Benedict: And what grand scheme is brewing behind those thoughtful eyes today?
Lilttle Y/N: I require an escort.
Benedict: An escort? Are we going to the modiste for new ribbons?
Little Y/N: No, I must go to the kitchens.
Benedict: The kitchens? You need only ring a bell and a footman will bring you whatever you desire. Why the expedition?
Little Y/N: The official channels are compromised. Cook is guarding the new batch of lemon tarts for Anthony's meeting this afternoon. I must undertake a reconnaissance mission to liberate one before they are all spoken for. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.
Benedict: A tart liberation, you say?
Little Y/N: Precisely.
Benedict: Very well. Lead on, General Y/N. Your second-in-command is at your service.
summary: the terrifying reality that you’re chasing the ghost of your father || warnings: angst, comfort, grief, daddy issues (in a way?) || word count: 1045 || masterlist
You’d heard the Mamas of the Ton discussing your family more times than you can count. But there were only a handful of times you’d been directly mentioned in those discussions.
The overwhelming majority of those conversations were comparing you to others, to your mother, your siblings and your father. It was when they talked about your father that stabbed a hole in your heart every time.
“She’s so obviously Edmund’s daughter; the spitting image.”
They whisper it when you attend your first ball out in society, after all your siblings had gone on to marry for love. A part of you questions if they whispered about your father then too but the prominence of the gossip makes you stumble. You were being compared to a man you had never known, chasing a ghost of the past that everyone except from you seemed to see.
You’d spent most of the next day hidden in Anthony’s study, sitting on the floor and staring up at your father’s portrait. You picked out every similarity you had, every difference sticking out like a sore thumb. How could you relax before you knew everything about him? Until you had memorised every corner of his face?
Your eldest brother had joined you in the early evening, sitting at his desk and watching you watch the portrait. His chest heaved with the weight of grief that would never shift. You spoke nothing and Anthony left you to your thoughts until the house quietened and the fire dimmed.
He stood from his desk and lowered himself to the floor beside you.
“People tell me I look like him. They say it’s an uncanny resemblance. Did they say that about you?” You spoke softly, turning to face him, finally breaking the contact between you and your father.
Anthony met your gaze. “They said it but not as much as they say it to you.” He paused, collecting his words. “It is true. You’re the most like him out of all of us.”
“A bit hypocritical, no?” It was strange that that was the only thought floating through your head. The person most like him never got to meet him.
“He would like you.” Anthony ignored the comment. “You’d be his little shadow, made of all the best parts of him.”
“I feel like I should be doing something… for him.”
Anthony smiled. “You are. You’re being you.”
He laced his hand with yours as you turned your gaze back to the portrait. The night waned on and the pair of you sat in silence, your head on his shoulder until sleep threatened to claim you and he sent you off to bed.
Anthony shared your concerns with Violet the next morning, half asking for advice and half hoping she would talk to you in a way Anthony couldn’t.
She joined you in the living room, sitting beside you on the chaise. “Anthony told me about yesterday.” She said gently, not wanting to push you.
You nod silently. “Mama-“
“You remind me of Edmund every day.” Violet whispered to you. “There’s so much of him in you that I don’t even think you’re aware of.”
You turn to her, brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“The way your eyebrows furrow when you’re thinking about something, like you are now. You get the same twinkle in your eyes that he did, the same smile, the way you pout when you’re trying not to laugh. And your laugh-”
You’re entranced with every word your mama shares about your father. And the more you listen, you come to the startling realisation that you’ll never be able to properly meet the man you share so much with. You wonder how alike you truly are, and how much more alike you would be if he had lived on to raise you.
“I am sorry.”
“What?”
Violet explained herself. “You’ll never truly know him, beyond what we can tell you. There is no way to compare our memory to who Edmund truly was. I am so sorry that was taken from you.”
You bite back tears, rubbing circles in the inside of your wrist to calm yourself. “It’s alright.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“But it has to be.” You shot back. “I would rather have your memories of Father than nothing at all and although nothing can replace him, you and Anthony have raised me to make him proud. And he would be- proud. He’d be proud of you.”
Now Violet was the one biting away the tears, smiling with a watery chuckle as she pulled you closer. She cradled you in her arms, tucking you under her chin. “He would.” She agreed. “He would be proud of everything.”
When your tears had dried and Violet isn’t clinging to you like you’ll disappear, she stands and motions for you to follow her. She leads you to a spare study you thought was empty or used by one of the valets. Slowly, she pushes the door open with a creak and lights a candle to light the room.
Everything is covered in white cloths or binded into piles to stop the dust from getting on them. Mama starts to look for something, lifting piles and peeking into their contents until she seemingly finds what she wants.
“Everything in here belonged to your father.”
The truth comes like a punch, the knowledge that you are standing surrounded by all of his things.
“And these-“ She holds out a bundle of notebooks, unwrapped from their binding. “-are your father’s journals.”
“For me?” The fact that she trusts you with them speaks volumes.
“You will never get the chance to know your father. I’m hoping that through his journals, you can get even a glimpse of him. Anything in this room is yours as much as it was his.”
The tears spring up again before you can stop them and you let them run down your face freely. “Mama-“
“I know.” She gently rubs your shoulder as she brushes past you to leave. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know it’s all here for when you’re ready.”
Just as she reaches the doorway, you turn and choke out a small, “Thank you,” your father’s journals clutched to your chest like a lifeline.
Summary: Kate is pregnant and (y/n) loves talking to the baby
Warnings: none
࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆
Kate woke to the sound of (y/n) talking. But when she opened her eyes, (y/n) wasn’t talking to a maid, or a Bridgerton sibling who had wandered into the room. (Y/n) was talking to Kate’s stomach, or rather, the baby inside of her stomach.
“You will come to learn that your mother is quite stubborn.” Kate gently shoved (y/n)’s head. The man split into a small grin. “But you will also come to learn that that is one of her more agreeable qualities. And one of the many reasons I love her.”
Kate smiled softly and ran a gentle hand through (y/n)’s hair. The man sighed and melted further into his wife.
“Although I do hope that you do not inherit her stubbornness. I have my hands full enough with your mother.”
“Good moment gone,” Kate huffed playfully. (Y/n) smiled and looked up to his wife.
“I am simply letting him know. But, if he did end up with your stubbornness, I wouldn’t truly hate it.”
“He?”
“Yes. Our child is definitely a boy.”
“How can you be so certain?” Kate asked.
“I can just feel it,” (y/n) told Kate as he rested his head back onto her stomach.
“Oh, you can feel it, can you?” Kate questioned. “No, I can feel it. And she is certainly a girl. I’d put money on it.”
“We will not be putting money down on the sex of our child,” (y/n) hummed.
“Because you know you are wrong,” Kate hummed.
“Five pounds,” (y/n) murmured.
“Deal.” Kate reached her hand down and (y/n) gave it a firm shake and a kiss on the palm.
“Deal,” (y/n) repeated. “Although a poor deal, as you will lose.”
“I have not lost against you yet, my love, and I do not intend to now.”
“Well, we shall see in a few months, how your winning streak against me will change.”
“We certainly will,” Kate said
࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆
Authors Note:
Been rewatching Bridgerton and I forgot how much I love it
A/N: Okay, here it is! My first Bridgerton fic. I hope you enjoy it. The divider I used in this was made by @firefly-graphics
Summary: Y/n Bridgerton feels it is her duty to get her eldest brother to have fun; and she takes her job very seriously.
Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Violet Bridergton, Lady Danbury, Bridgerton!Reader
Warnings: uhhh... none I can think of... maybe time period inaccuracy because there is a chance of that
Word Count: 1,292
*gif is not mine*
Y/n is the youngest child of Edmund and Violet Bridgerton, twins with Hyacinth; and her eldest brother’s worst nightmare.
Don’t get him wrong, Anthony loves his baby sister; but she holds the trophy for being able to rile her brother up the most. She can get under his skin like no one else.
Y/n believes her eldest brother is always stressed out, reading ledgers and working to provide for their family; but he never takes the time to have fun.
So Y/n made it her sole job to force her brother to have fun as much as she can.
Most of the time, she just does harmless tricks or innocently questions his actions; but sometimes she takes it too far and Benedict has to intervene between the two siblings.
Y/n Bridgerton loves spending time with her family, but she would rather be in her room alone than promenading around, watching her older siblings looking for their future partners.
Anthony is walking stiffly next to her as he watches Eloise ignore every man who attempts to talk to her, making sure Benedict sticks to her side.
“Why are you upset now, brother?”
Anthony glances down at his baby sister, hating how well she can read him. “I am not upset, Y/n.”
“Whatever you say, brother.” Y/n says with a roll of her eyes.
Anthony frowns down at her, not a fan of the attitude but knowing she is right and he shouldn’t take his annoyance at Eloise out on the young girl; so he restrains from scolding her.
That is, until Y/n starts mocking him by squaring her shoulders and marching besides him.
He lays a hand on her shoulder, stopping them both. “If you are going to mock me, you can walk with Mother and Lady Danbury.”
Y/n gapes at her brother, anger rising in her chest. “But Lady Danbury scares me!”
“Now, young lady.”
Y/n stares up at her brother, her brain trying to think of a way to convince him to take his words back, but nothing comes to mind. So with a loud huff, letting Anthony know she is upset with him, Y/n turns on her heel and starts walking to where their mother is talking with Lady Danbury.
Anthony bites back the smile threatening to show as his sister unintentionally imitates his angry walk.
There may be almost two decades in between them, but Y/n reminds Anthony of his younger self, how he was before their father died.
Y/n drags behind the two older women, reminding herself to not roll her eyes at the topic since it seems Lady Danbury has eyes in the back of her head.
She glances in between the two women, her eyes narrowing at seeing her brother laughing with some woman who she doesn’t even remember her name.
Benedict looks over his shoulder, making sure his youngest sister hasn’t run off. When Y/n is stuck with the females of the family, she takes advantage of their neglectful nature to watch the child.
Not that Benedict believes his mother is neglectful, far from it actually, but the viscountess sometimes forgets just how mischievous her youngest is.
Speaking of mischief, Benedict curses under his breath when he sees his sister’s mischievous smirk. Only trouble follows after that look. Before Benedict can make it to his sister, Y/n bumps into her eldest brother as they walk past him, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the pond.
“Y/n Bridgerton.” Benedict admonishes as he rests his hands on her shoulders.
“What?” Y/n looks up at him, smirk still in place. “He needed to cool off.” Her smirk turns into a victory smile when Benedict chuckles.
Benedict tries to stifle his laughter when his mother and Lady Danbury arrive at his side, but he knows he’s doing a terrible job at it.
“Y/n!” Violet exclaims.
“What, it was an accident.” The young girl exclaims.
Violet huffs, not believing her daughter for a moment but when she glances at her eldest who is struggling on getting out of the water, she can’t help when a small giggle escapes between her lips. She glances at her friend, relieved to see a smile on her face.
Benedict chuckles again when he sees that his mother is not angry with his sister, but smooths his features when he glances at the eldest sibling; who is just about out of the water.
“Run, run.” Benedict whispers to his little sister, gently shoving her to get her moving.
“What? Why?” Y/n questions. She was too busy gawking at her mother and Lady Danbury as both women seem amused at her antics to see her angry brother pull himself out of the water, his murderous glare aimed at her.
“Y/n, run!” Benedict pushes her this time before stepping in front of his brother who attempts to grab the running eleven year old.
“Y/n Bridgerton!” Anthony shouts, glaring at the people who are laughing and cheering on his sister who is getting away.
Benedict immediately puts his hands up, hoping to avoid his brother’s wrath when that murderous glare is now on him. “Now, brother. It was a harmless trick and-”
“Harmless?! I am soaking wet!”
Benedict bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing, but his brother sees right through him if that glare means anything.
Y/n was able to avoid her brother for the rest of the morning as she decided to ride with her friend’s family who was kind enough to drop her back off at home. Her mother will not be pleased that she rode in the carriage of another family but she needed to give her brother time to cool off before she’s within arm’s reach of him.
She slowly steps into the house, listening for any signs of her eldest sibling. She sighs in relief when all she hears are the maids getting supper ready.
She makes her way up the stairs and to her room where she immediately notices the metal bathtub in the middle of her room.
She shrieks when strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into the air.
“I think it’s time for a bath, sister.”
Y/n struggles in her brother’s arms. “Anthony, put me down!”
“Don’t worry, sister, I will.”
At her brother’s words, Y/n realizes just how much closer they are to the bathtub. “Anthony, don’t you dare! Ahh!”
Anthony laughs at his sister’s screams, folding his arms over his chest as he bends forward from laughing so hard.
Y/n wraps her arms around her body, pouting. “It’s cold.” She whines.
Anthony grows serious at his sister’s words, reminding him as to why the water is cold. “Ah yes, that’s what happens when you ride with another family and are hours late.” He leans down, his eyes stern. “Bridgertons ride together no matter what the situation is at the moment. Understand?”
Knowing her brother is right, Y/n nods her head. “Yes, brother.”
For a moment, the viscount just smiles down at his baby sister, his love for her showing in his eyes. He places a hand on her cheek. “Thank you, sister. I needed some laughter today.”
Y/n smiles up at him, glad he’s not upset her. “It was funny, wasn’t it?”
Anthony rolls his eyes as he helps her out of the bathtub. “It is now, yes.” He gently leads her away from the bathtub. “Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes and I will have a maid add some hot water for your bath.”
summary: the wedding night/honeymoon we’ve been awaiting all season.
word count: 3.2k
warnings: nsfw (18+) yall. heavily so. bad writing (?)
a/n: i am combining this request with another one of their wedding night from @oopsiedoopsie23 ;)))))) this has been ridiculously self-indulgent
When you were growing up, you and Benedict used to sneak out of their country house to play with the basset hounds that Papa used to take out hunting hares. You were forbaded by Mama to stay far away from such gory activities. So you played with the dogs instead. Benedict came with you mostly because he was curious and Anthony refused to wake up early for such childish things. One morning, though, the both of you ran into a rather strange situation. One of the hounds were trying to jump on the other. You and Benedict decided that they were probably fighting and thought nothing of it for a long time.
Until recently, Mama pulled you into your room and discussed with you about your wedding night. She said that she had just had it with Daphne. So you thought it would go much better than how it was supposed to go with your sister. But as you would find out much later in a similar discussion with Daphne over tea, the both of you got the same speech with all the metaphors and the allusions?
Only thing was, you knew a dash more than Daphne at the mention of the basset hounds. You figured that the thing you and Benedict saw must have been the reason for puppies. And that terrified you. It honestly did not look enjoyable in the least. This certainly prompted you to be somewhat distracted on the carriage to your wedding night.
You stared out the window, ignoring his gaze lest Friedrich might figure out that something was bothering you. He was talking about a trip or something along that line. You nodded, humming to prove you were still listening.
But you couldn’t fool him for long. When you felt his touch on your hand and it made you jump out of your skin, sweating like a sinner in church. It startled him too. He sat straighter, leaning over from his seat opposite you. “My dear, I did not frighten you, did I?”
You smiled, shaking your head and glancing down at your feet. “No, no, I was just distracted. It seems like such a long way.”
He placed a finger under your chin, gently lifting your face up so that your eyes meet. “Oh, we are not going to Prussia right now. We have a stop at the Summer Palace in Kent. There will be refreshments and a tour awaiting you. The grounds there are quite magnificent.”
You nodded and let out an unintentional yawn. Unintentional because you knew at the sign of tiredness, he would turn into a full-blown mother goose and dote over you endlessly. And he did. He came to sit next to you and extended his arms, allowing you to scoot just into his hold. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling yourself doze off slowly to the rocking of the carriage and the soothing circles he was rubbing on your arm.
…
When you woke up from the sleepless dream, you found yourself in a dark room, on a four-poster bed with the sheer curtains drawn slightly, giving you an opaque impression of the room.
From what you could see, it was already dark outside. The candle lights were the only light source, illuminating the corners of the room in a wash of gold, highlighting the details of the wallpapers. Squinting, you prompted yourself up, seeing that you were still dressed in the gown you had worn this morning.
You sighed. It was going horribly. Whatever should he think of his bride, asleep all the way up until their wedding night. Maybe if you pretended you was asleep...oh but then that wouldn’t matter. You wanted children so it would only be running away from something that would inevitably happen. Better face it sooner than later.
Maybe you should take a bath while Friedrich was not here.
It was a good idea. You nodded to yourself and crawled out of the king-sized bed, making your way towards the dresser quickly.
There were nightgowns already arranged in there for you, the new ones that Mama insisted on buying at the Modiste. You chose the first one you saw, the shift dress that came just over your knee and headed for the bath.
At the same time, Friedrich had just finished planning out the perfect dinner for whenever you-his princess woke up. Now, he walked back upstairs to your room to see if you did. Cracking the door open, he popped his head in, as quiet as he could be in case he might wake you.
The bed was empty.
Friedrich opened the door a little wider, calling your name softly. There was absolute silence, his heart almost stopped. “Y/N?” he called, this time louder as he began to scan the entire place for traces of you, completely missing the drawer that you left slightly ajar.
His instincts led him to the bathroom, since the windows were not open so no one must have got in through them. He then heard you sighing loudly from behind the door and he stopped immdiately, leaning against the wood.
“Are you alright in there?” He asked.
“I am! I was just going to take a bath.”
He sighed in relief and smiled. “Should I call up some staff to aid you, darling?”
“No, I’m quite alright...”
As soon as you said that, you regretted it.
Even though you managed to get your dress and your necklace off, the corset was still there and it wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. Especially with how sore your arms were from having to reaching behind your back and digging for the strings.
You sighed again and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your back were pretty scratched up from your poor attempt at undressing yourself. You turned away, assessing your reflection. Your hair was finally down from the bun it had previously been in all morning, your rouge had mostly disappeared. You looked like a real mess. But you didn’t have much choice, did you? There was no stopping the inevitable. “Are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m still here.”
You sucked in a breath, trying not to let him her the shake in your voice. “Would you mind coming in to help me?”
“Oh, of course not.”
The door slowly clicked open to reveal Friedrich who was only in his waistcoat and chemise. It was the most casual you had ever seen him dress. And it made you feel a little better, standing before him in such little clothing. The sight of him tended to have that effect on you.
He closed the door behind him, eyes trained on you carefully. You had your hand reaching behind your back for the corset. He took a couple of steps forward, just so he was behind you, his hands hovering over yours.
And then he saw the red scratches. “Y/N, what happened?”
“What?” You asked, turning to face him. He eyed your back and you let out a nervous laugh. “That. Yes. I tried to take it off myself.”
“May I?” He asked, eyes flickering to yours in the mirror to receive a timid nod. You retrieved your hands, holding it to your chest, watching your reflections.
“Does this hurt you?” he asked again. “It looks very painful.”
“I am used to it.” You smiled at the creases that appeared between his brows and on the ridge of nose. He was concerned, you could tell.
He gently took ahold of the ribbons and unlaced you slowly, sending shivers up your spines with each loop undid. You felt your breath hitch inside your throat once the ribbons were off.
He could sense your nerves and like the perfect gentleman, he looked away to give you your privacy. “I-I can leave if you’d like. We don’t have to do anything tonight-“
You shook your head, spinning around and whispered, “No. I-I want you to stay.” Your corset was falling off of you, the only thing holding it up was your arms and you dropped those as well, leaving yourself in only a flimsy dress.
He could simply blink, his eyes following your corset as it fell to the floors before hurrying back up to meet your eyes. You turned around again, leaning both arms against the counter, bracing yourself.
“What are you doing, my love?”
You looked up, a startled look in your eyes, afraid you had done something wrong. “Are we not about to, you know,-“
Friedrich smiled his kind smile. “Even if we were, you wouldn’t need to do that. Unless you wanted to.”
He was completely lost on you now. You blinked, looking at him in the mirror. It was then that he realized you had no clue how this was supposed to go.
“Y/N, what do you think I was going to do?”
“Well, I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to cover yourself up with your arms. Your cheeks reddened as you looked away from him. “Mama did a terrible job at telling me. She kept talking about the basset hounds we used to have. And I thought I saw them...mating. Maybe I was wrong. I-“
He laughed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was laughing! “No, I think you were correct to assume that. But it’s an entirely different tale to what humans do.”
“It is?”
He nodded.
“So what do we do?”
“I would not have you in the bathroom. That’s a first.”
“Oh. Okay. Should we go in there then?” you gestured to bedroom.
He still thought you were joking about it. But you were actually expecting a play-by-play from him. And he was realizing that now.
Friedrich took a step closer towards you, taking the hand you were holding up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand before pulling you into him until your noses touched, nudging them together.
“Mein Schatz, the whole purpose of this evening is for you to feel good. And I am here to do that. Do you want me to tell you all about it first so that you are in control?”
“I-I want you to show me.”
“Anything for you, your Highness.”
Swiftly and softly, he scooped you into his arms and ran to the bed, melting away your nerves with the his silly giggles.
Then, he placed you on the side of the bed where he leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. With lips parted, he trailed down towards the base of your neck. Your head naturally lulled back, offering even more skin to him. Your hands found his tie, undoing it as he continued to pleasure your neck and shoulders.
That did not slip his attention. He pulled away with a pretty smirk. His tie was undone, by you, hanging loose around his neck. You had your hand on his solid chest, feeling the beat of his heart through the fabric of his waistcoat, which he unbuttoned. With the tie, it slid off his shoulders and landed on the floors.
He was a vision in only a chemise and breeches. You were shamelessly admiring his physique. And he was shamelessly admiring you.
Your legs draped over the side of the bed, your hands supporting your upper body against the mattress. Your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath you heaved.
He made the next move, suddenly reminded of your previous request. He placed a hand on your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Tell me if you wish for me to stop. Anytime, yes?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, brushing back a strand of your hair. “Good girl. Would you like to keep your dress on? It should be more comfortable.”
You shook your head, surprising him. “No,” you said quietly. “It can go.”
You kept your eyes on his as you lifted your dress up. The cold gush of air sent a round of shivers up your body and so did the gaze he was giving you.
His eyes fanned over entire body, stopping at your feet and flickered back up again. He took both of your hands in his. “You are magnificent. Did you know that? Simply marvelous. Now, as I promised, I’ll make you feel good. But you must relax for me.”
You nodded, telling yourself to relax as he connected his lips to the skin of your neck again. But instead of moving to your shoulders like before, he traveled to your breasts. And oh, it was divine. You closed your eyes, gasping as his tongue found your taunt nipple, his fingers brushing the other one. You could barely keep yourself up straight before he began to move again, this time dragging a trail of kisses across your stomach.
His hands on either sides if your knees as he hovered over you. “Tell me if it hurts, my love.”
You nodded, gulping as you anticipated his next move.
“I will need more than that.”
“Yes, I will.”
He smiled. Very impatient.
Friedrich parted your legs with one hand, letting the other moved up your back. You didn’t know what it was exactly for until the next moment. He dipped a finger between your folds. Your hands went to grasp the sheets beside you as your head fell back. Thankfully his hand was there to catch you from falling backwards.
“You are very wet, my love,” he said. “Now would you like to lie down?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, finding yourself sucking in a breath. “Is that a bad thing?”
He pressed a kiss to your lips. “No. It’s a good thing. You’ll see.” He began to move, coaxing noises from you that you didn’t know you had in you. You bit down on your lips, muffling them, lest it might deter him. But when he added another finger, you couldn’t really keep it in. The only thing you could do was to make sure you kept it as quiet as possible.
Friedrich could see how hard you were trying to stay silent. So much so that you had completely forgone his advice to relax. So at the same time, he removed both of his fingers. A gasp drew from your lips at the sudden emptiness.
“You can’t possibly hold your pretty noises from me, can you? Let me hear them, too.”
“Y-you want to?”
“Of course. There’s nothing of yours that I do not desire. Now remember what I said earlier?”
You nodded, repeating his words to him as he helped you lay down with a hand under the back of your head. He looked into your eyes, the corners of his lips lifting slowly. So innocent in comparison to what he was doing with his hands, pushing your legs up on the bed. He brushed his thumb over your soft cheeks and your lips again before scooting himself lower, his face hovering over your abdomen, his hands on either sides of your hips.
What was he about to do?
As though he could read your minds, he gave you an answer, delving into you without hesitation. You couldn’t hold back a moan even if you tried. Your eyes shut tight, feeling his tongue slide into your sex, his curls brushing your stomach. It made you shudder, your knees wanting to close around him. You were sure if it weren’t for his hands keeping you open, you would have easily suffocated him.
You had been so worked up all day and from all the pleasure he was sending you into that you couldn’t see anymore. Your vision were blurred, the sound of him lapping you up and your breaths filled the room.
The last thing you knew was that he had his nose nudging against your most sensitive spot and then, you were at your breaking point, completely ready to crumble. Your back arched, trying to buck up against him, a loud cry escaping your lips. As you caught your breath, you opened your eyes and saw Friedrich grinning up at you.
“You are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted,” he said, leaning over you to press a kiss to your lips. You could faintly taste yourself from his kiss. “Was that alright for you?”
You slipped your hands onto his warm cheeks and then his hair, slightly damp from sweat. You stroked the soft curls between your fingers. “That might be the best thing I’ve ever experienced.”
“Might be, huh? I guess I must try harder.”
You didn’t mean that.
While he left you to blush over your own words, he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. It only made your face redder.
“Scoot up further, my love.”
You did as he said, backing yourself up further on the bed. But you didn’t stop looking.
He looked like a Greek god, the ones you had only ever seen see in galleries and museums. Broad chest, glistening abs, strong arms. As he unbuckled his pants, you couldn’t help but gasp. He was rock hard. You didn’t get to gawk for too long though for he made his way into bed next to you. His face next to yours, his breath fanning across your neck.
“Friedrich,” you whispered.
He hummed, his brows dipping, a small smile on his lips.
“Is there more?”
“If you’d like, of course.”
“I would.”
Friedrich had no idea where the shy lady had just went. In her place was someone else entirely, unafraid of her own sexuality. His very own Goddess. He placed a hand on her waist, pulling her closer. “Do you feel just what you do to me?”
“I need you closer.”
He smirked, nodding to himself as he propped his body up on his hands on either side of you, his legs between yours. “How’s this?”
“More,” you sighed breathlessly.
“As you command,” he said, pushing into you with ease. Your vision went black, watery eyes clamping shut at the new sensation, your mouth falling open. He pressed his forehead to yours, inhaling your breaths and the scent of you. The both of you breathed together as you adjusted to accommodate him. “Are you alright?”
You nodded rapidly. You were more than alright. You were perfect. But you could barely speak, let alone put all of your emotions into words.
“I’ll move, yes?”
“Y-yes,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck to brace yourself.
He moved in slow and steady drags. His forehead on yours as a gush of air pushed its way out of his lungs in hot gasps.
"Please," you said in your fuzzy state of mind, your voice echoeing off the walls. “Fri-“
“Say my name, baby. I’m yours.”
Your toes curled, your grip tightening around his neck. He began to pick up his pace, rocking his rhythm against you. The sinful sounds of flesh against flesh and heavy moans from the both of you filled the air.
He didn’t slacken, didn’t faltar until you were hitting your high again. It arrived much faster than you thought possible and the encouragements he kept whispering in your ear certainly accelerated the pace. “Oh-Friedrich! Friedrich!” you said, your chest rising up and down roughly. He spilled into you some few thrusts after you finished riding the waves of pleasure.
You chanted his name like he was your religion and you were a believer. Because at that moment and from now on, it was set in stone. You were his and he was all yours.
