#benophie smut

[silverhallow]

Accidents Happen

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

summary: Sophie and Benedict are roommates and when Benedict accidentally walks in on a rather private moment things get awkward between them until Benedict decides to act

warnings: masturbation, accidental voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, sofa sex, woman on top, teasing,

word count: 5012 words

author's note: this is just smut, no one asked for it but it’s roommates to lovers and my muse fancied writing it so I hope you enjoy it. It’s only going to be on here it’s not going on ao3.

Sophie had only been living with Benedict for four months, two weeks and three days when he walked in on her masturbating. He'd originally left with an overnight bag swinging from his arm and a casual comment thrown over his shoulder to let her know he was heading back to his mother’s for the weekend.

Not even ten minutes after he walked out the door she stripped down to her vest top and knickers, feeling an urgent need to relieve some of the tension that being around him regularly caused.

Everything about Benedict made him the perfect housemate, except for the fact that he was gorgeous. That had proven to be a distraction. His eyes and hair were a blue that made her want to get lost in them, along his addiction to rowing, combined with his job as a photographer and artist, helped maintain a long lean body. The playful way he had about him, from his sense of humour to his relaxed personality, pushed all the right buttons, and far more often than she wanted to admit.

She'd removed her bra and sat cross-legged on the sofa with a movie playing on TV for inspiration. Just as she really started getting into it, one hand inside her knickers and the other cupping the breast she'd tugged her top down to expose, Benedict barged into the flat rambling about having forgotten something.

He stopped mid-sentence and stared, his mouth opened, completely shocked as amusement filled his bright blue eyes.

Sophie seemed to recover first and screamed, "Oh my God, Oh, my God! Get out! Close your eyes! Stay there! Fuck! Just Fuck!" She scrambled to pull up her top and clamped her legs together, throwing the remote at him as a distraction while she sprinted from the room, mortified beyond belief.

Embarrassment swept over her again at the memory and she wondered for about the hundredth time whether she'd ever get over it, whether she needed to move out and just avoid him completely for the rest of her life.

She had to admit that she was lucky that she hadn't been calling out his name at the time. If he'd turned up a few seconds later it would have been a completely different story and she’d probably have left the country.

She sipped her glass of wine and stirred the sauce bubbling in the pot on the stove. It was already after seven. He'd be home any minute now.

Her exhibitionist moment had become that elephant in the room no one dared speak about but it was only a matter of time before he cracked and brought up the subject.

Since coming home from his weekend away a week ago he kept sending her amused glaces, seemed to confirm her hunch, the only reason he held back from talking about it was because it made her uncomfortable, it was making her squirm. This whole situation was entertaining for him.

Sophie heard the front door open and close and felt her heart hammering, she knew his routine, he usually headed down the hall to get rid of his art gear or his camera which ever he’d been using that day before he came looking for dinner. She took the pot of sauce off the hob and started to dish up.

Moments later he entered the kitchen, sending her a grin while he strolled across the tiled floor barefoot. She just knew every time he looked at her now he pictured that scene all over again.

"Hey," he said. He’d changed into a pair of shorts and a tight white t-shirt, showing his muscles off and making Sophie want to cry.

"Hi." Sophie smiled and met his eyes briefly. "Dinner's almost ready if you want to set the table."

She hated the way he made her feel, the way his chestnut hair gleamed almost red under the lights. He always looked so healthy and full of life while she felt like she was almost on the sickly side of skinny with mostly unremarkable features. Her only saving grace was a plump mouth tha, according to her last boyfriend, made her look like a pin up model when she wore red lipstick and a pair of breasts that were far too big for her frame.

Her job as a writer meant she sometimes worked from home so she'd thrown on an old grey t-shirt and black leggings this morning. Her feet were bare and her dark-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. A butterfly clip just barely held her messy blonde bun together at the back of her head. She felt like a complete tramp compared to Benedict.

When they were both sitting in the dining room near the window Sophie was barely paying attention as she speared a piece of chicken and shoved it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, then quickly replaced it with another to avoid having to talk to him. She figured she’d speed eat like she had done for the last few nights and she’d disappear back into her room.

She wanted things to return to normal between them, that they could go back to sharing their flirty ways, teasing and having fun together. They'd clicked from the moment they met when she was desperate for a place to live and Kate had known Benedict needed a roommate and someone to help cook for him.

But now it was just awkward and the fault lay entirely with her, he hadn't changed a bit, she’d been the cause of the change in their dynamic.

Her eyes remained directed at her plate, determined to get through the meal without speaking to him. It was only when Benedict let out a snort of amusement that she raised her head and looked at him.

"It's natural, you know," he said, his gaze roamed her face, taking everything inch of her in. "To want to do it, I mean. Everyone does it."

Sophie closed her eyes. "I don't want to talk about this, Ben."

"I know."

She opened her eyes and made herself look at him, incredulous that he was bringing it up. "Then why are you bringing it up?"

"Because we need to talk about it." He balanced his fork on the edge of his plate. "This is serious, the tension around here's putting me off my food, it was bad before Sophie but this… it’s getting ridiculous."

Can't we just pretend it never happened?" she asked hopelessly.

"Sophie, it did happen and it's not a big deal. You're the one that is turning it into one."

Her eyes widened in disbelief, "That's easy for you to say. How would you feel if I walked in on you…” she paused for a moment before continuing “you know… pleasuring yourself?"

"I don't know because it's never happened to me. I always go somewhere private to...pleasure myself." Sophie could hear the humour in his tone and wanted to cry. "I've never set myself up on the joint sofa before and just gone for it."

Oh, my God. If the humiliation at hearing his words wasn't enough now she had the image of him all aroused to contend with, too, this really was hell.

Sophie pushed her plate away feeling physically sick and started to bang her forehead gently against the table. "I'm just going to bang my head here until I knock myself out, okay? Then maybe i’ll wake up and this was just some horrible nightmare."

"Oh come on Soph." His amusement only made the situation that much worse and honestly she was questioning why couldn't she be the mature one here? The one to just talk about it and clear the air and make things right. She was supposed to be the grown up one in this flat.

Sophie had her eyes closed but she heard the chair legs scraping against the floor then felt his hand wrapped around her upper arm. He tugged her reluctantly into a standing position, she knew he wanted to talk about it rather than eat his dinner and given she’d made one of his favourites in an attempt to distract her, made her realise just how determined he was to fix this problem.

She opened her eyes and looked up to stare up at him, blown away by the jolt of awareness she experienced, how close they were, how she could see the little flecks of light blue in his eyes, the black of his eyes seemed to smoulder.

"Why does it bother you so much?" he asked as his brows pulled together as he studied her, curious as to why this was really bothering her so much. Hoping that it meant what he hoped it would.

"Is it really that hard to understand? You saw me with my hand in my… you know…, Benedict. You saw my boobs, too." She turned her head and her entire body as she stared out the window, wishing she could be anywhere other than here.

She didn’t want to be reliving and talking about the most embarrassing moment in her entire life.

“I only saw one boob," he corrected. "Albeit, a very...very nice one."

Her eyes flicked back to his eyes to check whether he was making fun of her but his compliment appeared to be sincere and she felt herself flush, "Thank you," she said.

"No, thank you."

A reluctant smile appeared on her lips, the compliment had caught her off guard and made her realise that she should have talked about it with him when it actually happened instead of leaving it to him to address the issue. It would have been a lot easier and possibly a lot less painful.

"It just feels like I'm at a disadvantage. You saw me during a very private moment. Which I know you think it's funny but I don't like you having that over me."

His mouth turned up at one corner, a smirk crossing his lips, playful and teasing as he asked "You want me to wank off in front of you to make things even?"

Her stomach fluttered at the thought, she felt herself growing wet at the thought of it even if he was joking to lighten the mood, she went to open her mouth, the word she knew what she wanted to utter, but all that came out was “erm….” as she gave a tentative and embarrassed smile

Benedict let out a bark of laughter, “I can't believe it. You actually want me to wank off in front of you”

Sophie kept her eyes on him and her mouth shut, waiting not wanting to give into her baser urges to herself, she refused to get herself in any deeper without some indication that he felt even a tiny portion of the attraction that tormented her on a daily basis.

He watched her and the humour slowly slipped from his expression, his eyes burned with an intensity that made her want to squirm where she stood, silence stretched between them, growing unbearable and almost tangible.

The silence stretched on and the strain between them grew until it eventually became unbearable. His gaze dropped to her breasts as they lifted and fell beneath her vest. When his eyes met hers again the intensity in them left her stunned. "If we're doing this I'll need some inspiration."

Her breath seemed to catch as her pulse raced. "Like...what?" She could barely get the words out as her body seemed to fizz.

"You’re a writer…Use your imagination." He smirked, taking her wrist and led her into the living room towards the two oversized leather sofas, the scene of her humiliation. He took her over to the coffee table and urged her to sit on the edge as he positioned himself on the exact same sofa that she’d been on and settled himself opposite her and relaxed and he raised his brow, "When this is over, so is all the awkwardness between us. I want the old Sophie back, I want us to go back to the way we were okay?."

She swallowed, she had no idea if he intended to go through with this, or if he was teasing her, waiting for the right moment to burst into laughter. If it had been any other Bridgerton, she’d have been assuming this was a set up but there was a heat in his eyes, that made her feel like this was for real. "Okay” she swallowed, knowing he was waiting expectantly for her to do something so just to be safe, she reached up to tug at the clip holding her hair in place. She pulled it free and her long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and she tossed it side to side. "Does that inspire you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Benedict smirked and let out an amused breath, "You're beautiful Soph but No, I'm going to need more."

She hid her little smile of happiness at his words, at the warmth they encouraged inside her. Sophie pinched the temple of her glasses and went to take them off but he reached out quickly and stopped her "Leave 'em on," he said. “please…”

So he liked her in her glasses? That was interesting. She nibbled her lower lip, wondering how far to go, where to go next. She looked at him, she could see affection and a tenderness that filled her heart with happiness and he looked at her like she was some sort of goddess, wanting her to keep going. He just sat there patiently waiting, his hands resting on his knees while his gaze swept over her, helping her relax.

He wasn't pushing her or teasing her so she decided to take the next step, to stop being so afraid that he was going to laugh at her.

Sophie held her breath, steeling her nerves and gripping the hem of her vest, dragging it over her torso. The vest dropped from her slackened fingertips and she sat before him wearing only her blue lace bra and black leggings, an intense longing spread through her as she watched him watching her, the fire in his eyes almost burning her.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said.

She heard the huskiness in his voice and shivers tickled the surface of her skin. Before she could change her mind Sophie stood up and made quick work of removing her leggings. "I seem to be the only one who's actually doing anything."

She sat back down in her matching blue thong, gripping the edge of the table to keep her trembling fingers steady. "Don't you have a job to do?"

His mouth quivered with the smile she knew and loved. "Why don't you just tell me you want to see my cock?"

Desire swelled inside her, crashing in the pit of her stomach, making her feel as if she'd just lost her footing. She met his eyes and in a voice that had turned surprisingly breathy she said, "I really want to see your cock."

Benedict swallowed and he wanted to groan, wanting to throw her onto the sofa and have his way with her as he replied, "Keep that up and you'll be doing a lot more than looking."

He grabbed his top and leaned forward, drawing it over his head to reveal his entire upper body to her for the first time and Sophie nearly gasped. He'd never been one for strutting around the apartment half-naked and she regretted that the moment she set eyes on his bare chest.

"Wow." She felt a sudden urge to run her tongue over his abs. "You've got an incredible body, but I still don't see your...you know."

He chuckled and it thrilled her that they could find time to laugh despite the sensual nature of the moment. "You're a little eager, aren't you? Been a while?"

"Ages." she replied as she threw the last of her courage into the wind and reached behind her to the clasp on her bra. Sophie flicked it open and drew the straps down her arms until they settled at her bent elbows. She kept the cups in place with her hands and sent him an expectant look.

The idea of baring herself to him in this way made her heart race. He'd already told her he liked what he saw when he caught her here on the sofa a week ago but that wasn't the problem. It was her being almost naked and sitting just across from him while he was still covered up and she had to drag in a steadying breath.

He grinned and lifted his hips, shoving at the waistbands of both his shorts and underwear. He lowered them at the same time, stopping just before he got to the good stuff. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

She watched the ridges in his stomach contract and her mouth went dry. She really wasn't sure of anything right now and decided to play coy and smirked, "I won't be the one handling it, but I'm sure I'll enjoy watching."

He huffed out a laugh and his thumbs stayed tucked in the top of his shorts, teasing her with the skin he had on display and the mystery of what remained hidden. "There's only one problem here," he said.

She clutched her loosened bra to her breasts. "And what would that be?"

He met her eyes. "I didn't get to see you cum."

Her cheeks flushed and a quick thrill ran through her. She knew exactly what he was getting at; she'd have to be content with an unfinished show from him or join in so they could reach that peak together.

The thought of him in that moment, watching that look come over his face, she didn't want to miss out on seeing it for real, if this was her only chance at that, she had to take it. "You want to watch me?"

He gave her a wicked smile. "I'd rather make you come than sit back and watch, but I'll take whatever I can get."

Her heart slowed to a heavy thud and her mouth fell open "What?"

Benedict shook his head and laughed. "So pretty, yet so dense," he teased. "What do you think all the flirting has been about?"

"I just thought… I thought you flirted with all women like that." Knowing she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion made her happier than she'd thought possible. "You want to have sex with me?" Sophie narrowed her green eyes, staring at him. He'd better not be joking, this might actually kill her with mortification if he was.

"Hmm, no." His gaze travelled over her, pausing at her mouth before moving slowly down her body, taking her in, hungrily, greedily, knowing he could stare at her forever and never take her all in until he finally looked her in the eyes. "Having sex sounds so clinical. I want to fuck you."

She let out the breath she'd been holding, a little gasp of shock and pleasure as a surge of something completely and utterly carnal took hold of her, knowing "I didn't know," she said breathlessly. "I mean, look at you...and...look at me."

He frowned, appearing annoyed by that, as if he couldn't understand why she felt so out of her depth when it came to his physical appeal. "If you don't shut up and come over here I'm going to start wondering why I'm so hopelessly attracted to you."

She couldn't catch her breath. Her fingers tightened around the delicate material of her bra as she took it from her breasts and let it fall to the floor. Sophie shook her head slowly. "I still want to watch you," she heard herself saying.

His gaze dropped to her bare breasts and his jaw clenched as he fought back a groan. "Better lose the thong, then."

The expression on his face made her want to kiss him. A rush of need swept through her. Her nipples tightened into sensitive buds. She pushed herself off the coffee table and slipped her fingers into the waistband of her thong. Benedict's eyes followed her every movement and as she lowered the last offending garment he pushed his shorts and boxers down his thighs.

She stepped from her underwear just as he revealed his cock, inch by delectable inch. Her pulse raced. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. It was already hard and now she'd just found somewhere else on his body that she wanted to lick.

He kicked his shorts free as Sophie sat back down on the table. She perched on the edge, torn between the need to climb over him and straddle his lap or keep her distance for a better view.

"Ladies first," he said as a muscle twitched in his jaw. His eyes burned with need. She'd never seen this side of him before. Desperate, needy.

With a daring and boldness she didn’t know she possessed she lifted her feet, resting them on the side of the coffee table, while she slowly, slowly parted her knees. One hand reached behind her, her palm flattening against the table top for support. The other dipped between her thighs to tease her damp folds. Moisture coated her fingertips. She sighed, wanting to tip her head back but unwilling to lose sight of him for a second.

Benedict groaned and grabbed hold of his cock, stroking the thick, hard length as he watched her. His eyes slid over every part of her, from her face to her breasts, dropping between her legs like a physical caress. The veins in the back of his hand stood out. The way his fingers gripped his erection made her own move faster over her slick pussy.

She wanted his hands on her, all over her. She wanted to feel the damp heat of his mouth as it travelled across her skin, the rigid length of him as it sank inside her.

"I was thinking about you," she said, struggling to put the words together. "When you walked in on me, I mean." Her fingers slid over her clit, massaging the swollen bud while her gaze meshed with his. She hit a sensitive spot and closed her eyes briefly, swallowing a moan. "I always think about you."

"Sophie." She opened her eyes at the sound of her name. He let out a heavy breath that bordered on a groan, working his cock with increasing speed. The head glistened with moisture. She imagined lapping at it with the tip of her tongue. "Come here…. I want you."

His words gave her a head rush. She drew her legs together and warmth pulsed between her thighs as she rose from her position on the table. She took the two steps that lay between them, leaning over him to bring her mouth into close contact with his. He reached up with one hand and filled his palm with her flesh, massaging her breast, teasing her nipple while his lips brushed hers in a heated soul consuming kiss.

Sophie sighed and climbed over him, hovering with her legs spread either side of his thighs. She clasped her hand around his, encouraging him to keep stroking his cock. He groaned and pressed his mouth to hers, taking control, guiding the kiss. He took it deeper, drawing it out with slow sweeps of his tongue, soft nibbles of his lips.

He thumbed her nipple as a whimper sounded in her throat and her hand skated over her belly to delve back between her thighs. She found her wetness, teasing her clit once more.

With a moan she began to rock her hips to meet the firm glide of her fingertips. The slick head of his cock bumped against her knuckles as they both pleasured themselves.

Her control faltered and she kissed him harder, thrusting her tongue against his as her desire grew. Her hips jerked. She broke the kiss, her breaths coming heavily as she whispered, "Your cock...I want to ride it."

He growled and tugged harder at his thick length, using his free hand to grab a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. "Cum for me first," he said, "then it's all yours..." He used his grip on her hair to hold her right there and crushed his lips to hers.

His tongue plunged into her mouth. A wanton moan tore from her and she rubbed her clit, massaging, teasing...pushing herself closer to the edge. Her eyes closed tightly, her only focus to hit her peak. She needed him inside her.

She needed him like she never needed another in her life. His hard, wet cock kept sliding against the back of her hand, taunting her, urging her on.

He seemed to sense her impending release. Either that or he was close himself. His mouth grew more demanding, his groans more frequent. Sophie's fingertips increased pressure on her clit, slipping back and forth. Her other hand cupped the back of his neck, holding on. Her belly tensed and her hips thrust.

His mouth roamed over hers, his tongue caressed. It only increased her desire, her need for him. His hand in her hair, his body beneath her, she wanted him so much.

Sophie pulled her mouth free to drag in a shaky breath before her forehead rested against his, their eyes meeting before she cried out his name as she began shuddering. It flowed through her in a surge of complete bliss. Her moan, when it came, was throaty and full of pleasure. Her fingers kept rubbing, her hips jerking.

While the final tremors still shook her body Benedict released her hair and clasped her hips and without a warning, knowing how badly they both needed it, he shoved his cock inside her, pulling her down to deepen the connection causing her to scream with pleasure. He filled her, harsh, fast. Her wet fingers dug into his shoulder, her other hand clutched his hair.

His deep groan against her throat made her shiver. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and fucked her hard. Sophie held on, turning her head to press her lips to his temple. Her breasts jolted against his chest. Her stomach quivered as the need built inside her all over again.

His arm tightened around her and he lifted her, still connected with him, lowering her onto her back on the sofa. He rested on one elbow, using his other hand to grasp her arse as he took her even harder. His cock plunged inside her, his hips smacking hers.

Sweat-slicked skin met sweat-slicked skin, his chest brushed against her taut nipples.

Benedict looked into her eyes, a glint of something wild in his gaze. His mouth lifted in a half-smile. "You're so fucking beautiful," he said.

Sophie clenched her thighs around him, linking her ankles at the base of his spine. "Shut up and make me cum."

He nuzzled her throat and chuckled. Damned if the sound didn't make a shiver pass right through her. His pace increased, growing in intensity until she found herself having a brand new appreciation for athletic men.

She met his thrusts with her bucking hips, tipping her head back and biting her lip. She felt it coming, the throb beginning between her thighs. Benedict's teeth grazed her throat and it was all she needed to give her that final push. Sophie gripped his shoulders and let out a hoarse moan, writhing beneath him. She was still so sensitive from the last effort that she wanted to pull away from him and get closer all at the same time.

Her release only spurred him on. Benedict's fingers dug into the flesh of her arse, pulling her toward his thrusts. His mouth travelled across her collarbone, moving up to her jaw. He rested his lips there, his warm breaths whispering her name over and over as he reached his peak. Sophie held on, bracing herself as he gave a couple of final, forceful thrusts, letting out a loud roar of her name as he came inside her.

She hugged him, her arms and thighs wrapping around him to keep him close. He relaxed against her, his heart thudding hard, his breaths wrenching from him.

Her eyes drifted closed and a smile claimed her features. She relished in the weight of him pressing against her. She couldn't believe how much had changed between them in such a short space of time. From the awkwardness this morning to this...

Sophie let out a trembling breath and pressed her cheek to his, closing her eyes to take it all in, committing the moment to her memory.

A short while later Benedict stirred against her and lifted his head. "Hi." He smiled, his eyes heavy-lidded as he lowered his mouth to give her a long, lazy kiss. She lifted her arms above her head, stretching leisurely beneath him and sighing as his lips moved over hers.

He gave her one final soft kiss and pulled back to look her over. "We're going to have to come up with some arrangement here… because I need to do this again."

Sophie lowered her arms, hugging his neck as she squeezed her thighs around him. He was still inside her and judging by that look on his face he'd be hard again in no time. "Really? You want to do it again, huh?" She could barely keep the pleasure from her voice.

"Yeah." He slipped his hand over her breast, massaging her flesh. "We were in such a hurry I neglected these glorious breasts. I need to make up for that oversight." Her breath caught and her hips lifted beneath him. He smiled. "Are you okay with that?" He dipped his head to draw her nipple into his mouth.

Sophie let out a sound that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a laugh or a moan. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Palace

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett Rated: 18+, explicit sexual content Word count: 3.6k

Summary: Benedict makes Sophie’s first royal event one to remember.

Author’s Note: Happy Queen Charlotte release day! Here’s some smut to celebrate 😜 No spoilers for the show in this fic, just some royal-adjacent horny nonsense. This is also my belated birthday gift to @queen-of-the-misfit-toys Enjoy our boy and his talented hands, my dear ��

Sophie needed a moment to breathe. Between the glare of the sun, the tightness of her stays and the dizzying array of new faces, her head was beginning to spin. Happily, the reception party was spread across both the gardens and two floors of St. James’s Palace, offering plenty of quiet corners where she could rest. Leaving Benedict in conversation with Anthony, she picked her way up to a room on the second floor. Despite its towering ceilings and the endless stretches of halls that winged away from its massive doors, the tapestries within made it feel marginally warmer than the throne and ballrooms below. A bouquet of purple blooms perched on a low table in front of the windows and she stood by it, trying to steady herself as she watched the members of court mingle in the gardens.

It was Hyacinth’s presentation day, but Benedict had wasted no opportunity to remind Sophie that it served as her presentation too. The first year of their marriage had been spent blissfully in the countryside but now she and the whole of the Bridgerton clan had agreed that it was time for her to appear in the London season. Everyone was well rehearsed in Sophie’s backstory if need be. The explanation that she was a distant cousin of the late Earl of Penwood had been carefully worded by Anthony and Violet. All members of the family were instructed to alert them if anyone probed too insistently. They all hoped it wouldn’t cause too much speculation for the second-born Bridgerton son to reemerge from a long absence with a wife in tow, but the ton were fickle and always desperate for gossip.

The morning ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Hyacinth had walked serenely to the Queen, though her family could tell she was fighting to suppress giggles the entire time. Sophie had managed to blend into the sea of ladies in ivory dresses with no one taking notice of her until the reception party began in the garden. Anthony had circled her like a hawk, glowering more than usual at each person she and Benedict spoke to and he only moved away when the attendees queued to greet the Queen. Sophie was buzzing with anxiety, her mind roaring as Benedict guided her forward and introduced her. Somehow she had remembered to curtsy properly and to smile. She had said something that made the Queen laugh but couldn’t remember what, then she had turned away, dazed. Benedict brought her back to herself with a tight squeeze of her hand and an encouraging smile before they separated to mingle.

Now the enormity of the day was weighing on her and Sophie needed this reprieve. How she found herself here, barely a year after selling her hair to a wigmaker and cleaning out chamberpots, was still a turn of events she couldn’t fully believe. As she leaned against the table and enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers, Benedict entered the room behind her. She knew it was him even before the press of warm lips against her neck. She could always sense when he was nearby, attuned to him like the change in pressure before a storm. Her skin would prickle and her mind would calm, steadied by the proximity of her anchor in this new life.

His hands banded around her waist as he pressed himself to her back, murmuring into the slope of her shoulder. “What do you think, my love? Your first royal event.”

Sophie smiled, grateful for the familiar comfort of his arms. “It is breathtaking. I could never have dreamed I would find myself here. Introduced to the Queen of England. Do you think she believed our story? Do you think she knows I don’t really belong?”

Benedict gently turned her chin back to face him with a gloved hand. His brow was creased. “You do belong here. As much as anyone. You are my wife and the daughter of an Earl. I never want you doubting yourself.” His insistent tone reverberated into her back, leaving no space for her heart or mind to argue. “I think she believed us but even if she didn’t, she clearly doesn’t care. You fit in here. Somehow, you manage to fit perfectly everywhere.” The fingers on her chin moved to stroke her cheek. “In our little country cottage, or in these grand halls, looking like a veritable princess.”

He pressed another kiss to her lips and she sank against him, fighting the tears that his words stirred within her.

“I love you so much, Benedict,” she whispered. “You’ll never know how much.”

He tightened his hold, hands splaying across her ribs. “And I love you, darling. You are my entire heart. My whole world.” He paused and let his eyes stray across her decolletage, highly pronounced thanks to the incomparable structure of her court dress. “This may be the most striking dress I’ve ever seen you in. I can’t deny that it has sent my mind in all kinds of…enticing directions.”

The crooked grin that followed was a warning shot.

Sophie sighed, turning back to the windows. “Ben, we really can’t.”

“We won’t.” His mock indignation was completely undermined by the low pitch his voice sank into. His hands traced down to grasp her hips and he pressed himself firmly into her backside, pinning her between him and the table. His words ghosted warm next to her ear, a devastating purr. “We aren’t doing anything. We are just standing, a husband and wife, quietly taking in the view.” 

That’s when he pushed her hips forward ever so slightly, nearly imperceptible, but enough for her to realize that the table was at precisely the right height to strike her where sensation would bloom. She let out a small gasp.

Undeterred, Benedict continued. “We are surveying the grounds…” He nudged her against the table edge again. “The people.” Again.

Sophie took a shuddering breath, already knowing she would be helpless against the tingling wave he was building within her. Sometimes she wondered if she had married the devil himself. How dare he act so brazenly in public and in a royal palace no less? But she knew, of course, that it was precisely within Benedict Bridgerton’s nature to do such a thing. And God help her, it was one of the reasons she was so hopelessly in love with him. 

Perhaps they could do this undetected. The doors behind them were too heavy to close and they could be seen by anyone passing in the hall, but this corner of the upper floor seemed deserted. And if they were, as Benedict said, just a husband and wife standing by the window, rocking with such small movements, perhaps no one would know what was happening even if they were discovered. Benedict understood her body so well and was rubbing her into the table at such a precise angle, she knew she could finish quickly. A small burst of pleasure would no doubt help ease her nerves, which she surmised was part of his motivation.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure. “They are stunning.”

“Yes, they are.” He rumbled low in her ear, his hands tight on her hips, guiding her back and forth, grinding her into the sloped angle of the wood. “The peacocks in particular are an excellent touch, are they not?” With that, he surged his hips into her and Sophie groaned quietly at the stiff length she felt pressing into the cleft of her bottom. 

“Yes…” She gasped, eyes fluttering closed as all her focus narrowed to the heat between her thighs and the crush of him behind her.

“Keep your eyes on everyone out there.” Benedict tutted and she obeyed, bracing herself with palms pressed into the tabletop and gaze locked on the oblivious crowds below. 

He had found a steady rhythm, pushing her forward with his body and hands, thrusting her against the table with small movements that sent spikes of desire shooting through her blood. Over and over with mechanical precision he maneuvered her in chasing pleasure, the slight quiver of the flowers beside them the only indicator to any passersby that something untoward was happening. 

Benedict’s tone was quiet but with an undeniably gruff edge. “I want you to remember this moment. That you are in a palace, looking down on all the ton. You are regal Sophie. You were so marvelous speaking to Her Majesty. I was so proud to show her that I had married the most gorgeous woman in England. A woman that far outshines any of her Diamonds. With more strength and fortitude than they could ever muster. She may be the Queen, but I am certainly the richer of us both.”

Sophie gripped the table and stared, entranced as Benedict set her body and mind alight. His potent blend of arousal and affirmation drilled home the truth of his words. She did belong. She was special. Powerful even. A Bridgerton with a handsome husband on her arm and a formidable family to support her. She wore the same fine fabrics as the ladies in the sunlit hedgerows below and had received the same invitation to be feted by the Queen herself. Sophie Beckett the maid was no longer. Sophia Bridgerton had taken her place and was being ravished in a palace above the heads of the ton by a man they all respected and desired.

When his mouth opened hot on her neck to graze it with his teeth Sophie moaned aloud, unable to restrain herself. He had worked her into a state, humming with arousal, her womanhood engorged and soaking. She was burning and lightheaded and knew that she had more than the strictures of her dress to blame. While his movements made the wave of lust swell within her body, his words made her longing for him swell within her heart. She needed his mouth on hers, his skin on hers. It was the only way she would crest the wave and in that moment, everything else could be damned.

“Ben,” She spun around to face him and crashed her mouth to his, drinking in the taste of him as she tugged off his gloves. He let her do as she wished, sliding his tongue to map the circumference of her lips as she pulled his hand up and under her skirt. Caged though her breasts and consequently her lungs may be, her lower undergarments were still easy to bypass and Sophie was aching for her husband’s fingers.

Benedict paused, face lighting with mischief as he gave her a lopsided smile. “Anyone could see us.” 

As if confirming her commitment to impropriety, Sophie smirked and hopped backward to sit on the table, wrapping her arms across his broad shoulders. “Good. Let them watch.”

With something like a snarl, his eyes darkened and he dipped his head to suck at the delicate skin beneath her ear. The hand under her skirt began to quest through the layers of fabric. “You hoping to make them jealous?”

“Yes,” She breathed, leaning her head back and reveling in the pattern he traced with his tongue.

“You want them all to see you getting finger fucked at their stuffy soiree?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his fingers found her wet heat and brushed gently over her opening.

“Desperately,” She shuddered, breathing heavier as she shot another glance out the window. “I want them to know that I’m yours.”

With no preamble Benedict covered her throbbing center with the whole of his hand, cupping her possessively. He pulled back to meet her eyes. Gone was the sweet, gentle artist, replaced by an imposing seducer who looked about ready to devour her.

“This is mine is it then, darling?” He smiled wolfishly.

“Yes,” Sophie gaped, heart pounding. Only once she confirmed it did his hand start moving, fingers sliding through the slickness he had caused as his palm ground against her pubic bone, giving her the pressure she loved. 

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand gently around her neck. Not hard enough to restrict her breath, just enough to hold her in place. His thumb traced languidly over the ridges of her throat above the tiers of pearls that he had gifted her for the occasion.

“And those lips…” He bent and sucked on the lower one, nibbling it before pulling away. “They are mine?”

“Yes,” Sophie’s eyes closed, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. She was growing dizzy with the intensity of the moment. His dominating play made her giddy enough but to unleash it when they were in public and at risk of being caught…it made her lose her senses.

His hand beneath her skirts shifted, aligning the pad of his thumb on her swollen clit precisely where she had shown him she liked to be touched. Then he began rubbing in skillful circles. Two more fingers pressed inside her and slid firmly in and out, probing with clear intention. Sophie hissed, her stomach clenching like a fist, nails digging into his wrist. Her nerves began to sing, the wave rising under his ministrations. This was precisely what she needed.

Benedict trailed open-mouthed kisses over her exposed skin, licking along the neckline of her dress.

“The whole of this incredible woman. She is mine. And how she dazzles. In silks. In satins. In nothing at all. Am I not the luckiest man alive to be tasked with serving her? Pleasuring her.”  

His voice was dusky against her flesh and punctuated by her moan when he bit lightly into the swell of her breast. His long fingers continued to tease and swirl, pumping into her and coaxing her to release. Sophie felt her nipples harden as her body relented, lost to any way he wanted to command it, trusting him to bring her to heights she could never accomplish herself. She hooked her ankles around the back of his calves, pulling him closer between her thighs, needing the heat of him to mingle with the one he stoked in her. Clutching one another, they were nearly inert save for the talented movements of Benedict’s hand beneath her skirts. The only sounds in the room were the light rustle of fabric and Sophie’s small, pleasured breaths. 

Sophie clung to his wrist, the pounding blood in her ears drowning out every sense but touch. The expert flick of his thumb against her nerves that caused her stomach to knot delightfully. The glide of his reach inside her, petting the spots that made her clench and evoking memories of his cock and its steady pace that ratcheted her to delirium. All of it heightened by his hold on her neck, the ownership he claimed over the fluttering breaths he was forcing out of her. In these moments her body was his, because she knew that his heart would always be hers.

Benedict marveled at the beauty of his wife lost in the throes of pleasure, her lips swollen from kissing, her eyes hazy, fingers flexing each time he pressed against her sweetest spot, right under her clitoral hood. He reveled in her flushed skin and needy noises, the bobbing of her throat beneath his fingers. He would never tire of making her feel this way. In fact, he longed to draw it out, leave her breathless and screaming for release, soaking his hand as he made her come over and over until her knees faltered. But they didn’t have the luxury of time. So he focused his movements, small but incendiary, on the most sensitive parts of her. He grinned, noting how her hips had started to rock, pushing herself down onto his fingers as much as he was pushing up into her. He leaned to her ear and whispered. 

“That’s it. You’re beautiful, so beautiful my love.” His lips returned to her neck, nibbling around the elaborate necklace, his breath gusting hot across her skin. “I love to see you choked with my pearls.”

Her whole body stiffened, his words driving her higher. “I prefer your hands.” She rasped, managing to arch a coquettish brow. 

The responding gleam in his steely eyes was precisely what she had been hoping for. Spurred on, Benedict tightened his grip, starting to slightly constrict her windpipe as his fingers increased their speed and pressure, pounding into her and teasing her nub viciously.

“I’m glad to hear that, darling.” He growled. “You are radiant with all manner of things around your neck.” He sucked at her collarbone before moving back to her lips, kissing her between each honeyed word of praise. “Priceless. My wife. My queen.”

Sophie could hear how wet she was as he worked her sex relentlessly. The cadence of his fingers was making her delirious. The warm, delicious tingle radiating from his touch was flooding over her. She knew she was approaching the end. 

“Don’t…be treasonous…”

He chuckled darkly. “I can revere whomever I want to behind closed doors. Would you want that? For me to kneel before you tonight?”

Sophie’s eyes blazed, enticed by his offer. They had played that way before, Benedict submitting to her wishes, and it always set a fire in her belly. She envisioned him naked, kneeling before her on the floor of their bedroom, skin glowing in firelight that etched the outlines of his muscles and betrayed the leaking of his eager cock. She could hook her leg over his shoulder and command him to feast upon her until neither of them could breathe. She could sink her hands into the waves of his dark hair and press him into her body, riding him mercilessly to her bliss. 

It was this imagery that caused her to break, thighs quaking as she bucked against him. Benedict could feel her quiver inside. Throwing her head back, she started to moan his name but he cut her off quickly with a gentle squeeze of her throat.

“Shhh. Don’t scream my name or you’ll give us away.” His eyes were hungry as he continued rubbing her furiously, rocking his hand in and out of her. “Just come for me.” 

He felt her hold her breath, then the rippling spasms started to dance down the length of his fingers. She froze, rigid, gripping onto his wrist for dear life. 

“That’s it. Come all over my hand.” He goaded through gritted teeth. “Then we’re going to walk out of here as if you aren’t drenched.”

He coaxed more out of her, slowing and curling his strokes as the pulsing continued, fanning out through her body, causing her to jerk. Sophie’s mind floated as the wave washed over her, its epicenter under his fingertips.

Benedict released her throat and held her close in the breathless moments as she shuddered with aftershocks. He withdrew his other hand and Sophie opened her eyes to find him sucking decadently at his fingers, relishing her taste. Lightheaded, she gently palmed the prominent tent in his breeches.

“What about you?”

Benedict smirked. “If etiquette didn’t require me to be in breeches and hose, maybe. But I’ll show you when we get home what an ordeal they are to remove. Let’s just wait a moment, my love. I will be fine.”

She laughed, the room beginning to orient itself around her again, gravity falling back into place.

“Perhaps the dress code was established for precisely that reason.”

—

An hour later at the close of the reception, Benedict and Sophie were turning to walk out through the gardens when they halted at the sight of the Queen approaching, closely followed by her man Brimsley. Sophie’s mind began to whir. She had been so blissful in the wake of their rendezvous that guilt had not settled on her thoughts as it perhaps should have. But now, reminded of precisely whose home she had defiled, she was filled with shame and could only pray that Her Majesty didn’t know the scandalous truth.

Queen Charlotte strode to them directly and they stepped apart, inclining their heads as they bowed and curtsied deeply.

The Queen fixed her eyes on Benedict. “Mr. Bridgerton. So glad you could join us when I have seen you at so few of my events.” She pursed her lips. “Though, I’m sure you are busy with your work. My nephew Friedrich has commissioned you for his official portrait, has he not?”

A bit stunned, Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has, your Majesty. An honor that I gladly accepted.”

“Very good. I’ll wait for his assessment and then see if we cannot use another portraitist for my family.” Her eyes scanned him up and down, scrutinizing though he was not sure for what. With the quirk of a smile, she continued. “We are always looking for those with creativity and…discretion.”

Gobsmacked, Benedict’s face lit up as he bowed again. “Your Majesty.”

Before she departed, the Queen pivoted to Sophie with the same small, enigmatic smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Sophie nearly stumbled in her rush to curtsy again, overwhelmed by the entire exchange. Rising, she saw the Queen was gone but Brimsley had lingered and was staring at her pointedly. With a quick gesture he motioned toward her neckline. To her horror, she looked down to see bruising teeth marks on her breast peeking just above her bodice. She scrambled to conceal it and looked back at the Queen’s Man, blushing crimson. She did not know whether to feel relief or mortification as he shot her a wry smile, winked, then turned and caught up to the Queen, five paces behind as always.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[laremsworld]

Did you guys know that Benedict is totally his mummy‘s boy in the books?

He‘s the one caring for Violet the most - Anthony might‘ve been his daddy‘s boy, but Benedict is Violet‘s son through and through.

He‘s initially the first (and almost only) sibling who directly asks his mum about what to do about his feelings. The other ones more or less talk to another sibling first. He‘s the one who insists on naming his daughter after his mother - and by that time his daughter is born Daphne, Anthony, Colin and I think even Eloise already have daughters. He‘s the first one to think about it.

While all his other siblings kind of move out to places far away from home (I mean the girls don‘t really have choice though), his bachelor apartement is literally five minutes of walking away from his mum and he makes sure to check on his mother regularly. Even after marrying and moving to the countryside he‘s like „but don‘t worry Mother, you can and will stay with us as often as you want to.“

He showers here in compliments like „it is an honour to be your son“ and „thank you for everything. I truly love you.“

In the show Benedict didn‘t even had one moment or real conversation with Violet… they really didn‘t just switch Benedict and Colin‘s season, they did switch their characters, too. In the TV show it is Colin who is Violet‘s son.

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Why so Early?

Reimagining An Offer from a Gentleman #4

Synopsis: Benedict is hungry. Sophie is hungrier. What more is there to say? Or the first time Sophie takes matters into her own hands. Quite literally.

⚠️ SMUT SMUT SMUT? First time writing original smut. Is it smutty enough? Is this even a smut? I really don’t know. But this one is just cute and slutty. Or is it…? I’m spiraling. Hope you enjoy🥰

Post on AO3 from here!

Benedict felt quite dazed, lost in the afterglow of their lovemaking. But he knew he had to go again, with his newlywed wife laid elegantly naked before him, spread across his master bed like a forbidden fruit, ready to be devoured again. Sophie was still breathless and in raptures, not quite recovering from the sweet ecstasy Benedict had brought her to from their climax. But he knew that it wasn’t enough. Still feeling the intense heat of his body, his hands again wandered between her legs, wanting to taste more, ravish more.

More, more. Again Again.

After a rushed wedding and a small reception, Benedict and Sophie had turned straight back to Wiltshire, setting their way to my cottage. To avoid the rumors, he heard other people say, but Benedict was just happy to finally have Sophie all to himself. The last few days, he had hardly time to see her, with his mother and sisters hovering over her, dragging his to-be-wife across London shop after shop.

“Please, there’s no need to spend such fortune on me, Lady Bridgerton,” He heard Sophie whimper so many times as Benedict chuckled over his tea.

“Nonsense,” Violet had reassuringly replied every time. “You are already my daughter, my dear. You must have another dress for the reception. And you must call me Violet….”

But with the marital vows made(with floods of tears from Sophie, Benedict, Violet, and somehow Anthony) and the wedding cake finished (mostly by Colin), the two finally made their way to Wiltshire (despite angry tears from Hyacinth; how dare you take away my Sophie! I OBJECT to the marriage, Mother…”)The moment the carriage arrived in front of my cottage, Benedict had scooped Sophie off her seat and simply carried to his master bedroom, and settled her against the pillow and the sheets.

“Benedict!!” Sophie giggled as he nuzzled her neck, softly pushing her against the mattress.

“Do you have a problem, dear wife?”

“We have to greet Mrs. And Mr. Crabtree properly…” Her voice changed into a suppressed moan as Benedict nipped the edge of her ears. He slid his hands to her back, gently undoing the knots and the ribbons of her dress.

Buttons are so much easier, Benedict mindlessly thought as he skillfully pulled down her bodice, remembering the first time he had almost taken her down on the ground.

“But we greeted them at the door, my dear.”

“Benedict, I barely saw their faces!”

Satisfied with his handiwork (Sophie was now only in her chemise), he softly cupped her breasts over the thin fabric, his fingers softly teasing the tip of her bosom. He grinned as she mewled and squirmed under his touch, but he knew she still resisted to what would soon overflow.

“But Benedict, it’s disrespectful…”

She tugged his shirt in meaningless defiance, but of course, Benedict guilelessly removed his jacket and cravat; swiftly peeling off his shirt and onto the floor.

“But I’ll be disrespectful toward you, my dear.”

“I don’t feel disrespected at all, Benedict.”

“My dear, dear wife,” He whispered to her in his low seductive voice, which he knew would melt her in a puddle,

“It would be disrespectful to you if I didn’t fulfill my marital duties, is it not?”

It was the first night of their honeymoon, and as a husband should, he ravished her through and through, taking her down from front to back, sinking her into the sheets, sinking himself inside her warmth. With two years’ worth of dreaming in fantasy, of desperate craving, how many times he pounded inside her, it never seemed enough. Sophie was barely keeping up, the overwhelming sensation that fired inside her, the boundless hunger Benedict held was beyond her limits, beyond her imagination.

Although Benedict had taken her several times before the marriage, he had always been the sweet gentle lover, slowly guiding and leading her to pleasure and ecstacy. But in their marital bedroom, Benedict was like a man possessed, almost feral, desperate to mark her as his own. Sophie finally understood the depth of his appetite, the depth of his desire, the depth of his love towards her, and she tried her best to respond to his blazing devotion, but she could not think, or think at all. She could only but clutch tightly around his arms, bearly breathing between gasps and moans.

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

“Did I hurt you, Sophie?”

Sophie smiled softly as her husband asked her hesitantly with a slightly guilty look on his face. His fingers softly caressed her cheeks, and Sophie softly nuzzled her cheeks on his hands, enjoying his warmth.

“How could you ever hurt me, dear husband?”

“Did I go too rough on you?”

But Sophie laughed wholeheartedly, placing a small peck on his flushed cheeks.

“It was lovely, Benedict.”

Tired and breathless, but immensely satisfied, Ben softly wrapped his arms around his wife, cuddling her against her body. Finally finding the covers pooled around the foot of the bed, Benedict pulled them over their embraced bodies.

The woman in his dreams finally in his arms. Sophie Beckett, no, Sophie Bridgerton finally inside his embrace. Benedict smiled in contentment as he finally let his back rest against the sheets.

“I love you, Sophie.”

He softly whispered to her, placing a small kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too Benedict.”

At last, Benedict closed his eyes, feeling happier than he ever did before.

But he also did feel Sophie softly climbing on his thighs. He opened his eyes in surprise, and Benedict saw Sophie softly place her lips on his, timidly tickling the corner of his mouth, slightly hesitant about where it may lead. Benedict smiled softly, happiness bubbling up to him furthermore, enjoying the slightly tottering kisses Sophie was initiating. After all, he had always been the one who was stealing (and sometimes begging for) kisses, and he was pleasantly surprised by Sophie who had been so bashful from the beginning to initiate a kiss. But he was quite sleepy.

It was a perfect sweet kiss, and Benedict slowly closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, thinking how wonderful it is to sleep with the comfortable weight his wife of over his body, her smooth skin laid against his….

“Benedict,”

Benedict jerked awake, slightly lifting himself from the bedsheets as Sophie whispered his name breathlessly in his ear, her fingers softly running through his brow curls. His heart pounded as he saw the continuing flame in Sophie’s deep green eyes when he just managed to crack open his drowsy heavy eyes.

“My sweet, sweet, Benedict.”

Sophie cooed seductively as she put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even further. Try what he does to you, the wicked devil in her mind whispered to her. She softly trailed the edge of his lips with her tongue, thoroughly enjoying the sweet taste. Gently nipping his bottom lip with her mouth, her kisses moved from his chin to his jaw, and slowly moved to his neck, softly nuzzling his nape with her lips. Sandalwood and soap, the familiar smell seemed to fuel her fire even more.

Benedict groaned as Sophie placed a small kiss on the edge of his collarbone, her hands softly fondling his nipples. He softly snaked his arms around her waist, gently pushing her closer to him; encouraging her to continue the tender exploration Sophie was doing to his body, but he was, still a little sleepy.

So warm, so beautiful, Sophie thought as she ran her hands across his chiseled body, caressing the strong arms that held her tight, that loved and ravished her with all his might. Slowly, she let her hands wander lower and lower until they reached his thighs. She found herself shamelessly staring at his figure, the place she thought she would never experience in all her life.

I need to wake him up.

Her delicate fingers softly touched the tip of his manhood. His body jerked at her touch and she softly smiled, the power she had over his robust body was empowering, but she had learned from the past hours that this was not enough.

“Benedict”

Benedict could swear he saw her lick her lips ever so slightly as she whispered breathlessly,

“I want you…to get it up.”

Perhaps I have woken up the devil, he thought to himself, as she traced the outline of his length.

“Just once more, my love?”

The pure innocence in her tone, as if a little child were asking for another bite of chocolate. But the view in front of him was far from innocent, but right down erotic. Only white sheets gathered around her hips, Sophie was completely bare before him, glowing and shimmering under the moonlight. With her legs straddled over his thighs, her fingers softly caressing his heat, her face was flushed and breathless, her eyes burning with desire. Her presence alone would drive anyone to insanity; she was his Aphrodite, the goddess of love and lust, beauty and passion.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,

He found himself uttering those words under his breath, overcome with the sensation and the dreamlike scenery that was spread before his eyes,

“And I will pledge with mine;”

There was a soft smile on Sophie’s lips as she followed his voice. Ever the romantic, she softly thought.

“The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;”

Gently grinding herself against his thighs, she softly placed a small kiss on his heat. The soft stimulation she left choked him, leaving him panting, and breathless.

“But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.”

“Better than the kings of gods himself ?” Benedict tried to tease her newfound anticipation, trying to make a smirk, but he found himself gritting his teeth in a second, his hand tightly gripping the sheets of his bed as Sophie wrapped his manhood around her hands, slowly stroking his length.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,”

“Flesh stays no further reason but rising at thy name.”

“Sophie, please,”

“Did William Shakespeare compose of deceit?”

He wanted to reply, but he could only groan. The teasing grazings of her thumbs were agonizing, and he tilted his head against the pillow trying to find some kind of relief. She grinned somewhat mischievously.

“So much for men’s carnal lusts and appetites, isn’t it?”

“Please, just wait a moment, Sophie, I just need time to recover, no, I mean I can get it up, but it’s just that men need more time to…”

Benedict moaned as Sophie’s lips again teased his manhood, tenderly tracing his manhood with her tongue. Sophie softly smiled, feeling his hardness return against her lips.

“I need you, Benedict,” Sophie murmured breathlessly against his lips as she took his hand, placing them on her soft breasts, as her hip movements grew more erratic.

“Give me my sin again,”

All at once, Benedict realized that although he was a rather sturdy man, (and women in the past have praised/chastised his physical stamina), his vitality was nothing compared to his beautiful wife before him, who had spent a lifetime in manual labor, working from dawn to dusk.

While he liked to consider himself as a young man of thirty, Sophie was still two-and-twenty, finally letting herself sink in the carnal lust and appetite that Benedict had led her in, the place Sophie had relentlessly rejected and repressed for years. For the most heartbreaking reasons. She was learning the pleasures and the depth of her sexuality, and Benedict was more than welcome to assist. Sophie was finally letting it go, falling apart in front of his eyes.

And luckily, he was fully restored by this point.

Benedict softly placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her to his heat, a soft moan escaping from both lips as she sank herself into his arousal. He gently guided her hips forward and backward, leading to her sweet pleasure as Sophie gripped his neck.

“My heart, my body, is ever at your service, Sophie.”

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

“I’ve never thought I would want this so much.” Sophie quietly said as she rested her head against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around her body. It was so peaceful and quiet that the moment almost felt ethereal, as she softly traced the lines of his rib cage, and his warm hands gently brushing her dark blond curls.

“By this do you mean my coc…”

“No! No! No! I meant….well, yes, but…”

Benedict chuckled as he planted a soft kiss on her ears that had turned bright red at his tease.

“I’ve…I’ve always been so terrified of it.”

Sophie’s voice was soft, almost like a prayer.

“It always felt so sinful, the ……craving desire I felt toward you. That I was going to drown myself in carnal flames, the sin of bearing another tragedy.”

Benedict tightened his embrace around her body. He knew that her thin ankles, her blistered hands and the remaining scars were a testament to her tragic past, and there was nothing he could do to erase her horrific memory. But he held on to her tight, wanting her to know that he was there by her side, she would never be alone again.

“But being in your arms, I never felt so pure.”

Benedict couldn’t see her face, her forehead nudged on his chest, but he knew she was crying softly, feeling the warm tears against his body. And somehow, his vision was beginning to become blurry as well.

“Sophie, can I ask you something?”

His voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.

“Of course, my love.”

“Why did you let me take you down on the sofa that day? If you were so scared of it?”

Sophie fell into silence, deeply sinking in thought.

Perhaps he should never have asked her that question. Perhaps she was regretting it, and he was the one pushing her to the sin that she feared for her whole life…

“Because I knew that you loved me, you foolish man,”

Sophie looked up at him with the most radiant smile he had ever seen, her moss-green eyes still shimmering with tears,

“And I loved you too,”

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

Benedict knew that it was a beautiful morning. Although feeling the soft sunlight pouring through the window against his back, he was not quite ready to open his eyes, wanting to stay in a peaceful slumber for a little while. He yawned and reached out his arms, trying to hold his dear wife in his arms again. He wanted to feel her warmth, and a wicked part of his mind yearned for Sophie to calm the wicked hunger he felt between his legs…

But his hands only felt the coldness of the silk sheets.

Benedict jerked awake, a slight panic taking over all his emotions.

Was it all a dream? The wedding? The cakes? The tears? The lady in Silver? Sophie Beckett? Had he been dreaming the most wonderful dream in his bedroom in my cottage?

Benedict leaped off the bed, grabbing a robe from his bedside. He looked out from the windows to the grounds but there was nobody in sight. The guest bedroom was empty as well, the bed furnished perfectly without a trace of being used, and Benedict felt a feeling of dread become stronger and stronger. The sitting room, the dining room, the library, nowhere he could find his wife, and he could feel his soul slowly descending into madness.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, there is no need for you to be in the kitchen! I’m handling everything perfectly at this moment, without your assistance!”

Mrs. Crabtree’s exasperated cry echoed through the hallway.

Mrs. Bridgerton. Mrs. Bridgerton. Sophie Bridgerton.

Benedict repeated his housekeeper’s voice repeatedly, a sense of relief spreading across his body.

So it isn’t a dream after all.

…But why was she in the kitchen?

Benedict dashed through the hallway to the servant’s halls, the conversation between Mrs. Crabtree and his wife becoming more audible.

“Mrs. Crabtree, please just let me take this..”

“Mrs. Bridgerton, how many times do I have to tell you to go back to your bedroom? You are the lady of the house…”

“Please Mrs.Crabtree, call me Sophie, not Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Judging from the grumbled tone of Mrs. Crabtree, Benedict assumed that the exchange of conversation had been going on for quite a while. As Benedict finally reached the door, he found his wife and Mrs. Crabtree desperately fighting over a tea tray.

“Oh, good morning Benedict!”

Sophie’s smile was so energetically cheerful.

“Mrs. Crabtree had made us such a beautiful breakfast, Benedict. I woke up rather early, so I wanted to be some help to Mrs. Crabtree…”

“I tried to stop her,” Mrs. Crabtree sent an apologetic look at Benedict, “I’ve tried to tell her that she does not need to lift a finger in this household…”

“Mrs. Crabtree.”

Benedict cut Mrs. Crabtree’s voice, completely aware that he was being rather rude. But it was the morning right after his wedding night. Mrs. Crabtree would surely understand, wouldn’t she?

“Might I borrow Mrs. Bridgerton for a while? Better get my wife off your hair for a while, perhaps for a few hours?”

“I see no problem there, Mr. Bridgerton.”

And in that moment Benedict again picked Sophie off her feet, carrying her over his shoulder. Sophie simply shrieked, her view had turned completely upside down.

“Benedict! But the tea! And the eggs! Anf the bacon! I was rather hungry this morning….”

“Newlyweds,” Mrs. Crabree sighed as she listened to the rhythmic thumping and uncomfortable racket above them. But Mr. Crabtree didn’t miss the small smile that crept up on her lips.

#Writer’s Notes

Ben Johnson and William Shakespeare.

I truly love your poems and plays.

You guys are geniuses; the masteries of words.

My writings are trash compared to your most beautiful, exquisite verses.

But I really know you guys were just SLUTS

Respect to the greatest sluts in England.

[sophiebaek]

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

“Do you mind me asking about your personal life?” Sophie inquired. Benedict took a sip of his wine, “Only if I can ask about yours…”

OR

Benedict and Sophie meet again after some time apart.

Read more

Day 2 of Benophie week 2024: Second Chances

[captainbucky-yt]

"Don't You Remember"

— Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett (AU)

Chapter 17: a bridgerton's love [ ao3 ]

[ previous ] [ next ] [ masterpost ]

Chapter Summary: Benedict shows Sophie just how good he can help her feel.

Content Warning: Mature/Explicit/Smut. Minors DNI. M/F nudity. Hand jobs. Vaginal fingering/penetration. Oral fem receiving. Loss of virginity. Unprotected M/F intercourse (wrap it before you tap it guys). Minor praise kink. No pull out.

Taglist: @trenko-heart (if you'd like to be added, let me know)

Exert: (below cut)

Kisses pressed hotly across her chest before descending between her breasts. Through his lashes, Benedict watched Sophie’s eyes roll back and her mouth open as she panted. He had many thoughts of rushing straight to entering her— heavens knew how much the low tightness in his stomach was throbbing with want for her— but Sophie deserved all the pleasures that he had promised.

Her thighs brushed against his hips until her knees were up by his waist. Benedict sucked upon one breast and fondled the other, before continuing his descent. The artist within him screamed to worship her. For every curve in her body to be caressed and adorned with charcoal on paper.

“I will draw you like this, someday,” he said, his voice somewhat muffled by her skin.

Sophie whimpered a noise that he could not determine.

Benedict spread his knees on the bed and pushed back on his hands, bringing his mouth closer to where he wanted to go. Sophie’s legs fell apart, and he dragged his newly calloused fingertips up from her ankle of one, across the inner of her knee. He was left to watch the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the expansion of her ribs. His mind spun out what a glorious painting this view would make— her wanton body and her womanly sex just appearing on the canvas. For him.

Only for him.

“You are a goddess.” He planted his lips on her hip, swiped his tongue across her skin and blew gently on the mark he’d made.

“You are delusional,” Sophie muttered in response with a graceful laugh.

“Don’t argue it Soph.” His lips travelled further, to the inner of her thigh as Benedict repositioned himself. “I am the one touching you right now, and if I believe you are a goddess, then that is what you are.”

[fayes-fics]

Benedict: Regency Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Benedict: Modern | Anthony: Regency | Anthony: Modern

Updated September 13, 2024 Listed in ascending order of completion. All x reader unless specified otherwise

❦ smut | ✿ fluff/humour | ❥ angst | ⚣ threesome

Moments ❥ ✿ ❦  main story complete, occasional one-shots ongoing

Portrait  ✿ ❦

Innocence ❦

Double Bind ❦ ❥

Lessons ❦ ⚣ 

Kinktober 2022 Drabbles ❦

March 2023 Drabbles ✿ ❦

Kinktober 2023 Drabbles ❦

One-word Drabble Challenge ✿ ❦

One Word Challenge Blurbs ✿ ❥ ❦

Sonnet #29 ❦

Tell me (all the ways you missed me) ❦

Must we? ✿

I’m not drunk ✿

Fireworks ✿

No Good Advice ❦ ❥

Acting Up ❦

Lightening & Lilies ❦

Beg ❦

Hormones ✿

Swallow ❦

A Treat ❦ ✿

Mine ❦

Insatiable ❦ ✿

Challenge ❦

Breaking and Fixing ✿

Stitches ✿

A Work of Art ❦

Consequences ❦

Temptation ❦

Goodbye, Hello ❥ ✿

Safe ❥ ✿

Inspiration ❦

Blissful ❦ ✿

(Mis)behave ✿

Confessions ❥ ✿

A Birthday Treat ❦ ✿

Comfortable ❦

Riding Tandem ✿

A Close Shave ❦ ✿

Happy Birthday, Mr Bridgerton ❦ ✿

The Things We Do For Love ❥ ❦ ⚣

A Closer Shave [Fic Remix] ❦ ✿

Bella Notte ❦

Target Practice ✿

Cravats ❦

(Be)Longing ❥ ✿

A Change of Circumstance ✿

Cat-Nip ✿

Our Cottage ✿

Second Son ❥ ✿

And One For Luck ❦

Canvas ❦

Stand & Deliver ❦

A Cure for Boredom ❦

Comfort ✿

Enthralled ❦

Refuge ✿

A Welcome Intrusion ✿

Ruler & Subject ❦

Reunited ❦

Reprisal ❦

What The True Poet Describes ✿

Vignette ✿

Eden ❦

To Know You ✿

Mirror, Mirror ❦

Absolution ❦

Wisteria ✿

NSFW Alphabet for Benedict Bridgerton ❦

The Secrets We Keep: Pt I ❥ ✿

The Secrets We Keep: Pt II ❥ ✿ ❦

Benedict Bridgerton x OC Female Character:

Enthralled [x OC version] ❦

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett:

Breaking and Fixing [Benophie remix] ✿

Our Cottage [Benophie remix] ✿

Hormones [Benophie remix] ✿

Dividers @/firefly-graphics

[hopepaigeturner]

How would you like the writer of Bridgerton to write Bath scene in AOFAG if s4 is going to be Benedicts season

For the most patient nonny who must have waited atleast a year for me to answer this. I present...

An Offer From An Avid Reader: The Bath Scene.

That's right, it's finally here. All 4000 words of it.

NOTE: I do not write smut, however this has some heavy implications of sexy shenanigans so I am rating this a 15+

Right, let's get to it.

✨The Context✨

This is not necessarily a scene, but more the 'bath sequence' as I shall call it for there are some humorous asides that add to the bathroom scene itself.

Also, as in the books, this scene takes place after the jail scene, but there are a couple tweaks:

The bath scene takes place at Bridgerton House not at Benedict’s bachelor lodgings. It takes place in a bathroom that is connected to two rooms that used to be Eloise’s and Francesca’s shared bathroom.

My jail-break scene is split into two so it’s not an info dump. So what’s happened is all the elements of the jail scene: Benophie reunites, the impromptu proposal, Posy swooping in and saving everyone while the magistrate slowly loses the will to live…But no Violet vs. Araminta showdown. Araminta hasn’t been blackmailed—sorry persuaded—to keep Sophie’s heritage a secret or announce her as legitimate.

Therefore, Benophie are still headed towards their original destination—living a modest life after being cast out by polite society, due to the indecency of Sophie’s heritage.

Finally, pre-jail scene, the last scene Benophie would have been in together was the sofa scene (read part 1 here, and part 2 here). They literally haven’t talked since then other than Benedict sending Sophie a letter she never read.

Hence this scene is still romantic, and will get steamy, but also a lot of unresolved conflict will be sorted out. And starting out both Ben and Sophie haven’t really been able to calm down over the last two days…

✨The Scene✨

Kate is the one who finally shoos everyone out of the bathroom after noticing how Sophie is utterly overwhelmed.

Sophie finally shuts the doors and rests her head on them. The viewer sees unshed tears in her eyes as the emotions of the last couple hours—and even the last few days—threaten to burst out of her.

Then she hears a knock from the other side of the bathroom.

“Sophie?”

Sophie almost seems to collapse in relief, instantly drawn to the other side of the bathroom.

“Benedict?”

“I am here.” The camera switches to the other side of the door, where Benedict stands. Benedict puts a hand on the wood. “I do not need to come in, but I just…” he puts his head on the door.

The camera shows both sides of the door, Benophie pressed up against each side in mirror positions--a slab of wood preventing them from resting their foreheads on each other. Just as they were at the end of the sofa scene.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe…that you were…” Benedict’s voice catches on the thousand scenarios still reeling in his head, “that you were here.”

“I am here.”

“I know. I know.” Ben’s smile is small but fleeting. He takes a shuddering breath. “I shall leave you and give you some peace—”

“Please do not leave me,” Sophie says her voice small, but sure. “Please come in.” And with that she unlocks the door.

Benedict stares at the door. A door that Sophie has chosen to unlock—for him.

With reverence, he walks in to find Sophie some paces away, her dressing gown clutched around her.

For a moment they stare, then they soften. And then there is a blur and they are in each other’s arms, tears streaming down both their faces. With Benedict buried in the crook of her shoulder crying.

“I am so sorry, I am so sorry.”

They separate slightly, foreheads pressed together, eyes still closed.

“No, I should be the one apologising…”

“No, no I must apologise.” Benedict says, his voice clogged with unshed tears, “I told you that I would protect you, I promised to keep you safe and I could not, she…she could have…” he shudders, “I am so sorry.”

“Benedict, Benedict, no.” Sophie cradles his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You came back for me, you rescued me.”

Benedict shakes his head,

“Posy was far more significant in that matter.”

“That is not what I meant.” Sophie takes his hand and places it on her heart. “You saved me here. Your love…your words…your deeds helped me.”

Sophie herself shudders as she recounts,

“Before you arrived, Araminta found me, and she taunted me with all her usual tricks and barbs that she has inflicted upon me since I was a child. And in the past, they have worked…you see, for my entire life, all those who were supposed to love me, would always step away: my father, Araminta and my stepsisters. And I would try so, so hard, but all I seemed to do was make people miserable and I think…” Sophie’s voice becomes clogged, but she continues, “I think I started to believe a long, long time ago that I could not be worthy of love, that I did not…that such things could not be for someone like me.”

“That is not true—”

Sophie puts her fingers on his lips and Benedict stills.

“I am coming to understand that. I am starting to believe so…and part of that is because of you.”

Benedict shakes his head emphatically, Sophie smiles.

“I said part, not the whole. What you did, as you do for so many others, is help me unveil the truth within myself. And the truth within myself is that…” Sophie smiles brilliantly, “I am more than a bastard. I am a woman with convictions. I am a woman who is kind regardless of the consequences or my past. I am a dear friend and confidante. And I am loved. I am loved by Ginny and your sisters and Kate and your mother and the servants like Mrs Gibbons and you…I am loved by you.

You, who has never stepped away from me but always embraced me. You, who loved me in a silver dress and then again in a maid’s uniform. You, who still rushed into a prison even after my cowardice spurned you so deeply. So, when Araminta lashed me with those old insults and barbs, I saw them clearly for the first time—as lies—just as I saw myself as clearly as well. I am Sophia Maria Beckett, the woman who loves and the woman who is loved. And your words helped me come to that conclusion, even if they were only one piece of the puzzle. So, there is no need to apologise, only for you to receive my gratitude and my love.”

She continues to smile, while Benedict gapes.

“You are a marvel,” Benedict breathes, eyes filled with wonder. “And there are so many reasons why I love you. But one of the things I love best, is that you know yourself. You have principles, you have spirit and a strength that is ever so rare.” He touches her delicately, not because she is so brittle that she will break, but because she is the most precious of jewels, “I am sorry for asking you to be my mistress.”

“You have already apologised.”

“Not truly, nor sincerely.”

“And what else was a man of your position to do?”

“While that may be true it was not fair, especially when I was so pig headed at hearing your refusal.  You were correct, I was ignorant of our positions. I would die before sharing you, so why should I have expected you to share me when I was forced to marry?”

“In a perfect world we could have married, we could have just been Sophie and Benedict. But in this world men like you do not marry—”

“None of what I said weeks ago, in my lodgings, have changed. I do not care that we cannot live in London, I do not care what Lady Penwood might spread or what doors are barred to us. Over these past days, these past weeks, the conviction that first whispered on my heart has been carved deeper and deeper; that when I think about what I need in my life—not want but need—all I think of is you. Only you, it always has and will always be, you.”

It is Sophie’s turn to stare, her eyes widening to drink in a new expanse of emotion, just as her heart tries to hold the enormity of his words. But his words are like monsoon rain on parched land, and so, her eyes water.

Benedict softly wipes the tears away and Sophie can smile. 

“Such sentiment explains your little announcement.”

“I know I was presumptuous in the jail, and you deserve much more—”

“Benedict—” She holds his face, “I wish to marry you also. I love you, only you.”

Benedict’s breath hitches, before he sweeps her in his arms.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, so, so much,” he cries as Sophie giggles in his arms. “You make me the happiest man alive.”

Benedict surges up and kisses her and with a final spin they return to the ground. Although they stay clasped together, rocking in the momentum of that joy, the surety of their love finally realised. Benedict buries his nose in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling the presence of her. And as he inhales, his nose scrunches…

“Sophie, I love you,”

“Mhmm.”

“But you do smell.” He whispers, kissing her cheek. Sophie pulls away and sniffs her shoulder.

“Oh gosh, I do! Well, that is what sleeping on the floor for two days does for you.”

At his stricken face she says, a little quieter,

“One day we shall laugh about it.”

“But not quite yet,” Benedict replies softly.

“Not quite yet.” She kisses him softly before extracting herself, looking over to the bath. “Oh, there are bubbles!” she turns to him with a childish awe, “I have never had a bath with bubbles before.”

Benedict smiles. They will probably never joke about her past—but he could ensure that the rest of her life would be full of laughter and love.

Sophie goes up to the bath, her hands fiddling with the tie of the dressing gown. Benedict turns away.

“That is very gallant of you.”

“I am a gentleman.”

“I would not mind; you are to be my husband after all.”

Benedict scrunches his eyes shut and almost groans, his resistance waning. Perhaps the audience might see him mouthing:

You are a gentleman. You are a gentleman.

“This is my mother’s house,” he manages to choke out.

“As you desire.”

He hears the thump of the dressing gown, the ripple of her limbs entering the water and he bites his lips to keep himself in check. But, he cannot restrain his eyes from wandering over his shoulder…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I am glad that all is well,” Kate sighs, resting on Anthony as they stand with the rest of the family in Bridgerton House’s parlour.

“Yes, Sophie is safe,” Anthony replies, fingers idly tracing up and down Kate’s spine. “And they shall be happily married,” he acknowledges Kate’s raised eyebrow. “With the family’s blessing and my own. But we must prepare for the oncoming storm. I doubt Lady Penwood is a woman who enjoys being thwarted nor hesitates from ensuring she has the final word.”

“There must be some way to mitigate the damage…” Kate falls silent for a moment. Then she perks up, her eyes sparkling, “I have an idea—I must go talk to your mother.” She kisses his cheek and rushes over to Violet. Anthony watches on baffled, as his mother and wife start a hushed, but fervent, conversation. In curiosity he walks closer.

Just then a maid, Nadia, enters the room with a gown. Only then does Kate break from the conversation to nod at the dress.

“Very good, Nadia. Take it up to the Lady Francesca’s old room, for Miss Beckett is bathing in the rose bathroom.” The maid curtsies then exits.

“The rose bathroom?” Violet asks, brow furrowed. “Not the jasmine bedroom? Is that not our best spare room?”

“No, Anthony directed the servants to ready a bath in the rose bathroom for some reason…” Kate trails off, then turns to her husband. “Anthony, why did you not send the servants to the jasmine bedroom?”

Anthony gulps.

“I just…it was the first thought in my head,” he rambles.

“And why should Sophie be relegated to the opposite wing of the house?” Eloise pipes up. “She is to be family; it makes perfect sense for her to be in the family wing. I do not mind sharing the bathroom once more, after all, Frannie and I managed for years.”

His mother turns to Anthony with accusatory eyes. A look that was always followed by an admonishing ‘Anthony!’ ever since he could reach his father’s knee. Anthony swallows thickly.

“Come to think of it--where is Benedict?” Colin asks, sharing a conspirators look with his wife.

“I sent him to rest. He has not slept these last two days,” Anthony tries to ignore how pitchy his voice sounds.

“Anthony!” His mother cries.

“Ah a wise decision. I am sure, Benedict is in need of some…relaxation.”

“Colin Bridgerton!” Violet cries.

“All I am saying is that after everything, the poor pair deserve a little…release.” Colin shrugs, getting a muffled scoff from Penelope whose eyes are alit with delight.

“Oh, I cannot believe you all,” Their mother grouses, pulling up her gloves as if going into battle. Indeed, she starts to stalk out of the room.

Thankfully, Kate arrests her before she can exit.

“Violet, you must allow it, just this once.”

“What exactly is happening? Do I need to go and check on Sophie?” Eloise cries, standing to attention.

“There is no use. Knowing Benedict, it would be unwise to appear unannounced,” Colin continues, Penelope barely able to hide her giggles behind her teacup. “Goodness knows what position they shall be in.”

Penelope spits out her tea.

“Colin Bridgerton!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sophie blows softly, and the pile of bubbles in her hand disperses into the air.

“Lean forward, please.” She obeys and allows Benedict to rinse the rest of the soap off her back. Then she hums as his hands start massaging her shoulders.

“Hmmm, this feels wonderful.”

“I am glad. Can I wash your hair?”

“Ofcourse.”

“Dunk please.”

Sophie obeys, eyes shutting, body loosening. She lifts up and Benedict starts to create a lather of soap in her hair, the movement of his hands hypnotic. All adding to the gentle, warm lull of the atmosphere. Sophie takes a sniff of her hair.

“Better than lake water?” Benedict asks with a grin, recalling that day on the lake all those months ago.

“Absolutely—lavender, pretty.” Sophie grins up at him, before dunking her hair and washing the soap from it.

"Your hair used to be longer," Benedict muses, hands running through the wet strands. Sophie closes her eyes and tips her head back into his touch.

"It was, but I had to sell it to a wigmaker."

Benedict's hands retreat. Sophie lifts her head up--slightly bewildered--until Benedict gently turns her face to him, staring deep into her eyes.

"You will want for nothing," Benedict says, as solemn as a vow, and Sophie's throat burns with emotion. Her hand reaches out to trace the curve of his cheek, her own words just as weighty,

"As long as I have you, I will want for nothing."

“You have me, heart and soul.”

“As you have me, heart and soul.”

The solemnity warms until they are smiling sweetly at one another, Sophie gently leans in and kisses him.

“Are you sure you do not wish to get in?”

“Absolutely not, I am quite enjoying myself here.” Benedict grins then returns to his prior position, “I like pampering you.” At this he starts massaging her again, causing Sophie to moan slightly.

“You must be careful, Mr Bridgerton, otherwise I might want such treatment every night of our marriage.”

“And I would gladly do so. But is there anything else you want Mrs Bridgerton?”

“What else could I want? What else could we want?”

“Well…I want to spend an afternoon by a lake. You would be reading, I would be sketching, and whenever we got too warm we would slip into the water to cool off.” His voice pitches low, “then I would carry you from the water and make love to you on the shore.”

Sophie tries to swallow her flush,

“You have given this a lot of thought.”

“I have had a thousand nights of dreams about my Lady in Silver,” he kisses one shoulder, “and Sophie Beckett,” he kisses the other shoulder.

Sophie’s breath catches, her eyes fixed in the distance—as if looking at a shimmering future that she can finally believe is no longer a mirage.

“Tell me more,” she whispers, hoarsely.

“I want to hold your hand in the street and in church, and in the market, where I buy you pretty ribbons for your hair. I want to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Misshapen eggs?”

Benedict chuckles,

“Misshapen eggs and all.” He replies, then turns a little more solemn, eyes lost in the future he paints with his words,

“I want to go on rambling walks where the conversation never ends. I want us to come home to our little cottage or flat or whatever home we can afford, and dance together in our kitchen,” he swallows thickly, “I want to hold you as the embers die down in the fireplace, and I want to wake up next to you every morning even when we’re grey or we only have a couple moments before our children jump on the bed. I want to love you more and more every day and take care of you and give you anything you want.” His hands tremble with emotion, like his voice. “That is what I want…So, what is it you want?” he kisses below her ear, looking at her.

Sophie’s eyes shiver in the silence, she plays with some errant bubbles floating in the water.

“You have such a way with words and I…” her voice dies down, “it has been a long time since I have been allowed to want, let alone been asked.”

Benedict’s eyes soften with understanding. Gently he tilts her chin up.

“It does not need to be much or many, just whatever is on your heart.”

Sophie lingers in the sincerity of his eyes, far more powerful orators than his beautiful poetry. So, haltingly, she starts,

“I want to be loved. I want to love…I want to wake up in your arms every morning with the knowledge that I am safe. I want to laugh. I want to be held and comforted no matter how violent the storm. I want our children to be smothered in love and never know what it is to be hungry or cold or unwanted. I want to be by your side as your talent grows and love you through all manner of strife. I want a life with you by my side, whether we live in a palace or a poorhouse. I just want you.”

Benedict swoops down for a plundering kiss that spins the world around them. When they break Benedict whispers,

“I will give you all of it.” His voice rumbles against her lips. “You deserve the world, my goddess, my Queen.”

“I do not want the world; I just want Benedict.”

He moans at that, and they kiss once more, Sophie lifting herself out of the bathtub to gain purchase. Both are gasping when they part, and the words fall out of Sophie’s mouth.

“I want you to join me.”

Benedict's eyes darken, his smirk widening as he stands and turns away to strip.

"I would like to watch".

Benedict looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. Sophie swallows, then stares him down with a burning intensity that is starting to settle in her stomach.

"I want to watch you."

So, he turns, and slowly unbuttons his shirt, basking in Sophie’s lascivious gaze as he moves to snapping off his breeches before unthreading the buttons of his breeches. Before the final button he looks at Sophie for permission, she nods.

Then he is bare, and her breath hitches.

“I assume this is the first one you have seen?”

Sophie nods mutely.

“The first you will touch?”

She nods.

“The first you will take?”

Sophie nods, eyes wide.

“As long as it will fit.”

Benedict kisses her gently, and ensures she looks him in the eye when he says,

“You lead, I follow. Whatever you want, whenever you want, at your pace. But I can promise,” a kiss on her jaw. “that on our wedding night,” a kiss on the corner of her mouth, “I will be gentle, so all you feel is exceptional.” Another kiss that turns molten all too quickly. “Now, what is it you want?”

“For the final time, for you to get in the bloody bath,” she huffs, trying to pull him in. He chuckles then climbs in, sitting behind her, pressing themselves against each other.

Sophie’s breath hitches.

“Better?” he whispers.

“Much.”

He turns her chin, so they look at one another. His eyes are blown wide and so startingly blue that they transfix her. Benedict nods.

Sophie raises a hand to link it with one of his. Then, still staring deeply in his eyes, she traces their hands over her body until it cups her breast.

“I want you here.”

He squeezes and she gasps.

“Yes?”

She reaches back once more, for the final hand, lacing their fingers together.

“And I want,” she trails their clasped hands over her stomach until it dips under the water, “you here,” she gasps, eyes drowning in Benedict’s blue ones, as he starts his ministrations.

Yet they do not stop staring, not even when they kiss...

Not as Sophie writhes more and more in his arms, nor as Benedict’s hips start to buck. Even as Sophie turns around to straddle him, they keep their eyes locked together. Even as Sophie braces one hand on his shoulder, the other sinking below to find him in the soapy water. Even when their kisses turn messy and open-mouthed.

“I want you,” Benedict pants as they both start to reach their peak, “I want all of you.”

“I want all of you,” Sophie keens. “And you have me, all of me.”

“And you have me, all of me,” he whispers. “You are mine and I am yours.”

Finally, her eyes close as she shudders from the climax. Benedict surges up and smothers his own releasing moan with her lips.

The water settles, as the couple settle—even though they can barely control their panting breaths or racing heartbeats.

“God, I cannot wait to marry you,” Benedict mumbles.

“How long must we wait?”

“A few weeks—three at the least.”

“So long?” Sophie huffs. Benedict chuckles. “Then I suppose we shall have to make do with moments like this,” Sophie leans forward with a spark in her eye, “I am sure there is much, much more I can learn…”

Benedict leans forward also, a rakish smirk on his face.

“What a wonderful idea Mrs—"

Someone hammers on the door.

“Sophie!”

Benedict and Sophie snap up, eyes wide.

“S—t.” Sophie swears.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Eloise, please—”

Eloise rips away from Kate’s arm to wiggle the lock.

“I must ensure that my brother is not befouling Sophie!” she cries. With a final click, and one final kick, Eloise bangs the door open and strides in.

“Eloise, what on earth?” Sophie asks from the bathtub, where she sits—alone. Eloise strides further into the room, scouting around the furniture, even behind the bath.

“Eloise!” Sophie sinks deeper into the bath.

“I am looking for my infuriating brother! In case he has invaded your personal space!”

“As opposed to you who entered my private space uninvited.”

Eloise stops short, her cheeks flushing.

“Well, I…”

“Eloise, you are being rash,” Kate soothes pulling Eloise back to the door. “You must learn to ignore Colin—he was merely winding you and your mother up.”

Eloise pouts, hands on her hips.

“Well, Sophie, if my brother dares to act in any ungentlemanly way towards you, you must tell me then I can give him a stern talking to.”

Sophie smiles.

“That is very sweet Eloise. I shall endeavour to do so in the future.”

“I am sure Sophie will,” Kate says with a smile. Behind Eloise’s back, Sophie notices Kate push Benedict’s errant waistcoat under a footstool with her foot.

Eloise leaves with a final nod. Kate follows behind and gives Sophie a wink. Sophie turns bright red.

Once alone, Sophie deflates and sinks under the water in relief.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The camera turns to an empty bedroom—the same bedroom Benedict had frequented before entering the bathroom. All is still.

Then the window slowly judders up and open. One boot drops to the ground, then another. Finally, Benedict clumsily manoeuvres himself from window into the room—sockless, shirt open and braces swinging around his hips.

Once safely inside he silently closes the window and picks up his belongings. Just as he is to leave, he gives a fond smile towards the bathroom door.

Someone clears their throat.

Benedict looks up, like a rabbit in front of a rifle.

His mother leans against the bedroom door, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Benedict has the sense to look sheepish.

“You have precisely less than a minute to rush into another room and avoid Eloise’s wrath. I shall talk to both you and your brother later,” is all she says.

“Yes, mother,” Benedict starts walking out, avoiding her eye. Just as he passes her, she puts a hand on her shoulder.

“And Benedict,” He turns to find her hard stare. “While the revelations of the past days might have set our world in a tailspin, it does not alter the matter that Sophie is a lady and should be treated as such. Do you understand me?”

“Yes mother.”

Violet narrows her eyes. Benedict gives a tentative smile. Violet breaks and rolls her eyes. “Off you go—shoo.”

She shoos him away, and Benedict obeys—with a quick kiss on her cheek and a smirk on his face.

*~*~~*~*~*~*~~*

Hee hee.

What do you think?

As always, I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests. So...

Check out the list here, for more of my ideas on S4.

Check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

Or message/reblog/reply to this :)

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

amidst the golden autumn wind and jade-glistening dew

by @orangepeelshortbreadcookies

Ratings: M

Relationships: Sophie (Beckett) Baek/Benedict Bridgerton

Characters: Sophie Baek, Benedict Bridgerton

Additional Tags: Inspired by Pushing Daisies, So what if I take that iconic saran wrap kiss and make it Benophie?, Greek and East Asian myths references, Water References, Dry Humping, Benedict and Sophie kiss and there's a curtain involved, if anyone knows the scientific term for this kink I'd love to know, because i don't, Benedict Bridgerton Is Obsessed With Sophie Baek, as he should, Benedict Bridgerton Struggles With 'Big Feelings', Benedict Bridgerton Being Benedict Bridgerton, An Artist & A Poet & A Horny, Sophie's Horny Too, POV Benedict Bridgerton, Idiots in Love, Smut and Fluff and Angst, So. Much. Yearning

Chapter: 1/1 (Completed)

[silverhallow]

Evermore

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

summary: after years of being "just friends" a birthday trip to a secluded cabin in the woods changes everything for Evermore...

warnings: Mentions of Oral Sex, Woman on Top, Missionary, fingering, nothing majorly graphic

word count: 3450

Rating: M

author's note: a little drabble that got a bit out of hand.

It was the weekend of Sophie’s 25th birthday, but she’d not felt like celebrating, she just wanted to stop at home, chill out, go see a movie and maybe go for a drink or two but her best friend, Benedict, decided to surprise her with a trip to the mountains. Just the two of them.

The drive hadn’t taken that long and they arrived early Friday evening, and it was so peaceful and serene. The moonlight flooding through the windows and all of the stars out gave everything a bit of a romantic feel. 

Sophie shook her head, she couldn’t believe that Benedict had picked a location that looked so romantic and secluded, they hadn’t been like that with one another for years.

Back in University when they first met, they’d slept together regularly but as they got closer and closer, it became apparent that the sex was complicating things and she’d been so terrified of getting hurt that they’d decided to just to remain friends and cut the sex element out of their relationship.

"Soph?" Benedict called from down the hall as she was stocking the fridge. "Did you know this place only has one bed?"

"Yeah, I mean why can't we share a bed? The bigger places didn't have hot tubs." she said as she gestured towards the glass door at the balcony with the Hot Tub. 

Benedict may have chosen the location but she had been the one to pick the chalet, she’d not given much thought about the sleeping arrangements but if she was in some cabin in the woods, she wanted to be able to use the hot tub.

"No... we can… but why do we need a hot tub? It's December."

"Exactly. It will be like drinking hot chocolate when it's cold. In fact, I'm going out there in a minute." Sophie grinned as she stood up, the fridge now fully stocked.

"Okay, well I think I'm actually going to get some sleep, it was a long drive and I want to get started early tomorrow." Benedict replied with a stretch

"Don't hog the blankets!" she yelled after him as he walked up the stairs towards the bedroom

About 30 minutes later, the kitchen was fully stocked and she’d sorted out their hiking gear for tomorrow. She headed up to the bathroom to change, her clothes where in the suitcase benedict had taken upstairs. Hewas already asleep, but he awoke when she sneezed from behind the door in the bathroom and she winced, hoping that it wouldn’t disturb him but she wasn’t so lucky.

"Soph?" she heard coming from the bedroom.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," Sophie emerged from the bathroom wearing a silver string bikini. Benedict turned on the bedside lamp and Sophie saw his mouth open a little in shock.

Last time he had seen her naked, she’d been very thin but over the last 4 years she’d gained some weight, thanks to cooking for herself and being out from under her wicked stepmother. She’d developed and had curves in all the right places and she could tell that he was trying his hardest not to stare at her.

"It's okay." she smiled, she knew it was only natural and she knew her bikini left little to the imagination. 

Benedict couldn't peel his eyes from between her legs, and she felt herself starting to get a little wet. She told herself it was just hormones. she hadn't had good sex in a long time, and her body was craving the familiar, pushing down the stirring she felt whenever she was around him.

"Well, goodnight, i’ll try not to wake you when I come back up" and as difficult as it was, she decided the right thing to do was walk away.

It was very cold outside. Not quite cold enough to snow just yet but it was cold enough that it wouldn't have been feasible to stand out there in a bikini for more than a minute or two.

When she sank into the warm water, all her worries went away and she felt herself sigh contentedly.

She poured herself a Whiskey from the bottle she’d left outside, sat back, and stared at the stars. Just as the alcohol started to hit her, she heard Benedict opening the door and stepping out onto the balcony behind her.

"I can't sleep."

"Sorry Ben… I really didn't mean to wake you. You know I always sneeze at the most inconvenient times."

"I know but I saw you having a drink and thought maybe the whiskey might help me sleep."

"Oh, sure," she handed him the glass and he stood outside the hot tub drinking. "Why don't you just get in?" she asked with a brow raised knowing he must have been cold standing there.

"I don't want to get my boxers wet."

"Oh please, like I don't know what your dick looks like."

He choked on his drink and started coughing, his entire body going bright red.

"You mean get in naked?"

"Yeah, why not? I'll get naked, too, if that will make you feel more comfortable."

"You don't have to do that, but as long as you're okay with me being naked..."

Sophie nodded, and Benedict pulled his boxers off and she could see he was a little hard.

"Sorry." He blushed. Sophie just smiled and cursed herself mentally, she had forgotten how thick he was, but seeing his cock again immediately turned her on.

He took the seat right next to her, and they sat like that for a while, passing the glass back and forth until the amber liquid was gone.

Sophie let her head fall back on the edge of the hot tub as she let out a contented sigh, she felt good. Warm on the inside from the whiskey, and on the outside from the water.

Ben laughed, placing his hand on her thigh and she couldn’t help but watch it through the water.

"I'm glad I came here with you instead of staying home." Sophie looked up at him. He was so handsome, dark hair and stunning blue eyes, with perfect skin. He was tall and fit, but not aggressively so, it always made her stomach squirm when she saw him like this.

"Me too. You deserve nice things, you know. You work so hard, all the time, but you never stop to enjoy what you're working for."

"You're right," she replied, as she looked away, embarrassed. She had wasted her entire teens, dedicated it to trying to make her stepmother like her before she went to Uni and thought she was making progress, been to therapy and was building herself back up, she was nowhere near where she wanted to be in her life. She’d been single for years, she worked and worked and hardly had any time to enjoy her life.

In an effort to pull herself out of her spiral, she redirected the conversation onto him, "What about you? Are you getting utter fulfillment out of life Mr Hot-Shot Photographer?"

"No," He said, almost with a derisive snort. "Not even close."

"What more is it you want?" she asked curiously. She’d assumed he had everything, a career, he was always being linked to some stunning model or something and he had a family that Sophie would have killed for.

He didn't answer and Sophie thought it was odd so when she looked over at him, she was shocked to see that he was staring at her. A bright intensity, almost a pain in his eyes that she’d never seen before and it made her stomach squirm.

"What?"

"Soph…." He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"Ben? What? You can tell me anything you know…" Sophie rubbed his back, concerned that something was really wrong and he had been keeping it to himself.

"You have to know that I'm in love with you." he said, his eyes averted from her and she could tell the red tinge to his cheeks was nothing to do with the heat from the water.

Sophie felt her stomach drop and  she was sure it had just turned inside out. She’d honestly thought maybe they’d end up fucking, but never in her life did she expect a declaration of love. She’d always assumed he never felt that way about her… that she just wasn’t his type.

"Ben, I... How long have you felt this way?" she asked, a little taken aback as she tried to get her brain to process his words

"Years." he said honestly

"Years?!" she squeaked

"Yeah, I mean... I couldn't tell you after you said we should just be friends, because I knew you wouldn't talk to me anymore. And I would have rather had you around and secretly be in love with you than not have you around at all." he replied sadly.

"I had no idea." Sophie said in disbelief.

He snorted, "Come on.. You don’t give yourself enough credit Soph. You're absolutely stunningly beautiful, you're so smart and easy to talk to, funny, ambitious, great in bed, and I mean... look at your body. How could I not be in love with you?"

Sophie leaned into him, her heart pounding in her chest so loudly she was shocked he couldn’t hear it, "You really think i’m all of those things?"

"Of course I do Soph. You are an absolute goddess, stop letting the people around you tell you otherwise."

Sophie could see the sincerity in his eyes, and with her heart hammering, she leaned in, believing every word he said and kissed him.

He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her back harder, putting every ounce of his feelings into the kiss, like it was his only chance, like it would be his only salvation, like it was their last kiss…

Sophie moved a bit closer to him and moaned into his mouth, and he pulled away, looking into her eyes and she saw the pain in his eyes and she knew what he was thinking before he said it, "Soph… I… I… don't know if we should."

Benedict grabbed her hand beneath the water, stroking her palm with his thumb, he knew how she felt about rejection, about being pushed away and the sense of abandonment she’d been dealing with in years of therapy but he was protecting himself, he couldn’t go back into a casual thing with her, but he didn’t want to lose her.

"Benni..." He looked up, she knew he hated being called Benni, unless it was by her because she.  only used this moniker when she was being serious. "I feel the same way you do." she admitted.

Benedict just stared at her and a quiet fell around them, she could see the confusion in his face and eyes, especially because she had been the one to end things. Finally after what felt like hours, he asked “why did you say we should only be friends? I don’t get it… if… if you felt like this… like that…"

"I was scared," She replied honestly, her heart hammering knowing she owed him this. "It was so much, so fast and I’d fallen so madly in love with you and I kept hearing the voices in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough for you, that you didn’t feel the same way I was terrified of getting my heart broken, of it not working out and you leaving me as well. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing your friendship, too. So I thought it was better to cut the romantic element out. But all I did was make myself miserable. And made you miserable as well apparently” she said sadly as she looked away from him, ashamed that she’d hurt him in such a way.

Benedict placed a hand on her cheek and tilted it up so that her green eyes met his and just stared at her for a moment, taking in the moment before he caressed her cheek and pulled her onto his lap, her legs wrapping around him straddling him.

"Tell me." he whispered, needing to hear the words for himself, the three little words that would forever change their lives.

Sophie placed her hand on his chest and laid her head on his shoulder, enjoying the tenderness and closeness before she whispered, "I love you, Ben. I have for a long time."

He pulled her up to face him again and pressed his lips to hers, taking her lower lip into his mouth and giving it a playful and tender bite.

"You're my dream girl, my muse, my everything" he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, caressing where he’d just bitten, "You know that?"

Sophie moaned as he kissed and licked her neck, undoubtedly marking her as he went, it used to drive her mad when they were together and he undoubtedly remembered the reaction.

Benedict grinned into her flesh as he untied her bikini top so he could have unrestricted access and Sophie watched as it floated out of sight. 

Her nipples hardened immediately from the cold air and Benedict kissed down her chest taking his time to cover every inch of her breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth causing her to moan. He licked, sucked, or gently bit one while he softly rubbed the other... then he'd switch driving her mad with desire and need.

Sophie arched back into his mouth desperate for more when she suddenly became very aware of his hard cock between them.

She started grinding on him, harder and harder, until he spanked her arse hard and she yelped, having not expected it.

"Careful now." he warned as he lifted her slightly and moved them to the edge of the hot tub where he grabbed her towel and laid her down on top of it and tugged at the sides of her bikini bottoms, removing them and tossing them behind them.

The coolness of the December eve did not bother them as they were lost to the heat of the moment and the passion between them. 

He captured her lips once more in a fiery kiss that consumed them both, his hands moved up her thighs, spreading her wider for him as he rubbed her clit in slow circles as they made out.

His mouth muffled her moans, but neither of them were concerned about their noise levels as there was nobody around for miles. Just the two of them and the passion that burned between them. Years of longing and desperation pouring into one another.

Sophie felt herself getting hotter and closer to the edge, desperate to cum and just as she was about to tell him, to beg him for more, he slipped two fingers inside her, forcing the last word to come out in a long moan and she screamed into his lips, riding out the intense orgasm.

Before she’d had a chance to recover, Benedict had moved with a speed she’d forgotten he possessed and replaced his fingers with his lips and tongue and she felt like she was in heaven, staring up at the stars as orgasm after orgasm rolled through her body.

She’d thought Benedict had been good in bed back in University but this was nothing short of spectacular, the true definition of making love. 

Their confession, their desire and love for one another made the moment all the more special.

"Do you want to move inside?" she asked, stroking his hair as his head rested on her thigh, as he was giving her a brief moment of respite, as she felt the cold starting to creep over her body.

"I would love that." He kissed her flesh where his mouth was before getting up and scoping her up into his arms and carrying her through the chalet into the bedroom where he laid her down on the bed settling himself between her legs, rubbing his rock hard cock along her clit, knowing how desperate she was, knowing how badly he wanted it but he was determined to make her beg for it.

"Please Ben," she moaned. "Please Benni…I've waited long enough. Please fuck me…” she begged and that was all the encouragement he required as with one forceful and deliberate thrust, he was buried deep within her.

"Oh fuck, Soph" he groaned, knowing he was finally home after all these years. "You're so wet, fuck." He leaned down and kissed her before he started to pound harder. After a few minutes of thrusting, kissing and clinging to one another Sophie moaned “I want to ride you”

Benedict, not being one to disappoint his lady, rolled them so she on top, without ever pulling out of her. 

With a wicked smirk, she leaned back and began moving her hips slowly as he tilted his own so he was hitting her g spot so perfectly. 

Sophie had always loved showing off for him, the way he watched her with lust and disbelief and now she had confidence in her body, no longer felt ashamed by her figure and her ribs, she began to really put on a show for him, as she ground her hips against him, riding him faster and faster until she’d lost all sense of time, place and her sensibilities.

It was only until Benedict sat up, pulling her tighter on top of him and he licked up her cheek towards her ear and whispered, "I'm going to fuck you so good that you never want another cock, that you’ll only ever need my cock" He spanked her arse as she moaned causing her to yelp. "Now, be a good girl and get on your stomach” he said squeezing her arse and she clambered off him and lay down.

Benedict lay her in a prone position and lay atop of her, pinning her wrists behind her back and slid his cock up and down her pussy a few times, teasing her

“Ben please… please just fuck me… fuck me til I can’t walk!” she screamed at him, unable to take his teasing anymore.

Without a word he slammed himself in, burning himself so completely that he was almost balls deep within her and she screamed in pleasure, she’d never felt so full, so complete as she did in that moment.

"Your pussy is so fucking tight, so fucking hot" he growled, slowing his thrusts. "Fuck, Soph. You're going to make me cum already." he admitted as he stopped completely for a moment, still buried deep within her, not moving, just giving himself a moment to compose himself as he moved his fingers up and down her spine, tracing the freckles on her back and stroking my hair. This was what she always loved about him, what she’d missed whenever she had sex with another person, what always made her crave him…. He was the perfect blend of rough and gentle.

Especially with her and she realised how much of a fool she’d been, how blind she’d been and before she could open her mouth to apologise, to say something… 

Benedict began to move again and all thoughts were lost to the perfection of the moment.

She felt herself being pounded directly into the mattress. His thrusts were perfect and in sync, and she came harder than she’d ever cum in her entire life, her voice would be hoarse tomorrow and she felt her walls spasming as she screamed and her body convulsed around his cock.

Benedict couldn't hold back any longer when he felt her pussy tighten around him, the feeling that he was home, the place he belonged, with the woman he had loved in silent heartbreak for the last few years and he grabbed her by the hips and came deep inside her with the most guttural noise he had ever heard himself make. It was perfection, it was everything that he’d dreamed.

Sophie carefully rolled over as his now limp cock fell out of her and he collapsed on top of her, placing little kisses on her collarbone, both of them letting their hands roam over the other, just touching and desperate to never stop touching the other, knowing that this, today was the start of the rest of their lives, and totally worth the horrific cold that they’d both wake up with in the morning.

Benedict’s eyes fell to the clock and he saw it was after midnight, today was officially Sophie’s birthday and he leaned over with a gentle and loving kiss to her lips and whispered,  "I love you, Soph. Happy birthday.”

Sophie whispered back “I love you too, this has been the best birthday ever…”

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Fireside

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett Rated: 18+, smut, cockwarming, dirty talk Word count: 3.2k Summary: Benedict is freezing and Sophie does her best to warm him up.

Author's Note: I wrote this as a winter fic, but hey - February is still winter! Happy Valentine's Day! 💝

“What on earth happened to you?” Sophie stood from her chair, letting her book fall to the cushion.  Benedict stood in the doorway to their room, pale as a ghost, his black hair somehow turned grey. He walked toward her stiffly, arms hovering away from his body as if he couldn’t stand the feeling of his own clothes. When he moved closer, she realized that his hair was powdered with melting crystals of snow.

“Colin, Eloise and Pen,” he grumbled, stalking toward the blaze burning high in the tiled fireplace. Sophie now saw the drips falling from his fingertips and chin, and realized he was soaked through.

“But you went for a ride with Anthony and Kate. How did they get involved?”

“They were waiting for us when we got back. They had crafted the largest arsenal of snowballs I have ever seen. We didn’t stand a chance.” He frowned and crouched before the flames, holding out his hands, which were white and shaking.

“Oh?” Sophie couldn’t hide the smirk that crept across her face, so covered it with her hand, trying to look intent on his story.

“They were brutal,” Benedict said glumly, staring into the fire. “And I’m guessing out of some sense of familial propriety, they went easy on Kate and Anthony. I was the primary target. They didn’t just pummel me to the point I nearly fell off my horse, they did their best to drown me in the snow when I tried to retreat.”

“How awful,” Sophie was choking back laughter and silently impressed with the dedication of her brother and sisters-in-law. She knew that the Bridgerton siblings could always be counted upon for shenanigans when they gathered at Aubrey Hall over the Christmas holidays, but this was the first time she had seen Benedict bearing the weight of a prank. It was hilarious and adorable simultaneously, and her love for her in-laws swelled.

Benedict looked up and saw her trying to stifle herself. “You think this is funny?” He asked with mock annoyance.

All she could do was nod as she snorted behind her hand. 

“Well, let’s see how you like it.” With a mischievous gleam in his eye he leapt up and captured her in his arms and immediately she felt the cold and wet seeping through. Squealing, she jumped away and managed to get her laughter under control.

“We really must get you out of those clothes.” She chuckled, brushing the last of the snow out of his hair.

Smiling but nodding wearily, Benedict peeled off his jacket and Sophie hung it in a corner where it began to drip a puddle onto the floor. He then moved to the buttons of his deep green waistcoat but his fingers were so slippery and stiff with cold that they slid helplessly. Sophie was reminded of the night they were reunited, so many years ago when he rescued her from the Cavender party and she had put him to bed with a fever. She had had to undress him then, when it was scandalous for her to do so. In the time since, it had grown to be one of her most favorite and frequent activities. 

“Darling, let me,” she said softly, working top to bottom to slip each button loose. He grinned down at her gratefully, but she could see his teeth practically chattering, and could feel the cold pouring off of him. She felt a stab of concern. “You really are freezing, aren’t you?”

She knew her husband would never admit to a weakness out loud, but he gave her a lopsided smirk and quirked his head in such a way that communicated an affirmative. It was still comical how he found himself in this position, but she wanted to ensure his well being. The holidays would be dampened if someone came down with pneumonia, after all.

After she pulled the waistcoat down his arms, she pushed her chair closer to the fireside and instructed him to sit. Then she gathered a blanket from the bed and draped it around his shoulders. Benedict’s brows tilted upward in that gentle way that expressed his gratitude and happiness, and she felt her heart skip. She knelt in front of him and pulled off his boots and stockings. He had beautiful feet. Every part of her husband was beautiful, it was almost infuriating. Sophie had an aversion to feet, even her own. She had spent so much time polishing others’ shoes that she just wanted to avoid thinking about them anymore. Except his. Like the rest of him, they were strong and tendoned, but still slender and elegant. She loved to massage them, and took them into her hands to chafe his icy skin.

He tilted his head back with a groan. “God, Soph, thank you.”

Switching to his hands, she pulled them into her own and rubbed them gently, admiring his lovely long fingers as she worked over his knuckles. “We must thaw you out, Mr. Bridgerton.” The sweet smirk she gave him spread a warmth through his chest and he leaned forward to kiss her. Sophie couldn’t resist the press of her husband’s lips, but a chill ran down her spine when he pulled away.

“Benedict, your lips are frozen.” And then something exciting and oh so wicked flashed through her mind. Still holding his hands in her own, she arched a brow and looked up at him through her lashes. “I suppose I must kiss the life back into them.”

Then she was in his lap, her hands around his neck as she massaged his lips with her own, trying to stir them back to warmth. Benedict let out a happy moan, surging into her kiss, certain that her tongue was the most effective tool to invigorate him. He wrapped his arms around her and she shuddered. He was still cold, his shirt and trousers damp with melted snow, the press of his nose and fingers spreading a chill into her skin. It was like kissing a marble statue, but she couldn’t deny there was something titillating about it, the shock of ice competing with the familiar heat stirring inside.

Wordlessly, as their kisses grew deeper, she slid the blanket he was wrapped in back against the chair, then pulled his shirt over his head. It always hitched her breath when she saw his naked torso, so lean and muscular, sprays of freckles across his pale collarbone. Tentatively, she placed her palms on his chest. His skin was clammy and he sighed contentedly.

“You are so warm, Sophie.” He breathed as she glided her hands over him, pressing, chafing, unsure if she was actually helping him. She could feel desire knotting in her gut and just wanted to touch him, to admire him and feel his muscles tense beneath her fingers. The fire was burning hot beside them, and Benedict’s eyes were growing darker as he watched her. She wanted him, and she knew the best way to heat him up.

Taking his stiff fingers in hers once again, she stood and placed them above the neckline of her dress, her skin prickling at his cool touch. Benedict’s jaw locked, and she couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or the cold. Slowly, she guided his hands outward to her shoulders, snagging her dress beneath their joined fingers and letting it slide down her frame and pool on the floor. Benedict swallowed visibly, staring up at her and letting her puppeteer his aching fingers to undress her, as she repeated the same motion with her chemise. 

“Sophie,” his voice was low and needy, his pupils black and wide.

“Warm your hands, my love,” she smiled coyly at him. “Just here,” and she slid his fingers up beneath her stays to hold her just below her breasts. While she pulled the laces loose behind her back, Benedict held still, feeling the swell of her ribs as she breathed, basking in the heat of her body under her clothes. Against his frigid skin, she felt searing. 

When her stays slipped down her arms, she repositioned his hands, cupping them over her breasts. When he encircled her, she let out a soft moan, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Benedict felt her nipples peak against his palms and cursed under his breath. Lord above, where did he find such a woman? Not only a breathtaking beauty, but one whose imagination in their intimacies never failed to surprise him. He was indeed warming up now, feeling his blood start to rush into all of his extremities.

As he held her breasts, Sophie raised her foot to his knee and bent to slowly roll the stocking down her leg. An animal noise rose from the back of his throat, and he found he had regained enough dexterity in his fingers that he was able to massage her soft flesh, kneading and tweaking, coaxing delightful noises out of her as well. Sophie continued with the other stocking, then shimmied her underskirt off of her hips and onto the floor. She stood now between his legs, fully nude and glowing in the firelight. She was precisely the flame that Benedict needed to warm himself by. 

In a few fluid motions, Sophie knelt again, unbuttoned his trousers and peeled them off of him, leaving him naked and breathing raggedly in the chair, staring up at her, completely under the control of her whims. 

“How are your fingers now, Mr. Bridgerton?” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Benedict’s eyes were hazy. “Nearly back to full strength.”

“Nearly?” Sophie tutted. “An artist needs use of his fingers more than anything. We must warm you more quickly.” 

Then she moved back toward him, straddled her legs across his and lowered herself to sit on his thighs, wrapping the blanket back around his shoulders. Benedict watched with rapt attention as she pulled his right hand between their bodies and down to the apex of her legs, pressing his palm into her slick folds. She felt on fire.

Sophie groaned, fighting against the roll of her eyes as the chill faded from his skin, spreading into her and melting against the heat of her desire. Then she brought his left hand to her mouth, guiding his two longest fingers down her throat.

Benedict made a strangled noise as he watched her in awe, gently rocking her soaking mound against the heel of his one hand while she sucked the fingers of his other as deeply and diligently as if it were his cock. His hands were alive again, well and truly thawed by the pulsing wet muscles of her cunt and her throat. But he didn’t want to tell her that. He wanted her to keep going. He needed it.

When he rasped out her name, she released his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop. “Is this helping, my love?” She teased. “Are you warming up?”

“Starting to,” he wheezed, desperate for more of her attentions. 

“I see,” her brow furrowed playfully. “Let me hold you close, my darling. I think that will do the trick.”

He nodded eagerly, then hissed when her hand wrapped itself around his cock, which had been rising to stand between them. With practiced motions, she smoothed his skin up and down his length, squeezing and tugging precisely the way he liked, though much slower than he wanted. His breath escaped in needy huffs as she stroked him, and in moments he was as rigid as steel.

“My poor, frozen Benedict,” she cooed, her voice somehow both comforting and deeply sinful. “I will help you. I will keep you warm.” Then she shifted forward, releasing his hand pinned between them, and sank herself onto his cock, easing him in to the hilt.

The both moaned loudly, unable to contain themselves. Benedict felt himself wrapped in molten bliss, the heat from Sophie’s core radiating out through his every vein. Though his limbs were still stiff with cold, his nerves were set alight, his every sense tuned to the warm, soft goddess enveloping him.

“Soph,” he panted. “My knees still need a minute. I don’t…”

“Shhh,” her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she drowned his concerns with a kiss. “You don't need to do anything. We are not going to move. I am just going to sit here and warm you until you are fully recovered.” She pressed her torso even tighter against his and spread her arms down the muscles of his back under the blanket. 

“Your back is still cold, my love,” she whispered in his ear as she began to swirl her hands, chafing his skin with a rhythm that threatened to pull him into a trance.

Benedict muffled a contented sigh into the crook of her neck and dropped his head to her shoulder, melting into her, letting her hold him, wrapped in her arms and legs and body. He pulled the blanket around her back to envelop them both, cocooning them with the heat they built together. Sophie worked her hands across his back and neck and thighs and scalp, massaging sensation into every inch of his body, coaxing his muscles awake to find themselves delightfully entwined with her. The melted snow in his hair sent one last glistening drop down his jaw and she licked it away, tasting the metallic effervescence of snow, mixed with the familiar salt of his skin. 

For half an hour, they simply held each other, murmuring sweet nothings into each other’s skin and lapsing into long, languorous kisses where their tongues danced. Benedict felt his entire body steadily returning to life. Better than a hot bath, his wife warmed him from the inside out. First he thawed, then he simmered, and now he was approaching a blaze, as his arms found the strength to grip her more tightly and his thighs, no longer numbed, felt the wet heat of her womanhood dripping down over his cock. He stirred in her arms more and more, and his kisses grew hungrier, more forceful.

While at first Sophie triumphed in the coquettish act of sitting speared on Benedict’s cock and focusing her attention on the rest of his body, with each passing minute it became harder and harder to ignore the delicious ache building inside her. He was seated so tightly within her, pressing all the way to her cervix, stretching her so pleasurably. His slight movements, even just his deep exhales while she massaged him, caused him to drag slightly inside her and it was all she could do not to cry out each time. She had grown so wet, so swollen, just from the prolonged solid weight of him, that she was now throbbing. 

He was fully restored, that was evident, as his breath grew harsher and she felt the heat rising between them both inside the blanket. The poor, sodden man frozen with snow had melted entirely, burned away by the devilish seducer who haunted her bed and unlocked all of her desires.

As Benedict wound his fingers into her hair and plunged his tongue into her mouth, her nipples rasped hard against his chest. She moaned and clenched around him, hurtling close to the edge.

“Soph,” he groaned, bracing her in his arms and bending her back toward his lap, ready to pummel into her.

“Ben, wait!” She gasped, clutching at his nape. She was flushed, her lips bruised from kissing, and she felt so close to the brink that she was nearly in tears. “Don’t move. I’m nearly…I’m so close, just from…just from the feel of you. Please, please darling. Finish me…finish me with your words.”

Benedict’s mind spun. It was both humbling and outrageously flattering that he could bring her to this point without even moving. The thought that he could talk her into a climax and feel her come apart as she lay still in his arms made his cock twitch excitedly. He lowered to pin their bodies together and rumbled directly into her ear.

“My magnificent little wife, are you already about to go to pieces?” 

Her fingers pressed harder into his neck as she whimpered in reply.

“And I haven’t even moved yet. I haven’t fucked you properly. You have just been toying with me like the minx that you are, sitting on my cock, holding me in your beautiful cunt.”

Needy noises escaped through Sophie’s nose and she began to gulp for air.

“But it worked, my lovely,” Benedict continued, trailing his lips softly down her neck. “You warmed me through. You took care of me. But it seems you are now the one in a state of distress. And you won’t let me move? You won’t let me fuck that need out of you?”

His voice reverberating through her whole body, Sophie cried out and began to squirm. Benedict tightened his grip on her like a vice, pressing her flush against himself.

“Ah ah ah, stay still. Don’t break your own rules.” He whispered fiendishly. “I want to see if this works too.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “If you are so mad for my cock that just feeling it will do you in. Are you that much of a wanton, Sophie? Is your sinful body that hungry for me? You are burning up…”

“Ben…” she panted, eyes screwed shut. “Please…”

“I can feel you quivering darling, getting so, so tight. God, you feel so bloody good. You’re going to do it aren’t you? You clever little thing. You’re going to come on me right now, and I didn’t even have to lift a finger. You love my cock that much, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sophie squeaked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she held her breath. She was climbing the last steps to the peak, teetering on the edge. The heat between them was so intense, the tight weight so torturous.

“Then prove it.” He growled. “Come on my cock with your swollen little cunt. Give in, Sophie. Make me feel it.”

And she broke, following his commands as if her body was an orchestra that he conducted. With a scream she arced against him, fingernails clawing into his neck, her whole body jolting and fighting the hold of his arms. Her channel gripped him, hard and repeatedly, the sensation so strong, white lights danced before her eyes. Benedict could feel every inch of her, every ripple and every shuddering breath washing over him. Almost in alarm, he felt himself give way too. Rocking her against his hips and moaning into her breastbone, he felt her milk him for all he was worth. The pulses of their muscles echoed through one another, skimming aftershocks as they clung together. The only sounds in the room were their uneven breaths and the gentle crackle of the fire.

Sophie lolled in Benedict’s arms, a satiated smile breaking out across her face. “I trust you are feeling better now, husband?” 

The next day, much to everyone’s surprise, Benedict insisted on a rematch snowball fight, and Sophie joined in as well. Though they lost sorely to the other couples, they didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, they were smiling as they headed indoors, soaked and snow-crusted head to toe.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp

[laremsworld]

You know about the infamous „Bridgerton-Man-Leading-Role-Glow-Up“ right?

When it‘s Benedict‘s turn (calm down everybody, I am not saying he‘s next), I want him to actually have a glow-down.

Benedict was just disappointed by Lady Tilley and already in a bad mood, but then he meets HER. And suddenly everything has a meaning again. Unfortunately, she disappears.

He‘s been searching for two years now (when his season starts) and my man has lost all energy by now.

He hardly leaves his bachelor house a few minutes away from Anthony‘s residance. He didn‘t have s mistress for over two years which is unusual for him. He just sits at home and draws hands - always the same hands.

Needless to say, Violet and Anthony are worried af.

But then he suddenly disappears after attending a party and comes back witz Sophie and my man is glowing: he shaved, he put on colourful clothes again and he even makes a joke.

Anthony shares a glance with his mother, but Violet just says „I don‘t care that she‘s a lady‘s maid, Anthony. My son smiles again.“

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Light Switch

Synopsis: “Why are you callin’ at 11:30. When you only wanna do me dirty. But I hit right back ‘cause you got that, that yeah,”

The unhinged modern AU of the disfunctional Beneophies; both clearly in a total mess. Or the little Drabble that I can’t get out of my head inspired by the song Light Switch by Charlie Puth.

⚠️ SMUT. SMUT. NSFW. Very darker version of Benedict Bridgerton and Sophie Beckett. Benedict Bridgerton at his worst. Please be warned.

Read in AO3 from here!

Casanova, Casanova, Casanova

Sophie Beckett knew she shouldn’t take the call when the name popped out on the screen at 11:30 in the evening. Just out of the shower, Sophie was ready to curl herself in the sheets, already changed into her cotton checkered pajamas with a mug of mint tea in her hands. Working as a junior editor at the London office of the Whistledown was no easy job, and she knew it was wiser to ignore the call and rest for another hectic day ahead.

But even the inorganic digital letters were enough to make her feel his strong fingers trace the curves of her outline, his heavy breaths muttering her name like a benediction, his heat pressing hotly against her thighs, or even the weight of his thick length on her lips...

“Still up, my love?”

His hoarse deep voice from the speaker sent shivers down her spine, even though it was a muggy summer night in July. A few months earlier, Sophie’s heart would have fluttered at his endearment, but she was more experienced as to know that the same words had been whispered to countless men and women.

“Ben,”

“Be there in five,”

And just like that, Benedict Bridgerton was leaning against the door in the shabby hallway of her tiny studio apartment, with a crooked smile that never failed to make her knees melt.

“Good evening, Ms. Beckett.”

His tone was light and teasing, as always, but Sophie knew immediately that it was one of his desperate days as he grabbed the back of her neck in one swift motion, taking her into a deep, hungry kiss.

Cigarettes and whiskey, Sophie noticed the bitter taste on his lips, the familiar smell on his perfectly tailored jacket, insinuating that he had been in the posh upper-class parties. He was oddly wet and sweaty, adding a musky smell to his usual sandalwood cologne. As his grip on her hair tightened, his nails biting into her skin, she could hear her sanity screaming Don’t, Don’t, Don’t. But she couldn’t bring herself to slam the door in his face; ** his passionate kisses already left her dizzy and breathless, how could she ignore the burning hardness grinding her against her hips, igniting the blazing fire within her that only he could control?

Slamming the door behind him, Benedict pushed her against the wall, skillfully slipping his hands inside her pajamas, one hand pinching the tip of her breasts, the other hand already snaking below her waist. His lips curled into a smirk as he felt the slick mess between her legs when he hadn’t even touched the center of her pleasure.

“Aren’t you as convenient as ever?” Benedict cooed seductively, his hands were already working on the metal buckle of the belt. “Quite flattering when a phone call and a kiss is all it takes,”

“Ben, condoms,” Sophie managed to croak out between breaths and moans as his hands shoved down her pajama bottom and her underwear, both pooling shamelessly at her ankles.

“You’re not on pills?” Benedict stopped, jutting out his chin belligerently.

“I didn’t know that you were coming,”

Benedict cursed under his breath, and Sophie could only stare at him as he went through his pocket; a pack of cigarettes, a silver vintage lighter, and a rumpled fifty-pound note dropped at their feet. At last, he fished the pink wrapper from the bottom of his pocket, and he quickly took his stiffening cock in his hands, giving it several strokes. A wicked part of his mind was demanding to force Sophie to her knees, but all he could think was how he could be buried deep inside her. Immediately.

“Hands on the wall,” Benedict muttered as he rolled down the elastic on his shaft, and Sophie looked at him with her evergreen gaze, the innocence in her eyes making his cock twitch.

“But Ben,”

“You didn’t hear what I said?”

“Ben.”

“Hands.”

Slightly bending herself over against the wall, Sophie could hear Benedict’s animalistic growl as he gripped her hips, setting the tip of his shaft to her entrance. Sophie bit her lips to suppress a scream as Benedict pounded inside her in one quick thrust, tasting the faint taste of blood in her mouth.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

Despite the brutal pace Benedict had chosen to fuck her, rutting inside her in a merciless rhythm, his voice was achingly soft and tender, her name slipping out of his lips. Sophie could only moan and graze her nails against the wall as Benedict continued his deepest strokes, stretching her to her limits.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about this all night,” He rasped, grasping her blond curls in his hand, tugging the golden strands with each thrust. Hot tears filled her eyes as his teeth bit into her shoulders, leaving a hot striking pain on her skin. “All mine,” he growled, bringing his hands to her neck, tightening his grip around her throat. “Mine.”

“No,”

“No?”

“No.”

He winced slightly as Sophie’s nails bit into the back of his palm, a sharp snip on his skin. He quickly dropped his hands, but Sophie gently took his hands to hers, her delicate fingers intertwining with his.

“Like this,”

Sophie’s breathless whisper and the coolness of her fingertips made Benedict dizzy and hazy, more than the whiskey or the champagne he had chugged down a few hours earlier. He pushed deep within her with a new rigor; in an unrelenting grind, again and again. Sophie knew that she was in an utter mess; her whole body trembling and shaking at the burning sensation.

“Ben, please,” Sophie’s plea came out as a desperate sob, and Benedict softened his thrust, relaxing his grip. Finding a the small freckle on the back of her neck, in the brief second, Benedict placed his lips on the exact place, tasting the soft saltiness on her skin. But just at that moment, Sophie gave a small yelp and he felt her tighten around his cock. Benedict’s sanity just shattered into pieces.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

The sound of their hips snapping, Sophie’s small gasp and cries, and Benedict’s low grunts of her name were the only sounds that echoed through the room.

Sophie knew that he was close to his peak as his hips began to stutter, his breath becoming short and desperate as if he were grasping for air. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the imprints of her approaching climax as well. Sophie pushed against him, slamming her hand on the musky wall; a desperate bid to achieve her own release, but just as she was about to finish, Benedict throbbed inside her with a low and pathetic groan. Leaving her just on the edge. Sophie could feel his deep heavy breaths behind her neck, his heavy weight leaning against her from her back.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as she felt himself soften inside her. She quivered softly as Benedict quickly pulled out, suddenly feeling the coldness of the grey concrete floor on her feet. Tossing the remains in the bin with a practiced hand, Benedict picked up the plastic blue box of baby wipes from the overhead cupboard, passing it to her wordlessly. Sophie bit the corner of her lips, her fingers clenching as she watched Benedict zip himself back in his trousers, fumbling with his black leather belt. Benedict’s ears turned slightly red noticing that she had been staring at him. With a slightly guilty look, he timidly picked up her pajamas from her ankles with two fingers, readjusting her nighttime attire.

“I’ll call you,”

Benedict Bridgeton placed his hand on the doorknob, his right foot already an inch in the hallway, but against her better judgment, against her sanity, Sophie grabbed him by the wrist in the last second.

No, No, No, No. No. No. Terrible idea. Don’t look back. Let him Leave. Walk away. Walk away.

But she wanted him more. She needed him more.

“Stay.”

“Don’t go.”

One of the many wonderful qualities she learned about Benedict Bridgerton was that he was a profound deep sleeper; the complete opposite of herself, the sound of a pin drop could wake Sophie from her shallow sleep. But Benedict Bridgerton could dooze off in the London construction site. The rattling clamor of the morning streets and the ear-splitting sound of her alarm clock weren’t loud enough to wake him from his slumber. But if there was one thing that woke him from his dream, it was when Sophie tried to slip away from his embrace, trying to crawl out of the sheets of her own bed.

“Don’t go, yet,” With his eyes still closed, Benedict would tighten his arms around Sophie’s waist, and she would feel his nose nuzzling her neck. “Just five more minutes, darling.”

“I have to go to work, Ben.” Sophie tried to distract herself from Benedict’s hands which were starting to wander to her very weak places, his hand sliding to cup her breasts. Sophie whimpered as his thumb softly rubbed her nipples, her breath hitched as his other hand teased her folds, gently caressing the center of her pleasure. “Benny, stop. I’m not self-employed like you…”

“But you’re so ready for me,”

Sophie gasped when he dipped his finger into her core, already wet and flooding, as he curled his finger against her most sensitive places. Sophie gripped her cotton sheets, trying to find some release from his agonizing touch.

“Stay.” Benedict purred, deepening his movements from the back, adding another finger, knowing the exact places that would melt her into a puddle, “Come home with me, Sophie.”

But his raspy whispers turned into a pathetic groan as Sophie gave a playful nudge to his heated manhood, just slipping away from his embrace in a brief second. Benedict stared shamelessly at her slender body from the bedsheets, the soft morning light giving a glow to her soft bare skin. Benedict could see the red marks he had left on her skin, a small bite mark on her delicate shoulders, the place he had buried his teeth in. His cock twitched, yet again. But her marks (Or was it his marks?) were quickly hidden as Sophie slipped into an oversized t-shirt, the length just enough to cover her lovely rear. It was his worn-out Star Wars T-shirt, he noticed, the one he had left in her room three months ago. He had stumbled into her flat after a three-week trip to Paris Fashion Week, diving into her bed right from Heathrow airport.

“Can’t you model for me, Sophie?” Benedict asked as Sophie picked up his navy Dior suit from the floor, hanging the jacket on the window rails, and folded his trousers neatly on the chair next to the bed.

“Don’t you have other boys who would do that for you?” Sophie only returned a wry smile, softly shaking her head. Benedict watched as she placed her keys next to the 50-pound note now soothed out on the table.

Keys in the post, don’t forget again, Benedict could almost hear Sophie’s voice in his head.

“Fine, forget about the model. But aren’t you going to help me with this?”

Benedict tore off the sheets, exposing his morning glory in the sunlight.Taking his hardness in his hands, he plumped it several times, grinning as he saw Sophie lick her lips ever so slightly. His load was already leaking, and Benedict was hoping to fill her again, but it would be more lovely to have her lips around his, dipping a thumb in her mouth as she looked up at him with her watery eyes…

“Tempting, but no.” Sophie chuckled, throwing her pair of white lace knickers on the bed, “You’re a big boy, Benny. You can take care of yourself,”

Benedict groaned as Sophie disappeared into the shower. With a pair of knickers in one hand and his gleaming cock in the other, Benedict contemplated for a second, but he dropped everything, rushing after to squeeze himself into Sophie’s tiny bathtub.

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

The unnameable relationship with the up-coming artist Benedict Bridgerton had started almost a year ago, on the day of the Halloween Party hosted by Hasting&Co. She had tagged along with her colleague Eloise Bridgerton, who disappeared in the crowd right after they arrived at the venue. The flashing neon lights, the banging music overhead, the three delicious glasses of champagne, Sophie was enjoying herself so much so that she didn’t care she didn’t know the name of the beautifully handsome man who led her to the dance floor; she didn’t mind when he casually slipped his hands on her waist, or when he gently grinded his hips against hers, or even when his hands cupped her arse over her silver mini-dress. She was even stupid enough to lead him to her shitty one-room apartment, the one just above the Vietnamese restaurant. Too hazy, too impatient to even turn on the lights, the two bodies stumbled onto the mattresses; her old wooden bed frame giving an eerie creak all throughout the night. He had given her the best three orgasms of her life and fucked her senseless that she passed out in his arms, and for the first time in her life, she truly slept deeply, without any disruption at all.

When Sophie ran her fingers across his hair, his soft brown curls looking almost reddish in the warm morning sunlight; that was the moment she realized that the man snoring happily in her bed was the Benedict Bridgerton; the man she had seen in the posts of Whistledown number of times. She did panic, dropping flat on her face from her bed, knocking her forehead on the floor, but it was him who carried her back onto the mattress, sinking her into the sheets yet again. For the next four days, Benedict didn’t even leave her room; luring her in bed every time she got home from work.

“What are we, exactly?” It was the question she should have asked on that very morning, but Sophie was too focused on the sweet sensation Benedict was giving to her, his fingers exploring every bit of her body.

It didn’t take such a long time to realize that Benedict Bridgerton wasn’t exactly, exclusive.

The first time, it was two days after Benedict finally left her flat, (He was in dying need of fresh clothes) Sophie braved the courage to call him, wanting to ask him if he wanted to stop by for some chicken noodle soup.

“Wouldn’t you like a sip?” Sophie nervously repeated those words as she listened to the waiting call. She finally heard a click on the other end, but it was the voice of a woman who had answered, not the rich deep voice of Benedict Bridgerton.

“He’s in the shower now,” Her London cockney accent sounded oddly hoarse and amorous, “I can take your message if you want,” It would have been much easier for Sophie if her words had some malice, but her tone was sweet and gentle, almost soothing as if she had sensed her panic on the other end. Benedict had banged on her door at midnight the very day, leaving her no choice but to open her door, giving him the chance to kiss her senselessly, making her forget all the anger and the sadness that battered her soul.

“I don’t do relationships,” Benedict had guiltily admitted over their morning cup of Earl Grey. “I’ll leave if you want, I really don’t mind if you don’t want any of this,”

Come to think of it, that was the moment Sophie should have walked away. But instead, she had grabbed him by the collar and took her lips to his, slightly tiptoeing to reach the corner of his mouth.

“Stay.” She had murmured on his lips. “Don’t go,”

The second time, was the day of her father’s funeral. It was the third day of December, and Sophie could still feel the shivering wind as she rushed to the chapel, the place she managed to find after intense research on Social Media. But Sophie was kicked out the moment she reached the entrance, her stepmother shrieking and screaming something about fucking bastards and shame to the family name. Still shaken from Aramita’s shrieks or the devastating fact that she would never see her father’s face ever again, Sophie found herself standing on the doorsteps of Benedict’s art studio. With shaking hands, she rang the doorbell, and a beautiful handsome man with soft brown curls appeared at the door. Only dressed in grey sweatpants, he did look puzzled for a second seeing a girl all in black with a bouquet of lilies in her hands, but he seemed to notice her, greeting her with a smile.

“Please, call me Henry,” he introduced himself as he led her to the spacious sitting room, “It’s an honor to meet the muse in person finally,”

But Sophie noticed the panic on Benedict’s face as he appeared in the room, wrapped in a silk green robe. Through the crack of the door, she could see three bare shoulders laid across the bed. Their legs tangling on the white covers.

“You never told me that your new muse would be joining us, Bridgerton,” Henry had smiled over his cup of tea, “I’m sure the others would be delighted as well…”

“Oh. Um. I’m not. I’m just.”

“Henry, she’s not,”

“Not the sharing kind is she?” Henry broke out in an enigmatic smile, “It’s never too late to explore new territories…”

But before Henry could finish his sentence, Sophie had stumbled out from her seat, hastily mumbling something about work and errands. As she sprinted across the rainy streets of London, Benedict had caught her in the wrist, just at the start of the street crossing, grabbing her in a tight grip.

“I can’t just leave you all alone, Sophie,”

Benedict had helped her back to her apartment, and for the first time in the relationship, Benedict only cuddled her on the battered mattress, holding her tight as she sobbed in his arms.

The third time was at the Christmas Party at the London Arts Gallery. Sophie had been given a chance to write an article for the arts division, and she had been running around the venue with a notebook, a camera, and a voice recorder in her hands. Sophie almost dropped her camera when she saw Benedict Bridgerton walz into the gallery with a glamorous lady in his arms, a slightly older lady with gorgeous blond locks dressed in a Chanel vintage dress.

“That’s Lady Tilley Arnold.” A chatty gentleman had whispered to her excitedly seeing how Sophie just stood there with her mouth hanging open. “A patron to a number of up-coming artist in London you see, the London arts scene is entirely based on by her financial sponsorship…”

But, it wasn’t how Benedict kissed Lady Tilley passionately in the lips or how the two danced together beautifully on the dance floor that brought her in shambles. It was when his green eyes met hers, and gave her a casual smile and a little wave. Not even a flinch.

At that moment, Sophie realized that Benedict Bridgerton thought nothing about her.

It was his charm. His smiles. His lovey-dovey eyes. His witty, sarcastic quips. As she observed him from the corner of the gallery, Sophie noticed that he chronically flirted with every single person he passed by, igniting sexual tension in every single conversation.

And Sophie was finally aware of the fact that she was just one of the long list of lovers in Benedict Bridgerton’s life. After the third, Sophie stopped counting, and after three months, Sophie Beckett embraced the term “friends with benefits ” all in one hand. After all, it was nice to have a comfortable warmth in bed, wasn’t it?

Sophie could never reject him when he gave a call at 11:30 in the night, often showing up drunk and wasted, with a faint smell of whiskey and weed, because he gave her what she always craved, a little bit of love and every bit of warmth.

But what further sank her into inner turmoil was when Benedict sometimes gave her more than a little bit of love.

Sometimes, Benedict would stay in her shabby studio apartment for a whole day, preparing a beautiful hand-cooked dinner on the table, after Sophie came home tired and exhausted from work.

“You told me like you like Bolognese,” Benedict would laugh wholeheartedly as Sophie took another helping of the gorgeous tomato sauce.

“Benedict, this is absolutely gorgeous.”

Sometimes, Benedict would come with a bouquet of flowers in her hands, filling the room with the smell of wildflowers and Lilly of the Valleys. Sometimes it would be lilacs, tulips, roses, and hyacinths.

Every once in a while, Benedict would wake up earlier than Sophie, (when she was too exhausted from Benedict’s relentless pursuits) and a perfect morning table would be set before her eyes; the tiny surface filled with tea and omelets, croissants, and fresh strawberries. And Benedict would send her off to work with a gentle kiss.

Then, he wouldn’t contact her for weeks. Sophie would only read the scandalous headlines and see his charming eyes from the Whistledown Gossip posts, often along with beautiful models and actors.

Then, Benedict would call her at 11:30 in the evening, telling her that he would be there in five. Just only to fuck her. And she would let him.

“Are you okay, Sophie?”

Sophie broke from her daze, her stepsister was looking at her worryingly, Posy’s soft hands gently pulling Sophie back to a beautiful summer day in St. James Park. Sophie had forgotten for a second that she had been on an outdoor picnic on her day off; with Posy and her newborn baby, Sophia.

“I’m all right,”

Sophie answered with a smile, cradling her baby in her arms. Little Sophia let out a small giggle as Sophie nuzzled her soft skin with her nose.

“She’s looking more and more like you every time I meet her,”

“Sophie, please don’t change the subject,” Posy grabbed her lightly in the wrist. “It’s not Phillip Cavender, is it?”

“It’s not him, Posy. You know he’s not allowed to contact me…”

“Then why do you have a bruise on your neck?”

Damn. Sophie knew that she should have worn a scarf or a turtle neck, but it was just too hot, and Sophie had tried to cover it up with more puffs and foundations. But of course, Posy would notice, and with Posy’s patient coaxing and her peanut butter sandwich, Sophie ended up spilling out every story she had kept inside herself.

Posy listened to her whole story in silence, but her blue eyes widened and widened as she continued the whole story of her complicated relationship with Benedict Bridgerton.

“Sophie, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m all right, Posy.”

“Sophie Beckett, look me in the eye and tell me that you are completely okay.” Posy tugged on her white shirt, nudging Sophie to turn her head.

“Posy,”

“Look me in the eyes, Sophie.”

“….It’s not like he physically punches me or anything,”

“Oh, Sophie.”

“He doesn’t kick me in the stomach when I can’t wake up from period cramps,”

“Sophie,”

“He cooks chicken soup for me, Posy,” Sophie felt tears coming up to her eyes as she continued her words, “Telling me that it would warm me up,”

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

Posy rubbed her shoulders as Sophie broke down in sobs, perhaps for the first time Posy had seen her in years. Posy took her towel handkerchiefs from her backpack, Sophie accepting it in quivering hands. Posy reached out her arms and took Sophie into a tight embrace.

“I understand that he’s kind and sweet to you, Sophie.” Posy gently said, “But you deserve much much more Sophie. You say that you are all right about the relationship, but it’s hurting you, Sophie. I can see it in your eyes,”

Sophie couldn’t quite reply, overwhelmed with tears and sobs. It took her more than a minute to calm herself down, trying to take deep breaths.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself,” Sophie found herself saying her voice shaking and quivering, “why I keep choosing people who treat me like absolute shit, who treat me like some kind of a toy…”

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” Posy quietly said. “Have you ever watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower?”

“No,”

“When I heard this line in that movie, it opened my mind, Sophie. You remember how Mother and Rosamund treated us.”

Sophie nodded.

“Brush your hair, stop slouching, and pick up your feet, the dress looks terrible on you. Too fat, too chubby. I stopped eating, and then it would be too skinny, too bony….I hated myself, Sophie. I would have killed myself if you weren’t there for me, Sophie.”

Sophie gently took her sister’s hand, rubbing the soft palm. Their childhood memories were still fresh and painful, she knew how they both struggled to even talk about them.

“But when I left home, I noticed that I wasn’t ugly or unattractive as I believed myself to be, and I…I actually liked myself, more than I had ever imagined.”

“You’re beautiful, Posy.”

Posy smiled, tilting her head to Sophie’s shoulders.

“And then I met Hugh, and he has given me so much love that I never thought I would experience. And I’ve never felt so happier than any moment of my life.” Posy stroked her baby’s hair, the same anglic curls as Hugh’s. “And you deserve to be happy too, Sophie. I just want you to be happier,”

The scenery in front of Sophie suddenly became misty yet again.

“You are the most beautiful, and the kindest person that I have ever met, Sophie,” Posy looked into her eyes, and Sophie could feel tears running down her cheeks, “Do you know why I named my daughter after you? I wanted her to be a kind, compassionate soul, just like you.”

“You need to take care of yourself more, Sophie. Because You deserve much much more,”

Sophie let herself cry in her sister’s arms again, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing away about everything, everything, and everything.

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

Benedict tapped on the door at 11:35, it was close to midnight, but he knew that Sophie would be awake. She hadn’t answered his call, but he knew she would be there; perhaps curled up in the bed with a novel in hand.

Benedict kept taping, kept taping, and kept taping, but there was no answer. He was gradually becoming impatient, his knocks changing into slams and bangs; his knuckles becoming more crimson every second.

“KEEP IT DOWN, will’ ya?”

A man in a shabby robe appeared from the other side of the hallway, rubbing his red swollen eyes. Benedict took a step back seeing a baseball bat in his right hand, a slight panic creeping up to his spine.

“I’m incredibly sorry to disturb you so late at night,” He sputtered, fidgeting his hands nervously, “I was trying to contact a friend, and I was worried because she wasn’t answering my calls or anything…”

“You’re the boyfriend?”

“Pardon?”

“Small, green eyes, curly hair?”

“Yes, yes.” He gritted his teeth. God, the man was telling him nothing, couldn’t he tell that he was worried about her? “My girlfriend might be unconscious inside here, would you mind contacting the landlord for me…”

“Get out.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, get the fuck out of this building.”

“But,”

“GET OUT!”

Benedict was chased down the stairs of the apartment, the man violently waving the metal baseball bat at him. He was lucky that he wasn’t hurt at all, but the disdain in the man’s eyes made him shudder. He didn’t see him as a stalker did he? He was just there because he was worried, it wasn’t as if he was chasing her down or anything….

Benedict again visited her apartment the next morning, carefully avoiding the man in the robe, but there was no answer. Benedict spent the whole day on the window table of the Vietnamese restaurant, ordering something off the menu every hour, (He called Colin for endorsement, and he happily ate away seven Goi cuons, a plate of Banh Khots, and two helpings of seafood Pho.) Benedict stayed there until the Waiter tapped him on the shoulder, telling him it was time to close shop.

“Do you happen to know Ms. Beckett?” Benedict asked the waitress in the cashier, knowing that it was a useless endeavor. And just as he thought, the woman only returned a puzzled look.

“Um, she’s about this high, green eyes, beautiful curls? Named Sophie Beckett?”

“Oh, Sophie!”

Benedict felt his heart leap as the Waitress’s lips widened in a smile, “Such a precious girl, isn’t she? She would always help me out with the cleaning on Friday nights…”

“She still lives upstairs, doesn’t she?”

“Haven’t you heard?” The Waitress tilted her head, “She moved out several weeks ago, said something about moving in with her stepsister or something…”

“Oh,”

“Pity, isn’t it?” The waitress continued, “Not only did we lose a precious customer, we lost a tutor for my boy, she was looking after SAT studies every Sunday…”

“Why are you so obsessed with her?” Colin asked while munching on some leftover Banh mi, as the two walked down the streets of London. Colin had been crashing on the couch of Benedict’s Georgian Townhouse, a three-week stay between his travels. Benedict ignored his question, not in the mood to respond to his brother’s inquiry. After all, he had been completely rejected by Sophie Beckett. “Never seen you chase after one girl, brother. I thought she was just one of your girls.”

Benedict sighed. Colin’s words were true; Sophie Beckett was just one of the names he would call when he needed a quick lay. But she was different; he had to admit, he didn’t have to care about being witty or debonair in front of her, he could drop his so-called “charismatic” artistic persona. She didn’t seem to mind even if he was drunk or miserable or entirely messed up; Any state he was, she would welcome him with open arms.

Deep in his heart, he knew he was taking advantage of her fathomless kindness. He also knew she wanted more from him; a committed relationship, a monogamy. But he had lived the majority of his adulthood wandering around in countless beds, and he didn’t exactly want to change his hedonic habits for just one simple girl.

“I understand,” Sophie had smiled over her morning cup of Earl Grey, but he had noticed that her fingers flinched for just a second, “I’ve seen too many broken relationships, too.” and Benedict didn’t dare to say that was not the reason.

Once, he had seen his rose bouquet abandoned in the outside bin. Just when he had stepped outside for a smoke, at the backdoor of the Vietnamese restaurant. The red petals crumbled with leftovers and paper napkins, the one he had given two nights before.

But she never scolded him for sleeping around, never rejected him when he tapped on her door. Taking in all the irritation, the insecurities, or the stress he thrust inside her.

Just one simple girl. Wasn’t that what she was?

“I have to find her, Colin.”

But she’s just a simple girl,

“I need her, Colin,”

But she’s just a girl,

But Sophie Beckett was always there for him, as if she were made for him; accepting him for as he truly was. Giving him comfort, the love, giving herself, no matter what. But what had he done in return? Some flowers, some handmade dishes? Hasn’t he exploited her to the limit?

“You’ve been doing very well, Mr. Bridgerton.” His physiologist had a surprised look at his last appointment, “A whole year off from drugs; astonishing achievement…”

It was because of her. She had been his medicine, his remedy, his pills.

“Bro, shouldn’t you take no as a no?”

“Yes, no, yes.” Benedict stuttered, “But, god, I owe her thousands of apologies,”

“If you are so desperate to find her, why don’t you contact the stepsister? If you cut off the other ladies and beg on your knees, she might change her mind,”

“I didn’t know that she had a step-sister,”

“That is a terrible red flag, Brother.” Colin scrunched his nose. “Where is she from? Maybe she’s back at her hometown…”

“She’s from the countryside,”

“AND THAT’S THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW?” Colin dropped the half-eaten Banh mi on the pavement. “God, I knew you like to keep it casual, but I didn’t know that you were that casual,”

“Well, I know her favorite color is green and she loves Lilly of the Vallys…”

“And is that information going to help you find her?”

“…No.” Benedict couldn’t quite look into his brother’s eyes.

“Perhaps you could contact her workplace. Where did she say that she worked?”

“She works as a junior editor,”

“At where?”

“I actually don’t know.”

Colin smacked him in the head.

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

Sophie walked through the art gallery, carefully stopping at each picture, and observing the intricate details of each color and strokes. Ever since she moved to Wilshire and got a job in the local bookstore, it became a regular habit to visit every once in a while for the new exhibition. She found it soothing, walking in silence all alone, exploring the places each piece took her; almost as if she were navigating through the minds of other hundreds of people.

But Sophie stopped, or quite frankly, she had to stop.

It’s not every day you see a painting of yourself, is it?

It was a portrait of her, an oil painting of about a notebook size. She recognized her blond curls, her green eyes, but it was the clothes the girl was wearing that first caught her eyes; the worned out Stars Wars T-shirt she threw out in the bin two years ago.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing in front of the portrait. But she couldn’t help noticing how he managed to capture every bit of her in one painting, her messy morning curls, her scruched eyebrows, every curve of her body…

As she glanced at the description on the left corner, Sophie stopped breathing, the heat coming up to her cheeks,

Benedict Bridgerton; Love on my Life;

“Sophie?”

Sophie recognized his deep, soft voice, but she didn’t dare to look back. Even after two years, his voice didn’t fail to make her knees feel weak, bringing the same shivers she felt every time he called him. His sweet lips on hers. His hands everywhere.

Same, same, same, all over again.

Sophie knew that if she looked back, she would fall in love all over again, repeat the same mistakes, two years of intense therapy all in waste. Sophie closed to eyes, but she could hear his footsteps approaching, gradually, but hesitantly. Sandalwood and soap, she recognized, but she noticed the absence of the alcohol and cigarettes. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.

But her heart leaped, and her stomach fluttered with just his presence, just like when they first met.

“Give me one more chance, Sophie,”

“Give me a chance to love you again,”

#writer's notes

"We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist,"

[ao3feed-kathony]

A Vow We'll Both Uphold Somehow

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55931476 by pieface98 It's Francesca's wedding weekend at Aubrey Hall, and her entire family is coming up to celebrate. What could possibly go wrong? Sophie Beckett has been Daphne Bridgerton-Basset's best friend for twenty-years. What Daphne doesn't know is that Sophie has harbored a massive crush on her brother, Benedict Bridgerton, since she was eighteen. And what Benedict doesn't know is that he kissed Sophie one drunken Halloween three years before. Sophie was perfectly happy pretending the night never happened, but when she shows up to Fran's wedding and suddenly Benedict is looking at her in a way he never did before, she starts to wonder if maybe, something might finally happen between them. But when everything that could possibly go wrong at the wedding does, everyone has to put aside their feelings to make sure Francesca's wedding happens at all. Benophie Modern AU, other pairings are mostly on the side. Words: 14772, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Sophie Beckett, Benedict Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Daphne Bridgerton, Simon Basset, Eloise Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Francesca Bridgerton, John Stirling I, Michael Stirling, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Agatha Danbury Relationships: Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton, Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Francesca Bridgerton/John Stirling I, Francesca Bridgerton & Michael Stirling, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Benophie, Other pairings show up, No Beta, we die like edmund, fluff mostly, some angst later, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Humor, We all know the Bridgertons only share one brain cell, Francesca has it most of the time, Anthony is a happy drunk, Wedding, Fran is marrying John, Aubrey Hall (Bridgerton), Simon is an Avengers fan, Anthony is a Whitney Houston fan, All the Brothers are tone deaf and can't sing sorry read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55931476

[apinchofm]

Fic Rec Friday

its that time of the week again!

with elaichi by serendipityinwords (@darlinggod)

Modern Kathony and gay!Edwina and Eloise? Love it!

Beckett Begins by TheViscountessWrites (@viscountessevie)

Was reminded of this and it is just the sweetest I love nb!Sophie Beckett.

Striking a Balance by sneetchstar

Gwen and Arthur arranged marriage AU! I love this so much and this author has so many cute Arthur and Gwen fics!

The Professor and His Assistant by @silverhallow

So super steamy and super good - brilliant as always from one of my fave Benophie writers!

what fairytales don't tell you about the wicked stepmother by @asphodelesauvage

Love this modern!Rhaenicent fic with a bit of religious repression and super hot firefighter Rhaenrya. Can't wait for the next chapter!

A Moment is a Mile by JourneymanFive

A Lady Danbury X Mary smut fic I just found and yes, my superior femslash fic!

[writingwhilecaffeinated]

20 Questions for Fan Fic Writers~

First, thank you @crotchety-old-emu for tagging me, it was kind of you, and I had fun doing this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

49, admittedly quite a few unfinished. I’m hoping now that I’m older and on a better roll with finishing I’ll go back to some… eventually. This is not including old stuff from FFN and LJ that just either wouldn’t go well on AO3 Or don’t have fandoms to speak of anymore.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

436,778

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Bridgerton. But done Harry Potter, Sense8, The Old Guard, The Little Mermaid (Live Action. Jonah and Halle were precious, ok???), Doctor Who, Julie and the Phantoms, Narnia, Avengers… waaaaaay back on LJ I did some KPOP fandoms and WAAAAAAYYY back on FFN I write for InuYasha, Merlin, Prince of Tennis. Like, I was YOUNG. It was a time. 😆

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. no matter the years (my heart is yours) - Bridgerton Reverse Harem. Penelope with Anthony and Benedict and eventually Colin, but it’s hidden because it’s still set in the Regency. No incest, just good old polyandry. While admittedly the smut scenes are explicit, it had a lot more emotional heart than even I originally planned.

2. Bathymetry of the Heart - Little Mermaid Live Action, telling of Eric/Ariel after they’re reunited. Just emotional fluff.

3. some of it’s transcendental (some of it’s just really dumb) - Bridgerton, Benelope story. Basically season 3 ish if it became Benelope. I had a vision of what I wanted, no one else had written it so I just… did it myself. It is also very sweet and more emotion than what I originally intended. Not as much smut as I thought.

3. Curiosities - continuation of the first Ariel/Eric.

4. Proud of Your Boy - Same as above

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try very hard to respond. I don’t always get to them, but I try to even to those that are just a heart or something. I only don’t respond to outright mean comments. Better to just ignore.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

One that was a one-shot from forever ago, a super weird crossover to. It was soon after the avengers movie came out and it was a crossover with Doctor Who, and Steve fell for River Song but he would never tell her cause she so obviously love the Doctor. Don’t judge me! Honestly it’s a one-shot series called “i defy you stars.”

7. What’s the fic you wrote eith the happiest ending?

Most of them, I’m not good with writing sad endings. ANGSTY middles yeah, but not endings most of the time.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

For sure! Mostly on my reverse harem, the ABC+P one. People though I didn’t like Colin for how his character was treated and ended up, and that’s not it at all. Colin was just in a completely different place from his brothers, and in my head even past the story I wrote he grows more and fits into the family created beautifully and maturely, eventually staying home full time. But I didn’t have enough space in that narrative to tell that so it didn’t come off well to most people.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I didn’t used to, I used to be very uncomfortable with it. But I wanted something specific in order to tell the story and it just… happened? Now I’ve become a heathen and gotten slightly more kinky with it. 😆

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Yup, see above. The Avengers and Doctor Who one for sure.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of/remember.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not in the sense of splitting the writing but definitely in terms of plot planning!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I can’t pick one, I’m sorry. I’m Bridgerton right now it’s Benelope (let me be clear I LOVE Benophie and Polin! I’m just a crackship girly by nature). HP it’s Fremione or Dramione. The Old Guard It’s Nicky/Joe. There’s a lot more I’m forgetting.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably Pick Your Poison, a Dramione fic where Hermione enters an underground ring that’s like Russian roulette but with poisons. I liked the idea.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oof um… I’m tough on myself. That’s hard. Can I say “ideas”? Im great at developing plot points and stories, maybe even character reflections.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Details that aren’t what the characters are doing. I focus too much on body movement and not what else is going around that could tell the story.

Oh, and commas are my enemy.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Limited personally. If the character knows another language I do my best to research it, but otherwise I avoid.

19. First fandom you write for?

InuYasha on FFN.

20. Favorite fics you’ve written?

Probably some of it’s transcendental (some of it’s just really dumb) because I proved to myself writing that gif I could write a chartered story to completion, and with writing I was proud of.

Also one of my The Old Guard ones, mostly because I wrote a fight scene I was proud of -> When You Least Expect It

Tagging @velvetcovered-brick, my lovely friend who has been helping me talk out my latest fics lately. ♥️♥️♥️ youuuuuu.