#Fabrice Colin

[lesparaversdemillina]

Ceux qui traversent les mondes T2 La peur de Muriel GAVILA

Explorez le deuxième tome captivant où Sofia quitte les Seelies pour le monde humain, découvrant la dualité entre utopie et dystopie. Entre réseaux sociaux, harcèlement, et amitié, le récit se complexifie. Une aventure envoûtante !

[freckledsweetpea]

friendly reminder that being a romance lead doesn't require a competition for their hand in marriage. it doesn't require droves of men to be lusting after making their friends jealous that they have you draped on their arm.

finding the ONE person that would do anything to have YOU because you're YOU is just as valid, enviable, rare, and romantic.

[found-family-tournament]

Found Family Tournament Round 1 Part 30 Group 150

Propaganda and further images under the cut

Taragang: Tara Duncan, Fabrice, Sparrow, Fafnir, Robin, Cal

Submissions are now closed!

Chloé, Alice/Alyssum, Chick & Colin:

Do you like nonsense lit ? (If you like Ionesco's and Lewis Carroll's stuff, go for it !) This book is for you. Anyway, we were talking characters. And yes, you'd find nonsense here too but also deep truths. Somehow the characters have some suprising relatable features. Those four have a special bond

Taragang:

I prefer the book series but you won't find official art for it

[birbliothecaire]

J'ai pas encore écouté je mets ça là pour ce soir. Y a Catherine Dufour dedans les enfants

[waltricia]

I genuinely love this candle symbolism.

For her, it’s been burning. For him, it’s finally igniting.

( And actually his candle is already low and a liiittttle bit lit, implying the love was always there, burning so low as to not be noticed, but surely burning nonetheless 🔥♥️ )

Edit: I let this go on long enough. I’m putting an editor’s note on it. As we should all know by now, this symbolism is what the season 3 part 1 trailer was trying to convey. In the show, Colin’s candle shot is reversed. The candle goes out. Of course this can mean different things, but I believe we can all basically agree, given the context of the scene, that he’s recognizing his time is running out. His hope of being with Penelope is slipping away.

Yeah, I felt like a bit of a clown when I saw the scene and it turned out this post, which had already garnered thousands of notes by then, turned out to be a total fuckin fabrication. But how was I supposed to know the team that cut the trailer would reverse a shot??

Yes, it is still basically true- she was always in love him and he finally fell in love with her. Something was always there for him with her, but really he didn’t start falling for her until he started seeing her as a woman and they kissed and, ya know, here we are.

But anyway, my basic point is this: trust no one. Don’t trust me. Definitely do not trust the Bridgerton trailer editors. Just stay vigilant, alright?

I release you from the burden of liking and reblogging this post. Be free!

And enjoy Bridgerton 💚🐝

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

This fandom created a myth about Lady Whistledown. Sometimes i wonder if i watched the same show. Let me make myself clear: While Penelope has to tell Colin the truth, because she loves him and he deserves it, LW helped the Bridgertons a lot actually. It saved them to have Daphne married to a creep ( and see how Violet wanted people to talk to reach LW and spread), saved Colin from a loveless marriage with children that he didn't know anything about it and saved Eloise. Yes, it saved Eloise. Eloise created and kept pushing the situation in her reckless pursuit. Eloise also didn't think about the consequences of her action towards the people working for LW, didn't listen to Penelope, didn't think about the risk she was putting people at. And while i understand her anger in not knowing, had she been a better friend, many other things would be different, because she truly never paid attention to what Penelope feels or want, she molded Pen to be whom she wanted and be her audience. And then, she left Pen with the choice of losing all she built and suffer consequences or pick the less harmful option: to make Eloise's scandal about politics, not romantic and save them both, plus Theo. The real ruin for Eloise would've been her being caught with Theo, something that was bound to happen as she was not careful at all. Why should Pen sacrifice all for Eloise? Would any of you sacrifice all ( job, family and possibly your liberty) for a friend who caused the bloody situation? I'm no hypocrite, i know i wouldnt. Not to mention Eloise bravado, to Pen she would say she wants to challenge society and doesn't care about what they think...but folded the moment she received a frown from the Ton. Shall we see who are LW victims, people that suffered real consequences? Lord Beerbrock. That's it. Marina is married, despite her lies and deceit. Colin? Nothing as well, in fact, happier than ever. Eloise? A few weeks of ostracism and she's back without a problem, without a romantic entanglement to ruin her. One that she clearly didn't really thought was deep enough to face society. The Bridgertons have more to thank LW than to hate her. And Violet and Anthony, i bet your asses, do think so, and see it. And The Queen? Are you watching the show? Have you seen Charlotte's personality? That woman loves the whole game with LW. And She loves to take it all, to receive the laurels of that society. As long as she can make it look like the won, and she can, easily, by revealing or be involved in revealing who is LW. See the whole KatexEdwina, how she handled the Ton there.

Anyway, just wanted to say something because some people have dreamed a LW that doesn't exist at all. Created on their own minds a boogeyman that wasn't simply reporting the truth with witty opinions but fabricating stories and lies to ruin lives, and that's simply not true. Never happened. There was never a lie created there. Only the truth, even about herself, as Pen was often damaged by her column.

[rafesslxt]

HII<33 i love ur work and i was wondering if you could write one where matt sees u with another guy and gets really really jealous and it ends with mattheo like really hard core fucking the reader like bend over and stuff? (can u tell i’m ovulating?)

[sorry for the late answer but I’m cleaning my drafts and requests right now and since I have so many I‘m gonna keep them a little shorter, hope u still like it 🫶🏻]

+ i already had something similar in my drafts so i mixed it

jealous jealous jealous you | mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo wants to make you jealous but you‘re way ahead of him

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, spanking, doggystyle, jealousy from reader and mattheo, different house reader

words: 1,2k

Mattheo thought he had the best plan ever. He knew you liked him, he saw the looks you gave him when you thought he wasn‘t noticing. The way he could always get under your skin with his annoying comments, your cheeks heating up when he whispered them into your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin.

But he was just as stubborn as you. So of course he wouldn‘t just admit he liked you. He wanted to make you say it so he had a plan.

Tonight it was a party where all the houses gathered together to celebrate. You knew Mattheo would be there ao of course you wore the shortest and tightest dress you owned with cute little heels on your feet. When you entered the party, it didn‘t took long for you to find Mattheo, dancing with Pansy. But what they both didn‘t knew was, you knew that Pansy liked your best friend Jane so it was obviously what kind of game he played.

But two can play that game. It didn‘t take long for you to find someone to dance. There was that boy Colin from your house that eyed you up and down so you took your chance. He pulled you towards him while dancing, your hips moving to the music and your ass brushing his jeans when you turned your back to him while dancing. You stood perfect, exactly in sight for Mattheo who looked at you over Pansy‘s shoulder.

You smiled at him provoking, leaning forwards and shaking your ass in front of Colin. That‘s it. That was all it took for Mattheo to let go of Pansy and storming towards you. Without a single word he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you away from the party.

"Let go of me Mattheo!" you groaned, but he didn‘t answer and didn‘t stop walking either. He took you up to the astronomy tower, pushing you against the railing so you where squeezed between it and his body.

"I‘m so fucking done with your games." he whipers angrily into your ear while he places his hands on your hips. "Don‘t know what you mean." you answer him with a cheeky smirk. He scoffs, turning you around with one swift motion, pushing your upper body over the railing.

"Mattheo!" you gasp loudly as your hands hold themselves at the metal beneath you. "I‘m gonna teach you a lesson now baby. It‘s called 'nobody‘s allowed to touch you besides me' understand?" be asks while slowly pushing the little fabric of your dress over your ass. You hear him groan behind you, his hands instantly on your skin.

Suddenly a sharp sting goes through you, making you gasp again in shock. You look over your shoulder and see Mattheo already smiling at you, them his hand coming down again on your cheek, leaving a mark. You bite down on your bottom lip trying to hide the moans that wanted to leave your mouth.

But soon he hits harder and you feel the wetness between your legs. "I said: Do you understand?" he repeats himself with such a sharp hit on your ass this time that a short scream left your mouth.

You feel him pulling your panties down and also hear him groan at the sight of your wet pussy. "Fuck I should have done that way earlier. Who could have known that our perfect little princess is that desperate huh?" His fingers wander over your wetness, teasing your clit in a circling motion.

Whimpers leave your mouth, wanting nothing more tham to feel him inside of you. "Please.." you start begging and wiggling your hips against him. "What was that princess? Couldn‘t quite hear you." he says in a mocking tone, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. "Please fuck me, need you, please." little whines leave your mouth which make his cock harder every second.

He pushes two fingers inside you, making you moan desperately. He leans forwards until his mouth is next to your ear again and whispers "I‘m goimg to fuck you so hard that you won‘t even remember anything from today but my cock inside your wet little pussy."

His fingers pumping and his thumb teasing your clit made you lose your mind, making you a brainless mess. "Shit look at you already so stupid just from my fingers. What‘s gonna happen when I fuck you with my cock?" he says in a devilish tone.

"Mattheo Please.." you beg again. "Need you inside me." You hear him fumbling with his belt, opening his pants and pushing them down with his boxershorts. He rubs his cock against your ass and chuckles. "Feel this princess?" You bite your lip and nod.

He breathes out, excited to already feel you. "I‘ve waited so long to do this.." Slowly he drags his tip through your wet folds, grunting at the feeling. Then he pushes in, inch for inch, biting his lip too.

"Oh fuck you‘re so tight baby. Just waited for me to pound that pussy." he moans as he feels your walls clench around him, sucking him in. Your eyes roll back and your hands tighten around the railing.

His hands grab your hips even tigther, fucking you from behind. One of his hands goes around your body finding your clit to bring you even closer to your high. His other hand finds your throat and squeezes it, smiling when he hears your moan and your walls around him tightening.

"It feels so good Matty.." you mumble, your eyes already closed with parted lips. His fingers against your clit worked even faster, making you tremble in front of him. "Oh baby I know, and guess what?" he leans forwards again whispering into your ear. "I‘m gonna be the only one who touches you. Never ever will anothet man touch you. You‘re mine princess. And I am your‘s." His touch got a little softer around your throat as he says this. "I- I‘m yours Mattheo." you moan, feeling your heart swelling in your chest.

"That‘s my good girl hm, now come for me on my cock." Your eyes squeeze shut as his hips thrust harder and faster, his fingers still working on your clit until you see stars.

You grab his arm behind you squeezing it as you come around him with a lout and broken moan. "Oh fuck.." Mattheo smiles down on you and groans as he feels your walls spasm. "Come inside me." you mumble quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

"You sure baby?" he asks again, biting his lip when he feels his climax nearing. You nod your head, feeling powerless after your orgasm. With a final thrust he stops inside you and comes inside you and let‘s out a short and quite whimper, groaning afterwards to conceal it. But you heard anyways and smile already ready to tease him.

When you both calm down again, all sweaty and a little shaky, he pulls you off the railing against his body, kissing you for the first time. "Should have done that way earlier too.." You laugh lighty and look up into his eyes. "You have all the time now to do so.." "hmm i hope so." he answers, leaning down to kiss you again with all the love he had in him.

thank you for reading 🫶🏻

taglist: @sofa-couch26 @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username

xoxo sarah <3

[natti-ice]

Can I PLEASE have some Colin bridgerton smut? My man deserves it he's so overlooked by Anthony and Benedict that no one barely writes for him and it makes me sadd :(

Imagine you and Colin are on travel(or a honeymoon even) and he just ruins you on a balcony ofc you scold him for it but it's not like he would listen to you

Pairing: Colin Bridegerton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+mdni, groping, teasing, clit play, semi public sex, p in v, creampie. (1.3k words)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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You're standing outside on the small terrace right outside your bedroom of the chateau you've been staying at for the past few days, the warm summer air blows gently across your skin as you watch the sun set in the distance. Your week has been quite hectic with all the traveling you and your now husband Colin have been doing, he always promised you that once you were wed he would show you the world and he's done very well at keeping his word. The day after your wedding the two of you set off into adventure, stopping off in many cities in England before working your way through Europe.

You were amazed at just how grand everything was outside of your city, you had grown so accustomed to the high social life you were brought up in, it never crossed your mind that others did not live the way you did, and when you found out, it was life changing. In such a short amount of time you had learned so much from the people you and Colin came across, he's quite the tour guide, he shows you to all of the best places for food and always seems to find the most unique forms of entertainment. You were so grateful to have such a special husband, most of the other suitors were bland and didn't care for culture but Colin was different, he had a thirst for exploration and he wanted you to come along.

Though he loved to travel around and see the sights, he also loved to spend time with you. More importantly, time alone... that man hasn't been able to keep his hands to himself since you both said "I do", his hands mindlessly wander around your body at any given moment, the feeling of his rough callused hands sent a rush through your body and he knew exactly what you were feeling. It was almost if he got off on making you shiver, seeing you try to pretend you don't feel anything when his fingers graze the back of your neck while talking to some local about the price of fish in his small town really gets him going.

You were lost in thought and didn't hear the footsteps creeping up behind you until suddenly long, toned, muscular arms wrapped around your frame causing you to jump. You hear his soft chuckle and immediately realize it was your husband, "my apologies dear, I didn't mean to startle you" your heart was already racing because of his sneak up but it pounded a little harder when his hands started to caress your sides so lovingly.

You let out a soft chuckle and lean against his chest "it's alright my love, my mind was in another word" you say, then you feel his hands starting to make their way up to your chest, his large calloused hands cup your breasts through the thin fabric of the nightie that clung to your body. A gasp gets caught in your throat as you feel yourself becoming more aroused, "Colin, we mustn't do this out here, the staff will see."

Colin's warm breath fanned on the nape of your neck leaving goosebumps in its wake as he whispers "we'll give them a good show, lord knows this place lacks entertainment." Despite your protests he continues to indulge in your body, you look over the balcony to see maids hanging up laundry to dry in the distance, surely if the looked up they could see you but in this moment you stopped caring. Your love and lust for Colin was much too strong to fight.

He moved one hand slowly down your front and lifted the hem of your dress to expose your undergarments that were now damp with your arousal, Colin runs his middle and ring fingers teasingly over your clothed slit sending a shiver down your spine. "Mmm, you're already so wet for me. Just how I like you." His dirty words make you feel like the only woman in the world, the pleasure he gives you is unlike anything you have ever experienced and you know you'll never find anything that will compare. His fingers found their way into your panties and he begun teasing your swollen clit with the pads of his fingers, you fought back moans, you didn't want him to know the effects he had on you but he was already well versed in your pleasure.

The hand that was still on your breast made its way you your neck, he held it gently but firm enough that you knew you weren't going anywhere.

"Tell me what you want, dear. Tell me what you crave." He whispers huskily into your ear, his desire for you strong in each of his words. His fingers slowly circled around your entrance, giving you a teasing taste of what's to come if you just ask.

"You," you let out breathlessly, "I want you." He hums as he is delighted by your response and pulls his hand from your clit making you whimper softly with need, he takes his hand off of your throat to quickly pull down his sleeping pants. You feel his hardened cock against your ass as he pulls up the fabric of your nightgown, his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and pull them down to your ankles. He spreads your legs with his knee and pushes your back forward slowly, your chest presses against the cool metal of the railing in front of you. He takes your hands and makes you grip the rail as he teasingly says "you might want to hold on, dear."

He lines himself up behind you and slowly runs his tip between your folds before pushing his length into your dripping pussy, your body shakes slightly as your senses are taken over by pleasure. He starts slow, rocking his hips against yours as he holds onto your waist firmly to keep you in place, his cock stretches you out deliciously making you moan softly. Your sounds encourage him to go harder, it's taking everything in him to not completely ruin you right now, he wants to prolong the experience to make sure you feel everything. Once he sets a good pace, that's when he starts to have fun with you. He snakes one hand under your bunched up dress and palms your bare tit, he groans into your ear as he pinches your hard nipple, "you feel so fucking good, fit so perfectly around my cock." You can't fight it anymore, you let your moans fly freely for the world to hear, you'll probably regret it later but you don't care right now.

You were certain everyone in the whole estate knew exactly what was taking place, your loud moans bounced off the walls as you came all over his cock, Colin was in complete ecstasy and couldn't care less about any onlookers. Let them watch. Let them see who owns you.

A few more pumps into your tight channel was all it took to send Colin over the edge, he groaned loudly as his hips bucked against you whilst his seed flooded your womb. He panted heavily as he slowly pulled out of you, both of your fluids covered his length in a beautifully raunchy mess. You slowly stood up straight and turned around to face him, the smile on his face matched yours as you both began to giggle softly. You feel so relaxed but you were still a bit embarrassed about allowing him to take you so publicly. "Colin Bridgerton, you are a very scandalous man" you say teasingly and lightly hit his left peck, he laughs heartily at your comment and takes your hand,  bringing it to his mouth and placing a soft, loving kiss to it. "My apologies, dear. You are too irresistible, I cannot contain my desire for you." He says with a smile and helps you straighten out your clothing before leading you back into your bedroom where he will most likely repeat the events that just transpired.

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Tag list: @let-love-bleeds-red @lovelyy-moonlight @themadhattersqueen @artzygurl

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[ben-crytalker]

listen. listen. l i s t e n. listen. listennnn when penelope asks colin to let her help with his cut, and he only gives in when she says please, and he could merely extend his hand but instead places it directly into hers?? and while she bandages him he jumps between studying her face and their touch? she lingers for a fraction of a second but he curls her fingers into his before she can pull back??? they look up at each other and his other hand instinctively reaches for her too but can only just land on nervously playing with the fabric, not quite letting go???? and they're still holding hands until she mentions his writing??!! he's so caught up in her approval it takes him a second to remember how it came about?! what causes him to break away isn't embarrassment over feelings for her. she just unintentionally reminded him that the safety of his fake persona, the armor as violet later calls it, had been stripped away when she read his journal. he distances himself because in that moment he was still convinced the 'new him' was how he needed to be in order to somehow achieve some sense of purpose or belonging, and pen was drawing him back toward his old self, the true self he was desperately trying to cover up. and even despite this he can't help himself but make sure he'll still see her again??? the symbolism of the glass breaking around the candle? him trying to grab the pieces of the casing to build it back up, and being cut by it? penelope being the one to mend the wound it causes??? HELP ME I AM SUFFOCATING HE FELT TOO VULNERABLE AND EXPOSED AND LATER THE FLAME GOES OUT WITH THAT DUMB GLASS BACK AROUND IT LIKE HIS SPIRIT WITHERING IN THE RUSTED ARMOR HOW COULD ANYONE WATCH THIS SEASON AND DO ANYTHING BUT REVEL IN IT ALL

[howbrightthemoon]

The audio description of the carriage scene, Bridgerton s3 ep 4

No one asked lol but here is the audio description of the best scene in television carriage scene from episode 4. I LOVE the description so much; it just adds a little extra layer to the scene, especially what's going on in Colin's head and the interactions during the intimate moments.

"What if I did have feelings for you?" "What?" He fixes her with a desperate stare. He drops to his knees in front of her. [...] "It is everything I have wanted to say to you...for weeks." 'But...Colin, we are friends." "Yes, but we..." He searches her face with wild shining eyes. [...] "But I'd very much like to be more than friends. So much more." He leans in close, bringing his face to hers. They share a scorching kiss. He wraps his arm around her waist. They separate for a brief moment, then share several deep, slow kisses. She runs her hands up to his face and down his chest. They pause, regarding each other in wonder. She brushes her fingers over the curves of his ear and rakes her hand through his hair. His open mouth curves upward in an ardent smile. He presses his lips to hers, flattening her against the back of her seat. His hands (ride?) up her skirt, coming to rest at her hips. She grips his lapel as they kiss fervently. He pulls back and slowly slips one of her puffed sleeves down along the creamy skin of her shoulder. He brushes his lips over her throat, and the yielding flesh below. He skims his hand down and squeezes her lush breast through her sparkling bodice. She rests her hand on his, looking down with her pink lips parted. His hand slowly slides down to her thigh. She finds his mouth with hers. He pulls back. They lock eyes, heaving. He looks down. He gently lifts the hem of her dress to palm the smooth curve of her calf. He meets her pleading eyes. She nods. He gathers the sparkling fabric in his fist. He softens his fingers as he slips them past her knee and beneath the folds of her skirts. They keep their eyes fixed on each other. Her mouth drops open. Her eyes widen, then drift closed. She clutches him convulsively. He watches her flushed face. Their open mouths meet. He catches her lip between his. She arches her neck and pulls him close. Her lips find his. They share several long, smoldering kisses.

And the very last line got me.

"For God's sake, Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?" Penelope's bosom swells. A smile blooms on her face.

UGH it's so beautiful. I know it's not ao3 standard, but it just really heightens the tension and intimacy of the scene. Can't wait to see the mirror scene next.

Does anyone have stats on how many times the carriage scene has been rewatched lmao

[inklore]

COLIN BRIDGERTON IS A BOOB GUY.

He is the epitome of a boob guy, and he doesn’t even try to hide it either. Doesn’t stop himself from constantly needing a hand up your shirt to cup one of your boobs while the two of you cuddle or sleep. Doesn’t try to make excuses as to why he loves you wearing low cut tops. Loves the way your boobs spill out of a tight dress, or if a top is cut low enough, how the display of the skin between them makes his eyes constantly travel the expanse of said skin. 

The skin his mouth has been on a dozen times. The skin that his tongue has left a wet trail along on his way to one of your nipples. 

And when he can see those same nipples poke out against the fabric of your shirt, his jaw aches. 

His tongue runs along his dry lips, reaching for a drink to quench his dry mouth. To distract himself from leaning over and wetting the material of your top as his lips wrap around your clothed nipple—his teeth biting the sensitive peak until your chest is withering beneath him. 

You never knew how sensitive one’s chest could be. How a brush of a thumb against your hardened nipple could have you mewling. How the touch of a palm squeezing your breast could feel fucking amazing. 

Colin undeniably proving those things to you. 

Showing you just how sinful and torturous one’s mouth can be when it’s worshiping someone’s chest. When hands, tongue, and teeth have you soaking through your underwear, your pussy throbbing as if you’ve already come multiple times just from how good it feels. 

Spent.

And he’s barely touched you where you need him to. 

You’d think such acts would stay in the bedroom. Not leak their way out and have him acting up in public. 

But Colin Bridgerton is not a subtle man. 

And you look too damn good for him to not act up. 

To not stare longer than is appropriate when you’re in public. To not chew on his bottom lip when you bend over, reach for something that makes your boobs press together, brush your chest against his when you pass him to get to the other side of the room. 

Or if he’s feeling even more devious and wanting, his thumb rubbing small, slow circles against the fabric of your top. Right where your nipple grows hard. Right in the middle of a group of people, where it looks to them, a husband or lover is embracing his beloved. Shielding her from someone passing. Telling her a secret. About to lean in for a kiss. 

Definitely not making her swallow down the small gasps that cave in her lungs from the feel he is copping. 

From the breath at the shell of her ear when he whispers, “let’s go home.” 

Home. 

Where he strips you down and worships your body like he’s studying it to have it carved into stone. Studying it like he’ll never get to touch it again. Like this might be his last day on earth, and by god, he’s going to take his time, going to touch, kiss, lick, and bite every part of you he knows will illicit the filthiest of noises. The sweetest of moans. The heaviest of breaths. 

Both of his hands holding a handful of your breasts, a thumb and forefinger playing with one nipple while his mouth sucks and nips at the other. 

The more he does so, the more sensitive you become. The more you beg him to touch your pussy. To fuck you. To stop moving the underside of his cock against your wetness while he marks up your chest—devours, claims, moans against the peaks that have made him delirious all day—and push inside of you. 

To make you come around him if only to stop this torture. 

And when he finally does, when you’ve come enough times for him to be satisfied and your body to feel hot and heavy with sedation against him, he’ll grin against your lips. Run a hand across your forehead, down your cheek, fingers cupping your jaw. 

“I need to see you covered in me.” 

You don’t have to question what he means. Don’t have to give him permission other than the breathy gasp he swallows down with his mouth pressing to yours. You know what he wants. What he’s craved all day. 

When he pulls out of you, your pussy feels swollen and hollow—like you lost the thing that was making you feel whole. 

But the need is still building back up. Still there even after your body has been built up and tumbled down already tonight. It’s hard for your body not to react to Colin moving up it, placing his wet cock between the expanse of your chest, pushing your boobs together, and letting out the weakest moan when he starts to move. 

His hips stuttering even though he’s just started. His mouth hung open as he watches the way his cock moves against your skin. Between your beautiful breasts.

Eyes flashing up to yours, making your own moan fall from your lips at how big his blue eyes shine with desire. How all it takes is your tongue snaking out from between your lips and moving against the head of his cock once, twice, when his hips thrust forward, for a guttural groan to shake his chest and his come painting across your skin. 

And once he can think straight, once his breath isn’t heaving from his lungs and he’s looking like a tortured man, he wraps a hand around his still hardened cock and smears the come at his tip against your nipple. 

Both your mouths twitching from released breaths. 

“You are beautiful.” He says as he admires his come on your chest, before his eyes meet yours with a smile. 

[rose-edith]

Being a plus size Bridgerton sister would include:

•All your life you’d felt like an imposter, bigger than your sisters- sturdier- curvier. You felt less than, despite being physically more than. And you felt that no one ever really understood that.

•Your mother and Lady Danbury saw no flaws in you, thought you were absolutely beautiful, and kind and clever- but they believed you were simply crippling shy. So naturally, they went out of their way to help ‘bring you out of your shell’. Which yes, was as utterly hellish as it sounds! It meant rounds of introductions to eligible men, being pushed to the centre stage at all family functions, dressed in more jewels than anyone else. They really wanted to make you sparkle, because to them, you were already a diamond. You had been the apple of your Father’s eye before his death, and everytime Violet looked at you, it was Edmund she could see.

•as for the Queen? You may well not exist. She wasn’t even the slightest bit perplexed or excited by you. Which suited you fine!

•Anthony is SO protective of you, and following his marriage to Kate, she becomes protective of you too. Kate and Anthony stare at any members of the ton who even dream of thinking anything unkind.

•On his travels, Colin makes sure to collect for you the most beautiful jewellery or paintings or fabrics. Colin is tender with all his siblings, but he’s the one who listens to you most when you’re upset- he’s the one who sees it, and does his best to support you and build your confidence. Whether it’s fashionable or not to dance with your own sister, Colin will always take you for at least one turn about the floor; he can’t bare for you to be overlooked or be left ‘on the shelf’.

•Benedict is also your number one fan, at balls and social events he’ll often help you to escape- whether he takes you for a turn about the room, to get a drink, or to help you leave early if you’re just not feeling it.

•Growing up, you couldn’t help but be envious of Daphne, of her looks, her success on the marriage mart, her beautiful life with Simon. But as you grew, she showed you that real beauty comes from within anyway. Simon loves you too, finding you to be amusing, clever and witty. As for their children- well, you’re their favourite Aunt!

•Eloise was aloof as ever, she understood rationally and practically why you were somewhat on the outskirts of society. But she enjoyed not being the only one on the outside looking in; and sometimes when she needed an out you would cause a diversion, and vice versa; Eloise was an ally!

•and hand in hand with Eloise came a friendship with Penelope. You realised almost immediately that Pen was Lady Whistledown, but you never told a soul. Not Pen, not Eloise, not anyone. You were proud of Pen for using the harsh reality of a lonely life to create something meaningful; to carve her own career. Penelope was your friend, though she was Eloise’s best friend. She was at your side when Cressida cut across your heart with her barbs and remarks, and when Cressida “accidentally” cut Penelope up, spilt her drink or split her dress, you would retaliate in kind- most notably resulting in her perfectly smoothed down hair getting dislodged when she “tripped” over your out-stretched foot at the drinks table. ‘Poor Cressida!’ You had cried with devilish delight. ‘What an awful spectacle to befall you!’ The music stopped and everyone turned to look as the mighty Cressida crumbled. What an elated victory indeed.

•Francesca was in and out of your lives, going to Bath and escaping the misery of a lonely life in London. But she would send you music; and suddenly the world wasn’t so blue.

•Your favourite people of all to be around though? Hyacinth and Gregory. They were young, brains like sponges ready to learn and laugh and they love you without reservation. You spend afternoons drilling them with dances, playing archery, games, stealing cakes from the kitchens.

•but like all your family, there’s only one thing you ever wanted really: to find love. You just weren’t foolish enough to believe you’d find it yet, but maybe, just maybe, you’d be surprised when love fell directly into your lap.

[whispersoftheton]

This idea has been on my mind for a while… Anthony seeing you in the bridgerton blues for the first time, can either be smut or fluff :) thanks

Ahhhh I love this so much, thank you for sending it in! :)

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing, fluff, smut, p in v

Word Count: 1.2K

The family gathered around the room on another sweltering summer day. Hyacinth and Gregory bickered over yet another sworn tie in their endless chess matches while Eloise quietly read her book in the opposite corner. Anthony sat between his brothers, Benedict telling him of his endless tales from class among the unspoken soirees he discreetly attended from time to time and Colin of his many travels. Anthony found himself growing bored, awaiting your arrival. You were to accompany him and the rest of the Bridgertons to the races this afternoon, as it would be your first outing as a family since your marriage to the Viscount. And he could not bear to listen to another one of Benedict's tales for one more second; he needed to see you.

"Mother." Anthony stood hurriedly from the gold-trimmed sofa to approach Lady Bridgerton as she entered the room. "Where is she?"

"Now, calm down, Anthony; she is nearly ready." Lady Birdgerton assured him while straightening out his neckline to perfection. She knew Anthony's antics well enough by now to understand his growing impatience was only a product of his theatrics.

"I feel as though I have been waiting an eternity. Surely she must-" Anthony made his way past his mother and into the hallway, his words stammered as soon as his eyes landed on you. You'd been making your way to the main room when he appeared in your path, a smile gracing both your lips. There was no word in the English language to describe how beautiful you looked. The most impeccable dress draped over every curve in a more delicate shade of blue than he wore but complimented his outerwear perfectly. Warmth blossomed in Anthony’s chest at the sight of you in that color. His color. He never thought he'd see the day when the one he loved, the one his heart eternally yearned for, would wear the color that meant so much to him and his family. He would never tire of how easily you overpowered him whenever he was in your presence.

"Do I look alright?" You nervously patted your skirt, ensuring everything was as it should be. Hesitation apparent in your tone as you approached him.

"Alright?" Anthony's eyes widened as he took your hands in his. He couldn't believe you would use a modest word such as 'alright' to describe how exquisite you looked right now. "My love, you look…absolutely stunning. Beyond words, truly." Heat filled your face, and your stomach fluttered at his flattery. Anthony had a way of making you feel as though you two were the only person on the face of the earth, easily melting under his gaze. It was an exquisite feeling you wished to relish in forever. Anthony glanced around and took advantage of the privacy to steal a kiss. His lips were warm and soft against your own. They parted slightly, allowing you to move more passionately as your hunger for one another became apparent in mere seconds. It shouldn't be surprising, seeing as you and your husband could hardly keep your hands off each other since your wedding night. The moment grew heated with every swipe of his tongue, hands caressing the soft flesh of your waist and hips hidden beneath the restricting fabric of your dress.

"Mother!" Anthony reluctantly pulled away, panting, and shouted. "Go ahead without us. We will join you shortly, as promised." Without so much as a second thought or a response from anyone, he whisked you away toward a nearby closet in a closed-off hallway he was sure no one wandered by.

"Anthony, what are you doing? The races are starting soon." You protested before he cut you off with another chaste kiss and shut the door behind him.

"We will join them in a moment. I must have you right now." The passion flowed through his words, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation and a chuckle escape you. He pulled you close, continuing his ministrations. His lips scattered kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Your dress was bunched up toward you as Anthony hastily removed his trousers just to his upper thigh. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

"Seeing you in our family color," Anthony spoke between kisses. "You are so beautiful." He was rambling as he often did when he was this worked up. The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every beautiful sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now. Anthony abruptly lifted and pressed you against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic groan from his chest.

"Anthony, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his cock prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as the tip slid over your sensitive clit. He lined himself up and pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison, and he waited, letting you settle as you nodded for him to move. Anthony began to plunge into you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he bottomed out inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him as low whimpers escaped you.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Anthony craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even being inside you now, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already aching for attention. Your bodies rocked in sync with one another, desperate for relief. Anthony felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed on his cock, pulling Anthony to spill himself inside of you.

Anthony pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. He made sure you were settled on the ground and took the time to adjust himself. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before opening the door to confirm no one was outside and stepping out of the closet. You may have missed the race's first leg, but with the knowing smirks and blissed-out looks on both your faces, it was well worth it.

Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 (let me know if you would like to added here or dm me if you’d like to be removed)

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[dollypopup]

Today I'm thinking about how so much of Colin's narrative speaks to the neurodivergent experience of having to pretend to be someone else as a survival mechanism. Of the pressure in masking because your real, authentic self is rejected or ignored: too weird, too quiet, too loud, too gullible, too soft-heart, too. . .everything. Too anything. And at the same time, not enough.

Colin gets excited about his travels, about his hyperfixations, talks and talks and talks about them, and no one cares. So, Colin shuts up. Colin writes letter after letter, and gets no reply. So, Colin writes in a journal just for himself. Colin tries and tries to make his family proud, tries to marry, tries courting properly, and it blows up in his face. So, Colin chooses not to date, to become a spectator. Colin is yelled at for trying to invest, so he no longer asks or talks about money, doesn't try to rock the boat in his city. Who Colin is, what he wants, ceases to matter, the fabric of him folded smaller and smaller- instead he focuses on the shell. Builds it in image of his older brothers, of the men around him. Mirrors them.

Anthony says he should have taken Colin to brothels, that he's a fool for trying to marry and his engagement blows up- Colin thus goes to brothels. Colin hops from city to city, trying on new personas like outfits, fine tuning each one. Is this it? Will this be what finally makes them accept me? Colin's appeal to the women of the ton is that he does not talk about himself- but about them. That they're wearing beautiful dresses, that surely they'll find husbands. Separating himself from them- cannot tell them of his travels, that he's not the brave one, it was everyone working together to help with the balloon.

Deflect. Never centered. Colin exists on the outskirts as Pen does, he's just hypervisible for his exterior, and invisible otherwise. His charm is that he pleases those around him. His wounds are that the truest version of him cannot accomplish that. Thus, he becomes hyperaware of what his impact is, first to apologize and last to be forgiven. Living for the approval of others is a trap. He knows. He's fallen into it, a bear claw around his ankles.

He feels like the only way he's worthwhile is if he's providing something for someone. An apology, or comfort, or ease, compliments or winks, a laugh or a distraction, good looks or a fantasy. Providing a happy life for Pen by stepping out of the way, his own needs secondary. It's being there for his mum for an escort or a soft heart to heart. It's taking Anthony's disappointment in him and being indulgent to Eloise's insults. It's giving Benedict his special tea and saying hardly anything about why he bought it in the first place. Bringing gifts to family members who did not write back to him as he wandered the world, alone. It's sticking his neck out for Penelope with Jack, it's providing a dance or a rescue or a good time, checking on Marina to make sure she's alive and okay, listening to Phillip. Colin isn't at all comfortable being himself, the himself that is messy, so he covers it in the himself that is useful.

But what he does, what he provides other people, is not his actual worth. He thinks he's being altruistic by stepping aside and languishing in his feelings for Pen, believing she'll be happier in the future with Debling, waiting and waiting and waiting, until that candle burns out and he's at the 11th hour- and when he snaps and goes after her, when he cuts into her dance, when he runs for her in that carriage, he makes a choice for himself that he thinks, in some way, is selfish.

But it isn't. It's what she wants, too. And there's something beautiful in the fact that with Penelope, his being real, what he thinks is so difficult and unwanted, is actually giving her what she has desired all along. They both find fulfillment and contentment in his unmasking. Penelope never wanted the shell. She saw what was beneath it. She loves what's beneath it.

And I think there's something. . .healing, in that narrative. That us ND peeps who mask as a means of fitting in- that will never bring us happiness. Not really. That it didn't bring Colin happiness.

His arc is realizing that he should be his true, authentic self, and that love will bloom from it. And it does.

I don't know. I think I can learn something from that. I think I'm going to carry that with me for a while.

[shelbgrey]

Doing Something unholy (Benedict Bridgerton)

Paring: Benedict Bridgerton x Wife!Reader

Summary: Benedict wants help with one of his "art projects"

Warrings: SMUT! Riding, getting dirty with paint both metaphorically and literally, unprotected sex, painting body parts, praise kink, dirty talk, married couple.

MasterList ML2

Benedict had been locked in his room for hours, I was missing my husband and getting bored of hearing yet another story about Colin's travels. As much as I loved him, I couldn't take much more. I excused myself from the conversation with my brother-in-laws and walked down the hallway where I knew Benedict would be doing his painting.

I opened the door quietly. I smiled when I peaked around the corner, even in his most comfortable state he was the most handsome I've ever seen. He was wearing nothing but his ruffled white shirt, the collar open wide to reveal most of his chest and his suspenders were sitting somewhat loose on his shoulders. His gray eyes staring intently on his canvas as his hand moved the brush with expertise.

I came up behind the stool he was sitting on and my lips found his cheek. He turned his head slightly, catching my lips before they could make contact with his skin then returned to his work.

“don't let me distract you, My Love” I whispered as my hands found the opening of the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin against mine even if it was just the palm of my hand.

“You always know how to distract me, Mrs. Bridgerton” he says softly as the brush continues to move gracefully across the canvas.

“Me?” I kissed his jaw as my palms moved down his bare chest. “never”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. His eyes never leave the canvas as he continues to paint, but his body leaned into my touch. “Mmm... I beg to differ, darling”

“Mhm” my fingers hooked on to the suspenders on his shoulder and pulled them down so they hung from his pants. “Just keep painting... I won't distract you” I said softly against his neck. I kissed the skin where his jaw and neck met as I unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, my hands still brushing up and down his chest as I stood behind him.

His breath hitches as my lips meet his skin, fingers tightening on the brush for a moment. He releases a slow breath, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Darling…” His voice is husky, just a little rough, like his warning me even though he knows it'll be ignored.

“Yes, my love?” I asked innocently.

He turns his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “You may think you're not being a distraction, but you got that look on your face… that naughty one, my dear”

“I don't know what you're talking about” I smiled. I placed my hand on his jaw, turning his face towards me. The paintbrush falls to the floor with a clink as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling into his lap I set sideways on just one of his knees as his other hand reaches up to cup my cheek, staining my skin with the leftover paint on his fingers. “Oh, I think you do”

Our noses brush against each other as he cupped my cheek. I shivered when I felt the cool liquid of the paint touch my cheek. He smirks, his thumb brushing gently against the smear of paint. “It seems like I've left a little something on you”

I shook my head playfully, knowing the dirty thoughts that were probably circling his mind after that little inuwindo. I reached for the paint that was on the table next to us and dipped my finger tips into the liquid. I gave him a playfully smile as I smeared some paint on his bare chest to get him back for the mess he made on my cheek.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. his eyes watched me intently as the paint marks appeared on his chest. His free hand reached up and grabbed mine, making a paint blotch on his skin as he pressed our hands to his chest. A small smile playing on his lips. “You're a messy one, aren't you?”

“When it comes to you” I said softly, cupping his jaw and kissing him softly as more paint got stained his jaw.

The softness of the moment only broke when he pulled back, his breath slightly ragged as he looked at the smeared paint on my cheek and neck. “you want to try something... New?” He murmurs, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

I nodded softly, pressing my forehead against his. “Like what, My love?” I asked, slipping my hand under the unbuttoned white shirt that he was still wearing, showing the rest of his torso.

His breath hitches, he leans in and whispers against my lips. “I want to paint with you, use our bodies to do it”

I couldn't miss the sexual undertone and the sparkle in his eyes. The idea of our nude bodies in paint and rolling around, making an abstract design did something to me in a way I couldn't explain. We weren't strangers to trying new things in our sex life. I pressed my lips to his and nodded. In the corner of my eye I could see a huge piece of paper lying on the floor of his studio.

He presses a quick passionate kiss to my lips then pulls away with intensity. “Take your clothes off” He commands softly, the thought of getting covered in paint together turning him on.

I get up from his lap and pull my dress down, letting it pool to the floor. His eyes roam over my corset-clad body with nothing but intensity and admiration. He stands up and begins to remove his shirt. In a rushed pace, revealing his toned chest and arms.

His gray eyes stared at me with hunger as I quickly untied the corset and threw it to an unknown place in the room, leaving me completely bare to him. His breath hitches, taking in the sight of my nude form. He blindly picks up a large paintbrush, his eyes never leaving mine. “Lie down on the canvas, face up” instructs, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes, sir” I said softly, I placed a kiss on his lips before walking over the large piece of paper on the ground and layed down on it like I was told.

Benedict's breath catching at the sight of my bare body against the canvas. He reaches for a container of paint and dips the brush in, approaching the canvas. “You're so beautiful, so perfect”

I spread my legs slightly and let my arms lay above my head, watching him kneel between my legs with lust in my eyes. my eyes fluttered closed, moaning at the feeling of the cold liquid hitting my burning skin. He paints swirls and thick layers around my breasts, belly, and thighs. As he paints, he occasionally dips his fingers in paint and runs it over my skin. My eyes fluttered closed and my brain short circuited at feeling the cool liquid against my flesh, all I could focus on was him.

The brush glided over my nipples and down my stomach. He reaches for another container of paint, a deeper shade of purple. “Open your legs wider” He instructs softly.

He paints a large, thick swirling against my inner thighs, the purple paint standing out against our pale skin. He then sets the brush down and runs his finger tips over my skin. “So beautiful” He murmurs, our eyes locked as his hands travel up the inside of my thigh.

“Ben…” I moaned softly, feeling my stomach tighten from the pleasure. I wanted to squeeze my thighs together for some sorta friction, feeling myself getting wetter for him. My hips arched and a sinful noise was forced from my lips as his fingers brushed through my folds, gathering the juices before teasing my clit with a thin, delicate touch. “So wet for me already”

I moaned softly, arching my hips up instinctively as His hands ran over my burning cheek. He smirked, watching me squirm on the canvas. “You're so beautiful... I'm going to give you a final touch here”

“Benedict” moaned softly.

“Yes, my love? Shall we continue?” He asks, his voice soothing yet dominating and teasing.

“Y-yes” I tested his patience by quickly flipping us on the canvas. I pushed him gently to his back and I straddled his hips.

Benedict's eyes widened in surprise as he registered he was on the canvas now, flat on his back. He looks around at the canvas, smirking as he layed in the center. “What are you doing, love?” He asks, his voice slightly breathless.

He watched intently as I dipped my fingers in the paint and slowly made a stroke of red from his collarbone and down his chest. I could feel his heart racing with anticipation under the tips of my fingers as the red paint trails down his chest, he can't help but let out a soft gasp. “Fuck,” He breathes, his hands squeezing my paint stained hips. “Keep going”

He lets out a sharp intake of breath as my fingers slowly brushed from his neck and down to one of his nipples. Benedict's back arched off the canvas as his gray eyes stared into mine. He huffs and before I knew it he was setting up and I remained in his lap. I moaned against his lips, kissing him roughly as I blindly took a glob of paint and ran both of my hands down his back, gripping his shoulders. My nails dug into the back of his shoulders when I felt his erection poking against my aching core, I instinctively rock my hips.

He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving, his eyes holding a feral gaze. “Enough games” He growls, the grip on my hips tighten as pressed his erection against my slick folds. “bloody hell”

I threw my head back in pleasure as he suddenly buried himself inside me. I let out a moan, arching my hips as the paint on our skin mixed, creating a messy, beautiful scene.

“Benedict!” I moaned. He thrusts roughly, his need and desire filling every movement. The paint on our bodies mixes and smears on the canvas beneath us, creating a masterpiece worthy of the love between the artist and his muse. “Fuck, you're so tight, love”

I moaned at the fast pace he set, I placed my hands on his chest, leaving handprints all over his skin as I tried to keep balance. I rocked my hips at a rough, rushed pace. I moaned his name like a prayer.

“I can't get enough of you, Darling” Benedict groans possessively. I moaned and cried his name as he continued to thrust and rock our bodies together like a mad man. His pace unrelenting as he claimed my body without missing a movement. Paint mixed with our sweat, leaving trails of color on our skin and the canvas beneath. “Stay with me, y/n... Fuck me back”

“Benedict” I moaned desperately, rolling my hips, riding him at a fast pace. “oh, God” I moaned out, lifting my hips up so only his tip remained then swiftly setting myself back down, so I felt every inch of him.

He growls, he blindly dips his hand in paint then grip on your hips, making the cold liquid smear over my hips and back as his hips moved with mine, driving himself deeper, hitting every spot that had me seeing stars. The scene before us became an abstract explosion of passion, paint and sweat.

“God, Benny!” I moaned, rocking my hips and trying to keep up with his thrusts. My head falls back in pleasure as every inch of him stretches me out and his tip repeatedly hits my g-spot.

“You feel so good, Darling, so perfect” Benedict's voice was thick, husky against my neck. Every word was filled with his desire and lust. Our hands never stop roaming over each other, leaving trails of color and feeling wherever he could touch. My cry of pleasure encouraged his movements to become more urgent.

Feeling of our hot bodies and the cold paint that covered us consumed me with pleasure. It was something that felt so good but scandalous even for a married couple. I didn't care, it felt too good to stop now. The sinful activities was for our eyes only and all that mattered was the two of us. I moaned and cried out his name like it was the only thing in knew. I arched my hips as the knot in my stomach got dangerously tight with pleasure.

There's something wildly intoxicating about the act. Benedict's hand wrapped around the back of my neck with his painted covered hand and pressed our lips together and swiftly flipped our bodies, pressing my paint covered back to the abstracted canvas.

I moaned, tugging at his hair as I sunk underneath his body. I arched my hips off the canvas, the mixture of paint and our releases making the paper stick to our skin. I let out a high pitched moan, my head falling back in pleasure against the canvas

“Benedict... B-ben I'm close” I moaned desperately.

His hips bucked, the pace became faster and more urgent. He nipped at my ear lobe, whispering. “Come for me Darling” his voice was like a siren call, pulling me into the depth of pleasure that was him.

I dug my nails into his back as my walls clenched around him. I wrap my legs around his waist, pushing him deeper Inside me. My body arches, our body pressed firmly together, leaving no space between us and allowing the paint on our skin to become one.

shivers went down my spine. He thrust harder and deeper, his eyes locked with mine as pushes me over the edge. “I want to see you fall apart for me” He said, his voice strained and desire glowing in his eyes.

I let out a sinful moan, digging my nails into his shoulders as our eyes locked. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make the knot in my stomach snap. I held on to him tightly like he was the only thing keeping from slipping away. I arched my hips as I came, my orgasm drowning me in pleasure “Benedict!”

He growled low, as I convulsed around him triggering his release. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and biting at my skin as he rode his orgasm out. His hips kept bucking until we were both spent. “Christ you're beautiful”

I moaned softly, feeling the mixture of our releases pool in between my thighs and onto the canvas. He carefully pulled, leaving me moaning at the emptiness I felt. A satisfying smile spread across his face as his softening member left my warmth. He looked down at the canvas and saw the mess we made, the paint and our releases creating an abstract art piece.

“I'm going to clean you up, Darling,” Benedict said softly and carried me to the bathroom. He filled up the tub with hot water. Then sat down gently into the water, I sighed constantly as the warm water kissed my skin. Benedict slowly sat himself behind me in the water and began to wash the paint and our releases off my skin gently. “We make quite the mess, don't we?” He said, smiling against my shoulder as he kissed it lovingly.

“we always do one way or another” It was always something with us, we still haven't told violet about the couch we broke. Luckily Anthony was able to find an identical one to replace it before their mother found out.

He chuckled as he continued to run the washcloth over my skin. His fingers gently massaging my spent muscles as he cleaned the remaining paint off. “And I wouldn't change it for the world”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“when did you do that?” Anthony asked, looking at the large abstract canvas that was now hanging in Benedict's room.

“the other day” Benedict said as anthony got closer to the piece of art. His eyes squinted and he tilted his head, studding the odd canvas.

Colin added “since when do you do abstract art? It's quite large too”

“trying something new” Benedict said, glancing up at his two brothers for a moment. He tried to hide his smirk at the thought of the process it took to make the piece.

“is that a hand print?” colin asked, he got closer and stared at all the random blotches and strokes. “it's too small to be yours-oh...” he stepped back and Anthony turned his head to benedict, smirking. “oh you didn't, brother you sly-”

“a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell” Benedict said, cutting off Anthony's teasing. “oh, but brothers don't keep secrets” Colin added, raising an eyebrow.

“carriages, canvases... Can nothing stay innocent in this family?” Anthony asked, shaking his head at his little brothers.

[writtenfangirl]

Kismet

In which Anthony Bridgerton contemplates the meaning of life, death and love

I’ve had this scene in my notes app for so long and I always found it so beautiful but couldn’t find a character to write it for UNTIL Anthony Bridgerton came along.

Pure fluff but mentions of death.

Anthony had always been afraid of death, as much as he’d been afraid of love.

It was difficult not to be when you witness both of your parents’ deaths.

He’d seen the way his father collapsed, face purple, breaths coming out in gasps before they suddenly stopped. He saw his father’s mortal body die, saw the light in his eyes dim before they completely sputtered out. And afterwards, when the doctors could do nothing to help him, he saw his mother’s soul die with him. Her cry of anguish as Edmund Bridgerton collapsed onto the soft grass, the days after the funeral when she would not speak and she only had that vacant look in her eyes, without any sign of that light Anthony grew up seeing.

Death was not a foreign concept to Anthony Bridgerton. The fragility of his mortality and the concept of his demise, as well his failings as the Bridgerton patriarch were his most intimate friends. These were the thoughts that plagued him at night. They were the covetous brothers Benedict and Colin were not. While his brothers of flesh and blood may have been content to let him keep the title, those thoughts had looked over his shoulder, had watched his every move and decision, had waited for a single misstep for the right moment to strike.

They absolutely terrified him.

So much so that he had stopped living.

What good was it, truly, to live and to love, when life could end in a flash. When nothing you do in this world matters, when you realize that everything you held dear could be taken from you in a blink, you begin to believe that such things weren’t worth the risk.

He loves his family, that much he was sure. It was difficult not to love them when they seemed to reside in his very heart, woven into the fabric of his soul. He had no choice but to love them.

But he had a choice when it came to romantic love. He did not have to go through the pain of losing someone else, nor would he ever damn another person into loving him and losing him too. On that, he could decide.

Or, at least he thought he could.

Because love certainly came for him, as surely as he knew death would one day come for him. It came to him in the form of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Y/N Y/L/N. She was the niece of the Viscountess Heathwood. By the ton’s standards, she was nobody. Beautiful yet still, unimportant and without any significant title or dowry aside from her relation with the Viscountess. Had it not been for her staggering beauty or her education and graceful countenance, she would have been dismissed.

If you had asked the Anthony of five years ago what he thought of when he imagined his wife, a woman like Y/N would have been last on his list.

But the Anthony of five years ago was an idiot.

Because Y/N, with all her grace and beauty, had a fierce determination that not only made her befitting of the title of viscountess but also made her a great addition to the Bridgerton family.

And to Anthony, she was everything.

Love in the shape of Y/N knocked on his door, and when he had refused to answer, love barreled its way into his heart like a disease. It burrowed itself into his skin until he flushed at the mere thought of her, wormed its way into his heart until his heart beat only for her. Then, love pounded its way deep into his soul and staked a tether that tied his soul to hers.

Anthony knew that one day, death would come knocking. It would take its bony hand and place it on his shoulder, beckoning Anthony to his side.

He was still undoubtedly terrified of it.

But for Y/N, for the love his life, he would live.

“What’s got you in so morose a mood so early in the morning?” Her voice, sweet and calming, pulled him out of his stupor.

Bathed in the golden light of the dawning sun, she looked breathtaking. It should have been impossible, to be so beautiful when she’d just woken up, but Anthony knew that if anyone could make the impossible possible, it would have been her.

She was pressed against his side, her body warm and flushed against his own. His arm, wrapped around her as her head rested on his chest. The only thing that separated them was the thin fabric of their sleeping clothes but even with them on, he could feel the contours of her body. The rolling curve of her hips, the softness of her skin as his hands trailed down her arm and up again.

He’d awoken to his wife in his arms for three years now but he could never take this feeling for granted. Everyday he woke up like this was a day he was truly thankful for.

Anthony placed a tender kiss on his wife’s forehead, the little hairs on the tip of her forehead tickling his nose. “I was just deep in thought, my love.”

“About what?”

He contemplated lying to her. Admittedly, his thoughts were far too dark to share so early in the morning. But Y/N had always been adept at sussing out any falsehoods, most especially his own.

“Death.”

Her brow shot straight up, pulling away from him and propping herself up on an elbow. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped past her shoulder revealing her glorious skin, her long hair trailing down her back. The golden light that bathed her had turned into a halo against the backdrop of the window, turning her into one of God’s sacred angels. “Why the bloody hell would you think about your death so early in the morning?”

“I wasn’t thinking my death. Just death in its most general sense.”

She gave him a pointed look. “That’s not very reassuring.”

He grinned at her. He couldn’t help it, not when she was looking at him in that certain way that always had him believing he was in trouble but would receive a reward rather than a punishment. “I assure you, it is not so morbid. I was simply thinking of life’s ephemerality, and how one ought to live it for the right people.”

She didn’t look reassured but nevertheless, she laid back down, Anthony’s arm instantly enveloping her, hand absentmindedly resuming its task of drawing lazy circles on her arm. “You would think, that with my husband celebrating his birthday today, he would think of happier things. His beautiful wife, perhaps, or his kind mother, or the veritable gaggle of siblings who adored him. You would think that, perhaps, his mind would wander towards the child his wife is currently carrying. But alas, he thinks of death. I never thought death to be a celebratory topic, but to each his own.”

He flicked her nose playfully at her sarcastic tone, her mouth pulling into a grin. “If you must know, death was on my mind because today marks the day that I am officially older than my father was when he passed.”

Suddenly, whatever joy filled the air died. “Oh.”

It was the truth. In the weeks since his birthday, his every waking thought had been consumed by his father. His father, Edmund Bridgerton, who was 8th viscount of the Bridgerton family. His father, who’s death marked the biggest change of Anthony’s life. His father, who lived through the first 18 years of Anthony’s life but lived no longer.

It was a sobering thought to realize that he would have to live longer than he knew the man he looked up to his whole life.

And it was these thoughts that plagued him.

“He has been on my mind,”he murmured but he knew she would understand, “I wonder if he is proud of me.”

“Of course he is.” She had said the words with such surety, it was difficult to argue with her. But Anthony would certainly try.

“How can you be so sure?”

She gave him a leveling stare, as if he was an idiot for even asking such a question. “I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I know he is proud of you, as proud of you as I am.” Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, the pads of her finger soft against his stubble. “How can he not be, when you have done right by your siblings? By your mother? How can he possibly feel anything but pride at his eldest son for taking care of his whole family?”

“I make such a mess of things.” He frowned. His thoughts weren’t always so desolate, not since he married Y/N. It was difficult to keep his countenance bleak when he was married to the kind of person who smiled at a family of squirrels, or grinned at the sight of a little girl giggling through the window of a shop. But today of all days, his mind strained to his faults.

But his wife, bless her, would hear none of it. “You are human, Anthony. It is in our nature to make mistakes. I am certain your father once thought his mistakes egregious but yet still, he remains great. As sure as I am of your own excellence.”

“I go days, sometimes, never thinking of him. And when I remember him again, I feel such tremendous shame and grief at having forgotten him that sometimes, I can scarcely breathe.”

Another truth, one that Anthony had been too ashamed to admit. To forget one’s father when they were alive is one thing. To do so when he was dead was another thing entirely.

Y/N’s eyes could only be described as kind. “Did you know that a person dies twice. Once, when they are well and truly buried. The second is the last time their names are ever mentioned.“

This time, it was Anthony’s turn to look at his wife in sarcasm. “This is not the reassurance you think it to be.”

But she simply gave an indulgent grin before her eyes turned serious. “I mean to say that I will never let you forget him. I will say your father’s name everyday, if I must. And one day, I will teach our children to do the same. And they will teach their children, and their children will teach their children. Edmund Bridgerton will not be forgotten under my watch.”

His heart swelled with love. It was a lofty declaration but Y/N was never one to make vows lightly. She would do it too. Y/N was relentless in the pursuit of her goals and once she set her mind on something, she did it no matter what. It’s one of Anthony’s favorite things about her and the reason why he fell in love with her in the first place.

He pressed his lips on hers. Kisses with Y/N always felt like coming alive, like an empty house suddenly having new tenants. She felt like the cool spring air turning into the summer breeze. She felt like hope and joy all at once.

When he pulled away from her, her lips were swollen, eyes twinkling. He would never take a life with her for granted, and so when he spoke, his words came from that little space in his heart reserved for Y/N that no longer trembled at the sight of death. “When I die, I shall have your name carved into my bones”

She looked at him with skepticism. “Your bones?”

“One day, in the very distant future, when my grave is found and my tombstone is missing, they will see my bones but they will say your name. I will allow the world to kill me twice but I will not let it do the same to you.”

Her eyes gleamed silver, a joyful grin pulling at her lips.

There was no declaration of love more serious, more profound, than that. For the woman who taught him to live in spite of his fear, who taught him to love because of it, he would embrace death with open arms, if only so he could meet his wife’s soul once more. Because he was certain of his need for it, as certain as his need to draw breath every morning.

They were kismet, in this life and the next.