#hence the 'you know what? foursome sometimes.' thing

[yellowocaballero]

Have to say. Yahiko/konan/kakashi/rin is a pairing i never considered before now lmao

I thought about it for .5 seconds and decided that Yahiko and Rin have to be extremely free love, and that Kakashi and Konan are horny. I think a girl who's already down for a threesome with the two least functional boys would be equally down for a foursome with her least functional man, world's sunshinest man who had the bad fortune to be roleswapped with Actual Naruto, and Konan (self-explanatory). I think it's mostly just sex, but by the time that canon rolls around Kakashi has unfortunately gotten kind of attached to Yahiko and Konan. I think that's always been Kakashi's greatest burden - he can't stop himself from caring, no matter how many times it burns him.

Rin's manipulating Yahiko big time, but I think her affection for him is genuine too. You have to feel bad for Yahiko a bit, but - well, he's not exactly the best person either. Konan knows that Rin's using them but she doesn't care. They are so dysfunctional and I love them all so much.

For the record, Yahiko's been swapped with Naruto and Konan's been swapped with Sasuke. Nagato died instead of Yahiko, but rest assured that he's been female coded enough to be a tragic dead friend who is pretty much defined by others and by his juicy eyes. Don't sorry, they're in a better place now.

[vixenpen]

Caged Hearts

((Hawks x Miku (oc))

(((Chap 1. The Girl in the Big Bird Cage)))

((Pt. 2)) ((Pt.3))

Hawks’ friends had no idea how badly he needed this.

Ever since the breakup, which he had kept hidden from everyone, Hawks had done little more with his peaceful days off than laze about watching Netflix in various parts of his penthouse.

No wait—sometimes he went up to the roof and watched Netflix. Just to switch it up a bit every once in awhile.

The thing was, his quest for a world where heroes could have free time couldn’t have come to fruition under worse circumstances. Because it turned out, it was hard to enjoy peaceful days when you were nursing a broken heart.

That was what brought him here; to a charming old theater house turned jazz lounge with Mirko, arguably his best friend, her girlfriend, Mt. Lady, and Edgeshot. Otherwise known as Rumi, Yu-chan, and Shinya.

Well, that and her.

The ‘her’ in question, was a singer by the name of Syren.

But Syren was not just any singer, oh no, she was his favorite singer.

Hawks had first discovered the sultry songstress while on one of those leisurely patrols he had stupidly longed for months ago.

He had been scanning the streets from the sky, searching for a place to rest for a while, when he ran into her.

Ebony brown satin skin that radiated in the backless silver gown hugging her hourglass figure. It made her stand out against the starry night sky. Which brought him to the feature that had drawn him to her in the first place—cliche as it was—her wings.

Those winter white appendages that fluttered on her back like the perfect accessory and matched her cloud of ivory hair.

For a long time, Hawks just floated there, dumbstruck. She was beauty in its purest form if ever he’d seen it.

As soon as he had regained control of his faculties, he perched himself on the large billboard and googled her name.

She was a singer, songwriter, dancer, and actress, Hawks learned. Her debut album had just dropped two weeks earlier and had already hit number one, hence the billboard.

Hawks pulled up one of her music videos: The View From Up Here.

He had plugged in his headphones expecting a nice escapist bop to pass the time. At most, maybe a new artist to add to his flying playlist.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to feel. To feel so much. To feel something other than hurt, and betrayal, and anger, and sadness.

What he felt watching her sing and dance in the sky talking about how beautiful the view from up there was, was hope, something he had forgotten about in his year of grieving.

After that, he bought two physical copies of her album and pre-ordered her second. Not only had Syren’s music helped him feel again, it made him realize that he wanted to feel again.

So, yes, Hawks needed this.

They really didn’t know how much so...

A security team led them and a few other A-list attendees through the back, acting as a shield between the celebrities, the fans, and the paparazzi.

The group of young heroes were herded through a back door which opened into a darkened hallway, and up an even darker flight of stairs.

“Wow, this is real star treatment here!” Hawks quipped as they climbed the stairs.

“Hey, the lady doesn’t want to be upstaged, can you blame her?” Mirko quipped back. “A bunch of pro-heroes coming through the front door, would steal attention from the most seasoned celebrity. Let alone a new one.”

Once the group was led to the third level of the jazz club, a maître d’ clad in black, led them to a booth with a cream colored tablecloth. A bucket of champagne and four champagne flutes sat ready and waiting on the table.

“How’s that for star treatment, Hawks?” Mirko nudged him with a cheeky grin.

“That’s more like it.”

The foursome squeezed into their booth, poured their drinks, and watched the chaos below.

Guests took their seats while the band tuned up and waiters darted between tables.

There was a small menu of surf and turf items, desserts, and drinks. A waiter came by and took their orders.

Hawks’ keen eyes scanned the venue. The place was classy; dark wood paneling, red velvet booths, low sensual lighting. On the lower floor was a huge stage beneath a large skylight. A massive silver screen behind it.

Thirty minutes passed, they had received their food, and still no Syren.

“Hawks, relax, you look like you’re about to combust any minute.” Mirko laughed.

“Patience is not one of Hawks’ virtues, Mirko.” Edgeshot hummed.

“I know you’re not throwing casual shade, Edge.” Hawks shot back at the ninja hero, jokingly.

“Hawks is just anxious, cuz’ Syren is his favorite singer. Mt. Lady added. “I think it’s cute! I’ve never seen Hawks get excited about anything except KFC and Endeavor.”

That got everyone laughing. Even Hawks had to crack a smile at that one.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. If everyone’s done having a laugh at my expense, can someone tell me when exactly the show should start?”

Lady checked her phone screen. “Another fifteen minutes.”

Hawks pouted, but said nothing.

Well, may as well make the best of the next fifteen minutes.

So he dug into his chicken entree.

Minutes later, the lights lowered and the band struck up. Gracious applause filled the theater.

Hawks perked up excitedly, making Mirko snicker.

“You’re right, baby, he’s adorable like this.” She muttered to Lady.

Hawks could care less. Let ‘me talk. He was about to see the woman that had changed his life perform live and in the flesh.

The stage had been set up to look like a fine dining restaurant, complete with well dressed diners who mined at eating their fake meals.

Syren flew in to cheers from the audience Wearing a two piece costume made of her own feathers. With her long flirty lashes and swift movements, it was clear she was meant to represent a bird that had flown into the restaurant.

She sang and danced all while out maneuvering the angry chef and restauranteur whom both tried to capture her. She also played to the audience, hiding behind them, joking with them, and hamming up the bird bit.

The audience ate it up. So much so, that there was an audible gasp when Syren was finally ‘captured.’ The interlude showed the chef and restauranteur debating on whether to cook her or keep her as a decoration.

The next act showed that they had chosen the latter option. Syren sat swinging in a gold gilded bird cage; her voice was sweet and clear as a bell as she sang mid tempo ballads that turned into rich, velvety laments.

Hawks felt the threat of tears. When the camera panned in to Syren’s tear streaked face, the threat was realized. The audience was silently enraptured by her songs.

And for all their joking earlier, his friends were too.

Finally, the ‘diners’ set her ‘free,’ much to

The audience’s delight.

Excitement built in Hawks chest as he waited for his favorite song: The View From Up Here.

The music swelled. The audience watched with baited breath and curiosity as Syren slid on a pair of glittery aviators and matching headphones. Everyone confused. Everyone, but Hawks.

She squatted low, and stretched those magnificent white wings. With one powerful flex of them, she took off. A collective gasp ripples through the audience, some were on their feet.

The screen behind the stage blinked with the words: Look.

Everyone did. And everyone was floored as they hurtled toward the inky night sky. They broke through the milky grey clouds and soared amongst the stars and the silver full moon. They swooped above the city so fast it blurred into a canvas of neon colors and oblong shapes. They hurtled head first towards the ocean only to be swept up into the sky again. All the while, a song Hawks didn’t recognize pumped through the restaurant prompting everyone to Take Off.

The stage went dark once more and when the lights came back up, Syren delivered the final note. A silky, hopeful, simple encouragement.

Hawks had never felt so much at one time.

He had just watched his favorite singer give the performance of a lifetime and he was too stunned to even move. Let alone roar with excitement with the rest of the crowd.

All he could manage to do was cry.

Pt. 2

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 13

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.

“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.

“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”

“They look bad?”

He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”

Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.

You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.

“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”

You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.

“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”

You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.

“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.

“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”

“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”

“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”

“Hence the handcuffs.”

You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.

“That is…not the same thing.”

“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”

The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.

“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”

“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”

 The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.

That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.

Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.  

“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.

“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”

“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”

“Those ones.”

“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”

He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.

But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.

A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.

“You have admirers.”

Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”

“Not hungry?”

His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”

You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.

“Not even annoying ones?”

“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.

“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.

He hums, nodding once in affirmation.

Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.

“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.

“No?”

“No. But the one behind it is nice.”

“Anything for baby.”

You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.

 The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.

“Oh, shit.”

“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.

“My wallet’s in the car.”

“Damn you, goddamn you—“

He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“No, Namjoon. No.”

But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.

You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.

 “Hey.”

You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.

“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?

He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”

“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.

There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.

“Do you mind if I talk to you?”

You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”

He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.

“…You’re a cop.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.

“Come with me.”

Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.

He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.

“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.

He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.

“So where are you from?”

“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.

“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”

You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”

“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”

One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.

“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.

“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”

You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.

“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”

“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”

“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.

“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”

“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”

“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“

“She’s very vocal.”

You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.

“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.

Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”

Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”

Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”

“Passing through?”

Jackson hesitates.

“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”

You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.

Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”

Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.  

“Looks like you’re already doing something.”

“She…she was an accident.”

“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.

“Don’t. Move.”

A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.

“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”

Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”

“Jaebum has better sense.”

“Back when it was an option.”

“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”

“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”

Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.

“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”

“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.

“I appreciate your opinion.”

“Good. I like giving it.”

“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”

“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”

“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“It’s temporary.”

Jackson shrugs.

“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”

He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.

“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”

Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.

“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.

“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”

Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.

“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.

“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

You only watch him, shivering.

“Speak,” he commands.

“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“

“Were you going to let him fuck you?”

“I—“

“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”

“….I…”  your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“

“You were going to let him bite you?”

Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”

“After I told you not to.”

“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.

He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.

“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.

“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”

“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.

“Get in the car,” he says finally.

“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.

“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”

“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”

“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.

By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.  

“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”

Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Think about what.”

“You know what.”

“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”

“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.

“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.

“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.

“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.

Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!

“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”

He growls.

“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?

“But I—“

“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”

Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.

By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.

Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.

He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.

“Shit.”

“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?

Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.

 You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.

“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.

“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”

“On the couch?”

Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”

His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”

It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.

“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”

“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”

This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.

“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.

“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.

Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.

“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”

“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“

“Fuck. Fuck.”

“—We need to give her time to recover—“

Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.

“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”

“It isn’t a good—“

“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.

“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.

You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.

“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“No.” Yoongi echoes.

“We’re going to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“I will use force if I have to.”

“Mm.”

Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.

“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.

You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.

“Please.”

It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.

“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.

You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.

The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.

You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.

“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”

“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.

“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”

Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“

“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”

He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.

“I—I do.”

“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”

You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.

“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”

“I do. I want it.”

“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.

“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”

“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”

Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.

“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.

“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”

There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.

“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”

Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.

“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”

Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”

“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.

“Tell him.”

“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”

He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”

“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”

But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.

“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.

Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.

“Ready?” Joon asks.

You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.

Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”

“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”

“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”

“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.

“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.

“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”

“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.

Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”

When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.

“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.

Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.

“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”

 There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.

“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.

“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”

Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.

There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.

When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.

Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.

“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.

“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.

Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.

“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.

“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”

It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.

“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.

“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”

“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.

“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.

“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”

“He promised to fuck you.”

“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.

“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”

“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.

“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.

Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”

Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.

“Down. Knees.”

Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.

“How sorry?”

“So sorry.”

“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”

Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.

“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”

 The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.

Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“

“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”

“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”

Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.

Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.

You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.

“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”

“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”

Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.

“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.

Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.

“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”

“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”

Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.

“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.

“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”

He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.

“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

 Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.

“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”

You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.

“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”

He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes.  It feels nice. Warm.

“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”

There’s a pause.

“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”

Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.  

“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”

That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

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[hello-nichya-here]

Fire Foursome Headcanons Part 2

Here are some more Fire Foursome headcanons if you like. And if you think they are good enough can you please leave a comment under my Fire Foursome AO3 page while also putting them on your AOE Fire Foursome page? Thanks!

KEY POINT: The headcanons in this assume an Azula who has gotten the help she has needed, make amends with everyone, and rekindled her friendship with her old friends and Zuko before Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee initiated Azula into their "arrangement."

Q: Which member of the fire foursome is the most likely to be a pain slut?

Answer: Mai; for she is a thrill seeker and she loves nothing more than finding things that make her feel alive. And nothing does that better than driving her lovers so mad with lust that they lose control and hurt her. She loves it when Zuko is taking her from behind and starts pounding her like she is his inanimate fuck doll. She loves it when Ty Lee picks her up, pushes her against a wall, and forcibly grinds their pussies together. And she loves it when Azula is tired of Mai’s edge play and flips Mai on her back, jerks Mai’s legs behind her head, and starts tribbing. However, by hurt she means just bumps and bruises that quickly heal and don’t affect her the next day and not actual injuries. For there are few things that Mai, and really all of The Foursome, hate than being bed ridden and out of commission. And to the rest of the Foursome’s credit, they haven’t hurt Mai despite Mai sometimes losing control and asking them to really hurt her. Not that they would ever hurt, or anyone in the group, ever (again).

Q: Who would like being choked the most, if at all, in the foursome?

General Answer: Tie between Azula and Mai. 

Answer (Mai): For the reasons stated in the above question. 

Answer (Azula): Azula is a dominant woman in her professional and personal life and likes it when her lovers have had enough of her brattiness and put her in her place. For even if Azula has changed a lot, she is still a brat at times, though the other members of the Fire Foursome find it cute and endearing since Azula isn’t over possessive, domineering, or manipulative like she was when she was younger. That and they realize that for all the airs that Azula puts on, Azula is a socially incompetent fuck up (though with much better emotional stability and maturity) without that much life experience and so they cut her some slack. Also, it is one of the few times Azula can “sit back” and not have to think. Besides, even if they said they have forgiven her, Azula isn’t too sure and so likes to give them an outlet whenever they are frustrated with her, or in general, rather than letting their frustrations build up and have it end in them abandoning leaving her again due to her abusive treatment of them and being an evil jackass in general. This is because Azula isn’t so sure she could survive that again, especially since they have become a lot closer than they were as kids. However, the rest of The Foursome remind Azula that as long as Azula remains a good person, a good partner, and continues her treatments, they’ll never leave her again. Not to mention, as they often point out, Azula works hard in order to not relapse so Azula has nothing to worry about.

Q: Who in the Fire Foursome likes hair pulling?

Answer: All of them. They like having their hair pulled when they are being taken from behind and the giver is asserting their dominance. They like having their hair pulled when they fucking each other face to face and the reciever wants the giver up close when either of them are close to orgamsing in order to heighten the emotional connection. They love it when they are engaging in oral sex and either the receiver, or someone who isn’t involved, violently grabs their hair in attempt to make them tongue their wetness completely or in Zuko’s case, completely throat his cock. They love it when, at the end of a lovemaking session, they get affectionate pats or rubs on the head. For The Fire Nation, and the Fire Nation nobility/royalty, always had a big emphasis on the importance of hair and how it represents your status and honor. And so every time they mess with each other’s hair, it is like they are giving a fuck you to the culture standards that led to their fucked up upbringings. That and the fact that they all have nice, soft, and long hair that is nice to touch or hold. In fact, one of the ways they bond with each other outside of the bedroom is brushing and washing each other’s hair before helping each other put it into their preferred hair style.

Q: Which girl is the most likely to go out of her way to learn a new sex act / improve at it to place the other members of the harem?

Answer: Could the correct answer be anyone other than Azula? Just like she has an analytical, eclectic approach to bending, combat, and statecraft, she has similar views in regards to the bedroom. And to make things worse, Azula is acutely aware that she has no prior romantic or sexual experience compared to her brother (who had a date with Jin, dated Mai on and off since they were teens, and has been with Ty Lee for a while), Mai (been with Zuko on and off since they were teens, dated Kei Lo, and been with Ty Lee for a while), and Ty Lee (who has experience from her time in the circus and The Kyoshi Warriors and has been with Mai and Zuko for a while). She knows that they don’t hold her lack of experience against her and have even told her that they find it hot since they get to mold her to their liking. But Azula can’t help but feel inadequate, especially when there is a nagging voice that sounds awfully like her father telling her that fit, attractive women with pale skin, dark hair, and golden eyes are a dime a dozen in the Fire Nation and once the rest of the Fire Foursome has had their fill of her they will discard her. Especially since they easily can find women like her without the complicated past she shares with them or mental illness(es) she has. Thus Azula scoures for the latest sex scrolls and constantly asks her bro and friends for pointers that they happily give her. However, thanks to her therapy, instead of turning her desire to be the best into a misguided attempt to secure their loyalty for all of time and/or into a (ugly) competition, she returns the help she is given and constantly gives her bro and friends summaries of the scrolls she reads in the form of bi-weekly black ribbon letters. And the result? An massive improvement in Zuko’s, Mai’s, and Ty Lee’s sex life and probably the best sex life in the five nations in the Four Foursome’s no so humble opinions.

Q: What would the girls do if the other two were too pregnant to have sex and they had to try to satisfy Zuko by themself? Maybe with the others watching them?

They would wish the non-pregnant girl good luck in trying to keep with Zuko’s insatiable sex drive before going on with their day. For even if they are heavily pregnant, it is not like they aren’t still active. For Mai is Zuko’s head advisor alongside Azula, Ty Lee is head of the palace guards (whether it be the Fire Nation branch of The Kyoshi Warriors or The Rangi Warriors depends on the verse, and Azula, in addition to advisory duties, is the head of the (official or unofficial depending on the verse) spy network made up of the former Fire Warriors. And if they are truly too pregrant to do anything, it is not like they are going to watch sex that they can’t particpate in. Not when they can be lounging in their well earned luxury while complaining to each other about the state Zuko put them in and their plans to raise their children together (or to continue to do so depending on the timeline/verse).

Q: Who is the best at riding cock, riding a strap-on, or tribbing on top?

Answer: Ty Lee. Girl is supremely talented when it comes to all physical matters and this extends to the bedroom thanks to her nigh unbeatable blend of strength, flexibility, and enthusiasm. Hence one of the reasons why a lot of Zuko’s, Mai’s, and Azula’s favorite sex positions with Ty Lee involve Ty Lee onto top of them and seeing her muscular body go to work pleasuring them while often foddling and/or sucking on her big, fat tits. And Ty Lee loves how being on top basically makes the other members of The Foursome basically worship her like the Sun Warriors worship Ran and Shaw. For even if Ty Lee is not as insecure as a kid/teen and thus doesn’t need or desire (constant) attention, she still likes it when she is the center of attention.

Q: How do the girls react to Zuko's dick being huge and/or a little too big for them?

Answer (Mai): Outwardly complaining that Zuko having a big dick has always made him cocky in the bedroom, while internally being jubilant. This is because Mai is a bit of a size queen, not that she likes admitting to anyone though the rest of the foursome quickly realized it and have lovingly teased her for it. In fact, this is one of the many reasons why she kept coming back to Zuko and eventually made it work with him. For while Mai has had one other male romantic partner, Kei Lo, part of the reason why she didn’t click with him, despite Kei Lo being a way better romantic partner on paper, is because Kei Lo is a bit lacking down there compared to his highness.

Answer (Ty Lee): Enthusiastic and grateful that her male partner is able to satisfy her the way she wants to be. This is because during her time in the circus, all of her male partners were lacking and thus she really didn’t get enjoyment from PiV. Well that and because the men were selfish fucks who didn’t care to pleasure their female partners if it wasn’t through PiV and even if they wanted to, they really didn’t know how to do so. In fact, it was this problem that caused her to experiment with women and led her to believe that she was a lesbian before Mai introduced her to Zuko, whose big dick in addition to actually knowing and caring to please his female partners made Ty Lee realize that she was a bisexual and that there was pleasure to be had fucking men as well.

Answer (Azula): It turns out that her Zuzu is a little too big for her...not that she didn’t notice at first. For the first couple of times she fucked Zuko as part of The Foursome, she was way too happy and horny to notice that Zuko was causing her some pain while doing PiV. But after a while, she started to notice that PiV was a little bit displeasurable from her end but didn’t complain considering how hard she had worked to regain her friends’ and bro’s trust and didn’t want them to think she was a burden. However, Mai and Ty Lee noticed and staged an intervention with Zuko where they asked if Zuko was a little too big for her. Azula wanted to deny it since she had been trained not to admit to “weakness.” But thanks to her therapy and personal growth, Azula pushed aside her prior conditioning and told her fellow lovers the truth while apologizing for keeping a secret and being “too weak to fully take Zuzu.” However, instead of getting upset at her, they laughed and told her that it was nothing to be ashamed about and they understood why Azula was reluctant to come forth. This is because they knew that Azula was very sexual inexperienced, that she probably had aniexty related to sex (espeically with them considering their past), and Fire Nation sex-ed was very lacking outside of the basics and contraceptive use. So Ty Lee and Mai introduced Azula to some Kegel exercises to help her relax her vaginal walls (in contrast to them using the exercise to help better clasp Zuko’s cock) and after a week or so of doing them, Azula was able to take in her (really) big bro without any displeasure and truly enjoy Zuko’s cock much to the other members’ amusement. This is because the first time Azula could take Zuko's cock without resistance, Azula had an immodest orgasm that left the normally sure-footed Azula stunned in silence for a minute straight.

Q: Which members of the fire foursome like to be tied up and/or blindfolded and how? Which members prefer to tie up others?

General Answer: Tied up and blindfolded: Azula and Ty Lee. Tie up and blindfold others: Zuko and Mai.

Answer (Ty Lee): Ty Lee is arguably the physically strongest person she knows, with only Zuko surpassing her for sure. Thus, she loves being tied up by Zuko and being “taken advantage of'' by him since no one else can really overpower her and make her feel truly like she is dominated. And she likes being blindfolded by all of her partners since her extrasensory visual abilities are taxing at times, and so she likes to be able to relax and truly enjoy being pleasured by her partners, as well as pleasuring them, without seeing their auras as well.

Answer (Azula): She likes being tied up partially for the reasons stated in Who would like being choked the most, if at all, in the foursome? And partially because she has constantly masterbated to the thought of being tied up and forcibly taken while being pressed up against a wall ever since that muscular and strong snow peasant Sokka accosted her during the Day of Black Sun and gave her an invader kink. Preferably by Zuko, who is wearing traditional Southern Tribe armor in addition to wearing his hair in the South’s traditional style while she is wearing armor similar to the style she wore near the end of the war (Zuko had them decommissioned but once they had become lovers, he had an armor custom built for him and her so they could engage in their various armor related kinks). She also likes being blindfolded because over the course of her therapy, one thing (among others) that she found effective in treating her symptoms was limiting her sensory perception so she could relax once she was in an area, or room, with people she trusted. And even though it took a long time and a lot of struggling, she completely trusts her bro and friends again, and so likes limiting her sensory perception while in the bedroom with them so she can better enjoy being pleasured as well as better pleasure them. However, she doesn't like being restrained like she was in the asylum since it brings up a lot of traumatic memories and is liable to cause an episode. Something that Zuko, and the other girls, found out the hard way for one time when he tried restraining Azula’s arms to her side without realizing what it meant and caused a nasty episode in Azula which stopped the Foursome’s lovemaking session and forced them to comfort Azula throughout the night.

Answer (Zuko): Considering Zuko’s issues related to a lack of control, is it surprising that he would like tying up and/or blindfolding his lovers (with their consent)? Especially considering his history of tying up headstrong girls *cough*Katara*cough? For Zuko loves it when he blindfolds and ties up Ty Lee to his bed post and alternates between pleasuring her with a didlo molded using his cock and his actual cock, until she just reaches her limit. Only to deny her release and tell her she can only cum if she can correctly guess when he is using the dildo and when he is using his cock. And then hearing her struggle to guess until she is a whimpering mess begging for her Lord to relieve which, as her benevolent lord, he does. Zuko loves it when he ties up and blindfolds Azula and forcibly takes her against a wall while they both wear armor and engage in Azula’s invader kink (see Azula’s above answer for details), and eventually taking her womb like he would her “nation” by filling her up with his seed. Zuko tried getting Mai to accept being blindfolded and tied up but after a couple of times where it became obvious that she didn’t get pleasure from the act, he stopped pushing for it since he can’t get off when his partner(s) are obviously not enjoying their lovemaking. And Mai not liking being tied up and/or blindfolded makes sense considering Mai doesn’t like not having agency due to her severe lack of it during their childhood.

Answer (Mai): Mai, similar to Zuko, had a lack of agency earlier in life and likes to make up for it and nowhere does she like to assert dominance and control than in the bedroom. And there aren't that much better ways to do so than by tying up and blindfolding your lovers. For example, Mai loves to blindfold and tie up her girls and have them fuck each other and her at the same time while making sure they are wearing tight as fuck blut plugs that can only be removed once they make the other blindfolded and tied up girl, or Mai, cum. Which is hard to do since Mai is constantly moving them around and fucking them, which makes it hard for the other girls to know who they are fucking, who is close to orgasming, and if someone did cum, who came and who was responsible. This often leads the girls to become overstimulated and, after reaching their limit and thus forsaking their pride, beg their queen (when she is doming Mai makes sure the girls call her queen, especially Azula) to release their bonds and butt plugs. And Mai only listens to them after they beg for a minute or so straight. Mai tried tying up and blindfolding Zuko one time, but it triggered a nasty memory where Zuko remembered when he woke up strapped down to a bed in the palace healers’ room with a blindfold just after his Agni Kai where he wasn’t sure the extent of his wounds...or if he would even live. So Mai never tried blindfolding and/or tying him up again since she would never hurt her Zuko like that on purpose. Especially not when Mai has other ways to dom her high strung boyfriend (or husband depending on the timeline).

Q: Which fire foursome members like non-con the most? (Either on the receiving end or on the giving end)

Answer: None of the fire foursome like non-con at all and is not surprising considering the lack of agency they had for most of their childhoods. A lack of agency that was partially caused by Azula & Zuko some members of The Foursome. And since all the members of The Foursome are acutely aware of this, non-con isn’t really desired by anyone. However, they do have a lot of non-con roleplay fantasies kinks where, with the prior and consistently obtained consent of the person or people being “raped,” the person or people doing the “raping” forcibly has their way with their “victim(s)”. But, they have a strict safeword system where the moment someone utters their shared safeword (“honor”) they stop the scenario and don’t restart until the person or people who stopped enthusiastically gives consent again.

***

I am LIVING for these

[sir-huffman]

tagged by: @songzhong​ (hello, here’s a wall of text, and I enjoyed reading about you Mao!) tagging: @you on the dash - aka you see this you’re tagged.

———  BASICS!​

Name: Duke ( any pronouns, but most use masculine  )

Face Claims:       - Itsuki Kamiyama from GOTH (professional like above)       - Suga from Night of Drizzling Rain (general)

———  THREE  FACTS!

1) I am an ISTJ and a Taurus...so take that what you will. I’d like to say I’m friendly, but tend to put a very large wall (of text) up so people know what they’re getting into with me and to give an explanation for my actions...as such I am very introverted and only have so much energy for interaction. This leaves me seldom to contact people in the RPC unless I have a specific idea in mind for our muses...which honestly I never do. The best is for me to just chuck a meme at people and see how our muses vibe. After that, well uh...yeah. I’m one of those RPers who have more people I interact IC than OOC cuz OOC interaction takes a lot out of me unless we somehow vibe well.

And by vibe well, I mean our muses generally interact well and aren’t apathetic towards each other. There are so many muns that I respect and consider friends and admire from afar, but we’re not close due to just our muses just not vibing as well as others (which is totes fine it’s just how things sometimes go, ya know?).

( you’ll find that I write a lot hence the read more )

2) I am very stubborn and have a little bit of tunnel vision in my own HCs and world crafting. My muses tend to be people who hold an authoritative and demanding presence where their opinions are stated as truth...which is the complete opposite of my own personality. But I’ve learned that I have to kinda draw my lines and I feel like I can probably give people whiplash between my timid and nervous nature and when it comes to defining my muses. Honestly I’m just very flexible with molding my muses to help fit for interaction, but I do have hard lines and like to make it clear if I’m bending my characters vs how they would naturally act...I tend to make my muses push overs unless I’m like 100% comfy...and even them I make them push overs...hence the amount of my crack threads because I have no sense control and just wanna have fun...with my tight assed muses.

3) That said...I’m just a meme. My main reputation is just being that one mun who RPs a Team Rocket OC with 6 Magikarps. But I truly just have two sides. The very crackish side where (1) I’ll just throw our muses in ridiculous situations and (2) the very angst heavy side that usually only talked about due to my muses handling trauma and very apathetic and nonchalant towards breaking hearts. And as I write this out I feel like I’m giving people whiplash on whoever is reading this since they see Huffman here and is like “oh, how cute what a soft boy” and then I bring up Morax who is just a monstrosity of a muse where I’m toning him down 99% of the time because...well...(*looks at hands*) he’ll end up killing a muse 99% of the time if I don’t stop him and that isn’t fun to RP.

———  EXPERIENCE!

My first experience in RPing in general was on an old website called TinierMe and also a mobile app called VampiresLIVE (lol). However I officially started RPing on Tumblr in 2014 as a Gijinka!Groudon blog originally known as theruleroftheland. After that I’ve slowly branched out of the Pokemon RPC but hold a strong connection with the friends I’ve made there (or kinda, I’m horrible at keeping contact with others since I disappear for months/years at a time). But I’ve found I’m most comfortable writing on tumblr due to the amount of formatting and organization that comes with RPing on here.

I’m slowly branching out to Discord (thank you to my dear RP partners over there who are patient with me because I’m slow) and becoming more accustom with being social over there.

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE!

Gender: 100% male to RP as. I find that I gravitate towards males since I have disconnection with male muses from myself and I like having that wall. Writing females get a little too personal for my own comfort so having that extra layer of distance really helps. Also it helps me look at things differently.

Multi or Single: 

I prefer single-muse blogs to run as I like keeping things strictly relating to my muse on one blog and another muse on another. Over the years I’ve been interested in throwing my old muses onto a multi-muse blog but honestly I can never bring myself making a multi-fandom multi-muse blog due to my own heavy need for organization.

As for shipping, I work under what I call a Quasi-Single shipping (aka multi- and single- ship). I operate under the impression that my muses are in an overarching timeline of their life that is heavily affected by their relationships. As such the MULTISHIP aspect is prone to have cheating and relationship overlap. I’m into having muses naturally engage in threesomes, foursomes, lying, cheating, misunderstandings, fights, break ups, get back togethers, etc. with all muses and muns participating together in the joy of it all. Jealousy and questioning of my muses’ relationships and actions are welcomed as I like having the sense that my muses are human and things aren’t so cookie cutter.

That said I am also SINGLESHIP in the sense that most of my muses are not polyamorous and are very much interested in having an end goal relationship where they settle down and marry. With who and how that happens really depends on both my muse and my partner’s muse. So whoever my muse is really shooting to get married to and actively advances will be my main single ship partner...or really whoever is going to influence my muse the most and I can see my muse actually yearning for (which honestly isn’t that many muses *cries*).

That said...Huffman in particular is going to be really hard to single-ship with as he is 100% dedicated his entire life to his lord and savior Lord Barbatos and this is the thanks he gets to Mondstadt and he will betray his own lover and such for Mondstadt.

He is also a(ego)romantic so he has a huge disconnection with serious relationships as he will honestly treat them just like he treats every other citizen in Mondstadt and it can slowly get to any of his partners since he just thinks is just apart of his job as a partner...which is the same job he has with the people of Mondstadt.

fluff/angst/smut:

Fluff: Generally I don’t find myself interested in fluff, but I realized that is only because of my previous muses couldn’t handle fluff at all. For this particular blog (Huffman) fluff is honestly the only thing that I can offer due to the nature of his character. Fluff with the undertone of angst is going to happen a lot, it’s not going to be sugary sweet fluff but just a result of Huffman’s very grounded and relaxed nature. He is calm and level headed, very rational (a little too rational) and very determined to make sure everyone is happy...and as such angst won’t really happen because Huffman tries to avoid such things naturally.

Angst: I enjoy angst, I’m that person who loves crying and my favorite tropes (especially in shipping) is unrequited love especially when it’s with a character who has so much love and dedication to one person. As such, I find that I’m more inclined to talk about angst than actually RPing it. I’m very slow (really really slow) when it comes to RPing unless it’s crack or relaxed banter. So when it comes to angst, I like to set time aside and fully write it out...making me having to respond weeks to months later...haha sorry. Also I naturally have muses who are apathetic towards angst and other muses feelings that is hard for me to write because I’m the opposite and I get heavily invested...it takes a lot out of me.

That said...most of my angst comes from very slow burns rather than actually writing it out. It’s more of the anticipation of the heartache, breakup, betrayal, cheating, etc. that I’m more inclined to talk about than actually RP...as stated above my muses are generally cold hearted and very accepting of any consequence to their actions...they tend to be planners and expect karma to creep up on them someday.

Smut: I am very particular about smut. I personally like talking about it but actually writing it takes a lot more time for me to do. There are some words that I refuse to write (which happens to be a lot of the smutty words lol) due to how I read them in my head irks me and doesn’t flow right (my worst subject in school was English so I don’t know many words okay). As such, it takes time for me to fully write smut and even then the way I tackle it is very action oriented rather than immersive (I like to think) so uh...RIP my rp partners who want to write smut since I usually respond when I’m half asleep and have no filter and probably stare at me like “wtf did I just read?”. I’m sorry my smut partners who have to deal with me.

plot/ memes:

Memes: I’m more inclined to send memes than actually get around to responding to them. I like keeping my thread count low because I’m slow and usually memes require immediate interaction (something that I may or may not have the time for). However, most of my threads come from memes that will fizzle out over time and I eventually drop without warning- it just how it goes.

Plots: I like plotting and defining pre-established relationships. Having to start everyone off with a blank slate isn’t something I like unless it just seems natural for our muses (ie. for Huffman he probs doesn’t know many Liyue characters, but he definitely is close to Mondstadt characters at least on a name basis). As such, I tend to like establishing relationships and then going from there so I know how Huffman will interact with them.

Plotted threads, however, take a lot out of me as I like coining an idea and then having a starter be written and then go from there. If there are checkpoints to happen, I get awkward because my muses are 95% certain to shift the narrative based on what is being written and the situation that arises. So heavily plotted threads isn’t good, but defining the trajectory of a relationship is something I’m down for...mostly because I’m a quasi-single ship and 99% of my muses relationships are going to fail naturally - which is something hard to bring up when there is ship talking happen.

[izzy-b-hands]

Auld Lang Syne

Some poly!Queen, based off my own frustration that I fell asleep hard at like ten last night, and didn’t make it to midnight for New Years (I didn’t wake up till nine this morning, y’all. Like what even was that, the one night my staying up should have been easy to do lol.) 

Quick synopsis: Everyone falls asleep before midnight except for John. And normally that would be whatever, but it’s New Years, and he’s not happy about being the only one awake for this night. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I cannot believe you all,” John puttered around the living room, mugs of tea balanced in his hands and the crooks of his elbows. “Asleep! With two hours to go!”

“And awakened by nine in the morning,” Freddie grumbled, though he took the mug with an appreciative smile. “What a world.”

“Yes!” John continued. “You lot are never the ones to bed early, and the one night it counted-”

“With all respect,” Brian interrupted. “It’s only New Years, Deaky. By definition, we will all go on, and things will be okay.”

The wrong thing to say, quickly apparent with John’s scoff and the dumping of Brian’s tea into the nearest plant.

“Was that really necessary?” Freddie sighed. “That plant is fake, anyway...”

“I’ve been watering it for at least a month,” Brian whined. “When were you going to tell me that?”

“You didn’t look at it?” Freddie laughed. “It’s obviously fake.”

“In his defense,” Roger interjected. “I have also been watering it. I thought it might be fake, but I didn’t want it to die and upset anyone if it was real, so...”

“So if it was real, we would have killed it anyway,” Brian muttered.

“I’m glad the plant is worthy of your attention,” John didn’t shout, but his voice carried out the open window, loud enough to stop the conversation their neighbors were having outside. “Let me know when I am as well, will you?”

He was in the spare bedroom with the door slammed and locked before they could so much as blink.

“I think we fucked up,” Roger mumbled. “In my professional opinion.”

“Professional opinion?” Freddie asked.

“As someone who’s had his fair share of fuck ups,” Roger replied.

Freddie nodded. “I agree. But all the same, I feel like I’m missing something. He didn’t seem all that into celebrating last night; I figured he’d be the first asleep anyway.”

“That’s true,” Brian noted, and they could see the wheels in his head turning. “But, think of it like this. He did organize the little party for us. Bought groceries. Bought the champagne. Had it all ready for us as we each got home.”

Freddie set his mug on the coffee table and ran a hand down his face with a sigh. “We fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Brian winced. “We did.”

---

It wasn’t that he held any great love for any holiday (except maybe Christmas, that one wasn’t terrible.) But he had put so much work into New Years this time, and they had seemed to be enjoying it. They’d all been a bit pissed, but surely even drunken promises to stay awake for two more hours meant something, right?

“I’m being an ass,” John muttered to himself as he paced the room. What had he been hoping for anyway? Something stupid and overly romantic, something he didn’t normally concern himself with too much. But it had stuck in his head a few weeks prior, the idea of trading kisses right on the hour (they were boyfriends after all, even if their relationship together was often low-key, easily mistaken for and hidden as only friendship when necessary.)

And when midnight had struck, they’d all been passed out. He’d fought so hard to stay awake for them, and they seemingly hadn’t even tried to stay up.

“Get over it,” he grumbled to himself again. He wanted to let himself shout it all out to the walls, as he’d done in the past when he was the only one in the flat, but he certainly couldn’t do it now, even if keeping it in his head made him feel overwhelmed, his mind overfull with thoughts. “You’re just tired anyway, you were up until fucking midnight.”

It had actually been more like two in the morning before he’d gotten to sleep himself. He’d left them in the living room, draped on the floor and in a chair and on the couch. The idea, as upset as he’d been that night, even more than now, was that he would enjoy taking the bed from them. It barely fit all four of them anyway (hence the spare bedroom, with its own decently-sized bed), so it wouldn’t be luxurious, but it would be all his.

Instead, he’d tossed and turned (and if he was honest with himself, cried for a short while) and when he did sleep, it wasn’t restful at all.

He stopped pacing and let himself drop onto the bed. Maybe a nap would be reset enough, to quell the fire in his head over something that, even as he was upset over it, he knew was stupid.

---

“John?” Freddie knocked at the door of the spare bedroom, but heard nothing in reply. “He’s holding a grudge, apparently.”

“He is good at those,” Roger said softly. “Let me try?”

They exchanged places, and Roger leaned against the door. “Deaky? We’re sorry, we are. We didn’t realize this was so important to you. That’s on us; we’re stupid like that sometimes. But that’s no excuse, and we’d like to apologize proper and make it up to you.”

Nothing.

“Did he mention something he wanted to do last night, and we were too pissed to remember him saying it?” Roger hissed to them.

Freddie and Brian shrugged. If John had said anything, they certainly didn’t remember.

“Talk to us, at least,” Roger continued to the door. “We can’t help and make it better if we don’t know the details of how we fucked up. And I really am sorry, but we only have a glimmer. We know you must have had something planned for New Years, but we don’t recall what it was, and I admit, that’s terrible. If you can bear it, tell us what it was, remind us, and we can try and fix this.”

Still nothing.

Roger looked utterly gutted. “He always responds when it’s me. Why isn’t he saying anything?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie sighed. “Come on, the tea’s gone cold. We can make more, and Brian...”

“I’ll try,” Brian said, and moved past Roger to sit on the floor by the door.

He waited until they were off to the kitchen to talk. “John? I don’t know if you can hear me. I presume you can. I-”

He stopped himself. The words he had on his tongue were too angry, too frustrated with John for not communicating to them.

He took a breath. “I’m sorry. We did fuck up, and we’re all sorry for that. But you’ve hurt Rog now, you know? He thought for sure you’d reply to him, and you didn’t.”

A pause. He wanted to just shake the doorknob until John opened up, but all the same, he knew that would be both childish and totally useless.

“We want to make it up to you. Make things right. But we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us. Give us a chance to apologize. This isn’t like you, anyway. You have your quiet moments, but usually, when we fight-”

Brian leaned in closer to the door, a sound barely perceptible through it.

Snoring.

He had to laugh, he couldn’t help it, as he stood and walked to the kitchen.

“Glad this is so funny to you,” Roger frowned. “I know you and Deaky have your moments, but really-”

“He’s sleeping,” Brian interrupted him with another giggle. “He went in there to mope, probably got frustrated with himself over it, and fell asleep as soon as he lay down.”

“How do you know all that?” Freddie asked, fighting with their breakfast, for now just a few eggs in a pan. “Roger, can you help here?”

They switched spots, and Freddie met Brian’s gaze. “Seriously. You can’t just make presumptions and hope it’ll soothe things.”

“I’m not,” Brian scoffed. “I can hear him snoring. Go, sit by the door, and lean in close as you can. He’s out cold.”

Freddie walked past him and to the door, and returned a moment later with a smile. “Poor thing. How late do you think he stayed up last night, without us?”

“Everything was cleaned up,” Roger replied. “So too late, I would guess.”

“Get a plate out,” Freddie instructed. “We’re going to pick that lock and get him breakfast in bed.”

“You mean we’re going to wake him up when he needs to sleep, and force food on him?” Brian suggested.

“No, because you know that if he sleeps too long into the day, he fusses anyway,” Freddie replied. “Because then he won’t be tired enough to sleep later tonight, and he’ll just keep rolling like that, from one grumpy mood to the next.”

“Fair point,” Brian nodded. “We should find something to use as a tray...”

“We have one,” Roger said. “...wait, no. We did. The fake plant is sitting on it, I think. Didn’t want water to drain out of the pot and onto the floor...”

“Oh, but we are a foursome, aren’t we?” Freddie laughed. “If he sits up, and eats carefully, he can just set the plates on the bed.”

“I’ll go get the tray and clean it,” Roger said. “The plant doesn’t need it anyway, or so we now know.”

“I could swear I told you two it was fake,” Freddie noted, but Roger was already off to the living room, leaving him and Brian to tend the food.

---

In his dream, it was almost too much. He couldn’t even enjoy it, he knew it was a dream.

They fawned over him, well beyond anything anyone would do for him in real life (and to a degree that made him uncomfortable.)

Freddie, naked in his lap, trying to get him to sip champagne from an overfull glass.

Roger, clothed only in the tiny rugby shorts he occasionally shared with Freddie, offering him toast on a plate. Just toast, oddly enough.

Brian, a telescope in hand, nearly forcing him to look through it. “It’ll fall at midnight, you know.”

“What?” John’s tongue felt fuzzy in the dream, heavy to move, but maybe champagne in dreams was just stronger. “The moon?”

Brian nodded. “If you want it to.”

“I think we need it up there,” John replied. “For tides, and things like that.”

Brian shrugged, and handed him a plate with scrambled eggs on it.

“What is this for?”

Brian shrugged again, and pointed to the moon. “There it goes!”

He watched the moon dip down, falling to land who knew where, its light dimming as it fell.

A panic rose in his chest, and though there was nothing he could do to stop it falling, he felt he had to try.

Before he could get up, trying to gently push Freddie off his lap, Freddie handed him, of all things, a mug of coffee.

“What in the fuck is going on?” John asked him, but Freddie didn’t reply, his gaze falling on their front door.

The knob shook and wiggled, and the sounds of someone trying to pick the lock suddenly came through clearly.

---

“This alone might wake him up,” Brian laughed. “We’ve done this before, how is it taking so long this time?”

“Says the man holding the tray, not trying to get the lock open!” Roger muttered as he fought with the lock picking kit and the door.

“I’m helping in the best way I can,” Brian replied, playfully miffed.

“And you?” Roger asked of Freddie, who was barely holding back his own giggles.

“I...am moral support. I believe in you! You can do it!”

“You don’t remember how to use this kit, do you?”

“I do not,” Freddie replied confidently.

“Delightful,” Roger shook his head, but he giggled as he kept on at the lock.

The door swung open, and took him with it, onto John’s feet.

“Good morning!” Roger chirped, muffled as he picked himself up. “We’ve brought you a ‘we’re very sorry’ breakfast! It’s still warm, even.”

John’s eyes jumped over each of them a few times, their faces showing how eagerly they were awaiting his reaction.

He burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. All he could think of was them in his dream, half clothed and offering him breakfast.

“Um,” Roger said softly. “It isn’t that bad. I mean the eggs look a bit rough, but that’s because Freddie helped with them-”

“I did my best!” Freddie interrupted. “They’re scrambled anyway; they aren’t meant to look a masterpiece.”

“If you settle back in bed,” Brian interjected, peeking past them to John. “I can set this down, and you can eat, and we’ll go away again.”

“No,” John sighed. “You don’t have to go away. Did you make enough for yourselves?”

“Yeah,” Roger replied. “Mostly because I kept forgetting to do less than what we usually make. It’s habit, you know?”

John nodded. “Let me eat out there with you all. This was very sweet though, I’ll say that.”

“Not till you say what we did wrong,” Brian stammered, seemingly surprised at himself, shrugging as Brian and Roger looked to him with confused frowns. “I mean. We could just smooth things over with breakfast, but that doesn’t really make it better, does it? We should work through what actually happened, or rather didn’t, since we fell asleep last night.”

John shook his head. “Was stupid. And I didn’t help things; I didn’t really say to you all what I was expecting. You couldn’t do what I didn’t tell you I wanted.”

“Fair, but I doubt it was stupid,” Roger said. “What was it?”

John blushed bright red. “Just wanted a kiss from each of you when it hit midnight. God, that sounds stupid out loud, doesn’t it? How old am I? Like some damsel in a movie, or something...”

“Hang on,” Roger reached over and pulled him close, then dipped him down and kissed him, even as he giggled.

He brought them back up with a snap, apparently struggling not to just tip over. “Sorry. That was kind of shit, but best I can do at this time of the morning.”

John grinned. “It’s nearly noon.”

“Morning, noon,” Roger shrugged. “What is time, anyway?”

Freddie nodded, and motioned for John to come over to him. The kiss was soft and sweet and still tasted slightly of champagne. “Not midnight, but I think it still counts.”

Brian smiled, then frowned at the tray still in his hands. “Can I set this down before I have my go? I don’t want to spill coffee on you or something.”

“Here,” Roger took the tray from him, and nodded for Freddie to follow him. “We’ll be in the kitchen, getting the rest ready. Freshen up the coffee and tea as well, all that.”

Brian’s kiss was as gentle as Freddie’s, a hand holding the tip of John’s chin up.

“Can I ask you something?” John murmured as the kiss ended.

“Sure,” Brian smiled.

“Would you watch the moon fall, let it fall, if I wanted it to?”

Brian blinked, clearly confused. “I suppose I would. If it’s falling out of the sky, chances are good something serious is going on anyway, whether you caused it or not. I couldn’t stop it, and the effects would be monstrous, so if it would make you happy-”

He paused, and nodded. “Yeah. I’d watch it fall with you.”

John hugged him tightly. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

Brian still looked baffled, but he smiled and welcomed John to his side as they walked to the kitchen, towards the sounds of Freddie and Roger running amok, and the scent of just-starting-to-burn coffee.

[hecohansen31]

I need more soulmate foursome please please please ! Like, yes they love her, yes she is Duncans soulmate, but they have known each other for so long, shared so many things, they all have famillies issues, so sometimes, she's a bit sad and jealous to see the deep connection they have, feeling excluded (even if the boys are not doing it on purpose)

WARNINGS: General Angst, Jealousy, Problematic Relationship

It wasn’t jealousy anymore.

You had never been jealous of Duncan’s previous lovers, because you had always thought that you weren’t worthy of them, or at least they had made you feel like that, at the start and then once you had gotten to know them better, you had learned to love them.

So, you didn’t hold any bad feelings in your heart, you just didn’t have space for that.

But still… you couldn’t help but be hurt by the way the guys would all form their own little group focused on their shared trauma, leaving you out either because ‘you wouldn’t understand’ or they didn’t want you ‘to go through what they had been’.

You had always replied that it wasn’t going through what they had been, but ‘helping them carry part of the pain’, which would help you ‘understanding them better’.

But it was always a door being slammed in your face…

… also, physically.

Like that night: Jim had woken up from a nightmare, sweating through his pajama shirt and moving crazily around the bed, till it woke you.

Michael was still fast asleep and Duncan hadn’t come home that night since he had some rather busy things to do at his office, and the previous night you had fallen asleep all been cuddled up together, so it was your turn to try to calm down Jim, who you woke up slowly and gently, trying to ease the harsh emotion of the dream out of his body.

But when he woke up, he was in an harsher frenzy than the one he had in his sleep, and when you tried to brush a strand of wet hair away from his face, he grabbed your hand with a tight grip that hurt you, making you moan out in pain, enough that Michael woke up.

He proceeded to rush to a scared Jim, meanwhile you tried to ease the pain away from your wrist, trying to talk Jim down from that awful nightmare, but having no effect since he wasn’t feeling, honesty making you feel completely and utterly…

… useless.

Michael quickly came to him, pushing him in a hug, the skin on skin contact effectively helping him settling the reality of the nightmare apart from the true reality of Michael’s warm arms, who smirked softly, cooing in the boy’s ear, sweet words or encouragement.

‘Everything is going to be alright’ he mumbled, the same thing you had tried to calm down Jimmy with, but he was rather effective since Jimmy gently pushed himself in a rather relaxed position, meanwhile Michael adjusted the hug.

You couldn’t help but feel like an intruder, even more when Jim seemed to finally calm down, and you had nothing to do with that.

You slipped off the bed, being careful at not disrupting that peaceful moment.

You slept on the couch that night, mostly after Michael went to shut the door of their shared bedroom, effectively locking you out of your lovers’ secrets.

Your brain that night conjured the worst thoughts in that constant fear, that wasn’t jealousy, but made you wonder whether you were truly needed there.

Maybe Duncan would cry for you, but he had gone so far with only his lovers.

He wouldn’t miss you, if you chose to leave.

Or if they ever felt like they didn’t need you.

Hence when morning had come, you had decided to go on a run to clear your mind, completely forgetting about breakfast and anything that mattered, not even giving the ‘goodmorning’ to the boys, but you honestly felt like you couldn’t face them right now.

Seeing them all tangled up and sleeping so peacefully without you would have hit deep in your gut.

You just run till your legs burned and your stomach churned loudly enough that you didn’t feel like going back home for breakfast but stopped at the first local diner you found and got something to eat, eventually walking back home.

You were thinking about getting a quick shower and then go in town, either to meet up a friend or to go in the shopping center alone to do some Christmas shopping and clear your mind from what had happened last night.

But as you walked in the house, sure that Michael and Jim would be still snuggled, you actually found them both onto the couch, definitely not cuddling and definitely worried.

You were able to spy a bit of the conversation they were having, before they realized you were standing on the threshold.

‘Do you think she is gone, again?’.

‘She hasn’t picked up the luggage this time…’.

And as you accidentally stumbled in the ‘welcoming mat’, all their eyes were set upon you.

“Hey” simply mumbled Jim, trying to go for a small smirk, but you just waved with your hand before you went to hide in the shower, hoping that there you would have a bit of time to yourself, to think about what they were talking, before you came in

Had they thought you had left again?

Why would they think such a thing?

You had just showered with love.

When you went down, Michael was trying to make pancakes, meanwhile Jim fidgeted nervously with his fingers, quickly taking in your elegant clothing, since you would be soon having your own Christmas shopping spree.

In fact Violet, one of your friends had said she would be more than happy to make you some company, for quite some time.

“Are you going out?” Jim mumbled, trying to avoid looking at you directly, meanwhile Michael looked at you from his side-eye, the entire situation making you feel slightly uncomfortable, since you were suddenly the focus of their attention.

Unlike the previous night.

“… some last shopping gifts to make, and Violet said that it has been too much time since we last saw each other”.

They both nodded, but it was more a mechanical gesture than an actual sign of understanding.

“Well, at least we can spend breakfast together” Jimmy tried to brighten the meek situation, but it hadn’t worked since you had just shook your head saying that you had already eaten breakfast and were meeting in fifteen minutes with Violet “… but you can have second breakfast, like hobbits…?”.

Jim’s try had made you laugh, but you simply shook your head and this time Michael had intervened.

“Is there something wrong, (Y/N)?” his tone was downright accusing and it heightened the rage you had in your soul “… you went out and didn’t tell us where you went”.

“Oh I am sorry I didn’t know that I had to actually tell you where I went, I, an adult” you retorted, meanwhile you held his stare, seeing the hit finally landing on its mark, and Michael looking at you hurt, as Jim moved, as always, to quell whatever was going between you and Michael.

“We were just worried, (Y/N)…” mumbled Jimmy, sending you a reassuring look “… I just thought that you would run away again…”.

“Maybe I should” the affirmation wasn’t serious and you didn’t believe it in your heart, but it still got a devastating effect on both of your lovers who looked at you as if you had just stabbed a knife through their heart “… you obviously don’t need me, hence… I don’t see why I should be staying, I’ll finally let you have Duncan all for yourselves again!”.

Silence hit the house and, although Jimmy looked like he was close to crying, Michael looked at you with burning rage before retorting back.

“Then why don’t you run away? You are at least good at that”.

And you did, grabbing the keys of your car from the little table on the threshold, hastily fastening your coat over your body, before you slammed the door behind your body.

So, that they wouldn’t see your tears.

Michael immediately regretted the words he had spoken out.

Jim looked at him shocked and before he knew it, he felt the boy punching him against his chest.

“What the fuck, Michael?!” screamed the younger boy, meanwhile he tried not to focus on the pain in his chest, the one because of you leaving, not because of Jim’s punch “… you just made her ran away!”.

“I…” he didn’t know why he had done it, maybe because he wasn’t used to having to fight with you, since you never picked a fight with him.

Maybe it was also the true fear of losing you again.

The previous night, although you had moved so slowly that you hadn’t made a noise, Michael had still understood that you were hurt by Jim’s rejection: he had hoped you could talk in the morning, but he hadn’t found you.

He had thought it was just time before you seriously run away because they were just too fucked up for an angel like you.

But still some part of him had been disappointed by the fact that you hadn’t fulfilled the promise of being constantly by their side.

Hence the anger.

“Shit shit shit!” mumbled Jim, completely panicking, meanwhile apathy overtook Michael as he crouched down the onto the kitchen tile “… we need Duncan”.

No, they fucking needed you, right now.

[that-curly-haired-lesbian]

The Seven Husbands Of Evelyn Hugo + Taylor Swift: a master post - Part 5/6

Hi guys, welcome to part 5 of my masterpost regarding parallels between Taylor Swift and Evelyn Hugo, the fictional actress from the book The Seven Husbands Of Evelyn Hugo by author Taylor Jenkins Reid!

Before proceeding please be aware that there will be 

**MAJOR SPOILERS**

for the book ahead and please also read my disclaimer!

It’s very important that you read these in order so if you haven’t yet go ahead and check out the previous part right here, thank you and enjoy!

“And then she calmly, confidently took my hand. I bristled, unsure if we should be touching in public, scared of what people would do.  But the rest of the people on the street just kept on walking, kept on living their lives, almost entirely unaware or uninterested in the two famous women holding hands on the sidewalk.” (Pg. 234)

Admittedly not holding hands here, but this was actually the first thing that came into my head when I read the scene above…Here are some actual pictures of the girls holding hands in public though:

--

  “We went out to dinner in public, the four of us looking like two pairs of     heterosexuals, without a heterosexual in the bunch.” (Pg. 234)

This is once again Evelyn talking about their foursome of beards during the New York years and I believe this is something akin to what Taylor and Karlie were hoping to have with Josh and Joe/Tom (or whoever Taylor was meant to beard with long-term) pre-election disaster, hence that retrospectively embarrassing pap walk of Josh with Austin as a way to try and integrate Josh into to Taylor’s social circle so that her, her beard and Karlie and Josh could become “America’s favorite double daters” (as Evelyn describes it)

Obviously with the election turning out as it did Team Swift quickly reworked the plan.

--

Pages 234-238 is Evelyn talking of the Stonewall riots and how she remembers those days and there are specific parts of it that are interesting from a Gaylor/Kaylor point of view.

“Harry and I campaigned for Bobby Kennedy. Celia posed with Vietnam protesters on the cover of ‘Effect’. John was a vocal supporter of the civil rights movement and I had been a very public supporter of the work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.” (x) (x)

“This was our people. And here they were, revolting against the police, in the name of their right to be themselves. While I was sitting in a golden prison of my own making.”

Gold cage, hostage to my feelings (x)

Evelyn, Celia, Harry and John discuss going to participate in the Stonewall riots, wishing they could be a part of this, of fighting for their own people, but ultimately Harry explains why they can’t best when he says:

  “We go down there all we do is attract attention away from the cause and       towards us. The story becomes about whether we are homosexuals and not   about the rights of homosexuals.”

Still wanting to help make a difference the gang discuss how they best can help and come to the conclusion that their best contribution is funding.

Evelyn says about it all:

  “Because of who I was, because of the sacrifices I made to hide parts of     myself, I was able to give more money than most people ever see in their entire lifetime. I am proud of that. But it does not mean that I wasn’t conflicted. And of course, a lot of the time that ambivalence was even more personal than it was political. I knew it was imperative that I hide, and yet I did not believe I should have to. But accepting that something is true isn’t the same as thinking that it is just.”

Remember kids, closeted does not mean ashamed! Taylor accepting that she has to beard does not mean she likes it or even supports the practice. She uses her voice and her money to stand up for the LGBT+ community continuously and that in itself is a brave act for someone who is so deeply closeted!!

--

On page 241 Evelyn refers to herself as “the sort of person who liked being extravagant and absurd.” Basically she’s saying she was extra af™ which just sort of reminded me of how we often comment on how extra™ Taylor is with her hints and teases and it also reminded me of that time Taylor sarcastically referred to herself as “a very subtle person” The two quotes have the same energy if you will!

--

On Evelyn’s birthday the gang goes out to dinner and Celia makes a small “happy birthday, I love you”-type speech which was reminiscent of the birthday posts, sweet! (pg. 242)

(one of many of course)

    “’You love me?’ She said.   ‘Oh my God, what an understatement,’ I told her. ‘You love me so much you can’t see straight?’” (Pg. 245)

   Too in love to think straight……………

--

Years after they last saw each other Evelyn meets back up with her abusive ex-husband, Don (one out of only two of her husbands who wasn’t a beard) when she’s put in a situation where the two of them have to do a movie together.

   “‘I know it doesn’t make up for what I did to you,’ he said.

   ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Because it really doesn’t.’

  ‘But I hope it might make you feel a little better,’ he said, ‘to know that I know I    was wrong, I know you deserved better, and I’m working every day to be a     better man.’

  ‘Well, it’s awfully late now,’ I said. ‘You being a better man does nothing for       me.’ (Pg. 256)

I wonder what we would’ve becomeeeee If you were a better mannnnn We might still be in loveeeee If you were a better mannnnn You would’ve been the onoooooe If you were a better mannnnnn

*The rest of Better Man plays softly in background*

--

On page 164 Evelyn gives Celia a bouquet of lilies which happens to be Karlie’s favorite flowers, Celia calls the flowers Gorgeous

--

When Celia finds out that Evelyn filmed a sex scene with her ex-husband without telling her she’s so upset she threatens to leave again, Evelyn’s reaction:

   “I sobbed.  And I pleaded. And I groveled, desperately, on my knees,           having long ago learned the lesson that you have to throw yourself at the     mercy of the things you truly want.” (Pg. 267)

    If you walked away I’d beg you on my knees to stay

--

The scene on pages 267-268 where Evelyn begs Celia to take her back has major How You Get The Girl/Delicate/Don’t Blame Me vibes…It’s too long to quote, but I dare you to go read it and tell me I’m wrong!

--

  “’I made people money. No one turns away money. They were all too happy to    get me in their movies and then talk about me behind my back.’” (Pg. 270)

Evelyn says this after discussing the rampant slut-shaming of her following her many marriages and her 1970’s film 3AM which people deemed both unbecoming of a lady and  unfeminist. She goes on to point out the duality of her image, while studios acknowledge that “sex sells” and therefore want Evelyn in their movies due to the audience pull she has they also slut shame her for her numerous marriages and choices in roles. When Monique points out that this eventually turned out fine as people these days praise Evelyn for her role in the film Evelyn points out:

  “’It’s all fine in hindsight,’ […] ‘Except that I spent years with a scarlet A on     my chest,’ […]” (Pg. 270)

Does the phrase “a scarlet A” sound familiar? Well, I bet ya:

  You were Romeo  I was a scarlet letter

and

  We show off our different scarlet letters

  Trust me, mine is better

Also sound familiar, right? In several of my queer analyses of Taylor’s songs I bring up the fact that “scarlet letter” refers not only to the literal scarlet A on main character Hester’s clothes, but also to the concept of sin in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1850 novel The Scarlet Letter. (x) (x) (x)

I continue to point out that I think Taylor uses the concept of the scarlet letter as sin to refer to her (in the eyes of the entertainment industry) scandalous secret homosexuality, the “celebrity sin” she’s guilty of.

Evelyn uses the analogy here to refer to her own status as “a sex pot” (her words, pg. 269) in Hollywood. She says that she is a “sex pot” of Hollywood’s own creation not only by the increasingly sexually charged roles she took on during the 70’s but also because of the numerous husbands the industry forced her to take as to not be outed. By forcing bearding on her the industry opened the doors for the constant slut shaming directed at Evelyn and I feel the industry has done much the same to Taylor. The recent for the slut-shaming she’s had to endure is (like Evelyn) the numerous men she’s dated, but she only did that to hide the truth of her (far fewer) true (gay) relationships. Considering my previous points on Taylor and the scarlet-letter/sin-metaphor I thought Evelyn’s use of the analogy here interesting and noteworthy. It is of course interesting too, that the movie for which Evelyn received the most scrutiny and shaming happens to be called 3AM, we all know that Taylor mentions 2AM rather frequently in her songs about love, which are of course where she has received the most scrutiny, her songs and all the “numerous boys” they are supposedly about. I pointed out this similarity between Evelyn’s movie title and a frequent motif in Taylor’s music earlier in this analysis, but thought it was worth pointing out 3AM as a possible blanket-metaphor for Taylor’s music within the context of this book yet again.

--

  “I broke Celia’s heart because I spent half my time loving her and the other     half hiding how much I loved her.” (Pg. 271)

  Sometimes when I look into your eyes   I pretend you’re mine all the damn time

                                //

  Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

--

  “I loved Celia and I shared my truth only with Celia.” (pg. 271)

  Even in my worst light, you saw the truth in me

Just like Evelyn Taylor is saying that even when her public reputation is bad and also very far from the actual true narrative of her life Karlie is the one that actually knows the truth and the only one she can share the full extent of that truth with.  

--

“I did a lot of things that hurt a lot of people and I’d do them all again if I had to.” (Pg. 172)

Those are Evelyn’s words and yet all I can hear are Taylor’s…

  Theeeeeey say I did something BAD                          […]   And I'd do it over and over and over again if I coUUUUld

--

  “I had very little energy left to try to hide who we were. I had learned   all too        well that pain is sometimes stronger than the need to keep up     appearances.” (Pg. 274)

It would seem that in the Reputation era Taylor too has very little energy left to try and hide, she has previously learnt all too well what keeping up appearances can cost you.

--

Thanks so much for reading, check out part 6, the finale!

[aarpanpatel]

From The Diaries of a couples Friend.

What’s swinging like with single male It’s FUN and double the FUN if male is bicurious triple the FUN if male is bisexual.

We have experienced foursome, group fun, gangbang, org, club swinging, under water fun in jacuzzi, over the water fun on beach, nudism in a naturist farm, being naked in clothes optional beach, mmmf, threesome with female, webcam fun but but the most and amazing experiences have been THREESOME WITH SINGLE MALES 😆😆😆

So for us threesome with single male has been integral part of swinging since we started exploring this lifestyle.

Now comes the question why we like threesome especially with male, the answer is simple - Simran likes to interact and experience sensual touch from various males primarily the caring nature of males makes her feel satisfying which is enhanced via the joy of fun in the bed. Other reason is easy to manage on short notice tooo. And luckily we have managed to meet males and have been connected to them for longer term - one male as long as 6 years.

After knowing why we swing with single males now the next question is how we proceed. It’s not rocket science a simple process. Explore the profile of a single male - one who has decent description of his own personality and swinging likes dislikes we bookmark the profile. Even profile with simple pics not necessary tool pic helps to filter it further. Then we start a chat with the single male and based on the decency and natural conversation we decide to exchange body pics. Most importantly if we gel on the chat with common ground and if a connection is established during the chat then we assume the journey has begun.

Then it’s matter of time to plan social meet. Simran is Preety simple lady and we are clear on what we like to enjoy and how we can ensure even the single male gets what he is looking for. Setting the expectations correct and driving from there is very important. We normally met single male at mall and spend time talking about normal stuff and then tell about each other’s likes dislikes. Simran is also vocal to express her views and she has good observatory skills. But as I said she looks for a simple personality with good sense of humour. She doesn’t have any out of the board requirements - physical attraction is imp but the most important aspect is how easy going the male is.

After social meet my simple question is shall we proceed if you liked the person. If she says yes and then she do suggest to start with soft and then later will go with flow. And most of the instance it has been an experience to cherish.

Then comes exciting part for both us and the male which is build up to fun meet. It’s correctly said - journey to the destination matters most and has to be cherished than reaching the destination. Obviously when we are planning for fun meet - based on suitable schedule we still like to be connected. During this waiting phase I share how and what Simran likes and then to elevate the curiosity and multiply excitement we share some nice sexy pics of Simran . As the conversation goes on Simran is comfortable in sharing nude pics too. Ravishing and gorgeous pics of Simran including beach and sensual massage pics makes the await a lot sweeter. Her sweet smile sexy boobs soft ass and sensual body pics makes it more interesting.

Another important thing during the chat is we understand how male responds to those pics and even the acknowledgement to the pics confirms us and even him that both sides have similar wavelength and already at a common ground when the actual fun meet comes. This gives us all so much comfort that when we meet actually the nerves are already settled. Even to make it interesting for male we confirm in what attire he would like to see Simran since in his imagination male has already started visualising her. Let’s convert that taught into reality. Simran’s dress or saree is decided based on males suggestion. Sometimes she wears nice black dress with deep neck or nice simple saree without blouse or simple jeans and T-shirt without inners. Then we finalise the day after a bit of time management and accordingly plan the fun meet.

Even before the meet we share some more pics and if possible a short phone call to make it more erotic. Describing your imagination is free flowing with words and not restricted. Hence when we meet we just chit chat a bit freely. Approx after 20 odd minutes chit chat in person during fun meet and based on time in hand we take the next step..... no no we don’t jump directly into bed. Simran moves next to the male on the same couch and then we share our swinging experience and so do the male. Simran has nice small album of her dashing sexy aura captured in lingerie which we share with the male. Hopefully by now excitement has reached the highest level and hence now comes the first step to experience each other’s touch. Seated close to each other Simran let’s male take first step to hold her hand or too have his hands around her shoulder. Conversation continues with soft fun like kissing on hand then cheeks and once both get cozy lips kissing and then a sweet warm hug. Conversation and sweet hug and kiss do continue for a while. When each other’s hands starts caressing there body and then male touching Simran’s sensual soft boobs and Simran holding bulging cock of the male over his trousers. This is an indication to move to more comfortable platform - Bed.

From the first adventurous step in bedroom of kiss and smooch to the last step of kissing good bye with a warm hug reflecting satisfaction in each other’s eyes is to be experienced and cherished hence I end this blog here hoping we continue our journey with single males on and on and on...