#verse: younger

[midnightsaboteur]

continued from [x]

In the criminal underworld, relationships mattered. It was as important to know who to trust as to who to steal from. Vincent had learned that lesson right from his early days as a thief, when he’d stolen a painting that turned out to be an excellent fake produced by Celiné. From there, the two had hit it off and promptly became on-off lovers alongside their professional ‘collaborations’. 

Celiné’s playful quip about him getting seasick made Vincent laugh, a grin spreading across his lips, too. “It’s surprising, isn’t it? Especially considering all the movement we were doing last night,” he mused, his tone just as teasing as hers. He winked again at Celiné before pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot. He’d just lifted the mug to his lips to sip from when she mentioned his boxers. The hint made Vincent smirk, and he set his cup on the counter before strolling towards her. “Would this suit you better?” he teased, pushing down the thin fabric so it easily fell from his legs, leaving him nude right before her. He let her look for a second before grinning, returning to the counter to retrieve his coffee. 

@dearxeden

[taintedlxve]

Cyr has had a dry spell with everyone’s favorite trickster goddess! Surely she missed Loki playing with her!

"Miss is a strong verb." She hasn't and will never forget the shit Loki put her through.

[burnishedrebel]

Vincent couldn’t tear his gaze away for even a second, his grip remaining firm on Vera’s hair whilst he fucked her mouth roughly. The tears welling in her eyes only willed Vincent on further, as did the way Vera reached up to take hold of his legs, clearly for support. As he continued thrusting, he felt his climax start to build up from the pit of his stomach. At that point, he started to question whether he wanted to cum down her throat or over her face. Vera’s smeared make-up and her facial expressions made his decision for him. After a few more quick, sharp thrusts, building him up to the point of bursting, Vincent suddenly pulled his cock back out from her mouth. He fired a moment later, with jets of cum spurting from his tip to land across Vera’s face. As his high crashed into him, Vincent moaned and growled, bliss washing over his figure, yet his gaze entirely locked on the sight of Vera’s face as he painted her with his cum, the image certain to be one that would be burned into his mind forever more.  

@sarawritesx

He was going to ruin her, that much was clear and it was all Vera wanted. How many times before has she got involved with men who promised her all these nasty things yet they barely delivered. But that wasn't going to be the case with him, judging by the look in his eyes and the way he grabbed at her hair. She chocked onto his cock immediately as he pushed it down her throat, letting out grunts and puffs as he asked her if she liked it, but there was no way for her to answer him. The sounds and facial expression would have to do. She felt tears pooling in her eyes as he violated her throat, fucked her face in a quick pace, and the word Daddy slipped from him which made her grunt, which sounded sloppy as his cock drilled her mouth, a few drops of saliva gliding down her chin and tears streaming down her face. Hands gripped onto his legs, but not to push him away, more for support. She felt the heat in her cheeks, and wetness between her legs, but god she wanted to not be able to talk right tomorrow once he's done with her, and she wanted his cum, to either feed her with it or paint her face all nice with his seed.

[clarissaweasley-10]

Jordie probably spent his last hours reflecting on how much he failed his little brother-

[zepskies]

Heyo! So not sure how youd even write this from a story perspective— maybe headcanons r easier idk— but! What would Current SB/Ben say to his younger self (your choice on age) about his future? Whether it be from an introspective place, him talking fondly about his future family, etc — all you boo👍 Hope youre doing well!

Hey there! Thanks, I'm doing well and hope you are too!

Strictly speaking on story/fic requests, I'm only doing full fic requests on my Patreon, but occasionally I'll be able to do a short imagine/HC when something strikes me. For example, you pose a really interesting question. I think the answer would depend on Soldier Boy/Ben's level of growth/character development.

Like, if we're talking about Break Me Down version of Ben, for example, I've actually thought about this a bit before! If he had the opportunity to talk to his younger self, let's say in the 80s (shortly before Nicaragua):

What (BMD) Soldier Boy/Ben Would Say to His Younger Self

"You just think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" Ben says, crossing his arms at his younger counterpart.

"What? I'm at the top of my game?" Soldier Boy says. He smokes a joint, blowing up smoke casually and arrogantly.

Ben chuckles. "That's what you think."

Soldier Boy frowns. "The whole fucking world worships me. Whatever I want, I get. Women, picture deals, a fucking statue in front of Vought tower-- Hell, I've got hit after hit record on the top of the charts, for fuck's sake."

Ben just shakes his head. His rueful smile irks the other guy, but not as much as what he says next.

"And you're bored," Ben says. "You've got it all... But nothing's ever good enough, right?"

Soldier Boy's lips purse, but he doesn't have an answer. Not one he's willing to voice. Ben nods in understanding.

"It's all right. One day you'll find it," he says.

Soldier Boy frowns, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean, find it?"

Ben doesn't want to give away the punchline. This guy hasn't earned it yet. Not the way Ben knows he'll need to. Otherwise, he'll never understand what it all meant. What all those years struggling alone in the dark, and what betrayal, loneliness, and pain were worth.

No, he won't give it all away. But he'll give him this, at least.

"It's the simplest thing in the world," Ben says. "You're gonna meet a woman."

Granted, the way he met you was anything but simple. The way Ben sees it now, though, it is simple.

Soldier Boy's frown fades, his face turning wry. "A woman, huh? Think I've got plenty of those. Any time, any place, any way I want."

"Not this one," Ben says. He can't help a small, reserved smile when he thinks of you. "Matter of fact, she's going to test your last ever-fucking nerve, every day of your life...but you're not gonna be the same."

Ben thinks about the life he's built with you. He thinks about his daughter, Lila, and his son on the way. Ben pictures the house in his mind--Christmases, birthdays, wedding anniversaries, along with missions gone awry, and the fights and arguments that reverberated on those walls. Moments where his temper got the best of him, or your stubbornness made you dig your heels in. All of it is worth it.

"Then one day, you're going to wake up and realize that you've got everything you need," Ben says.

Soldier Boy seems to take that in. He's still skeptical, but maybe secretly interested in the bright future lying in wait behind his older self's eyes, even though he doesn't want to show it.

"Yeah? And then what?" Soldier Boy asks, in a tone that scoffs, but Ben sees that he's serious too, and he's listening. He knows it as well as he knows himself.

Ben levels a pointed finger at him.

"All you need to do, is protect it."

AN: It's like the old Spiderman meme where he's pointing at himself. lol 💚

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Break Me Down Masterlist

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Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List:

(I've paired this down from the old list that seemed to have a lot of people/blogs that are no longer active.)

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@nancymcl @emily-winchester @sl33pylilbunny @chernayawidow @spnfamily-j2

@lacilou @mimaria420 @yvonneeeee @my-stories-vault @iprobablyshipit91

@jacklesbrainworms @adoringanakin @deanwanddamons @globetrotter28 @mrsjenniferwinchester

@deans-daydream @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70

@rizlowwritessortof @chevroletdean @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303

@123passwort @lyarr24 @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas

@jessjad @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2 @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

@deansbbyx @midnightmadwoman @ladysparkles78 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @tmb510

@sarahgracej @foxyjwls007 @just-levyy @roseblue373 @charmed-asylum

@mrlonelycat @kmc1989 @siampie @kaleldobrev @pieandmonsters

@alwaystiredandconfused @mostlymarvelgirl @twinkleinadiamondsky @winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess

@winchester-whiskey @spnbabe67 @cheynovak @megara0224 @yoongi-holland

@illicithallways @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala @impala-dreamer @k4marina

@atenea585 @kayleighwinchester @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @star-yawnznn

@number1whorehome @g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic

@everything-is-all-clear @suckitands33 @cookiechipdough @trashmoutth @riteofpassage77

@jc-winchester @mxltifxnd0m @bleuatlas

[burnishedrebel]

William grinned as Carly reeled off a list of his qualities, a triumphant laugh following from him when she finished. “I should hire you to do my PR if I ever need it,” he mused fondly, another laugh following. They continued walking side by side, with the feeling of Carly’s fingertips gracing his abdomen sending warmth through William’s body. As they reached their front door, there was no mistaking the sudden urgency of Carly’s steps, the implication obvious. William laughed again as Carly tugged him inside, and at her question, he cocked an eyebrow along with a smirk. He wasn’t offended, although when she apologised, he chuckled again before murmuring, “Don’t worry about it, sweet cheeks…” He trailed off, leaning in to kiss her. After they parted, William sighed contently, with another smirk swiftly crossing his lips. “But, to answer your question…” he began, “Yes, I can nail you against the wall.” With that, William suddenly swooped down to lift Carly up and press her against the hallway wall. 

@siiinfully

She hummed and snuggled closer to him, careful not to trip on the few cracks on the sidewalk. “And you’re the perfect guy for me. Sweet and decent and funny, and so, so, so smart. And you know what they say. Smart is fucking sexy. SO hot.” Carly growled softly before giggling, though she’d started stroking his belly over his shirt. Their place had never felt so far away, and there were moments when she thought that her self-control would shatter and she would end up dragging him behind a tree or tall bushes and start making out with him. Before that could happen, however, she saw their front door up ahead, and she almost cried with relief. She hurried up the front steps, slipping her heels off by the tiny porch, and unlocked the front door. Both heels were discarded next, and she was tugging at the front of his coat, moaning lustily. “And does this bookish architect know how to bang and nail me to the wall?” Carly paused, realizing what she just said, before laughing and pecking him on the lips. “Sorry, baby. That sounded so bad. I don’t know any architect sexy puns! If you do, then maybe you could…tell me some?”

[sallymew4]

i love when terumob makes a guest appearance in a ritshou fic because most of the time its like they descend from the heavens as the older, more mature couple to bestow advice to the poor foolish children. while in every terumob fic ever theyre the most romantically inept fools ever who cant catch a break at all

[taintedlxve]

@switchrealms replied to your post “Cyr has had a dry spell with everyone’s favorite...”:

Loki vc, quietly: Well….nothing *that* bad…

​

"You cursed me. Repeatedly."

[ishgard]

Face in my hands crying she is too cute too cute too cute!!!!

So the story goes that, when she was young, Ahru was sent by her mother to live with and train under her friend, Idene Fortemont, in an effort to find a solution to her poor aetheric flow.

But it's also been canon in my head for a while that Ahnia also knew Louisoix from her travels before Ahru was born. So the idea of her sending her to him instead is not unfeasible.

So this is that! I'd still have to iron out a timeline but she was probably about ten or so when she was sent there, just a year or two older than the twins. Bawling my eyes out thinking this would have been her happiest timeline by far. She was still a little shit who got into trouble, especially in the beginning still feeling like an outcast child, but the Leveilleur's were so good to her she would have ended up doing her best.

Still scrappy, gets to pursue her favorite research into the Void at the Studium, probably didn't ever 'fix' that aether problem but found work-arounds I'm still brainstorming (hard lean into Paladin though). And then ends up following the twins to Eorzea and- well, that's where the path diverges. I think this can go either way into a WoL path or a Scion who follows Alphi around like an enthusiastic guard dog. 😌

[burnishedrebel]

Esme couldn’t help but whine and whimper as Jack toyed with her clit. She continued rocking her hips against his thigh, her body trembling and shaking whilst Jack curled his fingers and told her to come undone. With how he touched her, Esme knew she didn’t have long left, the familiar feeling of orgasm building right up from the pit of her stomach. She knew she’d do what he wanted within moments, but his threat to take her to the party with a vibrator inside her made Esme’s eyes widen and her mind stir. In the final few seconds before climax, Esme’s mind filled with vivid images of having the toy whirring inside her at the party, working beneath the exquisite dress to keep her on edge whilst she met Hollywood’s elite. “Oh god!” she exclaimed the moment before she came. A cry followed the words, loud and sharp, as the orgasm hit her. Wave upon wave of pleasure crashed into Esme, making her buck and writhe on Jack’s thigh. Cries, whimpers and moans flowed from her, her vision filling with stars and her cunt gushing juices, the pleasure entirely ruling her as she rode through such an intense high. 

@writermuses

Esme's grinding intensified and Jack grew painfully hard at the sight of her desperate rhythm against his thigh. As Esme's hips continued to buck with each thrust of his fingers, slick with her juices, he could feel just how close she was. He deepened his exploration, palm pressing against her clit in a slow, maddening rhythm. Jack watched her ethereal face, mesmerized by the way her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted as she came closer to the edge of release. "Let go, Babygirl. Want to hear you say thank you like a good girl for letting you get off so you can be nice and relaxed for tonight." He smirked and waited, eager to hear and watch the confident woman come undone, regardless of whomever roamed through his gym. Licked his lips, Jack curled his slick fingers. "Give me what I want or I'm going to be reminding you who owns this pussy all night, Esme. I don't think you want to be walking through crowds of Hollywood's elite with a specific kind of punishment in this tight little hole, do you?" The darkness in his gaze should have been evidence enough that he'd certainly been thinking about making her wear a vibe in public, but he wondered if she thought he'd really dangle directors and casting agents in front of her only to make her do it then and there. Still, he could feel how close she was and hoped she'd be obedient and give him what he'd asked for.

[syndrossi]

Regret AU: Part 5(b)

Daemon is, uh, going through a few things of his own now.

x~x~x

In the weeks since he had returned to King’s Landing, Daemon had found himself inundated with letters from lords and knights who would not have given him a second glance since he had been disinherited in favor of Rhaenyra, but were now eager to congratulate him on his success in the Stepstones.

It was no different in court, where he had allowed himself to be fooled by the whispers of speculation that Viserys’s warm reception might be a sign that he had given up finding Rhaenyra a suitor from amongst the other families of the realm, and sought someone closer to home. More than a fool. I was a raving, dribbling lackwit to think that my brother would see me for anything but a burden to be suffered.

Daemon could not even wallow in his rage, the burn of humiliation just as strong, clogging his throat. He had stopped just short of begging, and still his brother had all but scoffed at him by the end of it. He treats me like a child whining about finding peas on my plate.

He stared at the pile of letters from today’s haul that a page had left with Rolen, sick unto death of false promises and false hope and adoration that turned to indifference at the changing of the wind. I should burn them. I should burn them, burn this room, burn—

“My prince?”

Rolen was looking at him with a concern that brought the rage to a roaring fire in his chest, only for it to die with a whimper, leaving him bereft. I am a thing of pity. How the court would laugh and sneer if whispers of his failure made it out of Viserys’s chamber.

“Shall I read them to you?”

Daemon flopped onto the couch, still unaccustomed to the way his short hair barely moved, and stared at the ceiling, marveling that he had ever missed King’s Landing. The arrows slung his way by ambitious Triarchy bowmen had been honest, at least, and his response simple: burn them all. That had sadly not been an option for Corlys’s more irritating advisors, but Drahar’s men had on occasion done him a favor there.

“If you like,” Daemon said.

He closed his eyes, only half-listening. Rolen’s voice was deep and soothing, stirring memories of distant childhood, when he had been his father’s servant instead. Most nights, their father had read to them. Other nights, their nurse. And still others, it had been Rolen.

Lord Largent sought tales of his son Luthor’s bravery in the final battle against Drahar. Lord Mallery wished to extend an invitation to a hunt at Denmarch next moon. Ser Desmond Lowther professed himself within Daemon’s debt for ridding the Narrow Seas of the pirate scourge that had killed his sister.

Rolen paused after that letter, long enough that Daemon thought him finished. Then he cleared his throat. “From Ser Willam of House Royce—”

Daemon’s eyes snapped open. “Burn it.”

“My prince—”

“Burn it!” he snarled.

“I cannot, my prince,” Rolen said, his voice apologetic. “You would not forgive me if I did.”

The refusal was so unexpected that he sat up, confusion overtaking anger. He vaguely recalled a Ser Willam, for it was he who wielded the Royce blade Lamentation. A second cousin of his wife’s; second son of a second son of a second son. He could think of no reason for the knight to be writing to him rather than the letter coming from Rhea herself. Unless—

He stared at Rolen, barely daring to hope. “Is the bitch dead?”

“Not quite, my prince,” his servant said. He kept glancing between Daemon and the letter, his expression uncharacteristically perturbed. “I suggest you read it yourself.”

=========

“Open the door,” Daemon commanded.

The Kingsguard outside his brother’s chamber, Ser Steffon, gazed back at him impassively. “The king is not to be disturbed.”

“I do not care if he is mid-fuck with that Hightower harlot!” Daemon gave the door a kick, causing the knight to twitch, his sword half out of its sheath before he arrested the motion. “I will speak to the king, or I will burn the Vale.”

The knight’s gaze swept him more carefully, and his lip curled. He knew what the Kingsguard was looking for. “You should thank all seven of your gods, Ser Steffon, that I am sober.” If he were not, he might be halfway to the Vale already.

Daemon kicked the door once more. “Viserys!”

This time, Ser Steffon seized him by the arm, and only Viserys’s muffled voice stopped him from driving the knight into the door. “Daemon? What in the seven hells—?”

“Shall I escort him back to his chamber, my king?” Ser Steffon asked, still gripping him by the arm. “Or elsewhere?”

“If you send me away,” Daemon hissed, “you shall never see me again. I swear it.”

The long pause afterward might have cut him to the core mere hours before, but the tumult of emotion that had flooded him over the past half hour had numbed him to everything but rage. Finally, Viserys said, “Open the door.”

Ser Steffon did as commanded, holding onto Daemon all the while. Viserys stood in the doorframe, dressed for sleep, and judging by the mess of his hair, he had been woken from it. May he spend the rest of the week as sleepless as I shall be.

Viserys studied him for a few moments, gaze lingering on the crumpled sheets of parchment in his hand. “Release him.”

Daemon pointedly ignored Ser Steffon and followed his brother into his chamber, past the clay monstrosity serving as its centerpiece that he had been told was a model of Valyria itself.

“Daemon,” his brother said, a note of warning in his voice. “You cannot make demands of—”

He strode past him, to the table by the windows, and slapped the letters onto the table. “Read these.”

Viserys started with the letter from Ser Willam, while Daemon watched the movement of his eyes through the first page. At one point, they halted, moving back up, then jumped further down the page before reading it through once more. He quickly moved to the second page, then the third, setting them down with a look of dazed astonishment.

“That cannot be,” he said.

“What cannot be?” Daemon said, pacing along the length of the table. “That I might have spoken truth about that bitch’s nature? That I have sons of my own? That they were stolen from me by their shrew of a mother and hidden away to live in squalor?”

His voice had risen to a shout by the end, and when Ser Steffon called into the room to ask if the king required assistance, Daemon grabbed the nearest cup and flung it at the door with a wordless scream. Viserys hurried to the door, which had immediately cracked open, and exchanged a few quiet words with the knight. Daemon’s breath hissed in and out, sharp against the silence.

“Daemon,” his brother said at last, looking shaken. “I do not—”

“Read the other,” Daemon said. “If you wish to know the true depths of her treason, read the other.”

The other letter did not bear the seal of House Royce, which made it far more trustworthy in Daemon’s eyes, and its contents were breathtakingly damning. Viserys, who had leaned over to read Lord Grafton’s letter, bolted upright midway through.

“By the gods!”

“Hatchlings,” Daemon said through gritted teeth. The brief fantasy he had allowed himself through his seething rage at reading the first letter, of taking his babes to the Dragonpit to view the drakes and dragons within, had been shattered by the second.

It was not enough to steal my children. It was not enough to make whatever black deal was necessary to secure dragon eggs. The bitch stole our very tradition of dragon eggs in the cradle.

“I must send word to Lady Arryn at once,” Viserys said, his face grey. “I must summon the small council.”

“Fuck the small council and fuck Lady Arryn,” Daemon snapped. “Give me dragons. Give me Rhaenys and Rhaenyra. We will retrieve my sons and burn Runestone as Aegon burned Harrenhal. There can be no other response to such treason.”

Viserys was already shaking his head. “Daemon, that is—”

“She stole my children, Viserys!” he screamed, his fury only heightened by the hot blur of tears that made the room swim. “The very children you mocked me about, for it could only be my fault that our union was childless. I have not held them. I have not named them. I do not know what they look like. I will be a stranger to them.”

His brother stared at him in silence, bereft of words for once.

“She stole the joy of them from me.” The grief had found its way to his throat now, half choking him. “The birth of my first child—children. It should have been the greatest of joys.” Instead, he had learned of his fatherhood from a letter, the moment forever soiled by the crimes that had been committed against him. Against his sons.

“They are nothing to her,” Daemon croaked. That was the greatest blow. “They were not deserving of her love or her comfort. They are but tools, dragonriders that she might someday use to challenge the throne.”

“Daemon, I—” His brother approached him cautiously, as one might a wild animal, to put his hands on Daemon’s shoulders. He had been taller than Daemon, until one final growth spurt in Runestone had given him an extra inch, putting them eye-to-eye now. “I am sorry. I did not know.”

“You did not listen,” he said bitterly. “I all but begged for freedom, and instead you rubbed my nose in your own blessings.”

“I could not imagine that—” Viserys shook his head once more. “Otto has always spoken so highly of Lady Royce.”

“Fuck Otto,” Daemon said, his voice hollow. “And fuck you, if it was at his counsel that you refused me.”

The grip on his shoulders tightened briefly, and for a moment, trepidation found its way through the churn of fury and anguish. His brother was king. No one spoke to him thus, not anymore. But after a complicated flicker of emotion on his brother’s face, Daemon found himself pulled into an embrace.

“I will make this right, Daemon,” Viserys said. “House Royce and House Redfort will face the king’s justice.”

The king’s justice. Not the fiery rain of dragonflame that they truly deserved.

“They should burn,” Daemon said, digging his chin into his brother’s shoulder. He tried to picture his sons’ faces and couldn’t. “They should burn.”

“Runestone will be your eldest’s seat,” Viserys reminded him.

Then let it burn and let a new castle be built atop it, he wanted to say, but he knew that it was not so simple. As badly as he wished to see its halls reduced to molten rubble, it belonged to his son.

My son. He still could not comprehend having one son, let alone two. He will be a lord, with a holdfast of his own.

“If House Redfort was so eager to claim them as their own, then let Redfort go to my youngest,” Daemon said.

“I shall ensure your sons are given their due,” Viserys said. He pulled back then. “Go to them. Bring your babes home.”

“What of Runestone?” Daemon demanded, his thirst for vengeance overtaking the heartache once more.

“You will leave the Vale to me. They will face justice, Daemon. Once I am satisfied that the full scale of House Royce’s treason is known, you may swing the sword yourself.”

x~x~x

Ser Willam right now, somewhere in the Vale, feeling a shiver of foreboding: I'm (my house is) in danger.

Willam and the boys made it to Castle Graftson so soon after Willam sent his own raven that it would have been no more than a few hours before Lord Grafton sent his, hence Daemon having both to read. And Lord Grafton made his own opinions about House Royce's treason/motivations with the hatchlings plain...

[ianthewife]

very happy that carpenter got to experience the quintessential and universal elder sister experience of forcing your younger sibling w better people skills to order for you. im right there with you girl

[midnightsaboteur]

As soon as Tatum lay down and hitched up her teddy, Roman reached forward and helped her remove the silken garment. With her newly exposed naked figure before him, Roman blatantly raked his gaze up and down her, drinking in every inch. It was something he always liked to do whenever they were intimate, the male never wanting to hide the lust he felt for her. Roman only stopped when Tatum playfully told him to take his cock out, her request making him grin and laugh. “Of course, gotta make sure your fireman is getting his big hose out,” he teased back, mirroring her playful analogy. In just a few quick moments, Roman stripped off the remainder of his clothing and moved back onto the bed, his stiff cock prominent before Tatum. “This what you need, Princess?” he murmured, taking his member in hand so he could start brushing the thick tip against her slick folds. “You want me to bury my big hose inside you?”

@siiinfully

As lustful as their encounter was becoming, she couldn’t help but laugh at his words. They weren’t a turn off; if anything, the humor behind them added to the affection that she felt for him. Tatum pulled him down into a loving kiss, the tip of her nose brushing over his. “You know I’ll always want it, darling,” she murmured, leaving a soft, wet peck on his lips before she lay down and hitched up her teddy, so she could pull it up and off of her. Her body hadn’t changed much, but if what her mom had once told her was right, it wouldn’t be just her belly that would grow big. Her breasts would, too, and Tatum was already pretty ‘gifted’ there. She could only imagine how easy it would be for her to seduce her husband now…like it usually didn’t take much in the first place.

“Go on, Big Fireman Daddy. Put that fire out.” Tatum bit the inside of her lips, and she giggled when she met his gaze again. So she wasn’t as poetic as he was with her words, but she knew she could ride him pretty well. The laughter and the smiles that accompanied the lusty and needy motions seemed to erase everything they had gone through for the past couple of days, and her touch was tender like before.

[ericshoney]

Favourite ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You have to go to the doctors for a check up, not happy with the needles that come along, so the doctor calls for your favourite brother.

Warnings: probably swearing as usual, platonic nicknames, fluff, needles, doctors

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you had to go to the doctors for a check up and some shots. You weren't aware of that part, something your mother and brothers hadn't told you.

Nick, Matt and Chris were going to go along with you for support, knowing you might struggle once you find out. The trio were sat waiting for you and MaryLou. You then rushed to them, showing off your outfit.

"Cute hoodie, kid." Chris said, seeing you wearing the new merch, the guys made sure they had stuff in your size too.

You giggled as your mum came over. The five of you then left for the doctors. It made you slightly nervous, but being five, you were still easily distracted. Nick talked to you the whole way there to ease your mind.

When you parked up, you all walked in, you holding your mum's hand as she signed you in before sitting down and waiting. You only waited ten minutes before being called in.

"Y/n Sturniolo."

Nick, Matt and Chris remained in the waiting area as your mum went in with you. You sat on the bed quietly, swinging your legs as you watched the doctor put some gloves on.

"Hi sweetie, I'm just going to check a few things first, okay." She said sweetly.

You nodded and let her check your weight, height, pulse and breathing. Everything was good but next was the scary surprise. You watched as she went over and pulled out a small needle, making you whimper.

"It's okay honey." Your mum said.

"No." You replied.

"Just a slight scratch, you want to hold your mum's hand?" The doctor offered.

You shook your head quickly and curled up. The doctor looked at your mother who smiled.

"My sons are outside, Nick, Matt and Chris, maybe they can help." She suggested.

The doctor nodded and came to the waiting room. She looked around and saw three identical boys sitting at the back, to which she assumed they were your brothers. She walked over to them with a polite smile.

"I assume your Nick, Matt and Chris?" She asked.

"Yeah, that's us." Nick answered.

"Your sister is about to have a shot, but she's not very happy. Which one of you is her favourite?" She asked.

Nick, Matt and Chris shared a look. None of them thought you had a favourite. The doctor laughed slightly at their confused faces.

"I'll go." The three of them said at the same time as they stood up.

"No, I'm probably the closest to her." Matt said.

"No I am." Nick said.

"Ha no I'm her favourite." Chris said.

"How about all of you come in and help calm her down, I don't mean to rush but I have other people to see." The doctor said.

The three nodded and followed her to the room. You calmed down instantly seeing the three of them walk in, your mother standing by your side.

"Hey bub." Matt called, coming to sit on your left, Nick sat on your right, as Chris stood in front of you.

The guys distracted you, making you laugh and smile, so the doctor could give you the shots without you realising.

"And all done." She said, throwing her gloves away.

"Really?" You asked.

"Yes sweetie, well done." She answered with a smile, giving you a sticker too.

You giggled and headed back to the car. As your mum drove, the guys decided to ask you the big question.

"Sweetheart, who's your favourite?" Nick asked you.

"Favourite?" You repeated the word.

"Yeah, out of us three, bub." Chris said.

"Not have one." You answered simply.

"You don't have a favourite brother or triplet?" Matt asked.

"No! Love all the same!" You cheered.

"Aww, we love you too kiddo." Nick replied.

[valtsv]

sketched shrue's definitely totally real daughters. i've named them cecilee and nevine.

[catwyk]

faulkner is just what happens when a megalomaniacal younger sibling with their head up their own ass is deprived of an older sibling to keep them in check. older siblings are essential to the family ecosystem because they inject a little character into the younger sibling by bullying or swatting at them, providing a subject for the angst inherent to all younger siblings. without an older sibling at whom to direct this "poor me my life is so hard" attitude, the younger sibling believes they really ARE hard done by and they begin behaving accordingly. if carpenter had been around in s2/3, she'd have undermined him to hell and back by saying "faulkner? more like bitch" every time he tried to put the ol silver tongue to use and he'd be too busy trying to cling to his rapidly fraying dignity to worm his way into the inner circle