#can we K*SS

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[theloveinc]

Asking cause i dont want you to hate me 😔😔

dhfxdfuiaifjadjskf;lkdlklskaflkd

[unholymattressmoney]

brendan fraser looking soo cute in the youtube drew barrymore shorts heeey king *twirls hair*

[neowinestainedress]

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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[livschromaticcreations]

Not that anybody cares but I watched Dead Boy Detectives and I have something to say ☝️🤓☝️🤓

‼️Sandman comics spoiler warning‼️

I’m 99% sure Cat King is Loki (not Marvel’s Loki the one from Sandman comics 😭). He can turn into ANYONE not just some guy, and he didn’t count himself as a cat when Edwin said “it’s 147 cats you forgot to count yourself.” Also based on when the story takes place, Loki must have been let out by Dream by now (somewhere in volume 2) and it would make sense for Loki to be messing around in some f**k*ss town hiding from Odin and other celestial ppl. Also his eyes are literally the exact same as Loki’s eyes in the comics 👀

And also bonus points we all know Dream is the king of cats so Loki could possibly have stolen one of Dream’s alter egos as a cover.

ANYWAYS this is just a silly little prediction I could be wrong 🤷‍♂️ I know Dead Boys is only partially canon and most of it wasn’t in the comics. But Sandman Season 2 is (allegedly) coming out soon and there’s also ready a lot of lore drops and easter eggs that allude to Sandman comics volume 2 🤔 one other example is how Edwin said “there’s a lot more ghosts now than there used to be due to a past incident.” Hehehehe like when Lucifer abandoned Hell and let the whole undead out 😳?!?!?!

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Witcher Senses: Hearing

As a Witcher, Geralt has enhanced hearing. He can hear sound pitches that normal humans don't even know exist. The enhanced sense helps to keep him alive on the Path .

Having enhanced hearing comes in handy on the Path, but sometimes, it can be quite a curse. On one hand, you have superhuman hearing and can hear everything, but on the other hand, you have superhuman hearing and can hear everything.

When he starts traveling with Jaskier, he has to get used to all the noises another living thing makes. He's used to the sounds Roach makes as she lives her horsey life, but Jaskier brings a new set of sounds he has to grow accustomed to.

Geralt can tell how his bard is feeling by listening to the sounds he makes. He can hear if he is ill by how he breathes and how his heart beats. He can tell if the stew Jaskier ate last night is going to come out one end or the other by the rumbles in his guts.

Many times, those sounds he can hear are very annoying.

Geralt lays awake many nights, the sound of Jaskier's breathing annoying the absolute f**k out of him. He feels like he understands women better

"I can't stand the sound of his breathing", and "I hate the way he breathes!", suddenly sound like very valid reasons for murder.

And Jaskier only thinks he's being quiet when, in the wee hours of the night, he decides to visit with Mrs. Rosy Palm.

Geralt discovers that silence can be very loud indeed and he can hear him from the other side of the campsite, but he does his best to pretend to be asleep so as to not make things awkward. Sometimes he makes a few sleepy sounding grunts and gets up to pretend he needs to take a p*ss or sh*t, and heads off into the woods for a bit.

Not all the sounds Jaskier makes are annoying. Some of them are pleasant. The sound of his voice as he sings quietly to himself, or laughs, or talks about everything and anything. The sound of his bickering with Yennefer. Really just the sound of his voice in general, especially when he drops his adopted Court accent and allows his Northen accent to come out.

Those are comforting sounds; sounds that make him happy.

And of course, there are sounds that just cause a visceral reaction. There aren't many things that bother a Witcher, but Jaskier accidentally discovers one of the few sounds that does.

One evening, Jaskier decides to try to find out just how good Geralt's hearing is, and badgered Geralt with all sorts of questions about it.

Geralt puts up with the questions, some of which were absurd. Sometimes, he wonders if Jaskier is just f***ing with him, trying to see how far he can wind him up.

Jaskier ignores the death glare Geralt is giving him and sits by the fire, admiring the new comb he'd bought that afternoon.

"Can you hear a bear sh*tting in the woods?"

"Can you hear the sound of one hand clapping?"

"Oh, OH! Can you hear if people are f***ing in one of the other rooms when we stay at an inn?"

Geralt casually grumbles, "No, but I can hear you f***ing your d*mn hand in your bedroll when you think I'm asleep."

Jaskier flinches, embarrassed, but covers it with a dramatic, scandalized gasp,"HoW rUdE! cAn'T a MaN gEt aNy PrIvAcY?" He frowns at Geralt when the Witcher responds with a derisive "hm" and an eye roll.

Jaskier, embarrassed and annoyed, idly runs his fingernail down the teeth of the comb, and...

...Geralt gags violently.

"Geralt, are you alright?" Jaskier asks as Geralt swallows thickly, a surprised and confused look on his face.

Jaskier instantly forms a theory.

Ooh, let's test it out!

He glances at Geralt one more time, then back at the comb, and drags his fingernail down the teeth.

Geralt made a retching sound, and a smile split Jaskier's face.

"Jaskier, don't you dar-EeUUrRggHh!"

"JaskiEeEauUrrRgGhh!"

"Stop doing tHaRRgHhKH!"

"HeuORgHKKK!"

"FaWWWUGHKing staHhuaRk!"

"BbleeEEUaRgkH!"

Jaskier is laughing and grinning as he keeps making the godsawful sound, until Geralt lunges at him and begins chasing him around the campsite.

Jaskier is dodging and running as Geralt chases him, their progress punctuated by the toothy sound of the comb, followed by gagging.

Roach watches in bemusement as her two imbeciles continue their nonsense, until Jaskier, now too busy laughing at Geralt to look where he's going, runs into a tree.

Geralt jumps on him, hisses at him, and snatches up the wretched comb, before hurling it as hard as he can into the woods.

The rest of the evening passes in sulky silence from Geralt. He feels a little bit bad for throwing the comb, and does apologize.

Jaskier just waves the incident off. He isn't too worried about the comb because he'd bought two. He refrains (with great effort) from using this newfound knowledge for evil. At least until he gets to Kaer Morhen that winter.

Lambert is the first to fall victim. He's being an ar**hole, as usual, and Jaskier, being the petty little sh*t he is, waits until his back is turned, then retaliates.

Get combed motherf**ker!

Eskel didn't do anything wrong, he just happened to unfortunately be within earshot when Jaskier took out Lambert.

Eskel had no clue where that awful sound had come from, but he d*mn near prolapsed his esophagus when it made him gag.

The other witchers were merely victims of bardic boredom.

They were all having dinner in uncharacteristic silence. Jaskier's attempts at conversation and entertainment had been met with disapproving glares and grumbles.

Oh, ok, you gloomy b**tarts, I see how it's going to be

Jaskier casually reached into his pocket and took out the comb

The quiet sound cut through the silence like the peal of a bell.

The Hall erupted in sputtering, spat drinks, and a symphony of gagging.

Jaskier is cackling madly as Witchers all over the Great Hall rise and start coming for him, cussing and snarling.

Jaskier runs for the door, pauses, and *comb sounds*

Witchers: *doubling over, falling to their knees, gagging, puking*

Jaskier had to hide in Yennefer's room until the Witchers were no longer considering outright murder.

[reveluving]

Girl tell me why I had a jdm dream where he asked me to do butt stuff w him and I said yeah and we enjoyed it a lot? 🤨

*sighing and taking out my card* 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳

sweet velvet ; jeffrey dean morgan characters x female reader

includes: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), bits of both soft & mean!doms & loads of possessive/lovestruck JDM chars!

a/n: I could never get this ask out of my head since, is all I can say to y'all hsjdhssk PLEASE, I can't thank you enough for feeding into my JDM thirst, and I encourage y'all reading this to do the same because I can never get enough of this man UGHHH and pls don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ❤️

fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

char. include: joe kessler (the boys), negan smith (twd), max (the resident '11), john winchester (supernatural, hear me out), ike evans (magic city), patrick sullivan (the accidental husband), & luke vaughn (heist 2015)!

smut includes: husband!jdm char., unprotected s~ex (p/fingers in v), size kink, plugs (on f!reader), spitting k~ink, cunnilingus & a~ss eating, stockings/heels, c~ckwarming, mirror k~ink, edging, mentions of overstimulation and sq~uirting. each and every one of them is just obsessed with you!!

If you thought his obsession over your height difference was ridiculous, think again because he could never get enough of your ass.

Regardless of your JDM men of choice, there is no doubt their obsession with your ass is unreal. Without a doubt that each and every one of them eats like it would be their last moments on earth. Loving the sloppy mess of both their spit and your juices, not only mixing and dribbling down their chin and facial hair, but especially down to your tight hole.

Negan, John, Kessler, and Max, the nastiest men in the bunch, would buy you one or more of those gem plugs because there has never been a more gorgeous sight than you writhing on top of them as they teasingly run the cool plug along your tight hole. All while condescendingly mirroring your parted lips while you’re desperately trying not to move so much upon their command, a creamy white ring now visible at the base. 

There is just something so bewitching about seeing a sex toy that is almost so innocent-looking being enough to have you clenching so hard around them.

Or they would have you on your back, flicking their tongue along your sopping lips before descending to the plug you’re gripping hard on. Licking around the gem and teasing your sensitive skin around it while holding your legs over their shoulders. 

Occasionally pulling the toy out just a little and seeing you pucker before pushing it back in with a groan that’ll send shivers down your spine.

Wrap your thighs around their head or roll your hips into their face all you want, being smothered by their pretty girl this way, to them, would be the best way to go there is.

Ike, the man of all things fancy, is all about romance. He adores building the tension up, standing behind you and running his hands up and down your sides, groaning as he gets a whiff of the tantalizing smell of your favourite perfume spritzed just behind your ear. If there’s music, he will sway to the sultry beat with you, reminding you like he does every day, how much of a lucky son of a gun he is to have you, and how much he needs you.

He wants you at your most comfortable, and he wants you to let it all out for him: no muffling, no shying away, and absolutely no hiding. If the entirety of Miami can marvel upon you like an angel on earth, then he, your dearest husband, can most certainly do the same, and way more, just like you deserve. 

Models or showgirls don’t even hold a candle to you when he can have you in just stockings and/or a garter belt with heels. While he loves you in both everything and nothing, but with just heels and stockings? Fuck, he doesn’t think even the strongest liquor could get him this drunk and enchanted as he is with you.

He knows that looming over you at the foot of the bed will have you squirming on your back already. Plus, missionary is only boring if you make it boring, not when Ike would hold your legs over his shoulder, barely concealing his dazed state for you by kissing your ankles, moving his hips with vigour to hear your moans peak at every thrust. 

Patrick, kinky as he is passionate, strives to incorporate both, especially for your pleasure. So what’s sexier than cockwarming and mirror sex? To be able to easily see both your eyes rolling back and the sight of himself buried inside you is the cherry on top, especially after a hard day’s work as a frontliner. 

He would hold you against him, the fine hairs on his chest tickling your back as he plants soft kisses along your neck. Infuriatingly reminding you to keep your eyes on the mirror, whether by a whisper or a subtle grip on your thighs, knowing it gets you more bratty and impatient by the second. 

If Patrick is a little more on the passionate side, then Luke falls more on the kinky end. He yearns for you 24/7 and it amplifies when he is either stressed or when he sees you bond with his daughter so well. 

Whether you're standing chest to chest with his hands cupping your cheeks or holding you to his side as an act of protection, his hand is on the small of your back and lingering just inches away from your rear. The fact that physical touch, being one of, if not, his most major love language is definitely a sign.

Similar to the first three, Luke will not be able to stop smiling ever so smugly whenever you jerk and squirm, hoping he'd spare you the relentless teasing, and once he does, he would lick a stripe along your pussy and nipping at your clit between his lips while prodding his middle finger at that very spot.

Sloppy and desperate to make you cum on his tongue while pushes another finger into you, smiling against your back arches so beautifully.

a/n: how many jdmorgan characters did I want in this, you may ask? yes! and this is me holding back! ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[eldaryasharbinger]

MCL New Gen Ep 3 Review

I finally finished the episode! I'll give a more generic opinion about it here and put all the spoilers below the cut!

I think it was really nice, I didn't check how many APs I used but I saw someone else mention that it's around 1200 APs which I think is fair! I was scared about it at first because I'm not sure if I'm the only one who noticed that, ususally, the first episodes are either shorted/cheaper and that new episodes that come out are much more expensive... I hope that won't happen!

The outfits are pretty cute, also I noticed that if you want to, you can unlock the other outfit you missed for 150 hearts! It's just to unlock it in the shop without having to replay the episode, you still have to purchase each piece separately but I think it's alright since the prices are really cheap!!

I don't really know what else to add and still be spoiler free, so now it's time for spoilers! you've been warned!

I'm so so happy with how they get Candy to react everytime... I love that she changes expressions accordingly and it's much more fun!! Also I think I screenshotted(?) almost all of Jason's scenes,, I'm sorry I'm just so down bad I kept giggling everytime he said anything,, I think that's why it took me a while to finish the episode lol...

Petronilla you're so real for that... Me too... (he awakens the goblin inside me...)

Honestly I really think that we should keep this in mind everytime he opens his mouth because it's actually so true... Also how are you so obsessed... Keep it going...

He wants to kiss her so bad I just know it... He's like that one kid that bullies you just because he's into you and doesn't know how to behave

"Little kitten"

...

I'm so done with this guy he's so shameless and I love him for that,,

The illustration is very pretty! He's so handsome why can't he just do a backflip off of Goldreamz's roof (He's so pretty sometimes it p*sses me off lmao)

I think I'll try to edit this one soon too!

I think it's pretty funny that she calls him that, yeah I can see how he's a loser... (I be calling him things just cause he's pretty and annoying I swear)

She's so... I'm so gay leave me alone,,,,,

ALSO ISTG she's going to be the end of me and my wallet, I can't help but always buy both her's and Jason's special scenes (I still haven't understood if you can get the illu's without buying the scenes... help,,) and on top of that of course I'll say that I'm going for Jason's route and then buy Amanda's illus because I can't live without it,, Beemoov let me be poly for once, Petronilla has two hands for a reason!! Either let us (Me and 'Nilla) have the same outfits for both Amanda and Jason so that I won't have to spend 350 extra gems or idk;;-;

The doomed yuri... The forbidden yuri... Petronilla you're so gay... Idk I think I can hear "I wanna be your girlfriend" by girl In red from miles away... We're so over ;A;

If I get the time I think I'll try to edit this one as well!! So so pretty!

I also wanted to mention this... Man he's just like me this guy is autistic as F**K I'm telling y'all... I relate to that so much, especially the fact that he apparently seems to be thinking in percentages as well (By that I mean that at least I tend to make my decisions based on calculations and such... That's why I like to joke about having a computer for brains lol)

Looks like Beemoov's writers did their homework on this guy cause if he's actually autistic-coded I think they did a great job! Autism is a spectrum in the end but I really resonate with how they're potraying it with Thomas! Kudos!

Last but not least... Jason's text after finishing the episode... I'm shipping Jason and Petronilla so hard,,,,,, I love the blue&pink contrast, they were made for each other your honor... If we add Amanda they can be the Bisexual flag together...

[wroteclassicaly]

hope you had a good nap k <3 you did such a good job last time with eddie and steve painting reader's face and ruining her makeup. but tbh now i wanna ruin HIS makeup!! riding eddie's face and squirting all over him sounds like so much fun rn :(

OKAY, soooooo — this idea popped into my head almost immediately after I read your ask! I hope this is okay? It turned into something of my own weird muse, haha. We love dirty riding/messy time to ruin that boy, don’t we? All support for it in this household!

Summary: Eddie tries out a new look for a show. He wanted it to be intense, but that doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Warnings: Language, NSFW, oral sex, face riding, vaginal fingering, small p*ss kink (mentioned only), mirror play, handsy Eddie, hair pulling, and squirting.

A/N: This is unedited, so I’m sorry if it looks awful because of that. I wanted to get this out for the rest of y’all too, and I was inspired! The imagery I have of what I was picturing as Eddie’s look… fuuuuuck me 🤤

When your boyfriend of seven months stated that he had a surprise for you, what is currently standing in your eye-line is not the statement you’d expected. Corroded Coffin was playing a bar in Indianapolis tonight — their second gig there that actually accumulated a decent crowd. And Eddie had been right all along — a bigger, more Metropolitan city opened doorways to the metal scene, something a hick town in Indiana never could. He wanted to really fix up, make himself look as intense as possible. He’d been gone with Robin since early in the afternoon, only telling you he was getting his hair permed for the show and his nails painted.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get a manicure with Robin, the ladies in the salon used to Eddie and his eccentric fashions. Everyone heard about the metal scene, the punk fashion, but in Hawkins it wasn’t welcomed, especially after Eddie would leave the parlor and receive several stray insults from one hillbilly to the next. He didn’t mind it though, he got to wave his freshly done nails with a doubled down bird. His favorite wave.

You liked that he had formed a quick companionship with Robin, solidifying his place in the group (and your heart) not long after everything with Vecna.

You’re so completely lost in your thoughts, eyes glazed over with the haze of fascination and want, that you aren’t aware Eddie is stepping closer until you can smell his Old Spice and see what he meant in regards to stamping a statement on your conscious (and unconscious mind).

“Holy fuck…”

That stubble bitten mouth pulls away to reveal a milky white smirk. His chocolate eyes, dusted with a blood red layer of shadow, long lashes elongated by a mascara wand, and a charcoal wing swiping out carefully, sharply — widen comically, enhanced impossibly wider. A silver sword dangles from his ear — you note. He’d apparently remembered he’d had it pierced and decided to indulge. His fresh perm is soft and silky looking, the product still settled into the locks.

You gulp onto a dry choke, his outfit what really makes your knees jello, a throb automatically smacking you in between your legs.

“Yeah?” You hear the slight crunch of leather as he backs up to give you a twirl, his ass well rounded in the acid wash denim, his chain swaying, wallet resting against a cheek beneath the denim pocket. He blinks those lashes and winks at you, making you physically clench your legs together. “You like it sweetheart? S’ a lot, I know.”

His inky colored nails, his signature chunky rings clad on those deliciously sinful fingers, they slip along the tightened corset that’s wrapped around his slender waist, stopping short below his nipples to help showcase the cut off crop of mesh that dangles around his neckline, covering what the corset doesn’t. His tattoos veiled, but visible, as if they’re entities peeking out to play. His combat boots that are still smeared with his own blood from the Upside Down are laced over his feet. You stumble all around your words, tongue lolling, mouth pooling with saliva. Eddie filters a fingertip beneath your chin, leaning down beneath the glow of his bedroom lamplight. “It’s a hit then?”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Eddie Munson has that effect on you. “How long did your makeup take you? You can do it again before tonight, right?”

His enriching brows frown, a silly grin pressing the lines of his mouth. “Could do it all in the car. Everything but the wings.” He wiggles his defined digits to lay emphasis for his question. “Why, baby? What’s goin’ on in this head of yours? You’re running a little bit on empty tonight, huh?”

“So it’s not a big deal?”

“It’s not a big deal if what?” He waves his hand as if he’s taking a bow, awaiting your answer.

However, he doesn’t need any confirmation, your desperation, accelerated breathing, and tightening of your thigh muscles give you away. Not to mention your blown to hell pupils. He still wants to tease you a little, dangle you. You’re his best audience member, and he wants to spin you on his finger and work you to the bone until you’re begging and panting for him to hurt you a little harder. You lean into his touch — a natural instinct that runs deeper than breathing.

His cigarette stained breath is speckled with hints of cinnamon gum, his plush lips barely caressing yours, pulling them open and hovering a top his as he speaks with a fucked out rasp. He’s just as gone. His hands reach between you two and he finds your clasped hands (you didn’t realize you’d done that, nails having left marks behind in your palms), placing them onto his simple belt buckle. “What should I do with my little groupie, hmm? Make her suck me off, leave her wet all night?”

You mewl at that, suddenly finding speech capabilities. “No!”

“Or… maybe my sweetheart needs me to unzip my jeans and bend her over the dresser so I can claim that nice little pussy. Want it to sting every time you move at the bar, baby? No one will hear it when you whimper because of me.”

He’s already swelling against your palm, helping you undo his belt to release some tension and gain a bit of friction. His fingers cup your neck’s nape, draping down your back like a winding vine, tapping an invisible beat only he knows. You’re arching into him, your flimsy sweats and t-shirt too heavy and too hot. You aren’t even ready for the event tonight, but it’s a good thing. And as Eddie knees you into his bed until you’re falling back onto the mattress — you’re downright fucking grateful.

He’s your rockstar and you’re his instrument, and dammit to hell if he can’t play you to make you sing for him. The mesh is tickling the backs of your thighs, his pick chain dragging with his heaving breaths, your hands finding purchase in it to grip on every inhale. His lids are closed, a caressing explosion of red and black smudged together. His cheeks are soaked in red, mouth plump and swollen, your creamy cum soaking his chin, glistening when he’s turning his head to shimmy in a particular deep lick. His hands are squishing the doughy flesh that surrounds his head, your thighs spread wide, his curls tickling.

“Eds… oh, baby. So good with your fucking mouth.” You’re trying not to rock, to ruin his makeup completely beyond repair, but the man is just as insatiable, and you did ask for this.

His nose nudges your clit and he inhales like a fucking wild animal, nuzzling the tuft of slick curls scattered across your cunt. He could have the devil’s eyes — hell, with his caramel irises shattered to a thin ring, alike to your unraveling sanity, his pupils make him look like a beast, called upon by your heat. He blinks those wet lashes and you see his fingers travel up your cunt, spreading your labia, smearing what wetness he gathers from that — across your sternum and over your breasts, leaving a heavy handed smack to each one. His deep voice latches onto that cove that keeps you connected during this time, being so far outer limits. You already are prepared for him to motion with a hand on your neck, turning your gaze to yourself perched on his face, staring back at you from the stand alone mirror he’d gotten.

The perfect view. He’d dubbed it.

It’s a sight too erotic for you to contain the wanton cry that slithers off your scorched tongue. Your legs thump under a sporadic heat, and Eddie wiggles his fingers against your collar bone, breaking away with a string of your arousal connected to his mouth. He suckles it with an appreciative moan. “See yourself sitting on your throne, baby? This was what you wanted, what you needed, right?”

“Eddie, love you so much. I can’t —“

His fingers dip into the motions with his tongue, circling your opening before they dip inside, being sucked in with wet welcome. Your eyes close, then open with every harsh squelch that echoes in the small room. There’s a familiar twist that’s attacking your navel and you’re aware exactly what it is. You start to shake your head and rise off the stimulation. “Eds… too much, m’ gonna — and your outfit…”

He’s like a giddy boy at Christmas, a Cheshire smirk causing him to pull his ruined face from your cunt, pressing a few kisses to your thigh.

“You’re gonna…? Piss on me or squirt? Can’t say I’d mind either way.” You tighten around his fingers and bounce yourself onto the thick digits, that spongy spot ignited by the stimulation.

“I’ll ruin your shirt, maybe your pants, baby—“

God help you when you look at his loving gaze staring directly back at you. His makeup is absolutely demolished, perspiration and your essence smearing it around his cheeks. He’s shining with you, sampling your taste off his mouth. His chest is heaving wildly, breaths choppy. You can practically swallow his fucking words.

“No one’s gonna know that it’s not sweat, sweetheart. I’ll be wearing you all night.”

And he curls those gifted treasures, coaxing you forward, his tongue licking where his fingers meet, all the way to your clit, before he closes his lips around it. You come undone, that firestorm urge seizing your insides and beckoning you into oblivion. You shout his name so loudly that you’re sure everyone can hear. He presses you into him with a hard jostle, and your translucent cream spills from you, drenching your boyfriend, your thighs trembling, hands fisting into his hair. He helps you ride it through, moaning lowly as the spray floods his face, his own hips arching off the bed.

You’re still trembling when his fingers slide out of you, cum following them, stringing to Eddie’s fingers in a shimmery web, and he greedily laps you up once more, tugging you beside him with a softness that only he is capable of, rubbing your back to help calm you. You help him clean his face with your discarded shirt, his hand finding your breast and stroking absentmindedly along your nipple as if it were a chord he was playing. You sigh happily, looking at him. You’re so in love it’s disgusting.

“You’re a mess, Munson.” You find yourself giggling.

He shrugs. “Nectar of the gods, baby. Nectar of my goddess. A goddess who is gonna have to help me redo all this.” He motions to his face and you nod.

“I am your most devoted groupie, Eddie Munson.”

~*~

[bbkissme99]

Book fic recs

The Empyrean:

𝖿іrs𝗍 𝗍іmᥱ | 𝖿᥆ᥙr𝗍һ ᥕіᥒg һᥴ

The Lost Sister - Part 5

Fourth Wing Men HCs: nicknames for him Includes: Bodhi Durran, Garrick Tavis

under the weather

Love Languages

ᥒᥱᥱძіᥒᥱss

sᥕᥱᥱ𝗍 ⍴ᥱr𝖿ᥙmᥱ

excuses, excuses

Good mornings with the Marked Ones:

A couple in bed settling in for evening: Goodnight Dear

Being in a secret relationship with the Iron Flame characters

Garrick x reader

Silent worry

all the small things - g.t.

Dragon weeks

Scream it why don't you

His girl

ძᥲ𝗍іᥒg gᥲrrіᥴk 𝗍ᥲ᥎іs

sᥒᥙggᥣᥱ ᑲᥙg

We're in this together

something smutty for garrick

some smut with garrick

ძ᥆mіᥒᥲᥒ𝗍

Garrick Tavis Head Cannons

Cupid

Just One Date - Garrick Tavis x Reader One Shot

all the small things - g.t.

Is That Blood? - Garrick Tavis

Bodhi x reader

Interruptions

ძᥲ𝗍іᥒg ᑲ᥆ძһі ძᥙrrᥲᥒ

Worries

Not giving up on us

by your side - b.d.

Five More Minutes | B. Durran |

Angel eyes

where were you in the morning? - b.d.

Stay Still | B. Durran |

Love Letters

Breaks and Bruises

Shit at Feelings iv

intimacy alphabet - b.d.

Until the end and beyond // Bodhi Durran x reader

Dain x reader

ᥴᥲᥙgһ𝗍 іᥒ 𝗍һᥱ ᥲᥴ𝗍

Ridoc x Reader

not joking

Dress

Brennan x Reader

Brennan Sorrengail Cuddle Head Canons

Bruises

Can We Not - Brennan Sorrengail x Reader

Didn’t go as planned // Brennan Sorrengail x reader

TOG

Aelin x Rowan

Detours to You - Masterlist

Dorian x reader

Dating Dorian Havilliard would include-

dating modern!dorian would include…

Pairings: Professor!Lorcan x f!student!reader

Crescent City

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Dating Ruhn Danaan Headcanons

Like I Do

Family Time

Acotar

Masterlist

Eris

Peace Summary: A look into a normal day in the new Vanserra household

One Last Night

𝐸𝓇𝒾𝓈 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Juice Stains : A day alone with the babe. What could go wrong?

You aren’t fully comfortable with your post baby body and Eris is not having it.

𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐦𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞n: Eris x rhysand daughter reader where they're mates, but in a secret relationship

vanserra males headcanons

Solace

This is a small Eris Vanserra x Reader snippet. You and Eris are in his study.

Nyx

Of Wings and Secrecy

Don't Touch // Nyx (ACoTaR) x Fem!Reader

ambushes and invitations

misplaced chivalry 

Power Over Me

When Night Bloomed

☽ cold starlights

KINGDOM OF THE FEARED SPOILERS!! Barnes and Noble bonus chapter pt. 1

[liftingbats]

ŬIt@ Tips n Info !

I worked at ŬIt@ for about a year, so I'll try to give as much advice as possible! It's been half a year since I quit, so things may have changed, and things may be different at different stores.

When learning about shr!nk/l0ss pr3v3ntion, the first thing we were taught was to never confront someone you think is ste@ling. You'll never be asked to put something back by a regular associ@te, only a m@nager who's usually pretty easy to identify. Instead, if you're being consistently approached by the same associ@te, asking if you want a basket and being pushy, there's a chance theyre onto you, so just take what you have alrdy and dip. They're not allowed to chase or touch you at all.

Cam3ras are usually on a monitor by the register, and on a monitor in the back! Take advantage of busy days, if the store is crowded and there isnt a lot of stàff, there's a good chance everyone is too busy to keep an eye on the c@meras and floor. (but still avoid them, obviously)

Most of the time, stâff is looking for th3ft in the fragr@nce or h@ir tech section. At my store we often had people come in and fill bags with it, so avoid that area like the plague when conc3aling! Even just walking into that space can put eyes on you.

Always be friendly to the stáff! This is an obvious one, but at ÙIt@ we were really pushed to walk the floor and ask people if they wanted help, even multiple times. Just a simple "no thanks!" and a smile will help you sm.

Obviously it varies by st0re, but at each one I've been to, I've had the most success c0nc3aling by crouching at shelvès by walls! Especially the wall that holds pr0ducts for ÙIt@'s brand. But make sure to scope out your own st0re, the c@meras have wide range.

Dress casually and try to seem put together, and be careful what bag you bring! Since fr@grance nd hair tends to get taken the most, workèrs keep an eye on people with big bags.

Never ever ever leave an empty b0x. If an empIoy33 finds an empty b0x, chances are they'll give it to a m@nager who checks c@meras at where the b0x was found to see who left it.

I don't recommend l!fting from a location that will recognize you, especially if you have a r3wards acc with ÙIt@. The account has your name, number, address, etc. If you're buying something at the same time youre l!fting and you think they might be susp!cious, don't give them your nùmber.

Be careful for hidden rf!d t@gs! Some are more hidden than others, for example, some k!ss nails have rf!ds inside the box.

Of course, again all st0res are different so take everything with a grain of salt. And some man@gers are so far up c0rporates ass that theyll ignore the LP rules just to keep lnventory so always be careful and watch your back! Quick trips to st0res youve never been to before are always best.

Thats all the important ones I can think of at the moment, but I'll reblog with more if I remember anything else!

[paper-mario-wiki]

Thoughts on conlanging and if you would ever do it?

I did already! I invented a language with as few plosives as possible in University. It was called the Ghost Language.

My group was tasked with making a language drawing from a theoretical location. Our groups location was "desert tundra". We theorized of a civilization which evolved to interpret the blowing sound of wind as the voices of their ancestors, and so their language subsequently changed to something that resembled the wind as much as possible so as not to disrespect the dead by speaking a language they cannot.

Sounds like "P" and "T" and "K" were minimized, and breathier sounds like "shh" and "ss" were included as much as possible. A sentence might look like this:

"Nyu Shlu Shlaa Hayaa swaah haah."

Plosives (harsher, sharper, poppier sounds) were seen as crude and crass. Like swear words!

Here's a snippet of the essay explaining and breaking it down:

Ultimately I think conlangs are super neat, and can be very utilitarian if created with the proper intentions, but you won't find me chomping at the bit to learn Esperanto any time soon.

[exocynraku]

hi! no idea if this has been answered, but have you considered how groups of seals think about queerness as a whole? are there trans seals? how do they perceive gayness or a complete disinterest in sexual relations (and, tying into this-seals who have no desire to have a partner, whether or not it's platonic?) no pressure to respond d: love ur little guys the gene sheet is so cool

Short answer: our human concepts of gayness and transgendism don’t properly/fully apply to caeseal societies because gender is not a concept that exists. It’s just never been invented. sex-based genders (boy and girl), masculinity/felinity and tradtional gender roles don't exist. The only thing that does exist is different ways seals will PERSONNALY refer to themselves (pronoun wise i talk about mostly). I say personally because the pronouns seals use are ALWAYS DIFFERENT! specifically catered to the singular seal! (with the except of it/its which you'll have to read my long answer for if you want to understand that) Our human concepts of asexualism/aromanticism/things akin to that DO exist but play a more prominent role in pods. Hunts are kind of an odd ball, lol. Long answer: caeseals and their relationships with sexuality and gender are a lot more different than ours, mostly because:

 caeseals have little to no physical difference between sexes excluding reproducing organs. i'm still debating if i want to add any sort of sex-linked gene(s). this is very unlike most real species of seals but i decided on it mostly because i . Like it more than normal sexual dimorphism? that's sort of it. 

with no obvious sexual differences there also isn’t really a concept of ‘masculinity’ or ‘femininity’, and traditional gender roles haven’t been invented. 

and this all does play a part in caeseal society. how sexuality and “gender” both work differ between pod and hunt groups ! 

hunts: with mates being assigned, what we know as traditional romance is pretty much nonexistent. hunt seal romance is more akin to friendly rivalries.

sexual and romantic attraction really isn’t something that cross hunt seals minds. it does occur, but very few will act on them until later in their life (after they’ve mated, when they can do whatever they want). Excluding a distaste towards sex, which they’ll usually act on sometime after getting paired up by killing their partner.

the sex of hunt seals is known by the leader of the hunt. since they are the ones who choose pairings, they need to keep track of everybody to make sure pairings would be able to reproduce. 

all hunt seals start their lives being called ‘it’ (it/its). this also works as a catch-all term if you need to refer to a seal you don’t know the gender of.

most hunt seals will eventually stray away from 'it' as they grow. there are many reasons one may, and i couldn't list them all. but, as they stray away, the terms they choose are usually entirely unrelated to their sex. instead, it's usually related to their fighting style! 

all seals, no matter the group, attack by biting. but attacking is not all you need to know, especially in hunts. hunts teach all sorts of specialized moves, ranging from defense techniques, knowing your limits & how to use your differences to your advantage, surprise attacks, how to use your surroundings, etc etc. and a lot of seals have somethint they specialize in.

hunt seals use this when choosing how to refer to themselves. have you ever heard of kiki and bouba? how kiki sounds sharp and pointy and bouba sounds soft and round? hunt seals apply the vibes and feelings of different noises (letters) to the vibes and feelings of the thing they specialize in. 

a seal who specializes in surprise attacks would go for something short and sudden sounding (ex: t/k/v/j), maybe a noise that'd instil a feeling of dread. (ex: ss/ee) 

a seal who specializes in a battering-ram style charges to throw opponents around would want something that starts slower (oo, uu, aa, hh, gg) and ends solid, but not sharp. (d/g/b/m) 

etc etc, i could make a million examples. hunt seals who specialize in multiple styles could use multiple pronouns or mix two together. if a hunt seal's style changes over time, so could how they refer to themselves. 

what feeling a certain letter evokes does vary SLIGHTLY hunt to hunt, but that doesn't matter, and a hunt seal wouldn't introduce themselves to a seal from a different hunt. they'd just fight each other. 

i’ll probably make a guide for what letters hunt seals associate different things to. but that’ll be later

pods: pod culture around relationships is a LOT more complex than hunts and is a bit hard to define. Gender is . still a bit complex but it’s definitely easier to understand than their relationships

similar to hunts, pod seals begin their lives being referred to as it (it/its). but the way pod seals figure out what terms they’ll be referred to as isn’t actually determined by them. as seals grow up, the people around them and the people they’re close to, usually immediate family, will start referring to them in different ways. whatever their family thinks fits them. as time goes on, eventually certain terms will fall off and others will stick. and eventually, usually when they’re about halfway thru their juvenality, one will REALLY stick. that’ll be how this seal refers to themselves.

similar to hunts, these terms are usually made up, but not related to sounds. they’re related to things that the seals family associates with them. usually physical objects/things or ‘vibes’. this is a little hard to explain, but eventually i’ll make an easier guide/make examples.

If a seal for whatever reason doesn’t like the term that’s been decided for them, they can ask for more suggestions/pick a different one their family recommended/make one up themselves/etc. It’s rare for this to happen but it’ll show up every so often. 

Pods relationships are open and ‘cheating’ is not a concept that exists in their society. Seals who never end up in relationships with other seals do exist but they’re hard to find. Most seals are able to keep track of who they’re in a relationship with but those who like having lots of partners will occasionally keep lists. 

Most seals end up in relationships with those who they grew up with but meeting someone totally new does happen. And when i mean meeting someone new, i mean both from a different pod and inside your OWN pod. This might seem crazy but, i think i’ve mentioned it, pods can get VERY BIG!!!! There is most DEFINITELY a chance there’ll be some seals you don’t meet for a long time or are only acquaintances with. 

Pod relationships are pretty complex but CAN be understood if you put a bit of brain into it. The only relationship that’s not hard to figure out are familial relationships as those just work as. That’s my family. That’s not my family. Otherwise, pod seal relationships usually consist of offshoots of platonic, romantic or sexual. (ps: when i say platonic i don’t mean stuff like friends or acquaintances those are their own thing that word just how they do normally in real life) to give a few examples, someone could have a solely romantic relationship with another seal, but be open to romantic or sexual relationships. Someone could like romantic relationships but only with people they don’t know very well. I could quite literally go on forever. 

But, when referring to another seal, pod seals will generally say ‘i don’t know that seal/we’re acquaintances/we’re friends’ or ‘we have a relationship/we are partners’ and then expand further or not depending on comfort. I’m not sure if i explained that well (like ive done with most of the stuff in this post putting my thoughts into words is brain melting) but i’ll have to cap it here before i die in some sort of way. But i’ll get around to making nice guides eventually, probably when school stops swamping me (who knows when that’ll be though) 

[takiberry]

You made a post like a month long ago about partner age preference, but I literally just saw it, and no one replied to it then which is shocking, but I have opinions on this. Starting from who wants an older to who wants a younger.

Older:

Euijoo - I feel like he'd probably want an older s/o, I mean he's be fine going for someone way older, like not twice his age, but like he's fine with someone 6/7 years older than him. We all know he said his dream as a child was to be a dad, and I feel like he'd be the only one to like purposefully go for a milf, like someone that already has kids, he'd be down for that. Others would be like but they have a kid, and he'd just be like you mean we have a kid, since he's now their step/dad. Seeing how he said he wanted to be a dad, he'd see someone older as someone more likely to be ready to start a family, since I feel like Euijoo would be that person that like wants to get married and then immediately start a family, and if they already have a kid, he'd think that's even better.

Harua and Jo - I feel like they would want someone older, but just like 2/3 years older, not too too older. I feel they would absolutely enjoy the prince treatment they would get from someone older. They would just want someone to sorta lead the relationship. Jo especially I think would just absolutely love having an older s/o especially if they are really tiny, he would just find it kinda cute, like you got 2 years of age on him, but he's got 20 centimeters of height on you. Harua I think would honestly just love the prince treatment, like he would treat you like a prince/ss, but he can't lie, he prefers the idea of someone looking after him a lot more than him looking after someone else; the type to just love a s/o that does things like remind him to eat lunch, eat dinner, sleeping, and stuff like that.

Doesn't Care:

K and Yuma - I feel like they honestly would not care whether their s/o is younger or older. Like you could be 3 years older than them and they are chill or 2 years younger, they don't care. Like K would just want someone he can easily manhandle, like age doesn't matter to him, whether he can easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you around does matter to him, and he absolutely would be doing that. Like you can't take a rest, he sees you standing there alone and you are just like I'm in danger, no matter what you are doing, like you could be cooking dinner and he's gonna wait until you don't have a knife in your hands, and then he's just gonna throw you over his shoulder and carry you around the house until he decides to throw you on the couch or bed. Yuma is the same, but I feel like he'd really have a thing for nonsexual dominance, things like helping you do your hair or picking your outfit for you, stuff like that. So he honestly wouldn't care your age, he would just change up what he says based on their age, like if you were younger he would be all 'oh my sweet little baby needs help doing their hair', but if they were older he would probably be a bit more of a little shit about it and be all 'oh does my sweet little baby need help doing their hair aren't you older to be able to do it on your own'. They just would not care, I feel neither of them view age as a really important thing.

Younger:

Maki and Taki - I feel like they would want someone closer to their age, like either someone born the same year but after their birthday, or like a year older. They would feel like they can connect better with someone closer to their age, but they would prefer someone younger, they would love the feeling of being the older one, and the idea that their s/o looks up to them both physically and in age. Would probably just feel like they can connect with someone the same age so much better than someone older or really younger than they are. Taki I feel would definitely just prefer someone the same age, he feels like he can understand what they are going through better and they can understand him better, and I feel he'd be really big on communication, so that would the best way to make sure you understand each other really well, being the same age you just understand each other better. Maki I feel would like someone like a year younger since I feel he'd have this idea in his head where he needs to be like a 'real man' and in his mind that means being the older one, but he would feel uncomfortable with someone way way younger than him, and so someone like a year younger just makes sense to him, young enough that he's the older one, but not so young he doesn't feel like he can't connect with them.

Fuma and Nicholas - I feel like they would want someone 2/3 years younger than them, they would enjoy the dominance they would hold over their younger s/o in the situation. I feel like both would absolutely love to give their younger prince/ss treatment, like you are their little baby and will be treated as such. The type to just want to baby their s/o constantly, and make sure they never had to worry about anything or need anything. Nicholas I feel would love to tease their younger s/o, but still absolute prince/ss treatment besides that, would absolutely be a little shit, especially if they are shorter than him, the type of put things you need on high shelves so he can be like 'oh does my sweet little short s/o need me to get them something'. Fuma I feel would just love being the older in the relationship, the idea of being your prince and you relying on him for things would be something he loves.

stop i agree i agree ‼️‼️ ( i just saw this please bare with me) 😭😭

[chuuyasheaven]

» Rei’s 400 follower special !! «

Summary; 400 follower event/special!!! TW: THIS IS A NSFW EVENT ONLY. Minors can request/ interact if they want- I’m not stopping y’all!!

Notes (from me); AHH FINALLY!! IM SO FUCKING THANKFULL FOR ALL THE SUPPORT, SO TO SHOW IT, ILL ARRANGE THIS SPECIAL EVENT FOR BSD Characters (NSFW) !!

RULES (from Rei);

This Event is different from all the others i started, because one; i will let you request, but also chose some drabbles/fics myself!

THINGS I’LL WRITE FOR;

Bungo stray dogs [Bsd] Men/boys:

Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Kunikida Doppo, Atsushi Nakajima, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Ranpo Edogawa, Egdar Allen Poe.

If you request something like: “Could you do Chuuya with prompt/number (-) and please make it start/end with fluff ?” Because, i need to learn to get better at my fluff writing lol.

You can choose from;

Fem!/afab!/gender neutral!Reader

THINGS I WON’T WRITE FOR;

Any underage ppl. (Kyoka, Elise, Q, Kenji)

MORI IS A BIG NO-NO (I’m sorry but idk how to write for a p3do-)

P!ss kink/Scat play/Vomit/Dub-/Non-con (aka r@pe)/ etc.

Maybe S0mnophilia if it’s consented.

PROMPTS/NUMBERS+K!NKS;

🍓- Number / 🌶- Kinks

🍓;

[ 1 ] “Such a good girl f’me, hm?”

[ 2 ] “If you weren’t such a brat earlier, i would’ve let you cum, darling.”

[ 3 ] “You’re crying? How cute of you, angel..”

[ 4 ] “If you dress like a whore, you get fucked like one. You should know this.” [ 5 ] “If you want it so badly, beg for it. I want to hear your voice, dear.”

[ 6 ] “I know you can take it, darling.”

[ 7 ] “You taste devine, my love. I could taste you for hours.”

[ 8 ] “I feel you soaking up, you must really enjoy this, hm?”

[ 9 ] “At the end of tonight, I'll have you scream my name, angel.”

[ 10 ] “Quit teasing me, darling..”

[ 11 ] “If you keep squirming like this, i might as well hold you in your place, right?”

[ 12 ] “You look so pretty in this dress..please, let me rip it off of you, angel..”

[ 13 ] “Keep quiet, or anyone might see you like this. We don’t want that now, do we?”

[ 14 ] “Only i can make you fall apart like this. This is a sight for me only.”

[ 15 ] “I will fuck this pussy until it’s dripping my cum, understood?”

🌶;

[ 1 ] > Praising k!nk

[ 2 ] > Degrading k!nk

[ 3 ] > Brat taming

[ 4 ] > Bondage k!nk (handcuffs, comfy ropes, ties, etc., as long it’s not to extra!)

[ 5 ] > Roleplay (I’ll try bru)

[ 6 ] > Shower sex

[ 7 ] > Soft/passionate sex

[ 8 ] > Stress relief sex

[ 9 ] > Threesome (please be a little specific)

[ 10 ] > Thigh riding/sex [?] (cock thrusting between them)

That’s all! You can request sub!/switch!Characters, the Reader can be requested with any of these reqs!!

This event will keep up until i have 10-15 fics/drabbles up!!!

[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, Episode 5. Dinna fash, we'll sort it out

The proof is in the pudding: we don't really need to see J&C/S&C all the time on screen, to know an episode is still consistently good, in an overall unexpectedly great season, so far.

Side note: just how hypnotic Bear McCreary's Dance of the Druids must be, to immediately cut all ties to the real world, as you settle on the couch, larva style, with your ice cream (yes! again! B&J's Karamel Sutra Core - more appropriate for last week, but nobody's perfect)?

It would seem this time speed gave precedence to density and even gravitas, because neither war, nor self-assertiveness are jokes. The main theme of the mysteriously named Singapore seems to be the obvious cause and effect relationship between prejudice and miscommunication, or even lack thereof. It doesn't really matter if the year is 1777 or 1979: men will be men, women will be women and idiots will be idiots, regardless of gender or nationality. Tonight, for instance, an accomplished French idiot, which is ironic and a tad unfair to watch, seconds after Bastille Day (this comes from a place of deep love, familiarity and appreciation). But almost all of them will face authoritarian idiocy in this episode: I will let you discover (remember: nothing but minimal spoilers).

Still embarrassed for SS, whose vital signs seem to be on display only when she is a) crying and b) pissed off because of someone or something. For the pub scene with the gang of morons from the plant, she could have borrowed a wealth of JAMMF's expression tricks (for which S is the absolute ace) and I suspect she tried but, yet again, failed to persuade: the only thing that she seems remotely acquainted with is the smirk. And I will not insist on the torturous rendering of maternal love or domestic bliss. I feel merciful tonight and sometimes mercy is just about the same as oblivion (not a word about that vanishing panties scene, do you hear me?). Maybe this is also why RR still seems more relaxed, but perhaps also totally resigned about a situation that must be dealt and be done with a stiff upper lip, for the cause.

Product placement alert, with the Barbour wax jackets and shirts (long time client, here) prominently featured at Lallybroch. Nothing magic. This is a long-term partnership, maybe also S's contribution. Yes, Mordor, that peasant did it again!

A propos of the plant inspection, the tunnel scene sent powerful The Man in the High Castle vibes, from the set to the running through well, something, for lack of a better word. For those who have not seen this excellent series, here's a good Droughtlander plan. It's all about Jude Law and the Japanese guy; and also Philip K. Dick, one of my beloved science-fiction writers, truly a genius.

Spoiler: "You can thank that rotten stew". Ohai, Vandervaart, sweet summer child. Too fleeting a presence on my screen, yet you nailed your scene with Rachel Hunter, which I proclaim my favorite of this episode. The scenery helps, that pre-dawn murky, metallic light is perfect and you found the right balance between disgust, horror, an adrenaline high, fear, uncertainty and yes, unspoken (maybe even unconscious) attraction. Also, a masterful use of voice, pitch and breathing techniques - what's not to like?

A close second but enthusiastic kudos for Young Ian. John Bell is wonderful in his scene with C. which, again, gave me life imitates art vibes. And even more moving is the dense moment with the Cherokee/Scottish son, for I believe that endearing boy with a Fraser smile is Young Ian's.

These jottings are unable and unwilling to ignore S, very busy shaping Jamie's hero stature in short, effective appearances. Something we will probably see in full force next week, when I shall be out of town and not watching. Still, rejoice: the Jottings will be making it a double in two weeks.