A/N: A weird little tale that popped into my head. No SI, can you believe that?! The characters are aged up, how much is up to you. Still, have a loli and shota warning. This features some Yor x Damian and Loid x Becky.
Anya's birthday party was in full swing. The living room was a chaotic mess of streamers, balloons, and snack crumbs. Kids ran around, high on sugar and poor decision-making, while Loid and Yor did their best to keep things from devolving into complete anarchy.
"Mother! Help! Juice emergency!" Anya cried dramatically, holding up an empty cup as if she had just discovered a great injustice.
Yor, ever the devoted mother, rushed to refill Anya's drink with the urgency of a soldier being deployed. However, in her haste, her elbow caught a nearby juice carton, sending a full wave of bright red fruit punch directly onto Damian Desmond's expensive white suit.
Silence fell over the room.
Damian blinked. "My Stella-worthy attire…" he muttered in horror, looking down at the massive stain like it was a personal betrayal.
Yor gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh no! I am so, so sorry, Damian!" She grabbed his arm with unexpected strength, nearly yanking him off his feet. "Come with me! We need to clean you up right away before the stain sets!"
Damian barely had time to process before he was whisked away toward the bathroom, his feet barely touching the ground.
Inside the bathroom, Yor shut the door and immediately got to work. She grabbed a towel, ran it under the sink, and began patting at Damian's soaked suit. "This should come out if we act fast," she said, dabbing furiously.
Damian stood there stiffly, still processing the fact that the world's strongest housewife had just abducted him.
Yor frowned as the juice stubbornly clung to the fabric. "Oh no… we might have to take this off. I'll just help you—"
Without waiting, she began undoing the buttons of his jacket, then his shirt, her motherly instincts overriding any potential awkwardness.
Damian, meanwhile, was frozen in place, caught between pure panic and a profound existential crisis. "W-Wait, I can do it my—"
But it was too late. Yor had already pulled the shirt off.
And then she saw it.
Her hands stopped mid-motion. Her breath caught. Her brain completely short-circuited a bit.
Damian Desmond, a mere schoolboy in her mind up until now, was more hung than her husband.
A single bead of sweat dripped down Yor's forehead. "Oh," she said.
Damian, utterly unaware of the comparison taking place in Yor's mind, was too busy panicking about his state of dress and Yor's stares. "Uh… is something wrong?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably.
Yor snapped out of her trance, realizing she had been staring just a second too long. "N-No! Nothing at all! Everything is normal! Completely normal!" she blurted, her voice an octave too high. She aggressively resumed scrubbing his chest with the towel, trying to erase both the juice before they stain.
Meanwhile, in the Living Room
Loid was enjoying a rare moment of peace, chatting politely with the other parents. That peace was shattered when Becky suddenly appeared at his side, looking suspiciously smug.
"Hey, Mr. Forger," she said, barely containing her laughter.
Loid turned, already wary. "Yes?"
"I think your wife is about to have an awakening in the bathroom."
Loid blinked. "…Pardon?"
Before Becky could explain, a loud THUNK echoed through the apartment—followed by Yor's panicked voice shouting, "I'M SORRY! I TRIPPED! PLEASE DON'T TELL YOUR FATHER!"
Loid sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Yor, still recovering from the shocking revelation about Damian's… proportions, desperately tried to focus on the task at hand—washing his suit. She turned on the sink, grabbed a fresh towel, and attempted to drown both the juice stain and her intrusive thoughts in cold water.
Unfortunately, Yor's luck with liquid substances that day was abysmal.
As she bent forward to scrub the fabric, her foot slipped on a rogue puddle of water. In an instant, Yor lost her balance and lurched forward—slamming her hip against the sink, knocking over the soap dispenser, and sending an arc of cold water spraying directly at her chest.
Damian watched in slow motion as the entire front of Yor's elegant white dress darkened and clung tightly to her form. The thin fabric became practically translucent, revealing everything underneath.
Yor's eyes widened as she slowly looked down. Damian's entire face went nuclear red.
"…Oh dear," Yor whispered, her arms belatedly flying up to cover herself.
Damian, now experiencing the greatest and most terrifying moment of his life simultaneously, immediately spun around. "I-I-I-I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING! I SWEAR!"
"D-Damian! Please don't panic!" Yor frantically patted herself down with the same soaking wet towel, only making the situation worse. The dress clung tighter, every curve accentuated, every movement sending droplets of water down her now-exposed skin.
"I AM ABSOLUTELY PANICKING," Damian choked, trying and failing to maintain his honor. 'Why was this happening? This was just a birthday party! There was supposed to be cake and presents, NOT THIS!'
Yor, still drenched and flustered, grabbed a dry towel and attempted to fix everything. Instead, she whipped around too fast—accidentally slapping Damian across the face with her boobs.
THWAP!
Damian staggered backward. "HUH—?!"
His foot hit a rogue bottle of shampoo on the floor. In the blink of an eye, he tripped backward, arms flailing wildly.
Yor gasped, instinct taking over. Without thinking, she lunged forward to catch him, only for them to BOTH slip on the wet floor and collapse in a tangled heap.
Back in the Living Room.
Loid sipped his tea, forcing himself to remain calm despite the distant "KYYYAAAA!" and "AAAHHHH!" echoing from the hallway.
Becky, still watching him with a knowing grin, leaned in casually. "Sooooo… how secure are you in your marriage?"
"Very," Loid answered, wondering why Becky was asking such a thing.
When Yor and Damian collapsed onto the slick bathroom floor, the chaos of their fall found Yor unexpectedly positioned with her breasts pressed against Damian's crotch. A moment of stunned silence ensued, the tension palpable in the air.
"OK! I WON'T TELL!" Damian yelled back, his face becoming a shade of red deeper than the spilled juice that had started this entire fiasco.
Damian, feeling the warmth and softness against him. His body reacted before his mind could process the embarrassment, betraying him in the worst possible way. Yor, feeling the unmistakable hardness beneath her, realized what had happened.
"Oh, this is... my fault," Yor murmured, her voice a mix of confusion and misguided responsibility. As a skilled assassin used to dealing with high-stakes and delicate situations, her next thought was straightforward—if somewhat misplaced—problem-solving.
"Damian, I believe I have caused you considerable distress," she said, looking into his eyes with an earnest yet entirely inappropriate determination. "I should assist you in resolving this... tension."
Damian, who had spent his adolescence in elite schools being taught propriety above all, was now experiencing a complete system shutdown. "Um, Mrs. Forger, I don't think that's how—"
But Yor was already moving, her hands setting with a spy's precision but a novice's understanding of the current context. "It is only right," she insisted, she pulled down his underwear with an assassin's efficiency but completely out-of-context purpose.
Meanwhile, Loid, ever the professional spy, had sensed that the situation might need monitoring so he might be able to manage any potential fallout. He and Becky had found a more secluded spot near the bathroom to better assess the situation.
Loid held a small listening device, a tool of his trade, which he discreetly placed against the wall. His face was the picture of neutrality, trained to keep emotions at bay regardless of the circumstances.
Becky, on the other hand, was less reserved. "Wow, Doctor Forger, aren't you worried? I mean, your wife and Damian are pretty... um, tangled up in there."
Loid adjusted the device, his ears catching snippets of the conversation—Yor's earnest offer to help, Damian's flustered responses. "Jealous of what?" Loid asked, his attention focused. "Besides, Yor is handling a misunderstanding. I trust her judgment... generally."
"Generally?" Becky echoed, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Yes, well, operati- I mean, one must always be prepared for unexpected variables," Loid replied smoothly.
Becky just gave Loid a deadpan look.
In the bathroom, Yor quickly readjusted her approach when she noticed Damian's gaze lingering intently on her chest. Her conclusion was simple—this was the cause of his distress, and thus, using her spy logic, it could also be the solution. Misguided in the civilian nuances of intimacy but always intent on fulfilling her mission, Yor decided to employ her assets more directly.
"Perhaps this will be more effective," Yor suggested, her tone still carrying the efficiency of a professional, albeit in a completely unconventional operation. She pulled down the strap of her dress, exposing her breasts in their full glory, and moved closer to Damian, positioning herself so that her breasts were directly in line with his erection. Yor attempted to encircle him with her breasts, but Damian's size proved more than she could fully encompass. She did her best, creating a tight, stimulating press that sent waves of sensation through Damian.
Damian, for his part, was beyond the ability to form coherent sentences. The warmth, the soft pressure, and the sheer unexpectedness of Yor's actions were overwhelming. He lay back, his eyes wide, breathing heavily as Yor moved with an awkward determination, trying to navigate this new tactic.
Outside, Loid and Becky continued to listen. Loid's expression remained unreadable as he listened to ensure "nothing out of hand" was happening. Becky, however, found the muffled noises of pleasure coming through the listening device increasingly arousing. She edged closer to Loid, her interest piqued not just by the situation but also by Loid, whose cool demeanor somehow made him more attractive to her at that moment.
Unaware of Becky's growing interest, Loid focused on the sounds. He could hear Yor's steady breathing, punctuated by Damian's more erratic gasps.
Meanwhile, Yor continued her efforts, adjusting her angle and pressure as she listened closely to Damian's reactions. The room was filled with the sounds of his pleasure, his breaths quickening. Yor, realizing the effectiveness of her actions, doubled her efforts, determined to resolve the situation with the same precision she applied to her missions.
Damian couldn't hold back the building pleasure any longer. Overwhelmed by Yor's unexpected skill and the sheer taboo of the situation, he reached his climax. His dick twitched and sputtered, spraying cum all over Yor's face and breasts.
Back outside, Becky, now practically leaning against Loid, whispered a bit too breathily, "Wow, they really seem to be handling things in there, huh?" Her hand brushed against Loid's arm, her body language shifting from casual interest to something more deliberate.
Loid, ever the observer, finally noted Becky's change in demeanor. He turned slightly to address her, "Yes, it seems the situation is... resolved," he replied, his voice calm but his mind noting the new variable now pressing subtly against his side.
Yor helped Damian to his feet, her cheeks flushed slightly even if she didn't fully understand why.
"I believe that was effective," she stated matter-of-factly, missing the humor and absurdity of her own statement.
Damian, still recovering, managed a nod, his earlier composure completely shattered by the intensity of Yor's help. "Yes, Mrs. Forger... very effective," he agreed, unsure whether he was more relieved or embarrassed about the entire ordeal.
Damian managed to pull himself to a somewhat upright position. As he did, his gaze inadvertently fell on Yor as she bent over the sink to clean herself. The outline of her ass, accentuated by the tight fabric of her dress which still clung to her from the earlier spill, was distinctly visible. The sight sent a fresh wave of arousal through him, reigniting his desire with surprising speed. His body responded almost instantly, becoming hard again.
As Yor straightened up, she caught the renewed look of desire in Damian's eyes and following his gaze, quickly realized the effect her figure had on him. She paused, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.
"It appears the situation isn't fully resolved," she noted, half to herself and half to Damian, who was once again visibly aroused.
Damian, embarrassed yet undeniably aroused, managed a sheepish smile. "Uh, sorry, Mrs. Forger."
Yor, always the problem solver, albeit in her uniquely direct way, nodded understandingly. "It's quite alright, Damian. These reactions are natural," she reassured him, her voice filled with maternal warmth.
Outside the bathroom, Becky had become increasingly aware of Loid's physical response to the auditory stimuli from the room. Seizing the moment, Becky decided to test the waters. She moved closer to Loid, her hand reaching over casually to brush against his side, then boldly making its way down to graze his now-hardening part.
"So, Doctor Forger, you seem pretty invested in this 'field research.' Does it always get this... intense?" she teased, her voice low and flirtatious.
"Well, research can sometimes uncover... unexpected results," he replied, maintaining his composure.
"Maybe we need a bit of 'field research' ourselves, to understand the... mechanics better," she suggested, her tone playful yet charged with an unmistakable hint of desire.
Loid looked at Becky with a raised eyebrow.
Back in the bathroom, Yor addressed Damian with a calm that contrasted sharply with their situation. "Damian, we should perhaps take a different approach. It seems the conventional methods are not sufficient for your... condition."
Damian, his breath quickening again at the prospect, nodded, his earlier embarrassment overshadowed by the intense physical need. "Yes, Mrs. Forger, whatever you suggest."
Yor noticed Damian's gaze lingering on her posterior and quickly deduced the source of his renewed arousal. With a practical, albeit slightly unorthodox decision, she recalled her limited experiences with Loid and guessing at what might be effective. She turned towards the toilet with its seat down and bent over it, smoothly lifting the back of her dress. She glanced over her shoulder at Damian.
"Damian, it appears my... posterior has caught your attention again," Yor stated, her voice even. "If this is the stimulus, then logically, it should serve as the method of relief. You may proceed as necessary."
Damian, now faced with a direct invitation and the startlingly enticing view of Yor's exposed backside, felt his heart race. The combination of her tone and the intimate exposure was overwhelming but undeniably arousing. He stepped forward, his hands tentatively reaching out to position himself behind her, his earlier hesitation washed away by the surge of desire.
Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, the atmosphere had thickened with a similar tension. Becky had begun to act on her desire. Her hand slipped to Loid's crotch, deftly unzipping him while keeping an eye on his reaction. Loid, trained to maintain composure in the situations, found this personal test unexpectedly challenging.
Becky's fingers wrapped around Loid's erect cock, her movements confident and calculated to provoke. Loid exhaled sharply, the sensation breaking through his disciplined facade. "Becky, this is highly irregular," he managed to say, his voice strained with a mix of conflict and pleasure.
"Maybe," Becky whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his ear as she began to stroke him slowly, "but they are doing it in there. There is no reason we can't do it out here."
Back in the bathroom, Damian had begun to move with more certainty, his initial hesitance giving way to a driven rhythm, encouraged by Yor's stillness and the unspoken consent evident in her steady posture. The sounds of fabric rustling and soft, rhythmic motions filled the small room as Damian found his pace, guided by the provocative sight before him.
After a few moments, Yor, realizing that Damian was limiting himself to merely rubbing against her and decided to further clarify the boundaries of the encounter. "Damian, you seem restrained," she observed, her voice composed as she glanced back over her shoulder. "You can do more than this if you need to."
Yor reached down and pulled her panties aside, exposing her pussy to Damian's startled gaze. She carefully spread herself open with her fingers. "If it provides better relief, you may enter here," she instructed, her tone as direct and matter-of-fact as if discussing a tactical maneuver.
Damian, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and arousal, nodded slowly. The explicit permission and the direct view of Yor's most intimate area overwhelmed any remaining restraint he had. He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing briefly at the threshold before pushing forward, entering her with a cautious but firm thrust.
Outside the bathroom, Loid's attention was split between the faint sounds coming from the bathroom and the more immediate distraction provided by Becky. Becky, sensing his divided attention, decided to capitalize on the moment. She reached up, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, her other hand boldly exploring below his belt.
"Loid, you're not really listening, are you?" Becky teased, her voice a blend of amusement and provocation as she maneuvered to refocus his attention entirely on her.
Loid, caught between his professional instincts and the growing arousal stoked by Becky's daring touches, made a decision. With a swift movement borne of his spy training, he lifted Becky, pinning her against the nearby wall. The surprise in her eyes was quickly replaced by a flash of excitement.
As he slid her panties aside, Loid leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. "I suppose it's better to handle one task thoroughly before returning to another," he murmured, entering her wet hole with a direct thrust that elicited a sharp gasp from Becky.
Yor guided Damian with quiet instructions, her hands encouraging his hips to find a rhythm that suited the newfound depth of their connection.
"Steady, Damian. Maintain your pace," she coached, her voice steady despite the escalating pleasure. Damian's size, significantly more substantial than what she was accustomed to with Loid, filled her in ways that sparked new sensations, stretching and stimulating with each deep thrust.
"Mrs. Forger... are you okay?" Damian managed between thrusts, concerned by the intensity of Yor's reactions—her face flushed, her eyes closed in concentration.
"Yes, just... continue," Yor gasped out, her hands gripping the edges of the toilet for stability. The sensation of being so thoroughly filled heightened the pleasure coursing through her. Each of Damian's thrusts pushed against new, sensitive areas inside her, drawing moans that mixed shock with satisfaction from deep within her.
Loid was finding his own rhythm against Becky, pressing her against the wall with a controlled force that left no room for doubt about his intentions. Becky's legs were wrapped around his waist and her skirt hiked up as Loid drove into her with a consistent rhythm.
"Becky, tell me if this is too much," Loid said, his voice low and slightly rough from exertion as he adjusted his angle to deepen his strokes.
"No, it's... it's perfect. Keep going," Becky encouraged, her voice breathy and breaking with each of Loid's powerful thrusts. The cold wall against her back contrasted sharply with the heat of their bodies, the friction of his movements sending waves of pleasure radiating through her. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel his body pressed even tighter against hers.
Damian's uncertainty had evaporated, replaced by a growing confidence as he felt Yor responding to him so vividly. The visual of her bent over, coupled with the sensual sounds she made, drove him to explore further, his hands moving to her hips to pull her back onto him with more force.
"Like this?" Damian asked, a hint of vulnerability in his question as he sought confirmation that his actions were pleasing her.
"Yes, just like that," Yor affirmed, her breath catching as Damian hit a particularly sensitive spot. The pleasure was building inside her, a crescendo that felt all-consuming, her entire focus narrowed down to the overwhelming sensations Damian was eliciting from her body.
Loid and Becky were also approaching their peak, their movements desperate and unyielding. Loid's grip tightened around Becky, his thrusts growing erratic as he neared climax.
"Becky, I'm—" Loid started, his voice strained.
"I know, me too," Becky interrupted, her words tumbling out amidst sharp intakes of breath. Loid's relentless pace had her teetering on the edge of her own climax.
As Damian and Yor reached their climax inside the bathroom, Yor's body trembled with the force of her release, her cries muffled against her arm as Damian followed shortly after. He followed his instinct and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Yor to hold her close as his cock spurt shot after shot of cum deep inside her.
Outside, Loid and Becky climaxed together, their bodies tensing in unison, a mutual release that left them clinging to each other as they sought to catch their breath.
"Again~" Becky moaned breathlessly.
"Mrs. Forger, I'm still-" Damian managed, his voice unsteady as he found himself still fully hard inside Yor.
After several intense encounters, both Damian and Becky found themselves physically spent, their energy depleted by the day's unexpected activities. Yor and Loid, experienced in maintaining their composure no matter the circumstance, took charge of returning the situation to some semblance of normalcy. Yor adjusted Damian's clothes meticulously, ensuring no signs of their earlier activities were visible, while Loid did the same with Becky, straightening her dress and smoothing back her hair with a practiced hand.
When Yor emerged from the bathroom with Damian, she found Loid waiting outside, Becky by his side, both looking as if they had just had quite the workout themselves. Yor's eyes narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but in recognition. Her training allowed her to put together the pieces quickly; the disheveled hair, the slightly flushed cheeks, and the way Loid avoided direct eye contact all told a story he hadn't spoken aloud.
Despite her quick deduction, Yor maintained a perfect poker face. Loid, similarly trained though unaware of Yor's similar profession, mirrored her calm demeanor. He gave Yor a small nod and a smile.
"Did the party go smoothly?" Yor asked, her voice even, as if she was merely asking about a routine errand.
"Absolutely," Loid replied, with a practiced ease that gave nothing away. "Just a little mishap with the juice. All sorted now."
Damian and Becky, now composed, exchanged awkward glances but remained silent, each processing their own experiences and the unspoken agreement that what happened was to remain confidential. They subtly nodded to each other, a silent pact formed in the chaos of shared secrets.
Meanwhile, back at the party, Anya had been having her own kind of fun while trying to ignore what was going on with her parents. Despite her young age, Anya was not oblivious to the complexities of adult behavior—thanks in no small part to her ability to read minds. She had picked up on the disjointed thoughts of her parents and the embarrassed groans of their partners throughout the afternoon. Anya, sitting amid a pile of gift wrappers and half-eaten cake, shook her head slightly, a sigh escaping her lips.
Sitting amidst a sea of gift wrap and balloons, Anya cringed inwardly at the thoughts swirling around her—groans of embarrassment, flashes of pleasure, and snippets of hastily suppressed memories echoed silently through her mind. Unlike her parents, whose lives as spies had often sheltered them from the mundane realities of ordinary social cues, Anya had developed a keen sense of common sense and discretion from observing her schoolmates and friends.
"Mommy and Daddy are weird," Anya thought to herself, a slight frown creasing her brow as she picked up another toy from the pile of birthday gifts. She loved her adopted parents and was old enough to understand that adults sometimes did strange things, but today's revelations were still a lot to process.
Deciding that some things might be better off discussed (or maybe not discussed at all), Anya made a mental note to perhaps seek advice from her plush toy, Mr. Penguin, who was her confidant in all matters confusing. For now, she would play the part of the oblivious birthday girl, delighted with her presents and the cake, which thankfully knew nothing of adult embarrassments.
"Let's get back to the party, shall we? Anya will be wondering where we've all been," Yor suggested, her tone light, almost cheerful, as she steered the conversation away from any potentially dangerous waters.
As they walked back to the living room, where the sounds of children's laughter and the chaos of a birthday party resumed, Loid and Yor fell into step with each other. Their conversation was superficial, discussing mundane details of the party and what was left to do. Underneath the banal exchange, however, was a new layer of mutual understanding—each aware that the other had secrets, though unaware of just how deep those secrets ran.
Neither Loid nor Yor allowed even a hint of what had transpired to affect their professional façade. They were, after all, master spies, adept at compartmentalizing and controlling their emotions. The party continued without a hitch, with Anya "none the wiser" to their "adult complications" beneath the surface.
As the party drew to a close, Yor and Loid thanked the guests for coming, their smiles a perfect mask of parental pride and joy. Anya hugged her friends goodbye, her mind still reeling slightly from the mental images she wished she could unsee.
"Thank you, everyone! I had the best birthday!" Anya declared with all the enthusiasm she could muster, waving as the last of her friends headed out the door with their parents.
"A successful day, all things considered," Loid commented, his voice neutral but he remembered the pleasant "meeting" with Becky.
"Very successful," Yor agreed, allowing herself a small smile while thinking of the bathroom incident too. "Anya had a wonderful time."
In the background, Anya facepalmed.