#everyone please read this book it's so good

[sailor-aviator]

By Its Cover: Chapter Four

By Its Cover: Chapter Four

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Bickering, Arguing, Cursing (or almost), Reader feels sorry for herself somewhat, Reader disaparages herself, Heart to hearts with mom, Slight putting down of other girls (more comparing herself to others), Secret notes, Flattery, and general angst. I think that convers everything, but please let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 3.45k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

You rushed up the stairs to change for dinner, already hearing Georgie prattling on about something or other. Nora was hot on your tail, nearly running into you as you tripped over your skirts. You let out a huff as you gathered them in your hands, practically sprinting down the hall, and you counted yourself lucky that your mother was already down in the dining hall.

“Quick, Nora,” you called over your shoulder, stumbling to a stop in front of your open door. You skittered inside as Nora closed the door behind the two of you, the maid turning quickly to the clothespress, already prying open the many drawers as you stripped down.

“The blue dress, miss?” Nora asked, showing you the powder blue fabric. You nodded, padding over so she could slip the garment over your head. You changed your shoes, Nora fixing your hair as best she could as you flitted about the room.

The note hidden inside your book was still at the forefront of your mind as you rushed down the stairs after a parting thank you to your maid. The conversation around the table was as lively as ever, Georgie regaling everyone with the latest gossip from around the Island. You stopped short in the doorway upon seeing Lord Seresin, having forgotten momentarily that he had been invited. His jade green eyes snapped over to where you stood, a spark alighting upon seeing you. You sucked in a breath, your nerves aflutter. The conversation from earlier that day ran through your mind, and your lips turned downwards before you could stop them. You squared your shoulders, marching toward your seat on the opposite side of the table—just across from the handsome lord.

“Bug,” your mother greeted, disapproval over your tardiness crystal clear in her tone as she watched you sit. “How good of you to finally join us.”

“Apologies for being late,” you offered quietly, glancing around the table. Your mother’s disapproval was clear on her face just as curiosity was evident on both your brother’s and Lord Seresin’s. Georgie shot you an irritated scowl, her displeasure at the attention no longer being on her quite clear as well. You cleared your throat, hanging your head in a poor attempt to hide. You could feel all eyes on you, and you fidgeted with your fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as the servants entered the room with the first course.

The dishes clattered against one another as they were set at each place setting. The savory scent of the soup had your stomach letting out a loud growl, and a snort had your gaze moving upwards.

Lord Seresin his smile—poorly you might add—behind his hand as he feigned a cough. Your brow twitched as a sudden wave of irritation came over you, and you set your lips in a firm line as you glared at him.

Georgiana had begun relaying her gossip once more, her voice droning on as you shifted your focus back towards food.

You ate in silence as the evening passed, William and Lord Seresin speaking about business matters, your mother regaling the table with her charity ventures, and your sister doing her best to prove that she’d be the ideal wife for the eligible lord. Every so often you would feel eyes on you, and you did your best to ignore the sensation, making a point to look anywhere but across the table.

“It’s good to see that you’re feeling better, Bug.”

You looked up with wide eyes to see Lord Seresin sporting a cocky-looking smirk, his chin resting on his folded hands as he studied you.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. Lord Seresin tilted his head at you, smirk still in place.

“You mentioned feeling ill earlier today,” he prodded. “Then you left so suddenly that one could only presume it must have been serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as his eyes flashed at you.

“Yet,” he purred, “here you are.”

You swallowed thickly, your fork hovering over your plate as your skin warmed.

“Yes, well,” you stuttered, clearing your throat, “I’m sorry if I caused you to worry, my lord, but it was only a headache.”

“Must have been a rather nasty headache,” he pressed. You were vaguely aware of the gazes of both your brother and mother shifting between the two of you warily. “The way you ran out of the park, I can only assume that it must have been agonizing.”

You bristled. What was he playing at? He knows why you left the park as quickly as you did, and yet he seemed determined to hear you say it. Georgie continued prattling on about something or other, and you sat up a little straighter in your chair. You set your jaw, lips pressed firmly together as you gave the blond a rather cold stare that only seemed to make him grin wider.

“It was, my lord,” you responded, ice dripping from your tone. “It was the nastiest headache I’ve ever had. I suppose you could even call it a real pain in my-”

“Bug!” Your mother exclaims, shooting you a wide-eyed glare as her eyes flicker towards the duke as your brother covers a snort with a feigned cough. Georgie stops her chattering at the outburst, eyes narrowing as she finally takes in the scene before her. You know you’re in for her raving later with the way she fixes a conspicuous glare in your direction. You can’t back down though—not to the arrogant bastard still smirking at you from across the table. He quirks a brow at you, seemingly in challenge as he speaks.

“Such language from a young lady of the Island,” he smirked. You clench your teeth so hard, you swear they’ll break.

“Well,” you sneered, cutting into your meal and avoiding his eyes, “as I was so dutifully reminded earlier today, I am nothing more than a silly, little girl who will be lucky to even find a match.”

The room is silent as you finish. Your mother’s brow is furrowed in concern as your brother frowns, sparing you a glance before fixing a confused glare on his friend. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under with how Georgie glared at you, and Lord Seresin. A strange ache in your chest blossomed as you glanced up at him. The smirk was long gone, and a look of consternation adored his handsome features. Slowly, you placed your cutlery on your plate, clearing your throat and turning your attention towards your mother.

“My apologies,” you offered, a tight-lipped smile on your face as you rested a hand against your stomach. “It appears that I am not feeling as well as I previously thought. Might I retire for the evening?”

Your mother blinked owlishly at you. “Oh, um, yes. Of course.”

You were already on your feet and halfway towards the door by the time she finished. Lord Seresin called after you, but you refused to acknowledge him as you traipsed up the stairs.

“Don’t mind her, my lord,” you heard Georgiana’s voice echo up to you. “She’s always causing some kind of commotion around here. It’s best to just ignore her and carry on.”

Tears stung at your eyes as you cleared the landing. You didn’t know why your sister’s words stung as much as they did. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to her barbs at you, but something about them being offered to the man you once adored so much as a small child had the tears spilling over onto your cheeks in a matter of seconds. You wiped at your face furiously with the backs of your hands, waving Nora off with a wave of your hands and a shake of your head. She offered you a sympathetic look as you retreated into your room with a click as the door shut behind you.

You tore off your dress haphazardly, hiccuping sobs escaping you as you pulled your night dress over your head. Why were you so upset? You knew what people in society whispered about you behind your back. You were no great beauty like Lydia, nor were you elegant like Theodosia. You certainly didn’t know how to capture and command a room like Georgiana. You were…you. You were bookish and uninterested in frivolous things like the latest fashions. You weren’t concerned with your looks like most other ladies. You knew this about yourself, prided yourself in it even.

So why did the thought that Lord Seresin might view you in such a disparaging way make you want to break down all over again?

Your eyes were puffy and swollen long after you had managed to stop crying, yet you still sat on the bench by your window, watching the flickering flames of the candles in the streetlamps. Your back ached from sitting in the same position for so long, and yet you refused to move. You sat there long enough for a numbing sensation to crawl up your hand and into your arm from where you were pressed so tightly against the glass.

A knock sounded at the door, and you startled.

“Please, Nora,” you called out. “I just want to be alone right now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door creaked open, the light from the hallway filtering through the crack in the door as you let out a frustrated huff.

“Nora, I-” You stopped short as you whipped your head around to see your mother peering around the door at you.

“Oh,” you blinked, narrowing your eyes against the light. “It’s you, Mama.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited to see me,” she teased lightly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. You watched as she surveyed the room, a crinkle on her brow to match the purse of her lips.

“It’s so dark in here,” she tsked, moving to light one of the lamps. You didn’t reply, used to your mother going about and doing as she pleased. You wondered if that’s where Georgiana got it from.

“There,” she smiled as the candlelight flickered along the panes of the wall. You curled in on yourself as she turned to fix her smile upon you. “Much better, wouldn’t you say?”

Again, you didn’t reply. You simply waited for her to say what she came in to say. Her smile faltered after a moment of silence, and she let out a weary sigh as you continued to stare.

“Sweetheart,” she started, walking over to sit next to you. You pulled your legs closer to you in order to allow her room, and she sat with a gentle hand on your knee. She hesitated, seeming to mull over what it was she wanted to say.

“Just spit it out,” you mumbled. “I already know I’m a disappointment to you.”

Her eyes widened before a look of confusion crossed her face.

“Darling, why ever would you think that?”

“It’s obvious,” you snapped back, but there was no real bite to your tone. The ache from before returned with a vengeance, and tears welled in your eyes once more. “I’m not like everyone else. I’m not beautiful or graceful or charming. I’m temperamental, bookish, and pig-headed. I’m-”

You stopped, sucking in a deep breath as the tears threatened to spill over. You blew out the breath shakily as you wiped at your eyes.

“I’m something…to be settled for,” you finished, averting your gaze down to the floor. There was a moment’s pause before your mother took your hand.

“Oh, my darling girl,” she cooed, pulling you close to wrap her arms around you. You allowed her to maneuver you, leaning your head against her chest as you listened to her heartbeat.

“You are not temperamental, you’re passionate. You’re bookish, but my dear you are so beautiful as well. You are inquisitive and mindful, and kind, and certainly not something to be settled for,” she told you as she stroked your hair soothingly. You sniffled, raising your head to look at her.

“What about pig-headed?”

“Oh, well,” she chuckled, hugging you a little tighter. “I’m afraid you are rather pig-headed, sweetheart. It’s something you inherited from your father.”

You clicked your tongue at her, but couldn’t stop the smile that worked its way onto your face as you inhaled her scent. It was the familiar, comforting smell of lavender and fresh linen, and for a moment you were a child again, seeking comfort in the steady presence of your mother.

“Now,” she sighed, “what seems to be going on between you and Lord Seresin.”

You balked at the question, pulling away to fix her with a scowl.

“Absolutely nothing,” you asserted with a roll of your eyes. “He’s an arrogant, self-righteous bastard.”

Your mother gave you a look at your profanity, but didn’t comment on it.

“It seems that the two of you have,” she paused, “quite an interesting dynamic.”

“If you mean the kind where we can’t stand each other, then I suppose you’re correct,” you sniffed. Your mother fixed you with a dubious look.

“That’s not how it appears to me or anyone else,” she pressed.

“And what, pray tell, is everyone else seeing?” You asked with another roll of your eyes.

“Darling,” she snickered, “it’s quite clear to anyone with eyes that the duke is smitten with you.”

You laughed at that. Lord Seresin smitten with someone like you? It was absolutely a laughable thought. The man was arrogant and smug, of course, but you weren’t fool enough to believe that he wasn’t handsome and the most eligible bachelor of the season. Your laughter died down, a frown fixing on your face as you took in your mother’s serious expression.

“Mama,” you scoffed. “He’s most certainly not interested in me. The man can hardly stand me. If anything, he sees me as the same silly, little girl he was saddled with years ago.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” she countered quickly. “I think you’ve misjudged the situation-”

“Besides,” you cut her off. “It’s Georgiana who will be his wife. She’s interested and clearly the perfect match for someone like him.”

Your mother’s brow furrowed at your words before she shook her head.

“No, my darling,” she insisted. “Georgiana wants someone who will dote on her and give in to her every whim. Someone who will spoil her with finest silks and pearls. I rather doubt she’ll find that in a match with Lord Seresin.”

“And how would you know?”

“A mother knows everything, Dearest,” she smirked, patting your knee gently. “A mother knows what’s best for her children. She sees her children’s faults and virtues, and she loves them all the more for both. She sees what will make her children happy, even if they themselves don’t see it at the moment.”

You watched as she rose from the bench, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some rest, Little Bug,” she told you, heading toward the door. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

You sat with your mother’s words for some time. You couldn’t piece together why she was so convinced that Lord Seresin had any feelings other than contempt when it came to you. The image of his smug smirk at dinner flashed in your mind for a brief moment, and your frown deepened as you remembered the blatant challenge he had issued you.

It truly was amazing how easily one person could get under your skin so easily. Why he had such an effect on you was far beyond the scope of your knowledge, and you supposed that some people just had that way about them when it came to others.

The candlelight still flickered against the far wall, and it wasn’t until you heard your sister’s door close just down the hall that you finally moved from your position by the window. You padded slowly over towards the desk where the candle stood, watching the flame flicker and dance as you attempted to collect your thoughts. Closing your eyes, you let your head tip back, feeling your confusion give way to apprehension at the thought of the parading you would have to do tomorrow. Once again, you were reminded of how different the two of you were.

Georgie basked in every bit of attention thrown her way whether it was the admiration and desire from potential suitors or the envy of her competition. You, however, loathed the spotlight and preferred to spend your time locked away in your studio or the library. For a moment, you wondered if you could convince your mother to let you stay home the next day to work on your art rather than prance around the park in your sister’s shadow once more.

You opened your eyes to stare at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh as you slowly brought your gaze back down towards the desk. It was then that your eyes flickered to rest on the paper that had taken up your attention earlier that evening. Your brow furrowed once more as you chewed on your bottom lip, fingers dancing along the edge of the desk before snatching the paper up and unfolding it to reveal the scrawl etched inside.

Fairest lady,

The way of words is perhaps not my greatest strength, however I would find myself in the depths of deepest regret were I not to impart upon you the feelings that grip me so thoroughly and to my very soul.

When I saw you amongst the flowers this afternoon, it was like the very breath within me had been stolen. As I gazed upon you, the sun itself appeared to grow dim, as if it realized it paled in comparison to the very image of yourself.

But, it is not only your beauty that I have great fondness for, lady. Much like the heroine of this book you find yourself in possession of, you do not conform to the ideals of women that have been presented to you. No, you make your own path in this world, and for that I admire you greatly.

I should like to hear your thoughts on this novel once you finish it, but I should like to read your words before then. I thought it pertinent to return this book to you, and so I had a boy return it to your home. If you should like, you may reply to me in kind and leave your note by the same fountain underneath the flower pot nearest the exit. If I do not find a reply within the week, I shall know that you are not interested.

I wait in anticipation of your reply, my lady.

Robyn

You read over the note once more, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you pondered what to do. You had no knowledge of anyone named Robyn, and so you could only assume that it was a moniker of some kind. You wondered what gentleman in your sphere would have taken the time to read such a book as Northanger Abbey, taking the time to dissect the themes and elements beyond the initial glance.

Certainly no man you knew.

Now, you wondered if you should reply. If you were caught passing notes, it could stir up a scandal for your family, no matter how innocent the notes seemed. It could also be a trick that one of the meaner ladies of the Island was trying to pull. You weren’t sure you could handle being the subject of yet another joke.

Still, you had always been a curious creature, and the thought of not knowing who this person was something you couldn’t stand to let pass. You plucked a quill pen from one of the drawers, preparing it before sitting down to pen your reply.

Robyn,

You speak of me as if you know me, and yet I do not know anyone with your name or even one who uses words such as yours. You intrigue me, Robyn, and I should like to know more about you if we are to exchange letters concerning our thoughts to one another. For much like Catherine Morland, I too have a fondness for stories and fantastical ideas. I only wish that they not be advertised or used against me more than they already are at present.

Can I trust that you will not use my words against me in the future? I find it rather hard to put my trust in someone when I do not know who they are. Might you tell me some things about yourself?

I await your reply,

Lady Sinclair

A/N: And here's an update for you all! I know I just ran a poll, but I might update Fool's Fare next just because I'm pretty far into it already. But then I'll update Hanging By a Moment! Can't believe it's actually winning, I thought I'd never see this day again, but I knew Jake and Scout would have their time in the sun again!! Anyway, what do we think so far?? Are Bug and Lord Seresin going to make amends, or are they doomed to hate each other? Who is Robyn? What do they want with Bug??

Also, just a reminder that I've started my travel season for the semester, so updates should actually be a little more frequent despite what you'd think. I've got a lot of time to hang out in hotel rooms coming up lol

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[ariestrxsh]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, heavy step sibling kink, brutal face fucking, breath play, dacryphilia, degradation, humiliation, light praise, roughdom!stepbro!chris, bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 author's note: 🖤 this is not incest!!! the characters are step siblings. i'm aware that it's still morally grey for some people. totally get it. if you don't like the concept, don't read it bc it will literally be impossible for you to forget they're step siblings. 😭 i just need rough dom stepbro chris more than i need air in my lungs. (this joke will be even funnier to you after you read this fic if you do.) and last thing: sorry x100 for writing this lmao. and a super big sorry to anyone who's on my taglist who didn't wanna read this.

🖤 summary: 🖤 after arguing about whose turn it is to do the dishes, you and your step-brother chris decide to have a breath-holding contest, but there's only one way chris can be sure that you're playing fair.

holdyourbreath

"So, are you going to do the dishes before my dad and your mom get home?" Your eyes darted up at Chris, your disgusting new step brother, from across the room while you were curled up on the living room floor next to the dim lamp with a warm blanket and a good book.

"Are you fuckin' with me, kid? I thought it was your turn to do the dishes," Chris replied smugly, glaring at you from his gaming chair as he sat in front of the TV, mindlessly playing some dumb Modern Warfare whatever number they're on now.

"I did them last night," you responded defensively, your voice becoming shrill. "Yeah, and I did them two nights in a row before that. What's the big deal?" Chris snapped back, rolling his eyes at how whiny you were.

You resented how hard-headed he was, especially because you were hard-headed, and there was only room for one stubborn person in this house.

His mom had met your dad about six months prior and three months into knowing each other, they eloped, and now you were stuck living under someone else's roof with an obnoxious, gross, smug step brother who never carried his weight around the place and made everything everyone else's problem.

You weren't the type of person to use the word hate lightly, but you hated Chris.

"Chris, can you please just do the dishes? I'm busy. I'm right about to reach the climax in this book," you responded in an agitated and slightly desperate tone. "Well, I'm busy, too. I'm about to go climax after this game," Chris chuckled at your word choice.

"Ugh, you're disgusting!" You slammed your book shut, shooting him a look of contempt. "Sorry, princess. Did I ruin your climax?" Chris smirked, motioning towards your book and biting his lip.

You almost got up and just did the dishes yourself, because you knew they needed to be done, and despite how much you didn't want it to be true, Chris was perhaps, even more hard-headed than you, but you had an idea.

"Let's settle this like adults. Breath holding contest. Whoever holds their breath the longest doesn't have to do the dishes tonight," you suggested, and Chris gave you a look like you'd given him an offer he couldn't refuse.

You and Chris were both competitive, and contests were often the only effective way to settle arguments between the two of you. Sometimes it would be rock, paper, scissors. Or a staring contest. Or a one-on-one game of basketball. Anything you guys could turn into a competition really.

"Deal," Chris confidently responded, pausing his game and spinning around in his chair until he was facing you. "Okay, on the count of three," you said, setting a stopwatch on your phone, and the two of you both took in a deep inhale before holding your breath as long as you could.

You and Chris stared directly at each other, giving each other dirty looks and sizing each other up, both trying to gain dominance over the other. You didn't really care to stay true to the game and play fair. When you started running out of air, you slowly exhaled through your nose, cycling your breath and hoping Chris wouldn't catch on.

You couldn't let that smug bastard win. After all, it was his turn to do the dishes, and your book was way more important than his stupid video games.

After the stopwatch hit a minute and a forty-five seconds, Chris' face was turning a bit red. He pinched his eyebrows together and scrunched his nose at you in a look of displeasure, and after about fifteen more seconds of this, Chris let out a long, angry exhale. "Fuck you, you're cheating!" He accused you.

"I am not!" You snarked back, but the way your voice naturally raised an octave or two had even you unconvinced of your own lie. "Bitch, you didn't even breathe out before you said that. And you don't look or sound out of breath at all," Chris replied, narrowing his eyes at you and clenching his jaw.

"I wasn't cheating," you said, avoiding eye contact. "You were, and I can prove it," Chris licked his lips maliciously and grinned at you. "You can prove it?" You said in a skeptical tone, testing him. Chris stood up, slowly sauntered over to you while you were still sitting on the ground.

He peered down at you with a darkness in his eyes as he started unfastening his belt and unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. "What the fuck are you doing?" You asked, glaring up at him, but your eyes fell and widened when he pulled out his big, juicy dick. It was already hard and the tip was swollen and shiny with a layer of precum.

Conveniently for Chris, your jaw dropped as you studied the way his veins webbed out across the backside of his shaft, and he took this opportunity to grab onto the back of your head and shove his throbbing cock into your gaping mouth. He let out a satisfied exhale and his eyes gently rolled back as he relished in the wet warmth you provided for him.

He held your head in place and forced every inch down your throat until you could feel the hem of his shirt tickling your nose. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and he opened the stopwatch function on it. He then placed it into your trembling hand.

"You're gonna hold this for me, you fucking cunt. You're gonna hold it up so I can see it, and we're gonna count together how long you can hold your breath, yeah?" Chris said through gritted teeth before hitting the start button.

Chris' left hand was still tangled in your hair, and with his right hand, he pinched your nose closed between his thumb and pointer finger. "Be a good girl and hold your breath for me," he whispered to you, admiring the way your soft, pretty lips looked keeping his cock warm for him.

"Come on, princess. It's only been fifteen seconds. I know you can keep going since you're so good at holding your breath, right?" He taunted you as he peered down at the tears forming in your eyes.

"Like having your step brother's dick in your mouth? I bet you do. Didn't even put up a fight or nothin', you just let me stick it in," Chris spoke to you in a low, dominant voice that immediately had your pussy drooling for him. "Thirty seconds," Chris relayed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your pretty little mouth and the stopwatch.

"Fuck, it's so nice to have some peace and quiet around here for once. No bitchin', no complainin', no whinin'. Just the sweet sound of you gagging on me," Chris moaned, gently rocking his hips back and forth and relishing in the soft choking noises that came from you, his belt buckle softly clanking against itself.

"See? Now that's what it looks like when you're actually holding your breath. Forty-five seconds," Chris smirked down at you, noting how red your face was getting from lack of air.

He started to fuck your face a little rougher, still cutting off your oxygen flow, the sound of the metal on his belt getting louder. You could feel his tip grazing that spot at the back of your throat, tickling your gag reflex. You could feel his pretty veins with your tongue as it rested on the backside of his length.

"You like having your mouth used by your step brother? I bet you like when I remind you what I am to you, huh? Does it make you wet? How wrong it is?" Chris teased you, thrusting back and forth, his eyes rolling back into his head as several animalistic moans left his mouth.

You didn't want to admit it, but Chris was right. There was something about it that was so taboo that you couldn't help but soak your panties while Chris used you however he wanted. "One minute. You already look like you need air, princess," Chris taunted you, his jaw slacking as he looked down at the tears rolling down your cheeks. "So pretty when you cry for me," he let out a breathy moan while he threw his head back.

Your heart started pounding in you ears, your palms were sweating, and your eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of your head. You did secretly love choking on your step brother's gorgeous cock, but you really couldn't breathe, and you didn't have the lung capacity for this.

You took your free hand, made a fist with it and started pounding on Chris' thigh to let him know you'd had enough. "Admit you lied and that you like this, and I'll let you breathe," Chris cooed, peering down at you and how desperately you gazed up at him.

You were too prideful. Surely, he'd have to let go of your nose regardless of whether you admitted to it or not, right? You pounded on his thigh again.

"All you have to do, princess, is nod your head when I ask you these next few questions, and I'll let go," Chris said to you slowly as if you were dumb. "Did you cheat during our contest and then lie about it?" He inquired, staring down at your makeup streaking down your cheeks. You couldn't take it any longer. You nodded.

"Good answer. Now does it make you wet? How wrong it is to have your step brother's dick in your pretty little mouth?" He asked in a soft, sweet tone, which didn't match the vile words pouring from his pouty lips. Humiliation welled in you, and you looked up at your step brother in shame as you hesitantly nodded your head.

"That's what I thought," Chris whispered, finally letting go of your nose and pulling his meat out of your throat, eliciting several loud gasping and coughing sounds from you before you started violently panting, desperately trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck, I can't believe you liked that. You're so fucked up," Chris whispered, winking down at you and smiling, knowing he liked it just as much. "You know, while I have you here, I may as well have you finish the job, hmm?" He suggested, searching your face for a reaction.

Desperation filled your eyes while you gazed up at him and slowly nodded. You hated the way he had you submitting to him, and so easily, too, but you couldn't help the way it turned you on to think about your step brother busting all over your tongue.

He grabbed the back of your head again and made his cock vanish behind your lips once more. He gripped onto your hair tightly, controlling your movements and causing your mouth to jounce on his meat. His hips began involuntarily thrusting back and forth while he enjoyed the way you graciously took every inch like you were starving for it.

Your tongue danced around on the underside of his shaft, supplementing the sensations he was already giving into. The way you stared up at him with your lips embracing all his sensitive nerve endings made him melt in your mouth, and his eyes started to glaze over. You could tell he was getting close.

"Fuck, you're such a good step sister. Takin' me so fuckin' well," he whispered in a sultry voice, contemptuously smiling at you. You couldn't believe how much you were looking forward to making Chris finish on your tastebuds, and you felt repulsed with yourself for getting so wet at his words. No matter how much you tried to remind yourself what a disgusting, selfish jerk he was, your pussy was drooling for him.

"What would your daddy would think if he knew his little princess were choking on my dick right now while he finishes up at work?" Chris seductictively teased you, feeding your humiliation kink.

You didn't need to use your words to tell Chris how much you liked everything he was saying to you. He could tell by the desperate glint in your eye that lingered as he degraded you.

"Want your step brother to cum on your pretty little tongue?" Chris cooed, his movements becoming more jagged and messy as he fucked your mouth. "You gotta beg for it, princess, or else I won't give it to ya," he snarked back, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

You peered up at him in silence. Of course you wanted to taste his seed as it poured from his tip, but you wanted him to beg you to let him cum, not the other way around.

He roughly pulled you off his cock and leaned down so that his face was only a few inches from yours. "I said beg," he rasped. Fuck, you thought when you realized you'd already lost the power struggle the second you cheated during the breath-holding contest.

Chris wasn't the type to let things go, and he didn't care about cumming if you weren't going to beg him. He'd leave himself unfinished just to spite you. "Please, Chris.." you softly whined while you were on your knees peering up at him, longingly. "Please what?" He inquired, needing to hear you say it.

"Please. I want you to fill up my mouth," you quietly admitted. "Good girl. Say it again. Beg harder," he lustfully stared down at you, hanging onto your every last word, but you thought you'd try one more time to flip the dynamic on him.

"Be a good boy and cum for me," your lips curled into a smug smile, but Chris wasn't the least bit amused. "That's not how this works. You are not domming me right now, fucking bitch," Chris said, taking your hair into his tight grasp again and shaking you around like a doll. "I fucking said beg. And if you misbehave one more time, I'll never let you suck my cock again," he threatened. You hated how effective this was.

"No, no, no. Please. I'm sorry. Please finish on my tongue. Please. I'm dying for it. I need your cum flooding my mouth until it's overflowing. I'd do anything for it," you whined, giving Chris exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck. So easy. Such a good girl for me. How could I not reward such pretty words?" Chris cooed, making his wand disappear behind your pretty lips again like some kind of deranged magic trick.

He rocked his hips back and forth, triggering your gag reflex some more and relishing in the lovely sound of you choking on him. His moans became deeper and more urgent as you took him so well. "Good girl. Get ready for me, princess. I'm so close," Chris breathlessly called out, violently fucking your face while he manipulated the movement of your head, still holding your hair in his tight grip.

His guttural moans echoed throughout the house as his dick throbbed against your lips, emitting a hot, thick, sticky substance onto your eager tongue while he pumped back and forth, savoring every last bit of pleasure. "Good girl. Swallow," he commanded you, smiling down at the way you obediently listened.

"Fuck," he whispered when he was done using your pretty little back-talking mouth. As he tucked his satisfied cock back into his pants, he wiped away a tear that was running down you cheek and softly said, "Now those dishes aren't going to wash themselves, princess."

taglist: @weirdratperson @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova

[wc-confessions]

I’ll do a full breakdown of why the news surrounding the Tencent animation disappoints me.

Disclaimer: while you can have criticisms about Tencent as they seem to be a controversial company, don’t use it as an excuse to be sinophobic. If your thoughts ever go to “well of course a Chinese production would suck” or something of that ilk, please stop right there. The main issues are corporate greed and laziness, not China. Got it? Time to carry on.

Firstly, it strikes me as more of a proof of concept than an actual announcement. It’s the most minor problem IMO, so I’ll let them off the hook. They probably wanted to make sure people knew it was being worked on.

Secondly, AI. Warrior Cats is an art-centric community; it’s no wonder fans are pissed. I don’t like AI art, you - a (probable) Warriors fan reading this - likely don’t like AI art, your father doesn’t like AI art, everyone here doesn’t like AI art. Which means I’m going to argue on a more technical side. Looking at the confirmed and possible AI art, I have a question. What do they achieve? They don’t fit with the style of the hand-drawn illustrations, they resemble galaxy cats in space, while that Yellowfang generation is just a bootleg of the reprinted Rising Storm cover. Their existence in the presentation is a waste of time and resources (literally, AI prompts use up absurd amounts of water). I’d rather them show exclusively human art because you can tell they’re going in a direction, even if it’s uninteresting.

Speaking of the presumably human art, oh boy. To start off mildly positive, I’ll say a majority of the illustrations are decent. You get some character designs and scene concepts. They’re clearly playing with art style. I don’t find them particularly ugly, so… good job! I suppose! Now, to address the elephant in the room: anthro cats. For the love of StarClan, I’m begging on my knees, don’t make these cats anthro in the final product. It would fundamentally break the entire series. They call humans “twolegs” for a reason! Go work on the Redwall movie if you want anthro animals.

Finally, my last concern. As of writing, there hasn’t been confirmation of the Tencent animation being a movie, TV show, or other. My opinion on a TV show is “it’s fine.” Warrior Cats is a long series, making it suitable that it gets a longer adaptation. Meanwhile, my hope for a Warriors movie is as big as a single grain of sand. 

Warrior Cats is borderline unadaptable when it comes to shorter-form media unless you want to dish out a pretty penny. We can already see this with the Prophecies Begin graphic novel; it’s transparent HarperCollins or whoever is in charge of these things didn’t want to pay for six TPB comics, so they had to hastily mash two books together in one. If the Tencent animation is a movie, I’m afraid some concepts already have signs of this. Multiple pieces have what can be assumed to be Fireheart and Tigerclaw fighting. I’m sorry, but that happens later in the books. Are they going to scramble the narrative worse than the graphic novel adaptation? Are we seriously going to wait 20+ years for an official animation, watch at least one high-profile fan project get canned, only for it to be about as accurate as evil snipers in an action movie? If it’s not a movie, ignore what I’ve said. If it is a movie, sigh.

TL;DR: Should’ve made the Little Dragon Studios series official instead of forcing them to cancel, guys.

.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

Part One!

Words: 650~

TW: None (sfw)

Ghosts Headcanons are the least numerous, but they are the wordiest, so there's that.

Enjoy!

Ghost has like a six step morning skin routine and a fourteen step nightly skin routine. When he first started wearing the mask he wasn't in the right headspace to be taking care of himself. He didn't wash it or himself nearly as much as he should have and his skin SUFFERED for it. He hadn't had that many skin issues when he was in puberty. | The skin routines started with just an acne cleanser he remembered an old ex-girlfriend used to swear by, then a moisturizer because he has naturally dry skin and it was starting to get irritated rubbing against his mask all day, then he sorta just fell down the rabbit-hole when he tried to research good products to use and wound up with his long-ass skin routine.  | He honestly likes getting to have time to wake up in the mornings and wind-down in the evenings as he does his routine. If his thoughts aren't being friendly he'll pop on some music, or an audiobook.

Ghost is one of those freaks that will be working his way through up to five books at a time. This is because he uses books locationally. He has his audiobook, and the book next to his bed, and the book in the breakroom, and the book he keeps in his duffle, and the book he brings on transports, the book he keeps in Price's office, and etc. He just picks up the book that's in the same location he is, flips back a few pages to remember what's going on, then just keeps on reading. He's been asked how he keeps all the plots straight and he vagues his way through answering, but the truth is he doesn't. | How this happened is that he kept getting caught in situations where he'd have a few spare moments and he'd want to read, but he didn't have a book. He tried bringing a book with him, but he was constantly putting it down and forgetting where he'd left it. Wearing a bookbag isn't tactical. So having locational books is his solution. 

Price gets him those cheap mass produced paperbacks that are about the third of the size of a normal book and Ghost loves them. They fit into his pockets or into pouches on his plate carrier, and he can bring them around with him no problem. 

His nose was broken and wasn't set, later it was rebroken to heal properly, but the damage was done. He now snores and sputters in his sleep like an old hand-crank car. Unless he sleeps in the perfect position or he uses nasal strips.  | If he has to sleep on a mission he uses nasal strips. It's a bit embarrassing, but he's reassured by the fact his mask covers it, so no-one can actually see how dumb it looks. Snoring so loud you alert the enemy isn't keeping it tactical. 

He is the friend that carries extra snacks and water-bottles with him because he knows somebody is gonna forget theirs. He’s also memorized everyone’s schedules and how they all overlap. He uses this knowledge for both good and evil.

He insists that everyone messages when they're leaving and when they're headed back and when they're home safe.  | Price is the worst at remembering to message, the Captain has awoken many times to a disapproving Ghost standing over his bed, “You didn't text”. Gaz almost lost his life when Ghost found out that he just guesses how long it'll take and schedules his messages to auto-send. Soap always remembers. He's texting Ghost in his every free moment anyway, so it'd be harder for him to forget than to not to.

Thank You For Reading!

If you have any ideas or prompts that you want to see me write please let me know!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[gravityglitch-blog]

My contribution to @beauty-beast-week, organized by @firawren, for Day 3.

The prompt was Lavender (relaxation, sleep, baths, summer, scents...)

I imagine this taking place in the movie's timeline, between the "Human Again" sequence and the famous waltz.

INK AND MOONLIGHT

Be careful what you wish for, Belle thought to herself as she idly drew patterns in the frost on the library window panes.

All her life, she had felt different. She'd never considered herself better or worse than anyone else. She was simply...apart.

While everyone around her was down to earth, she was an incurable dreamer. Her mother had been like that, according to her faded memory. Her father, too. She'd spent most of her life sighing over the pages of fairy tales and wishing something fantastical would happen in her own life.

It didn't get much more fantastical than life with a mythic beast in an enchanted castle filled with living, breathing housewares.

How long had she been here now? A few weeks? A few months? Magic had a way of playing with your sense of time.

She sat curled up in a corner of one of the massive library's many window seats. At her back, flames cheerfully crackled in the fireplace, keeping her warm this winter's night and providing a soft glow to read by. She took another sip of the lavender tea Mrs. Potts had been so kind to provide and tried again to focus on the book in her hands. Normally this was no trouble. But tonight, she was distracted by thoughts of the dreams she'd been having.

It was the same dream, every night since she'd been in the castle. She was lost in a beautiful, unfamiliar forest. It was silent as death, and equally endless. She'd start out walking, then running in search of a path, anything to lead her out of there.

And then the man would appear before her.

She could never make out much about him.

His figure was always blurred, like she were trying to see him through a veil of water. She could make out a few details. Tall. Copper hair. The only thing really clear about him were his eyes, the purest blue she'd ever seen.

Her dream self would always ask, "Who are you? Can you help me?"

"I would give anything to tell you who I am," the man would reply, his voice soft and sad. "But I can only help you back to the castle."

She would pull away. "I don't want to go back there. I want to go home."

"I know," the stranger would say. "And I know you have no reason to trust me. But please believe when I say, you have nothing to fear from the castle or anyone in it."

Then he would hold out his hand to her.

She always wanted to ask more questions.

But somehow, in that one heartbeat, her fears would calm. She would reach out...and she would wake up.

It wasn't even enough to call a nightmare, but it left her unsettled all the same.

She wrapped her hands around her teacup to better absorb its warmth. Belle giggled lightly as she felt the teacup snoring against her palms. At least someone was getting a good night's sleep.

A flicker of shadow caught the edge of her vision. She looked up and saw Beast in one of the archways leading to another book-filled chamber. Though her fear of him had mostly dissolved after that night he'd rescued her from the wolves, she still found him a paradox.

There was strength and power in every line of him, and he could move through this castle quick and noiseless as the shadows themselves. Right now, he looked like a child who had been caught staying up past his bedtime.

"You can't sleep, either?" she asked.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," his deep voice rumbled.

"You're not," Belle assured him. "It gets so quiet around here at night, I...I'd be glad of the company for awhile, if you don't mind."

He nodded, and she thought she glimpsed a shy smile, but his expressions were often difficult to read. He took up the other corner of the window seat, farthest from her. He gazed out the window at the gently falling snow, seeming hesitant to look at her. The silence was broken only by the quiet sound of his breath and her heartbeat. Belle studied his reflection in the glass, the only way she felt she could safely look at him for more than a few moments without being rude. She'd been terrified of him at first sight, she had to admit. The setting and circumstances hadn't helped, her father locked in a dungeon while she bargained for his freedom. Later, when she'd tried to escape and run right into the jaws of the wolf pack, she'd witnessed the sheer ferocity and wildness he kept contained. Looking at him now...there was a strange grace about him. She could imagine him as a creature of myth, an otherworldly guardian of some secret or forbidden world. Belle gave herself a mental shake. No wonder the people back home called her a funny girl.

"What are you reading?" Beast asked finally.

In answer, she held out the book to him. Carefully he took it from her and leafed through a few pages. One heavy eyebrow went up. "Vampires? Are you trying to give yourself nightmares?"

Belle shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed. "What can I say? I've always found stories of the night fascinating."

He gave a rough snort, his version of a laugh. "No wonder you fit right in here."

She tilted her head. "How do you mean?"

"Can you really not feel it? The magic of this place embraces you like it's been waiting for you all its life."

Unsure what to say to that, she smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her soft purple dress. Hoping to smooth out the awkward silence as well, she smiled gently at him. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

She gestured at the caverns of books around them. "You're in here nearly as often as I am. What are your favorite kind of stories?"

He turned to look at her then, and this time she was certain of the smile. "You were the one that reminded me how much I enjoy reading. After so long, I'd nearly forgotten how. I don't think I've even thanked you yet for helping me remember."

"You don't have to thank me. I was happy to do it."

He nodded once, then returned to her question. "When I was young, it was adventure stories. Pirates and treasure hunting."

Belle's smile grew wider, her mind conjuring the image of a miniature Beast embarking on imaginary quests across the high seas. "And what about now?"

He drew in a deep breath, as if gathering up his courage. "Would you like to hear it?"

"You want to read to me?"

"It's the least I can do, after you brought it back to me."

"I'd love to hear it!"

He glided over to a shelf nearby and pulled out a green leather-bound volume, more worn-looking than the others in the library. He rested the book on the windowsill, now kneeling on the seat so he could open the book for her. Belle gasped as the pages spread out to reveal a map of the sky, constellations lovingly drawn and named in delicate strokes of ink. Most stunning of all were the illustrations in the center, the sun and moon frozen in a celestial dance. She gently set her sleeping teacup back on his tray, tucking a napkin around him like a blanket, so she could give her full attention to Beast and his story. Taking only the very edge of the page between his claws, he turned to the beginning of the story. Here the ink spun into an icy landscape, not unlike the scene outside their window. The sky in this picture had been replaced by delicately scrawled words. In his low, soft baritone, he began to read.

"Once upon a time there was a poor husbandman who had many children and little to give them in the way either of food or clothing. They were all pretty, but the prettiest of all was the youngest daughter, who was so beautiful that there were no bounds to her beauty."

She thought he glanced at her here, but surely it was her imagination.

Stop being silly, she chided herself.

"So once", he continued, "it was late on a Thursday evening in autumn, and wild weather outside, terribly dark, and raining so heavily and blowing so hard that the walls of the cottage shook again--they were all sitting together by the fireside, when suddenly some one rapped three times against the window-pane."

So went the story of a girl swept away from her mundane world on the back of a white bear, who was truly a prince in disguise, her true love. They were parted by a mistake realized too late. But so strong was their love, that the girl was undaunted, riding the Four Winds until she could rescue her prince.

Belle wanted so desperately to hear the ending. But the lavender tea was working its' magic, and Beast's voice and presence was so warm, that she fell asleep upon her folded arms.

___

Beast heard her first snore before he could read out happily ever after. He suppressed a laugh with all his strength. She had an adorable snore. Moving quietly, he put the book back in its place. Now he faced a dilemma. He didn't want to wake Belle, but he couldn't exactly leave her here, either. Praying that this wouldn't be pushing their newborn friendship too far, he carefully gathered her into his arms until he was carrying her bridal-style. His heart almost stopped when she stirred, but she only pushed her face further into his broad shoulder. "Warm," she mumbled dreamily.

He would have given anything to live in that moment forever. But time never stops, not even within the walls of an enchanted castle.

Beast glided out of the library and up the stairs to Belle's room. He could already hear whispers from a few insomniac servants. There'd be gossip among them by morning. The door to Belle's room kindly (and silently) opened itself for them. He delicately laid her down on her bed. He thought that she clung to his shirt for a moment before settling onto her pillows, but of course that had to be his imagination.

Don't be stupid, he scolded himself.

He pulled the blankets over her, and allowed himself the indulgence of brushing a rogue lock of hair away from her eyes. He made it to her doorway before looking back at her once more. "Sweet dreams, my princess."

He knew he had no right to call her this.

She might never return his feelings. 

Even if she did, a free spirit like Belle would never be owned by anyone, and that was part of what he loved about her.

But he couldn't help it. To him, she was a princess, no matter what happened next.

He softly closed the door and left her to her dreaming.

And dream she did. But this time, instead of the endless ominous forest, Belle dreamt of ink and moonlight and a gentle thundercloud weaving stories at her shoulder.

[heavensincarnate1111]

WRATH OF THE TRIPLE GODDESS DROPS IN A MONTH IM SO PUMPEDDD

[acourtofquestions]

I need to make more Tower of Dawn posts because this book is better than I thought (and I went in with decent expectations)

but for right now I just need to cry scream for a second because THE CHARACTER ARCS AND DEVELOPMENT just perfection utterly beautiful and I love every single one so much I get all teared up every dang time

especially right now what’s getting me; which is Chaol finally understanding Aelin, and talking about her, and Rowan. And THEN with Yrene. AND THEN then their ship speech! AND AND AND THEN her talking about Aelin and not even knowing it & them both thanking her (they gonna help get our girl home I just know it and that reunion realization is gonna be so worth it) !

my wyrd how is ALL of this so beautifully written??

[mimi-croissant]

These are my children and they’ve been plaguing my mind since I read this book

[hella1975]

i need to know your thoughts on the sunshine court coming out this month. i am personally unhealthily obsessed w denim jean moreau and i’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure to finally get real jeremy knox/jean moreau content (it’ll also get rid of those weirdos that ship jean w renee like sir that is a lesbian)

i am being so so so brave about new content i am not scared fear is the mind killer

[anonyanonymouse]

I need a minute. to process the update

[sophieswundergarten]

Rhonda Kazembe

[gamesucks]

i swear this musical was the worst thing that could have possibly happened . every time i go in the tag its just about the musical or girlbloggers

[yardikins]

Art style experiment using my favorite two halves of a whole idiot : A.Z. Kimrean

[technicalknockout]

YOU ALSO LIKE THE HTTYD BOOKS??? HELL YES. i have. been losing it over hiccup the second for. hours. and how hes the whole reason the story of the httyd books YET DOESNT EVEN FUCKING APPEAR ONCE IN THE HTTYD MOVIES. theres no hiccup the second equivalent. what the fuck. i could fit them in so easily. make them background context for why the majority of the archepeliago is hostile with dragons. hiccup the seconds death happened and the whole dragon rebellion happened very far ago leading to this sort of hostility but it was so long ago nobody really remembers and hiccup the second is vaguely remembered but nothing important about him actually is. furious doesnt even need to still be alive for this to work. hiccup the second. hautning the narrative. i like him

Ok first off. AHHHHHHH YES YES YES HELLO FELLOW HICCUP THE SECOND STAN!!!!! i actually watched the movie first and then the book so i was like "wow cool" on the first watch but Oh my god i would be so lying if i said i never once wished for a hiccup the second in the movies. Like i KNOW the movies are basically like a whole different thing from the books after the first one but?? BUT???? Idk im very biased i love the guy. Ik you pointed this out but he really is the reason for literally everything in the books if you care enough to look into it and i really do think him being some sort of background lore in the movies would be so cool.. *digging thru the httyd ao3 tags*

incidentally if you ask me to choose between the movies and the books i would say the books in a heartbeat. i love the movies it's one of my favorites but a) the books made me cry harder b) theres no hiccup the second OR hiccup the first c) the book lore is absolutely golden and ive never seen anything else top it and d) the movies overwrote fishlegs into almost non-existance which. HELLO?? EXCUSE ME???????

[smile-files]

the murder mystery i'm reading has a character whom i can instantly clock as autistic. yay! i have no reason to think he'll be the murderer but i'll be very angry if he is

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Hes so silly and we love him for it