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Awynter - Tumblr Blog
Although Anne was sure she knew the answer, something inside her wanted to hear him say it. In more ways than he could comprehend, he had saved her. From loneliness, from George's wrath, and even from herself. He was her hero, in more ways than one. But she waited, listening for the answer she'd been hoping for. And then he said it, his strained voice uttering the part that her heart ached for most: that he wanted to.
The way he wriggled beneath her touch made her flush with pride and the corner of her lips twitched upwards. She'd had a similar effect on George and it had been addicting. The power trip of making a man bend to her will was something that she'd never managed to find anywhere else. It was the one thing that she, as a woman, held over men as a species. But, in this case, she wasn't eager to wield it as a weapon as much as she wanted to use it as a tool.
Each compliment he uttered earned another tender kiss against his thigh, the rhythm of her strokes slowing to a tantalizing pace. She waited, holding herself back from taking him into her mouth. Anne knew there would be another time for such a thing. She could show him what wicked tricks she'd learned to do with her mouth another night, but tonight she wanted to give herself to him.
Her name is all she needs to hear before she abruptly stops toying with him and unfurls her hand from his erection. Carefully, she rises to her feet again and reached forward to grab his hands. Anne pulls him back up to a sitting position before pressing her mouth to his for a hungry, feverish kiss. As she deepens the kiss, she gently pushes him backwards, urging him to make room for her to crawl onto the bed with him. Her own senses are clouded and Anne can't tell what is her own decision and what the heat between her legs is telling her to do. In a hushed voice, she leans in and whispers gentle command.
"Take me, John."
"Why did you marry me, John?"
Swallowing thickly, it took him a moment to comprehend her words and all at once memories of the past months flickered in his mind, juxtaposing visions of the gardens, of the peaceful countryside, and then the wicked face of the bastard Chervil accompanied with the bray of Lady Pleinsworth as they attempted to cast Anne into ruin.
Anne's past was her own and it'd remained so for he knew if he began questioning, he'd be expected to reciprocate. No; her past was hers, his past was his; what happened then... it didn't matter now, not now, not within the walls of their room.
"Why did you marry me, John?"
"To save you," but he didn't say that for that wasn't right either; this marriage wasn't some selfless act, and gazing down at where she was nestled against his lower half, he answered, "Because I wanted to."
She moved forward and he groaned, his head falling back into the bedding when her breathe ghosted over his length, a new cord of pleasure making him squirm, his hips threatening to buck as she continued her cruel teasing. He was feverish, his pulse hammering throughout every part of him, the ache in his lower abdomen deepening.
"Tell me what you like about me."
He could practically feel her lips brushing over him with each word and he whimpered, blinking frantically, trying to maintain control lest he wanted to finish in her hand.
"I-I like your smile. I like the way you laugh. I-I..." he was losing his train of thought, her pace against him seemingly quicker and he felt closer to falling over the edge, "You're kind," the words spilling from him now, desperately trying to keep his senses, "and clever and... Fuck. Anne, please."
i'll do the rest of the moodboards & some drafts tomorrow but imma log off for the night 🖤
💕 our muses’ romantic relationship (Gotta badger you here too lol.)
posted here ♡
PROMPTS FOR A LITTLE JEALOUSY * assorted dialogue for when you see the person you're interested in with someone else and go... hey wait a minute, adjust as necessary
are you two... together?
i should probably ask if you're single first.
who was that you were talking to?
did you two have a nice chat?
are we really doing this now?
what was that all about?
i don't like it when they touch you.
they need to learn to keep their hands off you.
are you trying to make me jealous?
you just gave me the impression we were exclusive.
who was that, anyway?
was that someone you know?
it's completely innocent.
were you flirting with them?
that was a little bit excessive.
they were flirting with you.
i'm not jealous.
i'm upset with you.
they didn't mean anything by that.
i just thought we had something going on.
they know i have feelings for you.
i hate it when you get jealous.
i'm two seconds away from throwing a punch.
they did that on purpose.
wait a minute... are you jealous?
you have no reason to worry.
i'm not interested in them, i promise.
they do get a little touchy-feely, i'll admit.
they don't mean anything by it.
did they just try to kiss you?
we're just really good friends!
you know i only have eyes for you.
please ignore them, okay?
it's not like i'm in love with you or anything.
they're just trying to upset you.
i just don't like it when someone else flirts with you.
i don't blame them, of course, but you're mine.
next time someone tries to hit on you, call me over.
i'll give them a piece of my mind.
they know you're taken, right?
i didn't want to get in your way.
clearly your mind is elsewhere.
if you'd rather be with them, then just tell me.
i need to know where we stand.
can we be more exclusive?
i just don't like it when they talk to you like that.
you have absolutely nothing to worry about.
if they make you happy... i can't stop it.
maybe i have a crush on you. so what?
there was a better way to go about this, you know.
you could have been a little bit nicer.
did you have to be so nasty about it?
i'm going to scream.
i don't want anything coming in between us.
you trust me, don't you?
if you trust me, you have nothing to worry about.
this jealousy of yours is getting a little bit out of control.
i love only you.
why do they have to hold your hand like that?
they couldn't keep their hands off you.
i hate watching you deal with that.
i should give them a piece of my mind.
what? me? jealous? never.
i think i'm allowed a little jealousy every now and then.
you're mine, and i want everyone to know that.
did you just... get jealous over me?
you said you weren't the jealous type.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄
Send an emoji and I’ll make a moodboard for:
🌞 my muse’s aesthetic
🌙 your muse’s aesthetic
👨👩👧👦 my muse’s family
💼 my muse’s job/occupation
🍕 my muse’s favorite foods
💛 our muses’ relationship
💕 our muses’ romantic relationship
🔮 my muse’s zodiac sign
🏨 my muse’s town/country
🏠 my muse’s home
📚 my muse’s past/childhood
🎨 my muse’s favorite color
⭐ one of my muse’s AU (please specify)
⚡ one of your muse’s AU (please specify)
“That must’ve been it, then. My rambling about A Midsummer Night’s Dream must’ve been what endeared you to me in such a fashion.” She smirked. “Perhaps I shall refrain from speaking of what novel I’m reading as of late, then, lest I seduce you any further.”
She couldn't drag her eyes away from him as he wrung out the moisture from his hair. Anne swallowed, watching his hands, yearning to reach out and hold him and never let go. Her fingers itched to reach out and comb back his hair and to savor the feeling of his closeness. But she shakes her head, trying her damnedest to shove any such thoughts out of the forefront of her mind.
“Well, my head and I thank you for your mercy.” Biting back a grin, Anne gave a dramatic bow. At his last comment, however, she couldn’t hold it in and a loud, rather unladylike snort escaped her. “Only comely? Here I thought I’d be at least a lovely or, dare I say, useful paperweight. Though I suppose I haven’t done very well at proving my usefulness thus far, have I?”
Out of the three girls, Harriet had been the one most taken with Shakespearean works. Frances held no strong opinions on many things unless they included unicorns and Elizabeth preferred her mystery novels over her younger sisters' plays. In reality, Anne herself wasn't very familiar with other playwrights. She knew authors and the historical figures her own governess had taught her in her youth, but she wasn't knowledgeable about, well, anything when it came to theatre.
"If you have any recommendations for better reading materials, I am open to suggestions. My knowledge of the performing arts is painfully limited to the great Bard, and Moliere." Anne let out a sigh, feigning distress at having to admit her own shortcomings. “If I were to be cast as Viola, I might have to rely on you for a costume. I’ve already worn your clothes once before. What harm could a second time do?” A lot, she thinks. An awful lot.
“You are not an idiot.” She pressed, a firm tone refusing to accept such comments. It wasn't exactly a scolding cadence, but it was incredibly similar to the tone she took on when the Pleinsworth girls took to fighting one another. “Foolish, perhaps. Naïve at times.” And incredibly, wickedly, tragically beautiful.
“Yes, it was clever, I suppose, but entirely uncalled for.” She blushed furiously, a mixture of anger and embarrassment colliding within the confines of her chest. If she hadn't been so struck by how badly she wanted to kiss him again, she might've shook with annoyance at such a careless prank.
“As much as I take pleasure in teasing you, I would never stoop so low.” Cheeks brightening and eyes wide, Anne lowered her voice, as though even the ripples in the water could not be privy to her sentiments.
“Someone could’ve seen you, Ben. Someone who would've admired the view much less than I.” Anne winced at her own words, but trudged on. “N-Nonetheless, I highly encourage a firm scolding when you return inside. And if you aren’t up for it, I certainly will. Mister Bridgerton may have thought it a measly joke, but he put you in danger. He… He could’ve gotten you fired, o-or worse.” She didn’t want to think about worse, not when a mere two weeks sentence had made her heart yearn so much. A lifetime without him would surely be enough to kill her.
“It's funny, I was hoping the next time we met, we might speak about the... predicament we've found ourselves in.” Anne swallowed, desperately pushing the memory of his lips out of her mind. When she started again, her tone was softer but just as serious as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “But I'm not sure this is the right time to discuss matters of the heart, either. I'm beginning to think the time will never be quite right.”
Unbidden, flashes of skin came to mind and Benjamin flushed, the color burning along his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. "I'm afraid it will take far more than ankles and toes to seduce me, Miss Wynter," he said. "I'm a man of simple tastes: one offer of opening a book, and I'm yours."
Wincing at the implication -- could he do or say nothing right as of late? -- he cleared his throat before taking hold of his hair, wringing excess water from his sodden locks while meeting her gaze. Anne's eyes were so wide and impish and blue -- so, so very blue -- that he momentarily lost his breath and looked away again, startled by the wave of yearning crashing restlessly against his heart.
"I’ll be sure to designate my dismembered head to you in my will.”
The joke startled him back to attention, and with a soft, husky laugh, Benjamin assured her, "I think I much prefer it attached, thank you very much, but I appreciate your generosity. If nothing else, I suppose I could use it as a comely paperweight."
Humming at her Anne Boleyn assessment -- it wasn't the most pleasing outlook -- he agreed, "Perhaps we need to get Frances to read some Shakespearean comedies for a while instead. I would much rather see you donning the garments of Viola than poor Queen Anne."
Unbidden, a hint of ruddy embarrassment nipped at his cheeks. The thought of her clad in men's clothes, albeit innocent on the surface, conjured thoughts of legs and hips, and swallowing low in his throat, he chuckled to mask the rising heat beneath his collar. "Um...on second thought, perhaps she should steer clear of Shakespeare altogether."
Anne continued to tease him -- Lord above, why couldn't he focus? -- and snapping his eyes back up toward her face, Benjamin blinked a moment as he struggled to comprehend. Her mouth was moving -- well, there he went being distracted again -- but he couldn't quite get a proper grasp of the words.
"I'm...sorry, I...think I must've gotten water in my ears," Benjamin deflected.
Right. Smooth recovery.
Anne narrowed her eyes. "Do you me asking how exactly you managed to get into this predicament in the first place? I saw Mister Bridgerton take your clothes, but... that doesn't explain why you were without them in the first place." Finally, her expression turned a touch mischievous. "Care to explain yourself, Mister Tallmadge?"
"Not in particular," Benjamin said, fighting back a smile. "But since you asked so nicely...Gregory convinced me to take a swim, so I agreed. I didn't want to get my clothes wet, and I also didn't wish to borrow anyone's garments, so..." He shrugged, sheepish. "In short, I'm an idiot, Miss Wynter. I should've seen behind his schemes the moment he spoke." A flash of fond amusement warmed his eyes. "Still, it was rather clever of him, wasn't it? I'd say I taught him well, but he's never been privy to my own pranks."
"Nonsense. If anyone is to encourage a woman to speak her mind, I would certainly hope it to be another woman." Anne offered a friendly smile as she waved away the notion. If such critiques were coming from the opposite sex, she might not have given the same leniency, but nothing about the other's words felt malicious.
"Besides, I wouldn't be a very good governess if I only taught what I thought was true. I always tell my girls not to be afraid of speaking up and speaking out." At Astra's compliment, Anne blushed, averting her gaze with a soft chuckle. "I can only hope their mother thinks the same when their educations are complete. I merely hope to imbue them with knowledge so that they can be more than what is expected of them. Women are so often overlooked, when some of the smartest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing have been ones of the fairer sex."
Her eyes widened at the offer and Anne couldn't hide the grin on her face. "That is very generous of you... I only wish I had the means to offer you something of equal value."
@awynter : ❝ I don't hate you . I actually like you . a lot . ❞ ✧.*
her lips parted in a look of gentle surprise , eyes softening from their guarded gaze . she had endlessly worried that her suggestions , or rather , her indignation contributions to anne's teachings were poorly received , or worse , taken as trivial and unimportant . she was desperate for intellectual companionship , the kind that was easily found in a circle of men , but was less common amongst the women .
❝ well , I like you very much , too . ❞ a quiet , little laugh escaped her , one that was a little shy , the opposite of her rather incredulous criticisms of the state of education in mayfair . her idle fingers busied themselves by stirring another lump of sugar into her teacup . ❝ I worried that you might've despised how frequently I give my opinion . ❞
she leaned forward then , with honest and earnest concern , across the tea table that separated them . ❝ of course , I don't mean to insult your ability . your girls have flourished under your tutelage . ❞ in fact , she incredibly admired how anne doted upon the girls in her charge , and perhaps felt a pang of jealousy for the opportunity she herself did not have . ❝ I only wish for you to know that my library is at your disposal , should you require it . ❞
His moans of delight make her grin and her pace quickens just a bit more. Her prior experiences had all felt very one-sided. She was used to achieve a goal and her desires were never encouraged. She had never managed to reach climax the way George had, and it had never seemed fair to her. But with John, it didn't feel one-sided. She wanted to please him, to make him feel powerful and loved. It didn't matter if he had no intentions to reciprocate such actions, not when the moans from his lips sounded so sweet.
I trust you. It's not quite the dirty talk that she was used to, but it does more to arouse her than any of George's explicit comments. What was more risky than trusting another person? What was more dangerous than giving your body, mind, and soul in the hands of someone else?
She moves closer, still on her knees as he leans back. It was strange seeing him so vulnerable, so willing to give himself to her out of sheer desire. It made her heart skip a beat and the wave of heat spread further down, down, down until it was practically dripping down her thigh.
"Why did you marry me, John?" Her voice was low and breathy as she leaned closer, hand still stroking him with a steady rhythm. It was not the question she had expected to tumble from her lips, and yet its the one that fills the air as she lowers her head closer to his length in her hand, her breath hot against the skin of his erection. "Tell me what you like about me."
In the times before there was always an unspoken judgement with seeking monetary pleasure. He'd managed to keep his senses during his trips to Holy Ground only because it was fear, panic persuading him to go at all; most times he expected it to be his last visit, and then the strings of fate would unravel further and he'd find himself back in the very same worn canvas tents weeks later.
He didn't feel ashamed this time though, not with Anne knelt before him. It was a different kind of want, a different kind of understanding now that she could so clearly see her affect on him.
He wanted to feel her, needed to feel her, yet when she wrapped a delicate hand around his length, any inclinations were lost, his only focus on the cord of pleasure snaking up his spine as she made use of the precum leaking from his cock, her hand quickly sodden as she stroked him.
"Is this okay?"
"Mhm," his eyes were closed, his breathing haphazard as he fought to find his words.
"Tell me if I do anything you don't like."
Her lips dotted kisses on his thighs and he groaned, utterly lost to her touch; slowly falling to lay on his back on the bedding, he surrendered to her.
"I trust you," spoken clearly before his voice fell apart at another wave of pleasure, moaning her name, "Anne... "
"No, I don't imagine it would be." She smiled weakly. Her own life had been far from peaceful and she'd never known the hardships of war. She knew the pains of a broken heart, of exile and shame. She knew the struggles of having to start over in an entirely foreign place. But the exact trials that a soldier endured made her own troubles seem childish. After all, most of her problems stemmed from her own mistakes.
She was hesitant to move much, not wanting to stain her own dress, but also not wishing to break the stillness. It was peaceful. The weather was charming, the air tepid and sky clear. There was a startling lack of screaming young ladies, and the simple company of another made it feel like a dreamscape. When he shifts to look at her, she follows suit and sits up, flattening out her skirts as she folded her legs.
"The sun will set eventually." Anne offered with a gentle tone. "The clouds will return, the skies will darken. And we will return to our lives. Unfortunately, everything is fleeting, even peace." As a light flush of embarrassment crossed her cheeks, Anne bowed her head in apology. "Forgive me, I suppose that's the most reassuring thing to say."
Certainly, life had been anything but peaceful for Thomas. Having been sent down south for much of the war, he had been disturbed to see what the war had made of his home and his loved ones. His beloved father had been killed by men considered Thomas’s comrades in the war, his younger brother had taken his birthright and used it to betray all that he held dear. Setauket, and the rest of America, held nothing for him.
So, he had taken passage to England. Though he knew some disdained him for his accent and his now severely weakened leg, he had generally been accepted by those he met. To sustain himself and earn even a small crust of bread, he had begun to work as a tutor. He had always had a talent for languages and for figures and he quickly picked back up now that he had access to books.
That was what had brought him to the Pleinsworth household, and to Anne.
“The life of a soldier isn’t very peaceful,” Thomas responded, a smile flickering onto his lips. He had been lying in the grass, certainly staining his shirt and waistcoat. However, as this moment, he did not mind. These stolen moments of peace in the garden of the home seemed miles away from judgmental eyes.
Slowly, Thomas turned some onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow so he could better face Anne. His green eyes looked to her, searching her face. In a softer voice, he continued, “I certainly hope this peace isn’t fleeting.”
“It’s so strange. I’ve never felt so peaceful, before.” - from Thomas (@setauketloyalties)
"You find peace strange?" Curiously, Anne eyed him, searching his features for any sign of deception. When she couldn't seem to locate any sense of jest, she sighed, nodding along with his sentiment. She knew all too well how foreign a single moment of peace could be. Most of her time was spent around three young girls, so serenity was hardly ever an option and, when it was, it was short-lived. But it was different for men. Or at least she thought it was. "Well, I'm glad I was to help offer at least a sliver of peace. As fleeting as it might be."
“You’d keep me in suspense about such a thing after I revealed my ankles and toes to you? I didn’t take you for such a petty man, Benjamin Tallmadge.” She hid a smile behind her hand, even though she knew her face was hidden from view. It was much easier to be brave when she wasn't face-to-face with him, so Anne let the jibes flow freely while she could. It felt nice to be able to fall back into their routine of banter, especially after their last meeting had ended so abruptly.
She listened as he trudged out of the water and onto shore. She practically held her breath, closing her eyes to imagine what order he might be dressing in. Would he put his breeches on first, or his shirt? Would he pull his hair up, or let it fall around his face? She shook the thought away, trying to rid her mind of the mental imagery of his undressed body. When he gave her the permission to turn around, Anne waited a moment, letting her heart steady itself before she dared to face him again.
“Is that so?" Hugging her arms around herself, she smirked and shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I’ll be sure to designate my dismembered head to you in my will.”
As lighthearted as the morbid comment was, Anne couldn't help but worry that losing her head was an entirely real possibility. Her very own Henry would find her at some point, and Anne wouldn't put it past George to order a beheading for her crime. He had always bore a flair for the dramatics. English men had that in common, it seemed.
“Tell that to Frances. She’s always rather intent on making me portray Anne Boleyn. And, knowing our luck, she’d assign you the role of my adoring husband.” Snorting, Anne looked away to hide the blush on her cheeks. While she certainly wouldn't mind being Ben's wife--on stage, of course-- she wasn't sure she wanted to assign herself to the same fate as her character. If she were to take on another life on stage or anywhere else, Anne would've much preferred a happy ending.
Anne had taught the girls about Henry VIII and his poor wives the first winter she'd been employed at the Pleinsworth house. Her lessons had been the very thing that had spurred an inspirational spark in Harriet and, ever since, Anne was the only one 'allowed' to play Boleyn. Both Harriet and Frances insisted it was because of the shared name, and Elizabeth often joked that Anne should be grateful her name wasn't Catherine.
When allowed her gaze to fall back onto him, it was just as he brushed a strand of hair out of his face and her stomach flip-flopped. Had he gotten more handsome in a mere two weeks? It was impossible. It was ridiculous. Charlotte had always said that absence made the heart grow fonder, but she couldn't imagine her heart could become any more fond of him. She didn't think her heart had that much space to lend.
"And what sort of idea would that be exactly?" She hummed, tilting her head to peer at him, a hint of a smile on her lips. "As far as I know, some people have already gotten the wrong idea. We had a play written about us, after all. About our love. Not many people can claim such a thing." Anne swallowed and fumbled to correct herself. "About the Fairy Princess and the Frog Prince's love, I mean. Not ours... Nevermind." Biting her lip, she wracked her brain for a change of subject, anything to pull her mind away from the topic of their love, real or fictional.
"Do you mind me asking how exactly you managed to get into this predicament in the first place? I saw Mister Bridgerton take your clothes, but... that doesn't explain why you were without them in the first place." Quirking an eyebrow, she bit back a smirk. "Care to explain yourself, Mister Tallmadge?"
The moment that all-too-familiar glint entered Anne's eyes, Benjamin realized she was about to make a razor-sharp quip. Sure enough, with a coy little smirk, she asked, "You don't normally swim, or you don't normally swim in such a bold fashion?"
Benjamin's laughter was husky with embarrassment. "Perhaps I should leave you in suspense," he deflected. "After all, what sort of charm would I have if you knew everything there is to know about me?"
Anne hummed. "So, I suppose this means I'm not invited to join you?"
Benjamin's smile instantly wiped clean. Although he knew she was teasing him -- surely, that was all? -- he still felt a strong, fiery lurch in his stomach that made him swallow low in his throat.
Mercifully, Anne turned and promised to stand guard. Had she kept quiet a moment longer, he feared what he might have proposed...
Exhaling once she was safely hidden from view, Benjamin rose and started wading for the shore. Despite there being no immediate danger of being seen, he felt utterly mortified and self-conscious as the pleasant afternoon air touched his bare skin. Naturally, he trusted that Anne would keep her word -- she was a lady -- but a small part of him feared she might chance a peek over her shoulder while he was at his most vulnerable.
Blushing furiously at the thought, Benjamin quickly splashed free of the water and grabbed his clothes, shaking with nerves as he quickly vaulted his shirt over his head. Due to the lengthy span of fabric, his indecency was almost instantly covered, and he breathed a little easier while tending to his breeches.
His stockings and shoes, though a necessary part of his ensemble, remained on the bank since the idea of traipsing about with wet garments -- or rather, even wetter than what he presently wore -- seemed utterly abhorrent.
"You can look now," Benjamin called over to Anne, though his voice was small. He managed a smile at her quip about Frances' plays.
"If this is a common happenstance for you, I should discourage you from reading The Shepherd, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII. As marvelous a story as it is, I am rather fond of my head."
Chuckling, he agreed, "You have quite a pretty head, so I'd hate to see it dismembered from your lovely shoulders -- if that's not too morbid a thing to say, of course."
Not quite the most endearing of compliments, he wryly thought.
Brushing back a soaked tendril of his hair, Benjamin tromped up along the bank to join her, squinting against the bright afternoon sun as he teased, "You know, you and I really need to stop meeting like this. Two instances of becoming drenched in a span of two or so weeks -- people might start to get the wrong idea."
He wasn't sure how he could tease her, all things considered, and catching her eye, his pulse wobbled before he looked away again, recalling how the last time he'd seen her so close, she'd been pressed up against him in a clashing of mouths, and a tugging of garments.
❛ no one beats me, no one wins my game. ❜
"And why is that?" Anne narrows her eyes, watching him with careful scrutiny. She feels like she knows the type of man he is, feels as though she's met hundred of versions of him in her lifetime, and yet she can't be entirely sure he's exactly the same. After a moment, she leans in closer, her gaze growing more pointed. "Is it because the game's rigged? Because you don't want anyone to win?"
Just because I am a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale. / from day!
“I…” Anne’s words trailed off as she tried to formulate a reply that didn’t sound entirely ignorant. She knew that lives were rarely fairy tales, even for those with the world at their fingertips. She had been one, once upon a time, but even then her life had been far from magical. “I did not mean to make it sound as though you were living a fairy tale. I merely meant that it must be rather freeing to live such a life. A life of freedom and luxury. That's all I meant."
Seeing him admit to wanting her only fueled her further, the blush on her cheeks spreading to her chest and she smiled at the feeling of his thumb grazing her lips. Slowly, she gathered him in her hand, keeping her eyes on his face as she gently stroked his erection. She knew that such a thing would be heinous in the eyes of... well, anyone, but they were married, so it couldn't be entirely unholy for her to please her husband. Right?
It didn't matter to her, though. She'd already cemented her place as a sinner when she'd let desire cloud her judgment as Annelise, so there wasn't much farther she could fall. And she wasn't scared of falling when she knew John would be there to catch her.
Her hand moved slightly faster, watching his features to make sure she wasn't doing anything wrong. As confident as she had been to offer such a thing, Anne knew that there was a large chance that she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't want to hurt him, didn't want him to loathe her for being too eager to please, so she kept her pace slow. Achingly slow, as she grew wetter for him, her own body pleading for more. As he brushed the hair out of her face, she smiled, strikingly coy considering the heinous things she was doing.
"Is this okay?" She asked, voice soft as she continued stroking, leaning forward to press soft kisses against his thigh. "Tell me if I do anything you don't like."
"Nope." Anne smiled wickedly and John found himself matching her smile as he hastened to unfasten his breeches; she was rising from his lap then, and he felt chilled without her limbs interwoven with his, but the sudden separation allowed him to wriggle himself free from his last remaining clothing. He expected Anne to join him again on the bed, but he found his mouth gone dry, his pulse hammering more haphazardly in his ears when she knelt before him, edging herself confidently towards the evidence of her affect on him.
He wanted to tell her she "didn't have to", wanted to lift her himself and pulled her back into the bed, but then she looked at him, her doe-eyed expression darkened with lust and she said, "I want to see how badly you want me," and he realized he couldn't say anything in protest.
"I do want you," it was the truth yet he knew in that moment he would've said anything to please her; he reached for her, brushing a thumb over her full lips before moving for her hair, collecting the loose strands from her face, "Please."
“A governess, yes. My position is in Mayfair currently. Though I've worked in quite a few places over the years.” She confirmed with a soft nod. Anne was surprised by the excitement in the other woman’s features, versus the expected distaste knowledge of her employment typically evoked. “It’s not the most glamorous position, I admit, but I do adore my students.”
“Oh, you needn’t do that.” Waving her hands to dismiss the gesture, Anne let out a chuckle. “I would love to join you, but perhaps sans ale. I could not return home smelling of spirits and not get a scolding of my own. But you are free to indulge to your heart’s content. If anything, consider me your knight to protect you from the less-than-chivalrous sorts that haunt these halls.”
athena was relieved that the woman decided to join her. it wasn't often that athena could truly speak her mind with the ladies of the court. at least here, it felt like all her sins could be forgiven. "are you a teacher? or governess?" athena leans forward despite the stickiness of the table. "i had a governess who taught me about all the lands in asia." the princess recalls her governess fondly, despite the scoldings she received when she misbehaved.
"my goal is to be...? relaxed and happy, and enjoy the warm summer air. you must join me, i'll purchase some ale for you!" she grins at the thought.
Is this not proof enough?
"Nope." Anne bit back a grin as she slowly shook her head, teasing him. Slowly, she slid off him and planted her feet back onto the floor, swaying slightly from the feverish heat burning through her. She watched him for a moment before stepping closer and kneeling in front of the bed, in front of him.
George had always enjoyed this part, and, although George was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment, her body knew what had worked in the past and she was curious to see how her husband reacted to such a thing. Inching closer, her hands lightly grazing his thighs, Anne stared up at him with reddened cheeks. "I want to see how badly you want me."
They'd hardly done anything yet already it felt to John as an obscene portrait; from Anne's gasped moans, from the wet noises emanating from between her thighs as he steadily worked, using his thumb to attend to her while he curled two fingers deep into her heat. Her pulse felt as if it was one with his as she draped herself more fully atop of him, and feeling feverish, feeling a desperation settling over him, he trailed his kisses lower, over her collarbone to her softly heaving chest, capturing one of her nipples between his lips.
She was grabbing his face then and he made a disappointed noise as he was forced to look up again, his discontent replaced with a newfound moan when she brought her lips to his.
"Show me how much you want me."
Brow furrowing, he waited for her to say more, but when she didn't, he gently took hold of her hand, "Is this not proof enough?" he asked hoarsely, his thoughts hazy with lust as he pressed her hand to the hardness at the front of his breeches, biting back a groan knowing he'd have to part from her to finish undressing, yet he removed his hand from between her thighs, his fingers stained with her ardor as he began fumbling for the buttons at the front of his breeches.
Anne turned to look at Elayne, a sincere smile taking hold of her features. There were certainly worse people to be trapped in the rain with, and she found that this wasn’t an entirely horrible situation. If not for the rain, Anne might never have had the opportunity to speak with her otherwise.
“Unfortunately, I’m more worried about the trouble that might occur from my lack of presence.” She could only imagine what sort of shenanigans Frances and her sisters would get into if their governess was gone for too long. “But perhaps this is the universe’s way of telling me to slow down and smell the roses. The tragically soaked roses.”
She was glad that the person who was to share this gazebo with her during the downpour of rain was one that she could see was tolerable. She was lovely and Elayne had seen Anne Wynter many times before although the two had never been properly introduced.
"I do think it is unfortunate, however I think that..." She tested the thought of what might this girl think were she to let out the thoughts that were there at the front of her mind. "...I think that we could very well take advantage of this opportunity. No one is about to get us into trouble."
Her mind is blurry, clouded over with a haze of longing as his hands graze over her skin. She'd imagined what this moment might feel like for longer than she'd care to admit, but it would never have matched up to the reality of it. His rough hands trailing over her soft skin was a chaotic mixture.
She moans into his mouth as his hands find their way between her legs and she slinks her arms around his shoulders to steady herself. It had been nearly a decade since she'd last been with a man and Anne can't help but think all the waiting had been worth it. She doesn't know if she'd be strong enough to wait again, but she wouldn't have to. Not anymore. She knows she would've contained herself if he hadn't wanted this. If he had been perfectly content just going to sleep fully dressed, she would've cherished it just as much. But there's no denying she had hoped for this sort of ending. That she had prayed for this sort of blessing on their wedding night.
"John." His name slipped out as she hitched a breath, craning her neck to the side to allow him more ground to cover. She felt dizzy, her heartbeat erratic as each circle of his fingers brought a wave of pleasure. After she grew content with his lips on her chest, Anne reached out to take his face in her hands, leaning in to place a tantalizingly brief kiss to his lips. "Show me how much you want me."
Lifting his arms, John helped shrug out of his shirt. He could feel Anne's bare legs brush against his bare middle and the sensation of her skin over his was maddening, but when her hand trailed between them, his brow furrowed offering a painless wince when her fingers brushed over the scar on his abdomen, but then her soft hands were overs his and any transgressions were forgotten, all his focus remaining on her as he was malleable under her touch.
"Hopefully I can live up to your expectations."
He stifled a laugh, swallowing thickly as she guided his hands upward, his calloused hands skimming over her smooth curves -- up her thighs, over her hips -- and with each movement, the hem of her shift was forced to rise with them. He couldn't help but stare as she exposed more of herself to him. She was beautiful, there was no other word to describe her, no other image to compare to her from artwork, from the likes of poetry.
He was faintly aware of the blush burning in his own face; he felt warm, heated, an acute ache of want settling all throughout him.
When Anne guided his hands to rest over her breasts, John shifted uncomfortably beneath her, his breeches becoming more restricting by the second; instinctively, he leaned forward to kiss her, grazing his thumbs over her hardening nipples but that was when his eyes flickered to hers, almost startled to meet her gaze.
"I'm afraid so. Terribly in love." He grinned faintly, "I don't think there's a world in which I wouldn't have loved you."
"Anne..." but her name was more a moan than speech as he released her just long enough to lift her shift the rest of the way from her form so she was bared to him and he closed the space between them, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, one hand remained anchored to the back of her neck, the other slipping between her legs. The slick that awaited him made him groan into her mouth and breaking away, he trailed open mouthed kisses across her throat, wanting, needing to taste more of her, all the while rubbing slow, meticulous circles against her clit.
Deeply Exhausted Starters
"You can barely stand, you need to lie down."
"When's the last time you slept?"
"You're not fooling me, I can see the bags under your eyes."
"Rest is not optional!"
"You promised you wouldn't stay up all night reading."
"I'm just - exhausted - I'm sorry -"
"I can't remember the last time I slept."
"I just want to rest for a bit."
"I'm so tired, I can't think."
"I'm trying, I am, I just... I just wanna lay down..."
"No, I'm not tired. Leave me alone."
"It doesn't matter, I can't sleep anyway."
"Leave me alone, I'm an adult, I choose when I go to bed."
"Oh, like you're any better?"
"I'm not even that.. that tired, I'm... mm, I'm fine."
“It’s not a slight against you, Lord Bridgerton, I swear it. I just... don’t think it would be wise for you to be seen with me.” Her cheeks burned with shame. She felt awful rejecting his offer, and his gentle humility only made her feel worse. In truth she would have minded dancing with him. Although it had been a long time since she’d taken to the dance floor, there were times when she missed it. And the idea of dancing with a handsome bachelor made it even more alluring. But it was too risky. And she valued her job more than her pride.
“Dinner?” She blanched. How would she go about such a thing? It would be impossible to slip out unnoticed but it would be equally as difficult to explain to Lady Pleinsworth why a governess was attending the dinner of a viscount—and a notoriously rakish one at that. Being seen with him could very well be enough to get her fired, and then she would be back to square one.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly… I-I would not dare to impose on something as sacred as family dinner. Though I have a feeling you are not likely to accept that as an answer.” Smiling sheepishly, she bit at the inside of her cheek. “My Lord, I insist there is no favor to repay. Just your gratitude is sufficient. I need not ask for anything more than what you've already given me.”
In all his years, both as an eligible bachelor and an infamous Rake (with a prominent capital ‘R’), Anthony Bridgerton was certain he’d never once received such a blatant declination from a woman – any woman, for that matter. None but this one, anyway. It surprised him, intrigued him even.
While it stood to reason that holding fast to the arm of a Viscount would certainly earn Miss Wynter plenty of attention (albeit of mixed opinions), he simply couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t relish the opportunity to have it, excluding the wagging tongue of one Lady Whistledown. Aside from that nuisance of a gossip column. Wouldn’t any young woman want to be the center of attention?
Furling his fingers into his palm, Anthony retracted his hand and straightened his stance, though he could hardly accept the defeat.
“I respect your refusal to take to the dance floor, however you must permit me to compensate you in some way, Miss Wynter.”
But how? How could he possibly demonstrate his gratitude if the woman wouldn’t so much as be seen with him?
“Perhaps you’d be more inclined to join my family and I for dinner tomorrow night?”
🐝 * ― 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.
Troy Saga ❛ do what i say and you'll see them again. ❜ ❛ what do you live for? what do you try for? ❜ ❛ say no more, i know tat i'm ready. ❜ ❛ the blood on your hands is something you won't lose. ❜ ❛ is the price i pay endless pain? ❜ ❛ something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke. ❜ ❛ we should try to find a way no one ends up dead. ❜ ❛ why should we take when we could give? ❜ ❛ i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart. ❜ ❛ have you forgotten the lessons i taught you? ❜
The Cyclops Saga ❛ it's almost too perfect, too god to be true. ❜ ❛ what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep? ❜ ❛ your life now is in my hand. ❜ ❛ remember them, we're the ones who carry on. ❜ ❛ what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use? ❜ ❛ i am your darkest moment. ❜ ❛ i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test. ❜ ❛ that's just like you, why should i be surprised? ❜ ❛ unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain. ❜ ❛ i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done. ❜
The Ocean Saga ❛ at this rate, we won't make it out alive. ❜ ❛ please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do. ❜ ❛ yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out? ❜ ❛ you rely on wit, and people die on it. ❜ ❛ you're like the brother i could never do without. ❜ ❛ and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out? ❜ ❛ keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust. ❜ ❛ 'cause the end always justifies the means. ❜ ❛ do you know who i am? ❜ ❛ you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great. ❜
The Circe Saga ❛ whatever you need to say can wait some more. ❜ ❛ there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save. ❜ ❛ wouldn't you like a taste of the power? ❜ ❛ don't thank me friend, you very well may die. ❜ ❛ did you do something to them? ❜ ❛ if you make one wrong move, then you're done for. ❜ ❛ you and i are now evenly matched. ❜ ❛ you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust. ❜ ❛ who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make? ❜ ❛ this is the price we pay to love. ❜
The Underworld Saga ❛ all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes. ❜ ❛ i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died. ❜ ❛ when does a man become a monster? ❜ ❛ now you tell us our effort's are for nothing? ❜ ❛ how has everything been turned against us? ❜ ❛ do i need to change? ❜ ❛ i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed. ❜ ❛ what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along? ❜ ❛ what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves? ❜ ❛ if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger? ❜
The Thunder Saga ❛ you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life. ❜ ❛ i've got a secret i can no longer keep. ❜ ❛ you know that we are the same. ❜ ❛ we must do what it takes to survive. ❜ ❛ tell me you did not know that would happen. ❜ ❛ if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame. ❜ ❛ how are we supposed to trust you now? ❜ ❛ how much longer must i suffer now? ❜ ❛ someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say. ❜ ❛ please don't make me do this. ❜
The Wisdom Saga ❛ you've made your worst mistake here. ❜ ❛ this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good. ❜ ❛ you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more. ❜ ❛ did you know you talk in your sleep? ❜ ❛ i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here. ❜ ❛ you don't know what i've gone through. ❜ ❛ i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart. ❜ ❛ life would be so much worse if you had died. ❜ ❛ you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame? ❜ ❛ no one beats me, no one wins my game. ❜
your muse’s aesthetics as flowers.
bold or italicize what applies to your muse.
roses: true romantic, loving the classics, pricked fingers, perfect makeup done to impress, bruises easily, beloved but unknown, soul as old as time, overused and under-appreciated.
daisies: clean linens, youthful naivety, family, wide open spaces, running barefoot, moving towards instead of away, trying to forget about death, sun blindness.
sunflowers: standing tall, strong roots, a home to always return to, warm summer air, holding onto lost hope, belief in growth, painted overalls, split ends.
bluebells: the end of spring, determination for the truth, cold and cautious, moonlight on windowsills, the taste of ice, unnecessary shyness, quiet belief in the extraordinary, complicated morals.
daffodils: mom friend, sweets, the smell of baking, riverbanks, leaving behind a toxic situation, being happy with your reflection, believing in luck, moving in a pack.
irises: sour candies, unappreciated elegance, valor, crystals projecting rainbows on white walls, unintended organization, old royalty, refusal to bow, learning a new language for the fun of it.
lilies: secret poison, perfect handwriting, crisp consonants, pressed and ironed sheets, open windows, infinite persistence, thick skin, colder hands.
lilac: fleeting and fair, strong but delicate, radiating good vibes, the beauty of falling apart, the joy in being scattered, soft fabrics, whirlwind romance, keeping the door open.