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This round is now closed!
Dearest Reader
As all good things, the Bridgerton Kinkmeme must come to an end. It is as bittersweet for This Author as it is for you, dear reader. Never fear, for though the kinkmeme itself if closed, the scandalous prompts and fills remain, and can be perused at any time. For ease of access, visit the sorting page where you will find a searchable list of the prompts and fills.
This Author has an inkling that with such success, the event is likely to run again someday.
Until then
Lady Kinkydown
No Warnings
Art
- Genevieve Delacroix/Siena Rosso Comforting Siena (complete art)
- Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Penelope sitting on Colin's face (complete art)
- Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield (Sharma) Kate pegging Anthony. (complete art)
- Lady Danbury/Will Mondrich Lady Danbury offers to be Will's benefactor with side perks (complete fic)
- Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton/OFC Simon takes Daphne to a brothel (WIP fic)
- Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton Breeding Kink (complete fic)
- Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington reading erotica together (complete fic)
- Simon Basset/Anthony Bridgerton Fuck or die (complete fic)
- Simon Basset/Eloise Bridgerton simon cheats on daphne (complete fic)
- Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Colin walking in on Penelope masturbating (complete fic)
With Warnings
Art
- Anthony Bridgerton/Daphne Bridgerton (tw: incest) Anthony going down on Daphne in the kitchen (complete art)
- Anthony Bridgerton/Daphne Bridgerton (tw: incest) Domestic Discipline (complete art)
Fics
- Benedict Bridgerton/Eloise Bridgerton (tw: incest) Benedict fingers Eloise (complete fic)
- Anthony Bridgerton/Benedict Bridgerton/Daphne Bridgerton (tw: incest, dub-con) Daphne's brothers teaching her about sex (complete fic)
- Anthony Bridgerton/Eloise Bridgerton (tw: incest) orgasm denial (complete fic)
- Anthony Bridgerton/Daphne Bridgerton (tw: incest) Anthony saves Daphne's nudes (complete fic)
- Anthony Bridgerton/Benedict Bridgerton/Colin Bridgerton/Eloise Bridgerton (tw: incest) Eloise’s brothers fuck her in all her holes (complete fic)
- Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington (tw: underage) Dirty talk (complete fic)
- Benedict Bridgerton/Eloise Bridgerton (tw: incest, underage) Eloise spies Benedict masturbating, and he catches her. (complete fic)
Tags:
(frozen) Benedict/Eloise/Genevieve Delacroix (Incest & possible Dub-Con)
Date: Feb. 13th, 2021 11:27 pm (UTC)Bonus points if Benedict or Eloise can't see the other's face/don't recognize the other or pretend they don't
(frozen) eloise/marina
Date: Feb. 13th, 2021 11:31 pm (UTC)(frozen) Benedict/Eloise (incest)
Date: Feb. 13th, 2021 11:46 pm (UTC)(frozen) Anthony/Kate
Date: Feb. 13th, 2021 11:51 pm (UTC)(frozen) Marina/Lady Featherington
Date: Feb. 13th, 2021 11:52 pm (UTC)(frozen) eloise/phillip
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 12:04 am (UTC)(frozen) Benedict/Eloise (incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 12:31 am (UTC)(frozen) Eloise/Simon
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 12:38 am (UTC)(frozen) anthony/eloise (incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 01:04 am (UTC)(frozen) Re: anthony/eloise (incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 04:57 pm (UTC)(frozen) Francesca/Michael
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 02:11 am (UTC)(frozen) Eloise/Benedict (incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 02:21 am (UTC)(frozen) Colin/Marina
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 02:34 am (UTC)(frozen) (no subject)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 05:05 am (UTC)Re: Eloise/Benedict
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:20 am (UTC)I will delete and repost with the correct warning.
(frozen) Eloise/Anthony (Incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 05:50 am (UTC)(frozen) Re: Eloise/Anthony (Incest)
Date: Feb. 26th, 2021 11:01 pm (UTC)(frozen) Eloise/Benedict (Incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:02 am (UTC)(frozen) Eloise/Benedict (incest)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:21 am (UTC)(frozen) Anthony/Siena
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:29 am (UTC)Inspired by this moment:
(frozen) Daphne/Simon
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:31 am (UTC)(frozen) Anthony/Benedict/Daphne (incest & possible dubcon)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:32 am (UTC)(frozen) Teach me part 1
Date: Feb. 15th, 2021 08:13 pm (UTC)She tried asking her mother, but only received a wholly useless, vague brush off, which made her, for the first time in her life, despise her mother a little. She had this knowledge that Daphne desperately needed and for some unknown reason was refusing to share it with her daughter.
Outside her mother, her options were limited. She considered speaking to Simon of course, but now that they were to be married she felt too embarrassed to bring it up. And if she was being honest with herself, she already felt at a disadvantage with him. She didn't want to be fully at his mercy in this matter. She wanted to be prepared and able to stand up on her own, whatever that may mean in the context. That left only one viable option. Her brother, Anthony.
Anthony had always tried to protect her and make sure she had the best of everything so she hoped that in this matter too he would want to assist her. Despite his flaws, there was no one Daphne trusted more than him. And, if for some reason he too would try to deny her, she resolved to keep pushing until she got her answer.
She put aside the hairbrush and took a few steadying breaths to try and calm her wild heartbeat before she set out. She quietly left her room and crept along the corridors down to the study where she was fairly certain Anthony would still be at this hour, pouring over some papers, trying to fulfil his duty as head of the household. She did not want to come across any of her other siblings or any other member of the household, so she kept an eye out and moved through the house carefully.
She was not wrong about Anthony still being up but, as she pushed open the study door she saw that he was done with work. He and Benedict were sitting on the leather furniture, tumblers of whiskey in hand, laughing heartily. Anthony was splayed on the love seat, in his shirt and trousers only, looking loose and relaxed. Benedict was in the leather chair leaning on the wooden sides with his elbows. He had also dispensed with his jacket.
As Daphne pushed in, both of their faces turned toward her and Anthony’s face split into a wide smile at the sight of her.
“Sister! Come in, come in. Couldn’t sleep?” He exclaimed good-naturedly. Daphne smiled despite herself. Since their father passed it was a rare sight indeed to see Anthony in such good humour. She could see that he was quite a bit on the drunk side, but maybe that would make him more likely to tell her what she wanted to know. Benedict’s presence was a complication but she had come too far to turn back now.
“I see you are enjoying yourself, brothers,” she said, with a little mischief in her voice.
“You won’t tell mother, will you?” Anthony responded and lightly tapped the spot next to him for Daphne to sit down. Daphne sat where directed, the amusement at finding her brother in this state helping settle her nerves.
“Tell us what ails you at this hour, sister?” Benedict piped in.
Daphne hesitated. Yet again she was questioning whether this was an appropriate topic to discuss with her brothers. But, Benedict and Anthony were both staring at her quite intently waiting for her answer and she had already resolved to do this, so she took a breath, reached over and pulled the glass out of Anthony’s hand. She raised the glas a touch aiming it in the direction of both brothers and took a gulp, her face scrunching up as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat. The men didn’t say anything but they were very clearly amused.
“Well, I was wondering if you might help me clear up a little query I’ve got,” she said, feeling her heart beating wildly but making herself finish, “what happens between man and wife on their wedding night?” The effect of the question was instantaneous. The grin just slid off Anthony's face and Benedict’s eyebrows shot up as he threw an unreadable glance to Anthony. Anthony regarded Daphne for a moment before replying.
“I don't think this is an appropriate topic for you to discuss with your brothers, Daphne,” Anthony said carefully, confirming exactly what Daphne had been thinking. But there was no one else to discuss it with, and she needed to know.
“Anthony, I am to be married in less than a week. Don’t you think it is a little unfair that I am to go into my marriage bed not knowing what awaits me there?” The unfairness of it was choking her up just a touch.
“I suppose now is the time for you to know, little sister, isn’t it?” Benedict said from his chair. He had a mysterious smile that Daphne couldn’t quite read.
Daphne looked back to Anthony, who was looking at Daphne very intently, making her feel a little uncomfortable. He glanced at Benedict who just shrugged.
“That’s not how...” he started, but Benedict interrupted him.
“Come now, Anthony, you don’t really want Simon to be the only one with the answers in that room. We must help our little sister out,” he said with a grin. The mention of Simon’s name clearly had an effect, as Anthony winced. He glanced at Benedict with a bit of a scowl before looking back to Daphne, and she realised with a small jolt of triumph that he was about to tell her.
“On a wedding night your husband will… make love to you,” he stumbled a little. Even saying that much was clearly costing him a lot, but that didn’t really tell her much, she didn’t know what this meant. She was just about to ask for an explanation when Benedict saved her the trouble.
“Anthony is being too vague, sister. What he means,” he paused, “is that you and your husband will engage in a pleasurable act together.” Anthony glared at him. Daphne felt heat climbing up her neck but this still wasn’t telling her anything.
“What does that mean?” She exclaimed with some annoyance, exacerbated by the fact that she felt at a complete disadvantage in front of them. It was so unfair that they got to know and she had to beg for scraps of information.
“Daphne,” Anthony said with a bit of exacerbation creeping to his own voice. “These topics are not really discussed between ladies and gentlemen. Perhaps mother could assist you?”
Daphne huffed despite herself and felt a jab of embarrassment. She needed to keep calm, they wouldn’t tell her if she acted as a petulant child. “I already tried asking mother, she said something vague and entirely unhelpful,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She could see that Anthony was preparing to rebuff her again, so she focused her attention on Benedict and said, keeping her voice as calm as she could manage. “Don’t you see how unfair it is that I will be completely at his mercy, that I will have no frame of reference, not the slightest idea of what to expect?” she asked, appealing to him.
Benedict looked like he wanted to tell her, if not for her good, then for his own amusement. He turned to Anthony.
“Anthony, I do believe our sister makes a good point. Why should she be the only one in the dark?”
“Because that is the way it is done!” Anthony replied, a little harshly.
“Just because things are done a certain way doesn’t mean that is the right way to do them,” Benedict replied, an edge creeping into his own voice.
“If you wish to know, sister,” he started. Anthony tried to stop him with a shake of his head but it seemed to only amuse Benedict as he continued “your husband will put his prick inside you and if done correctly you will both gain a whole lot of enjoyment out of the act.” Daphne’s face was certainly flaming now because it felt very hot. Anthony looked outraged.
“Benedict!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Benedict replied, spreading his arms. “She wanted to know, and regardless of whether we tell her or not, she will know it in less than a week when Simon does it to her.”
Anthony swallowed hard, still looking angry. He turned back to Daphne.
“Well, now you know, so you will be prepared. And on that note..” He set aside his glass and made to get up.
“Wait!” Daphne exclaimed, an idea coming to her. “I still don’t really know...” she paused trying to think of the right way to ask. “I have never seen..” she knew what she was asking would be inappropriate but this was not enough. Simon putting his prick inside her, how did work, what did that look like?
“Could I see?” She asked, her heart hammering in her chest. To her surprise Benedict laughed in response, but before he could open his mouth to respond, Anthony replied.
“Daphne! It isn’t really appropriate for a sister to see her brother's cock” he said sternly, looking flushed. “And I cannot believe I have to say it.” An unpleasant feeling for embarrassment enveloped Daphne and she already felt like she was on fire. She wasn’t really equipped to have this conversation. But that was precisely why it was so important to be having it.
Benedict laughed again, “Come now, Tony, little Daphne is practically a married woman, and your prick seems keen to be shown.” Daphne wasn’t sure what he meant but she followed Benedict’s gaze to Anthony’s crotch and could see a bump.
Anthony put his hands in his lap trying to hide it and glared at Benedict, but the latter decided to ignore him.
“Plus, I am sure Simon, will have certain expectations from our dear sister and it would be best for her to be prepared.”
He set his glass aside and came round to Daphne, putting out his hand. A little confused, Daphne took it and got up off the couch.
Benedict sat in her place spreading his knees.
“Now, before we get any further, Daph, are you sure you want to do this? We can just stop now, chuck it up to a drunken night and never speak of it again.” Even though Benedict was clearly drunk, and his words were coming out ever so slightly slurred, it looked like he was trying to be serious, and Daphne took a moment to seriously consider it. What would be the harm of seeing what she would be dealing with and also what did he mean about expectations?
“Yes,” she said, “I want to see.” Even though her face felt on fire, her voice was steady and certain.
That seemed to be sufficient to satisfy the responsible part of Benedict’s brain and he smiled loosely again.
“Benedict, stop, we can’t do this” Anthony growled, but Daphne couldn’t help but notice that he was still holding his hands over his crotch trying to shield the bulge there.
“What should I do?” she asked, her voice quivering just a little.
(frozen) Re: Teach me part 2
From: (Anonymous) - Date: Feb. 15th, 2021 08:14 pm (UTC) - Expand(frozen) Re: Teach me part 2
From: (Anonymous) - Date: Feb. 15th, 2021 10:23 pm (UTC) - Expand(frozen) Re: Teach me part 2
From: (Anonymous) - Date: Feb. 16th, 2021 06:05 pm (UTC) - Expand(frozen) Benedict/Eloise (incest & underage)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:33 am (UTC)(frozen) Re: Benedict/Eloise (incest & underage)
Date: Mar. 4th, 2021 09:29 am (UTC)Curiosity gnawed at her.
Carefully, Eloise turned the door handle and peered through the crack she had created.
After all, twas curiosity killed the cat, not discovery.
She squinted hard as she stared at his face and, once she was certain his eyes were squeezed shut, pushed the door open wide enough to allow herself to slip through, and inched forward in a silent tiptoe.
His tight fist jerked up and down along the hard jut of his manhood, while his other fisted into the rumpled bed sheet under his arse. He kept muttering, God, God, God under his breath, the single syllable choked.
What a discovery.
Benedict’s focus was singular, his face intense. There was a parallel to be drawn between his expression as he worked at the sketching board and as he worked on his manhood.
He looked miserable and euphoric at once. The sight was thoroughly upsetting, Eloise’s heart hammered in her chest and her stomach swooped in response.
She watched Benedict continue his violent ministrations, her desire to question his bizarre behavior and her desire to avoid his chastisement towards her for her spying at war.
Finally, she could bite her tongue no longer.
“Does that hurt?” Benedict sprung up from the bed, male part standing up on it’s own.
“Eloise!” His manhood bobbed against his belly with his yell. It did look painful, and all red and pink with bulging veins. She closed the door behind herself with a click.
“Shh!” She leaned her head to one side as she stared downward. “Is it awfully sore? It looks like you caught it in the door.”
Eloise reached out for it with one hand and Benedict batted her away. He hurriedly half tucked himself back into his trousers.
“I did not catch my—IT in the door.” She supposed that was a relief, Eloise would have hated for Benedict to be seriously injured.
“Is it always that big, then?” Eloise observed the ever so slight puffing of his chest. Her eyes narrowed at that reaction. The strangeness of men never failed to confound her.
“You think—,” Benedict shook his head sharply. “Eloise, get out!”
“Stop yelling, unless you want one of the maids to run in here and catch us.” Benedict paled at that. Good, she thought. He could be so careless.
“What is that you were doing?”
“Eloise, it is a private thing,” Benedict hissed, mindful of his volume now. He was being patently ridiculous, she had already seen him, there was no harm in getting answers to her questions, or perhaps even a better view.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“Really?” Benedict groaned.
“Yes, really, Eloise.”
“Can I do it?”
“What?!” Eloise was near enough to him to note the momentary dilation of his pupils. She rolled her own eyes, thinking to herself that Benedict must think her daft. Of course she knew that men and women were different down there, even if she knew very little else.
He looked like the cat that caught the canary and found it to be laced with cyanide.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know we’ve got different...well, you know. But could I make myself feel like that?” Benedict’s eyes flew skyward. He swore under his breath.
“Yes. So go away and,” he grit his teeth, “do it,” Benedict bit out.
“I want to see how you do it first.”
“You’ve seen plenty!” His voice raised in both pitch and volume.
“I’ve hardly seen anything, just you shaking it like you were angry at it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Go. Away. Eloise.”
“Show. Me. Benedict,” Eloise demanded.
“No.”
“I’m your little sister. You’re meant to teach me things aren’t you?” Eloise jut her jaw just so, willing all her defiance into the lines of her face.
“Not this, Eloise!” He sat back on the edge of his bed.
“Why? Because it’s not what ‘society’ deems appropriate?” She held his eye, each of them staring the other down. The stalemate held for a long moment, and then Benedict’s shoulders sagged in what Eloise recognized as defeat.
She preened internally and sat down criss-cross on the floor in front of him, eye level with his male part.
“Eloise, you can’t sit there.”
“Why ever not Benedict?” He could be so irritating sometimes.
“You’re too close.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I would like to be able to see.” Up close like this, Eloise could better see the thick veins which ran up the sides of his shaft. It would be a shame to miss those most pertinent details. It had a much more handsome appeal from this angle.
“I might...hit you.”
“Hit me?” Her eyes went round. “You mean it gets even bigger?”
“No, no,” Benedict shook his head, “I don’t think so.” He had that pained look again. “When I...finish, a sort of fluid—release—comes out.”
“Oh.” She pictured a gush of water spraying from the end of his manhood. “A lot?”
“It’s enough.” Eloise wondered why he sounded so defensive. He made the display sound altogether distasteful, but was also prickly with pride regarding it.
“Enough for what?”
“Enough...to make a woman with child.”
“Oh.” Oh. “So, if it hits me, I’ll be pregnant?” His manhood twitched independently. Perhaps Benedict was right. That did sound rather horrific.
“No!” He flushed a deep pink. “It takes more than that.”
It seemed she would never get her answer to that particular question. Every bit of information she gleaned regarding the creation of children only doubled her questions. She resolved to needle the whole truth out of Benedict at some point, not then though, not when she had him on the ropes thus.
“Then I don’t care if ‘it’ hits me, Benedict. Stop stalling and get on with it. You won’t discourage me with these distractions.” He sighed and drew himself back out in full from his trousers. For the first time she saw that there were two rounded things at the base of him, pulled tight to the hard shaft. Eloise took a moment to take him in.
“Eloise, are you alright?” His voice was uncomfortably gentle.
“Yes!” Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears. Eloise cleared her throat. “Go on, then.” He made a smooth pass from the tip of it down to the base. Benedict was being much more gentle than he had before, but something told Eloise it was for her viewing pleasure and not in an effort to frustrate her. His hand traveled back up and he swiped over the wet tip with his thumb. “What do you call this?”
He sucked in a pained breath.
“Masturbation.”
“And what do you call it?” Benedict’s heavy lidded eyes fell on her. “Your ‘thing’.”
“My cock.” That sent a shiver through her, though she could not have explained why. Emboldened, bewitched, she asked,
“May I stroke your cock?” Benedict shuddered at her words. Suddenly, it was the only thing she wanted in the word. More than acclaim, more than freedom, more than her name embossed in gold on the cover of a thousand leather volumes. “Please? Just this once?”
Benedict nodded, and licked his lips, and said, “Yes.”
Eloise shivered at the permissive syllable.
She reached out, grateful her hand was not shaking, and encircled his cock in her eager grip.
Her mouth popped open in surprise.
It was soft. And hard, but more like velvet than the marble she had been expecting. She watched, almost in a dreamlike daze, as her hand slid from the base of Benedict’s cock up to the tip.
“Does it feel good?” She squirmed up onto her knees, leaning closer to Benedict’s cock, and pressed her thighs firmly together. She felt rather good herself.
Her core was nothing but a river, her shift fully saturated. Distantly, she wondered whether her wet had already soaked right through and destroyed the silk of her gown.
“So good.” His panting grew in volume and something about the cadence of it made her want to leap forward and kiss him, maybe full on his lips or on the leaking head of his cock.
Eloise rocked her hips forwards and back and forwards and back, inching up to something.
She cupped the rounded bits at his base and it made Benedict thrust up into her hand and throw his head back in what she could only assume was pleasure.
“What are these?”
“My bollocks. Eloise, you have to...I’m going to—,” he kept trailing off and Eloise’s mind raced trying to fill in his blanks.
“What do you want?” Whatever he said, she would do it. Eloise hoped he wanted her to kiss him.
“I’m going to co—finish.” Oh, her stomach sank. She wasn’t ready for it to be over already. “You have to...I don’t want to…”
Eloise remembered his worry about hitting her.
Benedict had said it was “enough”, but just how much that would be Eloise could not begin to guess.
“I don’t care about the release. I want to see it.” Eloise bit her lip. She whispered, “I want to feel it.”
She could say—she’d come up with some excuse. It would be far from the first time she ruined a gown through some unladylike pursuit.
“God, Eloise.” He thrust into her fist again and clenched his bedsheets with both hands.
Eloise got as close as she could, still stroking his cock, unknown eagerness overtaking her. Benedict’s breath was labored to the point of sounding inhuman, almost animal.
“El,” he said and seized and released. The first spurt hit her cheek and the second, both significant bursts. The next, a little less intense, fell down onto her hand and Benedict’s cock.
It looked nothing like the spray of water she had pictured.
“What do you call this?”
“Seed,” he huffed.
“Seed,” Eloise repeated, running her fingers through the streaks on her cheek. She stared down at her seed covered digits, the stuff looked like sticky cake glaze and felt a little like it too.
Eloise promptly popped one into her mouth and licked away the fluid. Seed decidedly did not taste like sugar glaze, although it was not altogether horrid.
“Eloise,” she’d thought he might scold her, might chide her for such a strange act, but he sounded almost...almost, reverent. His recitation of her name, in that tone, made the hair on the back of her neck prick up.
She liked that feeling very much.
She brought another finger to her lips and sucked it clean, letting the sticky liquid pool in the cup of her tongue.
Eloise cleaned off the rest of her fingers, Benedict watching her every movement through his dark, heavily-lidded eyes.
For the first time in either of their lives, it seemed they were both speechless.
“Thank you,” she finally managed, voice small. Something in her voice seemed to bring him back to himself. Eloise wondered whether that was a good thing or bad.
“Eloise,” he cradled her head in the same hand he’d worked his cock with. “Did…,” he looked vexed and Eloise hoped it wasn’t with her, “did you have a good feeling?”
Her brow furrowed and she rocked forward again, absently.
“Yes?” Touching Benedict had felt good, and so had the feeling of her thighs pressing together, but she wasn’t certain that was all he meant.
“Did you peak?”
“I don’t know. I’m wet.” She was as wet as Benedict at his peak, but she hadn’t experienced any sudden crest like him.
He tucked his curled finger under her chin and looked her straight in the face.
“Come here, El.” Needing no further invitation, she scrambled into his lap. her heart still thrumming in her ears. Her thighs settled around his and she started to settle down on his cock when he cringed and caught her hips, saying, “I can’t.”
She froze, eyes going wide. Every quiet fear she had in her heart threatened to bubble up.
“I’m still too sensitive,” he said sheepishly, holding her up away from his cock. She nodded, head still spinning, too tongue-tied to tell him it was alright, that he didn’t need to. Too distracted with relief that he wasn’t angry with her, or disgusted, to notice him bringing his hand to her core. She whined at the sudden stimulation. Benedict groaned. “Fuck. El, you’re…you’re soaked.”
He made that sound like a very good thing.
He buried his face in her neck and rubbed her core. Eloise started to understand his question, as she felt her pleasure building, like bricks, one on top of the other. Benedict kissed her shoulder as she rocked against his hand.
“Benedict, may I kiss you?” He pulled back, his eyes soft.
“Of course, El.” His hand traveled from her hip, up her side to settle under chin. Benedict drew her face to his with his thumb and forefinger. Their lips met, hers slightly chapped, his smooth and warm and tasting of berries.
Her blood rushed in her ears at his perfect kiss.
Benedict’s tongue touched the rim of her top lip as his fingers slid over her center. She thrust her hips into his touch, once, twice and gasped.
She peaked, she was absolutely certain. Every nerve in her body sparked to life and her core flooded with wet.
Benedict kissed Eloise through her peak, one hand still circling her and his other cradling her head.
“Was that satisfactory, Miss Eloise?”
“Yes,” she said, pecking his lips happily. “But…”
“But?”
“I still have more questions.” Benedict laughed and pulled her into his chest.
“And you shall have your answers.”
(frozen) Daphne/Simon
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:34 am (UTC)(frozen) Anthony/Daphne and/or Anthony/Eloise (incest & possible dubcon/noncon)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:37 am (UTC)(Bonus points if it ends with a blowjob or with some other 'climactic' end.)
(frozen) Art fill: Anthony/Daphne (incest)
Date: Mar. 1st, 2021 12:56 am (UTC)https://roissy.neocities.org/images/anthonydaph02.jpg
I went crazy with the bridgerton color palette. Sorry for no climatic end! Those are difficult for image fills! I hope it's fine anyway!
(frozen) Re: Art fill: Anthony/Daphne (incest)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: Mar. 6th, 2021 10:17 am (UTC) - Expand(frozen) Daphne/Simon (rape - roleplay)
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:39 am (UTC)+ Daphne playing very innocent
+ Fear of getting caught
+ Humiliation kink
+ Actually almost getting caught in their play
(frozen) Daphne/Simon
Date: Feb. 14th, 2021 06:42 am (UTC)(frozen) Re: Daphne/Simon
Date: Feb. 16th, 2021 01:39 am (UTC)It started after Daphne gave birth to their first child; a screaming, raging little ball of fire with delightfully fat cheeks, his mother's bright wise eyes and smooth brown skin a shade paler than his own complexion. Alexander was everything he never knew he needed, never allowed himself to want for retrospectively speaking completely childish and utterly trivial reasons, borne out of nothing more than spite and the fear he'd end up like his own father, but the thought of the child being part him and part his wife drove him exceptionally crazy.
The thought hadn't occured to him at first, through all the long nights of crying and the spit-covered clothing, the days of feeling like a shell of a person roaming the earth solely to decipher the difference between a sob and a wail, between hunger and a change of undergarments. Simon and Daphne had slowly found that sometimes Alexander just liked being fussy for the attention, and he already often lovingly joked he was much like his mother in that aspect.
Simon refused to be like his own father, refused to have his children raised by strangers, no matter how much time and energy it cost him. The second he held Alexander in his arms for the first time and realized it might as well be the whole damned world, he decided he was going to do -- be better than that.
The first few months he was too tired to think, too tired to even dream at night. Sleep overcame him soon after his body lowered itself to the bed, and anything but an affectionate caress of his wife's cheek or a goodnight peck on the forehead was out of the question.
It occured to him later though. Violently so.
The dreams came first. Of Daphne, cradling her swollen belly with a delicate hand, her cheeks round and a shade darker than the rose-petal pink he'd grown accustomed to before. Of his spent, dripping from in between the apex of his wife's thighs, might as well his whole damned world, in the soft late night candle light covering their master bedroom in hues of warm orange. Of their estate filled with the idyllic, youthful giggles of children with his wife's eyes and charming little curls falling across their foreheads and a stubborness deep in their bones as bothersome as it is endearing.
"You are the most excellent father, Simon," Daphne tells him one night, softly, her hand in between his shoulder blades as she peers down at their child, safely tucked away in his crib and for once peacefully still, chin propped on top of his shoulder. "I would know, because I was fortunate enough to have one."
Simon swallows tightly, ignoring the warmth blooming in his chest at his wife's kind words. He knows these are things she must say, being the good dutiful wife she is, but there is a sincerity to them that makes him burn for her in an entirely new way. With one last longing look at his son, he tugs the embroided blanket up Alexander's chest just a little more, just to be sure before nodding at the nursemaid waiting by the door, allowing her to dim the candle.
His hand interwines with Daphne's as she leads them back to their sleeping quarters. After producing an heir they were expected to go back to seperate bedrooms, as is custom with most marriages, but they are not most people and Simon cannot bear the thought of being away from his best friend, in whatever capacity.
Now that him and Daphne had decided to name their children alphabetically, Simon could not even believe himself when he realized how furiously fast and all-consumingly he wanted to get from A to Z. Quicker than he ought to be possible, he's grown obsessed with the idea, grown the dearest kind of attachements to it even, of making a home out of this house and filling it with the byproducts of their love, plural.
Simon is perched on the edge of the bed, watching his wife as she kindly dismisses the helper by the door, having long undressed out of her pretty dress and into her sleeping garments. It's a flimsy little white thing; covering less off her creamy skin than it should, easily spiking his desire for her.
"Daphne," he croaks out before he can think better of it, his throat dry. "Come here."
She comes to stand in between his knees, his hands coming up on the back of her thighs as his eyes slowly trail up her body. Over the still soft curve of her belly, the more than generous swell of her milk-swollen breasts, her long strawberry-blonde locks falling down her shoulders in waves, the perfect pink puzzled pout on her mouth, the little teasing beauty mark just above her upperlip, before finally meeting the deep ocean blue of her eyes. The material of her sleeping garment bunches up more and more the higher his fingers move, until his hot palms rest flatly just below her buttocks.
There is the slight almost imperceptible shift of his wife's feet as her own hands come up to fold around the hard muscles of his broad shoulders, telling him that even through the haze of her confusion, her body still reacts to him and his touch. "What is it, my love?" She would probably sound confident to anyone else, his dearest wife, but he is more than aware of the slight shake in her voice.
Simon noses at the material of her thin night gown, the ghost of touch below her breast before he presses a featherlight kiss to middle of her waist. It's not hard to long for her to grow fat there with his baby, not when it almost feels like second-nature now, a craving uncovered and unwilling to hide in secret any longer. He rests his chin there, looking up at his wife as casual as possible. From this position he can see the fast flutter of her pulse in her neck, and smell the enticing scent of the arousal surely pooling between her thighs in a way he can almost taste it on his tongue. "I want to see you with child."
One of her eyebrows quirks up in that endearing way that has him bite back a smile. She picks up a hand off his shoulder, gingerly running the tip of her forefinger down his nose. There is a cavalier tone to her voice, laced with amusement. "Is that so?"
For now, he can let her have the upperhand. "I cannot stop thinking about it, Daphne. It consumes me. I lay awake at night deliberating it, I can hardly function during the day dreaming about it. It is going to run our family business to the ground."
"Hmm," she humms thoughtfully, the corners of her mouth turned up as she regards him with the utmost consideration. "And what seems to be the only cure to these maddening compulsions according to you, dear?"
A small groan of protest escapes his lips. "Do I have to say it?"
She rolls her hips over him, torturously, knowing exactly what she is doing as it is doing the same to her, a hitch in the back of her throat as the bulk of him hits her just right. "Yes, very much so."
"I want -- I need to get you pregnant again. I need to be inside of ou. Fill you up in every way possible," Simon confesses, watching her face carefully, from the way her pupils fatten and her full lips part slightly. He can't help the nervous shake of his voice when he speaks next, "Do you reckon you'd be ready?"
It's been mostly fleeting hands and eager mouths since Alexander's birth, quick moments of pleasure here and there whenever they could manage, their family doctor telling them to heed the risks of getting pregnant again so soon after their first child. Simon could never bear losing her, especially not at his own hand, so they have been careful, but it's been months by now, and his dreams of things he desperately longs for are quickly starting to feel like night terrors of all the things he doesn't have.
"I do reckon I'd find myself ready," she says, putting him at ease as the sharp edge of her thumbnail scratches along the side of his throat from where her hand is still on his shoulder, now closer to the junction of his neck. His cock throbs longingly, unbearably. "How badly do you want --" Her eyebrows raise as she catches herself, an infuriatingly smug look in her eye, "--need it?"
His hands rub up and down at the back of her thighs. "More than you could ever know."
Her steely gaze remains on his, and he finds himself pleading, quickly folding to the game she is playing because of the fear he might come in his pants from being so worked up over the mere thought of getting her pregnant with his child again. "Please, sweetheart," he rasps, softly. "I know you want it too."
Daphne has always wanted to be a mother, and Simon is more than happy to know he has made her one, but he would also be more than happy to make her one again, and again, and being her best friend, he knows it is something she deeply desires as well.
"It is quite funny, isn't it?" Daphne teases, pulling up the night gown in between her legs to gather herself some more lenience from the fabric before lowering one knee onto the bed just beside his thigh. He can already feel the heat of her everywhere, spreading through him like wildfire. "Now it is you who is begging, Duke."
He pinches one of her buttocks, earning himself a yelp that quickly turns into a joyous giggle and disappears just as promptly once her other knee comes up on the bed, her centre resting atop of his rapidly hardened groin. She lets out a little moan that drives him absolutely crazy, his fingers dipping in between their bodies to slip into her undergarments, finding her warm and willing.
"You're drenched already," he notes, pride dripping from his voice. He knows her too well.
"I am," she confesses, a little breathlessly as his free hand expertly unravels the string holding the top of her night gown together, revealing the swell of her chest to the crisp night air. Her nipples peak immediately, small goosebumps forming all over her smooth flesh. "Watching you with him... I thought you were perfect before, personally plucked from the Heavens by God himself and put down on earth to bless me beyond my wildest imagination, but instead it has made me realize all the ways I can still be so very wrong."
"You, being wrong?" He muses, smirking up at her with a dark gleam in his eye as he pushes one finger inside of her. She gasps, fingernails digging into the back of his shoulders meanly. "I didn't think that ought to be possible."
"I have trained you well," Daphne teases, her voice squeaking on the last word as he takes the sensitive peak of her breast into his mouth. She arches into him, creating a delicious movement over where he's painfully hard. "Oh, Simon. Please."
(frozen) Re: Daphne/Simon
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