#i only joined like half way into the year

[toomanyfanficsbruh]

@theroundbartable here you gooooo!

I went kinda slightly sideways with the prompt, hope you like it!

Swept Away (Feather Dusters & Dust Mites)

"If I hear of you cleaning your own chain mail, shining your own boots, washing your own laundry, OR ANYONE ELSE'S…I can assure you, that you will regret it."

Cleanliness, as a standard, was something that brought about Arthur’s demise. It was not being clean that was an issue for him, it was that, there is nothing to do, if it is.

An important thing to commit to memory about Arthur Pendragon, is that he is stressed. At any moment in time, he is stressing. Emotionally tired, physically strained and mentally unable to deal with the adrenaline that is a constant in his position as King, once being Prince, or just being related to a line of Pendragons.

Unfortunately for him, amongst all that, he loves to clean. To let the strain seep out of his muscles and tendons, he mops floors, joins Mary in the kitchen to make bread, sharpening his swords and so on. In any other circumstance, it would be a wonderful thing - but Arthur is not in another circumstance, instead he was raised by the Great King Uther Pendragon of Camelot.

When his father was still physically breathing down his back, every time Arthur opened the wardrobe to a pile of messy clothes, reaching out to begin folding them, he tensed up. If his father found out, he would be forced into the room in the Western Wing, tidied so well that you could eat off the floors, kept there without anything to do, buried in tension. Or at least until he promised not to do so again. And without doubt, knowing he would end up back there in no time.

Even with his allergies, Arthur was fond of dusting. After learning of the particles with Gaius as a young boy, Arthur would stare at the dust on his windows for days, noting down the movements and sizes. He found wonder in the particles built up around him, reminding him the world was far greater than he had known. He would dust and sneeze, dust and sneeze, repeating this until Uther found out. His father had broken his feather duster, lovingly given by a maid who cared for him, and placed a sword in his hand, pulling him back into a reality he tried so hard to run from. Remind him that he was to be King, not a servant.

Then there was Merlin. In ways related to tidiness, it seemed to make more sense for the two of them to switch positions as manservant and regent. Merlin, in all his ways of wonder, did not seem to do anything properly. Especially so, when they first met, all those years ago - Arthur would walk into his room with clothes everywhere, half-shined armour and unstacked plates of finished food. It was a double-edged sword, Arthur was constantly on edge as he could not lift a hand, but was also calmed, that maybe he wasn't the only one who did not follow the expected standards in a social hierarchy.

It was only so for about four months. Then Arthur started telling Merlin how the castle expected him to work, so that he would not be fired in the long run. Slowly after that, Merlin almost cleaned as Arthur did, not as a chore, but as something else. Unbeknownst to Arthur, Merlin found cleaning exactly how he did - a stress reliever from his newly reigned powers as a warlock.

It brought about laughter and inside jokes, a fresh room and a little speck of freedom for the two of them. It was a surprise, that a clean room could lead to much more.

But even as this happened, Arthur still felt an itch, a need to straighten the pillows, rinse his cutlery, dust that one corner of the cupboard that Merlin wasn't aware of. He couldn't, but he wanted to.

Following this chain of events, one day Uther had been called to meet with another King past their own land. Arthur was told his father would not be back for twelve days and to make sure he didn't make any stupid decisions that would lead to Camelot burning. Uther held his son to a high standard.

Three days after Uther had left, Merlin had fallen sick. He had contracted some form of a fever, heightened by his lack of sleep and hydration. Arthur found himself stressed once again. More stressed than he had been the last few times, but tense nonetheless.

He did not know what to do. He paced the throne room, rode his horse, threw a few spears, launched a few arrows. He tried desperately to keep himself busy, not to overthink, not to walk into a room that had been cleaned up George. It was torture.

Arthur was not allowed to see Merlin either, which made matters much worse. Gaius had Merlin in his room, hidden from people and Arthur (because Arthur isn't people, he's Arthur, Merlin's destiny). Arthur tried sneaking into Merlin’s room and was caught every single time he tried. (Eight)

On the second day of Merlin’s sickness, Arthur had a feather duster placed into his hands by a tired Leon, telling the Crown Prince to "stop fidgeting and just start cleaning" if he needed to.

Arthur definitely needed to. Slowly starting with his own room, Arthur dusted his windows, his bed, the little crooks that Merlin always seemed to forget. Arthur made way from one side of his room to the other, straightening the table, folding clothes and even asked for a mop and bucket because the floors were apparently not clean enough.

It was truly a surprise how Arthur managed to complete his duties without the tension relief of cleaning.

On the third day of Merlin’s sickness, Arthur had made his way through half of the castle, starting from the second level (which consisted of his, Uther's and Morgana's rooms), mopping, dusting and sweeping through the worries. He walked straight into the infirmary and began rearranging the texts that lay on the ground, alphabetically (a surprise really, that Arthur knew the alphabet), asked Gaius if he needed more shelves and proceeded to make some that afternoon anyway.

He was a third of the way through mopping the floors when the servants started whispering - the Crown Prince? Cleaning?

Some servants were concerned, assuming Arthur was possessed. Some servant were shocked, the floors were basically glittering, reflecting their faces. While some servants decided to lay back and let the Prince de-stress and gave themselves a day off. Overall, none of them could believe that Arthur was doing this willingly.

On the fourth and final day of Merlin's sickness, Arthur had come across the magical contents of the books in his room. He didn't mean to. Gaius had been out for some herbs and to attend some people, when Arthur was putting the shelves in the infirmary.

He had heard Merlin call out for him, heated by his fever, Arthur took a cold cloth to Merlin’s head and noticed the gorgeously bound book that lay underneath the bed. After picking it up and inspecting it, he found the spells and enchantments that Merlin had desperately tried to hide since stepping into Camelot.

Arthur took no care of it and decided that when Merlin wanted to tell him, he would. And Arthur would listen. After all, one does not clean the entirety of the castle for just a servant.

Now, after those few days of Arthur's stress filled cleaning, he allowed himself to dust his own room, as King. Mop his own floors and fold his own clothes, without a single person questioning him.

Sometimes, Merlin would join, laughing at him for even having a servant, since Arthur could dress himself and clean his own armour, but let him complete the tasks anyway, knowing how he thought. The Court Sorcerer would even sometimes knock a bucket over or mess the King’s clothes, just to give him another task that wasn't related to a battle or crop fields.

Arthur allowed himself to clean, to dust, to bake and cook but distanced himself from one thing. He would have anyone else in the castle, clean his father's portrait that was hung in the meeting room. In a way, he allowed his father one last moment of peace, without ruining his own. In this time, it was not his father's rule that mattered, but the Great King of Albion, Arthur Pendragon, who's peace ensured that the people of his lands were at peace too.

And after years of having peace and hope, just out of his grasp, Arthur knew their value and would not give it up for the world.

[theladyofshalott1989]

"Girls' Night Out" (An HCU One-Shot)

Summary: Matty has organized a Girls' Night Out, and, as an honorary "girlie," Damien, of course, received an invitation. When Sebastian finds out he's been left off the guest list ("NO SEBASTIANS ALLOWED!"), Damien and Sebastian devise a clever plan to sneak him in. Because, well, that's just what they do.

Word Count: 1,521

Matty had invited all the seventh-year girls to what she called a "Girls’ Night Out," scheduled for a month and a few days from now. With everyone deep in their studies for their impending NEWTs, Damien figured Matty thought it would be the perfect way to offer them a much-needed break. Matty was usually right. Damien was included in the invite, of course, because he was an honorary “girlie,” at least according to Matty’s invitation, which was immaculate and beautifully designed—typical of her, really. Damien had always considered Matty practically perfect in every way. Alvin must have thought so too—or at least Damien hoped—considering the two had been inseparable for the past few months. He made a mental note to check in with Alvin, maybe even nudge him to do something romantic for her every now and then, just to be sure. Damien always looked out for his girl friends. 

“What’s this?” Sebastian plucked the invitation from Damien’s outstretched hand. 

“That’s mine!” Damien lunged forward to grab the parchment back but Sebastian darted to the side, laughing. He sprinted to the far end of the Undercroft, Damien on his tail, holding the paper out of reach as his eyes quickly scanned its contents.

“No Sebastians allowed,” he muttered under his breath. “No Sebastians allowed?” The second time was much louder. Damien even had to clap his hands over his ears.

“What did you expect, Bash? You’re not a girl!”

“Neither are you, unless you’ve somehow managed to hide that from me for the past two years.” He raised an unruly eyebrow. “Not that I would mind…” he added, trailing off, likely lost in thought, imagining just what that might entail. 

Damien, who had stomped back to Sebastian’s side, snatched the parchment from Sebastian’s hands with a flourish. He huffed prettily, batting his eyelashes. “You wish.”

Sebastian blinked, visibly thrown, and swallowed like he was trying to regain his composure. 

A triumphant chuckle slipped from Damien’s lips. He loved these moments—when he could rattle Sebastian just enough to steal an unguarded reaction.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “So, how are you going to disguise me so I can join in on the festivities?” How, indeed. 

“Is anyone hungry?” Tori asked, pulling an entire pastry out of her robe pocket. 

"Always!" Damien said. He swiped the offered pastry from her hand and promptly stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. "Thanks, Tori," he mumbled through a mouthful, grinning cheekily as he chewed.

Natty, standing beside him, didn’t seem the least bit fazed by his lack of manners. Damien gave Natty a side-long glance, narrowing his eyes. 

She quickly corrected herself. “Damien! Manners!” Hopefully her delayed reaction wasn’t too suspicious. 

Because Natty, obviously, wasn’t herself. Because Natty was Sebastian. 

Luckily, Sebastian and Damien had just enough time to brew a Polyjuice Potion before the big event. Getting a hair from Natty had been easy enough, since Damien shared half his classes with her, and—naturally—Damien and Natty were best friends. Unfortunately, Damien wasn’t the sneakiest of lads, and she’d caught on to his plan almost immediately. After a hurried explanation and a bit of his trademark persuasion, Natty gave him permission since she couldn’t attend Girls' Night Out herself. Provided, of course, that Damien promised to fill her in on every detail later. He readily agreed.

“I miss Alvin,” Matty said next, startling Damien out of his rumination. 

“You literally just said goodbye to him,” Cassie said, scowling. “Anyway, you were the one that made this a girls-only event.” 

Matty sighed. “I know, I know. Don’t you miss Alex?” Cassie shrugged. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Right, Damien?” She winked.

“Right,” Damien agreed, not looking her in the eye. Natty-Sebastian clapped a hand to her mouth, failing to stifle a laugh.

Cassie, thankfully, didn’t pay Natty’s slip up any mind. “Anyway,” she continued, “Alex and I had an argument this morning and I needed a break from him.” "Oh no, Cassie!" Jo chimed in, grabbing Cassie’s arm and linking it with her own. "I’m sure everything will be fine. What did you argue about?"

Cassie rolled her eyes. "He won’t stop haggling when we shop together. He insists on trying to negotiate everything!"

Jo snorted. 

“How industrious of him,” Natty-Sebastian piped in from beside Damien. “I’d consider that a good thing, wouldn’t you, Damien?” 

Damien mumbled something non-committal, trying to steer Sebastian away from drawing attention to himself, then quickly changed the subject. "So! Val!” He clapped his hands together. “How are you and Cal doing? Still completely head over heels for each other?"

Val, leading the pack, her round glasses catching the soft glow of the purple-pink sunset ahead, swiveled around. “Yes, of course!” she squeaked. 

Well, that was certainly suspicious. Damien sighed. “Is everyone fighting with their significant other?” 

“Not me!” Matty said from behind him. Damien should have amended his question. Matty and Alvin never argued. 

“And you’re not fighting with Sebastian,” Natty-Sebastian said. “At least not that I’m aware of,” she added, smirking. Natty never smirked. Everyone stopped walking to stare. Tori’s jaw dropped. 

“Natty,” Ellie and Alyn said in unison, “Are you alright?” They didn’t wait for her to respond, exchanging a surprised glance when they realized they’d asked the same question at the exact same moment.

Natty-Sebastian schooled her expression. “Oh, erm, yes. I’m just excited to be here with you all. It’s usually just me and Damien. Or, erm, me, off on my own exploring.”

“We’re so happy to have you here!” Jo exclaimed, an exuberant smile gracing her beautiful face. She released her arm from Cassie, and embraced Natty-Sebastian. Natty-Sebastian tensed. Ellie, ever observant, noticed. “Why so tense, Natty?” she asked, raising a perfectly contoured eyebrow.

“Erm, uh,” Natty-Sebastian glanced at Damien, floundering, “no reason?”

Damien brought a hand to his forehead. “That’s on me, everyone,” he said, scrambling to come up with an excuse. “Natty and I were playing Summoner’s Court all day because Professor Ronen challenged me to a match next week. I needed practice. She’s just sore. That’s all.”

All the girls nodded.

“How kind of you, Natty,” Alyn said, patting Natty-Sebastian on the shoulder gently. 

Everyone resumed walking and broke back out into scattered conversation. 

Phew, that was a close call. Damien was grateful he could see the Three Broomsticks slightly ahead. Once they all had some Butterbeer in them, he hoped that it would be easier to keep Sebastian’s presence under wraps. 

Boy, oh boy, was Damien mistaken. 

It turned out the boys had decided to drown their uninvited woes at Sirona’s fine establishment. So, what Matty had originally intended to be a girls-only night quickly turned into a gathering for everyone after all.

“Another!” Jaimsen shouted, slamming his empty glass on the counter.

“Another!” Natty-Sebastian echoed, mimicking his motion—but more clumsily. In her enthusiasm, Natty-Sebastian sent her glass tumbling to the floor. A loud crash followed. 

Sirona shouted, “Watch it!” from across the counter as she served another customer. Natty-Sebastian dropped down, picking her glass back up with a sheepish look on her face. She was very obviously drunk. 

Damien groaned and dropped his head into his hands. 

Alyn, who was sitting to his left, laughed. “Are you sure Natty’s alright?”

Ellie tugged at a stray strand of hair as she nodded. “She’s sure acting more…uninhibited than usual.”

“Perhaps she’s been working herself too hard,” Damien tried. “We’re all studying tirelessly, after all.”

“Not me!” Cal interrupted, raking a hand through his hair with his usual cavalier charm, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Not you,” Ale agreed from further down the counter. “Obviously not you,” he spat out, then took another chug of Butterbeer. 

“Whoa, what’s with the attitude?” Natty-Sebastian said, alighting at Damien’s side, holding yet another full glass of Butterbeer. “How many have you had?” Damien said, holding back a long-suffering sigh.

“That’s for me to know and you to…uh…not know,” Natty-Sebastian replied. 

The group had gone totally silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“Something’s not right,” Theo said from beside Tori. Tori abruptly stopped sorting a pile of sweets she had on the counter in front of her. 

“I agree,” she added. “Natty, were you experimenting with any new potions today? One time Poppy accidentally inhaled a drop of Amortentia in class and acted besotted with me all day.”

Florence, who had kept to himself most of the night thus far, laughed. “Poppy’s always besotted with you, Tori. What’s new?” 

Jaimsen gave Florence a high-five, then pecked him—rather adorably—on the cheek. “Oh, are we kissing now?” Natty-Sebastian suddenly said. Then, before Damien could get a word in edgewise, launched herself forward and planted a big, wet kiss on Damien’s lips. 

Damien recoiled, shouting out and tumbling backward off of his stool.

The entire group erupted in shouts of shock and disbelief. Jo, wide-eyed, even yelled, “Merlin’s arse!” which was extremely uncharacteristic of her.

“Oops,” Natty-Sebastian muttered under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. Damien glared up at her from the floor.

“Sebastian Sallow!” Damien growled, giving up the act entirely.

“I knew it!” Matty exclaimed, her grin wide and knowing.

Of course she did.

MCs Mentioned:

Damien (and his Sebastian, aka "Bash") are mine 🤭 

Matty, Theo, and Cal @girl-named-matty

Tori @espressoristretto-patronum

Cassie, Alvin and Alex @acslytherpuff

Jo @ravenwind-75

Val and Ale @savingsallow

Ellie @accio-bagel

Alyn @ps-cactus

Jaimsen and Florence @leaping-toadstool-caps

Thank you to everyone for allowing me to borrow their MCs. This was a blast to write! :)

[corseque]

I call this cadence a “song” because it makes me think of the Cole banter about Solas - “he hurts, an old pain from before, when everything sang the same.”

Is this cadence really how the ancient elves used to speak to each other? For example, all of the mural memories are in this Hallelujah cadence, and Elgar’nan, Ghilan’nain and Mythal are all perfectly in the cadence when they speak:

A very telling detail to me in this cadence is the memory with Elgar’nan and Mythal so on the same page, so of perfect accord and of the same mind, that they are finishing each other’s lines.

In that memory, Solas is relegated to his own private segments that neither of the others join. He is exiled within his own Hallelujah cadence.

It is also interesting to note that Solas and Mythal never share this entwining that Mythal and Elgar’nan have. (The only times Mythal shares Solas’ line is to interrupt him with “Impossible,” and the moment they are apologizing while he kills her.)

Now, maybe this cadence is not an Ancient Elf Spirit Thing, and the cadence appears this way because it is filtered through Solas’ memories. After all, he painted these.

(And also, characters like Felassan do not speak in this cadence even once. So it’s not how all Ancient elves spoke all the time.)

But there is the use of Hallelujah between Solas, Mythal and Lavellan during Solas’ finale scene, and also one more example that makes me think the ancient elves may have at least occasionally spoke like this, and that this way of speaking, this song, is something that Solas is longing to hear again:

It’s this - it’s also in Solas’ conversation with Elgar’nan!

Solas is mocking Elgar’nan for being so blighted and corrupted, he can no longer speak in Hallelujah cadence. Solas seems to equate the cadence to “speaking elven,” speaking the language they should both speak. And I checked, neither Elgar’nan nor Ghilan’nain speak this way in dialogue.

So, it leaves me with this image of Solas as the last of his kind. Everyone who spoke his language is dead. The blighted monsters and ghosts can no longer hear or understand the music, they can no longer speak elven.

But Lavellan, half a world away, DOES.

Lavellan speaks this lost language of the gods.

Solas’ heart speaks Solas’ language. She has thought of Solas for so many years, she has endured her trials, and she has come to understand him even more than she had before. She has somehow, knowing the truth, become even closer to him, able to see both the good and the bad with open eyes.

Lavellan knows how to speak in elven, she can hear the hidden, mysterious currents that he can. Lavellan is his still-living family, his heart, the other part of the duet that Solas so clearly longs for.

Finally, at the end of the story, Lavellan is the one who pronounces, in elven, the final Hallelujah with Solas, when they have both finally passed their long trials, just before they marry and step together into the land of the gods, a duet in perfect accord.

One part I really enjoyed was realizing Solas and Lavellan each get to express their feelings and regrets about each other in two verses of Hallelujah before the end of the game.

This was always the cadence that Solas slipped into whenever he remembered something ancient that affected him in the Fade. In Inquisition, Lavellan only joined this cadence occasionally, when on the same page as Solas in conversation.

10 years later, not only is Lavellan mildly on the same page as Solas - now she has somehow fully and completely on the same page as him. Lavellan has become closer to Solas, after thinking of him so long. She is now “singing” the same song that he sang, fluently, in full verses. Lavellan has one foot in the world he loves, the world he had to leave behind, the world he longs for. The world she is fully prepared to enter with him, because she can speak his language and sing the song fluently.

[halfagone]

I posted 1,050 times in 2022

That's 1,050 more posts than 2021!

98 posts created (9%)

952 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ocearnawrites

@gilbirda

@floralflowerpower

@captain-krow-drozdov

@impyssadobsessions

I tagged 1,007 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#danny phantom - 461 posts

#dp x dc - 298 posts

#dc - 199 posts

#batman - 81 posts

#jason todd - 59 posts

#danny phantom fanfiction - 56 posts

#batfam - 55 posts

#xdd - 44 posts

#bruce wayne - 43 posts

#relatable - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 122 characters

#i hate relating to all the adhd posts so much just as im about to decide you know what maybe i imagined it maybe im normal

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

From Chapter 43 of lex luthor's ascent

Death Record Institutes or Facilities:

Essentially, these places record the deaths of every person who has ever died, and they include facts such as any possible Taboos they might have committed or any other major mortal crimes. Theft and robbery would not count; assault and murder would. Even if you got away with such crimes in life, they have branded you in death.

These places also mark whether the dead had become a spirit or a ghost. All of this is for multiple reasons. 1) People who had died earlier than the rest of their family or friends could check in at a later time to find out if their loved ones are still alive or have passed on. 2) If serious accusations come about between two spirits who had known each other in life, you have irrevocable proof.

Ghosts can change their names in death, and sometimes they might even forget about their past. You cannot change these records, however. But… this also means if one were to possibly fake their death… they would not show up in a Death Record Institute. Which... might come into play in another fic later on.

I don't know that much about Death Note, but I guess? this is a bit inspired by that? I'm not entirely sure, but I though I ought to give it credit just in case.

If you like the idea, feel free to include it in your own fics! Eventually, I'll get to show what it actually looks like or how it actually functions, but for now, I thought I'd name drop it and see the reactions. Who knows, I might just get inspiration from you all too.

This is first included in chapter 43 of lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood. This post is subject to change assuming further chapters and storylines include this subject matter.

122 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

#4

What would Danny do for work?

I have a quick question to my fellow Danny Phantom fans... When you imagine Danny picking a career/job, what do you headcanon for him? And this is if he can't- for whatever reason- be an astronaut. This is a hypothetical question, it's not- like, going to affect any of my stories in the future or anything *chuckles nervously*

For me, it's always depended on the headcanon I choose for any particular story/AU. But that gets complicated when I have multiple headcanons that could offer opportunities for him.

For example:

Astrophysicist/Aerospace Engineer - He can't be an astronaut, but that doesn't mean he can't still do some kind of work that involves his love for space.

Engineer - In a similar vein, he could be a regular engineer. Especially if he takes after his dad, Jack, more and maybe even creates his own prototypes and inventions.

In a subset to engineer, in my story weekend wonders, Danny is majoring in biomedical engineering. This is because in this AU, the accident gave him chronic pain, and that's how he gained an interest in this field. This could also work great if he gets attention from the Justice League in a DP x DC crossover, or the Avengers in a DP x Marvel crossover; Danny could just as easily work with heroes who have disabilities or chronic pain from many decades of work as heroes. It helps that he personal experience with the same struggles, after all.

Translator - If you headcanon that Danny can understand a lot of languages (or maybe even them all) due to ghost speak, then Danny could totally use this to his advantage with work. Plus!! This offers many different avenues that could be used to your advantage. Want Danny to be connected to the UN in some way before debuting as Ghost King? Have him be a translator that works there. Want Danny to be busy often with his royal responsibilities/ghost fighting? Have him be a translator; he can work remotely or stay self-employed/on contracts.

Teacher - Danny doesn't have great experience with educational staff, so I could imagine him going into this field of work due to nothing but spite. And! He could teach ectobiology, or just ghosts in general. He could do so many topics: Biology, government, history, hell he could do a whole semester on how physics work in the Ghost Zone.

Blacksmith/Ironsmith - Okay, this one is more self-indulgent, but imagine if Pandora teaches him how to fight with a sword and then he gets obsessed with the sword itself that he wants to make one that's perfectly suited for him and this just dominos into going full-blown into this field. (Trade skills are still important, and sadly, don't get as much attention even when they can usually offer fairly decent pay without the thousands of dollars worth in student debt.)

Writer/Author - If you wanted him to be more artistic, he could be a freelance author/novelist or something similar. I feel like being an author would be one of the better choices for him because, again, if you were writing a story where Danny would be busy with a lot of other responsibilities, then he could largely work on his own schedule. Plus! I can totally imagine him hanging out in Long Now with Clockwork when his head is just full of ideas for a story but he wouldn't have the time to write it otherwise. So he kind of uses Long Now to get that time, but he can promise it's for a good cause, stop laughing, Clockwork!

Actor - I really love the concept of Danny being an actor, just for the laughs if nothing else. While this could be a pain if Danny does actually get famous, since that's a lot of media he would probably prefer not to deal with, the concept alone offers a great deal of shenanigans. And... if he does get a good movie deal, he could very well be set for life afterwards. He could be one of those one-hit wonders in television or something.

If anyone has other possibilities, feel free to add! My head is constantly spinning with even more ideas, I might just add some myself.

134 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

#3

DP/DC Week 2022: Day 5

“Have you come to stop me, heroes?” Unnamed villain number 24 of the week cackled with evil glee. His smile began to wane when he noticed the assortment of Justice League members standing around at the bottom of the podium, just… standing there. Watching him. More than one of them looked resigned, in fact. Superman looked a little tired, if the villain were being honest. Was the man not getting enough rest? And Wonder Woman! She looked so bored in his presence, the villain felt a little offended.

“Have you given up and accepted me as your new ruler?” He chortled with a wide smirk. That garnered no reaction either. In the corner of his eyes, he could see the beautiful, powerful Crown of Fire resting innocently upon its pedestal. Oh, how he longed to place it upon his head and showcase the strength of someone who was truly worthy-

“If you can put that crown on your head, and it actually stays,” Green Lantern began, lifting his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I will literally give you fifty- no, a hundred dollars.” Then, the Green Lantern crossed his arms across his chest, looking at the villain expectantly.

170 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

#2

DP/DC Week 2022: Day 3

When Bruce had opened the door to greet John Constantine, he had not expected to have a child suddenly thrust into his arms. He looked down at the boy, maybe two or three years old. The boy blinked back at him. Black hair, blue eyes.

He looked back at Constantine with alarm.

“He’s not yours,” Constantine reassured him with a roll of his eyes. “He’s a kid I work with. He’s usually a teenager but he got de-aged when we ran into this bi- witch, this witch.” Bruce sent Constantine a glare for his near mistake, propping up the young boy onto his hip. Strangely enough, the child didn’t seem to mind being held by a stranger, happily clutching Bruce by the neck with his small little hands. So cute.

Someone really needed to stop Bruce before he whipped out the adoption papers again.

297 notes - Posted November 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Danny's death mark/scar

I've seen a lot of renditions of this idea/headcanon that I absolutely adore, there are versions where it's on one of his hands, or even on his back. There are so many ways that it can be done, which I've always soaked up and enjoyed. But version of this hc that's really stuck with me is:

What if it was on his chest? Right over his heart?

In this version of the hc, that would mean all the power of the portal-which, again, is the equal to ripping a hole in the fabric of the universe- was directed towards his heart. This would instantly kill him, while all this power would simultaneously revive him. Causing him to become a halfa. You could even argue that that's why Danny is just that powerful. All that power was directed at his chest which, as most of us headcanon in the phandom, is where his core would also be located.

A lot of us have always argued that the reason that Danny is so much more powerful than Vlad, and growing in power so much quicker, is because his death was instantaneous. While Vlad's was slower and over the span of many years, most likely.

And if all the power of an entire different dimension was directed towards the creation of his core, how powerful would that make Danny?

This is a concept I'll likely introduce in down the rabbit hole (goes the throne) eventually, and it's an idea you'll see in !!SPOILERS!! chapter 34 of lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood.

But more than anything... I just like it for the angst :P

1,019 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

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[soobvape]

heol

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i've been thinking about this one again a LOT so:

Eddie never said anything about the letters.

Not that Wayne wanted him to, just a fact of the matter.

And consequently, Wayne forgot about them until about five years later.

He's older now, so's Eddie. Along with the added years of experience came the fame. The billboards, the charts, the money, all that good stuff.

His nephew, no, his son was thriving, loving every minute. One album under his belt and another on it's way.

The final show of this tour wound up in Indianapolis, so Wayne made the trek north to see Eddie for the first time in about three years at that point, getting ushered back stage as soon as his ticket was scanned ("You ain't payin' for shit, boy. Lemme support you how I can.").

"Right through here, Mr. Munson." The stagehand gestures him forward through a door and he's immediately accosted by a flying head of curls.

"Jesus Christ Ed, I ain't as spry as a use'ta be!" he complains, grabbing the kid up in a hug.

"I know," he says over Wayne's shoulder, "Jeff only just convinced me not to jump."

"And for that, I thank 'im." Wayne lets him go, looking around the room. "Nice place y'got here. A bit small, but it's nice."

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Ha Ha Ha."

They spend a good half hour catching up on things, then, after the same stagehand gives them the "Five minutes Mr. Munson." warning, Wayne finds himself in the wings in front of an absolutely jam-packed stadium.

Now he loves his nephew, don't get him wrong, but his music was never much Wayne's speed. Charlie Daniels, Dolly, Clarence Clearwater? absolutely. Eddie's deafening guitar and pyrotechnics? ... well, he loves the kid...

All this to say that even knowing how well Eddie's done for himself now, how well his album sold, how many people are here, it surprises the hell outta him when the entirety of the sold out show screams for an encore Eddie says "isn't like anything you just heard, but it's pretty important to me if you care to stay."

Jeff comes off the stage, gestures for Wayne to take off his construction-grade noise cancelling headphones, and says "You'll wanna hear this one."

Wayne shrugs, passes the headphones to the first person that reaches for them, then turns his attention back to the stage as Eddie gets comfortable on a stool without his beloved sweetheart.

"Yeah, I know right? Far cry from my baby, huh?" he laughs, showing off the acoustic in his arms to the whole place.

It's only when he shows the thing to Wayne's side of the throng that he can see the flash of white on the black face.

It's his acoustic. His as in Wayne's before, his as in it's Eddie's now, the one that's had 'This machine slays dragons' scrawled onto it for a couple decades now at this point.

Wayne's heart swells at the sight.

"Now, like I said, this is nowhere near the show you came for, but I've got a special someone here tonight and this song is for them." Teasing oohs and wolf whistles sound across the crowd as Eddie nods, "Mmhm, mhmm, that's correct, my Uncle's here tonight."

The gathered masses howl with laughter at that and Wayne can't help but join in.

"So, to preface this, I left home with a stick up my ass about how no one understood me in my tiny hometown, not that far from here, actually, and my dear Uncle Wayne just nodded at me, let me bitch and complain, and said 'See ya.'."

More laughter echoes up at him.

"Come to find out, he'd been saving me money for years before that, for just such an occasion. Do you wanna know when I found this out?" he nods sagely at the noisy response, "Yep, correct, I found out a month ago when I finally went through that one box that'd been haunting the back of my closet."

Eddie looks back to where Wayne is standing out of sight, "You couldn't have said something? There was a whole grand in that envelope!"

He grins as the crowd jeers and playfully boos along with Eddie, then just shrugs at his nephew.

Eddie rolls his head around as he turns back to the crowd. "Anyway, Wayne, this one's for you."

To say the song was not at all what Wayne expected would be an understatement. The one of the century.

He expected a few alternating chords and more jokes on his behalf that he'd have to rib Eddie for later or something of the sort.

No chance in hell he'd ever expect this.

Nor did he think he'd get all misty-eyed.

Wayne recognizes some of the things he'd written into the letters, some things he's sure he'd told Eddie in the first couple years of him living with him...

When the song is over, the people there for his nephew cheer sky high for him. Chant Wayne's name until he makes his appearance, striding out under the lights to hug his son in front of everyone else who loves him.

(and then eddie sends him all the copies of the magazines and papers the picture of them hugging on stage in front of thousands gets printed in. the one that makes it into a frame and onto the wall, however, is a clipping that says Eddie Munson plays heartfelt ballad for his Uncle, Wayne Munson, who (according to one fan present at the show) "looks exactly like I thought he would.".)

more munsons | my ko-fi | my other works

you're gonna go far

eddie & wayne picture fic based on this post

(long post ahead, but bear with me)

4/10/1984 Eddie,  I’m starting this letter after you came home with the letter from the school saying you’re not graduating this year.  I could tell you didn’t believe me when I told you it’ll be alright, that it’ll all work out in the end. That it did for me when I had the same talk with my pa.. but you eventually stepped back from the edge, I think, you’re in your room now. There was something else there too, which is really why I'm writing this now. You have the same look in your eye that I saw in my own reflection long before I got drafted, the look I saw in your dad’s when Lizzie told us she was pregnant.  You’re already planning your escape.  And I won’t hold it against you when you do kick rocks, I just pray you give me a little warning so I can say goodbye. And I ain’t a praying man. I’m tucking away some cash with this for when you go. Don’t have much, but I have you. And I wanna make sure you have the best start you possibly can.

10/11/1984 It’s been rough for you again. Working at Merrill’s has been good for you. Getting fresh air, sunshine, shit, even your gangly noodles you call arms are looking less noodley. But they just sent you home early today.. something wrong with the crop and they won’t need the extra hands this season. That, starting school again, even Ronnie leaving last week.. I know you two kids were close. You ain’t even getting all excited for halloween! Adding some more cash for you, little more than I could last time.  Just hang in there kiddo. 

6/5/1985 I think you think you don’t know, and I’m willing to let you pretend for a little while longer, but shit, Eddie, you think I wouldn’t know when graduation was supposed to be just because you weren’t the one to tell me? You know I won’t be mad at you. If you don’t say anything for another week, I will. 6/7/1985 - There it is.

7/22/1985 I was able to talk you down again that night, and you ‘re getting back to your old self again. I still can’t believe you had your whole room all packed up like that. I’ll give ya that speech all over again as many times as you need, but I’ll write it down here for you: You’re gonna go far, Eddie. You’re gonna tear outta here next year and you’re gonna knock ‘em all dead. You are so talented, you are much more than any of us Munsons have ever been or will ever be, and you’re gonna be the biggest star in the world. You mark my words. And I know you’re gonna fight leavin’ when the time comes, thinking you need to take care of me or some crap but I promise you: The birds’ll still sing, the trailer will still creak, the leaves will die and fall like they do every year, but I’ll be here whenever you need to come back. I’ll be here as long as you need. If that’s forever, so be it.

8/15/1985 I’m taking you up north this weekend. Just to get away, y’know? Before your LAST senior year starts. Might be cutting it a little close on funds, happens when you’re trying to survive, but we’re overdue for a change of scenery. We ain’t living just to die. Only a little going in this time, but I’ll be damned if I don’t add something along with a new note.

10/5/1986 Been a while since I added to this, huh? Well, it’s finally happening. You are leaving tomorrow and boy did you make a stink before you did. Went on a whole tirade about needing to get out of this damn town, about not being able to get anywhere when everyone except me is against you. I wanted to point out that you’ve got your band guys and that Harrington boy in your corner too, but I didn't think you’d like me interrupting your whole big speech about who it is you love and being queer and all that with a “Yeah. I know. You and Steve make moon-eyes at each other all the damn time.” I’ll make sure to pass on your info to him when I get it. He doesn’t seem like one to hold a grudge (or at least not hold it long), so I'm sure he’ll be the first in line to greet you the next time you find yourself in our neck of the woods. Those kids’ll miss you too y’know. They’ll be college age before you know it. I’m gonna pack up this envelope and stash it in your stuff somewhere I know you’ll find it again. so you can find it when you need it. Can’t believe I managed to save you close to a grand. Not enough by a long shot, but it’ll help ya for a while. Been saving for a years now, y’know..  Now Eddie. I told you all this last year, and just now before you slunk off to bed, but here it is again, just in case you need to hear it: - I’m proud of you. - I love you more than you’ll know. - You love whoever it is you want to love (as long as i’m on that list somewhere) - I’m glad you’re getting out of here when you can. And I’ll continue to be glad that you did even when things get hard. When I’m doing all the chores around here myself, when I go visit Al in county even though I know all we’re gonna do is fight… I’ll be so grateful you’re making your own way in the world far from here. I’m not angry at you, Teddy. But you’ll be the greatest thing I’ve lost. I’ll always be here if you need me. Wayne

some notes!

-i hc wayne as a military man ofc and bc of that, my own sloppy, all caps, post military handwriting is perfect for him!

-i like to think eddie thinks he's slick and wayne didn't know he liked boys until he was about to leave but wayne knows. of course he knows. al told him why he kicked eddie out, wayne just didn't think it was his place to bring it up before eddie did.

-didn't think too much farther after this, but let's just say that steddie happens when eddie comes back to hawkins in a couple years when the shitheads graduate.

[andromedasummer]

you know what i would love to be an option in bg3? making your own party member. like Icewind Dale style. choose their class, voice, appearance and travel with them. obvs i understand why they didnt, but it wouldve been so fun to have the option to make your own member, esp if they could be incorporated into your backstory. a sibling, parent, spouse, adventuring buddy, best friend.

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[batfossil-fr]

man I love writing lore I wish I had the energy to do more than one lore every 6 months

[haemosexuality]

fuck it fnaf tierlist

[autism-corner]

forgot.

[libraford]

The word 'rural' is in the public consciousness again and every time people start going in about the 'rural values' 'rural way of life' I remember just how subjective that word is.

I have a friend that lives in LA. He considers Columbus, OH to be 'rural.' A population of over 900k. Thriving arts community, tons of culture festivals, every kind of restaurant you can think of, one of the most annoying college campuses ever, several smaller colleges, lots of queer spaces, comic book conventions, huge concerts... rural.

The town I live in considers itself 'rural.' 38k population. Arts festival every year, a small pride celebration, monthly gallery hop, big Halloween festival. Five ice cream shops, three coffee shops, a couple fancy bars, so many grocery stores. Huge library, conservation and sustainability advocates, queer spaces, a hospital, one private college. Rural.

The town we nearly annexed, but lost the deal considers us 'urban' compared to them. Less than 5k. They have a limited hospital, often send their surgeries here. Downtown has hardware store, bars, craft supply store, a couple grocery stores, pizza places. There's some farmland, but much of the square acreage is golf. Mega churches. The houses here are 500k. Most people drive ATVs. They have a handful of festivals in the summer.

A town I would often get sent to to cover their high school sports- a little over 2k. There's a Subway, a Domino's, Family Dollar. Some bars, some corner stores. Some local crafts. All the students grow up knowing each other, most of them stay there. But they have craft fairs and art galleries, still.

Less rural still than the town I go through to get there, population of around 600. Houses, farmland, post office, general store.

Who would still look down upon the town of about 400 that I would go to sometimes- post office. Gas station. Bar. The school is the only big thing there.

And yet still, I have seen towns with population in the double digits that have a church and a post office.

Even just looking at the numbers doesn't lend accuracy to what 'rural' actually looks like. Because this is what it looks like in ohio, but it's different in West Virginia- where your closest neighbor might be a mile down a hill. Or in Montana, where your town might be planned very tightly and your neighbors are very close, but the nearest grocery store is an hour and a half away. These are places I've been, friends that I've talked to. I've never been to Missouri or Alabama or Louisiana- I'm sure they have a unique experience of being 'rural.'

So my point is that when people talk about 'the rural experience' or 'rural values,' they are talking about millions of people across the entire country who all have lived unique lives- and who may not even agree on what 'rural' is.

Think about who is talking, and who is being talked over, and who isn't even being asked to join the conversation.

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[junovrsmp4]

three is not a crowd

OR

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

1

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

2

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

3

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he’d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris’ gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

4

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

5

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

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@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

[heartshapedracetrack]

How soon is too soon to think about relegation