#benedict oneshot

[lydiimae]

Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk

A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^

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You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.

Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.

You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.

You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.

When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.

Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.

"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.

You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.

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Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.

Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.

He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.

Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.

He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.

Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.

He could get used to this.

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Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.

After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.

"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.

You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.

You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.

You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.

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He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.

"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.

She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.

The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.

He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.

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You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.

He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.

"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.

"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.

"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.

He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.

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He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.

He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.

"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.

"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.

He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.

You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.

As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.

"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.

You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.

You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.

"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.

You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.

He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.

"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.

He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.

"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.

He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.

He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.

You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.

He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.

You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.

He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.

He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.

You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.

You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

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[writtenfangirl]

Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?”

Eloise simply rolled her eyes before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #king george #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton one shot #bridgerton season 2 #bridgerton season 1 #bridgerton series #lady danbury #regency era fic #colin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #gregory bridgerton

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton oneshot

[captainsophiestark]

Bad Timing

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 25 Prompt: "Do I look like I knew that?"

Summary: When Eloise needs help with a problem, she knows she can count on her brother and his new wife for help.

Word Count: 1,047

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You know, lazy days like this are by far my favorite," I mused, curling into my husband's side as we laid in bed together. "No galas, no gossip from the Ton. Just the two of us."

"I certainly have to agree," said Benedict, my husband, as he traced patterns on the bare skin of my back. "Although, I do enjoy watching Colin wade through the swarm of Mamas every time we go out, now that he is the only unwed Bridgerton son. At least until Gregory gets a bit older."

"I'd say you were being mean, but he did ditch you and Anthony for quite a while in his travels."

"Yes, he did. So he deserves this."

I laughed, shaking my head a bit at my husband's antics. A moment later, he pulled me tighter to his side, rolling us so I laid completely on top of his chest. I rose up on my elbows to meet his eyes and found him looking at me with a mischevious smile.

"You know, it's just occurred to me," he started. "There are quite a few ways I can think of that our time would be better spent than talking about my brother."

"Oh really?" I asked, grinning and leaning down closer to Benedict. "And what might those ideas be?"

"Well for starters..."

With that, he brought his hand up to the back of my neck and pulled me into a searing kiss. I rested all my weight on him, kissing right back, until a knock at the door jarred us both out of the moment.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, and Benedict let me. We shared a look.

"Maybe whoever it is will go away if we ignore them," he whispered in suggestion. As if he'd willed it into happening, a voice from the other side of the door called out.

"Y/N! If you're in there, please, I need to talk to you."

Eloise. Benedict's little sister, who I'd become close with throughout the course of Benedict courting me. I gave Benedict an apologetic look.

"No," he whined as I rolled off of him, quickly wrapping a robe around myself and heading for the door.

"I have to," I replied. "I can't ignore her. Make yourself decent."

With that, I turned from my husband and went to open the door just wide enough to see Eloise on the other side, and for her to see me.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she cried, moving to push past me and into the room. I let her, just hoping that Benedict had done as I'd said. Eloise and I had done this a few times as we'd gotten closer, and whenever it happened, I knew she really, truly needed me.

I turned around to follow Eloise back into the room after shutting the door behind me, only to find her frozen just a few steps from where she'd come in. Benedict stood next to the bed, looking tired but resigned to our new morning activity as he laced up his shirt.

"Good morning, Eloise," he said, a little edge of teasing in his tone. "You know, I was trying to enjoy the morning with my wife-"

"Do I look like I knew that?" she cried. I fought back a laugh as I walked forward to wrap my arm around her shoulder.

"It's alright, Eloise," I said. "Benedict and I were about to get up for the morning, anyway."

Benedict shot me a look with his eyebrows almost into his hairline, and I glared right back, imploring him to go along with me. He cleared his throat.

"Right. That we were. What did you need help with, sister?"

She hesitated, so I walked around to face her, putting both of my hands on her shoulders and blocking her eyeline to Benedict. I gave her a small smile, so she'd know everything was alright, then spoke in a low voice that I knew Benedict wouldn't be able to hear.

"If this is a ladies' problem, or one you don't want your brother to know about, El, I'll throw him out of here right now and we can talk, alright? But if you're embarrassed about knocking when you did, then you truly don't need to be. We love you, and we'd both drop far more important things to help you whenever you need it."

Eloise sighed, nodding a little as she did. The bright red blush that had risen to her cheeks started to fade, and she at last met my eyes again.

"Thank you. I... suppose it wouldn't hurt to have Benedict's input as well," she said. I nodded, giving her a bright smile before turning around to face my husband.

"Put your problem-solving hat on, Benedict," I said. I started drifting for the couches by Benedict's turret window, one of my favorite features of his room. "We've got a family matter to deal with."

They both beamed at me as they started following me over to the couch. I'd considered a few of Benedict's siblings as good as family for a long time now, but it felt amazing to be able to say that and have it be completely true.

Benedict and Eloise settled into the couch on either side of me, Benedict resting his arm across my shoulders. Those kinds of casual touches would've been scandalous before we were married, but now we could do them whenever we wanted to, which also made my heart sing.

Eloise gave us both one last look with a raised eyebrow, then launched into her explanation of the problem that had brought her to our doorstep, which had something to do with a boy of virtually no social status who'd caught her attention. Benedict and I spent the rest of the morning, helping her as best we could, in the way only we could.

Although I hated that Eloise had to deal with the problems she dealt with, a small part of me sang the entire morning as Benedict and I worked together, the perfect team, to help his little sister. This was going to be the rest of our lives, with Eloise and maybe someday with children of our own, and I couldn't be happier thinking about that future with Benedict. We made the perfect team.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

#fictober23 #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton imagine #regency era #eloise bridgerton #the bridgerton family #the bridgertons #bridgerton x reader #the bridgerton siblings #husband!benedict bridgerton #theo #bridgerton netflix #bridgertons

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Seduced By Your Scent (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: Swayed by rave reviews, you purchase a perfume that endeavours to make any man fall for you. But you don’t want just any man; you want your beloved husband.

AN: Based on a perfume review I saw on twitter/from discord, and my friend got me back into Bridgerton so here we are. Potential part two to Subtle-tea but can be read as its own fic. 

Content Warnings: Reader wears a dress, is referred to as “my lady”. Suggestive language and actions, 18+ readers only, minors DNI

Masterlist // AO3

“You must try this elixir! It’s like they’ve bottled Venus and sent her to solve all marital issues!”

Not that you and Benedict needed any kind of aphrodisiac or marital advice. After your glorious wedding and the honeymoon of your dreams, you grew more enamoured with one another with each passing day. But you couldn’t help but become intrigued by your companion’s impassioned declarations.

Here was where that curiosity led you: sitting at your vanity, staring at the bejewelled and beautiful bottle – fitting of its praise and hinting at the power of the perfume it held. It cast rainbow refractions across your room as you rotated it with a scrupulous gaze. The glass stopper released with a delicate pop and you gave the opening a tentative sniff. Sparks of something musky with a hint of whimsy reached your brain. It seemed to caress your sense of smell, lull you into a foggy serenity whilst curving the corners of your mouth into a smile.

A light knock at your bedroom door did very little to pull your from this haze, and your maid stood awkwardly in the doorway as you dragged your eyes away from the bottle and over to her.

“Breakfast is ready, my lady,” The maid bobbed a curtsey.

“Thank you.” And, as she closed the door behind her exit, you gave the bottle one more look.

Well, it couldn’t hurt.

With care, you tipped the bottle then dragged the soaked stopper across one wrist. It pressed together with its partner then paired against your neck to seal the scent in.

The moment you stepped into the dining room – empty besides your beloeved husband - Benedict rose from the head of the table and drew out the chair beside him for you to sit. It was part of your routine, in your home and wherever you went, as was the smile with which he greeted you. Often it was broad and beaming, like today. Sometimes it was more subtle but with his eyes just as bright. On one or two occasions, it arrived with eyelids sunk and a hand to his forehead that pounded with consequences from the previous night’s actions, but still he smiled even though (and these were his own words) it felt like his skin was being melted from his skeleton like candle wax.

“Good morning!” He called to you while you crossed the room, his arm outstretched to clasp you close then guide you into your chair.

Continuing the routine, you kissed his cheek before sitting down, “Good morning.”

Now, this was when Benedict would push your chair in then sit beside you, ready to dine and run over your plans for the day ahead. And he started as normal. However the rate with which he pushed your chair into place was as if he was encased in jelly.

You clocked his new blank expression, “My love, are you alright?”

Instead of speaking, Benedict bent over the back of the chair and kissed your cheek. A short and slight sniff dragged up where his lips had pressed. He withdrew gradually, just a few inches, his brow was creased in thought.

“Hmm.” His jaw twisted and he clicked his tongue. Then he leant back in, this time his nose drew a tickling line down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Benedict,” You felt your face grow hot as you resisted the urge to tense when he planted a quick kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

But your mild embarrassment only warmed the scent on your skin and spread it further around you until Benedict was encased in it beside you. Just one of your thoughts was spared in thanks to the fact that you and Benedict had stipulated that you dine alone – no butlers, no maids, no interruptions unless someone was dying.

“Have you been bathing in an aphrodisiac?” Benedict mused. Without turning away from you, he dragged his chair loudly across the floor so that he could perch himself beside you. Taking your hand, he kissed your loosely closed fist and breathed deeply in before finishing his question:

“Or are you just naturally this irresistible, and you’ve been hiding from me?”

“I can’t think what’s gotten into you,” You said, your voice wobbling when Benedict raised his eyebrows at you.

“I think you know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

Melting under his sparkling stare, you weakly nodded at his plate and setting, “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Benedict didn’t look away from you, “I know what I’d rather eat.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you found yourself bordering on hysterics as Benedict’s eyes creased and he leant in close to you to titter and teem with joy.

After taking a few deep breaths, your face aching from the grin, you managed to say, “You must be drunk from the alcohol in that perfume.”

With a hand clutching at his cravat, Benedict gasped, appalled, “How dare you? Must I be drunk to show my wife some affection?”

“Nevertheless, you approve?”

“Oh yes, but only when we’re at home. Can’t let anyone else catch a whiff of this. You’ll seduce them, make them all fall in love with you, make them fall to their knees.”

“We absolutely cannot have that. Only you’re allowed to do so.”

Very suddenly, Benedict rose and kicked the seat from beneath him, pulling and pivoting you around so that you faced him. Knelt before you, you let him kiss you whilst you pet through his dark hair. His affections did not distract you from his hands tracing up your legs. The skirts of your dress caught on his wrists and exposed your sensitive skin to him.

He mumbled dreamily, “I could not agree more.” Then, with another deep inhale pressed into the side of your neck and his hands drawing down your undergarments, he drew from you the first of many delighted sighs that mingled with the lingering scent of your new perfume.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton oneshot #my writing #wc: 1k< #r: fem

[wint3r-h3art]

It’s You, It’s always Been you

Pairing: Stephen Strange x f!Reader

Summary: It’s a known fact that you are in love with Stephen Strange. It’s also a known fact that Stephen Strange is still in love with Dr. Palmer. When Stephen asked you to be his wedding date though, you’re starting to regret your decision. A confession from the doctor himself, changes everything.

Word count: 3.0K (I got carried away, oops)

Genre: angst, unrequited love, confession, overall feels!, and soft smut (of course)

A/N: There’s no major MoM spoilers, just the beginning with the wedding and all that. As much as I love Stephen being a complete daddy in MoM, I need to write me some soft smut. No beta, so if I missed anything, It’s my fault. If you enjoyed this, please please comment and reblog. It just means a lot. Please follow @wint3r-library​ and turn on post notification for fic update.

Strange was getting impatient with you.

You haven’t noticed it yet, but with all your inability to sit still during Doctor Palmer’s wedding, you were getting on his last nerve. 

Another heavy sigh fell from your lips as you sat there beside him, slouching slightly because you really wanted to shift your body. Your fingers fiddled in your laps as you were trying very hard to pay attention to the ceremony, quite unaware of the piercing gaze from the man beside you. 

It wasn’t like you were nervous about being the date to the bride’s ex or anything. You really didn’t need to be there, especially when Stephen couldn’t figure out what his feelings toward Christine were.

There was no doubt that the man looked as delectable as it can be in that suit, and there was no doubt that you would jump at his bones if the opportunity presented itself. However, you needed to stop saying yes to him all the time when you were dying on the inside.

Stephen exhaled sharply through his nose before he covered your hand with his. Warmness shot through you as you sat there. You bit the inside of his cheek. His hand was trembling slightly. You couldn’t help but turned your gaze to him.

His brow quirked but said nothing. He was completely unaware of the stinging pain you experienced every time you watched his eyes glimmer whenever his gaze fell on Dr. Palmer, of course. You wished the ceremony ended already. There was so much you could take. Sometimes you wished that Happy had never introduced you to him. 

You let out a sharp exhale once he let go of your hand and stood up. Once again, your heart felt heavy as your gaze followed his following Christine walking down the aisle with her new husband. Your heart was heavy as you looked at the man before you trying to hold it in. He was too proud to say it, but Strange was never really over her.

You couldn’t be anymore happier the moment the ceremony was over. You found yourself stationed by the bar, chugging wine and avoiding Strange as best as possible. The plan was going well so far until your date found you.

“I’m starting to think that even my own date is avoiding me,” came a voice behind you. His low baritone voice sent a slight tremor through you, sending your nerve into a frenzy. Heat flooded your cheek as your heart beat frantically against your chest. You wanted to run, perhaps you wanted to go back to your apartment. Whatever it was, you really didn’t want to deal with him right now. 

“Not avoiding you,” you mumbled before chugging the last remnant of your drink.

Stephen sighed before ordering himself a martini, his eyes were still on you though. “Your body language said otherwise.”

“You shouldn’t bring me here,” you finally looked at him. “She’ll think that you and I are together or something.”

“And that’s bad because…?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” You laughed out loud from sheer discomfort as you stared at him. You watched as the bartender set his drink down before you quickly snatched it away from Strange. He could sense your nervous energy from miles away, which made him wonder how you got to become Happy Hogan’s assistant in the first place. 

“I wasn’t.”

The firmness in his tone made your heart skip a beat. 

“She asked me if I’m happy,” he said, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, his gaze fell for the bride once more. You had to bite back your uncomfortable laugh before you looked elsewhere, trying to hide your expression. It was getting harder and harder to hide anything at all from him.

“And I told her that I am…”

“Which is a lie…” You pressed your lips together into a straight line. 

“You don’t know that. For all you know, I am quite content with what I have right now.”

“Stephen…,” you gave him a look, but his expression was unreadable. “I may not know your history with Dr. Palmer, but I do know that you are a proud man.”

“I am, and you like that,” Stephen teased, trying to hide the small smile as he watched your reaction. You didn’t disappoint him of course as you were slowly and gradually getting flustered. 

“I-Um...Oh, that’s just mean,” you shook your head before you slowly walked away from him. 

It has been a well-known fact that you have some feelings for him at one point. It was also a known fact that it was a textbook definition of one-sided love. It was one thing to tease you occasionally, but it was another thing to simply play with your heart. You know Strange was cold, but you’ve never thought that he could be this cruel.  “I know I shouldn’t say yes to this,” you mumbled to yourself. You could hear him calling out to you, but you didn’t care. Instead, you turned and headed straight out.

A familiar feminine voice called out your name, making you stop in your tracks. You could feel Stephen Strange not too far behind you. You took a deep breath before turning around and forcing a smile. It made your face hurt. It reminded you of why you have to resign from being Happy’s assistant in the first place. The acting wasn’t for you. 

“Doctor Palmer! Congratulations!” you chirped as she made her way toward you. Stephen simply put his hand in his pocket as he watched on with a martini in another hand. You frowned slightly, wondering why he decided to linger there instead of sashay away from you.

“Thank you! I appreciate that. I’m so happy that you can make it–You and Stephen—”

“Oh, I’m just here for moral support,” you quickly cut her off before she could say anything that could potentially make your relationship with Stephen Strange any more awkward. 

Doctor Palmer nodded, but a smile still remained on her face. “Yeah..um, I just want to say that I’m very happy that you and he are togeth–”

“Um, definitely not together,” you quickly cut in again. You couldn’t feel his gaze burned into your back. “Again, I’m here just for moral support, and nothing more.”

Doctor Palmer looked at you momentarily before she looked at Strange, clearly confused. “Right....Well, I hope you enjoy the party. I’ll see you two later,”  she bid you goodbye before giving Stephen a nod.

The moment she was out of your earshot, you let out another sigh of relief, but you knew damn well that Stephen wasn’t happy with your answer at all. Your gaze turned to him, but he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t start,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and headed to the hallway. “I know I’m supposed to make you look good in front of your ex and all that, but I don’t think I can lie.” You were basically rambling at this point as Stephen Strange followed you not too far behind. 

The sound of your high heels clicking against the marble floor echoed through the quiet hall as you hurried out. 

“I didn’t ask you to lie for me,” came his voice not too far behind, but you didn’t stop. Instead, you continued to walk until you both reached the elevator. 

“It kinda feels that way when you asked me to be your plus one though,…Look, whatever you are going through, I just can’t…It’s–” you stopped yourself. How would you tell him that you still have feelings for him? “It’s unfair to me.”

Stephen was standing only a few feet from you know. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

You expected a smartass comment from him, not this. You were speechless at his admission as the two of you stood there in the empty hallway. Your heart felt like it was about to burst the more you looked at him. “When Christine asked me if I was happy, I said yes…I told her that I found someone.”

You remained silent as he took a few steps forward until he was only a few inches away from you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostril, lulling you into a haze. “It took me some time to realize it, but I…”

You swallowed as he cradled your face in his hands. Heat flooded your face at the closeness between the two of you. His thumb pressed against your cheek, his gaze softened, melted into a pair of liquid sapphires. “I made up my mind.”

“About what?” You realized that your words came out no more than a breath as your hand covered his. Stephen was inching closer. Your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest at the pure anticipation alone. When his lips touched yours for the very first time, you felt like you were about to soar. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into him. He was holding you there, kissing you with a passion that you’ve never known he was capable of. His hand trailed to the nape. The rough pad of his fingers gently grazed across your skin, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. You gasped at that, and Stephen took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

Your heart pounded heavily against your chest as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tangled and clashed with yours. Twisting and rolling, leaving you both breathless and panting.  He was kissing you with desperation–a need that was new to you. You moaned at the sweetness that lingered on his tongue, and every time he let out a low, rumbling groan, you felt your panty dampen slightly.  

Stephen walked you backward until the back of your knees hit something soft. You quickly pulled away from the kiss, only to find the two of you standing right in your bedroom. “Did you just teleport us here?” It was a dumb question, but you felt the need for some air–or at least something that doesn’t involve Stephen Strange sticking his tongue down your throat.

“Yes,” he said firmly as he discarded his suit jacket and dropped it right onto the floor. He looked flushed, disheveled almost by the way strays of his neatly combed hair came undone. His fingers tugged at his tie impatiently, loosening it before he undid a few buttons at the top till he revealed his chiseled chest. The sight made your throat go dry.

 Stephen’s mouth was on you again, this time he was less discreet than before. He kissed you with urgency and hunger that set your nerve ablaze. He gently laid you down on your soft mattress while his mouth was still on yours. His lips traveled southward, and your body surrendered to him without a thought. Your head tilted to the side, revealing the tender skin of your neck to him. His lips trailed down, tongue grazed slightly here and there as if he was tasting you. A throaty moan ripped between your lips as Strange suckled on your pulse point, and gently nipped at it before licking the same spot over. His free hand slowly lowered the straps of your dress to your waist. He stared at you momentarily as if to admire a piece of art–No, you were more than a piece of art to him. You were the sun, the moon, and the universe all wrapped up into one. You were the cosmic force that keep him grounded all this time.

Stephen said nothing before he lowered his head to kiss you once more. His name fell from your lips in no more than a breathless whisper as his beard tickled your skin, making you ache and throb for him. Stephen was lost in the moment as his lips were lingering in the space between the valley of your breasts. 

You called out his name once again as your arms snaked around his head. Stephen Strange moaned deeply, sending a reverberation through you as if to assure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. He captured your taut peak in his mouth and began to suckle on it. He was sucking gently at first, then harder, gently nipping at the bud till you cried out, only to soothe you gently with his tongue.

He moved on top of you and pulled your dress all the way off your body. You laid there completely bare underneath him. Stephen’s hand moved to the juncture between your legs and let his fingers graze at your clothed slit. His nostrils flared as he let out a sharp exhale when he found that your panty was drenching.

Stephen gently rubbed you through your panty, eliciting a soft gasping noise out of you first before he ripped the flimsy fabric away from you. His mouth moved to your breast once more, tongue flickering over the sensitive bud, while his dexterous fingers gently pry you open. Your first instinct was to close your legs, but Stephen wasn’t having it. He pressed his knees wide, forcing you to open to him. 

Your head fell back against the soft mattress when you felt that he was knuckle deep inside you as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you with ease. A shaky moan slipped out of your lips as he pulled his digits back and pushed them inside you again while his mouth was still occupied by your tit.

You begged him almost pathetically, your hand bunched at his hair when he pressed his thumb against your clit. 

“Say my name again, baby,” he murmured. The low baritone voice made your pussy throb and clenched around his fingers. Only Stephen Strange had that sort of effect on you. He was watching you now, probing himself on his elbow while the other hand continued to pump in and out of your pussy with vigor.

A smile etched upon his lips as he felt your body tense up around him. Still, he continued with a relentless pace until an orgasm ripped right out of you, causing your body to strain and spasm. Your face scrunched up as you dug your heels into the mattress as the first wave of euphoria washed over you.  

“That’s it, baby. Cum to me. Squeeze on my fingers like you want to squeeze on my cock.” Stephen growled as he pressed his forehead onto yours. Perspiration dampened it while you could only reply with a choking sob. 

Stephen finally removed his fingers from your sopping wetness as he stared at you. His lips pressed against your forehead. He kissed you tenderly before he pulled back and began to unbuckle his pants. 

You watched him with half hooded eyes as he got up from the bed and hastily removed his pants. You swallowed as you watched him stroking himself. The sight made your pussy throb once more as more slick was leaking out of you. Stephen licked his lips at that. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he admitted sheepishly as he continued to stroke his erect cock. It was hard to concentrate on his words when your brain only wanted one thing. 

“I’m on birth control…” you told him as you sat up and pulled him to you. Stephen settled between your thighs once more. His face strained, jaw clenched tightly as he rubbed the head of his cock along your slit. The action made your legs shake slightly as your eyes caught his. “It’s ok, Stephen.”

He growled at the invitation before he swiftly entered you, causing you to hissed sharply. A strangled moan left his lips as your tightness enveloped him. You could feel Strange tremble above you as he was trying to control himself from moving too erratically. Stephen pulled back then eased himself back in again till he was all the way in. His hips arched fluidly, driving himself in and out of you with fervor. You could feel his balls slapped against your ass every time he sheathed himself inside of you.

His hard body pressed against yours closely that you could feel every twitch of his muscles, coiling and bunching from the effort of his movements. Your arms wounded around his neck again as he rutted into you. His lips found your neck once more as he kissed and nipped at it. 

You were getting close again as that familiar tightness at the pit of your stomach threatened to snap. It wasn’t long now until that delicious burst of euphoria ripped through you again. It didn’t take long till you cried out and clenched around him, milking him until he too reached his own release. Still, Stephen was still chasing his own, fucking you and using you to sate his own appetite.

Stephen came not too long after, spending himself right onto your stomach. His body went limp next to you, panting and exhausted from the deed. 

The silence stretched out between the two of you. Where would you go from here? You and Stephen had yet to establish what this was? Was this a one-time deal? Were his words simply a lie or was everything simply a dream to you?

You felt him stirring beside you before his warmness left your body. Your first initial thought was that he was leaving, but that sort of negativity soon melted away when he came back with a damp towel pressed against your stomach. His movement was gentle, yet exact. Still, you could feel his trembling hand moving over your stomach.

Your eyes caught him again, and words failed you. You didn’t know what to say. 

“I suppose you are wondering what we are now?”

You nodded. You wanted to laugh because you really didn’t expect to have this type of conversation at all with him when you were both naked. 

“You’ve never told me who that someone is–the person that makes you happy.”

Stephen Strange was caught off guard for the first time in his life as he could only react with an “Oh.”

Your face warned once more as your heart drummed against your chest. A knowing smile quirked on his lips. “Well, It’s you, sweetheart. It has always been you.”

The word rolled off his tongue easily, making your stomach do a backflip. You couldn’t hide the smile anymore when he leaned and brushed his nose against your cheek, kissing you and whispering naughty things into your ears.

Perhaps, this wasn’t a dream after all.

#wint3r h3art #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #dr strange smut #doctor strange drabble #dr strange drabble #stephen strange drabble #stephen strange oneshot #doctor strange one shot #marvel mcu #benedict cumberbatch smut

[daydreamtofiction]

Malicious Compliance // Surgeon Strange x Reader

Masterlist | Request a Fic

Summary: After a brief meeting with the world renowned neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange, he plans to make you his latest conquest. He’s only interested in one thing, but that’s okay, because so are you. (female reader)

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, pre-sorcerer Strange (arrogant, cocky). Smut: no strings attached, dominance & praise, oral sex (receiving), light choking, unprotected sex (sort of?). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Just a quick lil oneshot for you all. I literally thought of this today and the whole thing poured out of me in one sitting lmao. I like it though, hope you guys do too!

His eyes are glaciers. Cold, hard, yet always moving. They flit towards the window, sunlight turning them the crispest blue, then back down to the notebook on the table in front of him. They warm slightly when he looks over to Doctor Palmer, roll languidly whenever Doctor West speaks. But in the end, they always seem to settle back on you.

He’s as hubristic as you’d expected; leant back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, taking up as much space as his body will allow. He corrects a colleague when they call him Stephen. It’s Doctor Strange, he says, voice so deep and rich it’s almost tangible. 

He watches as you press your finger to the inner corner of your eye, trying to rub away the tired itch beginning to take root there. You wonder how offended he’d be if he knew you fell asleep reading one of his published papers last night, how you woke up in your hotel room this morning with your cheek pressed to page seventeen of The Strange Palmer Method. It would make his blood boil, you think, to know his work had been used as a pillow. You resist the urge to tell him. 

Coffee burns the roof of your mouth. You wince and place the cup back down on the boardroom table, sift through the pile of papers in front of you as the room waits for you to speak again.

“Honey,” says Doctor Strange. 

“I’m sorry?” you reply. 

He points to your mouth. “It’ll help with that burn.” 

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh I didn’t- It was just a little warmer than I expected. Thanks, though.” 

The corner of his mouth curls and he turns to look down the length of the table, the flecks of silver at his temple catching in the light.

You clear your throat as you find the document you were looking for. “So, pending approval from the ABMS, we would like to roll out training for the Strange Palmer Method in all of our hospitals.”

“What about my new technique for stent placement?” asks Doctor West. 

“Oh please, Nic,” Strange scoffs. “We’re talking about actual revolutionary surgical procedures here.” 

Doctor West’s back straightens, you open your mouth to speak but he gets there first.

“Excuse me, my stent technique could drastically cut down the amount of time a patient’s brain is open on the table! Do you even realise-” 

“Mhm, why don’t you go win some awards and make national news, then maybe we can talk.” 

Doctor Palmer’s head falls into her hands as the other surgeons groan and shift uncomfortably in their seats. You’ve met your fair share of asshole surgeons in this job; travelling up and down the country stroking egos and exalting god complexes. But this man sitting across from you is, without a doubt, the victor of them all. 

“The stent technique is very interesting,” you say, easing the tension in the room. “But we would need to see the results of a study or trial of some kind before taking it any further.” 

“Very diplomatic of you,” says Strange. 

“Not diplomatic. I just know a promising procedure when I see it.”

“Hm. Are you a doctor?”

Your gaze turns to a glare. “I am.” 

“Where do you practice?”

“I don’t anymore. My job is to keep other doctors at the top of their game. Hence why I’m here right now with all of you.”

He’s almost smirking, head cocked slightly, twiddling a pen between his fingers. It’s fitting, you think, to see a surgeon take such pleasure in getting under people’s skin. 

You hate that you find him attractive. That you’ve managed to fall victim to a charm buried so deep beneath layers of pure arrogance that you have to dig to find it. If he wasn’t so beautiful on the outside, you’re almost certain you wouldn’t bother fighting to find something redeemable within. But the way your body reacts to him; the warmth, the buzzing deep in your belly, it must be there. 

The meeting finishes and you remain at the table, straightening the wad of papers in front of you and slotting them back into your binder as everyone filters out of the room. When you’re alone, you stand and walk to the large window, taking a moment to gaze out at the view. Your eyes skim New York City, admiring the blend of old and new; small stone buildings wedged between tall skyscrapers, the late afternoon sun glinting across metal and glass, pockets of green peppered amongst brick and mortar. You wish you got to come here more often. 

You pick up your briefcase and drape your jacket over your arm as you make your way out of the boardroom. The corridor is bright and quiet, but the bustling of the hospital is a low hum. You close the door behind you and begin to walk, unfazed by the sight of a figure leaning against the wall up ahead. 

His arms are folded over his broad chest, dark blue scrubs doing little for his tall, robust frame. His legs are crossed at the ankles as he rests his weight back against the wall, head stooped slightly, but his eyes are on you. 

“Doctor Strange,” you say with a polite nod as you continue past him.

He smiles, allows you to pass, but you feel him move behind you. 

“You don’t really think Doctor West’s procedure holds any merit?” he asks, catching up to walk at your side. 

“I do.” You furrow your brow. “You don’t think there’s merit in improving the efficiency of existing surgeries?” 

He shrugs. “Just not all that exciting when you compare it to what I’m doing.” 

“You mean what you and Doctor Palmer are doing…” 

There’s a chuckle deep in his throat, like he enjoys the back and forth, watching his opponents fight for their lives while to him it’s just a sparring match. He quickens his pace to slip in front of you, turning to face you and forcing you to halt in the middle of the corridor. 

“Be honest,” he says. “You’re impressed.” 

“Of course we’re impressed. Why else would the board have sent me here?” 

“No I mean you, specifically.” 

You glare up at him, hiding your amusement with an eye roll. “Yes, Doctor,” you say slowly, your words empty and biting. “I am very impressed.” 

His cupid’s bow deepens as his lips curve into a self satisfied smile, lines forming in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He knows you find him infuriating, but it only seems to encourage him. There’s a moment of silence, long enough for his gaze to trail the length of you, just once. 

“You know, I’d love to talk more with you about it,” he says, looking down at his obviously expensive watch. “Maybe over dinner. Have you eaten?” 

You draw in a deep breath through your nose, letting it out in a sigh as you begin to speak. “I don’t need your superficial attempts to woo me, Doctor.” You reach into your briefcase and pull out a pen and a business card, scrawling on the back of it and handing it to him. “This is where I’m staying. Come by around eight.” 

You’re certain he’s going to protest, pretend he actually wants to go to dinner, talk, that he was ever interested in anything that didn’t involve the removal of your clothes. You wait in suspense as his eyes flit down to the card in his hand, then back up to your face.

“I prefer to fuck in my own bed,” he says bluntly. 

A wave crashes in your stomach, rushing down into your core, the sensation so strong and unexpected that your knees almost buckle. This isn’t the first time one of your work trips has ended in you going home with a surgeon, but the way this one doesn’t try to feign the ‘nice guy’, doesn’t pretend to want anything more from you than your body, that’s new.  

“Unless I’m on vacation, of course,” he adds with a cocky smile. 

“Of course…” 

He flips the card over and plucks the pen from your hand. You watch as he scribbles on it and hands it back to you. 

“So this is where I’ll be tonight,” he says. “You said eight works for you?”  

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, unsure if you’ve ever met anyone as imperious as this. You slip the card into your pocket and move to walk past him, stopping as your shoulders brush and looking up at him. 

“I hope your dick is as inflated as your ego.”

He smirks to himself, remaining quiet as you continue to walk away. 

Your skirt is riding up your backside. You reach back to yank it down for the hundredth time before pressing the buzzer on the wall of the apartment building. The setting sun is just a glow beneath the horizon but the streets are still busy, the air warm with a pleasant breeze. You lean back to stare up at the building, the mirrored windows stretching so high you can’t see an end to them. You wonder which one is his. 

There’s a scratching sound on the intercom, followed by a deep voice. “Yeah?” 

“It’s me,” you say, glancing over your shoulders as if you’re on some kind of secret mission, scared of being seen. 

He doesn’t speak again, instead there’s a quick buzz followed by the click of the heavy front door. You let yourself inside, heels clacking against the glossy marble floor as you hurry towards the elevators. When the doors slide open, you pull out your business card, punch in the floor number he’d scrawled in the bottom corner. It begins to ascend, making your already swirling stomach turn. 

You pull down the back of your skirt again as you step out into the hall, peering down the length of it in search of his apartment. The door is tall and wide, dark timber and a heavy metallic handle. You knock but your knuckles barely make a sound, the dense wood swallowing the echo. 

Still, he comes. You regard him quietly as you step inside, the snug sweater and tailored jeans, a pair of sneakers making you feel entirely overdressed. He’s already grinning; a smug, confident smile that reignites the ire in your chest. You ignore him and walk further in, eyes wide in awe at the vast, industrial space.

You walk over to the window that stretches the length of the apartment, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, framing a perfect snapshot of the city. 

“Now I understand why you make the women come to you,” you say. 

“Hm?” 

“This place. It’s impressive.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “That’s the point, right? You like to impress. To show off.”  

He laughs quietly and makes his way to the kitchen area, opening the extensive liquor cabinet. “You want something to drink?” 

“I have rules,” you say abruptly, turning around to face him from across the echoey room.

He straightens. “Go on…” 

“Nothing that happens here can be used for any type of professional leverage, good or bad, by either of us.” 

“Of course-”

“This isn’t a date. I don’t spend the night, I don’t keep in touch, I don’t call when I’m back in town so we can do this again. This is just tonight. And it’s just sex. Understood?” 

“Understood.” He returns to the cabinet and takes out a bottle. “So, about that drink…”

You’re already gone, wandering off through a door at the rear of the apartment in search of the bedroom. 

You find it. It’s a dark, cave-like space, large curtains draped across another huge window, only the faintest glow of the sunset fighting through the fabric. It’s clinical, just as you’d expect from a surgeon; sleek furniture void of any clutter or knick knacks, exposed brick walls with the occasional piece of art - no photographs. There’s a full length mirror, a small couch, and a bed so large you could sink into it and disappear. You wonder just how many women have delved beneath those sheets before you. 

He appears in the doorway, looking you up and down. “You’re eager, little one,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, watching as he closes the door behind him and approaches you. You reach up to touch him, to kiss him, but instead he takes your wrists in his hands and lowers them back to your sides. 

“Mm, not yet.” 

You scoff in dispute, eyes following him as he strolls across the room and switches on the wall sconces, illuminating the area above the bed in a dim, warm light. 

“Look,” you say. “If you’re just going to mess with me then-”

“Well actually, after you left the hospital this afternoon, I got called to consult on a patient and ended up having to stay late. I just got home around fifteen minutes before you knocked on my door. So if you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower first. Is that alright with you?” he finishes sarcastically. 

You settle down, composing yourself and relaxing your shoulders. “Of course.” 

“Make yourself comfortable.” 

He pushes open a door to the right and you catch a glimpse of the luxurious, marbled master bathroom as he steps inside. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone again. You stand there for a moment, listening to him whistling to himself, his belt buckle unfastening and hitting the floor. Water bursts from the shower, the sound like soft static, and you immediately rush over to the mirror. 

You examine yourself carefully; fix your hair, press your nose to your skin and clothes, shift your underwear so it sits smoothly and undetectable beneath your skirt. Then you sit down at the foot of the bed, knee bouncing impatiently. You change your mind shortly after, moving to the small couch opposite the bed instead. 

Ten minutes or so pass, but it feels like an eternity. You picture him drawing it out on purpose, working the lather into his skin one section at a time, scrubbing at his hair for much longer than necessary, just to make you sweat. The water shuts off and you listen to him singing to himself, the hum of his voice through the door. When the door finally opens, steam escapes into the bedroom, the rich smell of citrus and cedar filling the air as he walks out, still humming quietly. 

You glance over at him, mouth falling open slightly to find him completely naked, your gaze falling immediately to the pronounced length hanging from his body as he pads across the room. You look away quickly, rolling your eyes and huffing with indignation. Of course he’s naked, you think, he likes to spar, and you’ve willingly stepped into the ring.

Droplets sit on his shoulders and roll down his torso as he moves around the bed. He climbs on and lays down right in the middle, hands resting behind his head, propped up slightly on the headboard. His hair is still damp, half-coiffed, the grey at his temples darker than it was before. His body is solid, the mystery beneath the scrubs now revealed to you in all its glory. His arms are thick as they flex either side of his head, divots of muscle creating shadows across his torso, cock resting proudly on his thigh as he parts his legs in wait. He’s exquisite, and you can’t help but bask in the sight. 

“So,” he says casually. “Are you just going to stay over there looking at me? Or are you going to come and sit on my face?” 

You glare at him, unamused. 

“What?” he shrugs gently. “You’re the one that said this was strictly sex. Forgive me for abiding by your rules.” 

“There’s a word for that, you know,” you reply. “Malicious compliance.”

“Mm, is it really malicious if I’m offering to eat you out?”

“Depends how good you are at it.” 

“Come here and find out.”  There’s no humour in his tone, but it’s still playful, like he’s goading you. 

You stand up and take a step towards the bed. 

“Clothes,” he demands. 

You stop, pressing your lips together tightly. His eyes never leave you, remaining locked on yours as you kick off your shoes and untuck your top from the waistband of your skirt. 

“They should study you,” you say. 

“Study me?” 

“Yeah.” You lift your top over your head and throw it to the floor, reaching down to unzip your skirt. “Look into how one singular person could possibly be such an ass.” 

“Clearly there’s a part of you that likes it, y’know, since you’re here… taking your clothes off for me.”

“What can I say? I’m partial to a surgeon. Think it’s the hands.” 

The skirt pools at your feet and you step out of it, extending your arms as if to say ‘ta da’. He smiles. 

No one has ever looked at you like this. So intense, like he’s studying every inch; relishing in every freckle and blemish, every curve and crease, mapping out the places he plans to touch, taste, explore. 

You continue towards him but he raises his palm, halting you again. “You haven’t finished,” he says. 

You glance down at yourself, then back up to him, letting out a grumbling sigh as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. It pops open, the release of pressure on your skin as soothing as a deep breath. His gaze darkens as you slide the straps off your shoulders, watching your nipples harden as you reveal your bare breasts to him. 

“These too?” you ask, hooking your thumbs into the waistline of your underwear. 

“Mhm.” 

You take them off as gracefully as you can, shimmying them over your hips and thighs and kicking them away. His cock is hardening, swelling and rising towards his stomach. Your mouth twitches with a triumphant smile, but you suppress it as you climb onto the bed, crawling up to meet him. 

You lean down and press your lips to his, feeling your skin prick, arousal kindling in your core. His mouth is smart, but it’s also divine. The feeling intensifies, spreading through your belly and pounding between your legs as you sweep your tongue into his open mouth, feel his restraint wavering as your hot breaths mingle. You let your chest press against his, the feeling of skin on skin making you burn with need. 

You bring a hand up to his face, he brings his to your throat, bracketing it gently and peeling his mouth from yours. 

“I didn’t tell you to kiss me,” he says quietly. “I told you to sit on my face.” 

You pull back a little more, making eye contact, breathless as a million comebacks shutter through your mind. But in the end you say nothing, letting out a soft huff and slowly shifting your body up the bed.

You hold the top of the extravagant headboard with both hands and swing one leg over him, straddling his shoulders as his fingers reach up behind you to the small of your back. His touch is electric, lips searing as they plant a kiss on your inner thigh. A soft whimper escapes you in a breath, as though anticipation is its own foreplay. 

He wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth. Your grip tightens on the headboard, fingernails digging into the soft, cushiony fabric as he parts his lips against your centre, sucking softly on your already throbbing clit. Your head falls back when his tongue drags up the length of your slit, moulding itself to every pucker and groove, lapping you up like he adores you, and you wonder how many women have fallen for him in these moments. 

You groan quietly, closing your eyes as you focus on the flicks and strokes of his tongue, the sucking and swirling, the hums deep in his throat and he devours you. Your clit is sensitive, making you shudder, the pleasure so intense you can barely stand it. Your body raises up instinctively, but he tightens his hold on you, spitting on your clit and returning his mouth to the place that both aches and sings, somehow at the same time. 

You gasp in response, eyelids fluttering as you swear under your breath. He releases one of your thighs and you glance over your shoulder to see his hand wrapping around his cock. He begins to stroke it forcefully, working himself to the rhythm of his mouth, and you almost fall to pieces. 

“Oh my god,” you moan, slumping forward and pressing your forehead to the headboard. 

Your thighs clamp around his head, but it only spurs him on, making him bury his face deeper, and you can’t remember the last time he came up for air.

“I can’t,” you whisper. 

The nerves in your clit are screaming, dancing on the precipice between pain and pleasure. He continues to lap at your centre, pushing you to the edge until you’re clinging on for dear life. Pressure swells in your core, flooding you with a tingling heat that softens your bones and turns you to liquid. Until finally you’re there, falling, melting. 

He growls as your body begins to shake, working his tongue over you one last time before releasing you from his grasp. You collapse next to him, sliding down the pillows until you’re lying at his side. You’re breathless, chest rising and falling heavily as you stare up at the ceiling. 

He rolls onto his side to face you. “You’re quiet when you come,” he says, placing a kiss into the crook of your neck, another at the dip of your collarbone.  

“I’ve spent the past two years practically living in hotel rooms,” you reply. “I’ve learned to be inconspicuous.” 

“Hm.” He props himself up on his forearm and leans over you, his other hand trailing softly down the side of your body. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.” 

Before you can reply, he’s kissing you. His mouth is slick, it tastes of you. Your body is spent, limbs heavy, yet still you find it responding to his touch. He shifts further onto you, spreading your legs with his hands and settling himself between them. You can feel his cock nudging your centre as he rocks his hips, sliding along the soaking wet mess he left there and brushing his head over your clit. It’s sensitive, raw, makes you gasp. But he swallows the sound with a heady kiss.

He’s big. Thick. Hard. Maybe that’s where he stores his arrogance. He continues to tease you, soaking himself in the mix of spit and slick as he wraps his hands around your neck, kisses you so deeply you can feel him drawing a moan from your throat.

He pulls away and looks down at you for a moment. “Condom?” he asks casually.

You’re on the pill. Have been since you were seventeen. But still, you know you should say yes. Yesterday, this man was a stranger; a face you only knew from TV and the medical articles you’d read.

“No.” You shake your head and reach down, gripping his cock and directing it into you.

He chuckles, the sound deep and low. “What a good girl.” 

You sigh as he teases at your entrance, pushing the head of his cock in and out but never breaking all the way through. 

“Were you thinking about this today in the meeting?” he taunts softly. 

You groan and buck your hips, desperate for him to take you. 

He eases back slightly and tuts. “I saw you squirming in your seat. How hot and flustered you got when I looked at you. Tell me how much you wanted this.” 

“What I wanted,” you begin quietly. “Was to wring your neck.” 

The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Really…” 

“Really.” 

He squeezes his fingers gently around your throat and you exhale softly. The desire is almost painful, your core throbbing, pussy aching. 

“Funny how things work out,” he says. 

You let out a stifled moan as he sinks into you, filling you so completely you’re certain you can’t take it.

“That’s it,” he mutters as he looks down, watching his cock disappear all the way to the hilt. 

You whimper and tighten around him. He sucks the air in through his teeth, returning his gaze to your eyes with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m gonna need you to not do that,” he says. “You’ll have me finishing in seconds.” 

“Are you telling me the great Doctor Stephen Strange lacks self discipline?” You contract your walls again, this time on purpose.

He bows, forehead resting on your chest, and growls deep in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, without warning, he draws his hips back and buries himself in you again. You gasp, fingers digging into the blades of his shoulders as he repeats his thrusts, building to a firm, steady rhythm. 

A small cry escapes you; a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. He hums in response, keeping you pinned to the bed with his hands around your neck as he snaps his hips, punishing you from the inside out. 

“Wrap those legs around my back,” he demands. 

You do as you’re told, locking your ankles and gasping as he sinks further, the head of his cock kissing the deepest parts of you and sending jolts of pure electricity through your stomach. 

“You’re going to break me,” you whisper.

“Not this time. Maybe later,” he replies, still so arrogant it makes you want to reach up and slap him. 

But your hands are stuck to his back, nails digging into the smooth, taut flesh. Another unfamiliar sound falls from your lips, somewhere between a grunt and a hum. He likes it, you can tell in the way he closes his eyes to compose himself.

“Jesus,” he hisses.

His movements begin to stutter and he rests his forehead against yours. You feel his cock throbbing, your pussy growing wetter until it’s dripping. He lets out a long, satisfied groan and begins to slow down, every rock of his hips like the promise of another climax. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper desperately. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but still he obliges; continuing to stroke into you as you squirm beneath him.

“Oh god,” you groan. “Harder. I need- harder.” 

He grunts, screwing his eyes shut tightly, and begins pounding his cock into you with such force you can feel your body shifting up the mattress. You know he already came, you know how sensitive he must be. But somehow, knowing that makes this all the more delicious.

The electricity builds again, every thrust like a lightning strike through your core. Your legs begin to shake and you finally let go, giving in to the current and letting it course through you. Your orgasm is intense, sharp and tingly, making you shudder, body stiffening until it passes. 

He slows to a stop, resting his full weight on top of you. You welcome the pressure, like a weighted blanket; warm and grounding, soothing the ache beginning to settle in your limbs. 

After a few moments, he slides out of you carefully, rolling over to lie at your side. “You want that drink now?” he asks. 

Hair sticks to your forehead with sweat, you brush it back, sucking in deep breaths as you stare up at the ceiling. “No, I’m good.” 

Silence envelops you, neither one of you speaking again until your hearts stop thumping. 

“So… I guess this means you’re going to approve the training for my method,” he says. 

You turn your head, glaring at him in stunned silence. 

“I’m kidding,” he says with a smile, greatly amusing himself. 

“God, surgeons are assholes,” you mutter.

#doctor strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange smut #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange #surgeon strange #benedict cumberbatch #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #smut writing #lemon #Doctor strange oneshot

[jjmaybankxx]

Anthony Bridgerton with prompts 34, 39, 41, 43, 45 and 48

Benedict Bridgerton with prompts 1, 11, 3, 40, 41 and 43

Thank you so much!!

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

warning: just cute fluff

summary: you and benedict have been friends since childhood and you tell benedict your parents want you get married this season

prompt 1 : I think I love you

You arrive at the Bridgeton's at step down for the carriage thanking the person who helped you. You first got lead to the drawing room but no one was in there so you snook your way to Benedict's art room.

You knock on his door and hear benedict say "come in". Walking into his art room you see him painting on his canvas.

"Hello Benedict" he looks up and smiles and you don't miss how he quickly checks you out"Y/n I didn't expect to see you today"

"Really? I usually see you most days" you reply, you walk over to the couch and sit down. "what are you working on can I see?"

"uhh I-I" he stammers "you can never see an artist work till it is finished" he replys.

You raise an eyebrow being confused ad he usually shows you his unfished work but decide not to push the subject.

"well I have some news" Benedict takes a sip of his tea "my parents want me to attend this season and find a suitable man to marry"

Benedict spits his tea all over his painting and your eyes widen and you stand up "Benedict your painting".

He looks up at you "w-what did you say, your getting married?" You can't help but laugh.

Once you calm your self down you look back at Benedict "No well yes but not right now first I have to find a good man " "But why"

"Well my older sister god marries last season so luckily I don't need to marry anyone with a high rank but they want to be taken care of" You say.

Benedict walks over to you " I will not let you marry anyone" He says sternly" Your taken back by what he says.

"Why not!"

He wraps his arm around your waist and you gasp "Benid-" "I think I love you" Benedict says.

"I think I have loved you since we were children"

You look into his eyes and your own soften "are you sure because i think does not make you sound sure"

He grips you tighter "I am sure and I 100 percent want to marry you tonight just so I can kiss you"

He starts to get down on one knee but you catch him and make him stand up.

Benedict smiles once you he sees you laughing "Benedict you know i will say yes if you ask me to marry you right now but hoe about we do it in front of your family , we don't want to get caught being alone and cause a scandal"

"We will do it tomorrow then my love" You have already been improper so you decide one more time wont harm and you places your arms around Benedict's neck and hug him tight

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton images #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fluff

[erule]

Fake marriage, real feelings | s.s.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem!Avenger!reader

Summary: you and Stephen have to pretend to be married for a mission, but what can happen if you find out that you have real feelings for each other?

Warnings: fake dating trope, fluff, romantic, mutual pining, language, Tony is alive and being a bit of an asshole in this story (but I love him!), Multiverse is real, Christine got married (so kinda spoilers from the MOM trailer I guess), all the Avengers are alive and well here, reader is a ball of sunshine, but also spoilers from Multiverse of Madness!!, the reader feels like she’s not enough but SHE IS, angst

Word count: more than 3.5K

A/N: hi! I watched MOM some days ago and I wanted to express my love for Stephen with a fluffy fic. I even cried while I was writing this one! Hope you like it. Enjoy! x

Tags: thanks to @loverocksin for the input!

“This is not gonna happen”.

“Oh, yes”.

“Who decided that Stark is the boss, now?”

“Are you worried, Stephen?”

“It’s Doctor Strange, to you”.

“I hope that you don’t use that tone with Y/N or somebody’s gonna sleep on the couch, tonight”.

“You’re no fun, Stark”.

“But you’re gonna follow my orders anyway”.

“What’s happening?” You asked, entering into the room with a ball full of chips in your hands.

“Y/N won’t agree to this madness, she’s smart enough to know that we can do this in another way,” Stephen said, while giving you a smile that looked more like a grin to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Is this about bees? I hate bees”.

“No, it’s not about bees, Y/N,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

“Are you watching Bridgerton again?” Nat asked.

“Yeah… No!” You exclaimed and she laughed.

“This is a work meeting!” Tony stated. “Y/N, I don’t care if you don’t like Doctor Strange here…”

“Who told you? I like him!” “You do?” Stephen asked, surprised.

“Nobody does, she’s lying because she’s too kind. Anyway, you two are gonna stick to my plan, since I’m in charge while Steve’s gone on a mission and my plan involves around a married couple, who’s gonna pretend to be very rich in order to catch a stupid villain during a stupid trip in a fancy hawaiian hotel,” Tony explained.

“Oh, cute! Who’s gonna play the couple?” You asked, while eating some chips. Strange closed his eyes, shaking his head: you were too naive, sometimes.

Tony smiled at you with evilness.

“You and Stephen. Congratulations, my dear: you just became a bride”.

***

When you thought about the day of your marriage, you’ve always pictured yourself with a normal guy. Being an Avenger was stressful, but being in a relationship with another superhero? Absolutely not. You grew up with Notting Hill and Pretty Woman, with The Holiday and How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, The Wedding Date, 10 Things I Hate About You… you wanted some romance, not a monster to fight at your wedding. You would have had a fabulous ceremony on the beach, surrounded by your friends, family and the Avengers and that was everything to you. Even if you loved your work, you didn’t want to be involved too much in it. You didn’t have superpowers, you just had a brilliant mind and you were trained enough to be one of them. It was enough to you. But now? Now you had to be married with one of them, to pretend that you were in love with one of them and you didn’t even get to celebrate a fake wedding. It was your worst nightmare.

You were thinking about that, when you were in your room, the night before you were supposed to leave with Stephen. At least, he was good-looking in your opinion and nice enough to pretend you actually loved him. You never got to be closer to him, because he was always in another place, but he seemed a polite man and that alone gave him several scores.

Your luggage was ready. You sat on the edge of the bed, caressing your hands. You noticed that Stephen had scars on his ones, but you couldn’t touch them anytime you wanted. Sometimes you just wanted to give him some relief, because he always seemed somebody who was suffering inside. Probably he thought that people didn’t see it, but you paid attention. It’s weird how looking at him without Stephen knowing that could have been useful now. But why were you looking at him in the first place?

Somebody knocked at the door. You got up from the bed and you opened it. Stephen gave you a smile, his hands behind his back so you couldn’t see them. He was still wearing his costume, but without the cape, while you were already in your pijamas.

“Good evening, Y/N. I have something urgent to tell you”.

“You could have used a Portal,” you said.

“I find it innapropriate to use magic when it’s not totally required to. Also, I didn’t want to intrude, since that’s your room and it’s almost midnight”.

You blushed.

“Oh, right. What’s up?”

“Do you mind?” He asked you, while pointing at the bed and you moved to let him enter in the room. He sat on the bed and you did the same, after you closed the door. “I figured that maybe it would have been useful to get to know each other better, since we’re gonna pretend to be married. Doctor Banner is gonna give us the rings tomorrow, but you and I know that we can’t fake a relationship just with some clothes and jewelry. Do you agree?” He asked you and you nodded. “Good. I also think that we should create our own fake scenario: how did we meet? When did we get married? Why do you love me?”

“Why is it just about you?” You questioned, confused.

He moved his eyes from yours, looking at his hands.

“Because it’s hard to love somebody like me. Christine did and look at her now: married to someone else,” he replied, a sad smile on his face. You heart ached for him. “While you, on the other hand, are the sun. It’s impossible not to find you attractive as a person”.

“People would disagree with you,” you joked.

“Well, it’s their loss,” he said with a smile and for a tiny moment, you thought that maybe, in another universe, you would have fallen in love with Stephen Strange. But not in this one.

“Tell me everything about you, Doctor Strange”.

“Oh, if we’re gonna play this in a good way, you should begin to call me Stephen,” he winked at you.

You smirked at him.

“This is gonna become very interesting, Stephen”.

***

Your first thought was: this is not gonna end well. Your second one, though, was: the bathrobe is so soft! Then Stephen caught you while you were trying it and you gasped. So, after a shower, you went out with Stephen for a walk, in order to study the last details about your plan. He held your hand immediately, making your entire skin get on fire, while his ring was perfectly dancing around his finger.

“Why did you do that?”

“We have to pretend to be married in public too, Y/N. I take this missione very seriously, even if Stark made it sound like a dumb game. It’s not a game to me,” he answered.

“We’re on the same page, Stephen”.

“You called me Stephen without feeling embarrassed. It’s a huge step,” he joked. You rolled your eyes, but inside your stomach you felt butterflies. “Anyway, let’s settle this once and for all: I don’t like ice-cream. We didn’t have ice-cream a tour wedding, I forbade it”.

“This is unacceptable. I’m gonna make you change your mind, I wrote it in my vows,” you said.

“This is so stupid,” he replied, but he was keeping a laugh.

“Ice-cream is important to me”.

“Okay, fine. Second question: why do you love me?” He asked and you stopped walking. How could you make up an explanation for a relevant matter like that one? He caressed your thumb, giving you the strength to talk. He didn’t say a word, he just waited for you to talk.

Then, you realized: he was waiting for you without pressuring you to say anything. He was looking at you, serious, while everybody was passing by. You didn’t even notice that he brought you under a porch, so the sun couldn’t burn your skin. He was also protecting you from the other people, because he now had his other arm placed around your back.

“It’s in the little things. If I could, I would caress your hands, because I know that it hurts even if you can’t feel any pain now. You do the same with me, when you make me laugh in times in which I’m nervous. Invisible pain is still pain, isn’t it? But it made you kinder, even if you try to cover it as much as possible under your armor. And you’re cute when you don’t realize things, because it takes you by surprise, since you always know everything, but you didn’t know that I liked you. Is it enough?” You asked, with a brief smile.

He was mesmerized by you. His gaze was now softer and profound: he finally realized that you cared about him.

“Yes”.  

After that, you were wearing your beautiful dress, your earphone to listen to Tony from the Avenger’s Tower and your shiny ring. It still seemed weird to do that, but you were gonna get used to it. It should have lasted just a few days, you could do it. At least, this is what you were constantly telling yourself.

“Hey, we’re late to the party, Y/N,” Stephen said, while entering into the room.

“You didn’t knock! How did you know that I was ready? You probably are Sherlock Holmes in another universe…”

“You literally just texted me that you were,” he said, showing you his phone. You were so nervous, you even forgot about that. “But yeah, I probably am. I’d be very smart and full of curls”.

“Why the curls?”

“Mind your own business. Let’s go,” he said, while taking your hand. That’s when you noticed: the scars. It was like you could see his bones upon his skin. He wasn’t wearing his watch and you wondered why. Maybe because he wanted to forget about the pain that his last relationship caused him. His gaze caught yours, so he adjusted his sleeve. You asked yourself if he was ashamed of his scars or if he didn’t want you to acknowledge the lack of the watch. You would have never known.

The party was hosted by the villain that Tony wanted to arrest. He was a rich guy that sold fake artifacts at charity auctions for the rich. You and Strange were known to be a power couple in every aspect, so you were perfect for the mission. You just had to become friends with him, pretending that you wanted to enter in his small circle of scammers along with your husband. Then, you would have arrested him.

“Okay guys, the show has just begun! Do you remember that you have to approach that guy on your left?” Tony asked and you turned to look at him. You nodded, then you remembered that he couldn’t see you, so you said: “Yes. Stephen and I studied everything on the plane”.

“You get to call him Stephen, now?” Tony asked with a grin.

“Shut up, Stark. We have to work,” Stephen said.

“Go get them, tigers”.

You approached that guy, the best friend of the super villain. His name was Matt and he seemed friendly, while he was talking with some other guests. You instantly grabbed Stephen’s hand, who was surprised by that and went to greet him.

“Matt! Hey, Matt! How are you, my dear?” You asked him, as if you were long time friends. He looked at you, then he recognized Strange and then he waved at the two of you, leaving the others. There were two bodyguards with him.

“Y/N! Doctor Strange! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person! When I saw your name on the list, I couldn’t believe how much lucky I was!” He exclaimed and you bit your tongue not to tell him how fake he sounded.

“I can only imagine. We recently got married, so we thought to attend this party to celebrate our honeymoon,” you said and Stephen nodded. He seemed quite shy, his hands was even squeezing yours. Perhaps he was nervous. You knew how he must have felt, so you tried to take control of the situation as your favourite characters in the rom-coms did.

“Of course! Do you mind if you ask how the two of you met?”

You began to answer to the question, but Stephen, as if that was the only answer he knew, replied to him first: “Stark introduced us during some dinner. I asked for her number, then we had several dates and in the end, we got together”.

“Oh, lovely! And what’s your job, Y/N?”

You went pale. You focused so much on every tiny detail of your fake relationship, that you forgot to think about that. He had to think that you weren’t an Avenger, so you couldn’t tell him the truth. You stayed quiet for too much time, because he furrowed his eyebrows.

“She’s a nurse, actually. Do you remember Christine, from my hospital? She’s her colleague,” Stephen said with a smile and he seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Probably you were too blinded by your love for Christine to notice her, right?” He laughed and Strange pretended to find that joke funny, but you didn’t. Because what if it was true? “I wish you a beautiful evening, my friends”.

“Thank you,” Stephen said, then he left your hand and looked at him with disgust in his eyes. You remained quiet and he noticed that, so he took a look at you. “Y/N?”

“I need some air,” you said, then you walked away from there.

You ran to the balcony, placing your hands on the railing. You breathed out, closing your eyes. The warmth that you had felt in your chest when he had squeezed your hand, as if he wanted to protect you somehow… It was too much. You looked at the sky without stars, thinking that everything was easier in the rom-coms: the main characters always got together, he wasn’t in love with his ex, she was awesome, while you were incredibly normal. Maybe you had always pictured yourself with a powerless guy, because you didn’t think you could get a superhero. You weren’t enough for a powerful being like Strange, a handsome doctor, a smart man. You knew why he got your attention all along, you could understand that now. You already liked him, before that stupid mission. He wasn’t arrogant as Tony, reckless as Steve or mischievous as Loki, but gentle, intelligent and sweet. Tormented also, but that pain only made him kinder.

“Y/N, it’s almost time,” Stephen said, behind your back. “We worked pretty well together, he didn’t understand what’s going on. We should have been more careful, but…”  

“Why did you have to bring her into this?” You asked, while turning around. Your eyes were shining under the silver light of the moon.

Stephen shaked his head, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know your opinion about me, Stephen”.

“No, you don’t”.

“Yeah, I know. It’s the same opinion that everyone else has. You think that I’m naive and silly, but I’m not. I notice things. You’re not the only one who can tell somebody’s disease by watching their aspect, I can do that too”.

“Y/N, trust me, you don’t wanna go down that path,” he said, with a hand in front of himself, as if he wanted to prevent you to fire a bullet at him, but you were armless.

“I know that you wore that watch for years. I know that you miss your job. I know that you miss Christine,” you began to say. He put his hands over his head, closing his eyes, nervous, almost angry. “And I know that you’re ashamed of your scars”.

“Enough, Y/N”.

“You’re not here, Stephen. Even if you say so, you’re always somewhere else. Even when you were squeezing my hand, you were probably in that church, while Christine was marrying another guy. Is it why you were always in another universe on a mission and not at the compound? You were looking for a universe in which the two of you are together? Or were you just trying to avoid thinking about her?”

“I was trying to avoid thinking about you, actually!”

You froze.

“What?” You whispered.

“No, no, this is not happening… not here, not in this moment. This is why I didn’t want to do this and Stark fucking knew it! He shouted. Some people turned around in order to see why the two of you were having a fight.

“Stephen, they’re looking at us…” You said, scared that they could understand what was going on.

“No, we have to talk about this,” he said, then he walked over you, held your hand and summoned a Portal.

“Y/N, the mission!” Tony exclaimed.

“Too late, Stark,” Stephen said, then he took you with him into the Portal.

“I think that I could easily beat you at pool, Strange,” Tony said, while watching Stephen and Steve playing the game.

“There’s not a universe in which you can beat me at something, Stark, I checked. Twice”.

“Asshole”.

“Come on guys, let’s play this in a nice way,” Steve said, chuckling.

“Why don’t usually do this. Why are you not in your lab, Stark?” Stephen asked.

“Because Y/N wanted to help me, but she blew it up in the attempt, so now it’s unavailable,” he answered.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sure that she apologized, though,” Stephen said.

“Sure, but I didn’t really forgive her in that moment, so now Pepper says that I have to apologize to her. Can you believe it?”

“She just tried to give you a hand, Tony, don’t be harsh with her. She always tries to help everybody, Y/N doesn’t deserve this,” Steve replied.

“Okay, but why is she always so incredibly kind?”

“Maybe because people weren’t with her,” Stephen said and Tony remained quiet. “But I will say that she’s too naive, sometimes”.

“Thank you, Stephen”.

“It’s still Doctor Strange, to you”.

“Whatever”.

You almost threw up, when you arrived. You were in a field of flowers in another universe, because the sky was pink and the flowers were little moons. Stephen grabbed again your hand, when you tried to escape from him. You didn’t want to believe to another lie of his.

“This is the only universe in which we’re not together, you know? Ironic, since the sky’s pink. You’d think it’s a universe based on your lovely rom-coms, but it’s not. And do you know why we’re not together?” He asked and you shaked your head. “Because you die, here. I can’t save you. I’m a single father of two kids, but I have no wife. The only thing that divides us is death”.

You dried a tear with your free thumb, swallowing.

“I heard you”. You said and he looked at you with genuine curiosity on his face. “When you said that I’m naive”.

“Y/N…”

“I wonder why you should marry somebody like me in every universe”.

“Why do you always have to assume that people see the worst in you? I didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, it’s just that people can take advantage of you when you’re like that, but I don’t see it as a flaw in your person. On the contrary, I’m glad that you’re kind and generous and selfless, unlike many people I know,” he said. “And as for Christine, I mentioned her just because it was the first thing that came into my mind, the easiest job to keep us covered. I didn’t think about her until that moment, because I was with you. That’s why I didn’t wear the watch”.

“But your sleeve…”

“My sleeve!” He exclaimed, sarcasm running through his veins. “I was just adjusting my suit, because I was by the side of a beautiful woman with a beautiful dress”. He explained and you felt incredibly stupid. “You say that you notice things, but you didn’t even realize that I was looking at you the entire time we were in that room. Did you catch that?” He asked and you shaked your head. “No. I figured”.

“But when did you start to like me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When… Time isn’t a concept that belongs to love, Y/N. You wake up one day and you just know it. I knew it when you caressed my hand after I told you that Christine was getting married to somebody else. You didn’t even look at the scars…” He said and his voice cracked for a moment. You had tears in your eyes, by now. You had thought all along that you were the only one to observe things, but turned out that he had noticed you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeated, while hugging him.

“It’s okay,” he said, while rubbing your back.

“I love you,” you said. Then you took his cheeks into your hands, while looking straight into his surprised eyes. “Until my last dying breath”.

He gave you a tender smile.

“I love you in every universe,” he said, before he could kiss you.

So, in the end, you finally had your rom-com moment.

When the two of you came back into your universe, you found out that Tony and the others had arrested the guy. Tony didn’t want to explain how, but you knew that he had sent Steve to do so, it was his secret mission, while Tony had invented all of that to make you and Stephen end up together. That was his way to apologize to you. And well, let’s say that you accepted his excuses.

When they saw you and Stephen coming back from the other universe, they already seemed to know what had happened between the two of you: turned out that the marriage could have been fake, but the feelings were real. He asked to marry you by the end of the year and you could organize your beach wedding with him and the Avengers.

For once, you could have just said that you were happy.

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #multiverse of madness spoilers #multiverse of madness #benedict cumberbatch x reader #erule's masterlist #strange x reader #stephen strange oneshot #doctor strange oneshot #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x you #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #doctor strange fluff #stephen strange fluff #doctor strange drabble #stephen strange drabble

[lydiimae]

Jealousy

A.N: OMG I am finally starting this blog. I am so so excited. This is a Benedict Bridgerton fic ofc. The true loml. I'm still debating if I will write only Bridgerton orrrrrr others? I dunno... but for now, here is a lovely, smutty, cutie, Ben fic hehe <3

Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, drinking, dirty talk, heavy praise, talk of public heavy petting ;)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Minors DNI!! 18+

He sighs from beside Eloise, shifting on the picnic blanket for what has to be the millionth time. "Brother, you worry too much about that woman." She mutters with an amused glint in her eye, taking a bite of one of the strawberry tarts the family maids had made for the occasion.

A family picnic was not a rarity during the social season, especially for the Bridgerton's. What was a rarity is that Benedict had invited a woman along, an incredibly important woman at that. Y/N L/N, a daughter of an influential Viscount. The woman he found himself to be head over heels in love with.

"I am not worried. I am merely observing so our brother does not make a fool of himself in front of her." He replies with a huff, taking a sip from his flask before tucking it back into his pocket.

You were merely speaking with his brother. His happily married older brother. He has no reason to be jealous, really, but something in him still tugs painfully at the sight of you speaking to another man. It is only when Kate comes to steal her husband away that you scootch back over to him, a bright smile on your face.

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You move back over to Benedict and look up at his cute pouty expression, smiling at the warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

You wished to get to know his family before the inevitable happens. Marriage. You know, as well as he does, that you were both going to tie the knot as soon as it was acceptable to do so. You also know that he would scoop you up and marry you tomorrow if he had his way.

At the very first ball of the season, Lady Danbury insisted that she had someone for you to meet. Someone who enjoyed painting just as much as you did. So, she took your arm and led you away from your father to the Bridgerton family. You were confused, at first, when the already happily married Viscount, Anthony, turned to greet you. And then, as if the sea was parting, he appeared. A crooked grin on his face as he moved to see you. Benedict Bridgerton, although he is a second son, stole your heart as soon as you saw him.

From then on you waited with bated breath for every dance you would share, dreamt of him in your bedroom when you got home, and thought of nothing but him in between. You shared stolen glances at every event and even snuck off to any hidden corner or garden you could find for breathless kisses and entirely impolite words that sent your mind into a whirlwind you could not explain.

Soon enough, he started inviting you on promanades and even sooner he wished for you to dine with his family. Get to know his life outside of the stuffy ballroom, to which you found yourself falling even deeper in love than you could've ever imagined.

"You're pouting, Ben." You hum, taking a sip of your lemonade with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Indeed. Perhaps if you were not so caught up with my brother I would not have a reason to pout, hm?" He returns, moving to take another sip from his flask.

He was jealous? Of his married brother? You sigh and move your hand over his, shaking your head slightly. You hand him a glass of lemonade. If he truly is jealous, the last thing he needs is whiskey.

"If you truly wish to hear what we were talking about, I shall tell you." You return as he takes a sip of the lemonade you gave him. He moves his hand over yours, just out of sight of his family. A possessive gesture that makes your heart flutter.

"Yes, in fact, do enlighten me." He grumbles with a sigh. "His wife, Benedict. He was talking about his lovely wife, which if you have forgotten, happens to be my dear friend." You sigh, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He looks over at you, his green eyes sweeping down to your lips, then your chest, before finally looking back up. "I care not of what you were speaking about, I should like you to speak with me when it is I who invited you." He practically growls, the tone of his voice making the place between your legs heat up and dampen instantly. A feeling that only happened with him, something he had explained as both desire and arousal.

"You know that I-" You begin, but are cut off by him pulling you to your feet. The glasses of lemonade are now completely forgotten. "Mother, I should like to promenade with Lady Y/N." He fibs.

What he would really like to do is rip the skirt of your dress open, spread your legs wide, and plunge his cock so deep inside of your soaked cunt that you forget everything else. He wants to paint your insides with his seed right here, in front of the whole ton, so that every man can get a glimpse of who you truly belong to.

"Of course, dear. We shall not keep you." Violet replies with a smile before delving back into conversation with Eloise, who also looks up with a confused expression but quickly rolls her eyes and continues to speak to her mother.

You shoot him a questioning look to which he just raises an eyebrow and offers his arm. You take it and he begins to lead you away from the picnic canopies that many families have set up to dine under.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Where are we going?" You question after a moment, realizing that you are not following the path around the lake but rather the path to the carriages.

He stops and tugs you behind a tree, pushing you up against the trunk. The bark bites into the little exposed skin the back of your dress grants you and your cunt flutters when you see his expression.

Desire is different for men, he taught you. You can see it in the way his trousers tighten at the front and in the way his eyes haze over. His hands move to your waist and he bends down, pressing kisses all the way up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"Agree to marry me and I shall show you." He whispers, biting the soft flesh beneath your ear causing you to shiver and whine. He grins and licks over the tender skin, soothing the sting.

"You already know very well that I would say yes to any proposal you give me." You breathe, leaning your head back as your eyes flutter shut. His hand skates over your stomach, running up the smooth fabric of your dress until he meets your breast. He cups one and swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He pulls away, swiping the saliva off his bottom lip with his thumb before picking you up. You squeal and he chuckles, paying the driver of his carriage off before tucking you inside. He closes the door and the curtains on the window, darkness enclosing the both of you.

"Benedict." You whisper as he lays you back on the velvety bench. "Hush, my love. I shall not do anything before asking I swear it." The title makes your heart almost burst out of your chest. He dips down once more, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

You pull him back down before he gets very far, chasing one of those open-mouthed kisses he gave you at the last ball. He groans, his tongue swiping over yours. He grins over your lips at the sound that escapes, moving his hands to yours where they rest on his chest before breaking the kiss.

"Ben please." You whine, wanting him to continue so desperately. He only smiles, taking off your gloves. "You must have patience, my sweet girl. I am going to ravish you in due time." He assures, pressing soft kisses from your palm all the way up to your shoulder as he takes off his gloves as well.

He reaches your neck, to which he takes a deep breath. Taking in your scent of lavender and citrus, making him groan as it always does. "Do you remember when I taught you to ride my thigh?" He whispers, running his tongue down to your collarbone, nipping the skin.

The memory makes you flood your underwear. You remember well, how could you not? He had lead you to the garden at one of Lady Danbury's balls and sat you down on his lap on the edge of the fountain. He hiked up your skirt and led your hips back and forth until something inside of you snapped so hard you saw stars and stained his trousers. That is where he taught you about his arousal, about yours.

"Yes." You breathe, your eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands moves under your skirt. His slender fingers skating teasingly up your thigh. "Good girl." He praises. He cups your cunt without warning and you cry out, your hips canting.

"Fuck. You are absolutely drenched." He whispers, relishing in the moans he draws from your body just from keeping a hand over your cunt. "And I told you about sex, do you remember that darling?" He murmurs, watching your eyes flutter.

He slowly pushes your skirt up so he can slide off your panties. He tucks them into his pocket, smiling to himself. "Yesss." You moan as the air hits your bare sex. "You told me it happens when we get married." You whisper between whines as his hand comes back, his fingers curling into your pubic hair.

"Such a good listener. So good for me." He praises, sliding two of his fingers along your drenched slit before finding your clit with expert touch. He rubs a slow circle on your button and you moan loudly, throwing your head back. "Now, when a man has honor he waits to take a woman's innocence. But my honor disappeared when I saw you with my brother," You try and protest but he pinches your clit and you cry out before you can get so much as a whisper out.

"So I will take you now. In this damn carriage." He growls, moving his free hand to your hips to hold you down. You whine when his fingers move down. "Fuck you are perfect," He breathes. "I'm going to slide one of my fingers inside now, darling, alright?" He murmurs, the switch from possessive to sweet sending your mind reeling. So overwhelmed, so mindless Just how he likes you.

You nod tentatively, your heart rate spiking which he picks up on. He shifts so he is over you, and kisses the crown of your head. "I'll go slow, hm? Nice and slow. All you need to do is pat my arm twice and I'll stop." He assures, calming your heart. You nod and nuzzle his neck.

He slowly plunges a long finger into your weeping cunt and you whine at the invasion. "Good girl, fuck you are so tight." You gasp and writhe as he curls his finger, the feeling sending a shock straight to your clit. He slowly adds another finger and you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back.

"Ben... so good. Feels...." You cry out when his fingers curl into a spot that sends waves of pleasure through you. He grins and begins to rock his fingers, drawing heavenly noises from your soaked cunt. The carriage filled with the sound of your moans and the squelching of your pussy.

He licks a stripe up your neck, beginning to suck as he rocks his fingers. You curl a hand in his thick curls and tug, your hips desperately trying to move against the palm of his hand.

He kisses your jaw, and then your chin, before finally capturing your lips. His tongue immediately sliding past your swollen lips and tangling with yours. You moan into his mouth as his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, moving clockwise as he rocks his fingers into your body.

He breaks the kiss and pulls out his fingers, much to your dismay, before unbuttoning his trousers. "Benedict... why did you stop? It felt so very nice..." You whine, grinding on nothing to try and gain some sort of feeling.

He groans at the sight, bending down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "My harlot of a fiancee. So needy for something she does not even know the half of." He praises as he slowly frees his cock, the sight along with his filthy words making you gasp.

He pulls back and strokes himself with the help of your delicious wetness, before looking back at your sweet face. All flushed and wide-eyed. He moves his free hand to your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

"It will not fit, Benny." You whisper, suddenly frightened. His eyes soften and he moves down pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "It will, my love. We will go slow, I promise. Remember what I told you, two pats on my arm and we will stop." He hums, peppering your face with kisses which causes you to giggle and calm a bit. "Perhaps one pat for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs with a smile, pulling back. You nod.

"Good girl." He hums. He leans in and runs his length through your soaked folds drawing moans from the both of you. "Fuck. God, I love you." He grunts and you smile, draping your arms over your eyes to cover your blush. "I love you too, Benedict." You whisper back.

He slowly pushes into your body, throwing his head back at how tight your pretty pussy is. You cry out at the invasion, your hands shooting down to grasp at the edges of the carriage bench. The feeling is a strange mix of pain and something different. A tart taste on your tongue paired with a tingly feeling in your already hot womb. "Fucking hell." He groans before tucking his face in the crook of your neck, stopping halfway so you can adjust.

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck after a moment. "P-Please..... more. I need more, Benedict." You gasp after the pain subsides. God, he almost comes right there. He wants you like this all the time, mindless for his cock. Begging him to fuck you.

"Good fucking girl, Y/N." He grunts before bottoming out inside of you. You moan and toss your head back into the seat cushion and he groans at the feeling. "You feel so good, my love. So ripe, so wet. God, so very tight just for me." He praises.

He begins to move slowly, the slap of thighs meeting thighs filling the carriage. The feeling is so foreign but fuck you never want it to stop. Moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he speeds up. The noises he is drawing from your body would embarrass you if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. You wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

"Benedict." You moan and he stalls, gritting his teeth. "Never ever stop moaning my name, you vixen. God, I am a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world." He praises you as he begins to slam into you.

You grip his coat so hard you are surprised the velvety fabric hasn't torn. You cry out when his thumb finds your clit, the feeling sending you up to the clouds. "Come for me, my love." He grunts from above you with a slight slap on your thigh. That sends you over, your vision going white as you scream his name.

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and pumping himself. He releases with a groan onto your stocking-covered thigh before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he lifts his head to look at you, brushing your fallen hair out of your face. You smile, almost drunkenly, as you look at him. "That was heavenly." You whisper and he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Just wait until we are married. I cannot wait to fill you with my seed and see you plump with my child." He murmurs. resting his head back on your shoulder. Your hand absentmindedly finds his hair, running through his messy curls.

"We have to go back." You whisper to which he shakes his head. "Not yet. I paid off the driver. We have as much time to rest as we wish, dearest." He hums, his eyes closed. You grin and close yours as well, slowly dozing off with him.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

#benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #fanfic #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fic #smut #fem reader #imagine #x reader #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #fic #benedict bridgerton fic

[writtenfangirl]

Dancing

A short one this time! I just wanted to write a really fluffy piece without drama although, yes there is a very small conflict if you squint hard enough. I wanted to write another fic that made me feel good just cause life's been extra hard lately.

Although I have a ton of ideas for this one so a sequel if people really enjoy this. I briefly wondered making Y/N be Lady Whistledown and pairing her up with my favorite Bridgerton brother to see what would happen.

TW: People being mean. Gossiping mamas. Cressida Cowper mention.

The ball, as most balls tended to be as the night waned, had grown stale and boring. The dancing had ceased despite the wonderful string quartet that played their music and people had broken off to their own parties. As the guests become accustomed to the taste of alcohol, words began to flow with reckless abandon. 

“Did you hear? Viscount Dotsfield has a bastard with a scullery maid!”

“The Earl of Blackfield is said to engage in… relationships with Sir Lockling.”

“There are rumors going around that one of the Colton daughters has a French paramour whose name is Ravilli. An ambassador of sorts…”

Gossip is what fueled the ton, the very lifeblood that had men and women of varying ages coming to these balls in the first place. No one in the ton wanted to be caught unaware and one could never be too careful of the rumors that could be fabricated about you. According to Y/N’s mama, the only people who didn’t come to balls and to the gatherings hosted by members of the ton were those of them whose reputations were in ruins. You were either gossiping or you were the one being gossiped about. 

So she came and endured even if she was bored out of her mind. 

It wasn’t anything she wasn’t use to anyway. She was a woman and women were seen and not heard. Not only that, but she was a wallflower. Wallflowers were hardly seen at all.

“Lady Y/L/N.”

She knew that familiar voice, smooth and deep yet somehow still bright. If sunsets could speak, Y/N imagined they would have his voice.

“Mister Bridgerton,” Y/N said as she spun around, hiding her smile behind her bejeweled fan. “I half expected you to have taken your leave by now.”

“Under usual circumstances, I might have. But I have yet to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.” Benedict said with a crooked smile. “And my mother has always told me that dancing is one of men’s greatest assets to encourage affection.”

“There’s hardly anyone dancing,” Y/N said bashfully.

“All the better reason to do so.”

Y/N wasn’t naive. She knew Benedict was only speaking to her because his mother asked him too. She’d always rather liked Lady Bridgerton and she had a penchant for forcing her sons to dance with the wallflowers. At every ball Y/N attends, her dance card, though usually empty, always had three names: Anthony Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton. Colin Bridgerton. 

And there was no man who made he heart beat faster than Benedict Bridgerton himself. Because it was Benedict who offered to fill up all of the other spaces in her dance cards even though he didn’t have to.

All the Bridgerton brothers were kind to her but Benedict was more than that. Anthony and Colin were polite but Benedict laughed with her and conversation flowed between them like water from a fountain. And though she knew Benedict was unlikely to return her feelings, she occasionally let her delusions run wild. She often spent her days imagining what their future would look like. Would their children have his eyes or hers? Their hair would probably be different too. And their noses—

“Y/N?”

Blast! What a bloody idiot! She shouldn’t have let her mind wander like that! And now Benedict was looking at her expectantly with those luminous blue eyes and she couldn’t focus her mind to remember what it is he’d asked of her.

“Yes?” She asked, fighting to stop herself from sounding so breathy.

“Excellent,” Benedict grinned with an outstretched hand. 

The dance. She’d forgotten about the dance!

She briefly wondered if she could find a way out of it. Getting on that dance floor would shift everyone’s focus on to them and she already knew what people would say. 

“The Bridgerton charity case.”

“Of all of the young ladies, he chose her?”

“He deserves better.”

She glanced around nervously. Everyone else was too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any heed but those conversations would instantly stop the moment she and Benedict stepped on the dance floor alone. 

And she knew that if she were to reject Benedict’s advances, her mother would kill her. Though Anthony was but a Viscount, his fortune was considerable large. His father before him had managed their estate well and Anthony was known to make cunning investments that grew their already large fortune, a fortune that would also provide cushy lives for the rest of his brothers. Perhaps not the large estate of a Duke but certainly nothing to scoff at. And Y/N didn’t doubt for one second that the rest of the Bridgerton brothers weren’t as smart as Anthony was when it came to their finances. 

It’s why Y/N had constantly heard her mother’s say, “you will marry a Duke or a Bridgerton. Anything less is unacceptable.”

Luckily for Y/N, her mother wasn’t around to see her reject Benedict. 

Still, with the way Benedict looked at her, it was hard to say no. 

“Just one dance,” Y/N ceded with a sigh, slipping her gloved hand onto his. 

His smile widened considerably. “You mustn’t be nervous.”

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N huffed. “You look perfect everywhere you go.”

“Oh?”

Damn. Damn damn damn. Damn the world. Damn herself. And damn Benedict Bridgerton. 

“You think I look perfect?” He asked, cocking a brow in question. 

“U-uh, I m-mean, that is to say, I don’t—“

“You truly must calm your nerves, my lady,” Benedict said with a chuckle as he pulled her to her feet and led her to the dance floor. “I am only teasing.” 

Y/N could hear the stream of gossip stop as members of the ton watched them. There was a pregnant pause and then the chatter began once again. She couldn’t hear the full conversations but she heard enough. 

“…fat…”

“…ugly…undeserving…”

“…he is too kind…”

It made Y/N want to curl up into a ball so that the earth may open up and swallow her whole. 

“Pay them no heed,” Benedict muttered as he pulled her close, his hand resting on the small of her back as his other hand found hers. “Focus only on us. And tonight, you look beautiful.”

“Only tonight?” Y/N joked in a bid to ease the coil of tension tightening around her core. 

“Every night.” Benedict’s tone was too serious to be called teasing. 

Soon the new music started, washing away the ton’s horrible words. She could still feel their watchful eyes on her skin, felt the way they judged her. 

“Focus on me,” Benedict muttered before he began their dance by swaying them back and fort.

She let the music fill her, weaving through the muscles in her body. Their dance was a complicated one and though she wasn’t an accomplished dancer by any sense of the word, with Benedict leading it was hard to fail. 

In and out, push and pull, with complicated lifts and turns yet somehow always finding their way back to each other. It was as if their bodies were magnetized, attracted only to the other. As the music swelled, she forgot all about the gossiping ton and their prying eyes. Instead she only felt Benedict’s body heat, the hard chords of muscles hidden beneath his jacket, his hands steady around her waist. 

His gaze on her felt soft, like staring at the afterglow of of dusk. She was never much of a drinker but Benedict always had the ability to make her feel drunk, as though each of her inhibitions left her the moment his luminous blue eyes landed on her. 

When the last notes of the song echoed between them and Y/N and Benedict detached from each other to curtsy and bow at one another, the entire ballroom erupted into applause. 

A soft gasp left Y/N’s lips. She’d completely forgotten about the ton watching them with Benedict commanding all of her attention. 

She raised her head, meeting Benedict’s eyes once more. 

“You were marvelous,” Benedict muttered with a grin as he took her hand and placed a chaste kiss against it before leading her out of dance floor. The ton’s eyes had grown less hostile and more appreciative on and, for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt exhilarated. 

“I would like to call on you tomorrow, Ms. Y/L/N.” Benedict said, letting his voice be carried throughout the ballroom. His words brought on another wave of whispers. “If you would let me?”

Y/N was absolutely sure she would be the center of gossip tomorrow. Perhaps until the end of the season if Benedict’s intentions are what she thought them to be. 

To call on her would mean Benedict would like to get to know her better, to suss out if she would make a good wife or not. And with him a Bridgerton and her a lowly Y/L/N, they would make waves with the ton. She could practically feel Cressida Cowper glaring daggers at her back.

But she didn’t care about that right now. She was still riding the high of their beautiful dance. She was no great beauty, that much was true. But with Benedict, she felt beautiful. And his opinion mattered to her more than the Queen’s and the whole ton’s combined.

“Of course you may call on me, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said graciously, ignoring her fast beating heart. “I’ll have the cook prepare that raspberry marmalade you enjoy so much.”

Benedict grinned. “I am much obliged. I shall see you tomorrow. I hope you have a good evening.” He took her hand again, placing another gentle kiss on her knuckles before he straightened and walked away.

#bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #king george #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton one shot #bridgerton season 2 #bridgerton season 1 #bridgerton series #lady danbury #regency era fic

[celestialnxva]

Audacity

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Everyone in the Ton knew that Benedict was someone that did not show his irritation or anger often. However, when it came to his spouse, the Ton realized that an angry Benedict is quite a terrifying one. 

Warnings: fluff, general warning for Cressida Cowper because she irritates me, just Benedict being a loving husband, it does get kinda suggestive in the end.

benedict masterlist. | main masterlist.

To say that Benedict Bridgerton loved you was quite an understatement.

From the moment he laid eyes on you and the way you moved across the room, his eyes had opened to the enchanting world that love had to offer. With each click of your heels against the ballroom floor while you made your way towards him, your ethereal beauty and aura overwhelmed his senses and spirit. His heart throbbed painfully in chest as you danced the night away with him. He would never forget that night and how your body felt against his. If someone told him then that you would eventually become his spouse, he would’t have believed them. 

Yet you were his, and he considered himself to be the luckiest man in the entire universe.

The Bridgertons were the only family in the Ton who focused on love matches, rather than marrying for status. Granted, they didn’t have to exactly worry about their status in society or their financial security, but in every season, each Bridgerton child had found themselves their own, true love match. 

They should all feel jealous towards the family and their luck, but many members of the Ton didn’t seem to care enough to do so or simply admired the family’s fortunes. Either way, they never expressed these feelings, as it would be unwise to make enemies with a powerful family such as theirs. They may not have the highest rank in the Ton, but between their intimate connections with the Queen and Lady Whistledown’s obsession with them, it would be unwise for the Ton to cross the Bridgertons in any way. 

For those lucky souls marrying into the Bridgerton family such as yourself, it was common knowledge that the Bridgertons’ influence extended to each new family members’ reputations as well. After all, they were a lovely family and only wished for the new additions in the family to feel like they were part of their family too. Therefore, it was also an unspoken rule in the Ton not to cross their spouses too. These rules seemed to create a sense of peace between each of the families for the first few seasons with the Bridgertons, until the day you and Benedict announced your courtship and engagement to the Ton. 

All were surprised and many were shocked, as a Bridgerton had taken interest of a foreigner from another country who had only been out to this society due to Lady Danbury’s mysterious decision to sponsor them that season. Many mama’s were angry that yet another Bridgerton child had been plucked out of the marriage mart, and especially angry that it had been done by someone that had never even lived there at all. 

Despite the angry disapprovals from jealous debutantes and mama’s alike, the Queen forced them all to silence their complaints. When you were involved with a Bridgerton, it was common fact that the Queen will be watching closely of the match that blossomed beautifully in front of her eyes. In this season, the Queen had not only taken interest in you, but she sympathized with you and your journey to introducing yourself to this society. It was always difficult to be thrust into a new country without any experience in its local traditions. She of all people knew the pain and anxiety you must have felt this season. 

To make matters worse for jealous members of the Ton, you married into the family with a wedding that was personally overseen by the Queen herself. It seemed that the rest of the families’ luck dwindled down as more seasons passed by with the Bridgertons on the marriage mart, so it was only a matter of time before someone in the Ton finally snapped.

And to no one’s surprise, it was the Cowper family. 

Everyone knew that when they expressed their hatred towards someone, they made sure everyone knew about it. And with the upcoming ball hosted by Lady Danbury and the Queen, Lady Cowper and Cressida Cowper made sure that the whole Ton would know about your dirty little secret. 

———

You were almost tempted by Benedict’s offer to skip the upcoming ball hosted by Lady Danbury, as it would only occur shortly after your honeymoon. Even though you considered what he suggested, you knew that it was only right to attend. After all, you owed it to Lady Danbury for taking you under her wing and securing for you this season’s famous love match. It was only right to go.

“My darling,” you said with a sympathetic look in your eyes. Benedict had stopped kissing your neck and leaned back to stare into your eyes out of concern. Did he say something to offend you? He hoped not. He started overthinking before you leaned in to kiss his forehead tenderly. 

“We must go to the ball, love. I consider Lady Danbury to be a mother figure in my life, and I would also like for you to remember that if it were not for her sponsorship, I would have not met you,” you said lovingly. He supposed you were right. You always were. He grumbled in reluctant agreement. “Then we shall go to the ball.”

“Although,” he said before slyly wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. He leaned in until his lips were inches away from yours. “Do not think for a second that I will let you wander even an inch away from my side,” he whispered teasingly. You giggled at his antics and wrapped your own arms around his waist as well. “But my love... I was planning to wear your favorite gown that you bought for me the other day,” you whined childishly before your lips pursed into a seductive smirk.

“If you must insist on me staying close to you tomorrow night, I will do so. However,” you paused and leaned in to kiss him slowly before pulling away to shyly look up at him through your lashes. “I will make sure that when I do walk away from you, you will enjoy the sight of me doing so,” you purred before the two of you lost yourselves in each other’s loving embrace for the rest of the night.

———

Everyone at the ball felt the emotional high of being at Lady Danbury’s ball once again, as it was rare for her to host more than one ball each season. They chalked it up to her wishing for her favorite tea time confidant to come back and spend time with her after their honeymoon. That, and it was a rare ball in which the Queen had proposed to host alongside Lady Danbury. Clearly, you were a favorite of the Queen’s and nobody could ever dispute that.

As each family slowly wandered into the ballroom, Lady Danbury’s sharp eyes searched for the Bridgerton family. After a few minutes of searching and feeling a sense of defeat, she finally caught sight of the family walking in with the rowdy bickering between the siblings. She smiled excitedly and made her way to where they had stationed themselves and tapped her cane to announce her presence. The entire family whipped their heads around to look at her and when they did so, they all greeted her warmly. It was then did she finally notice yours and Benedict’s absence. She frowned.

“Where exactly are the newlyweds, Lady Bridgerton?” she asked suspiciously. She saw the other woman flash her a sheepish smile before she spoke. “They wrote to us and expressed their wishes to attend the ball. Rest assured, Lady Danbury, they are most likely making their way to where we are at this present moment.”

Lady Danbury supposed that it was a good enough reason for her to excuse.

With an approving hum, she bid her farewell and made her rounds around the room to make sure that everyone was finding everything to their satisfaction.

It had been what she felt to be an hour that had passed since that conversation when she heard from across the room the gentle lilt of your voice. She turned around towards where the voice came from and sure enough, you were standing with your in-laws, Benedict’s arm wrapped possessively around your waist. It took everything within herself to not roll her eyes at the sight as she made her way towards you.

When you saw your mother figure and sponsor, you practically launched yourself into her arms, catching the lady by surprise. Your endearing actions made your in-laws fall more in love with you. You were just as sweet as Benedict, and it was clear to them that you and Benedict were made for each other. They couldn’t wait to see what new mischief the two of you will cause when you visit them again.

After a short conversation with your family, Benedict decided to dismiss the both of you to fetch a glass of punch together. Just as he promised last night, he refused to let you wander away from his side. The family groaned, knowingly familiar with Benedict’s desire to show you off to the whole world. Not wanting to see such sickening displays of affection, the family (well, mostly Eloise and Colin) dismissed him immediately. With a chuckle, the two of you made your way across the room to talk near the refreshment table, greeting the Queen fondly with a polite bow on the way there.

It had only been but a few minutes alone with your husband before a crowd of (rather fake) debutantes cornered you both with an onslaught of shallow compliments and congratulations for your love match and marriage. You felt particularly uncomfortable, as you were still not used to the passive aggressive behavior and damaging gossip that existed in this society. From where you came from, these antics certainly existed, but they were never as consuming as it was here. When Benedict expressed to you that he wanted to settle with you in the countryside, you couldn’t have been more grateful, as you certainly did not want to associate with this society and their stifling judgements about your foreign status.

As they all spoke to you and Benedict at the same time, you noticed a particular head of blonde hair in an updo and froze in fear: Cressida Cowper was here and that could mean trouble.

In a state of panic, you gripped onto your husband’s arm tighter. When he also saw Cressida, he let out an irritated sigh and reached over to rub your arm comfortingly. It was his way of silently communicating with you that what you were about to face, you would do it with him; together as a unit. Your braced yourself for the moment Cressida finally pushed her way towards the front of the crowd with her drink in hand. Of course, she did it quite dramatically, ‘accidentally’ spilling her drink on other debutantes outfits and kicking their shins painfully to make her way through. When she finally reached to the front, she let out a sigh of relief and flashed the most sinister smile you have ever seen anyone make.

“Well, if it isn’t the Bridgertons,” she cooed before leaning back arrogantly. “The famous love match!”

You winced at her words, afraid of what she was about to say. True to your intuition, she loudly drew the attention of a crowd as she spoke.

“It was quite the love story; a story that was similar to Cinderella’s, was it not?” she sneered victoriously. You went rigid in Benedict’s arms while he was losing his usual calm demeanor. Cressida continued to explain to everyone what she was talking about to the room.

“Of course, it would be such a shame for your new husband to know about your lack of rank or blood relation to any noble family in the Ton,” she announced with a haughty laugh. She was so ugly, inside and out, and she was a terrible person to expose your background in front of everybody. You’ve had enough. You didn’t care anymore that she was part of the Ton. Nobody spoke to you that way. Nobody.

“Miss Cowper, I suggest you choose your next words wisely, or—“

“Or what?” She cut you off. “What will you do? You have no rank.” She leaned in threateningly. “I don’t have to listen to poor foreigners like you, Mx. Bridgerton,” she said and practically spat in your face.

A series of gasps echoed throughout the room. Whether it be because of Cressida’s audacity to behave so poorly in a public setting or a reaction to your status, that you would never know. But what you did know was that Cressida was an evil woman who deserved nothing but bad karma.

At the point, your husband was fuming, and it was actually visible to everyone in the room. It was a foreign sight, since everyone usually saw him to possess a light-hearted attitude and an earnest expression. With that knowledge, there was a sudden shift of energy when Benedict wrapped his arm around your waist protectively. Not only was he pissed off by Cressida’s comments about his spouse, but he was furious that she did it in front of everyone in the Ton, including the Queen herself.

Because of that, he allowed himself to break out of his gentle demeanor and throw his manners that were taught to him completely out the window. Nobody messed with his spouse. Ever.

“At least my spouse has married someone, and that certain someone comes with high status and a lack of care for their background.” Your head perked up to stare at him in shock. You have never heard him sound so angry before. Seeing him so angry compelled you to hang onto every word he spoke to Cressida with the belief that he has the ability to counter Cressida’s rude behavior and ruin her reputation in front of everyone in the room.

He tilted his head to the side and smirked, though this one was not his usual playful smirk. No, this time, it was one that sent shivers down the spine of anyone who was witnessing this confrontation. He continued to speak to her.

“How about you, Miss Cowper? I have yet to see you with any suitors, let alone be married to one!” he said in mock curiosity. He laughed dryly. “You have been in the marriage mart without any suitors for the last three seasons now, yes?” 

Her eyes widened in shock. He grinned at her reaction. “What does that say about you and your reputation? I would like for you to enlighten me on that, Miss Cowper.”

He leaned in and mimicked her mocking stance moments earlier towards you before he proceeded to insult her.

“Let me make this clear. I am a gentleman, and I was raised to respect every person I meet. But when it comes to you, I am willing to set aside my upbringing to tell you how I feel.” He practically growled his next sentence. “My family has been aware of my spouse’s background before my marriage to them, and we still accepted them with open arms. The Queen had done so as well. Do you wish to know why?”

Cressida was scared at this point and completely humiliated by the Bridgerton she least expected to lash out at her. It was always the quiet ones that held the most anger, especially if it involved the bullying of a loved one. She watched as he leaned back to stare down at her with eyes filled with the fury and wrath likened to that of gods.

“You will never compare to my spouse. With your outburst tonight, you have managed to make a fool out of yourself in front of the entire Ton and-- most importantly-- Lady Whistledown herself. If you so much as to breathe in my spouse’s direction—or in any of my family’s, I can assure you that you will regret that decision for the rest of your life.”

She gasped and angrily stared him down. “Are you threatening an innocent lady, Mr. Bridgerton? You should feel ashamed. Where are you manners—“

“You aren’t and will never be an innocent or respectable lady in my eyes, nor in anyone’s eyes, from what I can see right now. I want you out of my sight for the rest of the night and the other balls after that. Your family should tread carefully and be grateful that they will not experience the wrath of the Bridgerton family tonight. But you should know,” he paused before pulling you close to his chest.

“That we do not have to do anything to ruin your life. You have done so yourself. You have dug your own grave. Now…lie in it,” he venomously spat out at her.

When he finished his outburst, the chatter of the entire room had been replaced with a tense and heavy silence. Never have they seen Benedict so furious. If Cressida had spoken ill of you for another second after, they were sure to believe that Benedict could’ve actually done something to actually be scared for her and her family’s lives. But with his words tonight, they already knew that it was enough to humble the family that they despised the most, and that was victory enough for them, after all the toxicity they have spread throughout the Ton for many years.

As for his family, they were a bit embarrassed by his confrontation, but they were more proud of him and his public display of love and protection. The Queen must have felt the same way, as she was the first to stand up from her seat. All eyes shifted to her and waited on baited breath to hear what the Queen had to say. She looked down at Cressida from her place on the pedestal and glared at her.

“Get out of my sight,” she declared in an icy tone. The rest of the Ton gasped and started to whisper sensationally with each other. Cressida felt tears form in her eyes at the Queen’s words and tried desperately to defend herself. “Your Majesty, I—“

The Queen’s eyes flared with fury. “Are you going against my orders, child? I am your Queen and you have finally lost all of my respect. Get out of my sight.”

At this point, her mother had run to her side so she could support her daughter. Of course, she was just as irritatingly rude as her daughter. Cressida did have to get it from somewhere.

“I do not understand. Why does everyone support this pathetic, low-life peasant? They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, Your Majesty!” Lady Cowper exclaimed, turning her head to glare accusingly at your timid form.

Hell hath no fury like a mother figure witnessing her child be humiliated in front of her. “Lady Cowper, you are quite fortunate that I do not have you executed for your direct disobedience against your Queen and your questions about my decisions!” She pointed an accusing finger at the Cowpers. “Mr. Bridgerton is right. You are not to step foot into his Ton ever again. So, I will repeat for the third time of what I asked you to do.” Her finger pointed towards the large open doors.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Sight.”

The whispers of gossip became louder at the Queen’s words. At this point, nobody felt bad for the fate of the Cowpers. They finally got what they deserved. As they finally watch the accused party disappear from the ball, everyone assumed back to the lighthearted atmosphere they previously had before. The Queen made eye contact with you and flashed you an affectionate smile. She made a mental note to invite you for tea so she could comfort you. The Bridgerton family across the room had the same sentiments.

Despite everyone defending you, Cressida’s words stung and hurt more than you thought. You didn’t know why you let her words get to you, but perhaps it was because she exposed your secret unfairly to the Ton without any mercy. Finding yourself close to tears, you slipped away from Benedict’s embrace and ran off to call a carriage for yourself so you could go home.

Benedict ran after you immediately, flashing a sad expression to his family and the Queen before he went off to come find you. When he did, he saw that you were waiting outside in the cold with a shawl that covered most of your exposed skin. When he squinted his eyes more, he saw that there were tears that were falling from your eyes and that your eyes were red from crying so much. His heart broke at the sight of your insecurity about his love for you and your place in society, so he decided that he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew how much he loved you with his entire body, mind and soul.

Once you two entered the carriage, you had barely sat down before he immediately pulled you to him as much as could so you were slightly on top of him. He kissed you passionately, his hands delicately rubbing your sides up and down. You let a surprised squeak, but welcomed his passionate actions nonetheless. You always adored Benedict’s very passionate and romantic gestures because it made you feel like a deity incarnate. It was like he worshipped you with his entire being.

You became flustered at his boldness and pulled away to catch your breath. When you did so, he decided to speak while he kissed down your neck. “You are not a Cinderella, (y/n). You are my spouse and the most beautiful creature that God has ever created.”

When he heard your blissful sighs and noises from his kisses, he felt compelled to pull you closer and press your body flush against his chest. He was lucky that there was a barrier of thick clothing, or else he would’ve had his way with you at this very moment. He was that passionate to show you how much he adored you.

“You are my muse, the air I breathe, and the sun to my moon,” he murmured hotly against your flushed skin. You tried your best to quiet down your excitement as he continued to touch your body in a way that flustered you to no end. For a moment, though, he paused his kisses and guided your chin down to stare into your eyes.

“You complete me, my darling. No matter what anyone says, you are perfect for me. You transcend human concepts of perfection and class, as you are the most divine being that rivals the most beautiful of angels,” he said with so much love and adoration for you.

When he saw you tear up from his words, he didn’t hesitate to pull you into a loving embrace, happy to see you feel so comfortable and safe in his presence. You stayed silent, but your actions spoke loudly of your feelings. Each kiss you placed on his face was proud of him for standing up for you and that you were grateful for his endless devotion to you. Most importantly, the lopsided smile you gave to him was your way of letting him know that you were happy that Cressida and the rest of the Ton had tasted the fear that struck into their hearts the moment Benedict decided to confront them all about their pathetic excuses to disapprove of your relationship. After the events that occurred tonight, you knew now that your relationship in the eyes of the public had shifted. They’ve finally accepted what you and Benedict have known all along:

You were his and he was yours. Nobody, not even the Queen herself, could take that away from you both.

If there was one thing the Ton had learned from tonight, it is that Benedict was scary when he was angry. If he felt so passionately about you, then they couldn’t even imagine how you would be when someone tries to disrespect your husband in the future. With that, they realized that your marriage was more than a Cinderella story: it was a love story for the ages, and anyone who thought this wasn’t true would swiftly be reminded by you and Benedict of how wrong they were to think otherwise. They will be reminded about how messing with both of you is like messing with hell itself.

Cressida will know that for the rest of her life, especially after reading the Lady Whistledown issue that was published the next day.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton family #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict #colin bridgerton #violet bridgerton #lady danbury #queen charlotte #eloise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #cressida cowper #lady cowper #oneshot #bridgerton oneshot #writing #fanfic #lady whistledown

[captainsophiestark]

A Perfect Match

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 19 Prompt: "What if we're wrong?"

Summary: Anthony and Y/N have been dancing around each other for far too long. Benedict and Colin decide to do something about that.

Word Count: 1,726

Category: Fluff, minor angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Benedict's POV

"Colin!" I hissed, poking my head into the study where my brother sat journaling about his travels. He looked up at me like he had no idea why I could be bothering him. "Lady Y/N is here."

"Oh!"

He shot out of his seat, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. We'd only been putting together our plan to get her and my brother together for a week. How he could've forgotten was beyond me.

"Alright, she's having tea with Eloise in the drawing room. I'm going to go get her and bring her to Anthony's study," I said as Colin and I walked through the halls. "You just be ready to come give me a reason to leave once we're in there."

Colin nodded, then paused.

"Benedict? What if we're wrong? About their feelings?"

I sighed. Anthony and Y/N truly did butt heads at every opportunity as if they hated each other. But it was hard to miss the longing looks and the way one of them got distracted just by the other walking into the room. I shrugged.

"Well, I suppose if we're wrong, they'll probably kill us."

Colin gave me a look, but I completely ignored it as I marched into the drawing room.

****************

Y/N's POV

"Y/N!"

I turned from my tea and the book spread between me and Eloise at the sound of Benedict's voice, giving him a friendly smile as he entered the room.

"Hello, Benedict. Lovely to see you."

"Likewise. Actually, I was wondering if you could spare a moment to accompany me upstairs? Anthony mentioned needing to see you for something, and I told him that since I was on my way down, I'd bring you back up."

"Anthony wanted to see me?" I asked, working very hard to keep my tone neutral. Benedict nodded.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"Actually, we do mind," Eloise chimed in. "Tell Anthony he can get his own friend."

"Eloise, Mother wanted to see you as well," Benedict responded smoothly. "She's in the garden."

Eloise narrowed her eyes, and I watched the staring contest develop like a tennis match. Finally, after a few moments, Eloise gave in and stood with a sigh.

"Fine. I shall go find her. But if this is a ruse, Benedict-"

"For what purpose? You are entirely too suspiscious sister."

I hid a laugh behind my hand as Eloise glared at Benedict on her way out of the room. I truly loved the Bridgertons, and watching them interact was more entertaining than the most competitive horse race.

"Lady Y/N," said Benedict, offering his arm to me with a smile. I took it, my mind racing as Benedict and I made our way upstairs. Anthony and I had a rather unusual relationship, and although I'd never admit it, I had developed strong feelings for the Viscount over the course of knowing him. The curiosity over why he wanted to see me was eating me alive.

"Did Anthony mention what he wished to discuss?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

"No, he only asked me to hurry," Benedict responded. We reached the door, and Benedict held it open for me. "After you."

I stepped inside, feeling a bit nervous. Anthony was hard at work, scribbling away at papers on his desk, but he looked up when he saw me.

"Lady Y/N! Hello, uh..." He cleared his throat and shuffled some of the papers into a neater pile absentmindedly.

"Here she is, brother, like you asked," said Benedict as he came to stand beside me. Anthony's brow furrowed like he was confused, but Colin poked his head into the study before Anthony could say anything.

"Benedict!" said Colin. "Mother sent me, she needs to see you immediately."

Now it was my turn to be a bit confused, especially as Benedict grimaced like Colin had some something wrong. Before I could say anything, however, Benedict was moving quickly towards the door.

"Right, well, then I'd better not keep her waiting."

With that, he and Colin ducked into the hall, closing the door behind them. A moment later I heard the door lock, and then a sound like something heavy being pushed against it from the other side.

"Did they just..."

I stared in shock at the door for a few moments, whirled around to look at Anthony, then turned back to the door again. Benedict and Colin had just locked me in here, with Anthony, who looked as surprised as I did.

After a long moment of inaction, Anthony pushed back from his desk and quickly crossed the room. I watched as he tried the door and it didn't budge, then tried it again. Finally, he shoved it a bit with his shoulder as if it were stuck, and still nothing worked.

"Benedict! Colin!" he shouted through the door. No response.

"Anthony?" He whirled around to face me, eyes a little wild. "Did you actually ask Benedict to bring me up here to talk about something?"

"What? No, I haven't seen Benedict all morning."

I crossed my arms and shook my head, turning away from Anthony.

"I can't believe those two. I can't believe them."

"What are you talking about?"

I huffed an irritated sigh, then answered without turning around.

"Benedict dragged me away from tea with Eloise, telling me you'd asked to see me, right away. I don't know what on earth he and Colin were thinking, but now I'm stuck in here with you-"

I stopped abruptly, not trusting myself to continue speaking. Anthony and I butted heads plenty, but there was no denying how much I enjoyed spending time with him. Sparring with him when we disagreed and never feeling angry, just excited. Laughing as he complained about having to participate in the season but feeling jealous when one of the other girls or Mamas got their hands on him... I loved him. But I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it.

"Is it really so awful?"

Anthony's voice was thick, more vulnerable than I'd really ever heard it before. I turned around to fix him with a questioning look, and he held my eyes, although he looked ready to run at a moment's notice. Unfortunately for him, we had nowhere to go.

"Is it really so awful to be stuck in here with me?" Anthony continued when I didn't answer him. "Do you really hate me so much?"

My heart shattered in my chest, especially at the tentative sadness in his voice. My answer didn't come right away, and after a second or two of silence, Anthony turned away.

"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything-"

"Anthony no I- I'm sorry." I started crossing the room to him, but stopped halfway, thinking better of it. "I have fun giving you a hard time and arguing over silly things with you. But if I've done that to the point that you feel I truly hate you... then I'm sorry, I should never have let it go that far."

Anthony turned to face me again, a guarded expression on his face.

"So you do not hate me?"

"No. Quite the opposite, actually."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to say what I needed to say next. I trusted Benedict and Colin not to do this to me unless they had some idea that my feelings for Anthony were mutual. Hopefully, that trust wasn't misplaced, but even if it was, denying my feelings had only hurt Anthony and I both. It had to end.

"Anthony, I'm sure this will be considered entirely too forward for me to say as a lady, but... I rather think I love you. You challenge me in a way no other man ever has, and when we are aligned, our teamwork knows no equal. There may be other men who would treat me well, and there may even be other men who would respect me as a partner, but none of them would be you. You, Anthony... you are my perfect match. And if I've led you to believe I hated you, then I am truly sorry. I assure you I do not."

Anthony just stared back at me, not taking his eyes off me the entire time I spoke. He didn't respond right away after I finished, still just staring, his expression unreadable. I started to sweat and fidget, immediately regretting my words and wishing I could take them back.

"You know, Anthony, actually-"

Before I could finish the thought, Anthony rushed to close the rest of the distance between us, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me around in his arms. I yelped, but when he set me down, we both had massive smiles on our faces.

"I apologize. That was rather improper of me," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. I smiled back and leaned into him a little more.

"No more improper than my confession, or your brothers locking us in this room together."

Anthony hummed, leaning into me and pulling me close to him again, one hand tangling in my hair as he murmured into my ear.

"I feel the same, you know. I have for some time. I just never imagined that you would care for me as much as I cared for you."

I smiled, wrapping my arms tight around Anthony and holding him close. After a few seconds, we pulled apart, and although I wanted to kiss him, badly, I held back. We'd already crossed quite a few scandalous lines, after all. And now that I knew he felt the same way as I did, I didn't think I'd have to wait long for our courtship to make quite a few more things I wanted to do 'acceptable'.

"I suppose we owe your brothers a thank you for getting us to confess our feelings to each other," I said with a sigh. Anthony scoffed.

"Absolutely not. They still tricked us and physically locked us in a room. No matter how happy I am with the results, they deserve some payback."

I grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Anthony led me back over to his desk where the two of us sat shoulder to shoulder, plotting and planning the downfall of his brothers. I had no idea how long they intended to leave us in this room, but every additional minute meant more time to plan revenge.

Happily, it also meant more time with Anthony. And with any luck, the rest of my life would be filled with more time with Anthony.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

#fictober23 #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton imagine #regency era #the bridgerton family #the bridgertons #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #the bridgerton siblings #the bridgerton brothers #viscount bridgerton #viscount anthony bridgerton

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Subtle-tea (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary/Prompt: “You’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face, and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection.”  AKA. You and Benedict drink too much of Colin’s special tea and it spurs you to act upon previously hidden feelings. 

AN: Benedict is the bee’s knees, just a silly lil art guy. I got inspired and I’ve got two more Benedict fics coming out rip. But it’s just so difficult to write for Bridgerton cus you can’t write any gay stuff without it being tragic and/or a secret. Oh well, don’t expect me to write much more female reader content of my own volition/not inspired by my friends.

Content warnings: Reader uses she/her, use of Y/N and L/N, is referred to as “wife” 

Masterlist // AO3 

You had no idea what on Earth was in that tea. But you would have to ask later, because currently you felt as light as a feather and giddy as a giggle, laying on the sofa in the art studio as Benedict was launching himself between two walls, orating about his great desires to create. By far, you were experiencing the greatest emotions on the whim of your artistic associate.

“There’s just so many colours that we are privy to, and we take every single shade for granted!” He declared, his arms wide open to the heavens.

You pointed at him in an accusing manner, “Have you seen purple recently? It’s glorious! No wonder it was the colour of status in the Roman Empire, I too would want it all for myself and my friends.”

“How selfish you are, Miss L/N,” Benedict scolded, “Surely everyone should be given the chance to wear such a colour.”

His anger faded fast. As endearing as it was, it was nothing compared to that grin of his. So naturally you decided to make him smile even more with a ridiculous notion that just jumped into your woozy mind. 

“Do you know what would happen if my mother knew where I was?” You said in a loud whisper. 

Benedict pouted and nodded, riddled with pantomime guilt as he leant over, “You. Me. In a room. Alone.”

“Unchaperoned,” You said then gasped, your hands clapping against your cheeks in shock, “I would be ruined!”

Benedict mimicked your appal by dropping to his knees before you, “We would have to marry to save your reputation!”

“Imagine me, your wife!” You threw your head back as you flashed your bare left hand to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, an inhibition screamed at you to stop lingering so openly on something your sober self was set on not happening

But your heart grew gleeful as Benedict grasped your hand gently. 

“I shall imagine it!” He declared and lowered his lips, and planted a loud kiss upon your knuckle - right where the engagement and wedding bands would sit. You lowered your chin just in time to see this with your own eyes before Benedict met your gaze again, still beaming with roguish delight, “Oh what a beautiful imagining it is.”

Your legs curled up beneath you on the couch, and you fell over in hysterical giggling. You clasped your hand to your chest and cradled it like a newborn. As you lay sprawled out, Benedict popped into your field of view with his hands either side of your head, tactfully avoiding your hair. 

“Your laugh is like music! As your husband, it would be my purpose to make you sing at least once a day.”

“Then kiss me again, you silly man!” You squealed, offering your hand once more. 

Balancing on one arm, and completely unaware that this compromising position was aiding in your dizzy frenzy, Benedict kissed the same spot then turned the palm against his cheek. He held it there as he said:

“Look, it’s like you were sculpted to hold me.”

Euphoria ran riot across your body, your heart beating so fast you thought you would die from delight. 

“And you were carved to be held by me.” From your vantage point, with newly founded confidence, you tried to pull his lips down to yours, but Benedict resisted. 

“We shall not kiss ‘til we are married.”

Eyes wide, you squeezed the back of his neck to keep him close, “Is this a proposal?”

“I do not think we are in the right state of mind to make rational decisions,” and Benedict bumped his nose to yours, causing a little laughter before continuing: “But marrying you is the sanest idea I’ve had all evening.”

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict reader fanfic #benedict bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton oneshot #my writing #r: fem #wc: <1k

[wint3r-h3art]

The Doctor’s Orders | S.S

Request: I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is really shy but she likes being asked what she wants because it like a kink and doctor strange loves it and does it all the time??

Word count: 892

Warnings: PWP, fingering, praises kink, unprotected p in v sex. Male ejaculation.

A/N: Literal brain rot. Just a smut writing exercise. No beta so if i missed anything, I’m sorry. If you like this filth, please comment and reblog. I love to hear what you think of it!

A breathless gasp tore from your lips as your head fell back onto his shoulder. Electricity buzzed through your veins as your eyes fluttered shut. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as his fingers rubbed at your clit with vigor. Strange’s deep, velvety’s voice whispered sweet nothing into your ear while his other hand was occupied with your mound.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” His voice sent a shiver through you. Slick seeped out of your folds as he kept your legs spread wide with his magic. You felt so dirty and exposed, yet the desire to please him was greater.

You answered with a soft whine. 

“Hmm, not quite what I wanted to hear…Do you want more?” 

You nodded vehemently as you could feel yourself inching closer to your release. “Yes. Yes. Please. Stephen,” you mumbled as your body arched off him.

“Stephen?” Strange frowned and stopped all of his movement, leaving you high and dry. You were so close to getting that sweet release. “Sweetheart, did I give you permission to call me by my name?”

Your mouth hung agape as you cracked your eyes open. Your breath shuddered as you shook your head no. You pleaded with teary eyes as you struggled against the magical chain that kept you close to him. “I’m sorry, doctor. I didn’t mean to. Please, I’ll do anything.”

His brows quirked. “Anything?” Stephen’s hand was on your neck, grasping at it almost too carefully. His touch made your throat go dry as goosebumps pricked your skin.

“Please….let me cum.” Desperation filled your voice and Strange couldn’t ignore that. His love to fulfill your needs outweighed that.

“Hmm, I can never say no to you,” you sighed as his lips ghosted over the column of your neck. “Tell me, sweetheart. What would you like me to do to you next?” His nose brushed against your shoulder. 

“N-need you, doctor,” you moaned as you ground your ass into his growing bulge that pressed distinctively against your lower back. 

“You need to be more specific than that, darling. Do you need me on top of you? Under you, inside you, or—” His fingers pressed firmly against your bottom lip. “Do you want me inside your mouth?”

You sobbed softly as you tried to contain your desire for him. 

“Tell me what you want or I’ll stop.”

“N-No! Please don’t stop! Don’t. I just want you, doctor. Anyway, you wanted me.”

Stephen smirked against your neck before he gently nipped at your skin. “Why don’t you be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me, hmm?” 

Your legs fell down onto the mattress with a soft thud. Strange has released you and you scurried up to get into the position he had ordered you. Anticipation filled your vein as you waited for him. A shaky breath left your parted lips as you felt the head of his cock rubbing suggestively at your quaking pussy. 

You let out a low, drawn-out moan when Stephen pushed himself all the way in. 

“Oh, fuck. You’re so tight, sweetheart,” his deep, velvety voice purred into your ears as he withdrew himself all the way back before he slowly sheathed himself all the way inside you. “Look how your little pussy is swallowing my cock,” he grunted before he started to quicken his pace.

The sweet, torturous movement along with the dirty words only turn you on even more if you weren’t so dripping wet already. You winced as your hands bunched at the sheet so tightly that they began to ache. Still, his movements were relentless and slowly getting more brutal. Each thrust made you breathless as the tight coil that sat at the pit of your stomach wound tighter. 

Your legs gave out underneath you. Your face planted right onto the soft mattress. His hand grabbed at your neck as he pushed himself further and further until that coil snapped. Your body strained beneath him as your orgasm washed over you. Strange grunted at the way you squeezed his cock as he continued to fuck you hard into the mattress, milking him, inching him closer to his own release. 

His frantic movement caused the bed to skid across the hardwood floor while the headboard slammed against the wall. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, your mouth hung open. No noise came out of you for all the air has been fucked right out of you.  

You didn’t know how long you laid there as he used you to reach his own release, but Strange let out a low growl before you felt warm liquid paint your back.

Strange huffed before he collapsed beside you. His face was flushed. His salt and pepper hair was disheveled. His forehead dampened with perspiration. Silence filled the room once more, saved for the sound of your breathing. 

“You ok?” he asked in between his pantings. You nodded before you reached out to swipe his hair away. Strange quirked his brows, watching you.

“Never better,” you bit your lips. “I like it when you’re giving me an order, doctor.”

Strange’s brows quirked with interest. “Oh? Is that so? Perhaps, next time I get to tell you what I  want you to do to me,” he smirked before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I’d like that.”

#wint3r h3art #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange smut #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange smut #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #dr strange smut #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange oneshot #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange one shot #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine

[j-eryewrites]

Something You Taught Me

REQUEST PROMPT (from anonymous): Maybe a sherlock fluff where reader is sick and sherlock takes care of them? I just absolutely adore the way you write fluff :)

Thank you so much for this prompt. I love writing fluff especially when it helps me get out of a writing slump! Thank you so much for the request.

Word Count: 1. k

Warnings: Major fluff, sick-fic (mentions of symptoms, the flu, etc.), Sherlock realizes that he is in love. 

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There was one thing that was guaranteed with the winter months. One thing that Y/N terribly hated, getting sick. It seemed to be unavoidable no matter how many vitamins they took, how healthy they ate, or how much they exercised. They always seemed to get sick. Now, if it were just the common cold, then it would not be so much of a burden. However, when Y/N got sick, they were bedridden for at least two days. 

Two never-ending days where their muscles ached too much to move. Y/N often thought if they tried to move all the bones in their body would shatter…or they’d puke. One or the other. Both are horrible options. But the worst side effect of being sick was boredom. There were only so many books they could read, or hours spent on the couch binging the latest television series before the dread set in. 

It was moments like these, that Y/N began to understand why Sherlock would do the things he did: shooting guns, creating bizarre experiments, composing new songs, chasing after criminals, solving case after case, bothering John, having tea with Mrs Hudson, and plotting out new ideas to piss off his brother. 

Y/N pondered the idea of being Sherlock for one day. Oh, the things they could do and the trouble they’d get into. Soon the thought weighed on their mind just as the weight of their bones sunk into the soft mattress below them. 

Suddenly, there was a knock. A singular knock. It was loud and clear. Then came the silence. A breath was taken before the onslaught of banging began. That knock could only belong to one person and one person only: Sherlock. 

Y/N groaned. This was the worst possible time. The sweat on their burning forehead made their hair stick. They were still wearing their pyjamas from two nights ago. Feeling a twitch in the back of their throat, Y/N quickly reached for the tissues next to them, just before a thunderous sneeze ripped through the air. 

As their nostrils cleared for the 7th time that day, Y/N realized that the banging had stopped. Instead, the sound was replaced with footsteps heading toward their room. 

Sherlock opened the door with a bang. Y/N winced at the sound. The loud noise echoed in their head. Bang. Bang. BANG. BANG! 

“Christ, Sherlock. Would you be a bit quieter? I’m …” Y/N coughed. “I’m sick.” 

Sherlock’s nose twitched and his blue eyes softened. Y/N sounded as if they were talking underwater. 

“Symptoms?” Sherlock announced. 

Y/N clutched their head in pain. 

“What are your symptoms?” Sherlock whispered. He removed his jack and hung it over the back of the bed. Then he gently sat himself down on the mattress. He was at arm's length now and slowly creeping closer. 

“No, Sherlock. Stay back. I don’t want to get you sick.” Y/N whined. 

Sherlock chuckled. “Me? Sick. Never heard of such a thing.” He placed his hand on Y/N’s forehead. His hand felt like ice against their skin. Y/N sighed at the feeling. 

“High temperature, stuffy nose, and sore throat” he muttered. “What are your other symptoms?”

Y/N brushed his hand away. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” 

“Y/N.” Sherlock said sternly. 

“My whole body aches. It hurts to move. Hurts to do anything and…” Their voice grew quiet. 

“And?” Sherlock asked. He took their hands into his and rubbed small circles on them. 

“I’m bored,” Y/N mumbled. 

Sherlock smiled. His bright blue eyes glistened as if the sun was shining down on the rippling surface of the sea. He wiped away the stray hairs sticking to Y/N’s face before cupping their flushed cheek.

“I don’t think being bored is a symptom of anything,” Sherlock teased. “I think you have a bad case of the flu and I know just the thing to help.” 

He began to draw away from them, and Y/N reached out clasping his wrist. 

“You don’t have to help me. I can…”

“Take care of yourself. Yes, I know. You’ve told me. However, something I have come to learn is that it doesn’t hurt to let others help.” Sherlock sat back down on the mattress. He brought his forehead to Y/N’s and whispered, “Something you taught me. Let me take care of you.” 

Y/N tried to respond but the words got lost in their throat. Instead, they nodded. 

“Now, lay down and I’ll go get some soup.”

“Get soup?” Y/N asked quizzically. “Don’t you mean make soup?”

“No. I going to get soup. Mrs Hudson’s cooking abilities are far superior to mine. I’d rather not poison you with my cooking.” Sherlock joked. 

“Alright, hurry back,” Y/N whispered. 

Sherlock smiled and was out the door. 

Y/N’s head fell back on the pillow with a thunk. As they stared at the ceiling, they thought of Sherlock. Their cheeks flushed now, but for a different reason. Sherlock. Who knew the great consulting detective could be so compassionate? Y/N was sure John would love to hear about how kind Sherlock was being to them. However, before they could finish the thought, sleep took over. 

Soon Sherlock returned with a steaming bowl of soup. His hand was careful not to spill any of its contents. Y/N needed every ounce of the soup that they could get. He placed the soup on the bedside table turning to the Y/N. He smiled as he took notice of the slowness in Y/N’s breath. Sherlock looked around the room and pulled up a chair, sitting himself down in it. His eyes once again found the sleeping figure. Even in their sick state, Y/N was beautiful. Their lashes fluttered against their rosy cheeks. Their lips lay slightly parted with small sighs exhaling from their mouth. 

Sherlock would sit there until Y/N woke up. Sherlock was determined to sit by their side as the soup cooled. He would keep the boredom at bay. Just as Y/N did for him. Though, how could he ever be bored when they were around? Sherlock knew he’d never get bored being in Y/N's presence, carefully watching over them as they slept. 

A singular thought popped into Sherlock’s head. I’m in love. How could he ever be bored with someone he loved?

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