, madam? Where to? Shall a carriage be necessary? I shall call down to one of the footmen, have him prepare one for you at once.”
“Well, I shall break my fast first, but perhaps in an hour, at most, yes. I wish to have a promenade. Perhaps to wash the melancholy away.”
“Certainly, madam. A good idea.”
Once she’d gotten dressed and gone down to the dinner room, the area feeling vastly empty even though only one man was missing from it, she broke her fast with whatever caught her fancy. However, in truth, the true object of her desires was not within the room. An unfortunate happening that she wished to remedy at once.
So, once she’d had some food, she got into the carriage the household had called for her, and she set en-route towards Bridgerton House. Once they’d gotten closer to it, she bid the driver to stop the carriage so that she might walk the rest of the way to the House. The driver was initially uncertain, not wishing to leave her alone, but she insisted, and gestured towards the streets, currently filling themselves with promenading couples, likely on their way to St. James’ Park.
She was helped down, and from there began her solitary promenade. As she’d told the driver, many couples were out on the streets, and many of them recognized her and greeted her politely. Some even asked her if she was alright, asked her why she was without her famed gentleman, and offered to have her join them so that she might not be alone. She denied that last offer whenever it came up, the shake of her head as she did a gentle thing so as to calm them and stop them from pushing further. She did not much feel like talking to anyone at all today. Well, perhaps there was one exception to that rule. And yet he was not there for her to talk to.
Just as the streets were getting emptier the closer she was to Bridgerton House, her walk seemingly ended. She knew that it would be the next turn, to the right. However, as she was walking up the road she’d turn down the right on, a carriage came from the very direction she was going towards. She ignored the carriage, busying herself with thinking about what could have caused her melancholy. She’d had a sleep average in length and quality to her norm, she’d had food upon waking, she’d not quarrelled with Benedict the night before, nor with anyone, really. Truly, there was no good reason for her to be morose! She’d hoped that she would find a sound, logical explanation. She much disliked it being left up to the fates.
The sound of horse hoofs coming to a dramatic stop, as well as a carriage careening to a stop right after dragged her out of her conjecture. She turned her head to where the sound had come from, just in time to see a very familiar man stepping out of the carriage she’d just seen turning onto her street.
Benedict looked equal parts confused and amused. He ran up to her (quite unsafe), crossing the street without care.
“My darling, what in the world are you doing?” He panted, catching his breath that he’d likely lost from surprise and from the unexpected run he’d just taken.
“Good morning, my husband.” She riposted calmly, leaning in for a kiss. He returned it, naturally, his bare hand (he’d pulled off one of his gloves for this) tenderly caressing her cheek before moving to her waist.
“Good morning,” He repeated, now more lightly amused than anything because he’d seen she was well. “I shall ask again, however you should take care to notice that I am doing so calmly and serenely, what are you doing here?”
“I am on a promenade.”
“Yes, I quite well see that, my darling. However, a promenade all on your own? No chaperone, no one to hold a conversation with?”
“I am married now, as I ought to remind you, perhaps. No need for a chaperone.” She looked at him, gauging how he’d respond.
“Yes, well… then, no me?” He asked, dejected and pouting briefly (though that was perhaps only to amuse her).
“You were absent from our household. To have you at my side for a promenade seemed quite impossible, do you not agree?”
He smiled sheepishly.
“Ah, is that what this is about? My absence?” He queried, voice going up in pitch just slightly. “Do you happen to be cross with me now, my love?”
“Cross with your absence. I woke up hoping you would be there.” She confessed, looking away from his eyes. Her eyes landed conveniently onto his cravat, a sense of pride lighting up inside her amidst her sullen temperament. She’d guessed his cravat colour right.
Benedict noticed the difference in her and he frowned gently, pulling her into his chest.
“What has happened, darling?” He murmured, kissing her head.
“I woke up unhappy.”
“Due to what happenings?”
“None, from what I have gathered.”
“Ah, so simply one of those days, then. Much like the days I sometimes have where I cannot even look at my paintings. Tomorrow shall be better, my love.” He kissed her head again, keeping her close so as to keep her warm. He had his long coat on, the one he wore on colder days.
“I know… I only wished you could have told me that as I woke, rather than hours later.”
“That cannot be helped, I’m afraid. You should take this issue to Anthony. I will help you berate him, I promise.” He chuckled. “Not now, however. I have seen enough of his visage for the day. Let us return home, so I might tend to my wife.” He smiled, playful and himself as ever, and offered her his arm so that they might safely cross the street over to the carriage he’d been in.
She was surprised, but shouldn’t have been, at the carriage still waiting for them.
“They love us,” Benedict murmured once he noticed her surprise. “Moreover, they are all good, quite people. The ones that work for us.”
She nodded back, a small smile of gratefulness.
“And, they have no choice.” He finished, giving her one of his sideways grins, the ones so very boyish in nature.
Once they had settled into their carriage and Benedict had instructed the driver, a man around his age by the name of Gwent, to drive them back home, they began their journey home, ending her impromptu walk she’d been so eager to have.
“You know,” Benedict began, whispering even though there was no need, what with the carriage’s sounds drowning out their voices for anyone else. “I do believe Gwent is quite fond of that new lady’s maid of yours. Poppy?”
She smiled softly, spirits already having lifted in his presence.
“She is very excited to be in London for the first time.”
“I see.” Benedict replied conspiratorially, eyes shining. “I shall, subtly, of course, relay this information to Gwent. And give him the rest of the day off. In case he wishes to take an impromptu promenade around London. Alone or otherwise.”
“You are a romantic, my love.” She accused him softly.
“With you at my side, what else could I be, my darling?” He replied, deftly pulling off one of her gloves so as to kiss her knuckles.
“Now, I’ve quite the busy day ahead of me.” He said solemnly, pulling her into his side.
“What? Why?” She asked, frowning already.
“I have a wife to hearten and console. A most challenging task, you see.” He teased, pressing a kiss to her temple in apology, not wishing to invoke her wrath with one of his silly jests.
“You best get to it now, husband, lest I truly become cross with you.” She threatened, her words devoid of malice.
“Mm, indeed. Once we are home, what shall we do? A spot of reading, perhaps? Poetry? Or, some painting? You could sit for me.”
“Or, we might sleep.” She suggested simply.
“Well, naturally, however I assumed that would come later, darling. But, if my wife insists, who am I to deny her? I am but a simple man.” He smiled.
“I rather meant actual sleeping, Ben.” She said knowingly, looking at him with a raised brow.
His mouth opened briefly, and then he closed it again, smiling at her (but it looked more sheepish than charming).
“Of course! That is what I meant too, obviously.”
“Obviously.” She repeated, a smile slipping onto her face before she could stop it.
“But truly,” He leaned in to whisper against her cheek, kissing it. “How do you expect me to react when I see that my wife has somehow matched the colour of her day dress to my cravat without her even having seen what I got dressed in?”
“That, simply means that we are well matched.” She replied softly, the two meeting in a soft kiss.
“And who am I to argue with the fates?” He whispered against her mouth, pressing his forehead gently to hers.
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