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hopelesslygaysstuff · 4 months

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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you use numbing gel on wanda, and she punishes you for it with some gel of her own.

content warnings: smut, fingering, numbing gel, sensitivity gel, overstimulation, subspace

word count: 5.7k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Retaliation

Silence.

You were so sick of the fucking silence.

Honestly, you loved your girlfriend. She was the best part of your life, the most important person to you and the one you knew you’d marry… but her work days were long. And you were so fucking bored. The silence that filled the large house you shared was only temporarily broken by your music, blasting from your speaker as you worked. Or the sound of the TV, loud enough to be heard from the kitchen as you meal prepped.

But eventually, the speaker would die. Or you’d get bored of whatever show you were watching. Then, the silence would creep in, reminding you of the emptiness that crowded you. Then, you’d start to think about your girlfriend.

God. She was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

You’d met her almost a year ago. You’d been bored in a bar, your friend dragging you along to some fancy work party of hers. She was off talking to some important people or something, and your social battery had died a long time ago.

Someone had gently touched your shoulder, and you’d turned around in surprise. Your eyes met sparkling green ones, taking in high cheekbones and soft auburn hair, and you’d fallen in love immediately.

Wanda Maximoff was perfect in every way. Doting, attentive, communicating with you every day. She was soft and commanding, her touch gentle yet firm. She was the light of your life, the only person you fully trusted in every aspect. She was absolutely the best girlfriend in the whole world.

She was also your dominant, so when she ordered you to do something, you listened.

That week, she had just so happened to order you not to touch yourself while she was at work. It was only Thursday, and you were slowly losing your mind. You’d finished all your chores, including some extra work around the house just to keep yourself busy, but it wasn’t enough.

So here you were, four in the afternoon, laying on your stomach on the bed. Scrolling through your phone, finding nothing interesting enough to hold your attention.

“Fuck.”

Sighing, you threw your phone down, dropping your face onto the comforter. You felt like throwing a tantrum, or breaking her rules and sending Wanda a video or picture of you masturbating. She would be pissed, but maybe she would punish you with overstimulation. At least then you’d actually have some relief from the ever-present ache between your legs.

Your phone pinged, an email coming through. That got your attention, and you immediately perked up as you quickly snatched your phone up. Unlocking it, you smiled widely at the notification.

‘Your order has been delivered.’

Leaping up, and almost tripping over yourself, you made your way downstairs. Your footsteps dully thudded on the carpet as you raced towards the front door, and you swore under your breath when your shoulder caught on a door frame. Shaking it off, you continued towards the entrance of your home, stopping yourself with your hands on the door before unlocking it. As you caught your breath, you peeked through the curtain, gripping the door handle as you ensured the delivery driver was making their way back to their truck.

Wanda had drilled a rule about deliveries into your head.

‘Don’t open the door until the driver is gone. It’s not safe for submissives to open the door when a stranger is nearby.’

A door slammed shut, and you jolted out of your thoughts. Watching closely, you smiled as the delivery truck drove away, slowly counting to ten in your head. As soon as you reached ten, you unlocked the door with trembling fingers, your heart racing as you caught sight of the small package resting innocently on the doorstep.

Scooping it up, you quickly closed the door, locking it behind you. Checking the time, you noted that you still had around 45 minutes before your girlfriend would be home.

Perfect.

That was just enough time for you to hide your new package next to the other toys Wanda kept in the playroom. It also gave you the chance to hide the packaging in the outside garbage. Wanda would never find it, since it was part of your chores to take the trash out.

Mentally patting yourself on the back, you raced to hide your package.

This was going to be a fun night.

—

If Wanda had noticed your badly concealed excitement, she didn’t acknowledge it beyond a simple raised eyebrow.

You were practically vibrating, your eyes shining as you took her coat and kissed her gently. Her hands lingered around your waist, fingers skirting over the silky material of your skirt, dipping slightly below the waistband as she smirked.

Wanda was touchy. That was always a good sign.

You eagerly took in the sight of her, your imagination not quite good enough to conjure up the magnificent beauty in front of you that you got to call your girlfriend. Honestly, between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and her long fingers currently curled around your waist, it was hard to not melt into a puddle of goo whenever she was around.

Her clothes were still pristine even after a long workday, not a single wrinkle in her dress shirt or blazer. You wondered how she managed that, or how her hair was still as soft and curled as it was when she left this morning.

“Baby?”

“Oh, sorry. Did you say something?” You shake your head, clearing it as you look up from your pasta.

Wanda’s green eyes sparkle with amusement. She takes a bite, her lips wrapping around her fork. She maintains eye contact as your grip goes slack around your own utensil, eyes watching her glossy lips as she drinks from her wine glass.

“I asked if you had a good day, sweetheart.”

“Oh- I… well, yes.” you manage, clearing your throat as your sentence dies.

Another raised eyebrow, and an expectant look. Those lips are on the rim of her wine glass again. You want to touch them, to feel them against your skin as she nibbles and sucks her way towards your lips.

God, you want her tongue too. You want to feel it dragging across your stomach, making its way to your chest and swirling it around your nipples. Her plump lips wrapping fully around them as she sucks, her eyes dilated and needy. Your neck, damp from the warmth of her mouth as her tongue drags up, your head thrown back from the sensation against your most sensitive spot.

“Sweetheart,” Wanda’s voice is hard, her hand gripping your thigh under the table. “Focus when Mommy is talking to you.”

You wince, feeling her nails digging into your skin.

“I’m sorry Mommy,” you trail off, casting your gaze back onto your plate. Eye contact made you nervous, and Wanda’s green eyes had a way of reducing you to a stuttering mess.

“Don’t mumble.”

Wanda’s fingers squeezed once more - a reminder to behave - before they disappeared. Her fork clinked against her plate, and you smiled as she ate. You knew that she loved this dish, and when she was happy and relaxed, she normally allowed you a bit more freedom in the bedroom.

That’s all you need. A little bit of leniency.

—

Your body is on fire. Wanda’s hands run over your waist, over your chest, and up the sides of your neck. Her fingers leave trails of scorching fire across your skin, your core throbbing with need. Her lips slide smoothly against yours, her tongue gently swiping over them as she presses you against the wall. Her body is fully against yours, her hips pressing into you as she grinds her hips against yours. It is almost enough to make you break.

‘Focus.’

Gasping for air, you gently press against Wanda’s sternum. She pulls back, her lips swollen and red, eyes dilated as they search yours. Her fingers twitch, still gliding across your skin as she kneads your body beneath her palms.

Shuddering, you slow your breathing, reminding yourself of your mission for the night.

“Wanna try something,” your words come out breathy, and not at all commanding like you were hoping.

Wanda’s eyes bounce between yours, her hands stilling around your waist.

“What did you have in mind, baby?”

“Can I show you?” Your eyes light up, hands eagerly touching Wanda’s face. Your fingers trace her cheekbones, running over her jaw as she thinks. “Please?” You add, letting the word drop into a whimper at the end.

Even Wanda can’t resist that.

You look so desperate, your eyes pleading as you gently guide her towards the desk. Pulling out the chair, you usher her into it, kissing her deeply as her hands attempt to pull you onto her lap. You resist, tucking her hair behind her ear as she furrows her brows.

“Just let me try this, Mommy. I promise it’ll be fun.”

Wanda’s green eyes are dark, the warm light from the lamp casting shadows over her sharp features. Her hands fall to her lap, head turned towards you as you reach into the desk drawer, having prepared your supplies earlier in the day. She can’t help but smile, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek as you determinedly grab the items you’d stored.

Turning your wide eyes towards her, you take in your girlfriend.

She’s relaxed, her fingers gently caressing your face while her other hand is loosely gripping your waist. Her eyes remain sharp, assessing everything around her. They linger around your arms, her head tilting as she attempts to see what you’re holding behind your back.

You cluck your tongue at her, gulping at the raised eyebrow she sends back.

“Close your eyes,” you try to sound commanding, but you see the faint smirk Wanda wears as she slowly closes her eyes. “Please,” you add quickly, not wanting to face unnecessary punishment later for your lack of manners.

Wanda lets out a quick huff of laughter, her hands squeezing your waist.

With one hand, you reach towards her hand, bringing it in front of you and squeezing her wrist briefly to silently tell her to keep it there. You do the same to the other, watching her face carefully.

Those perfect eyebrows furrow slightly, her eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to open them.

You act quickly, securing a cuff around one wrist as her eyes fly open. You grip her other arm tightly as you strap the second cuff around her other wrist. Pulling slightly, you test the strength of the restraints, the soft, thick leather comfortable around her wrists.

“Darling,” Wanda begins, and you smile nervously at her. “Think very carefully about what you’re doing.”

You lean in, pecking her on the lips gently. “I know what I’m doing, I promise.”

Pushing gently, you move her wrists behind her back. Wanda is completely still beneath you, her body rigid as she allows you to maneuver her to your will. Her eyes are locked on your face, and you avoid any eye contact, knowing your confidence will shatter the second you meet those knowing green eyes.

With a click, you secure her cuffs. You’ve effectively restrained her, and you pull back as she tests the strength of the cuffs.

Wanda’s brow furrows even more when she can’t escape from her restraints, her muscles flexing as she attempts to pull herself loose. You can tell she’s seconds away from ordering you to release her.

“Baby, I need you to let me-”

You slap a hand over her mouth, your eyes widening. If Wanda gave you a command, you would cave immediately. You couldn’t let that happen.

“Let me take care of you, okay?” Your voice was pleading. You could hear the whine at the end of the sentence, but couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Wanda’s eyebrows raised, and you quickly removed your hand.

“Alright,” she began, adjusting her weight until she was seated more comfortably. You tried not to salivate at the effortless display of power. God, she was strong. “Remember, pup. I’m in charge.”

Nodding quickly, you place a quick kiss on Wanda’s lips. You almost forget yourself, lingering as her lips press gently against yours, her tongue quickly swiping over yours. You could kiss her for hours, soft moans escaping you as Wanda effortlessly slides her plump, soft lips against yours.

The chair scrapes against the floor as you stand. Your hands are gentle, eyes questioning as you unbutton her pants.

Wanda nods, and you smile brightly. Pulling her pants down quickly, you let your fingers linger on her thighs, feeling her muscles tense and twitch beneath you. God, you could already smell her arousal. You slowly peel her damp underwear from her, watching the shiny juices coat her pussy as you remove the offending garment.

Drinking in the sight of her, your pupils dilate. Wanda can hear your soft pants as you resist the urge to taste her, your fingers shaking slightly as you dig into her thighs. She rolls her hips, just slightly, and you seemingly snap out of your daze, snapping your head up and standing.

The abrupt action has Wanda’s eyes narrowing, her posture tense as you walk towards the dresser.

Opening the bottom drawer, you pull out a black tube.

Wanda relaxes, recognizing the discreet packaging as sensitivity gel. She takes in your stance, your fingers excitedly opening the tube as you put on a black latex glove. Smiling, Wanda remembers your aversion to any type of liquids, gels, or creams on your hands. She’s never even seen you use lotion on your palms, instead, you would rub the back of your hands together whenever your knuckles grew dry.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Wanda watches you squeeze out some gel, smearing it on your fingertips. Her eyes lock on yours, watching the way your brows tighten and furrow in concentration, your eyes glancing up at hers every so often.

Your fingers prod gently at her, and Wanda has to hold back a moan as she feels the cool gel against her warm, swollen pussy. She can hear her ragged breaths, her fingers clenching as she tries not to rut against your hand.

A wide smile spreads across your face, and Wanda has the good sense to let some suspicion cross her mind. She tilts her head and watches your eyes widen at the action.

But then, your fingers are circling her clit, smearing the gel all over it, and a moan escapes her treacherous throat.

“Baby,” Wanda begins, feeling warmth gather in her abdomen.

Two fingers thrust into her, and Wanda forgets how to speak. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at her. There’s something behind your eyes, something Wanda can’t quite focus on. She can’t discern what the unreadable look you're giving her means and blinks in an attempt to focus. You curl your fingers, and she throws her head back in pleasure, forgetting about it in an instant.

The sudden roughness of your fingers pulling out of her draws a soft whimper from her throat.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Your voice is soft, and Wanda narrows her eyes at you as she attempts to get her breathing back under control. The fingers that were buried in her a few moments ago now rub her clit, your eyes watching her face carefully.

Something isn’t right.

Wanda rolls her hips again. She can feel the pressure of your fingers against her and hear the sounds of her arousal as you work her clit… but there’s only a faint prickling sensation. It feels almost cold - as if that entire area has fallen asleep.

Last Wanda had checked, there was only one way to make that happen.

“Darling,” Wanda growls, her eyes dark. “I need you to be very honest with me.”

You gulp, your fingers still moving. Wanda’s hips are still, her attention focused solely on you. Her body isn’t responding to your touch anymore, and you slowly withdraw your hand as you take off your glove.

The tension in the room feels like a bowstring drawn too tight, Wanda’s eyes on you sucking the very air from your lungs as she works her jaw. You hear the sound of leather rubbing against skin and know that she’s attempting to escape from her cuffs. The danger in her expression makes you want to grovel and beg for forgiveness almost as much as it turns you on.

“That gel,” Wanda watches your eyes widen as she speaks, a guilty look appearing on your face. “Was it numbing gel?”

Her voice is low and quiet, but you hear every word. You can hear your frantic breaths as you search your head for an excuse, an answer, anything really. Anything but the truth.

Looking up, you meet her eyes.

They search yours, her head tilted slightly as her gaze unrelentingly locks with yours. The air crackles with anticipation, heavy with the weight of your unspoken words. With each passing moment feeling like an eternity, you search for the right words. They’re on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be spoken, but trapped under the weight of Wanda’s gaze.

She’s waiting, her eyes demanding acknowledgment of her question, yet also challenging you to disobey her. It’s a deliciously delicate balance between mercy and dominance, and you feel yourself crack under its weight.

“Yes, Mommy.”

Wanda’s eyes turn stormy and you watch her chest heave as she attempts to calm herself down. Her hips twitch, and you can tell she’s fighting the urge to roll them. It wouldn’t matter if she did, you’ve ensured that everything is completely numb. She won’t be feeling any sensation for a few hours.

Standing, you feel a surge of power. You’re looking down at her, meeting her frustrated gaze as her arms flex. She keeps trying to pull her hands free, her feet planted on the ground in an attempt to gain some leverage. Wanda’s lips are partially open, glistening as she breathes quickly, her green eyes slightly watery as her frustration builds. Catching sight of her spread legs, you watch in awe as her arousal smears over her inner thighs and down onto the chair.

God, she looks so pathetic.

You move to sit on her lap, acutely aware of her eyes following your every movement. Feeling your legs spread as you do, you smile when her eyes flit down towards your chest. You’d left too many buttons undone, and you arch your back slightly as you hear Wanda make a low noise in the back of her throat.

“Don’t tease.” Wanda’s voice is tight, sounding like she’s holding back a storm. Her words are clipped, each syllable heavy with warning.

Smiling, you lean in. Your mouth brushes her cheek as one of your hands moves to grip the back of the chair, the other sliding in between your bodies, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Whatever Wanda was going to say in response is swallowed by a gasp as you crash your lips against hers. You can tell that she wants to be upset and deny you any pleasure to punish you for misbehaving. But then her tongue moves smoothly against yours and you swallow her soft moan, and you know that you’ve won.

Moving blindly, your fingers find Wanda’s warm, slippery pussy. Two fingers slide in easily, curling as you begin to slowly pump in and out of her.

Wanda doesn’t react.

You smile into the kiss, maneuvering your thumb to rub harshly over her protruding clit. Normally, Wanda would jerk and gasp slightly when you stimulated her sensitive bundle of nerves, but not tonight.

That gel was working almost a little too well.

Teeth bite harshly into your lower lip, and you suddenly find yourself struggling to think properly. Wanda is unforgiving, sucking your lip into her mouth as you moan, your fingers faltering against her.

Wanda might not be able to feel anything, but her pussy knows that it’s being stimulated. You can feel her juices soaking your fingers, running onto your hand and down your wrist as you thrust into her. It’s intoxicating, and you feel your own underwear dampen significantly as you grind yourself onto her lap.

“Fuck,” You whisper, feeling Wanda’s small smile against your lips.

You’re focused, the sensation of her slick pussy clenching around your fingers holding all of your attention. The sound of leather and skin barely registers in your mind, your senses overwhelmed by the smell of Wanda’s vanilla perfume and the feeling of her lips fervently moving against yours.

God, you think you could last in this moment for an eternity and never be unhappy.

A hand wraps around your throat.

Eyes flying open, you barely register the victorious look on Wanda’s face before she’s lifting you off her lap and throwing you onto the bed. The leather cuffs dangle from one of her wrists, her other slightly red from her efforts to escape. There’s a thunderous look in her eyes, and you find yourself slowly backing up on the bed as she advances.

“You can’t run now, baby.” Wanda’s voice is low and there’s a small smirk on her face.

She keeps advancing, her head tilting.

You freeze in place, watching as she makes her way towards you. Her deft fingers quickly undo the cuffs from her wrist, her grip strong as she grabs your arm.

Swinging a leg over your hips, Wanda straddles you. Her thighs clench around you, and her hands grip your wrists tightly. You don’t fight it, your body refusing to relax as you watch Wanda with wide eyes. Her fingers make quick work of the cuffs, tightening them around your wrists and attaching them to the headboard as you squirm slightly.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Wanda asks, her eyes boring into yours.

A flush makes its way onto your face, your nerves on fire. Adrenaline floods your system, the thrill of being caught racing through you. You quickly shake your head, eyes widening when Wanda erupts in soft laughter.

“Stupid pet,” She mutters, removing herself from you as you watch with wide eyes, feeling your core grow warm at the degrading words. “You should know that Mommy always wins in the end.”

Your jaw works as you try to formulate a response. You can’t think of anything, a foggy haze coming over your mind as you watch Wanda.

Soft footsteps reach your ears as you watch your girlfriend quickly make her way toward the closet. She disappears, and you hear her rummaging through the drawers. You throw your head back, breathing deeply as you control your nerves.

You were so fucked. God, what were you thinking?

Pulling against your cuffs, which Wanda had secured to your wrists extremely tight, you rethought your decisions. The numbing cream had been a great purchase, truly. But actually using it on Wanda?

Worst possible decision.

The doorway darkens, and you feel your mouth go dry when you see Wanda’s silhouette. Your eyes drag down over her body, the curve of her nude waist and hips sending you further into an arousal-driven state of mind. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were drooling for her, your hips rolling slightly as you catch a glimpse of the thick, scarlet strapon now tied around her hips.

Her fingers wrap around a familiar-looking tube, the design eerily similar to the numbing cream you had purchased. Looking closer, however, there were numerous differences. The end of the tube was wider, and the dark pigment of the packaging was more matte than the numbing cream.

You feel the color leave your face. Your legs close of their own accord, a spark of fear traveling down your spine.

Wanda smirks.

Reaching out, your girlfriend quickly grasps your ankles, pulling your legs apart roughly. There’s a warning look in her eyes, and your brief struggle against her ceases immediately. The last thing you wanted to do was make her even more frustrated than she already was, although, judging by the look on her face, you were failing.

“Don’t test me,” Wanda’s voice is tight, a sign of her growing ire. “You’ve already earned a big fucking punishment.”

A low moan sounds out.

Your eyes widen at the sound as it escapes your treacherous throat, along with Wanda’s. A smile slowly begins to form on her face, one of her hands slowly moving towards the apex of your thighs.

“You must really like the idea of being punished, is that it baby?” Wanda asks, her voice soft. Her fingers are anything but gentle, swooping through your slick arousal as she harshly flicks your protruding clit. “Do you get off on the thought of me being mean to you?”

Wanda’s other hand drops the bottle of gel onto the comforter, her fingers grasping your jaw tightly when you attempt to hang your head.

“Nuh-uh,” She clicks her tongue, forcing you to look at her. “Dumb sluts don’t get to hide after they tease Mommy. Answer the question, honey.”

A strangled whimper claws its way out from your chest, a shaky exhale accompanying it as you nod your head to the best of your ability. Wanda’s grip on your jaw doesn’t falter, but she feels your attempt, her eyes darkening.

“You really are a masochist,” Wanda mutters, releasing her tight hold on you. “I love it.”

Your eyes light up, relief cascading through you at her words. Then, you remember the compromising position you’re in and the situation you’ve created. Your elation fades, eyes watching every movement Wanda makes.

Nimble fingers quickly open the bottle, the minimalist logo of Wanda’s favorite brand of sensitivity gel flashing in your vision before she squirts a generous amount on her fingers. The lid closes with a click, and the bottle is thrown somewhere onto the bed.

“Now this,” Wanda begins, smearing the gel messily over your pussy. “This gel is purely for my entertainment. You and I both know that you’re already desperate and needy enough that my touch alone could send you over the edge at any moment.”

Two of her fingers rub the gel onto your clit, the rough stimulation causing your legs to jerk. Wanda pauses, looking up at you. Her eyes are dark, the green of her irises barely a sliver around her dilated pupils. Her face is set, a dangerous, almost predatory look taking over her features.

“Stay still.”

Immediately, you feel your body comply. Your muscles feel as though they’re made of stone, your breaths shallow from the effort it takes to not squirm as Wanda mixes the sensitivity gel with your juices.

You feel a tingling sensation start, the barest brush of air against your bulbous clit sending electric pleasure straight to your core. Your pussy feels both enlarged and sore, the need to cum overtaking you in an instant.

The ache. Oh, god. The fucking ache between your legs. It consumes you, every errant thought in your brain evaporating as you find yourself unable to focus on anything but the throbbing heat at your core.

Wanda looks up, hearing your rough breathing, her eyes widening in pleasure at the sight of your heaving chest. You look absolutely wrecked, your cheeks flushed as sweat drips down your temple. Your eyes are wide and unfocused, your pupils expanded so severely they look like endless black pits of ink.

“You look pathetic.”

Biting your lip tightly, you suppress the wanton moan that threatens to erupt at Wanda’s words.

She doesn’t seem to notice, moving onto her knees between your spread legs and wrapping her hand around her strapon. A mixture of your arousal and the gel glistens on her fingers, and you feel yourself throb as you watch her lewdly stroke herself.

Teasingly, and agonizingly slowly, Wanda lines the tip of her strap against your clit. She presses in slightly, the barest hint of pleasure sending your head reeling. You feel like you’re going slightly insane, the need for stimulation forcing a stream of words from your lips.

“Please, Wanda. I’m so sorry, I’ll never trick you like that again. I promise. I need you so bad, Mommy. I’ll be the perfect little toy for you, just please fuck me. Fuck me with your big strap, you can go whatever pace you want I just… I fucking need it. Please.” You end your begging with a whine, your words breathless. You don’t care. “I’ll do anything.”

In one smooth motion, Wanda buries her strap inside you.

“Mommy's going to fuck you until she can feel pleasure again,” Wanda says harshly, grabbing your throat and squeezing lightly in warning when you squirm. You try to protest, your nerves feeling as though they’ve been lit on fire as you shake beneath her. Wanda doesn't let you.

“No baby, shut the fuck up and take it, I've got to punish the brat out of my good little girl."

Then, she’s finally moving. It feels like absolute heaven, her strap dragging roughly against your walls as you clench around her. Wanda adjusts her hips, the tip of the toy hitting your G-spot with each thrust, and you blink stars from your vision.

Any functional part of your brain has completely abandoned you. Your chest bounces with each rough slap of Wanda’s hips against you, the strap disappearing and reappearing quickly as it’s coated with your juices.

The scent of your arousal fills the room, the air heavy as you suck in desperate breaths between frantic moans. Your body feels like a live wire, muscles taut as your legs spread wider.

Wanda grips your ankles firmly, her strength surprising you. She moves, pressing your legs against your chest as her strap fucks deeper into you. With how hard and fast she’s fucking you, you’re impressed with her stamina and ability to maneuver you into position.

Pleasure and pain morph into one, endless sensation. Every nerve pulsates with need, a symphony of conflicting sensations as Wanda relentlessly, almost ruthlessly fucks into you. Her eyes pierce yours, holding your gaze captive as she works you closer and closer to nirvana.

The very fabric of your reality seems to shift and bend, every sensation smothered with a surreal hue of an indistinguishable mixture of pleasure and pain. Your mind feels fractured, floating in a fuzzy embrace even as Wanda’s sharp thrusts splinter your mindscape. The thrum of your frantic heartbeat reverberates throughout your body, matching the throbbing of your clit as Wanda’s pelvis presses against it with each harsh movement.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, feeling every bit like a death march.

In the back of your mind, you know that Wanda won’t take mercy on you. She won’t stop using you until she’s completely satisfied, until… What had she said? Oh, that’s right. Until she could feel sensation again.

If you were correctly remembering the description and online reviews of the gel you’d bought, Wanda wouldn’t be feeling anything for a couple of hours.

A particularly harsh thrust has your thoughts halting instantly. Your mind focuses, the need to cum overtaking your senses as you feel every inch of Wanda’s strap buried inside you. Your swollen pussy clamps down around her, your clit throbbing with need as she relentlessly fucks into you.

The sounds of your soaked pussy reverberate around the bedroom, spurring Wanda on. She can feel your sticky arousal smearing over her thighs as she steadily plunges the strap inside your greedy pussy.

Watching her strap disappear into your tight, eager heat only serves to motivate Wanda. A surge of motivation surges through her veins. Her thrusts have a renewed energy, her movements almost frantic as she fucks into you with abandon. Throwing her head back, she loses herself in an intoxicating surge of power, one hand wrapping around your throat.

You feel your back arch, pussy spasming against your will. Wanda’s fingers tighten, just barely, but it's enough to send your frazzled body over the edge.

Every synapse in your body fires, your senses overwhelmed by the cascading waves of pleasure as they sweep through your limbs forcefully. Your body trembles, Wanda’s strong hands pinning you down as you attempt to escape from the violent aftershocks of your orgasm. Her fingers skirt down your sides, gripping your hips and leaving trails of electricity in their wake.

“Oh, god. Its-” You stutter, feeling Wanda’s hands press your hips full into the mattress, immobilizing you. “Too much, Mommy.”

The words sound slurred, Wanda’s green eyes trapping your attention. You want to float away, your mind wrapping itself with vanilla-scented cotton as your ears ring.

A coiling feeling, spreading throughout your core. Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your mind barely tethered to your body.

“Let go, sweetheart.” Wanda’s gentle voice washes over you.

The unbearable tension in your abdomen tightens, spreading blazing tendrils of fire throughout your being. Your tears escape fully, sliding down your cheeks as you register Wanda’s smile, the intensity of her gaze sending you over the edge again.

You’re barely retaining your grasp on reality, your mind firmly in subspace as a vanilla-tinged fuzziness encapsulates your thoughts.

“Fuck,” Wanda mumbles, looking down.

Following her gaze, your eyebrows rise as you watch her glistening strap slip out of you. Strings of fluid web between the toy and your overheated pussy, and you belatedly realize that it's your cum.

Damn.

Wanda moves, bottoming out as her strap easily slides into you.

Black dots dance around the corners of your vision, another orgasm washing over you as liquid-hot pleasure flows through your veins. You barely register Wanda’s soft voice, your eyes rolling towards the ceiling as you feel her pull you closer with each thrust of her hips.

The pleasure is unrelenting and strong. It ebbs over you like an endless tide, threatening to smother your mind. With each pulse of pure ecstasy, you feel your consciousness teetering on the edge of oblivion, the thin line between reality and euphoria dimming into nothingness.

Green eyes capture your attention, Wanda’s face appearing fuzzy around the edges as your senses are finally overwhelmed. You feel your body and mind succumb to the intoxicating bliss washing over you as Wanda continues to use your overworked body.

A final, shuddering breath and you slip into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness, your mind firmly wrapped in thick layers of vanilla-tinged pleasure.

---

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neowinestainedress · 1 year

Text

between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through.

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you��ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you.

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open. You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement.

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed.

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you’re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face.

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small.

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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leclvrc · 2 years

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european romance pt. I ♡ cl x reader

summary: being set up on a blind date might not be too bad after all

yourusername added to their story

deuxmoi added to their story

yourusername

liked by alexademie, bellahadid, isahernaez and 432.293 others

yourusername red is the color, red is the lover 🎶

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yourbestie when the date lasts all day >

yourusername you get it 💓

ynfan ugh we we robbed of a full fit pic!!!

goddessy/n red is so stunning on her omg. her colour fr

liked by yourusername

alexademie love the suspense 🖤

yourusername you'll find out soon enough babe

carsandfashion am I reading this correctly.... isa liked this???

goatmilton ISA??

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enews

liked by deuxmoi, ynfan, elleusa and 87.291 others

enews beloved it-girl off the market?? say it ain't so! y/n has been on everyone's mind lately. from being on the cover of vogue for the first time in her career, to making all of us run to the stores to emulate her style! but people are looking to her now as she teases us with brief glimpses into her new adventures in the dating world! who do you think has her so hooked?

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ynfan I'm scared that it's another fuckboy 😭 last time she went mia for five months, i can't take that again!!!

carsandfashion you're so real 🤣

yndefender look at herrrrr she's so pretty ❤ just gonna ignore the fact that those look like stalker pics

carsandfashion on my knees, begging her to date a nice boy this time around 😧

mabeljs anyone know the book she's reading... asking for a friend

babemisty whose house is she sitting in front of anyway 👀

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elleusa

liked by vogue, yourusername, bellahadid and 291.201 others

elleusa in this months issue, we were able to capture @.yourusername in the streets of LA! she talks us through being THE it-girl of our time, blind dates and how scary dating can be after a long break and her very own street style fashion! make sure to pick up an issue whenever you can and visit us on our website to read the interview online.

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bellahadid cover girl ❤

yourusername soul sister ❤

yourusername thank you so much for having me @.elleusa! it was a pleasure and I must say, I look quite dashing on that cover 😉

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zendaya a serve

ynfan the look and dress and attitude uhm MA'AM do u want us to die???

gossipblog stunning! but I'm way more interested in who she talks about in her interview 👀

yourbestie she came to kill 🤕

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yourusername

liked by bellahadid, alexademie, elleusa and 593.291 others

yourusername when your date turns into an impromptu photo shoot <3

📸 my love

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alexademie that for sure happens to all of us

yourusername I'll be your photographer next time 💕

ynfan MY LOVE PHOTO CREDIT??? WHO IS IT GIRL WHO

goddessyn SHE'S SO STUNNING!!!! ugh whoever it is is so lucky

liked by yourbestie

yourusername he sure is 😌

elleusa let us know next time you want to bring your own photographer 😉

goatmilton I'm fr so in love with her, but SPILL who is your man!!

yourusername added to their story

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 481.933 others

charles_leclerc off-season 🙌🏻

📸 ma belle

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scuderiaferrari already counting down the days until the new season 😢

pierregasly mate you did more than just see your car and play piano 🤣

carlossainz55 does he send you pictures all the time too

tifosi16 charles goes mia since abu dhabi and then comes back to drop... two pictures

charleslechair MA BELLE???

honeybadger no exactly... i need all the details rn, like fr fr

charlos excited to have you back on track!!!!

yourusername

liked by zendaya, yourbestie, pierregasly and 422.290 others

yourusername european romance 💕

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yourbestie you abandoned me here in sunny LA for THAT view? well suddenly I'm not mad anymore

yourusername girl 😭 I'm showing him that one

yourbestie ask him if any of his brothers are single

alexalvr where is @.charleslechair girl... doesn't he have two brothers?

charleslechair AND I STAY WINNING!

pierregasly visit milan if you can 🙌🏻

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honeybadger ik pierre likes everything but telling her to come to MILAN?? nah she's fr fr with charles

ynfan ugh the fit.... and ig charles isn't too bad either

yourusername what's a charles?

ynfan MA'AM???

charleslechair what's a charles 😭😭 like half her comments aren't flooded with mentions of him

#f1 instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #this is running so long but therell be a second part hehe #**mine

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gyusimp · 1 year

Text

°• 🍡 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜 🍡 •° [Dom Mitsuri Kanroji x Fem reader]

Ok, I know this post is a bit different so let me explain. I have a friend who's sickly in love with Mitsuri, so she literally paid me to write a fic for her hahaha. I had never written femxfem before, doing this took me out of my comfort zone and even helped me unblock myself! It was a new experience and at the same time fun, I was satisfied with the result so I wanted to post it here in case anyone is interested lmao otherwise just ignore it. I'll post it on AO3 later too.

°•Read Part 02 here!

You were outside her door, in the hallway of her apartment after ringing the bell. Mitsuri would not take long to leave and so it was. After about 10 seconds she appeared on the other side of the door with a big smile on her face as she invited you in.

You had a math test in 1 week at university, you weren't exactly good at math so your friend immediately offered to give you some lessons, practice some topics and help you pass the test with the highest possible score.

"Welcome back, y/n-chan!" She greeted you, excited.

You took off your shoes and left them at the entrance and then headed to Mitsuri's room, the sound of your bare feet and hers walking on the floor accompanied their voices down the hall until she entered her room. The study desk was clean and tidy ready to work so you put your small backpack on the floor next to the bed and sat on one of the chairs that Mitsuri had brought.

"Thank you so much Mitsuri, you have no idea how much this will help me, you are amazing." You thanked her, for the thousandth time since she offered you her help.

"It's nothing y/n-chan! Anything for my friend" she said with flushed cheeks, moving one of her hands while holding her face embarrassedly with the other. "How about we start now?" One took a seat next to the other, you took out some graph paper, your pencil case and your math book. You told Mitsuri what you had to study and which ones were difficult for you, she was not only very good at math but she was also very sweet and patient with you so that gave you enough confidence to ask all the questions you wanted.

She was as sweet as a kindergarten teacher, she even congratulated you when the answer in the exercises you did was correct. It had already been 1 hour and a half since the study session began so the best thing was a short break to clear your mind and prevent you from falling asleep.

"You're doing great! How about a 20 minute break?"

"Cool, I didn't want to fall asleep." You joked, laughing with Mitsuri.

"I'll go get a glass of water, do you want water too?" She asked.

"OK thanks."

Mitsuri stood up and stretched raising her arms, you looked for no reason in her direction without thinking and watched just as she adjusted her skirt after standing up making your chest jump. Mitsuri always wore tight or short clothes, and this skirt was very short so you could see the beginning of her butt as she started to walk towards the door. When she left the room you tried to erase that image from your head and think about something else, maybe read your notes again and thus distract yourself quickly but all that came to mind was the scene when she opened the door of her apartment and the first thing you saw after her face was her tight bust under the little t-shirt she was wearing and that prominent v-neckline showing a big part of the beginning of her boobs. Was it starting to get hot? You decided to take off the cardigan you were wearing and freshen up, luckily you were wearing shorts and a tank top.

After a few seconds, the pink-haired girl entered the room with 2 glasses of water in her hands, the water was so cold that small drops slipped down the glass.

"Thanks girl, this was what I needed." You said, hoping that drinking something cool would stop your pulse racing.

ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡ೃ࿐♡

About 25 minutes of class passed after having had that little break time, you were starting to get bored and despite putting all your effort into paying attention you couldn't solve this exercise. The problems were the most difficult and Mitsuri noticed your frustrated expression trying to solve it.

"Do you have any question?" She asked attentively.

"I can't understand this part, do the exponents have to be multiplied here too? Agh! I feel so stupid..."

"You're not stupid y/n-chan! You've already managed to solve other exercises, you're very smart!"

You looked at the clock on the screen of your cell phone, there was still time to complete the agreed 2 hours of study so you sighed tired when you thought about it.

"So far you've done really well, so I think we can take another break." Mitsuri said, trying to cheer you up.

"Ok, I hope that helps." You got up from the chair and stretched again as did Mitsuri. She got up from the chair and walked to her bed to get on and crawl on the mattress towards the pillows, you looked behind you and realized two things that made you feel too nervous again. She sat cross-legged but her skirt was very short so inevitably you could see her panties and because of the position of her legs you could have seen more but you decided to place your eyes elsewhere.

"Even I feel a bit tired" Mitsuri said.

"What are you talking about? I'm the one who's been burning out her one neuron." You teased, both of you laughing in unison.

"I mean, I've never spent so much time sitting in those chairs, I usually use my bed as a study area so now my back is tingling haha."

"Me too!" You said, sitting on the bed next to her.

Mitsuri sighed and ran one of her hands over her shoulder and back. "Do you mind?" She asked. You didn't have time to react when she reached under her clothes to unhook her bra and remove it, throwing it elsewhere.

"N-not at all, don't worry." You and Mitsuri were quite confident so she was used to doing things like this in front of you without knowing that you were trying hard to hide your nerves.

"These things can be really uncomfortable sometimes, especially when, well...you know." She said, pouting as she massaged her breasts. Why had she done that? Now you felt bad for not being able to stop seeing her. Her little shirt was so tight to her body that it hugged her breasts perfectly, making her nipples stand out from under the fabric. Her breasts were large and the way they bounced under her clothes when she took off her bra kept replaying inside your head. "Sure you're not hot? I can turn on the fan if you want."

"Oh thank you. I'd like that very much."

You stayed sitting on the bed hugging your knees while Mitsuri stood up to go turn on the fan. When you felt the cool breeze hit your skin, you couldn't help but close your eyes and lie down on the pillows while leaving your legs bent. You felt a movement on the mattress so you assumed that Mitsuri had returned to the bed but then she didn't move again and remained silent so you wonder if she was still there or had left the room so you opened your eyes to find out. When you opened your eyes, you caught Mitsuri looking directly at your thighs and between your legs, with your knees bent that way she could easily see your panties under your shorts. This definitely made you too nervous, you were about to sit down and close your legs but another thought came to your head faster. She was also watching you like you were a while ago so that got you a bit horny.

Your face was very red just like Mitsuri's when she felt trapped by you but despite that she didn't try to hide what she was doing or at least try to look a little shy so that only made you keep moving forward.

"All in order?" You asked, spreading your legs with the excuse that your knees were blocking the view of her face in front of you.

At this point it was quite likely that you didn't care anymore and both of you would completely lose your shame.

"What are you talking about?" Mitsuri asked, starting to crawl towards you on the mattress.

"You didn't stop looking at me, it's unfair if I have my eyes closed." You answer.

Sometimes you two used to joke around in similar ways but now, things were getting a bit further, you both subconsciously expected one of you to stop but you kept going. You kept your legs open and Mitsuri lay on your abdomen between them, causing your core to rub dangerously against her and feeling her breasts lean against you.

"Of course that's fair, you were looking at me too so now we're even." She said, making you blush.

Both of you fell silent, Mitsuri staring at you while you tried to look anywhere but her face and that included the low neckline of her t-shirt in front of you. Mitsuri moved in place, at first you thought that she was settling into her place or she would just get up and the class would continue but everything changed when you realized that she started rubbing on you provocatively. Mitsuri settled her legs on the bed keeping one straight and the other bent to rub her own core against her panties and the mattress making her large breasts massage over you. The position of her legs made her little skirt mess up, leaving her butt exposed, showing you her tight little lace panties.

You didn't say anything, you just gasped and spread your legs more so that she could fit better in the middle of you. She smiled at you with desire so that she felt more confident to move as she wanted. Mitsuri placed her arms on each side of you to hold on better and continue rubbing on the mattress and on top of you, she even had the courage to start panting a little just to annoy you and increase your blush. Mitsuri wouldn't stop looking at you and see doing this kind of thing made you feel too nervous and even more when she was so close to you; but you'd be lying if you thought this moment was weird or awkward, each passing minute turning you on more and more and just waiting for one thing to lead to the next. You wondered if at some point she was going to touch you.

"This feels s-so good..." Mitsuri gasped. She settled between your legs and lowered one of her hands to her panties to take them and rub them better against her wet core. "You've never tried this before y/n-chan?...it feels really good."

"N-no..." you managed to reply, feeling her breasts on you turned you on more and more besides the sight in front of you.

"Really? Never before?...self-satisfaction is just as important as self-love, girl." She told you.

You didn't know what to answer, Mitsuri settled back and took her hand out from between her legs. She held on to the mattress again and it was after that when she groped her hand directly between your legs inside your shorts, over your dressed cunt making you arch your back in surprise. You were about to say something but you didn't even have time because she started rubbing her fingers against your panties causing a lot of friction with each brush of the fabric.

"A-AAH!" You moaned, surprised to feel her fingers in your panties.

Hearing your voice like that made Mitsuri turn on more, causing her to start moving her fingers faster as well as her hips against the bed. With every movement, she could feel her wet panties brushing over and over again in the middle of her slit, right on her slippery clit. The feeling was perfect so she wanted you to experience it too.

"Y/n-chan...I want to make you feel really good, aah-ah." she moaned.

Mitsuri took her hand out of your panties for just an instant, grabbing your shorts and pulling them down over your hips and butt until she took them off and tossed them around, exposing your black lace panties fitting your pussy on her face.

The pink-haired girl's fingers took the center of your panties and she began to rub the fabric making sure that each touch was right on your clit just like she did until little by little you were wetting the fabric of your underwear; you even started to move your hips to get a better feel. Mitsuri noticed that you began to get wet very quickly and slowly began to moan in need.

"D-doesn't that feel amazing?" Mitsuri asked. "The rub on the clit is perfect-aah! I'm so-so wet! And you too...mmhh."

You were both about to cum if she continued like this, but Mitsuri didn't want this to happen, at least not yet. She wanted to try more things and at the same time make sure that you enjoyed it as much as she did. Mitsuri stopped and got up, tooked off her skirt and sat up to crawl over to you.

"Don't you think it would be better to feel…closer?" She proposed to you, biting her pink lip. She traced a line with her finger all over your slit, feeling your wet labia. "We are both very wet." You stayed in the same position and Mitsuri imitated it in front of you, legs spread and leaning on her arms on the bed. "I'd like to feel you…here" she said, spreading her legs and making her panties shift to let her cunt peek out from under the fabric.

"Then do it..." you replied.

Hearing that made her heart jump with happiness. Mitsuri came up to you and took your panties off, then she got rid of her panties as well and left them lying around. She took your thighs squeezing them sensually to accommodate your legs around her waist and make you hook her between your legs. She did the same and that's when you realized how flexible Mitsuri was when she spread your legs and hers and hooked you in the same way against the bed, letting her breasts crash against yours almost on your face. When he was in the position she wanted, she dropped putting some pressure on you and sat down so that her pussy was exactly on yours, making you moan when you felt his wet labia. Mitsuri leaned over and settled on your hips, holding onto her arms on either side of you and beginning to move her hips, slow movements in circles and back and forth. The contact between your most sensitive points was direct, the position of the open legs of both and each of the movements made your lips move and your cunts open to collide and slide against each other.

Wet sounds began to accompany your and her moans throughout the room, you moved your hips against Mitsuri's to cause more friction. Both cunts wet rubbing each other, your clit massaging against Mitsuri's was the most perfect sensation you've ever felt in your life. You looked up or squeezed your eyes but when you looked ahead and saw Mitsuri's neckline you completely sank in pleasure and didn't take your eyes off her. Her tits moved and bounced on you with each of her thrusts, her hard nipples standing out under her tight t-shirt. Mitsuri's movements began to get faster and faster, crashing and bouncing off of you, she began to grind her vagina against yours increasing the odds of bringing both of you an amazing orgasm. You realized something, Mitsuri's t-shirt was too small and her bust was too big, her boobs began to bounce more and more forcefully from her cleavage and seeing that made you crazy and she didn't seem to care at all; she just kept moving on you, getting wet on your vagina until the position she was in and her strong thrusts caused one of her breasts to come completely out of her clothes bouncing on you and then her other tit did the same. You didn't take your eyes off her, her pink nipples were rubbing on your chest so you decided to take them to massage them with your hands and make her as aroused as you were.

"Y-your boobs are so big-aah! I love them."

"You're also...a-aah- you're beautiful y/n-chan! Your little wet cunt is so cute ah-mnnh!" Mitsuri moved away from you a bit and took off her shirt, making her breasts bounce even more when she took it off. You didn't stop seeing her for a second, moving more.

When she returned to the position she was in, you put both hands directly on her butt to massage it and put some downward pressure so that your cunt was closer to hers, you squeezed and touched her ass making her moan for a long time until that you felt the need for more. Your left hand slid between her buttocks until it reached her wet pussy and your right hand began to play with your own pussy or the part that Mitsuri's couldn't cover, wetting the fingers of both hands, pumping your own hole and feeling this made Mitsuri squirm on top of you, leaning her head back moaning with all her might and moving faster on top of you. Your juices and hers splashed between her slippery cunt and your legs spread wider to rub you with each of her folds.

"AA-AH! Yy/n...y/n-chan! Mmghh-aah!! D-you think you're gonna cum already?"

You couldn't even answer because you were about to, you moved your hips hard to feel Mitsuri on your clit while you tightened around your fingers, you squeezed Mitsuri's ass again making her moan as you did when a warm sensation it went down from your abdomen straight into your pelvis.

"AAH-AAH MITSURI!! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! AAH!!"

Your legs spread wide, your back arched and a sticky white discharge shot straight out of your vagina drenching Mitsuri, causing her to do the same and cum in your pussy. Both wetting each other while she was still bouncing her pussy against yours in reaction to the orgasm until her speed slowed down.

Her thighs and yours were wet and sticky, you saw Mitsuri's breasts and as they glistened with sweat, sweat dripped from the back of your knees to your feet and your legs trembled as did your breath. Mitsuri lay down next to you and let both of you stretch out your legs after staying in that position for so long. Before she fully pulled away from you, you could see thin white threads coming from her cunt joining yours, leaving you wet and feeling slippery between your legs. Mitsuri's chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing, even though neither of you spoke it wasn't an awkward moment at all. You two looked into each other's eyes and different parts of your body at the same time. You didn't know what time it was, you even completely forgot the reason you were here, you saw the desk and looked at all your study material and then you saw the time on the clock next to the bed on a small table. 6:44 pm It was already getting dark outside and that worried you a bit.

"That was a very interesting lesson." You said, breaking the silence.

"We should repeat it another day, don't you think?" Mitsuri spoke, sensually.

"You think so? Then you won't be able to get me out of here that easily in a study session." You joked.

"You don't have to go today, I know it can be dangerous to go out at night so you can spend the night here..."

"You mean...a second round?" You said, getting up to approach Mitsuri.

"If that's what you want."

"Only if you let me go above you this time..." you replied, straddling her.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri #mitsuri x y/n #mitsuri x reader #mitsuri smut #mitsurikanrojismut #mitsurixfemreader #fem x fem #kimetsu no yaiba smut

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yuikomorii · 2 years

Note

Can we talk about something that I don’t really get. I’ve been in this fandom for a long time and I really can’t believe the fandom sees Yui as a girly girl.

I’m not saying it as something mean but she’s not like that in the slightest in the games. Not entirely tomboy but not girly either, she’s just a normal person who isn’t a stereotype and that’s what makes her special from other heroines I had seen.

Are people only seeing her as girly because she cooks and wears pink?! So do Reiji and Ruki and Kou wears that color too and that doesn’t make them any less manly. It feels like the fandom only likes their own version of Yui. She’s just an ordinary girl, and whoever does that misses the whole point of her character. She’s not the epitome of beauty nor girly, she’s made to be a normal girl with a f-ing good heart that can heal even the worst of the monsters. I apologize for making this so long, I would love to hear your thoughts admin because you seem one of the few real ones in this fandom and I love your blog ❤️

// Oh, someone finally understands! Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm glad there are people out there who can objectively analyze a character because everything you said there is true! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yui is not girly, and this has been confirmed numerous times in the games, but there is nothing wrong with that:

Yui was never interested in make-up until she saw how beautiful her Ryōtei Academy classmates were. Although, she abandoned the idea of wearing make-up later. In Kou's MB route, he does her make-up, which she didn’t really like because she believed she looked too different dolled up.

Yui had never tried nail polish before Ruki's DF heaven scenario.

Laito claims that after they started dating, he was surprised to discover that Yui wasn't good at girl stuff at all.

Yui isn’t really fond of elegant clothing; when Cordelia was in her body, she dressed her up in that lovely dark blue dress but Yui described it as “tight and uncomfortable”. The only reason she wore the outfits she did in the games was most likely because they were all pretty baggy and comfortable. Furthermore, not all of them are pink nor pastel-colored.

Her fashion sense is regarded as bad. She got a new dress in VC because the clothes she was wearing were called too "servant-like”.

She was sitting down at a ball when Reiji told her something, so she jumped up excited but almost fell down because she couldn't handle the heels.

She never puts on perfume. In Ayato's CL, she wore it for him, but he noticed her smell and said he preferred her natural one.

I also believe that people frequently confuse being girly with being feminine. Is Yui girly? No, she's not into girl stuff. Is she feminine? Of course, she's the heroine, and she's supposed to represent a girl, so she'd have some traditionally feminine personality traits like generosity, warmth, kindness, and empathy. However, it’s not like she can’t be loud, a klutz or not ladylike:

She’s confirmed to have a very loud voice. When hiding, her voice is every time said to be the loudest, even when she's whispering.

She's clumsy, and she definitely lacks grace (yet I find that cute).

She canonically doesn’t have a very good posture. Reiji and other characters complained about that at some point.

Remember, being feminine doesn’t only mean being quiet, soft-spoken, graceful, wise or chic; it includes a variety of other characteristics, and no one says you have to possess all of them to be considered feminine. 💕

#yui komori #diabolik lovers #dialovers #komori yui #admin

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ask-edd · 8 months

Note

i love how matt looks SHES JS SO PRETTY!!!!

I do appreciate the compliment, but I use he/him pronouns, actually. Despite my gorgeous (natural) lashes and girlish interests, I still was born as and maintain myself to be a man ♡

I believe CL calls it being Cis+; I've explored, but nothing fit better than what I had to begin with

#ask #eddsworld #ew matt

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whooambouttamakeanameformyself · 2 years

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okay so, since i don't see requests with this topic often, I wanted to request Eddie teaching his partner (gn) how to play dnd. If you need some more information: reader doesn't know shit about how to play dnd and they are interested in learning how to play from watching the Hellfire Clubs campaigns, and they ask Eddie to teach them how to play :D

((OMG YESSSSS! I love the idea of Eddie teaching the reader DnD!))

Learning from the best.

Eddie Munson x GN! Reader.

Warnings: fluff (mostly kisses and pet names)

Summary: See request above!

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

You were always excited for the Hellfire meetings even though you didn't know anything about DnD. Eddie always let you sit beside him so you could watch, you may not understand most of what was being said during the campaign but watching Eddie DM and watching how the party played always interested you.

Tonight Hellfire was meeting at Eddie's trailer for a major boss in their campaign and of course Eddie invited you, knowing how much you enjoyed watching them play. You got to his trailer at the same time as Dustin, who looked just as excited as you

"Hey, Y/N! You here to watch us kick some Boss ass?"

You nodded with a soft chuckle "Hell yeah! But don't get to confident, Eddie's got a verrrryyyy creative mind, he might just surprise you" you warned with a cheeky smile.

Dustin let out a laugh as he knocked on the door "Hah! Nothing can best us! You've seen us play!"

"And you think I understand what's going on? How do I know if you guys are good or not?" You nudge him playfully "I don't even know what Skill points are."

Dustin gives you a concerned look "You should really learn, it'd make watching Hellfire a hell of a lot more fun! Eddie might even let you join the campaign! Mike might have an issue with that though."

You were about to respond but the door opened to reveal a grinning Eddie "Ah! Henderson! Any word from Sinclair?" He moved to the side to let the two of you inside, catching you as you pass by, pulling you into a tight hug "Heya Sweetheart."

Dustin shook his head as he dropped his bag beside the door "Not coming. Again. Said he'd rather practice for his upcoming game."

Eddie shakes his head, reluctantly letting you go "I swear if he misses one more meeting-"

"Relax, Eds" you grab his hand, squeazing it gently.

Though Lucas couldn't make it that didn't stop the rest of the group continuing the campaign without him. Mike, Will, Erica, Gareth, and Jeff got to the trailer on time and Eddie started where they left off from the last meeting. You were sat right beside Eddie, watching the group figure out a strategy before entering the boss fight.

Every so often Eddie would hand you a dice with 20 sides ( a dice you later found out was called a D20) and tell you to roll for damage done to the party (also I'm sorry if some of these terms are wrong, I'm still a beginner myself)

You'd reluctantly roll and much to the dismay of the party the dice would always land on a fairly high number. You were never really sure why you were rolling the dice or what happened when you did but Eddie always smiled and gave you a hug when you rolled a high number.

It took several hours but the group narrowly defeated the boss thanks to a critical hit from Erica.

Eddie smiled brightly "Excellent work boys and girl, you've defeated the Lich, now you may claim your treasure and we will continue our campaign next week."

You stayed behind to help Eddie clean up, thinking about what Dustin said earlier while picking up all the trash. Could you possibly learn to play DnD? It looked like so much fun, and it would be cool to play with Eddie.

"Hey Eddie?" You looked over at him nervously.

"Yes, Sweetheart?" He looked back at you curiously "something wrong?"

You shake your head "Not really... but... can you teach me to play DnD?"

He froze, hoping- no, praying that he heard you right "You... want me.. to teach you DnD?"

You nodded with a sweet smile "Yup! That is if you're willing to..." you were about to go back to cleaning but Eddie stopped you by pulling you into a near bone crushing hug "Oh my god I thought youd never ask! I was hoping you'd want to learn! I can teach you and we can do some solo campaigns to bring up your levels and such!" He was talking so fast you could barely understand him. You let out a soft giggle as you returned the hug "clam down, I don't want you fainting from being too excited!"

He insisted on starting that night even though it was already late. He helped you fill out your character sheet, explaining what each thing was and how everything worked. "I'd start as a half elf since that gives you the ability to speak different languages, usually I'd suggest starting as a fighter but you'd probably do better with a mage."

He helped you pick your first weapons and come up with some starter spells, then is was on to rules and game play. There weren't many rules and the game play was a little confusing, but after a few practice runs you were actually getting the hang of it. This went on until the early hours of the morning when neither of you could keep your eyes open any longer. You both falling asleep on his bed as soon as you closed your eyes.

End?

((Sorry this took so long! I had a really hectic week and I just got to writing again.

On another note I've been thinking about recording some Eddie × Listener stuff for YouTube if anyone would be interested, I just have to figure out what stuff I need XD))

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #stranger things

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httpsserene · 2 months

Note

Jealous sex with Charles 🤩

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔

summary: there’s no reason for charles to be jealous of men who are stupid enough to think they have a chance with you. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. jealous sex. tennis. monte carlo masters winner stefanos tsitsipas used as a plot device. porn with a side of plot. mildly possesive!charles leclerc. jealousy. reader’s kindness is misunderstood for flirting. no infidelity. vaginal sex. unprotected sex(don’t do that!). fingering. missionary & cowgirl. rough(ish?) sex. the clothes stay on. uhm, reader gets railed stupid, lowkey. cumplay (i’m so sorry). pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bpoc!reader word count: 2.8k words.

from serene: surprised i finished this when i said i would. to make a long story short, i’m breaking up with my boyfriend 🤪✌🏽ANYWAYS, i listened to the beauty behind the madness and my dear melancholy albums by the weekend to lock in the smexxy vibes. idk if it worked, it took me two days to write less than 3k words 🙂 y’all lmk if you think the wait was worth it, and enjoy reading lovelies x

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The car ride home was quiet. You figured it was post-tennis exhaustion keeping your boyfriend quiet; the entire match was viewed with the Monte Carlo sun radiating down on the stands. Secondarily, the silence could’ve been induced by a little social exhaustion even though Charles thrives in crowds—the two of you spent a couple of hours before the match chatting to anyone who approached him, which felt like every person at the event had to have his attention for a brief moment. Then after the match, the two of you spent another hour speaking with the Master’s Winner, Stefanos, and the Prince, before you were able to take your exit.

So, you attributed his low energy to being sun-tired and talked-out. In retrospect, you should’ve known that it was more than fatigue from how Charles failed to put his hand on your thigh as he drove, and how he sat through slow-crawling traffic without ever moving to turn on music or talk. Your weariness prevented you from prodding further when the Monegasque responded with a nearly inaudible hum when asked if he was tired—the lack of presence in his answer felt like confirmation.

Yet, you realize it wasn’t an answer at all when you entered your home.

Your comments and questions about the match and dinner plans were met with one-word answers and off-timed hums of indifference in response. It’s not until the two of you are in your bedroom getting unready that Charles speaks more than a single word.

“Stefanos was nice, wasn’t he?”

You pause in your action of taking off an earring, a puzzled tilt to your brow at the odd tone his words took, eyes examining him in the reflection of your vanity’s mirror. He stares down at his forearm as he unclasps his watch, his expression unreadable from his side profile.

“Yes…he was,” you answer slowly, your confusion growing as you see Charles’ jaw clench, “I didn’t imagine him to be so, normal, I guess? After winning the Monte Carlo Masters, of all things. And, he’s done it three times! I mean, that’s incredible, no? For him to be so friendly and relaxed after was nice, I think.”

You rambled endlessly, the feeling that you’ve talked yourself into a corner flaring at the base of your skull. Charles turned to face you fully, shrugging his suit jacket off and calmly placing it on top of the dresser, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt before he leaned to rest against the furniture as well.

“Ah,” the hair on the nape of your neck rises at the sound, you continue to remove your necklaces with hesitant fingers, “Did he charm you into being your favorite tennis player today, mon amour?”

A humorous scoff escapes your lips, “You know I’m not a fan of tennis. But, if there happens to be a match playing within my view, and he’s playing, I suppose I would want him to win. I wouldn’t say I was ‘charmed,’ I just think he’s a nice man.”

“I think you were too nice to him.”

You slowly place your diamond-studded, golden tennis chain away before your eyes flicker back to meet Charles’ in the reflection of the mirror. You raise a brow, unsure how to respond to his statement. Intelligently, you’ve deduced that he’s jealous, which is odd—considering he’s Charles Leclerc, the prettiest, sweetest, and kindest man on the face of the Earth, in your humble opinion. Stefanos doesn’t hold a candle compared to your boyfriend. Your fingers struggle to undo the clasp of your final necklace; the gold, diamond-paved, Cartier necklace with Charles’ name carved on the back—it was expensive enough that he refused to tell you the price when he gifted it, only saying that “the cost was nothing compared to the love he has for you,” the smooth-talker.

“Arrête,” he speaks firmly, pushing off the dresser and making his way towards you, his dress shoes clicking on the floor sending your heartbeat racing. He stops mere centimeters behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back.

“Leave it on,” he murmurs, darkened eyes running over your form in the mirror indulgently.

You do as he says, arms shakily lowering to rest at your sides, fingers tugging at the hem of your sundress as your heart skips and body flushes with heat. The Monegasque reaches around you to center the necklace on your clavicle, the sensation of his fingertips barely ghosting across your brown skin has your mouth parting with an inaudible gasp.

“If only he knew that you wear my name locked around your neck,” the brunette pondered aloud, “Maybe then he would remember that your pretty eyes, sweet giggles, and flirty words are for me—since you seemed to forget.”

“I was not f-flirting with him!” You stutter over the word as if it were an insult.

“You were not,” Charles sounds like he agrees, “But, you know very well that people mistake your kindness as more than that. It’s happened before, no?”

It has happened before. More than you can count. The number of men who mistake politeness and your overall niceness for interest is frightening; you don’t want anybody but Charles.

“What was I supposed to say to Stefanos? Nothing? Should I have just ignored him? And stood at your side quietly like I was just there for decoration?” Your tone peaks with annoyance, heated at the idea of being reduced to an accessory.

“No,” his voice cuts through your train of thought, “You should’ve agreed with me when I mentioned we needed to leave after he said ‘the only thing he’s missing to celebrate is a beautiful woman’ as he stared directly at you—instead of forcing me to stay for another twenty minutes to talk.”

Your mouth drops open disbelievingly, a scoff following a few moments later when you slowly realize that Stefanos wasn’t interested in being set up with one of your friends as he asked. You should’ve known when he asked if you had a twin sister he could meet.

“Okay, in hindsight, I can see that he was flirting,” you clarify, “But, I definitely was not. You know in that entire conversation, I was just being polite—and I made you stay for longer because the Prince wanted to talk to you. Not because I was entertaining a man who doesn’t respect my relationship with you!”

“You were being polite when he kissed your hand?”

“Yes! I thought that was just him laying it on thick?”

“He’s not royalty,” Charles snorts, “The only person allowed to put their lips on you is me.”

“You keep talking about who’s ‘allowed’ to do anything to me and you’ll very quickly find out that I’m ‘allowed’ to reconsider this relationship if you continue speaking about me as if you own me.”

“I don’t own you,” Charles pauses, and a smile spreads across his lips, dimples deepening in his cheeks, nearly forcing you to forget your previous statement as you admire them in the vanity mirror, “But—you own me.”

You turn around quickly at the words, breath stuttering at the lack of space between you two. Tilting your head upwards, you examine your boyfriend’s face with narrowed eyes and cheeks burning so hot the red flush is apparent. His smile has softened to a smirk, his eyebrows laced with a smug undertone, his pupils blown wide enough for you to have to focus to see the green ring around them. You languidly raise a hand to trace a finger across the edge of his jawline, then cupping your hand along the side of his face, gently resting your thumb in the indent of his dimple. Your chest tightens when Charles leans into your palm, slowly shifting to press a kiss on your wrist before nudging you back to holding his face.

Sighing gently, you shake your head, “What do you want from me?”

“Je veux que tu me laisses baiser ma jalousie sur toi, s'il te plaît.”

“S-say it slower please,” you request meekly, “I think I heard you wrong.”

“I want you to let me fuck my jealousy out,” Charles emphasizes each word slowly, his tone becoming teasing as he sees you fluster with each added syllable, “Ple–”

Your lips meet his desperately, your other hand flying upwards to grasp at his shoulder when you feel his laughter through the kiss. You’re sure his amusement is multiplied as you try to dominate the kiss, even as you rise on the tips of your toes and arch your body towards his. Needily, you whine into his mouth as he refuses to meet your rushed rhythm, digging your nails into the meat of his broad shoulders to convey your urgency.

The Monegasques’ hold on your waist turns rough and you pull backward with a gasp when he pinches the skin of your arm. You glower at him in displeasure but it’s quick to fade as he guides you back to his lips with a heavy hand on the nape of your neck. His thumb and pointer finger are weighted from their position at the base of your skull, directing the tilt and movement of your head as he licks into your mouth and bruises your swollen lips further with pressure and stings of teeth.

He walks himself backward, one hand firm on your hip to guide you with him, the other rucking up the skirt of your sundress and sliding underneath to tug your panties down your legs with ease. You kick the fabric off your ankles distractedly, falling to straddle Charles’ lap as soon as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand slips between the cradle of your thighs, cupping along your warmth and toying within your folds.

“Wet for me already,” he discovers delightedly, breaking the kiss to suck a mark into the sensitive skin behind your left ear and peppering more nips and teases of teeth down the stretch of your neck. Hisses of pleasure slip from your parted lips and you slant your hips forward to guide Charles’ fingers inside. You exhale breathily at the slide of a single finger in your cunt, rolling down onto his hand when you deem his pace too slow.

“Another, please,” you beg, moaning throatily when your boyfriend fulfills your plea without hesitation.

Two fingers turn into three, and three fingers turn into Charles flipping you over and pushing you into the bed so he can hover over you. With rushed hands, you both shove the zipper of his slacks and the hem of his briefs low for him to slip his cock out and press into you. The brunette shudders as he sinks within your depths, falling to his elbows, your moans and gasps of breath spilling into the same pocket of air when his hips rest against the back of your thighs.

“M-move, please, Cha,” you cry, knees pressing into his sides and body rolling upwards to get a glimpse of friction during his stillness.

Charles drops his head to quiet you with a chaste kiss before matching the rhythm of your rocking hips, his rumbling groans quieted by your lips. He holds himself steady on one arm while he uses the other to reach above your head and drag a pillow downwards, tapping your ass briefly to wordlessly command you into rising upwards as he slips the cushion underneath you. As soon as the pillow is properly positioned, Charles’ slow grinds are exchanged for slamming thrusts, sharp flares of pain-dipped pleasure shooting up your spine and tightening the knot in your navel. Your breath is lost quickly and you struggle to recover, eyes screwing shut and exhales of expletives and whimpers of encouragement are all you can offer.

The Monegasque roughly slides his hand down your leg and grasps you by the ankle digging into the small of his back to keep him close, moving it to rest over his shoulder, and letting his hand fall to squeeze at your thigh for purchase as the change of position tightens the fluttering channel of your cunt around him. This angle feels like he’s digging deeper inside you; one of your hands scrambling to drag your nails down his toned back while the other fists in his hair as you shriek high-pitched into the heated air between your bodies.

“All mine,” you can feel the possessive lilt to his tone rumble through the thin skin of your throat as he sucks along the rapid beat of your pulse. Your nails decorate his back with red scores and it has Charles biting out sharp putain’s and rabbiting his cock into you forcefully, yet remaining conscious enough to realign his thrusts as he bullies his way inside of you to pound against your g-spot. His leaned forward position stretches the limits of your comfortable flexibility, but it allows his pelvis to barely scrape against your clit, sending a wave of overstimulating pleasure to your brain, your eyes rolling as the sensation knocks any form of rational thought from your brain.

He pauses to tug the front of your dress down, the hem tucked under the spill of your breasts. His fingers flick teasingly over a pebbled nipple while he folds himself lower to drag his tongue against the other and nip small marks around your areola. You fight against the assault on your chest; arching your back towards and away from him—chasing and running away from the pleasure simultaneously, yet you continue to grind onto his cock.

“Charles, f-fuck, lemme–uhuh—lemme ride ‘ou,” you whine out incoherently, pushing at his shoulder with a closed fist, hoping he’ll understand your slurred words as your tongue begins to feel heavy.

Your boyfriend pulls away from your breasts in question, panting roughly as he stares up at you to see a pure look of want in your dampened eyes, lashes clumped together and brown skin flushing deeper when the eye contact is held unendingly. You know that Charles debated denying your request, or at least thought about making you beg for it, but he decides to kneel and drag you upwards into his lap without a fight. He allows you a brief respite to adjust your legs and anchor your arms over his shoulders, then tightens the hold of his hands on your waist, fingertips sure to leave indents as he assists your first upward motion, before solidly dragging you back down.

The strength you regained in your legs from the short break disappears, knees weakening and body slumping into Charles’ chest, your head drooping to rest in the crook of his neck.

Charles steadies your head and tilts you back gently, checking in, “Is this too much, mon amour? We can stop.”

“No,” you murmur, “You fucked the feeling out of my legs, Cha.”

He laughs warmly, situating his hands on your ass to direct your motions, the tone of his voice light as he coos, “‘s okay, mon coeur—I’ll do all the work.”

You brush your nose along his, moaning softly at the sweetened drag of his cock. Charles chases your bitten lips, groaning lowly as he deepens his thrusts, fingers dipping to circle your clit—always ensuring your release is prioritized. Your thighs begin to shake and his thrusts skip beats as he begins to near the precipice as well. Shuddering, you gasp into his mouth, attempting to alert him to your nearing orgasm but you’re unable to speak the words.

“It’s okay, mon amour,” your boyfriend soothes, “Cum for me—I’ve got you.”

“yesyesyes,” you babble mindlessly, Charles continuing to pound into you, not slowing the search for his release now that you’re orgasm is imminent. A few well-angled jabs of your g-spot and you’re gone; release frying your nerve endings and vision blurring as your boyfriend continues to ride your high to its very end.

The Monegasque pulls out the moment your hips fight his hold, dropping his hand drenched with your pleasure from your clit to grab his cock, and with one stroke, he spills. Charles paints your navel and inner thighs white with whimpering moans, and lilted French. He milks himself into over-sensitivity, only stopping when the orgasmic relief shifts into pain. He kisses you on the cheek as he drags a finger through his cum pooled between your thighs. His hand rises to your mouth and he hums approvingly as your lips part and suckle his spend clean off.

“Hm,” Charles sounds, staring down at the claim he’s spilled, his free hand rubbing his cum along your navel, “All mine.”

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x you #serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: cl.

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httpsserene · 3 months

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I have been having SUCH a thought since the Thigh Riding, and I NEED to tell you.

We know reader has been loving Max and Charles’ thighs, but have you seen those silicone thigh toys? They’re basically ridged pads you strap to your thigh and…well you can guess what they do with them.

I just- I feel like it would elevate it, their sweet girl opening up to the world of toys whilst in the comfort of something she loved.

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 | 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞

summary: all my (terrified and oversensitive) homies hate vibrators!! max and charles introduce you to something better. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. vibrators. thigh riding. sex toys. non-penetrative sex. edging. praise kink. corruption kink. dom/sub undertones. coming untouched. sub!charles. sub!reader. dom!max. pairing: max verstappen x charles leclerc x fem!black!reader word count: 2.4k words.

author’s notes: this is from december 2023, jesus christ. about fucking time right, @vetteltea? this has been haunting me in my sleep ever since this hit my inbox, now it’s y’all’s problem too < 333 psss, next post will either be toasty part two (toto) or a smau xxx

(if you’re unsure about what these specific thigh toys are, don’t worry, i would link an example but idk if that would get me put in tblr jail and i’m on thin ice with my mentions, tags, and even dms not working :| look up “grinding pad sex toy” to get an idea of what i’m referencing in this fic. )

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You’ve deeply repressed the memory of your orgasm-deprived outburst that kick started your sexual exploration with Max and Charles. Vaguely, you can remember saying that you possibly considered the thought of buying a vibrator to get yourself off since riding your pillow wasn’t enough anymore.

[…you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one)...]

[…you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating…”]

Charles was right. You didn’t have to go streaking or buy a sex toy to get off, your boyfriends took care of you. That night, you were satisfied by riding Max’s thigh. Then a few days later, you learned how to pleasure your men with handjobs. A couple of days after that you were fingerfucked into an altered mental state, then followed up with watching Charles cum untouched as Max ate him out. You had Max’s mouth on you next and weeks later in a Spanish villa, you allowed them to take your virginity.

The five days you three spent in that villa were filled with pleasure, as Max and Charles fulfilled every request of yours without question. In bed, on the sofa, from the kitchen floor to the dining table, from the hot tub to the bathroom shower, horizontally, vertically, parabolically, from dusk to dawn—the two years of relationship you had without sexual intimacy had been put to rest. The understanding, the vulnerability, and the trust rooted within everyone had led to that moment. It was worth it.

So, one would understand your confusion when Max drops the idea of sex toys in conversation with you and Charles on a random morning. With an audible noise of confusion, you tilt your head up at him adorably, and genuinely question, “Why would I use a toy when I have you two?” Your tummy tightened when that sentence caused Charles to look at you with dripping molten eyes and Max’s mumbled grumble about corrupting your innocence goes unheard. Minutes later, you were bent over the kitchen island, the skirt of your sundress shoved up around your waist, and your white panties dangling off of one ankle as they took turns eating you out. Needless to say, you forgot about the subject of conversation the moment they knocked your legs open.

Eventually, they do manage to have a chat about toys without it devolving into sex.

“Schat,” Max grabbed your attention, the clink of his silverware resting on his plate further interrupted your focus on spinning pasta onto your fork.

“Yes, Maxy?” you responded, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“After this discussion, we will never bring this up again if you are adamantly against the idea,” you brought your fork to your lips, munching away with a look of puzzlement, the Dutchman continued, “But, Charlie and I were talking…and we think, that—with your approval, of course—that there’s a chance you may enjoy experiencing and learning about sex toys, and how good they can make you feel. As long as either one of us is using them on you—and, with your hatred of them—they’re also not vibrators.”

You choked on your pasta, Charles making a noise of surprise as he rushed forward to pat you on the back.

Airways now cleared, you looked at Max with watery eyes, “There was not enough foreshadowing to let me know where the conversation was going. And, fuck vibrators. They are way too strong.”

The Monegasque’s eyes brightened with humor, “Hm. I think vibrators are nice, especially when they’re in Max’s hand.”

“You’re a menace and a freak,” the older man responded, “And she’s chronically sensitive. Don’t tease.”

Charles tugged at one of your curls, chuckling as he saw the brown skin of your cheeks redden.

“I mean,” you paused to play fight with your boyfriend, batting his hand from your hair cutely, “You guys haven’t been wrong with anything you’ve introduced me to. If you think that I might enjoy something…I guess I can try it. And, you’ll stop if I tell you to, right?”

“Always, mon ange.” “Of course, liefje.”

“Okay, then. I just don’t think there’s a toy that I’ll like?”

A smirk spread across Max’s lips when he glanced over at Charles, like they knew something you didn’t. His blue eyes were alight with humor as they looked back at you, “Let us worry about that.”

You did such a good job of letting your boyfriends “worry about sex toys” that you ended up forgetting the conversation happened. Until tonight, when you walked into your bedroom to see Charles on the bed completely naked, save for—what appears to be, a pink silicone pad strapped around his tanned, muscular thigh.

You freeze in the doorway, mouth parted, struggling to process the sight in front of you. The brunette is ruined. His hair is damp with sweat, strands of curls stuck to his forehead, and green eyes moist with dried tear tracks painting the ruddiness of his cheeks. His lips are bitten red, swollen, and moist with his spit—Max’s too. The bruises start on his collarbone, deep red marks brush along his clavicle and pecs, and there are visible imprints of teeth around his right nipple. Traces of Max’s unforgiving grip are painted on his waist, thumbprints obvious to your eyes. His cock looks painful; burning red, twitching randomly, the vein on his underside raised, and precome has been leaking out of his tip for a while if the puddle by the base is any telling.

Employing his skill for perfect timing, the en-suite door opens, and Max steps into the room with a bottle of lube in his hand.

“Charlie?” Max coos, walking over to the delirious man, pouting sympathetically when the brunette’s head falls forward to rest on his hip, ruffling his hair and scratching along his scalp. “Aren’t you going to thank our pretty girl for putting an end to your torture?”

“–rci, merci,” the exhausted man mumbles messily. Max hums in content, dropping the lube on the bed and gesturing for you to come closer. Tripping over your feet in haste to follow his order, you ask softly, “How long have you had him like this?”

“Around forty-five minutes,” Max shrugs, dismissively, “He was getting too excited as we waited for you to join us.”

Swallowing shakily, you inquire, “Excited about what?

“Your new sex toy.”

You gasp and Max’s eyes flutter across your face as he gages your reaction. Max sees you shift on your feet and casts look downward; your thighs are pressed together for friction—you’re aroused.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes, Max.”

The Dutchman smiles at you, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and leans forward to press a multitude of chaste kisses on your lips, laughing lowly when you whine with displeasure as he ignores your attempts to deepen them. “You’re being so brave for me. Take your clothes off, pretty girl.”

Bare in the blink of an eye, you look at your older boyfriend for his next direction.

“Our Charlie,” Max starts, helping the fucked-out man sit up straight, “Has been so kind to volunteer his thigh to you. Strapped around it,” he pauses to slap his hand down beneath the toy, smirking at Charles’ delayed yelp, and squeezing the meat of his muscle warmly, “Is a ridged silicone pad designed to simulate the vulva and clit as you grind. The waves and spikes of silicone are malleable and soft,” Max drags his finger across them demonstratively, “and are smooth and bouncy as you slide across it, allowing for a continuous rubbing sensation—I did my research.”

Giggling nervously as your eyes flicker between Charles’ cock and the daunting pink slab of plastic, “I can tell. Um—I just ride it like it’s his thigh?”

Max nods and offers you his hand for stability as you move to straddle the pad. Charles blinks, raising trembling hands to rest on your hips, staring at you with hazy eyes. You sigh, tangling your hand in the nape of his hair and using it to pull him forward into a kiss. His lips are clumsy but eager as they move against yours, whimpers muffled into your mouth and beard scratching along your chin. He tries to tug you downwards to have you firmly sit on the pad but is halted by Max.

“Greedy, both of you,” Max snorts, picking up the forgotten bottle of lube and uncapping it to lightly drizzle some on the toy's surface, “I know you get wetter than the ocean but, better safe than sorry.”

He pats you on the ass in encouragement, and you shake your head with shame as you lower yourself down on the silicone, draping your arms around Charles’ shoulders and pausing to acquaint yourself with the new feeling. The chill of the lube startles you but aside from that, the toy is…comfortable. The raised hump sits perfectly against the curvature of your cunt and already, you’re anticipating the focused stimulation it will provide.

Max sits behind Charles and the bed sinks under his weight, barely jostling the Monegasque’s thigh. However, it’s enough of a movement that it causes one of the soft spikes to clip your clit, pushing a quiet noise of surprise from your lips.

“Oh,” you murmur airily.

Trying to hide the quirk of his lips, Max leans forward to whisper directly into Charles’ ear, “This seems awfully familiar to the first time she rode my thigh, no?”

You whimper audibly, knowing that he purposefully spoke loud enough for you to hear his words. Refusing to fixate on Charles’ reply, you circle your hips, breath catching as the various textures set your nerves ablaze. You understand that Max added the lube to prevent any unwanted roughness—it’s rendered unnecessary as your arousal starts to leak. Digging your nails into the younger man’s back, you rock your hips back and forth slowly, moaning freely as the waves are a consistent friction against your labia.

“It’s–fuck—i-it’s good.”

“Stuttering already,” Max tuts, and you feel the heat in your cheeks radiate down to your bouncing chest. Your rhythm roughens; dragging yourself along the toys in desperation, toes curling at every random press of the spikes against your outer lips and clit. Charles gasps in relief, your quickened pace causing his cock to bounce and rub against his abdomen in his puddle of precome. He gets lucky on every few grinds when you undulate forwards and his cock bounces to glide against your navel. His hands grip firmly around your hips and shove them into a jerkier motion, keeping you close to him so his reddened length can be soothed against your skin constantly.

The change in angle and position has caused the spikes to form a barrage around your clit and the waves drag over your entrance, teasing you with the feeling of being opened up. Dropping your head to hide your face in Charles’ neck, you muffle your pitchy moans and shrieks by tasting the sweat beading on his skin.

“I’m jealous, schatje,” Max speaks, “I almost want to pull her off of your thigh and have her sit on my face.”

Fresh tears spill from Charles’ eyes as he begs, “N-no-no—mmmph—please, ‘m close.”

Your hips start to rabbit against the toy, and the texture between your legs is overwhelming but too pleasurable to consider slowing.

Max yanks Charles’ head backward with a fist in his hair, “Do you want to cum, Charlie?”

The man in question babbles incoherently, chest trembling from lack of oxygen as he continues to sob; he tries to nod, but can’t, thanks to Max’s firm grip. The burning of his scalp doesn’t subdue him, it encourages him to keep tugging so the pain floods endorphins through his body.

“You know what to say,” Max states calmly, the words sending shivers down your spine. Your own body starts to tingle as you taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue; you’re too delighted at the new sensations to let any embarrassment build from reaching the edge quickly.

Charles struggles to get his tongue, lips, and vocal cords to cooperate. You see a frantic look light in his eyes, sure he’s trying to puzzle out what language he’s sane enough to communicate in. He manages to verbalize sounds that could be likened to Max’s name if you brush past his whimpers and cries.

“Plea–,” Charles tries to push the word out pitifully, “—ah, sss'il te pla—” his cock bumps against your navel, and his words cut off, eyes rolling back before he can finish begging.

A humorous laugh leaves Max; this is the easiest way Max has ever made the younger man lose his speech. He softens, and gives into the pillow prince, “You did so good, Charlie. You tried your hardest for me, yeah? You begged so prettily tonight, almost as pretty as you look. Such a good boy, Charles. You can cum.”

Strikingly, the approval works for both you and Charles. Twin cries of pleasure erupt as your orgasms blur your vision and burn through your muscles. The feeling of Charles’s cum splattering against your stomach sends another burst of light through your skin as you continue to grind fitfully on the silicone pad. A lake of wetness puddled on the poor man’s thigh, that squelches as you move.

Charles is rendered silent as his cock continues to pulse even when the flow of his release ceases. Max brings his hand down to squeeze at his base and Charles releases a choppy scream as it pushes another couple of ribbons out of him. His hips thrust upwards with every string, forcing hisses of over sensitivity to slip from you as it drags the soaked pad against your cunt. You would happily crawl off his thigh, but you haven’t regained feeling in your legs yet.

Thankfully, Charles deflates back into Max, his cock finally softening and slowly losing some of its flush. Tears start to leak from his eyes again, his chest shuddering through little sobs. You whimper softly at his tears and Max pulls you both to rest comfortably in the bed, as he shushes you two through the comedown. When the tears, shivers, and shakes halt, a pleased tilt of lips rises to Charles's face as his eyes dance between you and Max.

The Dutchman unclips the toy from Charles’s thigh and smirks at the wet peeling noise that sounds.

“So…I assume this toy has your approval?”

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x max verstappen #charles leclerc x max verstapen x reader #lestappen #poly!f1 #charles leclerc smut #max verstappen smut #f1 x black!reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #max verstappen x black!reader #charles leclerc fic #max verstappen fic #serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: cl.#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: mv.

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httpsserene · 9 months

Text

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

summary: tonight, innocent and virgin!reader will be defiled, deflowered, tarnished—whichever word you prefer. from the moment she told them she was ready to lose her virginity, they’ve been carefully planning out a special night, for her. and shockingly, there’s not an ounce of fear, anxiety, or doubt in her mind—max and charles have gained her complete trust. they haven’t given her a single reason to believe that they wouldn’t treat her right. she couldn’t have asked for better men to take her virginity—if this is corruption, she’s delighted to experience it. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. safe sex. penetrative vaginal sex. corruption kink. oral sex. cunnilingus. multiple orgasms. fingering. handjobs. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. sweetheart charles leclerc. sweetheart max verstappen. word count: 3.1k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: wet dreamz • j.cole

preface: word to my mother, i've gained 400 followers from this series alone and that terrifies me. because it means a 2k special is coming soon, and this was a crazy experience, and me thinks i'm not ready to do it again so soon. thank you for the love on this series, and i might do little snippet pieces for it in the future, but goddamn do i need to sleep for a few days to make up for the sleep i lost getting this done lol. enjoy loves, send me plenty asks about this series and i'll respond when i have the time!

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your thighs are mottled with bruises and bites, some sensitive enough that you can feel the skin throb. charles–who’s came twice–looks deliciously delirious in between your legs. his green eyes are wide and glassy, solely locked onto your cunt. his parted lips are swollen and flushed red from his generous treatment of your inner thighs. his hands have a tight grip on the tops of your legs, his veins popping at the force of his grip as they keep you spread open enough–your heart stutters as you realize he’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints and palms on you too. you see the muscles of his shoulders and biceps straining to reach your tantalizing warmth splayed out right in front of his face but, he’s held back with max’s hand firmly keeping his head pulled backwards.

“charles, give her at least two. you’re welcome to use your fingers.”

max releases his grip, and charles rushes forward to taste the wetness that’s already leaked from your pussy. the monegasque’s moan is muffled against you, but it still manages to be the same volume as the shocked moan that escapes you. eagerly, the younger man drags his tongue through your folds, relishing in the plush pinkness he never wants to leave, and shifts to suckle on the hood of your clit. you cry out, back arching at the focused pleasure–and max sighs. he sees the drool from charles’ overeager perusal leak out of the corner of his mouth; he’s glad he put down the towel you told him to get. sure, max is well aware that you tend to drip like a broken faucet but, charles can tend to get a little…messy, when he’s using his mouth.

charles pulls your first orgasm from using all of his energy dragging his tongue across your labia frantically, pausing either to draw rapid circles against your clit or tease the entrance of your cunt without pushing his tongue in. you shudder forcefully, hands flying down not to pull the monegasque off of you, no, but to keep his mouth on you. it’s not like he needed the help—he wasn’t going to pull off until max tore him away. regardless, he is mindful of your oversensitivity, and slows the assault of his tongues to slow swipes, humming deeply at the gush of wetness that seeps into his mouth. and when your thighs stop fighting against his hands keeping you spread open, when he feels the tensed muscles go dormant—he pushes his tongue into you, happy your orgasm caused you to relax and allow him to slip in.

and, this is when you lose your mind.

his tongue is dexterous, firm, and unyielding, his plush lips brush against the outside of your cunt and only causes more bolts of pleasure to rocket up your spine. he’s unrelenting–he moves with the overwhelmed bucking of your hips, you’re not sure if you’re trying to move away or move closer, and it doesn’t matter because charles follows you without the solution of his moth slipping away once. he whines highly into your pussy, and the vibration only has you making sounds to mimic him. your tummy undulates, tensing and relaxing with every thrust of his tongue, and he shifts one of his hands away from your thigh to push down on your navel. he changes the angle of his head and his nose bumps against your clit from the force of his jaw working against your entrance.

the combination of the clit stimulation and the pressure on your navel, causes your eyes to roll back with a heaving chest, the orgasm dancing somewhere on the back of your eyes.

“such a pretty girl,” max adds from where his eyes are stuck on your cunt, and you cum.

the towel underneath you has a wet spot spreading, and charles allows your thighs to shut around his head as your hips push up dragging your pussy on the lower half of his face to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. this feels twice as intense as the first, and based on the way you can hear your blood rushing in your ears, and feel your heart beating in the back of your knee, you know you’ll never settle for riding a thigh again.

you attempt to squirm away from his mouth, hips twisting desperately to try and escape the pain-tinted pleasure of charles’ talented tongue, but the man follows every shift of your motions, with his half-lidded eyes giving the expression of him being entranced. it does end up taking max forcing charles away from you when the tears gathered in your waterline spill down your cheeks. and the sharp flare of pain from max tugging at his hair, clears the haze in charles' eyes and the cotton stuffed in his ears.

if his lips were swollen before, you don’t know what to call the state of them now. you screw your eyes shut to avoid looking at the pleased glimmer in his eyes, it only makes a surge of arousal peek out again.

“schatje, i said you could use your fingers too,” max prods at charles’ shoulder with a pout on his face.

“i,” the man says airly, “didn’t need to. i made her cum twice, like you wanted me to.”

“ah, well, move out of the way, cha,” max hums throatily, “if you didn’t use your fingers, i guess i’ll have to,” your eyes fly open as you look at max in surprise, “do you think she can handle a few more?”

the monegasque pulls back, allowing max to fill the space without arguing, and looks away from him to pierce you with a lustful glance, “she knows what to say if she wants us to stop. let’s find out her limit tonight, maxy.”

they’ve broken you. max and charles said they got you to five orgasms that night, but you don’t really remember anything after the fourth. you vaguely recall charles eating you out while max rubbed at your clit (it was a hot image, there’s no way you’d forget that), but anything over four orgasms you can’t expect to process.

however, the night was such a pleasure even if you can’t remember the last half of it—they’ve absolutely erased your fear of oral. or, sex in general. you say they’ve “broken you,” because they actually have, it feels like your eyes have been peeled open wide from how they’ve indulged you. you thought it was bad enough when you gave yourself a friction burn when you were humping them like a dog in heat, but this is objectively worse.

charles emerges from his gaming room after his stream to refill his water bottle and you drop to your knees in the middle of the kitchen to give him head. max makes a comment about how addicting you taste over dinner and you shove the plates to the side to climb on the table and let him eat you out like a buffet. charles is losing a game of fifa to max, so you gave him a hand and stuffed a hand down max’s pants to give him an advantage (he still lost, so it was just a convenient excuse to get the dutch off).

most recently, you and the men were laying in bed, letting your breathing slow down and the sweat cool after you let your legs fall open for them wordlessly.

“it’s clear i trust you both with my entire being, right?”

charles and max pause their quiet chatter and turn to look at you, “oui, “ “of course.”

“ok, well: i want you to take my virginity,” the two gape at your blunt words, “it’s what this has been leading to, and i said on the very first night that i was ready to have sex with you. i trust you guys, and i’m ready.”

max, for all he likes to run his mouth, is silent. charles picks up his slack.

“thank you for trusting us, mon coeur. having your trust to allow you to perform the most intimate and vulnerable actions with you is something we thank you for. give us time, mon amour, we want to make the night special for you, a perfect night that you deserve, yes?”

you smile wide, and nuzzle your face into max’s bare chest who only chokes on his agreement with charles, and respond, “a night that i deserve. i like the way that sounds.”

the night that you deserve, comes two weeks later, in a week and a half-gap between race weekends. you have mixed feelings about flying air-max, but privacy is something that you can’t beat. they’ve promised you five days in a private villa in mallorca (after a few recommendations, courtesy of carlos), just the three of you. and it’s beautiful, the villa, the land, your boyfriends.

you questioned why the vacation needed to be five days long, when they only needed a night to have sex with you. charles raised an eyebrow at you, unsure if your question was of a serious nature. max answered, “do you think one night will satisfy us?” your brown-skin lit ablaze, and you didn’t feel the need to answer the question.

the three of you fall straight asleep once you arrive in the villa—and you don’t know why there was a slight twinge of disappointment swirling around your mind. it’s not like you expected your tired boyfriends to fuck you after a greuling weekend; you’d rather them be properly rested and well energized for that activity. and in the morning, you’re woken up by max peppering kisses along your neck and charles tracing unknown patterns across your waist, and a brief smidge of nerves floats across your consciousness before disappearing. the nerves weren’t needed anyways, because when you try and deepen each man’s morning kisses, they slip out of bed and scold you for trying to ruin their plan. while your cheeks flame at the warning, your heart warms at their seriousness—they made a special night just for you.

they feed you breakfast in bed, coax you into a mid-morning nap, join you for a shower, let you lounge in a hammock while max embarrassed charles in football, they join you in another nap in the shaded cabana, and by the time you wake up it’s settling into the evening, and the boys rouse you into preparing dinner with them.

the evening belongs in one of the rom-com movies max claims to hate but secretly loves. charles is playing romantic french songs quietly through the sound system, max steals bites of ingredients right out of your hands, charles is firmly kept away from any knives and his only job is to shred parmesan for the carbonara you’re putting together, and max pops open a bottle of wine with a date so old you fear to learn its price tag.

dinner simultaneously crawls and flies by. the anticipation for tonight’s dessert has you nearly vibrating through the chair and you can see the amused smiles on the men’s faces. the minute dishes are set to wash, they lead you to the bedroom.

it’s like the first night all over again.

max sits at the foot of the bed, and charles helps you sit on his lap. the desperation tonight isn’t present; the men are thorough, unrushed, and plentiful in taking their time exploring your body again. max undresses you on his lap, his eyes not falling to look at the length of your body and charles is focused on peeling off his own clothes. the dutch guides you gently to lay on your back, and only with your permission do the two let their eyes wander.

and everywhere they trace with their eyes, they follow with their lips. from your forehead, to your brows, to your temple, to your nose, to your cheeks, to your lips, to your jaw, to your pulse, to your throat, to your collarbone, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your chest, to your ribs, to your wait, to your navel, to your hips, to your thighs, to your calves, to your ankles, and back up to your cunt.

charles has the pleasure of relaxing you with his tongue, while max follows after him with his fingers. when max removes his three fingers, deeming you prepared, the nerves are back. when you hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, the nerves build. when you hear max hiss at the feeling of charles’ hands rolling the condom on, the nerves amplify–and you panic.

“waitwaitwait,” you rush out, sitting up and pulling your thighs clothes. the men freeze, and quickly reach out to soothe you, murmuring words of reassurance and reminding you they won’t move any further without your consent.

you laugh, embarrassed, “i-i’m nervous…”

charles coos, and sits at your side to pull you into a hug, while max rubs a hand on your waist tenderly.

“liefje, being nervous is normal. i know we’ve talked about how it’s going to feel multiple times, but i understand that’s incredibly difficult from experiencing it. if you want to stop, we won't be mad, answer won’t mind waiting longer,” max says, making sure he holds eye contact with you so you are aware that he’s being honest with you.

you pat and charles so he’ll loosen his grasp on you, and lean back flat on the bed, “will you hold my hand, cha?”

charles bites his lip for a second before he chokes out a “oui,” and locks hands with you. max has to let his eyes shut for a few seconds before he allows them to open again. the innocent lilt to your voice has not lost it’s attractiveness, your inexperience clearly showing and it still sends them both reeling.

max pulls your legs around your waist, and guides the head of his cock against your entrance. he leans down to lock his lips with yours, waiting for you to relax again, and it doesn’t take long. your cunt gives way at a little pressure from max, and the pop of the tip of his dick within you stops your breathing. charles shushes your whine, brushing stray curls out of your face and kissing the back of your hand. your breathing resumes when max presses more within you, and your face tightens and the stretch—it’s not painful in the way you thought it would be, it’s uncomfortable, with a slight twinge of pain you expected, but the fullness makes up for it.

when max bottoms out, the two of you moan brokenly into each other’s mouths. max sees the uncomfortable look on your face and remains as steady as he possibly can, dropping his head to paint new marks across your neck while you adjust to his size. the two men are probably running their mouths, chattering away their praises at you, and even though you are already too gone to register their words, they turn your brain to syrup and one of max’s “pretty girl”’s you grind your hips forward.

max hums at the movement, and carefully shifts forward to meet you, his eyes reading your expression carefully. your eyes are glazed over, and they dance loosely around his face before settling on his eyes, and he smiles sweetly, chuckling a little at the embarrassed tint that he knows rests underneath your brown skin. his hips slowly start to turn into a rock, and he brightens at the sighed moans of pleasure you begin to fill the room with.

charles slides his hand in between your bodies to drag a firm thumb against your nipples, and the two men relish in the sharp squeal you let out–max choking at the even tighter grasp of your pussy. max shifts to rest kneeled between your legs and his next thrust within you at the new angle, has your body trembling against the sheets while a near scream escapes your chest, with toes-curling, and tummy tightening.

the dutch coos, “oh, that’s the spot—right there—isn’t it, liefje? you’ve been so good for us, pretty girl, yeah? you deserve to feel so good, baby. take it.”

your whines, moans, cries, and whimpers only increase in frequency and volume as max keeps his precise assault on your g spot as his thrusts work up to a faster speed. the sound of your absolutely soaked cunt being speared open by his cock will never leave your mind—the slaps and squelches too enticing. your cunt flutters around max’s cock sporadically, and he turns to charles with a pleased smile, “she’s going to cum already, schatje. it’s a good thing we have a few more days here.”

you whine, taking your free hand and pulling max face back to look at you again, “‘wanna cum! please, maxy—i wanna–”

charles hand that was previously playing with your chest, slips lower and rubs tight and quick circles around your clit, and the surrounding shriek and tightens, has max shaking above you. he hides his face in your neck and his thrusts are movingly quickly now, deep and short movements filled with power that you can hear from the slap of his skin against yours.

your grasp on charles’ hand tightens, and your other reaches mas to dig your nails into his shoulder for purchase, and with staccato breaths, whited-out vision, and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, you cum—and real pleasure coasts over you in waves.

max slows the forceful rolls of his hips to slight grinds, pressing deep within you and relishing the way your cunt fluctuates around him, and with pure will he staves off his own orgasm while you come down. he pulls his head away from your neck, and searches your face.

your babbling nonsensically, words mushing together in a murmured fashion, with a blissed-out smile dancing across your lips.

“oh–,” max hums, “you’re so gone, sweet girl. haven’t even fucked you for real, and you’ve forgotten how to act.”

charles tuts, flicking max on the hip, “max. be nice to her—your dick tends to make people lose their train of thought.”

“i think she’s lost a little more than her thoughts, tonight,” max snorts, “i’m going to pull out, and you slide in, yeah?”

when the older man pulls out of you, you claw at his shoulders trying to get him to stay on top of you and back inside of you. none of their words soothe you, and max is very glad he’s an athlete and that he’s turned your limbs to jello with your first orgasm to make you malleable. charles is quick to press his wrapped up cock inside you, and moans deeply at the hot and soaking wet channel. your whines and tears at your previous emptiness cease, and you buck your hips up to have charles deeper in you quicker.

“max~,” charles moans highly, the call of his name slurred and clumsy, “putain–ah–she’s too tight, how did you not come?”

“years of fucking you, charlie,” max laughs, pressing a kiss to the monegasque’s temple, “make her cum pretty boy, and then i’ll fuck you too.”

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