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Summary
You're squished between the twins, a whimpering mess as they bite at your shoulders and neck. Wilbur hiked the wedding dress he oh so begged you to wear onto your hips as he pressed his hard-on against your ass. Technoblade had moved to knees, the skirt over him as he nipped at your thighs and palmed you through lace panties they had bought during one of your stops. Hell, they had bought you so many different outfits claiming you'd look good in all of them.
“So good for us, bunny,” Wilbur mutters, fingertips trailing down your stomach. You whine softly, pushing against Technoblade’s face when he kisses you through the panties. “No one else can have you like this.” He squeezed your chest, pinching one of your nipples between his thumb and index. “You’re ours. No stupid prince can take you from us.” Technoblade hums in agreement, sucking another hickey onto your thigh.