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nanamiskentos · 4 months ago

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BED CHEM— geto suguru minors dni. art by to00fu !

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (b) and let the show begin !

prologue. → ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. geto suguru x afab!reader

warnings+. awful usage of brainrot slang to weird geto out (mission successful), making out, messy sèx, crèampiè, nothing crazy !

word count. 5k! song inspiration. bed chem — sabrina carpenter

a/n. happy 1 month birthday to this blog!!!!!! 😭 kind of fitting that i celebrate with a geto fic <3

mp3. where art thou? why not uponeth me? see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy !

"hey," you say, holding up the dress and crinkling the red satin in your fingers, "what'd you think of this one?"

it's a gorgeous number, a sheer, corset bodice with a daring thigh-high slit, all set to softly drape off your shoulders. the kind of dress that screams 'sexy without trying too hard' and 'television heroine vampire heiress'. your goal in life.

geto doesn't even glance up from his latest obsession, crouched by the kitchen counter. he's eye level with a pavlova, drizzling raspberry glaze over it like he's performing surgery. without missing a beat, "it's cool. for someone desparate in witness protection," he deadpans.

you scoff, clutching the gown like the aforementioned television heroine, "you just say weird shit sometimes. what does that even mean? and a day one hater, didn't even look up..."

"and yet," geto mutters, still hyper-focused on his dessert, "i know i'm right."

you throw the dress onto the couch dramatically, "suguru, you bought this dress for me."

that gets your boyfriend's attention and he looks up, catching the gleam of familiar red satin, and visibly gulps, "oh. my bad. it's, uh, hot you'd look hot, i mean."

"nice save, baby," you arch a brow.

he tosses his inky black hair back, some of it falling right back into his face, "what's it for?"

you sigh, propping your legs up on the worn couch, "that big party, remember? my friend who got married and had a kid last year, y'know her right?"

geto hums, popping a fresh blueberry into his mouth, without taking his eyes off the pavlova, "mmph," he says through a mouthful, "the one who married the guy who cheated on her like thrice?"

you grin, delighted he remembers the gossip you've spoon fed to him over time, "yeah, well, apparently he tried making it up to her by buying her an entire condo."

geto wrinkles his nose in disgust, "tacky. ya' just can't buy class."

"totally," you sigh, "but it's so nice in there. and when she hosts parties there, i can't really complain. it's like, so gorgeous."

then, you glance back at your focused boyfriend, watching as he artfully arranges more berries atop the meringue, "mhm, speaking of gorgeous, are you gonna stand there making love to the pavlova all night, or are you gonna help me accessorise this thing?"

geto glances at you, his violet eyes narrowing playfully, "why so needy? jealous of whipped egg whites and sugar?"

you flop your arms to your sides with a dramatic sigh, "what if i am?"

geto exhales as though you are his most tiresome, and favourite thing in the entire world. grabbing a silver spoon from the cutlery rack, and dipping it into the sticky-sweet raspberry glaze. he's striding towards you, and there's that signature air of both exasperation and amusement, "open."

you comply, simply because dessert trumps dignity, and not before biting down on the spoon with unnecessary force just to mess with him. the glaze simply melts on your tongue, and you smack your lips, "mmm. wait, this shit's really good. what's it for?"

geto laughs, stepping closer to swipe his warm thumb across your bottom lip to catch a stray bit of glaze, "for us, jus' us. thought we'd have something sweet for christmas."

you clutch your chest like a damsel, "i thought i was your sweet thing for christmas."

your dear boyfriend rolls his eyes, swatting your arm lightly with the sticky spoon, leaving a smear of glaze, "tch, what am i gonna do with you?"

you gasp in mock outrage at the sensation, but geto's expression shifts, softening as he swings a knee up onto the arm of the couch, "wan' me to come with ya?"

you blink, thrown off from his hauntingly beautiful features that you'll never get tired of, "come with me where?"

"that party, love."

your jaw practically hits the floor, "wait, really? you actually want to? thought you hated these things?"

geto's lips quirk upwards, shrugging a shoulder, "the things i do for my pretty girlfriend."

cue the squeal. exaggerated just enough to irritate him, just a bit. you clutch his arm, bouncing slightly, "aw! you really do love me!"

geto's exasperated look cracks, softening into something far more quiet and fond. he places a hand on your head, ruffling through your hair just enough to make you scowl at the mess, "don't push your luck," he warns. but his tone betrays his amusement, "i just feel bad i haven't gone to any of the others with you."

"i'm glad you said that, though, suguru," you start, already scheming as you lean forward and rest your head on his knee like its the most natural pillow in the world. he lets out a soft puff of breath, almost instinctively leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

"remember those high-waisted pants i said would look really good on you?"

geto frowns, "the ones you said made me look like a...and i quote, a slutty mushroom?"

"bingo. you should wear them. the world deserves to see your delicious gyatt —"

your baiting words are accentuated by a pinch to the back of his dark sweatpants but cut off by his sharp exhale, and the way his fingers, which had been lazily tracing the curve of your ear, freeze mid-motion.

"my what, love?" geto asks, his tone a mix of suspicious and the kind of dread reserved for people who know they're about to regret asking a question.

"gyatt," you repeat, completely unrepentant, no shame nor misery, "it means —"

"i know what it means," geto cuts in, deadpan with a faint and tell-tale blush creeping onto his tan skin, "i'm cutting off our wifi. all our electricity actually."

you laugh, patting his muscular thigh lightly before squeezing it again for good measure, "oh, so you do know what it means. that's embarrassing for you, babe."

"and yet, somehow, i still have the moral high ground," geto grouches, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you say that i say weird shit. now you're bringing gojo's tiktok fuckery into my own home."

"first of all, it's our home," grabbing the red dress and standing, almost knocking him off the couch's arm, "second of all, my big and tall and beautiful boyfriend is such a cutie patootie when he's embarrassed."

geto groans, tilting his head back, "stop. you're emasculating me."

you pause in the doorway, "you cry everytime we watch strawberry shortcake. you do that shit to yourself."

"that was one time!" geto protests, but you can hear the smile colouring his voice.

"two times."

"the mermaid episode was emotionally poignant. power of friendship and moral honesty despite the promise of treasure," he calls after you, "you wouldn't get the timeless themes!"

well, mission accomplished. the dress fits you like a second skin, hugging all the right places. and you're not even ashamed of how long you spend admiring yourself in the mirror. the way the corset lifts your chest, well, it's definitely giving hot and sexy vampire now.

you delicately pat a glitter bomb compact over your skin, letting the soft shimmer catch the light on your collarbones and shoulders. it's a fine balance, you think, but you know there's a fine line between 'faintly glittered-up' and looking like 'fenty beauty just projectile-vomited rosé rave' all over you.

"suguru!" you call out, expecting a snarky reply but hearing nothing. typical. "suguru!" you yell again, just because you can. you wander out of the bedroom, only to find him already in position: stretched across the couch, legs draped lazily over the armrest.

and fuck, he looks good. wearing those wide-legged pants you suggested, and obviously, you were right about them. a crisp white top with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. geto's hair is pulled back into that high, slightly messy knot he's so fond of, but a rogue and choppy strand has escaped, brushing against his cheek.

the whole look screams 'effortlessly hot' and you can imagine how smug he'd be if he knew what you were thinking.

"oh. hey, love," he greets casually, scrolling through his phone and still draped over the couch like a catalog model who knows all his angles. but then geto looks up, and the phone nearly slips out of his hand.

"uhhh, hey," he says, his eyes widening as he takes you in, and his rosewood lips part, as he says it again, clearly dumbfounded, "hey."

you laugh, crouching down next to him, amused by the way he's visibly short-circuiting, "not bad yourself," you tease, "what were you looking at?"

before he can stop you, you lean in to peak at geto's phone, pressing yourself against his side. glitter from your collarbones transfers onto his skin, but you're too busy laughing at his dimly lit screen to notice.

"suguru!" you gasp, your shoulders beginning to tremor, "fuckass yahoo answers, of all places. wait — i can't believe people still use that. stop moving your phone, let me read!"

is it good or bad if my girlfriend says i have a gyatt?

geto's ears turn deliciously red, and he locks his phone with an exaggerated click, "okay. nosy mcgee," and he's grumbling, "makin' me sound like a loser."

you pat his cheek lightly, grinning like a cheshire cat, "it means i think you're scrumptious," you say with mock seriousness, "like top-tier snackish. like, as in, i like your ass."

geto huffs, his lips twitching despite himself. and then, leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. you wrinkle it instinctively, thinking of all the concealer and powder you had layered earlier.

"well," he says, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "i think you're pretty too."

you sigh dramatically, "just pretty? why did i end up with a nonchalant man?"

geto gasps, his mauve eyes widening in mock offence as he juts his lip forward, "hah, 'scuse me. i'm not nonchalant. i'm like the total opposite of nonchalant. i'm like...chalant."

you snort, catching his stray fingers as they linger close enough to your lips for you to playfully nip at them, "yes. you are. my very chalant boyfriend. what a hero."

geto rolls over to his side, so he's facing you. absolutely wrinkling his white shirt, "thank you for recognising my efforts."

but then his tone shifts, his gaze running over you, "but seriously, you look hot. like crazy hot. like wow, my girlfriend is insanely hot," and he leans in slightly, "and i jus' can't stop looking at your two, beautiful, perfect..."

it hits you that his gaze has dropped to the swell of your chest.

"suguru! my eyes are up here, you dog."

"shit, been caught." and he's still laughing at your grumbles, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up in one swift motion, dragging you alongside him towards the bedroom.

"hey!" you protest half-heartedly, trying to dig your heels into the carpet, "the front door's the other way, genius. we're gon' be late."

geto doesn't stop his stride, glancing back at you with a pleading look that's also smug at the same time, "yeah, but you're the one who looks like that. don't think i can function. i need a minute."

"geto suguru, everybody. one-minute wonder. all he needs to finish."

you hear your boyfriend's scoff, as a teasing laugh escapes him, "hah, can't help being like this, can ya? got a gold medal when it comes to pissing me off."

you smile sweetly, "it's because i love you."

geto rolls his rich-plum eyes, his hand guiding you towards the bed as he shakes his head, "you know i love you too, right?"

"duh."

"good," geto says, and with that, he's leaning in. pressing a hot kiss to your jaw, then moving to your waiting mouth. it's messy, sloppy, the kind that makes your pussy clench a bit. sue you, eh? it's just the effect that geto suguru has on you.

you let out a soft whine as his tongue smears across your satin-finished, ruby lips, perfectly lined not ten minutes ago. but then geto's pulling away, circling his finger lazily in the air. a wordless demand that leaves your thighs clenching in anticipation.

you playfully huff, but spin yourself away from him. planting yourself on all fours, hearing geto grunt as he seems to appreciate the view. tsk, your predictable, eager boyfriend.

his large hand is running slowly down your spine, like he's savouring the way the satin clings to you. it's sending shivers down your body, and you're certain that if geto were to push your dress up and cup your core with a large hand, he'd pull it away wet and dripping.

"ah, pretty. so pretty, aren'tcha?" and his fingers are tugging taut at the ruched dress, like he can't quite believe you're real and his. despite three smooth years of professing your love to one another.

"suguru," you protest, "y'know 's not a cheap dress, babe."

you can hear the amusement tinging his smooth voice, "i know. i bought it, remember? don't want you worryin' your pretty lil' head over it."

you let out a soft sigh as you feel him entirely lean his weight over you, enveloping you in that heady scent of leather and cardamom. scooting your ass back, so tight satin would faintly drag across his very pronounced erection.

"f-fuck," and geto's laugh is sharp, disbelieving. half a huff, and half a chuckle, but entirely in awe. broad, warm hands are gliding over you before the gentle press of his palms come to rest on your hips. he's sliding your dress up, letting satin rustle with a soft, whispering sound. leaving your skin exposed to the sudden and sharp kiss of the christmas air.

"wow," geto whistles quietly, appreciatively. he seemed to be enjoying the sheer red thigh-high tights that clung to the plush of your thighs like a second scarlet skin, and you gasp as he hooks a long finger underneath the lace border, snapping it once briefly in a mild sting.

his hands are so close to where you need them most, and it's so utterly infuriating. he's practically dancing his finger tips over your inner thighs, ghosting so close to your underwear. panties that were surely languid, weighty by now. you could feel the damp cotton growing far more slippery and tacky as geto suddenly ran a finger over your clothed cunt.

and you can hear the elation in his voice as he lifts a finger up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around your syrupy taste, "hah, you're practically a super-soaker. that's pretty cool."

you scowl, fighting the urge to swivel around and pounce him in retribution, "y-yeah, thanks," but the bite in your words is tempered by the lazy heat that coils in your stomach, "but you're taking too l-long, baby. can't you jus' -"

and you're deciding to take matters into your own hands, as geto seems fascinated by how thin, clear strands create small bridges between his fingers. you reach for the waistband of his high-waisted pants, running your own hand down his absurdly slender waist, right over a godly chiselled torso.

"y'got impatient, didn't you, love?" and now geto's scowling, hauling your wrist back to pin it behind your back like you foretold. but not before planting a soft press of lips to your inner arm, gentle and tender.

but you flex your fingers behind your back, stretching them out, groping at the air. your boyfriend must have noticed, almost immediately because of course he does, and you can hear a soft, knowing coo from behind you.

"ah, 's what you want, right?" he teases, sliding his cool, slender fingers over yours, intertwining them effortlessly, "just wanted me holdin' your hand, how cute."

"maybe i was j-just stretching," you huff, but squeezing his hand tighter.

geto hums, unconvinced, as his thumb brushes lazily over the back of your hand, and you can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, "sure. totally not begging me to hold your hand like some lovesick, little dove."

but any retort falls away from your tongue, right when you feel something heavy, and hot smack against your tailbone, leaving a faint, moist kiss that feels cold when it patters off, "now pay attention."

you muffle a small, desparate whine, as geto has one hand tangled with yours and the other being used to hold and smack his thick cock once more over the base of your spine, "hope s-she's ready f' me now."

you feel as though all the air has been utterly pushed out of you, just from geto practically splitting you in two. you don't even have to look at geto to know that he's absolutely wrecked already, just from the throbbing, curved tip of his cock pushing past your tight walls, snagging with only the mildest resistance.

you can almost see it in your mind's eye, picturing it all just from his low curses and gasp.

how his chin must have tucked low enough to kiss his sternum, feathery strands of hair spilling over his forehead. those inky lashes fluttering in disbelief and surrender over hazy mauve eyes.

"s-she's always so eager to take me," geto croons, and his eyes are practically glued to the way your puffy folds bulge and drool over his shaft slowly feeding inches into you, "almost there, love."

"look at, hah, t-that," your boyfriend drawls, but you can hear how entirely undone he is, that tremour cutting off the end of his words in a sharp gasp as you arch yourself into him, letting that stretch take you so deliciously.

"keep your back arched like that, love," geto murmurs, and his hands are guiding you, pulling your hips back in a gentle, rhythmic push-and-pull over his cock. leaving you to feel his girthy shaft rummage and jostle around your insides, leaving a hefty divot at the edge of your cervix in a way that has you suddenly keening out a faint moan, "doing s-so well for me."

and fuck, the sound of his groin smacking wet kisses against your ass has you feeling like your head was going to explode, and your heart was going to give out, pressing right up into your throats. but you can tell geto is pleased, ruined even as he slowly drags his cock out of you at a filthy, slow pace.

if only to make you feel every throbbing vein on him, and how it imprints on your gummy walls.

there's something just so right about him being in you like this, having his pretty love bent over and absolutely stuffed full of his cock, something that just makes sense.

and right now, nothing else in the world matters save for you, and geto can't bring himself to even care about deadlines, or a decent and sensible christmas dinner, or some stupid party. not when he's letting his weighty, drooling tip loll out of your folds.

thick and heavy like a heated rod in the cool air of the evening, as he pushes two long fingers to spread open your syrupy folds, running the angry-red tip over your gloss, before finally pushing himself back inside.

"i w-was gonna say it was this dress, love," geto stammers, swirling his hips around, trying to rustle right into you, "but i think it's just you. ya know w-what you do to me right, hah, don'tcha, pretty?"

oh you are more than aware. and that heightened sense of perception is only exacerbated by how the thick curve of his cock is bruising into you. slamming into you with a heavy smack!

geto's world tilts, leaving him teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly early orgasm. but he feels little shame, not when his head is so heavy and his lips sting, caught under the desparate press of his teeth. every shallow breath he takes feeling like it's just unravelling him further, circling the tips of his fingers over your clit, just so you can whine and arch yourself into him more.

geto decides to play that card more, wrapping a thick arm around you to pull you into the air slightly. that faint increase in angle making you buckle as his weeping tip pulls symphonies of thick, angry squelches from your sensitive cunt. each jostle of his sharp, staccato hips feeling more and more shaky.

"not too much, r-right?" geto's breath hitching in uneven bursts, caught somewhere between delirious laughter and incredulous, overstimulated sobs.

that sweet, and unsteady wheeze results in tears pricking at geto's eyes from the delicious heat of your pussy, falling over the feverish nape of your neck, "know you wanted to go o-out, wanted to wear this pretty dress but i think 'm gonna d-die if i stop now, 's okay with you, yeah?"

"not t-too much, suguru," you hiss, feeling crystalline tears pool in your own lashes, just from pure please, "f-fuck, 'm already so close."

and you truly are, he's drilling himself into you at a beastly place, jostling a large hand over your chest, brushing over the lace lining the corset bodice, as if he's desparate to get his hands into your dress, to brush his thumbs over sensitive nipples.

his cock leaving searing trails of precum against your drooling, fluttering walls, leaving behind a wet trail that almost burned you. the force of his crashing hips leaving stamps in their wake, and geto's gasping and groaning at the faint cling of your dewy pussy, snatching him in quick, forceful bursts.

you shuffle precariously, still jostled against him, as you push down the bodice of your dress. probably damaging the framework a bit, but it's so worth it to hear geto almost sigh in relief, letting his hands run over the fat of your tits. pinching, swirling his fingers over the soft skin.

geto thinks he might just collapse over you in a weak heap when he hears your whine, "wan' more, s-suguru."

yes, more. that's exactly what geto wants to give you. he wants to see you milk him dry from the heavy balls swinging against your skin, wants to see you heave breaths of air as his seed drips out of you. wants to have you pressed against him for hours on end, to flip you over so your ankle lock behind his neck.

his imagination must have been working overtime. for like the peak specimen of male virility that he is, geto suguru just ends up cumming instead.

and with an embarrassing, heady grunt from him, geto's pulling his pulsating cock out of your folds, doing his best to keep himself steady enough to use his other hand well.

to keep running his fingers in tight circles around your clit, while he lets his spurting cock pump load after load of translucent, white fluid paint your spine a pretty pearly sheen. coming right on you.

it's so messy, it's so filthy and geto feels mildly numb as he decides to push his still throbbing cock, one that is still spurting right back into you, as he pushes his weight onto you, taking care not to force you too harshly against the crumpled sheets.

and geto just can't help himself, can't stop himself from leaving sloppy, wet kisses to the back of your neck, to your cheek. can't help himself from tilting your face back so his mouth can meet yours, and he can taste that raspberry syrup from earlier on your tongue, sweet and tangy.

and geto doesn't even care that he sounds ruined, raw and brittle. absolutely tattered as he whines, "we d-don't have to go to that party, right? hnngh, jus' need to hear you say that we don't have to, i think 'm gonna need some more of her. milking me so w-well."

he doesn't hear much apart from your gasps, your short cries like a mantra of "ah, ah! suguru!"

you weren't even sure how much time had passed, an hour even. or more. and you vaguely wondered if your friends were still there. sitting at some christmas party in some luxury condo, whispering over flutes of champagne, wondering about where you were. unaware that your adonis-esque boyfriend had been pounding himself into you, stretching you out over his cock until you were seeing heavenly stars.

until you were feeling thick ropes of white paint your insides once more, and streaks of dark dimmed your vision, and mauve and violet flashed behind your eyes.

you're tugging at the hem of your dress, still laughing fondly as you watch geto. his tousled, choppy hair falling out of its knot, and his eyes half-lidded and blissed out. his crumpled white top clings to his lean frame, and he's propped up lazily against the headboard with his other thick arm slung back behind his head.

"give me another hour, and we can do it again, love," geto huffs, his voice still a little raspy from earlier.

you shake your head in amusement, despite the mildly uncomfortable feeling of slick sticking beneath your thighs, splattered over your beautiful dress, "mhm, what a nice way to spend christmas, huh?"

geto stares at you adoringly, and his eyes are heavy with contentment, like he can't quite believe that you're here, and for a second, you think maybe the world would stop right there, in this perfect moment.

he runs a thumb over your face, pressing down on your lower lip, "i think it's better than some party," and geto's tone is dreamy, lazy, "no offence to your friend."

you snicker, thinking about whether you're going to need some well-thought excuse for your dear friend. or whether you're going to spill the whole truth for her.

but just as you're about to pull geto's plush mouth into another lazy kiss, his brow furrows. a sudden, concerned shift in his expression.

"hey," your boyfriend mutters, reaching to find his phone, "what's the humidity like tonight?"

you blink, caught off guard, "humidity? what's it matter?"

well, your skin feels unusually sticky, like the air itself is clinging to your sweat-dampened skin. despite the cool air of the december night. and there's that sweet, pleasant tiredness settling into your bones.

geto's suddenly sitting up, his eyes wide with realisation, "wait, love. fuck," he's muttering, scrambling up to his feet, "the kitchen!"

before you can process what's happening, he's racing for the door, and you stare at the empty spot on the rumpled sheets where your broad boyfriend was sitting not ten seconds ago.

"what is wrong with that man?" you murmur, but you hear a panicked cry from the kitchen, something about that damned pavlova going limp and soft with the heating on.

you bite back a small comment about something else going limp and soft, deciding to save that one for later when he's back in bed.

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buckyschair · 17 days ago

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ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: On a dreaded visit to the Hewn City, Azriel finds more than he bargained for. It’s only fitting that when your wildest fantasies come true in a land of nightmares, it's with a forbidden visitor rather than your own husband… After all, who could be a better affair partner than the master of spies?

A/N: Cheating is wrong! But aesthetically? It’s so rich! Can you tell I’ve been listening to ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know' on repeat? And thanks to other songs like ‘Ivy’ and ‘Illicit Affairs’, an illicit relationship just sounded sexy and sad! So here’s a messy little story about cheating WITH Azriel. Let me know what you think of the reader character, I tried to make her unlikeable at first but then I became sympathetic to her so idk where we ended up.

Content Warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, alcohol, female reader, shitty unnamed husband (not physically abusive), slight dom/bdsm overtones, casual shadow bondage, thigh riding, oral M receiving, PIV sex (no protection bc they are faeries and this is fiction, but put on your mental magic condom if you must), gross liberties taken with whatever’s going on with the Hewn City, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 7.6k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next part

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Wine. A warm bath. Silk sheets.

“Did you see her shoes? With that jewelry?”

Your sapphire hand mirror. A lobster bisque. The perfect shade of red lipstick.

“Oh, did I see them? They practically assaulted me the moment I walked into the hall!”

You took a sharp breath, and continued to block your surroundings with mental images. A massage. The look on your husband’s face when he sees you chatting with another male–

“She has no shame.”

You snorted, abruptly disguising it with a cough. The two ladies looked at you with barely concealed disdain, clearly not convinced by your weak cover up. You schooled your features into a cool mask once more as they drifted away through the throng of guests.

Well then, so much for keeping yourself entertained during this dull gala. You had a pretty pathetic collage of curios to distract yourself with. The concepts were a flimsy screen between you and the stale evening ahead; monotony at its worst.

You’d rather be anywhere but here.

A foolish thought, you realized, given that you’d never been anywhere but here, except for brief diplomatic visits with your husband. Those were always awfully dull, your every movement watched and examined out of suspicion. You couldn’t blame your hosts. After all, you were from the Night Court, spawn of the worst bastards of Prythian.

No shame! You recalled the gossiping courtiers. Now who were they to judge someone for having no shame, when they were here gossiping in front of the Mother and everyone? And in equally appalling finery, no less! One of the two females was actually trying to get away with a bright orange dress. You sighed, almost pitying her for her sorry attempt.

But this was the Hewn City, at the heart of the Court of Nightmares, as it was deemed in hushed whispers. There wasn’t enough air here to waste it on pity.

Faeries of all kinds waltzed and chattered around the ballroom before empty thrones. Gaudy gowns and coats and heels and stoles– was that fur? Mother help us– blurred together as you took in the choked crowd. The decadent buffet? Untouched. The sparkling beverages? Much indulged. Such was typical.

What was the purpose of this event? You couldn’t quite recall. They were endless, these damned things.

What an odious affair. You’d been playing a game in your mind, to keep yourself from going mad. The goal was to picture all your favorite things, everything that brought you solace, and to try and hold them all in your mind at once.

Pointless, you chided yourself. It hadn’t stopped you from being disturbed by the insidious chatter of fellow partygoers. Despite the pleasant premise of the mental game, the montage left a bad taste in your mouth.

You had pictured everything that you looked forward to, and it had all taken up so little space. The game was ended so quickly. Your lips pursed, your good mood gone sour. You blamed the two females for interrupting your train of thought. They’d ruined your concentration, that was it.

You needed a drink. Your glass had been empty for far too long, you noted with displeasure.

Where was your husband anyways? He’d gone off for refreshments a while ago. Probably mixing with the elite, making sure his face was seen. He fancied himself a real big player in the court's inner workings, but you sincerely doubted it. Unfortunately, as the one he fucked most frequently for a number of years there, you knew firsthand how his ego was built on fantasy.

How long had he left you alone here? You couldn’t say. You weren’t exactly minding his absence. Temporary bliss was still bliss, you mused, resolving to find some real entertainment. You clicked your tongue once in distaste before gliding away from the pillar where you’d been camped out for the majority of the function.

Your husband always laughed at how you admired the fabrication of the city. But you couldn’t resist it. The pillar behind you was one of your favorites. Carved of dark stone, hordes of twisting figures decorating its face. They appeared to be in agony at first glance. A closer look revealed that they were in fact artfully engaged in all kinds of fornication. If only all pain could be turned into pleasure as easily as carving ebony.

Fuck, if you weren’t in a philosophical mood this evening. Sober, too.

Your husband was nowhere to be seen, a small mercy. He always hated your moods. You couldn’t blame him, you supposed, but you did regardless.

Right as you made it to a servant with a decanter of amber liquid, the room fell into an uncharacteristic hush. Your fingers plucked a full glass before you turned to scan the room for the cause.

Your eyes fell on the figures advancing from the center of the room as if they’d just appeared there. But of course, they had.

You scolded yourself as you glimpse the High Lord and his entourage.

Of course! How could you have forgotten? After all, that was why your husband had been so insistent on your attending tonight. The High Lord had specifically requested this event be thrown to honor… shit. Something. They did so many of these meaningless parties, often without any real reason, other than to show off that they could.

Your attention turned fully to the newcomers. They cut quite a fine figure. You understood why they caused the room’s collective breath to catch.

A subtle movement to the right of the High Lord grabbed your eye. You couldn’t help your own sharp intake of breath as you noticed the shadows flickering around the imposing Illyrian. In his leathers and simmering blue siphons, there was no mistaking him. It was the shadowsinger.

A thrill escaped down your spine at the realization. You’d heard hushed whispers about the High Lord’s spymaster, but you hadn’t known that he would be here tonight. His menacing quiet was unnerving. It was no wonder that rumor spoke of a seething rage masked by his calm demeanor. He never visited the city under the mountain these days. You wondered absently what he was doing here now.

He held himself with precision, a weapon at the right hand of his Lord. His wings were folded tightly, but it did little to hide their looming presence. The horns hovering over his shoulders only added to his threatening presence. Beneath his wings, his broad shoulders were relaxed, his demeanor casual as he strolled with cool power to stand beside the throne. Once stationed, he crossed his arms, his muscles emphasized with little effort. Fuck. What you wouldn’t do to feel them over you.

Irritation simmered across your chest as your husband sidled up to you, your budding fantasy shattered.

He didn’t so much as look at you as he shoved a glass in your direction. You received it with equal affection, now awkwardly holding two glasses. His attention rested fully on the group by the throne. What an ass.

The perfume on his coat was a scent you would never choose for yourself; it was far too sweet for your tastes. Your nose curled unconsciously– not at his infidelity, but at his poor taste. You hoped he would never buy you a similar perfume. Let him enjoy it on some other tramp.

As it was now, his lust was focused on the conversation at the head of the room. The Steward, Keir, motioned to your husband, and incidentally you, as he spoke to his Lord.

You felt your husband’s excitement, and you were certain it was evident to the blind and the dead as well. You sighed, resigned to the lack of tact that sullied his political sensibilities. He’d been gifted a hunger for power, without the typical tact for courting it. Shameless, the word flashed again in your mind. Yet, you couldn’t deny that he’d secured a decent knowledge of the court’s security in his current position under Keir.

He practically skipped when the Steward gestured for him, and you followed with a more metered step after passing your now-empty drinks off to a nearby attendant with a grimace. Despite your efforts, you knew that dignity was not something you could afford to value in this court. Still, you kept your chin up as you followed your male counterpart, straining at the stifling society. You drowned out his obsequious remarks as introductions were made between the males.

You wished the female one was here, the Morrigan. She made your blood freeze, but you preferred her cool disdain to the slimy males before you. You swallowed your irritation, keeping your face neutral as meetings were arranged.

To cool your mounting headache, you entertained yourself by taking in the shadowsinger out of the corner of your eye. A scant glance rewarded you with a stunning image of the male, who was intently focused on the conversation at hand. His handsome features were darkened with swirling shadows.

He was even better up close. You’d lost count of the instances where you’d caught a pleasant figure across the room only to be disappointed upon closer inspection. But this male was a specimen, indeed.

His dark brows trailed into a strong nose, his strong jaw upheld by a sturdy throat, one that you’d love to sink your teeth into. His hands were thick and scarred. You pictured what they could do to you, how meticulously they could pick you apart, stroke by savage stroke. The tough material of his leathers was snug in all the right places, tight around his massive thighs. Your thoughts erupted with fantasy at the details of his statuesque figure.

What held your attention the most, though, were his eyes. You would expect them to be dark, shadowy. Yet they were a rich amber, and startlingly bright. You flicked your gaze away quickly, but their burn lingered in your ears as if he’d caught your stare outright.

It was a pity he was just standing there. You wondered absently how you could cause a distraction, maybe fainting or starting a fight so you could see him in action. Your fantasies were interrupted as the conversation wrapped up, your husband butchering platitudes that he surely thought charming. You avoided choking on your disdain, but only narrowly.

As you walked away, Azriel released a deep breath. Cassian cleared his throat, a shit eating grin lurking beneath his cool features.

You’d kept your face perfectly pleasant throughout the whole interaction, not so much as a twitch to betray your insidious thoughts. But far be it from you to maintain propriety in the presumed privacy of your own mind...

Little did you know how loud your thoughts were. You couldn’t have hidden them, not from the present company, even if you’d known you ought to. Your thoughts were written in your skin, in your scent, hidden to most, but obvious to the High Lord’s elite.

“Well, well, Azriel. It’s just irresponsible for you to torture our citizens like that,” Rhys teased his brother as you walked out of earshot, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes taking in your generous retreating figure.

“I thought I was going to hurl if she didn’t stop undressing you with her eyes,” Cass drawled, fluttering his lashes in a dramatic imitation.

Azriel just snorted and shook his head.

“Hey Rhys, remember when Azriel was just a fledgling and couldn’t get any?”

“You mean yesterday? Yes,” Rhys responded with equal humor. “Since when was he the most fuckable?”

“Jealous, much?” Azriel cut in before Cass could continue the vulgar jokes.

“You could do worse,” Rhys said suggestively, amusement playing underneath his carefully arranged expression.

Azriel hummed. “I think I’d better do some recon later tonight, what do you think?” The boys grinned at that, Cassian hiding his snicker from the room behind his hand.

It was easy for Azriel to take their jeering in good humor when his ego had been rubbed just right by your attention. His eyes found you again in the crowd, your figure filling out your dress in a way that was downright sinful. He couldn’t wait for this damned event to be over.

✸✸✸

Your husband, the idiot that he was, wasn’t a fool. So, he had Azriel’s room heavily guarded and warded that evening.

Which was exactly why Azriel found it so simple to steal his way into your quarters, with the guards conveniently occupied elsewhere.

The dark was especially thick as he crept down the halls of the Hewn City’s elite. He hated to spend a night here, wasted in the dank underbelly of a mountain. The event had passed without incident, if only barely. It was only a thinning scrap of discipline that kept him from lashing out at Keir. His greasy tone had Azriel’s fist curling around Truthsinger all night. If he was being honest, it was only his respect for Mor’s claim on her own father’s life that held his blade.

That blade stayed sheathed even now, as he slipped soundlessly into your dwelling. It was almost insulting how easily the wards and locks were bypassed.

Azriel found you exactly where his shadows had anticipated, curled up on a cushioned chair in front of a roaring fireplace. A needless extravagance, given the magic that heated the whole city.

You were still in your dress from the ball, edible as ever, and your hair has been let down. His eyes trailed the mussed locks around your throat as you swallowed a mouthful from a crystal cut glass. You set your drink down on the low table beside you.

His silent steps faltered as he spotted a second glass, lightly sweating in the warm air. Was your husband home after all?

As his shadows moved soundlessly to canvas the apartment, you paused with your hand still on your drink.

It took every inch of Azriel’s discipline to keep his composure as you turned to face him. He shuddered at the sparks roiling in your expression.

You'd been expecting him.

“It’s considered polite to knock, you know,” you stated. He was frozen, pinned under your unexpected gaze. Your eyes raked over his tall figure, drinking him in with barely concealed desire. His fingers twitched.

“And it’s impolite to stare,” he shot back.

You smiled at that, teeth glowing sharp in the firelight.

“Touché.”

He drifted further into the room, his shadows skirting around the perimeter, flanking you as he approached. The fire dampened at his power permeating the air. You didn’t even bother pretending to flinch.

“Have a drink with me,” you invited, unperturbed. “Or would that be improper, too?”

In reply, Azriel grabbed the spare glass, and knocked it back in one smooth motion. When he set it down, two of his digits stroked the delicate rim gratuitously, his eyes never leaving yours. He snagged your drink from under your fingers and perched above you on the arm of your chair, dauntless as ever.

He was playing a dangerous game, stealing what wasn’t his.

“We weren’t introduced,” he began casually as he stared down at you.

“Oh?”

“I saw you earlier tonight,” he said, his syllables crisp. “Typically, someone might introduce their spouse to the High Lord and his retinue.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “He’s had so much on his mind,” you excused your husband’s lapse in manners with a dismissive wave of your hand. He was many things, but you could never claim him to be poorly mannered. At least not outside the home.

“Is that what you are to him?” came the reply. “An afterthought?”

Your silence was answer enough.

He continued, menacingly, “I can’t understand that. I could hardly think of anything else all evening, with you there, and in this outfit.” His eyes bored into your soul, his blunt words making you blush. Not out of embarrassment, but in exhilaration.

“I can’t say I understand him, either.” You were annoyed at the topic, this was not what you’d expected to talk about with the gorgeous male towering above you. In fact, talking had little to do with your hopes for the evening…

“And where is he tonight?” Azriel pressed. The question was unexpected.

“Privacy is one of the few luxuries I have,” you whispered seductively.

The shadowsinger scoffed at that, eying the expensive interior where you sat.

“I doubt that.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” He levelled you with a look, and waited patiently for a real answer. You swallowed, deciding your pride should learn to live with the truth. “I don’t know where he is. Well, I know the answer is someone’s bed, certainly. But where? With who? I don’t ask anymore,” you admitted.

Azriel nodded. He wasn’t judging you, you realized. He was just gathering information, calculating. His eyes narrowed as his contemplation clicked.

“So what I’m hearing is that it wouldn’t be terribly untoward, all things considered, if I fucked you in his bed?”

You gasped at his ugly words, even as they sent a shudder straight to your core. His responding smile was a wicked thing, dripping with dark promise.

“I saw how you looked at me this evening.” He dipped his head to speak lowly in your ear. “You were practically begging for this.”

His lips brushed the sensitive shell of your ear as he sat back. Your breaths were dangerously uneven now, your heart was in a riot under your ribs. He looked intimidating above you, the firelight painting him in aggressive shades of crimson. Yet his eyes were like syrup, enticing amber pools oozing with arousal. Dimly, you registered him set his drink aside.

“What are you going to do about it?” you breathed, hardly trusting your voice.

His hand came to cup your jaw roughly, his thumb caressing your bottom lip.

“What would you have me do?” he countered.

“Kiss me.”

At that, he launched forward to capture your face fully, his mouth meeting yours in a furious kiss. You tasted your husband’s best whiskey on his mouth, and you moaned sinfully at the flavor. He took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his warm tongue. His heady taste ignited a hunger low in your gut. He was unraveling you with precision, your teeth scraping against him messily.

As he moaned your name, you grinned. You weren’t sure if he’d remember you, after all, but you’d certainly hoped.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he groaned against your mouth.

“How long has it been?”

“Centuries? At least,” he guessed.

Memories flooded you, unbidden, as his rough jaw worked yours, your moans mingling in the hot room.

He’d been fully grown the last time you’d seen him, of course, but somehow he seemed more mature now.

It had been a brief encounter, but pleasurable, when you’d befriended the Illyrian ages ago, in the calamity of your youth. You’d never gotten too close to him, you doubted his brothers even knew about you. You were neither of each other’s firsts, but he was certainly a highlight in your sexual history, you now realized with chagrin.

“You’ve made out well,” he said roguishly.

“What?” you muttered, confused, before you saw how he was glancing around the place, noting the plush rugs and fine ornaments. “Oh, yeah. They managed to marry me off advantageously after all. It’s cushy,” you shrugged.

“Impressive work,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, well we can’t all be blessed with ungodly strength and good looks.”

You were shocked when he laughed at your playfulness. You couldn’t recall his grim face laughing, but as you saw it, it felt right on him. Perhaps you’d erased the image. Or maybe he was simply different now.

“Are you calling me handsome?” he flirted lowly, his lips brushing your cheek, as he grinned mischievously.

“I’m not going to be calling you anything if you keep sitting on your ass! I heard you were watching me all night, and I asked you to do something about it,” you huffed. You were floored that he’d noticed you, that he’d remembered you.

He growled and kissed you again quickly before pulling you up. You went to lead him to your bedroom, but you didn't make it very far before he had your back pressed against the wall. His kiss was bruising, like he couldn’t believe it was really you, and he needed to make sure. It was a strange sensation, to have an unrecognized dream be realized so viscerally, to be entangled with him again.

Only when your lungs were screaming for air did he pull back; he was as insatiable as you remember. Your breaths came in heavy pants as he held you firmly against the wall of your husband’s living room.

His leg pressed into your clothed center, and you whined noisily at the contact. His pupils dilated, and he pressed his leg more firmly against your core. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you tugged tightly at his scalp as you felt the pressure right where you needed it.

“If you do that, I'm going to finish right here,” he growled. His words only thickened the pulse that was building low in your abdomen.

Effortlessly, he removed your hands from his sensitive scalp and pinned them above your head with his shadows. The position pressed you close to his chest, trapped by his firm body. Your breasts brushed his front, the contact riveting.

He softened his harsh actions by placing warm open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. It was torturous, his teeth scraping over your pulse point.

“Now,” he purred, “are you going to be a good girl and do as I say?”

At the moment, you couldn’t imagine doing anything other than his bidding, entranced as you were by his actions.

“Yes,” you promised.

“I knew you were smart. On your knees for me, angel.”

He released your hip with a gentle tap. You slid down the wall, your arms still bound above you. He caught your wrists as you kneeled, using them to press you against the wall with one hand. The position wasn’t comfortable, but you paid no mind as you made eye contact with his straining leathers.

You leaned forward to nuzzle the outline of his cock beneath his clothes, mouthing over his tip. He shuddered, his fist tightening on your wrist.

“Please,” you slurred into him. Your lips continued working along his clothed member.

“Fuck. Listen to you beg for it,” he groaned, his pelvis shifting towards your face involuntarily. He deftly undid his belt, popping it open with one hand. The action was erotic. His nimble fingers made quick work of his leathers.

When he finally uncovered himself, you moaned at the sight. Consistent with the rest of his anatomy, he was impressive.

A particularly thick vein had your mouth watering in anticipation. You parted your lips, your tongue falling open, ready for him. He was pretty, and you loved to take pretty things and make them your own.

He eased his thick head onto your waiting tongue, and groaned deeply at the contact. Your warm mouth was an instant ease to the tension in his head, replacing its pain with a delicious coil in his abdomen. His wings shivered, falling limp as you took him deeper.

His taste was intoxicating, salty and thick. You breathed through your nose, looking up at him through your lashes as you drooled around his girth. One of his hands was braced against the wall, his expression simmering with torment. As your watery eyes met, he moaned at the sight of you crouched under him in your gloriously disheveled state.

“Fuck, look at you taking me so well. Right where he could walk in and see,” Azriel sighed.

Your eyes widened at his words. Your cunt throbbed at his obscene comments and you whined.

“Do you like that? Being such a slut for me?” he laughed, the sound thick with need.

He moaned again as you began to tongue his length. You traced his thick veins generously before you began to bob your head. Your pulse felt heavy under the pressure of his grip on your hands, pinned to the wall. His hips stuttered as you found a rhythm with your mouth.

When you pulled off a bit to give special attention to his weeping tip, sucking gently, his free hand came to hold your hair. He shushed your startled noises as he pressed you further onto him. You frantically swallowed, choking as he forced himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment before he began to pump himself into your mouth.

Gagging at his size, you breathed through your nose in time with his slow thrusts. He groaned, the noise landing painfully in your soaked core. You whined, and the vibration around his girth made him hiss.

“You look fucking divine on your knees like this,” he praised haltingly. “Doing so well, angel.”

If your mouth wasn’t occupied, you would have told him how divine he looked too. Even fully dressed, with just his fly popped open, he looked like a walking vice, every inch an indulgence. His hair was tousled from where you’d raked your fingers through it, and his expression was just as unkempt. The labored look on his face was beautiful, even as the pleasure was so depraved.

He was a practical stranger, and you were sucking him off in your husband's hallway. The priceless carpets would be soaked by the time you were through.

You relaxed your jaw further, trying to take more of him down your throat. One erratic movement, and your teeth scraped his shaft lightly.

He hissed, pulling you off of him abruptly.

“Shit,” he panted. He didn’t sound mad, yet he looked fierce with a sick appetite.

You tongued his flushed head, apologetic. “Let me finish, I can do it,” you rasped.

“I know you can, baby,” he assured you, “Fuck, trust me, I know.”

You attempted to lean in for him again, and cried when he held you back. You looked up at him, tears streaking your cheeks. He ran a thumb under your eyes before pressing his thumb to your lips. You sucked him in eagerly, sighing at the slight gratification, teething brattily at his fingernail. His abdomen spasmed at the sight of you so worked up over tasting him.

“Did my cock make you stupid?” he cooed. “No need to beg, baby, I’ve got other plans for us.”

He pulled you up, kissing you languidly as you pressed against him. Your hip dug into his arousal, sending fresh pleasure through him. He licked the spit from your jaw, moaning at the pure eroticism.

“Want to show me your bed, baby? I promise I'll make it worth your while,” he touted, and his eyes shone deliciously with depravity.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him along into your lavish bedroom. When you arrived, you twirled around dramatically to gesture at the room, ever the tasteful hostess.

“As promised…” you present the intimate room. The sapphires on your favorite hand mirror winked at you from your nightstand as you led him towards the silk cushions.

He hummed in appreciation, pausing to pretend to take in the interior. You blushed, even though you had nothing to hide. Suddenly, you felt vulnerable having him here.

Finally, his eyes fell to you standing in invitation before him, next to your bed, which was perfectly built for two. His sensual stare sent a rush through you, reigniting your excitement at the delicious affair.

He brought his hand to brush your hair back, grasping at your scalp. The agonizing male pulled you towards him. His kiss was relaxed this time, his hot tongue meeting yours in a gentle caress. His other hand skimmed your side, exploring from your waist to your hip with infuriatingly gentle motions.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to enter a daydream: that this was your life. You imagined that his strong, steadying grip was a real embrace. Maybe you’d have stumbled home together after another horrible event, and the whole way you’d both have mocked the ridiculous room full of ridiculous people until they were nothing but a ridiculous memory. He would kiss away the dullness until your soul was brilliant and shining again.

Suddenly, you were horrified to feel your eyes thickening with tears.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you urged him.

“Need me that badly?” he tried to tease, but his voice was thick with lust. When he reconnected your mouths, his grip was crushing, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in his desperation.

Despite your wet eyes, you hadn’t really been sad. You’d been empty, absent from your own life. You didn’t need his pity. You needed his fire, a living coal to stoke your own with.

Here you were in all your wealth, trapped, and embarrassed by your barren, threadbare life. Not even sheets of the highest thread count could cover the rags and shambles of your existence. You were ravenous, you realized, for something to make you feel alive.

And here Azriel was, like a vision from a different lifetime, kissing you senseless like it was his secret mission all along.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he murmured against you. Before you could question his meaning, he was slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his mouth following to taste your freshly exposed skin.

As your dress pooled around your feet, his growl filled the room with pitch black energy. As his eyes darkened at your nude form, you thanked the Mother that you’d foregone undergarments.

“Did you know? Did you know that I was going to be there tonight when you put this on?” he breathed, teasing sensually.

You debated lying, but thought better of it. “No,” you confessed.

He whistled shortly, “I’m just that lucky.”

He grinned at you before attaching his mouth to your naked flash, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of your nipple.

“You’re perfect,” he remarked between sloppy kisses to your chest.

You flushed impossibly, floored by his attentions. His soft mouth was expertly working your tits, biting lightly and harshly licking, while his rough hands explored your backside. It felt dangerously like worship, even as he consumed you for his own satisfaction. The ecstasy was twisted; you’d had no idea he was even in your city when you’d dressed for the dreaded evening out with your husband.

“On the bed,” he commanded, spit shining on his chin when he rose finally from your chest.

You fell back against it, shamelessly watching as he unfastened the straps of his leathers in a torturous spectacle.

“You’re gorgeous,” you whispered, half to yourself. His wings twitched at that. Pride surged through him as he finally removed the last of his clothing, easy work courtesy of his hastily redone pants. His thick cock slapped to attention at his stomach. Your chest was rising rapidly from your position against the pillows. You looked so comfortable, so enticing.

“You’re one to talk,” he flirted. You reached for him, intending him to join you. Instead he sat on the edge of the cushion, tantalizingly out of reach.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

No, you thought.

“Yes,” you lied aloud.

His eyes narrowed. Shadows crept from his shoulders to slither up your form. You shivered at their featherlight touch caressing your form.

When you moved your hand to play with them, you gasped, finding your limbs restrained again under their power. Your arms were above your head, and your legs spread open under you.

“That’s what you get for lying," Azriel shared sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the one controlling them. You pouted and he clucked placatingly, his hand caressing your ankle. Was he ever going to let you touch him?

“Come here,” he cooed. He pulled you roughly onto his lap, so you were straddling one of his thick thighs. He kept your hands secured behind your back while his came to grip your hips, steadying you.

You whined as he flexed his rigid muscles under you. Sweat was already forming a thin sheen across your boiling flesh.

“You didn’t listen, and then you lied,” he listed. “You’re lucky I'm feeling generous tonight, I'm going to let you get yourself off here.”

Your jaw fell open at his words. What? Did he expect you to fuck yourself on his thigh?

“Well?” he prompted.

His hand gripping your hip moved to squeeze the flesh of your ass impatiently. Yet you didn’t move, testing him. You weren’t used to this, not getting what you wanted.

A crack rang through the room as he smacked your ass. You moaned at the sudden contact, pain flaring along with a sudden sense of urgency. Your hips started to move, slowly at first, then with more vigor as you gained the confidence to seek some friction.

“That’s it, good girl,” he cooed.

He watched you through heavy eyelids, your breasts bouncing right in his line of sight. When you glanced at his crotch, you saw the evidence of his desire prominently straining against his toned abs. It only fueled your fervor to see how you affected him.

You looked so fucked out above him, circling your hips desperately on his muscular thigh. His huge hands were secure on your waist to steady you, but he wasn’t actually helping. You grew frustrated, desperate for stimulation, the pressure not nearly enough to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs.

“Az, please.”

“Hmm?”

“Please touch me,” you begged.

He obliged, but again, not as you’d hoped. His tongue traced swirling patterns over your breasts, and one hand came up to palm them. The touch was maddening, only heightening your sensitivity. Your pussy was soaking his thigh, yet only his gaze deigned to touch your undulating hips.

“Not there,” you complained in a huff. It was infuriating to be clenching around empty space.

When he finally brought his rough fingers to your clit, you cried out in relief. Your hips stuttered as he rubbed tight circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Sweat dripped down your spine, muscles in your shoulders and thighs straining as you chased your bliss. Your moans crested as he pressed his textured fingers harshly against you. Right when your release was about to shatter you – his hands abruptly pulled away, forcing you to still your hips.

“Did I say you could come?”

His fingers left your form as he growled. You gasped, red faced and panting. The look on his face was predatory, lit with brazen lust.

“On the floor, on your knees.”

Dizzy with the broken orgasm, you obeyed awkwardly, his shadows still constricting your hands. The floor bit into your knees, the sting was a jarring sensation in contrast with the arousal that was dripping between your thighs. Despite your discomfort, you were determined to finish what you’d started earlier in the hallway.

When you leaned in to take his cock into your mouth, he gripped your throat roughly. Your mouth opened on reflex, but he held you there, just out of reach.

His other hand came to tug heavy strokes at his cock, right in front of your face. He moaned savagely, fixated on the sight of you slick and naked below him. Your back arched at nothing, frantically searching for some friction.

He looked like a god above you, his shadows swirling deliciously along his powerful form, his wings shaking with pleasure. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and stuck to his sweat-dampened forehead as he panted and pumped himself.

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” you said hoarsely, desperate.

You saw the challenge land when his molten eyes sharpened. His hand stilled.

“I don’t remember you being such a brat,” he growled, but his eyes gleamed wickedly.

He pulled you up for a kiss, his hands coming to play with your ass, massaging viciously. The dull ache between your legs throbbed at his hot touch.

“And I don’t remember you being such an ass,” you retorted, but your words lacked any real vitriol, eager as you were for his touch. He sensed it, and let your bratty words slide.

“I've missed that mouth almost as much as your tight pussy,” he purred devilishly, unfazed.

He must have meant it too, since two of his thick digits trailed between your legs while he spoke. There was a gleam in his eyes as he felt your slickness, and it wasn’t humility.

“So wet, baby,” he muttered. “All this for me?”

You whined and leaned into his shoulder, shuddering at the teasing stroke. His shadows slipped away from your wrists, leaving no discomfort save for your sore tendons.

Azriel tapped your ass once, his assured satisfaction putting him in a good humor.

“Up on the bed for me, angel,” he directed.

His command sent a shiver down your sweat chilled spine, the anticipation heating your skin. You mounted the bed, and he positioned you on your stomach. He pulled a pillow under your hips, kissing your shoulder tenderly. You shook with nerves. Your arousal was seeping down your legs. You’d been waiting for this since you’d seen his unmistakable physique striding through the crowd.

“That comfortable?” he asked, some care peaking through the haze of his lust.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know if I’m being too rough, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, pressing your chest to the cushions to ease your ass back against him. The towering male ignored your spurring move, instead he pulled you up to your knees for a kiss.

You couldn’t be mad at him as he captured your lips so tenderly, even as he was unwilling to give you a moment of control. Your body was pulsing with a delicious heat, pressed against his chest, tasting spice and earth on his tongue.

The Illyrian’s soft lips were depraved, practically sucking at your teeth. His ferocity left you lightheaded, you were helpless under his power. His hard need against your lower back brought your mind to the matter at hand.

“Too scared to fuck me, huh, Az?” you taunted.

He bit your lip, snarling as you pressed your ass against his throbbing length.

“This your first time?” you mocked.

Azriel let out a humorless laugh at that.

“You’re trouble,” he hissed, grinding his cock against your lower back. You whined at the fiery contact, so close but so far from what you needed.

“You like trouble,” you grinned.

“I do,” he agreed.

With one last searing kiss, he pushed your shoulders down so that you came to rest on your forearms. He draped your legs over his thighs. The dips between your legs and pelvis burned as he brought your hips up to meet him where he kneeled.

He dragged his cock along your soaked folds, teasing you. He groaned deeply, the sound landing in your abdomen. Without warning he slammed into you. You bit the pillow deliriously to stifle your moan as he cursed.

“Shit. I forgot how perfect you were for me, baby,” he purred as you adjusted.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you cried.

He responded with another groan, and pulled out near fully to ram into you again. You clenched around him involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “you’re gripping me like…” he trailed off into another deep groan, the sound vibrating like a shock through your flesh.

“Faster, Az,” you gasped.

Something in him snapped when you cried his name. The male began to pound you without restraint. His hands on your hips were sure to leave bruises, but you were far beyond care. His pace was relentless, gone berserk in his lust. His shadows leapt out, suddenly larger than life. The tendrils of shadow felt acutely like an audience, even pressed into the cushions you felt the heat of their attention.

“That's it, baby,” he growled. His praise made your flesh rise, a whine pitching from your heaving throat.

“Does he make you feel this good?” The question surprised you, as did the crooked thrill it sent through your teeth.

“No,” you confessed with a sigh. His resounding gasp died in a strangled moan as you clenched around him at his perverted words. Served him right, you thought, as he destroyed your insides.

“Say my name,” he commanded suddenly.

“Azriel!” You barely managed to voice it as you moaned wildly.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he taunted. “I want the whole city to know.”

You screamed his name as he pushed into you with a particularly punishing thrust. His cock scraped your walls agonizingly. It was addicting how he filled you so perfectly.

His hand came to press up on your lower stomach, and he groaned at the feeling of his cock filling your guts. The pressure had you bucking your hips onto him, chasing the feeling.

“Look at that,” he murmured, and you weren’t even sure if he intended you to hear. “You’re taking me so well.”

Long gone was the reserved male from the event this evening. He had been replaced by an insatiable double, just as dark but deliciously unrestrained.

The pillow beneath you was a useless anchor amidst the crashing waves of pleasure. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, your senses were a riot. The room filled with your tandem grunts and moans, and the scent of your sex laced the thick air. You felt his mouth on your spine, heat unfurling down your back, and your bones went unstrung under his hot touch.

The ache in your abdomen had erupted into an ecstatic pulse. Your pleasure mounted as the shadowsinger’s moans became breathier. His hips began to stutter, yet his pace was punishing as ever. He brought two thick fingers to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit as he hurtled towards his release.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned with a salacious whine.

He pulsed inside of you as his thrusts stilled abruptly. You couldn’t help but turn your head and watch as he came undone. It was as satisfying as your own bliss to witness his.

His eyes were shut tight in ecstasy while the rest of him slackened, his back arching involuntarily as he convulsed. You’d never seen something so jaw achingly erotic in all your days.

Amidst his orgasm, his coarse fingertips never paused their assault against your heat. You arched back onto him, the feeling of his aching member sending you into oblivion. The pressure of his expert hands paired with the erotic sight of him drunk off your core had your release shattering over you.

The waves of bliss that had been cresting slowly all evening crashed over you all at once in an undeniable blow. It had your body tensing and loosening all at once, your nerves on fire. He worked you through it as you cried, trembling beneath him.

When your fists eventually unclenched from the sheets, he came to an inevitable halt. He pulled out gingerly, mindful of your present state of hyper sensitivity.

He kissed your shoulder as he turned you over. He checked you for any damage, just like you were a comrade fallen in battle. You were utterly spent, but unharmed. The exhaustion was gratifying, a welcome ache from an evening much enjoyed.

“That was bliss,” you told him.

“Top shelf, for sure,” Azriel agreed, eyes still dancing over your naked form like he was committing it to memory.

His face was pleasantly unguarded as he spoke. Something suspiciously like a smile played on his swollen lips. The spymaster’s features were surprisingly easy, decompressed as he was in the aftermath of such cataclysmic delight.

You had been the perfect diversion for him, and he for you. True to form, he didn’t idle with you as you lounged, fully drained, in your rumpled sheets.

Azriel dressed efficiently, which is to say that you weren't yet prepared for his stunning body to disappear under his clothes, not so quickly. That was the thing about indulging a vice, these things were never meant to linger.

He stood next to your bed, suddenly assuming an air of professionalism, like you hadn’t just been screaming his name.

“If I'm ever in town again…” he began, tentatively.

“I’ll be here,” you laughed. You meant it humorously, but the words rang hollow in the empty air.

“Good,” he noted with satisfaction.

His words weren’t quite a promise. Still, the meager sentiment had something almost like hope flaring in your sunken chest. Darkness was wrapping itself thickly around his form, like he was gathering his things to leave.

He kissed you once more, slowly, as if he was memorizing the feeling of your mouth on his. And then he was gone, taking his shadows with him.

The sudden light of the room hurt your eyes. You blinked away the tears, swallowing the horror that rose at their arrival, bitter as bile. You sniffed once before snapping to work.

Within a few minutes, you’d erased every trace of your charmed evening.

The shadowinger hadn't left so much as a hair as a sign of his presence, and even the bed was cold again by the time you crawled under fresh sheets. Sleep came mercifully quick, surrendering you to a world of dreams.

✸✸✸

The next night, your husband was gone again, his dinner untouched on the long table where you'd carefully laid his place at the head.

Usually, on nights like these, you would relish the freedom of the empty home and set a fire in the hearth. It was a frivolous excess, but so was most of your life.

The fire was part of a game you played, where you would picture everything you hated, everything and everyone you wanted to see burn. Some nights, it soothed you to picture it, your personal apocalypse. Other nights, the warm flame felt like an insult, its wagging tongues mocking your petty, helpless game. Nights like those were the worst, the void more humiliating than any offense. They left you feeling vapid, foolish.

Tonight however, instead of your customary game at the hearth, you found yourself sitting alone in the wide expanse of your bed. You’d lit a solitary candle; not to banish the darkness, but to invite the soft shadows it spread. Their quiet company was a cold comfort to your heart, where a fragile, unfamiliar flame was just flickering to life.

A/N: Thanks for reading :) I can't for the life of me write a one shot so this might have to become a blurb-y little series of an unpredictable and torturous affair. Who better to have as an affair partner than this sexy spy? He’s big dicked and discreet– everything you need ... Re: ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’ – "I did her on his birthday" is the *coldest* line and I feel like Azriel is a little shit on the down low and would get off on that... If you have scenarios in mind for future episodes, please send them my way ;)

Let me know what we think! And did the last sex position make sense?? I was struggling to explain it.

Next part

#ENJOYYY #this was SO JUICY AND FUN and kinda sad to write #im high key proud of this one #lmk if you want more >:))#my writing #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar smut #smut

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 4 months ago

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Drunk N Nasty PT. II 🥂🩷✨ (Bakusquad x Black!F!Reader NYE 18+ One Shot)

✨Pairing: Poly!Bakusquad x Black!Fem!Reader

✨Synopsis: In which you and Mina didn’t learn your lesson the first time about pushing your boyfriends’ buttons, so you decide to once again do something you’re not supposed to at a boring NYE party when their attention is adverted somewhere else instead of on their pretty girlfriends. But they’re on the exact same type of time you and Mina are, so why not celebrate the new year in a way only they know how AND teach you a lesson about being good girls too?

✨Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged-Up!Bakusquad (Late 20s-Early 30s); Black-Coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Drunk Sex; Dubcon; Groping; Thigh Grinding; Dry Humping; Spit Play; Edge Play; Girl on Girl; Mutual Oral; Bondage/Tape Play; Shock/Electro Play; Daddy Kink; some DDLG; Spanking; Choking; Hair-Pulling; Facefucking; Spitroast; Degradation/Praise; Multiple Creampies/Throatpies; Facials; Some Aftercare

✨Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

✨Writer’s Note: Happy New Year & (almost) 2025, sweeties!!!! Sooooo I remember how much fun I had writing "Drunk N Nasty" so I decided to do one for NYE. I hope y'all enjoy it! Idk if I did as good of a job, but I still hope it's enough to scratch the deviant itch that y'all have like me lol. This one is still very NASTY tho -Jazz 💋💋💋

Read PT. I HERE!

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“Baby?” Bakugou asks in that raspy, gruff voice that never fails to send tingles up your spine. “Yeah, babe?” “If you don’t want me to lift up that dress and embarrass you in front of all these people, I suggest you take your hand off my knee.”

The blonde, looking so scrumptious in his burgundy suit and undercut, is serious about his threat and you know it. He truly doesn’t give a fuck.

His lewd threat sends shockwaves throughout your body and makes the most forbidden part of you, the part of your body you should NOT be focused on at the moment, throb. Slowly, you slide your hand off of your boyfriend’s knee despite wanting so desperately to run it up his muscular thigh and grip his—

“That too, Pinkie,” Bakugou growls, not even looking up from his menu for the party. “Hands off. Now.” Your perfect, pretty, pink pro hero girlfriend, who currently looks delicious in her backless mint green gown, begrudgingly takes her hand off Sero’s thigh. He, too, looks delicious in his suit just like the rest of your boyfriends sitting at your assigned table.

“So bossy,” she pouts, her glossy lips puckered. Sero shrugs, grinning wolfishly at Bakugou. “I dunno…I kinda liked it. A lot, actually.” The platinum blonde glares at him over his reading glasses which only makes you hornier. Bakugou looks so goddamn good in glasses. “You’re a perv just like her,” he grunts. “Usually, I don’t give a fuck who sees us, but I’ll be damned if All Might looks over here and sees a hand on my cock.”

He gives you a side-eye that makes you flush hot despite the gorgeous strapless red gown you’re wearing as part of tonight’s festivities. “So lewd,” you tut. “And you complain about us.”

Suddenly, you smell familiar Gucci cologne and your stomach flips. “He’s not the one gropin’ you though, is he, naughty girl?” Denki asks, his lips suddenly at your ear. “Mmm-hmm. I saw that aaaall the way at the punch bowl.” The honey-haired blonde, along with Kirishima’s sexy, redheaded ass, sit on your left while Bakugou occupies your right.

Sero sits across from you with Mina who is about to drop her head into her shrimp salad. “Spiked, I hope,” she mutters. “This party is soooo boring!”

You silently concur. As a fellow pro hero, you were invited to attend the Heroes’ Annual Christmas Party along with your partners to celebrate all heroes and the holiday season. Though you feel extremely glamorous in your dress with the thigh slit and your gold Jimmy Choo heels with your face beat for days and your skin smelling intoxicatingly sweet, this party is anything short of “glamorous”.

Despite all the famous pros and important folks being here, and the ballroom being swaddled in gorgeous Christmas trees, centerpieces, and expensive o'devours, you have never been so fucking bored in your life. Hence why you’ve been teasing your boyfriends for the past hour since you’ve been here.

“What the hell did you expect, mamì?” Sero asks, nudging Mina with his elbow. “It’s a NYE party where very important people, like us, are in attendance, including city officials.” He pops a shrimp into his mouth and you zero in on his lip piercing. And the rings adorning his fingers that you’d love to feel wrapped around your neck right now.

Curse your boyfriends for being pierced up, tatted up, and hella sexy! Why the fuck would they choose tonight of all nights to look so damn good? Why couldn’t you go to the club, get drunk, sloppily make out on the dance floor, and then go back to the crib to “celebrate in private”?

Or stay home and spend NYE fucking until the sun came up?

Or fuck in general?

You wrinkle your brows at your advanced horniness. You can’t remember the last time you were this aroused and in need of your boyfriends’ attention. Perhaps it’s because the busy holiday season has brought too much work and not enough play that now you and Mina both are feening for some dick that your men aren’t free to give at the moment.

The rush of the holidays and working overtime for more money to buy gifts and still pay rent has affected all of you to the point where you and Mina are teeming with arousal and desperation, and your boyfriends are overcome with exhaustion. Too exhausted to dom their pretty babies and give them the attention they so desperately need.

“But no alcohol though?” Denki scoffs, his tiny hoop earrings glistening in the soft glow of the lights above. His honey-blonde hair, streaked with one single black strand in the shape of a lightning bolt, is styled back in a man bun for the special occasion tonight. “C’mon, they’ve gotta be kiddin’ with that one! Do the party planners know a single pro hero?”

“You don’t have to drink to have fun, Denks,” Kiri criticizes, mouth full of steak. He looks absolutely mouthwatering in his tailored suit, his long red locks cascading down his broad shoulders. “You’ve just got a problem.” You tut, rolling your eyes at the redhead. "Says the one who can chug five beers in one sitting,” you giggle. “And then pass out.”

Mina, Denki, and Sero laugh at your little quip while Kiri gets a playful fire in his crimson eyes. “Don’t try me, baby. I’ll show you your man can do six.” Unlike Bakugou, he doesn’t ignore the flirty energy that is emanating from your smile or eyes rimmed in mascara. You reach across the table to take his big hand in his, an electric shock coursing through you at his touch.

He must feel it too because his body visibly tenses and his pierced tongue juts out to lick his lips. “Fuck, you look good,” he sighs. “Both of you do.” He turns to Mina and her hooded, inkwell eyes, the sexual tension becoming more obvious with the unwavering look she gives you and Kiri.

“Mmm, agreed,” Denki sighs, swallowing so hard that his Adam’s Apple bobs. “It’s taking everything in me to not pull you both out of here and tear these dresses off of you.”

Boldly, Mina takes her glass of punch and slowly drinks from it, making it a point to play with the straw with her tongue. “What’s stoppin’ you?” she purrs. Your cunt throbs impatiently under your dress, needing so desperately to feel her tongue in other places. You want to be between all of them, feeling each ridge of their muscles and caressing their warm skin.

“Stop flirting,” Bakugou grunts, his eyes flaring at the pink-haired pro. “You can do that at home.” He puts his menu down and turns to you, making your blood run hot with the seething intensity and lust in them. “And when we’re there, you know you two are gonna get it, right?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hoping that he promises. And you hope that you all can go home ASAP to make up for the weeks of constant missions, patrols, and paperwork that kept your Daddies away from you and Mina. You girls can only get so much satisfaction out of each other and while sex with Mina is always great, you miss Bakugou’s hand gripping your throat while he’s fucking you into the bed or Kiri’s touch as he litters your body in kisses where he left bruises.

Sero obviously sees the molten lust in your eyes and smirks. “Seems like that’s the plan,” he chuckles. “You know how these two operate, Kats. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The look he gives you and Mina is enough to make you explode.

“Can’t we just go home now?” you tiredly suggest, pouting. “No offense to All Might and the others here, but this party is damn near putting me to sleep!” Kiri chuckles, aiming those damn crimson eyes your way. “Or maybe you’re just desperate to get home so we can put your fine ass to bed. Is that it, little lady?”

You suddenly feel his hand ghosting over your knee and do your best to hide your gasp. Every slight touch is like kryptonite to you. Bakugou is gripping his glass so tight that you’re afraid he’ll break the thing. “I said cut it out!” he growls at the redhead. “I can see your boner from here!”

Kiri blushes as red as his hair and places a tablecloth on his lap to cover himself. You wither at the loss of contact and sexual chemistry, needing so much to feel both.

“This is probably the only time I’ve ever sided with Bakugou,” Denki huffs. “As much as I love the sexy game-playing, ladies, I really don’t wanna be walkin’ around with a stiff one if you catch my drift.”

Kiri sighs, staring down at his lap. “Same here. With my quirk, it’s much worse.” Now your mind has drifted to think about their boners. Could you dare to take a peek under the table and see for yourself? Are you bold enough to reach over, grab their hard cocks, and stroke them through their pants until—

“Well, can’t we hit a club around here and then come back before the midnight toast?” Mina suggests, snapping you out of your nasty, depraved thoughts. “I mean, it’s New Year’s Eve! We’re supposed to turn up!”

“After the party,” Bakugou firmly says, rubbing his undercut in obvious frustration. “It’s a charity event and we’re doin’ charity. Now both of you brats pipe the fuck down before I really give you somethin’ to complain about.” Anyone else would be damn near pissing themselves at the hot-blooded look Bakugou is giving, but you and Mina know better. He is just as worked up as you are.

You both turn to each other, sharing a playful smile with one another. Kiri, Denki, and Sero watch on, all equally turned on by the bratty energy emanating from you and Mina…especially Mina. That girl isn’t afraid of anything and won’t stop until she’s a writhing mess after too many orgasms and spankings. “Like what, Kats?” she quips. “Are we gettin’ you hot and bothered too?”

Feeling your girlfriend rub off on you, you take a hand and slyly squeeze Bakugou’s thigh, making his knee hit the bottom of the table. He turns to you, cheeks flushed and bottom lip pierced with snake bites caught between his teeth. “You little fuckin’—“

“Ohhh, look at this!” a sudden voice interrupts. You jump in surprise and turn to the balding city official standing by the snake table nearest to you. “It’s my favorite hero couple all here together! You must come and meet the other officials! They’re big fans of Dynamight and Red Riot, apparently, so I said I’d bring you guys over.”

Kiri, for one, is happy for the distraction before Bakugou possibly tackled you to the ground, ripped off your dress, and fucked you dumb in front of all of these poor people. “Sure! That’s what we’re here for!”

Bakugou stiffly gets up and walks over to the city official, obviously hard, while Denki and Sero trail behind him. You and Mina share a look, neither one of you wanting to socialize and pretend to be interested in anything other than sex with your boyfriends. “We’ll stay back and finish eating,” she tells Mina with a smile. “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll keep your seats warm.”

Kiri fixes you both with a “you’d better behave” look before he walks off to be the buffer for his boyfriends. You sigh, placing your nails, glossy, red, and almond-shaped, under your chin. Mina does the same, running a hand through her pink curls. “Are you as bored and as horny as I am?” she deadpans.

“Hell yes,” you reply with a scoff, “but as much as I wanna leave, I don’t wanna ditch the guys or make them angry.” You already know that this is what Mina is going to allude to, just like the last time you two didn’t get enough attention. “Oh, who cares about that?” she scoffs, waving a hand at the idea of your boyfriends being pissed at your decisions. “They’re bored and horny too, but just don’t wanna give us what we want. I don’t appreciate being denied.” She gives you a devious smirk that will only lead to trouble.

As much as you enjoy the idea of teasing your dudes for the night, you also know that ditching them just to entrap them wouldn’t be the best idea on NYE. “Well, we only have an hour until midnight,” you say, checking your phone. “We can just get some dessert, gossip with Uraruka and the girls, and—“

“Oh, you two are still her!” Kiri says, pleasantly surprised. You turn to see him back now, holding a new glass of punch in his hand. “I was sure you ditched us.” You grin up at him, hope blooming in your chest. “Never, baby. How was the meet n’ greet?”

The usual chipper and bright redhead rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Fuckin’ annoying and my social battery has just about reached its limit. How about we leave in say…” He pauses, checking his Rolex. “Twenty minutes?”

Mina groans in happiness, dramatic as usual. “Oh, yes!” you reply, grinning happily. You could kiss your Red Riot because you’re so damn happy to finally be rid of this party and get dicked down before midnight…and after. Kiri laughs at you and Mina’s cute antics as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll tell the guys in the group chat and—“

“Oh, Kirishima!” Fat Gum hollers from across the room, waving a pudgy hand. “Come over here! These girls wanna meet you!” He points at the girls in question—three very pretty, modelesque, and expensive-looking ladies who look very interested in meeting your man.

Kiri looks wearily at you and Mina before sighing, apologizing with his eyes. “Twenty,” he mouths to you and Mina, but you both know that this won’t be twenty minutes at all. When he leaves, you huff in frustration and turn to Mina who suddenly produces a tiny vodka bottle out of her purse. “Good thing I bought this,” she giggles with a mischievous wink. “Don’t tell the guys, okay?”

You smirk at her, passing your cranberry juice over to her for some of that liquid confidence. “Only if you pour me a shot.” Your girlfriend is happy to oblige and discreetly pours you a glass under the table, spiking your drink. When you take a sip, you feel your bones melt and your face flush from the strong vodka mixed with the sweet, tangy cranberry juice.

After thirty or so minutes of drinking, you and Mina are good and tipsy. You can tell from the way she keeps giggling at nothing and your erogenous zones are more sensitive than usual. Your nipples feel puckered, tight, and flushed while your pussy throbs insistently for attention. You desperately turn to search for your boyfriends and find them still chatting with the three girls.

Only this time, there are more than three. More women have seemed to gravitate over to your Dynamight, Red Riot, Chargebolt, and Cellophane, gushing over their hair and their quirks. One of them blushes as she asks Sero for an autograph on her napkin, placing a hand on his arm in gratitude when he takes out a pen.

You also know that you’re tipsy when you begin to feel quickly irritated at seeing another hand that isn’t yours or Mina’s on your man’s arm. Your jealousy and illogical anger only intensify when you see a blonde with long legs standing between Denki and Kiri for a photo.

The blonde’s hands are placed dangerously low on your boyfriends’ backs…any lower and she’d be cupping their asses. “Are you seein’ what I’m seein’?” Mina whispers, irritation in her voice. You slowly nod, barely even looking at her. You’re too focused on the bitches all over your men. “Yeah, and I don’t like it.”

Another fan, a ginger with a curvaceous body and a beautiful gold gown, is chatting Bakugou up, her hand placed on his shoulder as she laughs. Why is she touching him like that? Why is he allowing that? You know that your boyfriends are quite popular among the female population, but shit, don’t they know that these four sexy men are off-limits?

Flushing with envy that would make anyone green in the face, you begin to search for something. A distraction. A diversion. Something to catch your boyfriends’ attention. You find it in the emerald eyes that are currently staring you down from across the room at another table. The eyes belong to a handsome lizard hybrid with scaly skin, claws, a tail, and a tongue that you’ve heard can do wonders.

Next to him sits another pro adorned in piercings with spiked, black locks and eyes the color of molten silver. He waggles his ringed fingers at you though his eyes are pinned on Mina. There is no doubt in your mind that the two haven’t been watching you and your girlfriend all night despite you clearly having dates. Then you get a very bad, very stupid idea. “I’ve got an idea,” you mischievously giggle. “Follow my lead.”

You rise from your seat and Mina follows, the both of you slowly strutting across the room over to the two pros. They drink you in with every step, their lips curling up into pleased smiles at the sight of you and the pink-haired pro. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. The alcohol has made you too reckless…but it also feels kinda good, like being on a rollercoaster and waiting at the top just before the drop.

“Well, it’s nice to see some familiar faces here,” you say, making your voice as flirtatious as possible. The lizard hybrid smiles up at you, drinking a glass of punch. “H/N and Pinkie,” he greets in his raspy voice, on the same exact time as you. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your boyfriends.”

“Lizard and Slipknot,” Mina giggles, nodding at the grey-eyed pro. “What are pros #12 and #15 doing here at a party like this? I figured you two would be out hunting for some pretty girls to celebrate NYE with.”

Lizard and Slipknot are known for their monthly (if not weekly) girlfriends and hookups, having been trending on social media many times for being snapped coming out of hotels. “You make us sound so predatory, Pinkie,” Slipknot scoffs, pressing a hand to his heart. “I’m a little hurt…unless those pretty girls happen to be you and your girl.”

He gives you each a flirty, almost lecherous smile that Lizard wipes off with a punch in the arm. “Dude, don’t push it. Don’t you know who they’re with?”

You look across the room at your boyfriends who are still annoyingly occupied. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about them,” Mina replies. “They’re busy.” Slipknot quirks a brow in interest. “And left you two alone?” he huffs. “Lucky for us, I guess.”

He and Lizard share a secretive smile with each other that you’re too drunk to question. “That being said, you guys wanna have a drink with us?” you suggest. “And maybe…talk?” It’s the most you can come up with. The vodka has started to make your head throb and your mind sluggish. But the duo are more than happy to agree to your suggestion of shots and chatting.

Somehow that “talk” leads to you, Mina, and the two hot guys who aren’t either one of your boyfriends leaving the party early to go to a club two blocks down. If your boyfriends notice then you don’t realize it.

The cold air is thick with anticipation and excitement for the new year as the men lead you and Mina down the street, stumbling around and loudly laughing from the alcohol. As soon as you’re in the popular, crowded, and sweltering nightclub, more alcohol starts to flow, shot after shot coming thanks to Lizard and Slipknot’s wallets.

It’s only a matter of time until all of the flavored vodka shots—birthday cake, caramel, and sour green apple—start to collide and work their effect on you. The world comes softer and fuzzier as your vision starts to blur, but the music blasting from the speakers overhead sounds sharper. You can feel the bass pumping and throbbing in your head as you stand on the dance floor with Mina.

Speaking of which, your girlfriend has never looked prettier. She danced to the music in her gown, hiking up the skirt over her toned thighs as she winds her perfect ass. She turns to you, eyes aglow and slightly hooded from the vodka. “Now this is a party!” she laughs. You giggle with her, agreeing. The loud music, crowded dance floor, flashing strobe lights, and endless alcohol are exactly what you need.

You slip your phone out of your clutch and hold it up to get you and Mina in view. “Let’s take a photo!” you shout at Lizard and Slipknot who have been surrounding you two like vultures since you came to the club.

Slipknot tosses up a middle finger and makes a show of leaning in towards Mina’s shoulder while Lizard hugs in close on your left, one hand on the small of your back. He lets it linger there even as you snap the photo, the white flash capturing your big smile and the drunk look in your eyes.

Quickly, you post the photo on your private IG, smirking to yourself. Maybe that will make your boys pay some attention to their pretty girls and make them remember what the fuck they have.

Mina’s eyes grow soft in the glow of the colorful lights as she gazes at you. Nobody but you despite the two hot pros you came here with. “Come here. Dance with me, Y/N.”

In one hand, she holds a cup of drank while she takes your hand with a free one. Interlacing your fingers, she invites herself into your space and presses her back flush against your front. Her ass presses against your crotch, grinding back into you as the music glows to a chopped and screwed R&B classic that would definitely get the whole floor pregnant.

Lizard has long since taken his hand off of your back, but he still lingers behind you, watching you and Mina dance with a predatory look in his reptilian eyes. You can’t pay close attention to him because Mina is tossing a sultry look at you from over her shoulder, swishing the alcohol in her cup around. “Want a taste?” she whispers, her tone soft and low.

It makes your pussy throb something awful. All self-control and the ability to make good decisions gone, you nod and allow her to carefully tilt the cup into your mouth, giggling apologies when some of it spills onto your bosom. You’re surprised to find that it’s fizzy champagne that makes you feel bubbly the moment it goes down your throat.

“Lemme get that up for you, darling,” Mina purrs before turning around to slowly lick each droplet of champagne off of your chest. Her glossy lips stick to your skin, leaving stains of Fenty Gloss on your throat and chest. You softly moan at the contact, so drunk off of her and the alcohol that you can barely comprehend that you’re doing this in public.

And with an audience. Lizard groans at the sight. “Fuck, you two are too hot,” he groans. Mina giggles, giving you a mischievous wink. “We know.”

Slipknot corners her front, the lights flashing against his glassy, drunk eyes and sloppy smile. “What I wouldn’t give to take you both home with me.” His hands graze Mina’s waist, trying his luck, but the pink-haired pro steps out of the way to press closer to you. “Uh-uh, Slip, watch it. Our boys could be lurking in any dark corner right now!”

Your stomach drops and reality barely breaks through the comfortable, glittery wall that the alcohol built for you tonight. Any one of your boyfriends could be in this club, couldn’t they? They could’ve arrived at any point and are watching this.

Suddenly, you have the urge to call either one of your men. They must have that urge too because when your phone buzzes, it’s Bakugou calling, his fine ass popping up on your caller ID. You begin to nervously sweat, unsure of whether you should answer or not.

Lizard bumps into you by accident, inching a little closer to you to stand behind you. You notice that he has gotten closer. Extremely close. He’s so close that if you were to lean back, you’d be right against him. You turn to face him, your throat clogged. “That your man?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You should say yes. You should stop this recklessness and answer your boyfriend like a good girlfriend should. But the alcohol and the urge to be a brat win. “No,” you reply, ignoring Bakugou’s call, but you keep the phone in your hand.

Lizard smiles, pleased. “Good. You’re here with me right now.” He inches closer to you and begins to sway to the music that has picked up to a song you’ve heard a thousand times on TikTok. “So what’s up for the night after this?” he whispers.

Under the lights, you see the seductive look in his slits of eyes. You can’t find the words to speak. You don’t want to say yes because hello?! You’re dating people! Four very hot, very famous people who will most definitely kill you tonight.

The urge to call one of your boyfriends and apologize for your behavior returns, sobering you up. Luckily, your phone buzzes again and it’s Kiri. You give Lizard an apologetic smile and put up a finger for a minute. As you strut off of the floor, Mina calls you, mindlessly dancing by herself while Slipknot watches her. “Y/N, get off the phone!” she hollers above the music. “This is our song!”

“Hang on!” you reply, raising your voice enough to be heard. You stand against a nearby wall away from the writhing bodies on the floor and press a hand to your other ear to hear your boyfriend better. “Yeah?” you shout into the phone.

”You two are in big fuckin’ trouble,” Kiri growls. Your stomach flips at the irked, seething tone of his voice that dips into a low rasp that usually occurs when Kiri is very pissed off. “Where the fuck are you?”

You smirk to yourself, glad to have riled him up. “Oh, you’re startin’ this by arguing with me?” you scoff. “Now I’m glad we left.” Kiri scoffs to himself, obviously done with your ass and your brattiness. “You’re lucky it’s me callin’ you and not Bakugou. He just about blew a hole in the wall at the party.”

You stifle a laugh, picturing your hot-headed blonde shooting a hole into one of the ballroom walls after finding you and Mina gone. You picture all of them losing their shit, sweating over the whereabouts of their girlfriends, and then growing angered at the photo on your IG.

“Good! Maybe then you’ll start listening and attending to your girls instead of entertaining your big fans.” You can’t keep the venom from leaking out of your voice. Kiri pauses, assessing the damage and the sound of your voice. “Y/N, you been drinkin’?” he asks, slight worry in his tone. “I can hear it all in your voice.”

He should be worried. Leaving his poor, horny girlfriend to search for excitement on her own is not the kind of treatment you deserve. “Yes,” you pointedly answer. “And I plan on going back to doin’ just that with my pretty girlfriend. We’ll explain everything when we get back.”

Kiri makes a sound between a laugh and a sigh, making your smile slip from your face. “Oh, you can explain everything to me now, baby girl,” he says. “‘Cause I’m right here.”

Confused, you begin to look around the room, squinting into the flashing blue and purple lights that illuminate strangers’ faces, clothes, and bodies. Finally, your eyes land on a pair of big dress shoes standing inches away from the club entrance. Your eyes trail up their thick, muscular legs and broad, tall build to their red locks and handsome face frozen in a steely expression.

Shit.

Kiri stands there with his arms crossed over his beefy chest, his lips pursed in a thin line…which means he isn’t happy. Fear and anxiety sober you, plunging you back into reality like Superman crashing headfirst into Earth as your six-foot-something boyfriend begins to walk toward you. People ogle in shock at him, snapping photos of Red Riot in the club for NYE. But Kiri keeps his eyes locked on you, the hot red of his irises stirring something inside of you. You already know what is in store for you tonight…or do you?

Finally, he stops in front of you, inches away from you. You drop your phone from your ear, stunned. You can’t speak. Words evade you. The corner of Kiri’s mouth turns up into a knowing smirk. “What’s the matter, mama?” he asks, condescending and smug. “Ya look like you just see a ghost.”

“Y-You’re here,” you squeak.

“And you’re in very deep shit,” he replies without missing a beat. “You and that other brat. Where is she, anyway?” Before you can even utter a breath, Mina is dancing up to you with her curls sweated out and her cheeks flushed from dancing. “Y/N!” she laughs, waving her phone at you. ”Slipknot just gave me his number! I can’t wait to see the looks on the boys’ faces when I—“

Her smile instantly fades when she sees Kiri standing there glaring at her. The situation only goes from worse to worser when suddenly, your phones are snatched from your hands as if out of thin air….but not thin air. From two translucent shots of tape that can stick to anything it wants because of how strong the user is.

“Busted!” Sero cackles, snatching your phones away and pocketing them in his suit. He, too, looks very irritated, but also more excited for tonight’s plans than Kiri does. “Now let’s get you two sluts home where you belong.”

You can see flashes of cell phones snapping pics and videos of your private situation, making embarrassment flood inside of you. Mina stands next to you, her head bowed and her lips wobbling nervously. “Boys,” you begin. Like a flash of light, Kiri and Sero’s expressions grow darker and firmer, their eyes flashing with a hot wildfire. “Who?” they question.

You swallow hard and look around, noticing the eyes and the whispers. You know that people can barely hear over you the music, but God, if this isn’t humiliating! “Daddies,” you whimper, gripping your clutch so hard that your nails dig into it. “We’re sorry.”

But your boys aren’t swayed. In the blink of an eye, Kiri is hiking you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Save it for the bedroom, mamas,” he sighs. “Now let’s go before Bakugou gets in here.”

Sero does the same to Mina, making her squeal once and then twice when his hand slaps her hard on the ass. “Wait!” she shouts. “Where’s Lizard and Slipknot?” You look around for the two pros too, now realizing that they are nowhere to be found.

“Nowhere you need to worry your pretty head about,” Sero replies, walking in stride with Kiri through the club. “Only thing you need to worry ‘bout is us.” But as you pick your head up from Kiri’s shoulder, you see them: Lizard and Slipknot tied up in Sero’s tape in the corner of the club, sitting back to back.

You have no time to feel anything but humiliated as Kiri and Sero carry you and Mina through the throng of clubgoers who stare like you’re some exotic animals being hauled off to the zoo. You suppose that this is what you deserve. Pissing your boyfriends just for good sex? Only the brattiest bitch alive does that!

Finally, outside in the bitter winter cold, Kiri and Sero lower you and Mina onto your feet and hand you the fur coats that you left at the party. Bakugou’s sleek, black Range Rover sits in front of you along with your two other boyfriends in the front seat. The passenger window rolls down and your heart jumps at the sight of your other two partners.

“Got ‘em!” Denki joyfully hollers, smirking wickedly at you. Bakugou twists his head to glower at you and Mina, his look dripping with promises of endless torture. “Get your asses in the car now,” he demands, his tone not up for discussion.

With your heads hung low, you and Mina crawl into the backseat of the Range Rover only for Kiri and Sero to crawl in behind you and force you both onto their laps just as the door closes and locks. You are trapped. Denki turns the volume to the music up just as Bakugou hits the gas, and the car zooms down the street away from the club.

You have to grip the car door and Kiri’s thigh to keep from falling forward due to the speed. It feels like Bakugou is going about ninety, especially without a seatbelt. Kiri tuts as he squeezes you in his lap, your ass sitting perfectly on his cock. “You two just won’t learn. What are we gonna do with you?”

The bass to the music pumps through your ears and shakes the windows just as Kiri snakes a hand down between your legs, hiking up the skirts of your gown. He begins to palm at your thighs, his calloused fingers snaking across your skin. You do your very best to keep your thighs closed, not wanting him to expose your secret.

You turn to look at Mina who is sitting in Sero’s lap, biting her bottom lip as he presses sloppy kisses to her neck and plays with her tits outside of her dress. “You wanna explain yourselves?” he asks, sneaking a glance at you.

Before you can open your mouth, Bakugou hits the gas harder and the car accelerates down the highway, now going about one hundred. You would lurch forward and probably end up in the front seats if Kiri didn’t tighten his hold around your arm.

“Bakugou!” you shriek. “Please slow down!” The platinum blonde’s crimson eyes shift to yours in the rearview mirror, silencing you with the level of irritation in them. “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do in my car,” he growls.

Kiri’s knee has begun to slide between your thighs, unfortunately rubbing against your pussy. The speed of Bakugou’s driving and the slight bumpiness of the street help to stimulate you against your boyfriend’s knee, no doubt staining it in your juices. Denki tosses an arm over the passenger’s seat to look back at you and gasps, a wicked smirk curling onto his lips. “Ohhh, I know why she wants you to slow down,” he giggles. “Just look down.”

Kiri and Sero look down at you where, sure enough, a slight peek between the slit of your dress gives you away. “Jesus Christ,” Kiri hisses, ogling at your bare cunt rubbing against his knee. “No wonder your ass looked different from the back!”

He turns to Mina who is now sitting with her legs forced open by Denki, her bare, pink pussy, freshly shaved and pierced with a tiny hoop, is on display. “No panties, babies?” Sero mockingly gasps. “Shiiiit, you two were askin’ to get fucked tonight by anyone, weren’t you?” He snakes a hand down to toy with Mina’s pussy, earning a soft moan in response.

Kiri does the same, two of his digits slowly sliding along your slit and up to circle your clit. Your body tenses at the slight yet torturously pleasurable touch, all of your senses coming to life once you finally, finally, get your man’s hands on you. “N-No,” you whimper. “Never.”

Mina whines in agreement as Sero begins rubbing her clit, playing with the cute little clit piercing she has. Denki watches like the pervert he is, damn near having a nosebleed.

“Then why the fuck were you in the club with those two extras like you were plannin’ on fuckin’ em, huh?” Bakugou snarls, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. “You tryna get a rise out of us? Because you’ve got it.”

Kiri has begun to kiss your neck while he toys with your clit, so words evade you. It’s up to Mina to save your asses. Sero nibbles on her earlobe, continuing to play with her exposed cunt on his knee. “Open that mouth up, slut,” he growls. “Answer the question.”

Then one finger sinks inside, making her choke on a moan. “W-We just wanted to have some fun!” she whines. “W-We—oh, fuck!—we weren’t gonna fuck those guys, ‘Suki, we promise! We love you!”

“So much,” you add, pathetically moaning as Kiri bounces his knee up against your cunt as Bakugou stops at the red light. “Well, you can show us how much when we get home,” the redhead hums, smiling almost wickedly at you and Mina. “You can prove it to us like we know you can.”

He uses his other hand to pry your thighs apart, keeping one leg firmly spread away from your cunt as his fingers play away like one would with piano keys. You moan, your voice drowned out by the music and have the urge to grind your hips in Kiri’s lap. Your pussy is throbbing and gushing around nothing, desperate for more.

But a sharp smack on the thigh stops you. “Ah-ah, puta,” Sero hisses at you, still fingering Mina. “No grinding. You just sit tight and don’t you dare try to touch that pussy either. This is what you fuckin’ get for your choices.” You whimper pathetically, doing your very best to keep your body still despite the rippling pleasure inside of you.

“And if you two whores even think 'bout cumming now, you won't get to later,” Bakugou growls, glaring at you and Mina in the mirror. “Trust me: I’m not playing.”

You know he isn’t and that scares you…scares you because there is no telling what kind of torture he and the boys have in store for you until they finally make you cum. That could be all night or not at all.

As soon as you get home to your beautiful and expensive penthouse, luckily not getting pulled over because of Bakugou’s reckless speeding and swerving, Sero and Kiri are carrying you and Mina across the threshold of your bedroom like brides. Once you’re there, the duo toss you and Mina onto the bed in your gowns, making you squeal as you soar through the air before landing on the soft, king-sized mattress underneath you.

And there you and your girlfriend are, trapped in your own bedroom because of the four big, tall, and sexy pros that stand before you, surrounding you like predators. Their gazes are hot and lustful yet intimidating, promising you a night of endless punishment and possibly orgasms until you cry and beg them to stop.

“Now don’t you two look adorable,” Denki coos and then taps his finger against his chin. “But somethin’ is missin’…” Bakugou snorts, crudely cupping his crotch where his cock has begun to harden and chub against his slacks. “It’s those damn dresses. Sluts don’t wear clothes, especially expensive ones.”

The look in their eyes is damn near evil as they pounce on you and Mina, yanking down the zippers to your dresses and nearly breaking them just to get your dresses off as quickly as possible. You gasp as Bakugou yanks the gorgeous red number off of your body, leaving you in just your heels, the same as Mina. “Leave the heels on,” Sero hums, staring hungrily at your and Mina’s slender feet. “I like ‘em on.”

“Mmm, me too,” Kiri hums, kneeling before Mina’s pretty feet in her strappy Louis Vuitton heels.

A hiss whistles through the pink-haired pro’s teeth as Kiri begins kissing over her stomach and down her thighs, his big hands grasping her ass to hike her legs up. He tosses them over his broad shoulders as his pink lips cascade over her inner thighs, earning soft moans in response. He lifts his gaze to her, locking eyes. “You like my kisses here, Mina, baby?” he murmurs.

Mina slowly nods, lips parted and panting, just as Denki kneels by her head on the bed. “Y-Yes, Daddy,” she whimpers. The honey-blonde is now shirtless and just in his briefs, his hard cock chubbing against his Calvin Kleins. He produces a bottle of champagne from behind his back, grinning down at Mina. “You’ll like this too.”

Pop! The cork of the champagne bottle pops off and Denki successfully catches the champagne fizz into his mouth before leaning down to transfer into into Mina’s mouth. You watch the two messily makeout as Kiri begins to dive into her pussy, gently nibbling on her pink pussy lips before his tongue drags across her clit.

Your watching is interrupted when you suddenly feel Sero’s mouth on your pussy, the cold metal of his piercing melting against your hot pussy lips. “Hope I ain’t interruptin’ you,” he teasingly murmurs against your mound. “You just looked too good, mamì.”

You moan and writhe against the bed as your boyfriend lashes your pussy with his tongue, caressing your clit and your lips, sucking on each one before dragging his nose up to lightly brush against the needy button of your clit.

Beside you, Mina is caught in the rapture of pleasure as Kiri dribbles champagne onto her pussy and greedily sucks it up. Sero catches on and takes the bottle from him, pouring the fizzy alcohol onto your soft, wet cunt. You jump at the cold sensations of the liquid hitting your hot, sensitive skin, wetting you up.

“Goddamn,” Sero sighs, his eyes hooded and dazed as he stares at your cunt dripping in champagne. “I swear this pussy was made for me.” He goes back to greedily sucking and lapping at the alcohol as he drinks in your pussy, making you nearly arch off of the bed.

Bakugou hovers over you now, his vermillion eyes drilling holes into yours. He is semi-naked, the same as Denki, each muscle rippling with veins and power. Your eyes indulge in his tattoos–one on his right pec, one on the left side of his neck, and the others trailing across each toned arm in sleeves.

He smirks down at you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from the tent in his Armani briefs. “Ya like whatcha see, baby?” he murmurs. You nod, answering with a sweet moan as well when Sero swirls his tongue over your entrance, messily eating your pussy. “S’good,” he moans into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me.” Bakugou places a hand on your throat, forcing you to pay attention to him. “Tilt your head back for me.”

You do as you’re told and he snatches the champagne bottle from Sero before taking a swig from it. He then places the bottle aside on the nightstand and leans down to press his lips to yours. The cold liquid pours out of his mouth and into yours, forcing you to swallow all that he gives you before his tongue caresses yours, swirling and dancing in the middle of a very messy, very sloppy kiss.

When you suddenly feel Sero’s finger prying your asscheeks apart and the familiar, bulbous tip of a butt plug, you hurriedly pull away from Bakugou. The metal tip is cold against your asshole and though isn’t inside of you, your body reacts as if it is. “A-Ah!” you gasp. “Wait, don’t—“

“‘Wait, don’t’ nothing,” Bakugou growls, gripping your throat and briefly restricting your airwaves. “Whores like you don’t get a choice in this. Are you dumb?” He squints down at you like this is the first time he is realizing it.

Denki laughs, pinching Mina’s nipples while Kiri is still lapping, sucking, and slurping away, her heels pressed against his back muscles. “Obviously if she thought she was gonna get away with tonight.” Denki glances at Bakugou, mirth in his eyes. “They complained all night about the party, fellas. I think we should give ‘em somethin’ to really complain about.”

The excited and greedy glow in your boyfriends’ eyes is the stuff of nightmares as you share a withered look with Mina.

You can only wonder what the four pros have in store for you and your girlfriend for the rest of the night until the dawn of 2025 hits the skyline.

Will they bend you over and take turns filling you up with their cum until you’re begging them through tears to let you cum? Will they not fuck you at all and instead spend time between your thighs, eating your pussy until it’s falling off the bone and overly sensitive? Will they spank your ass until it’s coated in their handprints and force you to deepthroat them until you choke?

None of these thoughts even come close to what they do to punish you and celebrate the coming of the new year. You come to know what true pain and suffering are when you and Mina are forced onto your hands and knees with your wrists and ankles tied in the sticky tape that Sero’s quirk produced for the occasion. “Now don’t move too much, mamìs,” he chuckled as he wrapped your ankles up. “This won’t come off even if ya squirm. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourselves before we have any fun.”

But that isn’t even the worst of it. All four of your boyfriends make it a point to strip buck naked in front of you and Mina’s excited eyes, each article of clothing falling to the floor making arousal stir inside of you. Your wide pupils glide over each vein in a hand or forearm; each muscle jumping under a thick thigh or a bicep; each patch of hair on their chests or on their toned lower bellies that are in need of some licking.

Your eyes lower down, down, down to their bulges, each one different in size or shape but still the very things that you breathe for at this moment. Kiri notices your pitiful expression and coos at you, his hair tickling your face as he leans down to peck your lips.

“Is my baby feenin’ for somethin’?” he asks, his tone saccharine and almost mocking. You nod, leaning your cheek into his hand as he presses it against your face. “Well, that’s too bad,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna have to wait a little longer to get what you want, baby girl.”

Somehow, Denki finds it funny to give both of your pretty, plump asses spanks that are sparked with electricity, causing painful sparks to pop against your skin with each fall of his merciless hand.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

He cackles like a madman while Bakugou and Kiri kneel behind you and Mina, both of them fucking your pussies with their tongues while rimming you with matching butt plugs, all slick with cherry-flavored warming lube.

You feel tears cling to your lashes at the mixture of pain and pleasure, your hands writhing in the binds that Sero created for you, your ass shamelessly tossing back to fuck Bakugou’s face. “F-Fuck, ‘Suki, please!” you cry out, desperate to be released from the hold he has on you.

“S-Shit, Kiri!” Mina whines beside you, only growing louder when Denki yanks her up by her hair. “Please, please go faster! Please–”

Her pleas are silenced when Denki pulls his briefs down with one hand and shoves his throbbing cock, flushed with arousal, into her unprepared mouth. He hisses at the contact, strands of his hair falling into his face. “Goddamn, Mina,” he groans. “You talk too fuckin’ much. Had to give your pretty mouth somethin’ else to do.”

Sero hums in agreement, his own cock now throbbing and pulsing in front of your eyes. The sight of it makes you wetter, much to Bakugou’s enjoyment. “Want me to fuck your throat too, babes?” Sero asks, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin. You silently nod, your mind too blank to reply with coherent words.

With a moan, Sero slides his cock into your mouth just as Bakugou’s tongue rolls around your clit while your asshole clenches around the buttplug. All of your holes are played with as you sit on all fours between Sero’s body, hardened by years of training and hero work, and Bakugou’s wicked, pierced lips and tongue. “Fuck, mama, yes,” Sero hisses, his fingers digging into your hair, wrapping your braids around his fist. “Wanted to do this to you all night.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Kiri moans into Mina’s pussy, pulling away with a wet, smacking sound. “Me too. I would’ve done it at the party though that wouldn’t have been too manly.”

His cute little response probes some giggles out of you and Mina, causing Sero and Denki to shudder at the vibrations that travel up the bases of their shafts. “Even your laughs are hot!” Denki groans, in full goon territory for his girls. “How the fuck are you both this fuckin’ sexy?”

He and Sero each pull their cocks out of their mouths and hold them together, side by side, slick with your and Mina’s saliva and their balls heavy with unreleased cum. “Go on,” Denki sniggers. “Give us a kiss.”

You and Mina each lean over to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your boys’ cocks, moaning like you’re straight out of a porno…but that comes naturally since Bakugou and Kiri won’t let up behind you, tonguefucking your pussies until the both of your moans reach a crescendo.

Mina pulls away from the sloppy makeout session and Denki’s cock to cry out in desperation, her pink curls bouncing around her face. “O-Oh, my God!” she whimpers. “I-I think I’m gonna–”

“No, the fuck you’re not,” Bakugou growls, tearing himself away from your pussy to glare at the pink-haired girl. “You’re gonna wait ‘cause you didn’t get permission yet.” He swats you across the ass, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your core. “That goes for you too, slut. What, you think I can’t feel that pussy tightenin’ up?”

You whimper pathetically as Sero taps his cockhead against your soft, wet lips, applying his own kind of stickier lipgloss to them, moaning at the feeling on his sensitive head. “I-I can’t—h-ha—help it, ‘Suki,” you stammer. “I-I….oh! I need to–”

Abruptly, you stop when you feel Bakugou’s cock slap against your wet pussy, making your jaw drop at the immense pleasure that the slight little thwack gives you.

“Nah,” Bakugou huffs as Sero moans, still sliding his cock against Denki’s and your lips for some relief. “What you’re gonna do is cum all over my dick when I tell you to. You know why?”

He circles a hand around your throat, squeezing harder than he did before, as his lips ghost over your ear. “Because you’re mine,” he whispers. As soon as the last word is uttered, he is sliding that gorgeous cock inside of your soft, wet, velvety pussy, stretching you out in just the way you’ve been craving.

From beside you, Mina lets out a high-pitched moan that is almost worthy of a Grammy when Kiri slides inside of her. You turn to watch him grasp her hips with his big hands, digging them so deep into her ass that he is surely leaving bruises, as his own hips begin to rock against her.

His cock plunges in and out of her cunt, his balls swinging between his muscular thighs, just as Denki inserts his cock back into her mouth. Mina looks so small between them, each of your boyfriends towering over her as they fuck each of her holes with a plug still plunged snuggly between her asscheeks.

And then it’s your turn. Sero finally slides his cock into your mouth just as Bakugou begins to fuck you from behind, slamming his hips into your ass that bounces with each mind-blowing thrust. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts, using one hand to massage one of your drooping, gorgeous tits while the other toys with your ass, spanking it as much as he sees fit. “You fit me so perfectly. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Kiri laughs, the sound like an aphrodisiac to your ears. “This one is too.” He nods down at Mina who is bouncing against his thick cock like a remote-controlled bunny, split between the buff redhead and Denki as he ruts into her mouth, cackling when her body thrashes at the feeling of his electric fingers tweaking her nipples and sending shockwaves throughout her body. “Think you good girls can cum for us soon?” Kiri pants, his handsome face flushed as red as his hair.

You frantically nod while Mina whines in response, each of you unable to speak ‘the English’ right now. “Bakugou, quit hoggin’ her,” Sero angrily grunts, his hand laced in your scalp. “You’re not the only one who’s fuckin’ her. The hotheaded blonde looks at the black-haired pro like he just insulted him. “You’re lucky I’m even lettin’ you fuck her, dickhead,” he growls. “Just try to keep up.”

Unfortunately for you, Sero can and he does. He and Bakugou fuck you between them like your body is going out of style, using your pussy and your mouth as much as they want and need. It doesn’t take long for Bakugou’s cock to stroke your insides and massage your G-spot so fucking well that you reach your first peak of the night. Bakugou feels you squeeze around his dick and grips your throat, massaging Sero’s cock down your throat in the process.

“Give it to me, babe,” he demands, using his other hand to twist the plug inside of your asshole. “Cum for me. Show these extras how good of a girl you can be.”

“You too, cutie pie,” Kiri coos, petting Mina’s ass the way she likes as he continues to rail her from behind. “Cum on that dick and be my good lil’ slut, hm? Don’t disappoint us now.”

Mina whines around Denki’s cock, spit dripping from her lips and all over the bedspread. You can’t help but stare at her as you feel pleasure ripple through you the more Bakugou fucks your cunt, making you see dozens of stars with your eyes wide open.

When your orgasm hits, it hits you hard like a freight train or a villain’s punch. Your eyes close and you see the entire galaxy, planets and all, as the first wave of total bliss hits you and submerges you in pleasure. Your pussy grips Bakugou tighter than a vice as you gush all over his cock, stroking and milking him of all that he is worth. Your voice is loud enough to worry the neighbors as you moan and cry around Sero’s cock, the sounds of your release as muffled as they can be during such an intense orgasm.

Mina cums in unison with you, the both of you coming undone on your boyfriends’ cocks just as the clock hits midnight. As your sweet moans echo throughout the bedroom, filling the walls with the echoes of your pleasure, the sounds of distant cheering from the penthouses next door and fireworks popping somewhere in the distance explode from all around you. In your delirious mind, you think that these people are cheering because you were finally allowed to cum.

“A-Ah, fuck!” Denki gasps, gripping Mina’s hair as Kiri grips her ass, pressing himself flush against her. “She just latched onto me tighter!” Sero breathlessly laughs, pressing his cock deeper down your throat as your lips tighten around the base, his balls flush against your chin. “So did this one. I bet they needed that.”

“And I fuckin’ need it too.” Bakugou grips you tighter as he begins to slam his cock into you again and again, turning your cunt into silly putty around his throbbing length. Your mouth falls open at the sensations, the pleasure almost agonizing. Your pussy is so sensitive from the orgasm that it quivers and clenches around Bakugou who fucks you like he’s trying to fill you with his kids.

“Not done,” he grunts, groping your tits and tweaking the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Gotta fill you up first. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson about fuckin’ with me.”

Kiri begins to fuck Mina at the same breakneck pace, his big body mounting her tinier frame as he pistons his cock into her again and again. “Oh, fuck, this is gonna make me cum!” he warns, making Mina bounce on him like she’s on hydraulics. “You gonna take it, Mina, hm? Like a good lil’ slut?”

“Yes!” Mina gasps, her moans and sobs of pleasure broken because of the speed Kiri is fucking her. “Yes, Daddy, I promise!” Denki quiets her down by slipping his cock back into her mouth, making sure he is nice and snug in her throat before thrusting in her face. “Don’t leave me out,” he groans. “I’m about to bust too.”

“M-Me too.” Sero slips his big dick in your mouth, collecting saliva from your bottom lip before swishing it around the inside of your mouth with his cock. “‘Bout to fill this pretty neck up,” he pants, fucking your face like he would a toy. “You’re gonna be feelin’ all of this shit for days, mamìs.”

You know that, and you couldn’t be more prepared to feel the rawness in your throat and the soreness in your muscles after this. You let your boyfriends use your body, see-sawing you between their cocks as they use and abuse your holes like they were made for them and them alone. Their rough fucking causes the bedsprings to bounce and creak below your bodies, no doubt signaling the neighbors below that you are, indeed, fucking.

When your boyfriends’ moans begin to grow louder and more intense, you know that they are right at their peak. And so are you. Because your wrists are still tied, Bakugou has to reach down to rub your clit with his calloused fingers, quick and precise. “Cum with me,” he demands, his voice all in your ear. “Cum with me right fuckin’ now. Gimme another one, baby.”

With a muffled whine, your second orgasm roils through you just as Bakugou’s body tenses and he stills. With a guttural moan of pleasure, he fills you up with his cum, flooding your insides with a week’s worth of nut. Sero cums too, spilling curses in Spanish as he slams into your throat with one final thrust. His spunk coats your tongue and spills down your throat, forcing you to take every ounce of it down your throat to your tummy.

Beside you, Kiri and Denki’s moans are loud, unabashed, and extremely verbal as they get closer to their end. Chants of “M’gonna cum, m’gonna cum” and “Take it, baby” escape them as they finally fill Mina to the brim with their streams of spunk.

The pretty, pink pro takes it all as she shudders between them and thrashes against Kiri’s hips, her own orgasm taking control. Her eyes roll to the back of her head at the intensity of the orgasm, her long, doll-like lashes fanning across her cheeks as she closes her eyes at the bliss.

“Oh, my God,” she sighs, her tone breathless and soft. “That was amazing.”

“And you’re not done yet.” Bakugou slows his fast, rough thrusts down to a slow, gentler yet deeper pace, stroking your sensitive pussy walls. You feel like running from him at this point. “We’re not finished here yet, little girl,” he whispers, his voice low and raspier than usual. It makes your cunt throb around his pulsing cock, making the pleasure almost agonizing. “We’ve still got plenty of tonight to punish you little whores.”

“And celebrate 2025,” Kiri chuckles, stroking Mina’s ass before giving it a firm, open-palmed smack. “I can’t think of a better way to ring in the new year than makin’ these cuties cum over and over again.”

Bakugou presses his hand against your cheek, making you turn to look at him over your shoulder. With his hips still rolling sweetly against your ass, plunging his cock into the wet depths of your pussy over and over again, his hooded vermillion eyes lock with yours, daring you to not look away.

“You can handle that, can’t you, sweetness?” he asks, cheeks flushed and muscles clenched from the force it takes him to not cum. “You can go all night and take what we give you without question, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sero hums in agreement, sliding his cock out to wetly tap against your tongue. “After all, you and Pinkie still got some apologizing to do for earlier.”

He reaches over to give Mina a smack on her ass, making her moan against Denki’s balls that he’s got in her mouth. You stare up into Sero and Bakugou’s eyes, melting under their hot gazes. “Yes, Daddies,” you answer for both you and Mina. “We promise.”

Mina tears her lips away from Denki’s balls as he strokes his cock in her face, ogling at the way her ass looks squished against Kiri’s toned lower abdomen. “Just please fuck us!” she whines, tears glittering across her thick, black lashes. “We promise we’ll be good girls for you, Daddies! Just don’t tease us!”

The four pros smirk at each other, each one planning their own bullshit for their pretty little brats. Anything to force their babies to understand the error of their ways and take responsibility for their actions. Anything to make very sure that you understand that if you even look at another guy, you won’t be able to walk for days afterward.

Fortunately for you and Mina, your private NYE celebration lasts for several hours where your boyfriends and Daddies put you in every position possible to fuck more of their cum into your holes.

After Bakugou’s cock, you get Sero’s and then Denki’s and then Kiri’s, each of them spreading you out and dicking you down the way they see fit. And then each one of them fills you up with their spunk or coats you in it, decorating your ass, tits, and face in their cream the same way they do their kisses and bruises.

Finally, after what feels like all night, you and Mina lay on the bed, naked, exhausted, and covered in cum. You heavily pant next to each other, exhaustion taking over. Your makeup is destroyed, running mascara coating your cheeks, and your hair is a sexed-out mess. Both of your tinier frames twitch from your orgasms, your pussies leaking with spunk and your assholes clenched around the butt plugs still nestled in your asses.

Your boyfriends kneel over you with their sweat-soaked muscles and flaccid cocks, watching their girlfriends tap out for the rest of the night. Supremely satisfied but absolutely winded and sore. Bakugou reaches down to grab both your and Mina’s chins in his rough hands, his crimson eyes intense and stern.

“So,” he rasps, “you two lil' bimbos gonna fuck around and act up like that again?”

You and Mina share a soft-eyed, dazed, and cum-drunk look before you look back up into your man’s eyes. “No, Daddy,” you answer in unison. “We promise.”

Until next New Year’s, at least.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #bnha smut #my fic shit #poly smut #bakusquad x black!reader #poly bakusquad #bakusquad x reader #mina x black!reader #kirishima x black!reader #bakugou x black!reader #sero x black!reader #denki x black!reader

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kimingyuslover · 4 months ago

Text

Sweet Revenge

Synopsis : You get into a fatal car incident, but later you wake up and find yourself back in the past. You vows to take revenge on your adopted family.

Word count : 7,750

Pairing : Choi Seungcheol x reader.

Genre : Romance, revenge drama, contract marriage, time traveler!au & smut.

Warnings : mean stepmother & stepsister, mentions of car crash and fire incident, CEO SEUNGCHEOL, make out session that leads to both individuals doing sex, smut, red leading to black flag ex, infidelity (not reader and seungcheol), mention of period, sexual tension(?), lovey-dovey couple, sexy and delicious seungcheol 🫦🫦, simp!seungcheol, he fell first and they both fell harder.

★ THIS IS MY VERY FIRST FIC THAT REACH MORE THAN 3K WORDS AAA, and sorry for the delay because i forgot what the ending was supposed to look like, also the smut warning below. enjoy reading it, xoxo

☆ check out my other works > main masterlist

Smut warning : making out, pussy eating, cream pie, BIG DICK!cheol, reader sucking on seungcheol's fingers, breast play(?), sex without protection (don't do this shit in real life) this is my first time writing smut, lmk if i miss anything!!

“You can't just break up with me when you know our wedding is near!” Hearing that makes your blood boil, he’s right, your wedding is near, but don't you think it's too much? Get married with your fiance after knowing he likes your sister and they have an affair going on?

You don't even know how you can return to the time before Se-hyuk & you get married. All you remember before is you're in a coma after big accidents between your car and theirs. And now you're wearing your cancelled-wedding dress, in the boutique store that you remembered has been closed.

“I shouldn't even fuck with you, Yoon Se-hyuk” That's all you say before you ripped the gown, paid for it and then go straight to your car without sparing a glace at him.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“Han y/n! Se-hyuk is searching for you” You sigh heavily, you already blocked his number & any other social media platform so he can't annoy you anymore, but now he's coming to your house? You wonder how much audacity he has, because he was brave enough to come here after you made him gone in your life.

“Tell him to go home!” You don't want to see his face anymore. Every time you remember it, your heart aches so much that it brings your eyes to tears.

You know you have never been so lucky in your life. Your stepmother opens your bedroom door, telling you to talk with Se-hyuk.

You told him to talk with you outside, and he's holding onto your hand like a lost puppy.

“I told you to fuck off, didn't i? What is wrong with you? I told you don't be near me anymore!” You yell at him, and before he can even answer, his phone rings and when you both look at the contact name, you decide to be the one who answers the call.

It was his mother, “Hello? Se-hyuk, I'm searching for a hanbok right now, and they have a lot of variety. What colour do you think would match me well?” After a few seconds of silence, you answer her.

“Pink and green will suit you the best auntie, and for your information, our wedding is canceled” You can hear his mother's panicked voice, asking what is wrong with your relationship, but you didn't answer her, you hung up the phone and put his phone on shut down.

“Go away, Yoon Se-Hyuk” You said and turned your back to go back to your house.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“So, you're Han Yu-ra?” The guy in front of you asked and made a smirk raised from your lips.

“No, I'm Han yn. I'm her sister, and I'm the one who’s going to be married to you” The sentence you left out making him arched one of his eyebrows, telling you to explain yourself.

“Here's the deal, we’re going to get married, you go back to Taeja's group, and both of our companies will merge and I get to have my revenge” You said calmly, while looking him dead in the eyes and smiling through your lips.

He asked what's in it for him. Luckily, you've done your research, “you can get your revenge on your brother too, isn't that what you wanted?” You tell him and your expression is cocky.

Both of you closed the deal and started making the rules to live in while still in your marriage life.

You are aware of your surroundings. There is a paparazzi that takes your photos, and Yu-ra is also in that lounge, walking to search for the man in front of you but then surprised by your figure that sat with him.

You had asked your cousin– who also deeply hated Yu-ra, to help you check Seungcheol's background and being the paparazzi at the hotel and will be the one who published the rumor for both of you.

She also knows about you going back in time.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Seungcheol brought you to his room to discuss the matter of your marriage, and suddenly, a question came to his head.

“Why did you choose me to have revenge on your family? Am I that handsome?” He asked while confidence was plastered on his face as he poured the wine for both of you.

You scoffed, didn't know what to say for a while because of his demeanor, “Because Yu-ra liked you, and also you're not my type, so don't be a big head”

His smirk faltered after hearing your response, and a scowl replaced his confidence.

Both of you are drowning your sorrow with the wine filling up the hollow of your body.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

A Few weeks passed, the rumors started flying in his company too, and now Seungcheol is in a meeting with your ex.

“Do you realize she's just using you?" Se-hyuk says to his boss, his tone dripping with arrogance.

The audacity of his words makes Seungcheol blood pressure spike. After everything he’s done—treating you so cruelly and having an affair with your sister—he still refuses to let you go? What the hell is wrong with him?

“That’s none of your concern, Manager Yoon,” Seungcheol replied sharply. Then, with a calm yet pointed smile, the CEO added, “And for the record, I don’t care if she’s using me. I love her.”

Se-Hyuk glares hard at his boss.

Maybe he still loves you, and doesn't want you to go run your own life, because after all you both have been in a relationship for a decent time, 5 years to be exact and the moment before you ended everything is 3 months before your wedding.

He knew better than to press the issue further. Instead, he turned his attention to the proposal his team had submitted. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind wandered elsewhere.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

"Aww, so you shut him out like that? You really love me, don't you?"

Seungcheol was used to your teasing by now, and he found it oddly satisfying to play along.

"Of course. You're my dear fiancée. How could I not love you with all my heart?" he replied, a smirk adorning his perfect features.

The two of you continued your playful banter late into the night. Eventually, you realized he had caged you beneath him on the sofa in the apartment he had bought for you both to share.

His intense gaze shifted between your eyes and lips before he slowly leaned in, his right hand cradling the side of your face. You responded with your lips brushing against his, a silent invitation.

When your lips met, Seungcheol kissed you like he was afraid of losing you, his touch tender yet passionate. You knew better, though. He loved it when your kisses turned wild— something you'd learned firsthand during your first kiss in a hotel room, a memory you cherished.

Your hands threaded through his black locks, pulling him closer as soft grunts and moans escaped your lips.

After what felt like ten minutes of an intense make-out session, He finally pulled back to give you both a chance to catch your breath.

Without hesitation, he asked, "Bedroom?"

You nodded in response.

Your relationship might not have started romantically, but deep down, something told you this could be the best thing that ever happened in your life.

Meanwhile, you and Seungcheol are having the time of your life, Se-hyuk is trying to get Yu-ra to go home because earlier she called for him, and he can tell that she's drunk.

He's rushing to the bar, throwing Yu-ra on his shoulder to take her to her house (which basically, yours too).

But a plan can't always get in your way, can they? Yu-ra is drunk enough to have Se-hyuk stop the car in the stinky, small motel, so they can do the activity a soon-to-be brother-in-law and soon-to-be sister-in-law shouldn't do.

Even when Yu-ra is kissing him like a mad woman after entering the room, Se-hyuk still thinks about the afternoon event that makes the girl who sat between his legs pissed and starts to attack his sensitive spot on his neck so she can get his attention.

Pretty good to say, both pairs having an intimate time that night.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Here's the difference, Choi Seungcheol woke up from the best sleep he ever had with a smile on his face when he noticed you're still in his arms.

On the other hand, Yoon Se-hyuk was scared shitless when he saw Yu-ra's and his naked body and the motel room they booked for the night. He quickly gathered his clothing and put it on so he could leave the room fast.

Now, he can't even blame you for the canceled wedding anymore. He knew he was an asshole back then, but now he feels like he's a total dickhead because last night he fucked your sister, despite knowing that there's a cold war going on between both of you.

He’s still trying to win you back, with a constant push from his mother and sister, who many have labeled a gold digger.

Yes, he marries you for your money, that doesn't mean he doesn't love you, does it? Well, he admits, at first glance, that he has already fallen in love with you, the way you sit and talk elegantly about your interest, and that you are also searching for a husband.

Then, there comes Yu-ra who is always trying to steal his attention away from you to her, and that she always wears a slightly more provocative outfit when he's at your house, telling him that she already feels comfortable with him.

That leads to another. They started seeing each other more often without you knowing, and they started developing feelings for the other individuals, making it so complicated.

He doesn't know how you can find out about his affair with Yu-ra because both him and your sister are sure that they're playing clean, at least that's what they thought.

Unfortunately, you saw them minutes after the hard car crash. That puts you in a fatal condition where you can even speak or move your body. You can only move your eyes.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

After you woke up, your fiancé decided that it's time to have a shower, and he insisted that you both have to do it together.

It’s nothing dirty. He just takes care of you after the little act last night and having a light conversation with you, and what surprises you is that there's no awkwardness lingering between both of you.

The CEO said his schedule today is packed, so he’s going to come home late, so you told him you will be joining a cooking class that his mother attends.

You know Seungcheol's mother isn't quite fond of you, so you want to change her mind and want to start a good relationship with her.

It's 10 a.m. and the house is already empty, leaving the cool air behind.

“So, do you have any reason why you want to join this class?” Jamie– the owner of the class, ask you. So you answered, “yes, i want to sometimes cook with my fiancé, and my soon-to-be mother-in-law is joining this class, so i want to start a good relationship with her”

Jamie nodded with a satisfied smile, and then she talked to you about the rules on this class and other information you should know.

The odd thing is, Jamie looks a lot like your mother. They even had the same scar that looks like they have the same cause– a cat.

After she explains everything, Jamie brings you to her class and starts introducing you.

Seungcheol's mother looked surprised by your present, and then she shifted her eyes to her table again.

You greet her, and you're lucky because the table you got is side by side with her.

“Why do you join this class?” She asks, tone sharp, and she doesn't even know why it can come at such a tone when she didn't mean it.

“I heard from Seungcheol that you joined the cooking class here, auntie, so i said to him i'll give it a try to bond a good relationship with you” you answered calmly.

She gives you one last glare before deciding that it would be best for her to just ignore you.

When the class is finished, she told you to meet her at the café nearby, wanting to have a talk with you about your relationship with her son.

“I’m just going to ask you the point here” she says, making you gulp hard on her glare.

“Do you even love my Seungcheol? how can I trust you when I know your relationship with your ex has failed because you canceled the wedding!?”

You won't lie, that words cut deep into your heart, your body is shaking and your eyes are glossy, you want to get out of there soon, but before you can even open your mouth, she strikes again.

“Look, you can't even answer that question. How can I give Seungcheol to you when you can't answer the basic question I ask?”

Another voice joins in, a male voice that you and her are familiar with, because that's your fiancé's voice.

“That is not your business mom, the only thing that matters is I love her and she’s willing to try a relationship with me, isn't it enough?” He angrily said to his mom, and he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat, then you both walked away.

You are still sparing glances towards your back to see Mrs. Choi's reaction, but she just looks at both of you in horror.

Seungcheol doesn't even spare her a glance anymore, he just goes straight to the parking lot while still holding your hand to guide you.

“You okay? She doesn't do anything to you, does she?” His voice etched with worry that was evident on his face.

“It's okay, Cheol. She didn't do anything to me”

After you calmed him down, both of you entered his car, you questioned your car but he said a driver will pick your Mercedes up a few minutes ahead.

The strings of ‘sorry’ seem to never stop falling from his lips, and you can only tell him that everything's fine and he doesn't need to apologize.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“Ya, Han Yu-ra, what’s your sister like? She's marrying my brother, so I need to know her” of course Yu-ra and Se-hee— Se-hyuk's sister, knows who that voice belongs to.

Choi Seungchae, Seungcheol's sister and a well-known celebrity slash influencer in south korea.

“She's selfish, and always talks bad about people even if she is close with them, you know she was also adopted by my father, right?” Yu-ra said with a smirk on her face, that Seungchae wants to scratch her face with her perfectly fresh-made manicure.

Se-hee nodded her head upon hearing Yu-ra's words, she also added, “And you know? she’s the one who cancelled the wedding between her and my brother!”

“Also, I followed you on sns, can you follow me back? it'd be an honor to me!”

“I'm sure she has her reasons to end things with your brother,” Seungchae pauses before continuing her words, “and doesn't your description sound like you throw your sister under the bus Yu-ra? No? I feel like that is much more to your description, not hers”

She then walked away out of that store with her friends while they were laughing about Se-hee who bluntly asked her to follow back her SNS so she can brag to her other friends.

Yu-ra twitches her eyes, she can't even make Seungchae like her? What does she lack? She's perfect and she's going to tell her mom so she can ruin both family dinners.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

When Mrs. Choi goes to Seungcheol house, she didn't expect to see his son and you both sleeping together.

it's nothing serious, she would say. because Seungcheol's sleeping on the couch while his hands are holding onto yours who's sleeping on the floor with the position that could probably make your neck uncomfortable.

Startled by the sound of the door being unlocked, you shot your eyes open and found it weird that Mrs. Choi is here, she doesn't usually come in without any notice before.

You want to greet her first, but she quickly shuts you down and then grabs your hand to take you outside.

You want to protest, but before any words come out of your mouth, Mrs. Choi brings you to her embrace and starts hugging you tightly which makes you worried, what's wrong?

“Are there any problems, auntie? I’m sorry, I didn't mean to sleep here, I dozed off without knowing last night” You babbled to her, waiting for any impact that might have gone to your face.

Instead, she pulled away from the hug and started speaking, “I never seen him sleeping peacefully since he's graduated his elementary school because of his trauma, thank you for making him sleep like this again”

You don't even know what to say when she hugs you again, this time a little bit shorter, and she says, “You have my permission to marry him, the only thing you have to achieve is that i want you to join Taeja's group again”

And there's where your real revenge starts, with the help of your fiancé's family, of course.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Both your family agreed to have dinner together on Sunday night in Taeja’s group restaurant that they had reserved, only for the family.

Mrs. Choi doesn't look so fond of your stepmother, she knew about the backstory of your poor life because of her.

Meanwhile your father— Han Jiwoong, greets the other families with a genuine smile, your stepmother uses her sly smile, making everybody in Taeja's family start to scoff at her, even Grandma Taeja.

After half an hour greeting each other, here comes the main topic of why Taeja’s family and yours are having dinner tonight, it's to discuss your marriage.

“Our company will begin merging after they both get married, you don't mind that, right?” Grandma Taeja asks your family, especially your stepmother because her eyes are pointed to her.

She answered her with that mischievous smile of her, “we'll gladly accept that, grandma”

“But our daughter is not perfect, so we aren't really sure if she can be married with your grandson” she continues, and that makes your heart burn with anger.

“As you know, she works as a painter that only sell 2 or maybe 3 pieces total in her life, she can't cook on her own, and also adopted” The words that she threw at you make your heart pounds a thousand times than your average, all of that makes you nervous, but Seungcheol hold your hand to tell you he's here and everything is gonna be fine.

Seungchae seems to be confused by the tension from your family, she whispers to her husband, “what is this? Why are they trying to make their daughter look bad?”

While her husband only shook his head that means he doesn't know.

“I don’t care about the pieces she sell, my family is rich, we surely can make her life comfortable without her lifting up her fingers” Mrs. Choi said as she also knows about Han Jiwoong's wife's plan to drag you down.

Seungcheol chimes in, joining the conversation, “I'm the best cook in my family, you don't need to worry about both of us not eating, I can make her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we can also go out sometimes” His answer is sharp, undeniable.

“We also don't care about her being adopted, there's nothing to worry about, and we have 90% control of the media in South Korea, so we can shut them down if we want to” He added to ensure that anyone from your family can talk bad about you anymore.

Few hours passed, and the dinner was already finished minutes ago. You and Seungcheol are both satisfied by the dinner and also his family answers to yours.

“It's okay, they're good people” Your fiancé said to ease up your worries that were written on your forehead.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Summer is soon turning into autumn, and your relationship label is turning into husband and wife after being engaged for 3 months.

Today is the sacred day for you and Seungcheol, both of you will say the vows and a contract hidden beneath that.

Your father walks you down the aisle, a beautiful white gown draped around you, fitted bodice that accentuates the waist and a voluminous skirt that flows out dramatically made of satin.

You choose a sweetheart and off-shoulder neckline to anctuates your collarbone, and a natural looking makeup so it doesn't overwhelm you.

The veil made out of tulle, makes your face look beautiful in the altar lighting.

The procession goes really well, and you soon know that's because your step sister hasn't arrived yet.

after the guest and family member announce their speech— including Seungchae and her husband crying while reading theirs and it makes your heart warm at the sight, and Seungcheol's brother's cold speech that looks like it's just for formality.

When the photo session though, everything starts to irritate you a little, because not only your stepsister have arrived, she also wears a white dress, hoping to outshine the bride— yes, you.

She even goes live on social media, “Guys, look at my stepsister, she really looks beautiful isn't she?” while holding your hand, which you let go.

“I'm sorry, Yu-ra. I'd love to hold hands with my husband only” with a smile on your lips, filled with dread for her to take a hint.

“I love you, my wife” Seungcheol said, and you answered the same.

Both of you lean towards each other, letting the photographer take your sweet photo while kissing so happily and a grumpy Yu-ra beside you.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“Okay, so now what?” You ask your now husband, after the wedding ends.

“Why are you still asking? We’re going to have a Honeymoon, and we're taking the first flight to Jeju tomorrow” He said, making you feel ridiculous talking to him.

So you hit him, hard on his shoulder, “You said you're scared of the beach and ocean because of your childhood, we don't have to if you don't want it, we can go anywhere” You answered him and remembering his fear of the ocean that he told you a few while back.

“If you can face your fear, and eat my food without me having to do it first, so can I do it too, you're telling me we are in this together, right?” He looks at you like you're the one putting stars one by one in the sky.

And without a doubt, Jeju is where you both go.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“It's not that bad” Seungcheol says after you both reach your bedroom, and clean yourselves.

You gave him a smile, “right? it's calming” as you climbed to the bed, your brain turning his gears to think about the sleeping position tonight.

“Here's a pillow, you go sleep down there” Your words make Seungcheol furrow his eyebrows and eyes wide, “No! We can go sleep in the same bed”

The way he said it so casually makes your eyes also widen, you both definitely can't sleep on the same bed.

“I promise i'm going to hold your hands while we sleep–” before Seungcheol can even finish his sentence, you already throw the pillow to him.

“No!” You yell at him to make his eyes go even wider, which makes you smile sheepishly at him, while muttering soft ‘sorry’.

“You have a dirty mind, we wouldn't even do anything” and finally, you tell him, “okay, you sleep here”

And just before he can express his happiness, you added, “i'll sleep there" while grabbing your pillow and starting to get up from bed.

Well, of course Choi Seungcheol has to be a big headed person he is, so he caged you on the soft bed, making it impossible for you to move.

A week before your wedding, Seungcheol confessed that he has feelings for you, maybe that's why you don't want to sleep together.

“You don't believe my words, do you?” he asked, and the way you stay silent with your eyes wandering anywhere but him makes Seungcheol even more sure about his question.

His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes again, only to find you already doing the same.

Slowly but surely, he leans in, both you breath hot while your lips brushing the slightest.

it feels like you're so close but so far to his liking, so he grabbed the back of your head to push your lips to clash with his.

The kiss soon got heated with both of your tongues joining in, your lungs burning at the sensation begging to tell you to pull away from him but your brain keeps ignoring it.

Fortunately, after a few seconds Seungcheol pulls away, making you chase his lips that are stained with your lipstick, meanwhile yours was plump and glossy.

Your hands paw weakly on his shirt after gripping it like your life depends on it, silently asking him to put it away, and with that look in your eyes, how can he refuse?

Seungcheol wasted no time to take his shirt off, leaving him only in his black trouser.

You're now technically gawking at him, but how could you not? His bicep is big and you can even see the veins become more prominent. Looks like he's god's favorite, and that's why he has that body of a god.

Seungcheol goes to the bed again, only to find you still staring at him. Looks ready for him to cherish, and to ravish.

He kisses your lips again, but this time it's rougher than the last one, soon the kiss starts going to your neck and the sweet spot behind your right ear.

his hot breath fanning over your skin, makes you shudder. His next move lets you out a whimper, but how can you not? He cups your pussy through your short silk nightwear.

“Cheol” you moan, holding his bicep while looking at his other hand that goes under your top, fondling with your right breast.

Seungcheol can feel himself getting worked out. The trouser he had picked earlier today feels a little strained to his liking. He can't hide his growing bulge anymore.

He starts undressing you, taking his time while kissing the new spot he sees, while you can only whimper and moan out because you can't think of anything other than him.

“You're wet, baby” it's true, you've been wet since the moment your kiss got heated, and everytime you think of his demeanor, you caught yourself in a sinful scene.

You grab his black lock when he decides to dive in without giving you any warning, the sudden act makes you scream out loud, you don't really care who's gonna hear you, the hotel receptionist told you the suite was soundproof.

Your husband can tell you are close, so he pulls away from your cunt and you can see his chin and mouth glistening deliciously with your essence.

Without any words, he gets up to take off his trousers and boxer. His cock is massive with veins noticeable to your eyes, even though you two had sex before this, but you still amaze at his size.

You whine at him but he quickly shuts you up with a deep kiss to your lips and slowly he starts pushing himself inside of you, not wanting to hurt you.

His thrust started slow, but when he's sure you adjusted his size, he becomes rougher with you, grunts heavily heard here and there from him.

“Open” His words leave no room to argue, when you do open your mouth, he inserts his middle and index finger.

He smirks before opening his mouth again, “Suck my fingers, sweetheart” He left you speechless— not that you could answer him or something, you begin to suck eagerly, wanting to be a good girl for him.

After only a few thrusts, you can feel your stomach tightening a sign to warn that you're going to cum, and Seungcheol was aware of this so he fastened his pace, also reaching for his own high.

The way you clench around him makes your husband's head feel dizzy, and the time you cumming it also triggers him to come hard inside you, filling you to the brim.

He didn't immediately go off of you, he rested himself for a minute and when he did get off you, he carried you to the bathroom to clean yourselves out.

“I love you, baby” He said while carrying you, never in a million years he's thinking of saying that to someone. “And I hope you love me too” Seungcheol added.

The sweet moment makes your heart start warming, and you just hope that there's no other torture you'll get in this life.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Of course, your torture doesn't stop there.

Yu-ra is still snooping on your marriage life, and Se-hyuk is still being your pain in the ass.

One day, though, he's going inside your house and finds a file of treasure, the truth inside your wedding.

He quickly tells Yu-ra about it, and they both make their cunning plan with the help of your stepmother.

Meanwhile, you found out that you are your father's real daughter after taking a DNA test. The result makes your heart clench, so he abandoned you and decided to adopt you again?

And Yu-ra is not even his real daughter, all the torment you had in all your life just to know you're the real one?

“You're home late tonight, it's unusual of you, why?” Your husband asks why slowly walking to you while crossing his hand, and before he can say anything, you just go to wrap yourself on his body, wanting nothing but to be held by him.

The seconds he had you in his embrace, tears started falling from your eyes, your expression pained seungcheol to the deepest of his heart, willing to do anything to stop them.

A few minutes pass and you finally tell him what's going on and why are you home late at night crying your heart out.

The moment he hears the reason, he instantly soothes you down with his hand, silently telling you that it's okay to cry and you will resolve this problem together.

Since the honeymoon, you two got closer and eventually you started to like him too, your routine becomes more and more like a husband and a wife should be.

you sleep on the same bed, cooking or baking together, and even have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together.

Seungcheol's family also notices this, even Seungchae always teases both of you for it. His grandma also becomes more welcome to you, and being the kind person she always have, sometimes she invited you to Choi's manor to have brunch together with her and Mrs. Choi.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Seungcheol and you entered his family's manor at the same time, his mother told both of you to come here everyday, but since you’re busy you often call off her invitation.

But today is an exception because you and your husband don't have any schedule.

Mrs. Choi is already waiting for you at the sofa right before the entrance, she gets up to greet you.

Seungcheol is already having his hands in the air beside him, waiting to be hugged by his mother while closing his eyes.

After a few moments, he can't feel anything that close to his body, so he opens his eyes and can't believe what he is seeing.

His mom hugged you before him, when he saw this, he whined “mom! I'm your son, why is she getting the hug first!?” He said while slightly pouting and looking at you with a playful glare which you responded with you sticking out your tongue at his direction, mocking him.

“She’s my daughter! Of course i would hug her first, beside you don't come here as often as her and i'm angry for that” She defends herself after letting you go from her embrace.

The lunch was filled with a lot of laughter echoing in the table and the talk about everything you could ever imagine with cranky Seungcheol at his mother's house.

It's not a problem to have your husband sulky, because you know how to make him normal again, so you hold your chopsticks that you use to pick the galbi to his mouth, muttering ‘aaa’ to him.

Seungcheol looked at you weirdly and not wanting to take a bite but gave in when you kicked his shin beneath the table.

When your stomach is filled to the top, you three go sit in the living room and hold a conversation about your businesses.

The talk soon died down when an uninvited guests came barging without everyone knowing they would be here, it's your stepmother, Yu-ra and Se-hyuk that you think so pathetic because of how on's on his knees for you last week on a police station but now he's on their side.

“Oh, good. You’re here, mom” The words coming out of Yu-ra's mouth make Seungcheol’s mother want to gag. She doesn't have any right to call her that.

She was searching for a document in her purse, and when she found it, she shoved the paper to your face. She smirked before opening her mouth again, “your son and my sister are having a marriage that is based on a contract. She wants to use your beloved son for her own goods”

Mrs. Choi unfazed as she took the paper slowly, training her eyes into it before forcing her eyes to Yu-ra's again, she chuckles.

“First of all; don't call me like that, I don't want you to call me ‘mom’ because you don't have the right, second of all; do you not know literally anything beside this? I also participate in this contract. You should read it first before barging into my house like that” She gets up from her seat, and starts going to your stepmother.

“Teach your daughter some manners, how come she has a mother but doesn't have any manners or shame walking like that at someone's house? She must be getting it from her mother” You can basically see there's a lot of smoke coming out of her head, being the embarrassing attention to her because of her daughter.

Your mother-in-law also goes to your ex, “What kind of man are you? Why are you still interfering with your ex who has already married life? You’re the one who found out about the contract, are you? I checked the CCTV when I went there, and you know it can get you to prison, right?”

Her words leave three of them speechless, and before she turns around, Se-hyuk is already on his knees.

The sight makes you roll your eyes in annoyance, and the thing that makes you want to throw up is the fact that he started apologizing hundreds of times.

But she just stood there quietly, that's when you noticed the front bodyguard already at home, dragging all of them out of the house.

And after a few moments, the lady asks you if you're okay and when you said you're fine she turns to her son to give him a long well needed advice.

It's already sunset when you both decide to go home, and Seungcheol holds your hand throughout the ride, an act to comfort you.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

It's been weeks since your last encounter with Yu-ra, it happened just 2 days after the incident in the Choi's manor, she slapped you real hard before chucking her glass of water at you.

“You're a fake daughter of my dad, so let go all you have because you don't deserve it and you never will! you take everything that's mine!” She said with anger, the fiery glares she threw at you filled both of her eyes.

The way she started mocking you and even bringing up your biological mom hit your nerves, so you slapped her back, twice and smirked at her “Who said I'm the fake one? call father if he's aware of it”

When Yu-ra got home, she got into a big fight with her father or stepfather, she's not his biological daughter but you are, and then her mom did nothing as she was just as speechless as her.

turns out you already sent him the file before Yu-ra's incident, oh and how he is mad is unbelievable because he also found out that his wife now already knew about it and didn't say anything.

He yells at her, and this is the one time everybody saw him losing his control, slamming the door right behind him, leaving the house hollow and cold because he takes the warmth from there.

While your family is having their problems, you're digging for Jamie– your cooking class mentor, if you'd remember, She “accidentally” tells all the students that she has a daughter but gets separated after an incident in her house.

And with that you're pretty sure she's your mother.

Her gestures, the way she talks and even the scars feel close to your mother, and she always gives you the warmth you had lost since your past incident.

After a few days of searching, the result of the DNA test you took with Jamie came in your mail.

Tears start brimming on the edge of your eyes, the test result is that you're 99,9999% share the same DNA with her.

Seungcheol is there too, watching all the scenes with both of his eyes, and when you start getting weak after reading the paper, he saves you from falling to the ground.

There's one question in your head: Why should she leave you alone with your hell of a father?

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

The time you confronted Jamie about your test result, she invited you to her house to talk about this more privately.

When you go inside her house, she immediately hugs you tight on her arms as if she is scared to let you go again.

She tells you about the incident details, that she was locked in her bedroom when the fire started, she's calling anybody for help, but the only one she can hear is your stepmother's voice that told her to stay put in her position and that she will have to die.

Your dad and you were getting groceries together and she can come because she has to finish her painting before tomorrow comes.

She got a second degree burn on her right hand but got out just right before the house exploded because of the gas.

And the left side of her hand has the exact same cat scratch you saw the first day.

She said that she moved to the states after that incident and after knowing you're in the hand of your father because she needs a treatment that only america has, not knowing that your father left you a month after she left to the states while you're at a foster home.

No words exchanged after that, just a comfort silence filled the room while you both cuddled up on her sofa, watching your favorite movie of all time— according to your 7 year old self and your mother who remembers it.

You already told Seungcheol about this, and he said that it's okay and you need to have a quality time after a long time not meeting your mother.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

A month after you met your mother, she decided to move into the house beside yours and Seungcheol, wanting to be closer to you.

Your father finally comes to his senses and always shows up at your mother's front door while holding a bouquet of Daffodil and some peonies.

Yu-ra and her mother got their karma.

Your stepmother's crime was finally discovered by the media and police, she's doing fraud and selling fake pieces of art.

The one who reported her? Your family secretary— Kim Jae Won, and how does he know it? Because most of the art that your stepmother sells is his father's painting, and he always knows his father's signature and the pen he uses, he is not going to be fooled by her.

Oh, and Yu-ra? She gets pregnant and wont even come out of her hotel room because the baby is already 7 months old— you heard from the Taeja's group hotel receptionist while you want to visit your husband.

She eventually got kicked out because Seungcheol's brother doesn't pay for the room anymore— yes, Han Yu-ra fucked with Seungcheol's big brother.

That's why she comes again to the Choi's manor, wanting to tell them that it's their son's baby.

Wrong choice.

The only one who was at home that time was Mrs. Choi and Grandma Taeja, they're having a girls talk while smiling to each other when the others talk or even laughing.

That's it until Yu-ra comes with her big belly and also a big suitcase.

She confidently tells both of them that she is currently pregnant by the seed of their oldest son.

“Well, they have a machine that can test the DNA of your baby while it's still in your stomach, they have it in Germany, want to try them?” Grandma Taeja says, without any words and panics evident in her eyes, Yu-ra gets out of that house and goes to her other victim's house.

Mrs. Choi and grandma Taeja then laugh at her antics, how can she be that confident without thinking of other things ahead of her?

“Oh! Han Yu-ra you're pregnant? Who's the father?” Se-hee technically freaks out when she sees Yu-ra standing in front of her porch while dragging a big ass suitcase.

Without any care of the world, Yu-ra blurts out “Your brother” that makes Se-hee's brain start to stop functioning at the very second.

She says that loud enough to be heard by Se-hee's mother and Se-hyuk himself with a woman she doesn't want to know anything about (probably his soon-to-be wife) hears it.

Well, upon hearing that of course Mrs. Yoon doesn't want her son's possible marriage to be ruined by some girl, so she gets up from her seat and walks to her while telling her to go away.

but when she gets closer to Yu-ra, she just shoves her away and goes straight to Se-hyuk who's still sitting at the dinner table.

He stood up nervously, and then the bomb finally said out loud, more clearly, “he's your suitor? don't accept him,” then Yu-ra's eyes made eye contact with Se-hyuk's “I'm pregnant, and he's the father”

The girl storms out furiously while grabbing her purse, straight to the open door of the apartment.

Meanwhile Yu-ra dragging Se-hyuk to his room, she chuckles slyly, before asking him, “how can this baby live in this small house?”

Se-hyuk takes both of her hands and looks up to her, “Why don't we live in your house? It's good for the baby to live there”

Hearing that Yu-ra's blood started to boil again, she slapped his right cheek, leaving him with a bright red cheek.

“Why can't you take the hint? if i'm still living there i would not even step foot on this small freaking apartment! my father disown me and then he proceeds to fucking throw me out!” She yells at him.

Well that’s the ending of hee story, you would say pretty tragic, right?

Meanwhile, she's suffering.

You actually have a good life, and now you sat on the dinner table with Soojin— the same cousin who took the pictures of you and Seungcheol the first time and Seungchae who is now helping your mom in the kitchen with her cooking.

Soojin and Seungchae have a competition, which of their food that you'll love, and basically the winner gets free chicken and beer for a month.

But after they finish cooking and you start to pick up the food with your chopstick, you suddenly feel a lump going up your throat, and now you feel like you want to throw up.

So you ran to the bathroom, there you threw all your guts out without any hesitation.

When you got out of the bathroom, you found three of them looking at each other in silence, “what?” You break the silent atmosphere because they all suddenly turn their heads at you.

Soojin spoke first, beating Seungchae that just opened her mouth, “when is the last time you had your period?”

Then everything starts to kick in. Your period is late by 3 weeks now, and you always have that morning sickness.

“I'll grab you a test” Your mother said hurriedly, after a moment.

When she took it out of her bag— which you don't know why it's there, you went to the bathroom again, for checking.

The result came out positive, so when you tell it to everyone, they start hugging you like crazy, and your mom brings you to the dining room, insisting that you have to eat more.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“So, any news today?” Seungcheol just got off work and he's asking you while hanging his coat.

You fiddle with your fingers, confused how to tell the big news to him, so you just said, “I'm having a morning sickness and my period is still not coming today”

Without any warning, Seungcheol holds your waist and behind your knees, and now he's carrying you with bridal style.

“Maybe you need some refreshment?” You see what he's doing now, so you just blurt out, “I think I might be pregnant!” while closing your eyes, probably expecting him to drop you immediately.

Instead, he puts you down slowly then just stares at you very lovingly with his eyes brimming with tears.

He opened his mouth like he would say something, but nothing came out, just a big gummy smile from him.

And then he starts getting closer, his hot breath fanning at your skin and your lips just a few centimeters away while holding eye contact with you.

That soon breaks by him and he starts kissing you slowly, passionately, while thanking you and praising you between the kisses.

Revenge is complete, and now you have a loving husband besides you while carrying his and your love.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen au #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups #scoups x reader #scoups smut #sweet revenge #kml.writes☆

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boypied · 3 months ago

Text

six thirty

[husband] bill skarsgård x male reader

summary: deciding to spice up your sex life after being married for a couple of years, you decide to try out a lap dance. during a lap dance, bill decides that your pleasure is of the utmost importance as he watches the way your ass jiggles as you sway it back and forth.

wc: 2.8k

notes: FNDI, MDNI, swearing, face riding, ass eating, smoking, ass slapping, lap dance, feminisation, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, breeding, cowboy position.

Bill had gifted you a special gift for your birthday recently, well it was more of a shared gift for the both of you. Your eyes widened in shock as you looked down at the lingere in the box below you. You've never worn lingere before, and it's been a while since you've both even fucked since you've been busy being a parent but luckily both your kids are out of the house today and it's just you a Bill. It's been months and the tension between you both was ready to pour out, it was over flowing in your bodies. Pretty much anything you did gave Bill a rock hard boner that caused him to leave the room if your kids were in there, bending over to check the food in the oven, walking around in your silk dressing gown that hugged your body perfectly, all these simple things gave him a rock hard boner for his husband that he's been craving so much. Bill doesn't really like masterbating because it's not as good as having your mouth wrapped around his aching length or your hole tightening around him with each thrust, so his balls are pretty full and heavy, full off his sweet delicious cum. Your eyes look up at him and you see a dark hungry look as he looks down upon you as you lift up the red lingere that you've been gifted, "this is perfect baby" you say in a breathy excited tone as you stand up to wrap your arms around his neck pulling his body closer to yours. Bill's hands travel down your body caressing against your juicy behind as he pecks you on the lips "go try it on for me like a good boy" he says which causes you to blush "it's been a while since I've heard you call me that." You say with a small smirk as you take the box that contains the lingere and you walk out of the living room blowing him a kiss before closing the living room door.

"I look so dumb!" You shout from outside the living room door, waiting outside wearing slutty lingere. A red lacey thong that perfectly cups your bulge and the small piece of fabric that rides up the back of your ass sliding perfectly between your asscheeks. "Come on baby! I bet you look super sexy!" Bill shouts out from the living room couch where he's sitting in his boxer briefs and vest top, waiting for you to come in and reveal your red seductive outfit. You slowly open the living room door and step into the room revealing the red lacey thong you're wearing that had matching stockings with it. "What do you think?" You say shyly as you step closer to him, Bill nibbles against his bottom lip as he smirks staring up at you. He jolts himself forward reaching out to caress your hips he grips the string of the thong that is hooked up resting against your love handles. He pulls on it watching it slap back against you causing you to let out a sharp whine then a quiet chuckle as you climb up onto his lap. Your eyes widen "wait! What time is it?" You look down at Bill as you sit down on his lap, he lifts up his wrist to look down at the time "six thirty, why?" He looks up at you with confusion in his eyes. You take a sigh of relief "phew, the kids won't be back for atleast another hour" you say with a smirk on your face as you slowly lift your hips ever so slightly and then you begin to grind down against his boxer briefs where his bulge grows feeling your bare asscheeks against him.

Bill's hands rest on your waist and then they slowly begin to slide down feeling the curviness of your asscheeks, "uh! No touching Bill" you say with a smirk as you climb off his lap causing him to let out a sigh. You turn your back to Bill as you begin to slowly yet seductively begin to dance for him, you bend over and gently spread your asscheeks revealing the red string that's buried deep inbetween your cheeks and it just about covers your sweet little asshole that Bill loves so much. "Fuck baby" Bill mumbles through gritted teeth as he bites down on his lower lip as he watches the way your ass sways back and forth as you sway your hips back and forth, you drop down to your knees stretching your body down into an arch, putting your ass into the air perfectly in view for him. Bill takes a cigarette from the little table beside the couch and he lights it, taking a deep puff before blowing it out as he doesn't take his eyes off your ass as you begin to twerk it for him in the arch position. With each jolt of your hips making your ass twerk, each jiggle causes ripples to send down your asscheeks hypnotising Bill, he can't take his eyes away from you. He leans forward, adjusting his large boner in his boxer briefs as he jolts his body forward reaching out to copp a feel against your cheeks. He runs his hand over it feeling it jiggle beneath him, "fuck baby" he mumbles out. "You like it?" You say through a breathy whimper as you continue to flick your hips up and down creating a ripple effect on your cheeks, Bill's eyes staying locked onto it. Bill lifts his hand up and strikes it down against your ass causing it to jiggle more and leaving it with a big red hand print.

Bill takes another drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out against your ass before putting the cigarette out in the ashtray next to him. You get up out of the arched position and you turn round to face him still staying on your knees, you run your hand across his thighs your fingers dipping into his boxer briefs ever so slightly causing Bill's body to shudder at the teasing feeling. You grip the hem of his boxers about to pull out his cock until Bill stops you, he grips your hands in his "wait...there's something different I want to do." He mumbles out nervously with a smile on his face, "something I should be doing way more" he says as his nervous exterior fades away and his seductive smirk grows across his face. Bill lays down on the couch and looks at you on your knees on the floor, "come sit on my face" he says with a smirk and your eyes lighten up as you climb onto the couch and you place your knees either side of him slightly above his head and you hover down slightly millimeters from his face. He reaches up and he tears the tiny red string that is buried inbetween your cheeks exposing your pretty pink hole to him, "sit." He commands in a dominant tone as you gently sit down on his face and for a moment nothing happens until you feel his warm wet tongue press against your hole and your cock pushes against the broken thong, your eyes slowly flutter back ever so slightly "n-ngh!" You whimper out feeling your hole open up for him. Bill's hands travel up your body caresses against your cheeks, holding them open exposing your hole for him more. You feel his tongue push past your tight muscle ring and Bill flicks his tongue against your velvet walls causing your body to shudder beneath him, "B-Bill!" You whine out in pleasure feeling his tongue bury itself deep inside of you, "mhm" Bill groans as he flicks his tongue.

Bill's hand caresses your asscheeks in a seductive way, causing you to throw your head back in pure bliss. You don't bother biting your lip as you let your loud moans flow out of your body to show Bill how good he's making his husband feel just from using his tongue. Your eyes slowly flutter shut to further enjoy it, and Bill's fingers travel further inwards closer and closer towards your tongue filled hole. Bill softly pulls his tongue out but adjusts himself upwards slightly to take your balls in his mouth, causing you to let out a sharp moan, "B-BILL!" You whine in pleasure, feeling your sensitive balls get sucked on. His fingers caress your slick wet hole that's been played with by his tongue, Bill's index finger gently pushes past the tight muscle ring that's been worked on for a while into your velvet walls that contract around his finger. "Bill!" You moan out, feeling his index finger curve and bend inside you all while his lips are suctioned around your balls. "Mhm" he groans out as his cock is painfully strained in his boxer briefs creating a tent large enough to hold a family. Bill's tongue continues to flick and swirl against your balls as they rest in his warm mouth, and Bill adds another finger into your hole, stretching more to accommodate another finger. He continues to work his fingers in and out of you, making sure to milk your g-spot each time as he's craving for you to cross the finish line. Bill wants to make you cum without using his dick, it's almost like a goal he's just set himself. He ignores the painfully aching feeling of his cock practically tearing through his boxer briefs cause your pleasure is all that matters right now, he will probably cum in his underwear by the sight of you finishing anyway.

Bill's cock twitches, begging for release. You stand up, feeling his fingers pull out of your asshole with a pop sound. Bill leans up on his elbows as he watches you pull away from him, "w-what? Did I do something wrong?" He says as a look of concern washes over his face, you breathe heavily as a smile grows on your face. "n-no! Not at all, baby." You say while taking deep breaths to try and calm down from that heated session. "I need you to do something for me," you say in a soft tone to him. As he gets up from laying down, he leans his back against the couch, looking at you. "Anything" Bill replies as he doesn't break the eye contact as you caress his face "I need you to fuck me." You say bluntly causing Bill to let out an excited chuckle as he practically rips his boxer briefs off his body letting his painfully rock-hard cock spring free. "Come ride it, baby boy," he coos out in a seductive tone as he makes his cock twitch as you straddle his lap, lining up his large member with your hole as you slowly slide down feeling his cock corrupt your asshole. "H-How long has it been?" Bill coos out as he feels your slick wet walls squeeze around his member as you reach his base, "m-months, " you whimper out as you rest your body against his enjoying the feeling of your husband back inside you after months of not having sex. You rest your head against his shoulder as you slowly begin to flick your ass back and forth while he's inside of you, "m-mhm" you whimper as you feel Bill's hands grip against your hips helping you flick your ass back and forth. "So good, baby," he coos in your ear as you slowly ride him.

Bill continues to whisper sweet nothings in your ear in a sultry way as you continue to grind your hips back and forth while his cock is buried deep inside you. "I love you," you coo out in a soft tone as you hold back your whines. Bill gently caresses your hair, moving some of it out of your face as you lean away from his shoulder, and you lean your head down to rest your forehead against his own. His eyes look up to meet your warm gaze as you begin to slowly lift yourself up and slowly slide back down, feeling his tip hit your g-spot directly. You both let out grunts and groans as you begin to quicken your pace, Bill's hands grip against your hips, helping you roughly smack down against his thighs. "B-Bill!" You whimper out in pure bliss, feeling him forcefully take control. He places his hands on your lower back, lifting you up ever so slightly just to lay you down against the couch, Bill's grips your ankles and opens up your legs as he looks down at your naked exposed body. He begins to slowly pump his hips into you in a soft, gentle way. Bill holds your legs open and leans down to reach your thigh as he bites down on your stocking pulling it off with his teeth and he does the exact same move on the other side leaving you fully naked for him. He places one hand on your stomach as he feels a slight bulge in your stomach, "is that my cock?" He says shocked with a smile on his face as you nod your head feeling his fingers trace over your belly bulge that slowly disappears as he begins moving inside you once again. Bill pushes your legs together, which tightens your asshole around his cock. He places both of them on his left shoulder he begins to speed up his thrusts, building up to piston fuck you.

With each thrust of Bill's hips, his cock pushes your velvet walls open for him to accommodate to his size. His large cock that you love so much. Your eyes roll back in bliss as he continues to piston fuck into you, not slowing down, keeping at a constant fast pace. Bill continues to milk your g-spot with each thrust of his cock. His eyes leave your pleasureful face, and they travel down to your rock hard cock that flops around with each thrust, your hands travel down your body to wrap around your cock that is ready for release. You begin pumping your cock in a quick pace matching the speed of Bill's thrusts into your asshole. "A-Are you close?" You whine out as his tip hits your g-spot over and over again. You're barely holding on, wanting to shoot your thick load. Bill quickly nods his head. "Y-Yes, can I c-cum inside you?" He says in a soft breathy tone as he continues piston fucking into you while you look up at him while jerking off at the feeling of him destroying your asshole aswell as the sight of your husband being all sweaty and horny. "C-Cum!" You whimper out as you jerk your cock a couple more times before you shoot your ropes of cum all over your chest and some of it even hits your face. Your eyes flutter back, and your asshole tightens around his length.

Bill tries to hold back from cumming but the tightness of your asshole was too much for him to handle and he pumped into you once more before he couldn't take it anymore and he shot out his thick ropes of cum, his creamy load painting your ivory walls white. Bill's body collapses on top of yours, the sweat from both your bodies colliding aswell as the cum on your chest spreading onto his. You both begin panting, trying to catch your breaths, Bill slowly begins to pump into you back and forth gently pushing his cum deeper inside you aswell as coating his cock in his own fluid before he slowly pulls out with a quiet pop sound that causes you to giggle. Bill lays down on the couch, pulling your body onto his. He moves some of the sweat soaked hair out of your face, and he looks up at the clock above him, reading the time "seven thirty" he mumbles under his breath before looking back at you "we have half an hour before our kids get back" he whispers to you as he gently places a kiss on your lips. You softly blush as you look at him, licking your lips to taste him. "Let's go get in the shower to clean up" you whisper softly back to him as he leans up and abruptly picks you up cradle style carrying you upstairs towards the shower as you both laugh the whole way up the stairs. "I love you," you say to him in between laughs as he takes you into the bathroom and gets into the shower with you, "I love you too, baby." He whispers into your ear before lifting you up once more, feeling the water from the shower pour against your back as he presses you against the wall aswell as pressing his lips against yours, for another seductive kiss.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x male reader #bill skarsgård x male reader smut #gay #x male reader #fanfic #x male y/n #male reader #smut #gay smut #lgbtqia #fluff #aftercare #gay aftercare #boypied #boypied fanfic

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cottonlemonade · 6 months ago

Text

Dracula And His Damsel

word count: 1135 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kyotani x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni, suggestive

request: watching Nightmare Before Christmas with pumpkin-spice, dressed as a tomato with Kyotani || fluffy-spicy, Halloween costume shopping with boyfriend Kyotani

Only through the power of undying love was Kyotani able to cross the threshold of the costume parlor. After weeks of hints decreasing in subtlety by the day, had he agreed to a couple’s costume for this year’s Halloween party under the condition that it would be nothing too out there or embarrassing. Even though, in all honesty, you could have asked him to wear a dress and he would have, just to see you smile.

“How about this one?”, you asked, holding up a picture of the Barbie movie on your phone, “You’re halfway there already. You’re hot, blond and your name is Kentaro.”

You giggled at your own joke and it turned into a full laugh when you saw his unimpressed expression.

“Let’s make this quick, alright?”

“Ah ah ah, good things take time, babe. Now, what are you in the mood for? Something dangerous? Creepy? Funny? Sexy?” With each new word, you pulled a different costume from the rack.

Your boyfriend raised a brow at the last piece. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“The Phantom of the Opera. A classic…”, you sighed dreamily, “And pretty simple. I just need a fancy ball gown for my part. Wanna try it on?”

“I’m good.”, he replied, disinterested, “Let’s get that one and leave.”

You hit him with the big doe eyes - a trick that had yet to fail its effect.

“But I wanna see how it looks beforehand. Please~?”

Today was no different.

“Fine…” Snatching the cloak and mask from you, he let you usher him to the spacious changing rooms - no wonder they were so big, considering some costumes were made to be worn by two people.

Five minutes later you brushed the curtain to the side to inspect. Kyotani flinched, needlessly trying to cover himself even though he was fully dressed.

“Ya can’t just come in here, ya know?”

“Says who?”, you replied and began brushing along the cloak and fixing his collar, “You look so handsome… even more so than usual.”

It was no use pretending that he didn’t love your praise. Years of pathetically crushing on you, followed now by months of clumsily being a boyfriend for the very first time had taught him that when it came to you, anything was his weakness. And your warm hands running over his chest, combined with sweet talk ensured he would stay in this dressing room until closing time if you told him to.

Reaching out of the curtain for a moment, you produced another hanger with a - to him - absolutely identical costume you found.

“If the phantom isn’t it, how about we go with another classic? Draculaaaa~”

“And who would you be?”

“Well…”, you said, tapping your finger thoughtfully on your chin, “I could either be some woman you seduce ooor maybe a vampire huntress?”

He hated how that idea made him blush and he was even more embarrassed when you noticed.

“Oh? You like the idea? Well, say no more! Imma grab a dress.” And with that, you wooshed out of the changing room.

A little while later, while he was tying the black and red cape, you slipped back through his curtain.

“Could you please help me with the corset, baby?”

“The c-…”

You would 100% be the death of him. It was only a matter of time.

Part of the reason he fell for you in the first place was that you were the exact opposite of him, bright and friendly, definitely something people would call approachable. And where he was considered lean and lanky, you were soft and rounded. This had led to many many afternoons of him bringing you home after a date and not being able to stop when you kissed him Goodnight because the feeling of your warm chub between his cold fingers was more addictive than anything he’d ever experienced.

“Babe?”, you asked when he could only stare.

“Hm?”

“The corset?”

“Right.”

You smiled and turned your back to him expectantly.

He examined the laces.

“Uhm… what… what do I do?”

“It’s kinda like putting on shoes, just tighten it a little. Not too much though, I like to breathe.”

The knowledge that he could hurt you in this situation if he did something wrong, made him hesitate but with a bit more encouragement (praise) he finished the job in no time.

“What do you think?”

You tilted your head a little, meeting his eyes in the large mirror.

“Pretty.”, he said, clearing his throat. His eyes had dropped down and landed on your breasts, plump and on display with the corset.

Obviously, you caught him looking. “Yeah?”, you teased, “Let’s take a picture. I wanna try something.”

You turned to the side, leaning your back against the wall, and pulled out your phone.

He stood there, waiting for instructions.

“Come here and pretend to bite my neck.”

And there was that stupid blush again. He stepped closer and opened his mouth as wide as he could, hovering over that sensitive bit of skin that usually made you so… noisy when you were alone. The camera clicked and he straightened, waiting for your verdict.

“Hm.”, you said, “It doesn’t look quite right.” You turned the screen so he could see. He looked very very stiff but that was his default in any pictures to be fair. He only had two modes. Stiff or glaring - already a huge upgrade from his high school days.

“Maybe this time try putting your hand here - yes, like that, the other there - perfect - and when you lean in, maybe just kiss my neck but with a bit more teeth.”

A truly terrible idea as he came to realize soon enough. The smell of your perfume and feeling of your warmth had him entranced and he could only vaguely hear you taking one picture after another.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

Only a small eternity later did he hear you gasp his name.

He moved in even closer, pressing his body against you, and automatically slotted his leg between yours.

His sharp incisors raked over your skin, making you shudder in his arms.

You brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders, steadying yourself as he continued to kiss, touch, and grind.

A large calloused hand came up to your breasts but with the corset, it was impossible to grab. He focused on his thigh pushing up to your core, groaning with frustration at that piece of impenetrable fabric keeping him from feeling heaven.

“Excuse me? Sir? Miss? What are you doing?”, the voice of the store clerk rang through the curtain and burst the hot bubble you were in.

“We’re almost out.”, you replied, decidedly croaky sounding.

Suddenly glad for the robes hiding his otherwise very prominent problem, Kyotani panted quietly, “We should get these ones.”

art: @_geolatte on Twitter

a/n: request for @rosetakemi

Thank you very much for your request! Ngl I thought I would struggle a whole lot more writing for him but it was actually really fun! I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

That concludes the Halloween event. Thank you so so much to everyone who participated, liked, commented, and reblogged. While the event was going on I surpassed 1000 followers and I can’t wrap my head around that. That’s so many of you!!! The next event will be a much simpler one that I had planned since… like May, but always kept pushing back because I thought of other things xD

#sunnys movie night #kyotani x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader #hq fluff #kentaro kyotani #haikyuu kyotani #kyotani x reader #kyotani smut

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the-fiction-witch · 9 months ago

Text

Missed You

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Sexy / Flirty Word Count - 784

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon lay in bed. His chamber in dragonstone fitting of his station, high in one of the castle's towers carved from deep black stone, with grand dragons, red and black fabrics everywhere. The fire burning low almost out, the sun yet to fully peak over the horizon but the sky was light enough to see, the heat of the volcanic island being pumped into each room making it all warm and comfortable Jacaerys laid in his bed his nude body cradled but black silk, his dark curls laid loose around the pillows, his high valerian book on the bedside table.

The door of his chamber opens causing him to stir still half asleep, he slowly sits up from his peaceful slumber and slowly blinks at the sight of his future wife in her skimpy red nightgown. “Y/n…?” he whispers groggily, still partially asleep and with his vision still blurred from his deep sleep.

Y/n cooed sweetly sitting on his bed and running her hand though his dark locks "sh sh sh,"

Jace still halfasleep smiled at her soothing touch, and in return began running his calloused fingers underneath her red silk nightgown and up Y/n’s thigh to her hip. “Why are you here so early?” he groaned, his eyes closed with his cheeks softly blushing.

Y/n shrugged "I woke early, I thought I would come and gently wake you, see how you slept,"

Jace sighed gently, smiling at the feeling of her smooth fingers playing with his hair. “I slept wonderfully, my love,” he replies, his fingers dancing across the smooth skin of her hip and up her body, caressing her stomach. He sits up more and takes a deep breath, inhaling the musky and soothing scent of her perfume a mixture of rosemary and lavender that filled his nostrils. “How can you smell so good, even at this hour?” he chuckles, slowly sitting up on the bed and planting a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"I knew I was coming to see you so I made sure to wear your favourite perfume," she cooed stroking the tip of her nose against his batting at him much how a dragon would bat at its mate

Jace smiled at her, a soft chuckle of contentment escaping his lips while his fingers slipped out of her red silk gown, slowly pulling her onto his lap. “Did you now, my love? How thoughtful.” he smirked a little, “You’re in a playful mood, aren’t you?” Jacaerys continued, his hands roaming under her nightgown once again.

"I have meerly missed you while you've been away..." She pouts

Jace gently took her chin with his calloused fingers, gently tilting the soft skin of her face so their noses were touch and he could kiss her lips soft and sweetly. “Have you missed my company? My body against yours?” he asked, the words slipping out of his mouth like velvet lace.

She nodded stroking her soft hands against his bare chest "I always miss you, all that has kept me sane all this time has been thinking of your return... And our... Upcoming ceremony"

Jace’s fingers slowly slipped up her nightgown, feeling her soft and pale skin as his thumb traced over her ribs. “You can’t wait until our wedding day, my love?” he said, his mouth softly pressing kisses into her shoulders while his fingertips danced along her skin. “I assure you that it’s all I daydream about, either. You’re my future queen, my future wife.”

"it is only a few more weeks and then we shall be married, and we will get to cosy up every night and wake each other with kisses each morning"

Jace’s hands slowly move up from her ribs to her chest, his calloused fingers tracing along her collarbone while his tongue softly kisses her neck. “Mhmm, I can’t wait to wake up next to you every morning… and hold you every night, my love…” he whispered against her throat, his calloused thumb slowly tracing her chest.

she giggled as his fingers tickled her "it shall be heavenly jacaerys" she cooed tipping his chin up so their eyes met and she wasted no time making their lips met too

He softly closes his eyes and loses himself in her kiss, his arms wrapped around her thin frame as he slowly lays her on her back against the soft silk of his sheets. The kiss was slow yet passionate, deep yet soft just how he liked to kiss her. He pulled away after a few moments, his mouth parted for a second before speaking against her own. “Gods, how I’ve missed your kisses, my love...”

“I have missed far more then just your kisses Jacaerys,” She cooed pulling him down to kiss her once more,

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kimludcom · 11 months ago

Link

SPECIFICATIONSBrand Name: SERENE HILLNeckline: O-NeckActual Images: YesTrain: noneFashion Element: vintageSleeve Style: regularSleeve Length(cm): sleevelessFabric Type: TulleDresses Length: Floor-LengthWaistline: empireOccasion: Formal EveningBuilt-in Bra: Yesis_customized: NoMaterial: POLYESTERSilhouette: A-LINEItem T

#kimlud #kimludcom #Wine Red Long Sleeve Sexy Evening Dresses #dresses #evening gown #fashion #women's clothes

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scatter-snz · 16 days ago

Text

Best Laid Plans - Part 4

Details: 11k, M sneezes, M/M/F🔥

Summary: A secret agent is going undercover for a few days, and his target has a sneeze fetish. He’s in for a long night.

PART 3 - PART 4 -

Me, an aroace individual: (holding the porn I’ve written) is this… sexy?

Haha guysssss I struggled with this one 😭 I’ve never written a threesome before, but all the kind thoughts people have shared about this story encouraged me, seriously 🥹 I love hearing about what you guys enjoyed, so THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 💖 If I haven’t told you personally how much I appreciate it, please know that I do and I revisit your words to give me soul power ✨ I really hope I did this part justice for those inclined to read it!

These are original characters, all in their mid twenties to early thirties!

Warnings: Mess [not graphically described but present], fake contagion [nobody can catch this cold], pleasure from sneezing, humiliation [character is embarrassed about illness/sneezing], exhibition [characters get horny/touch intimately in public], sneezing on someone [accidentally and purposefully], threesome, bdsm vibes, cunnilingus, anal sex, overstimulation, orgasm denial, sneeze denial, lol the sex might be intense guys BUT there’s aftercare!!!

EXPLICIT ALERT:

The sex is safe, sane, and consensual from all parties while still respecting the world of deception the characters exist in. Omicron gets worked over pretty good LOL, but everyone has fun and he gets aftercare. If you think the circumstances might bother you, or explicit material isn’t your vibe, please feel empowered to skip the sex!! You won’t miss anything plot relevant. I’ll mark the sex scene clearly with 🔥 emojis so you can skip if desired. This might be overkill, I’m just anxious and want everyone reading to stay comfy and safe ❤️‍🩹

---

Omicron was a punctual man, but he arrived a few minutes late to the venue on purpose.

The Wooden Lantern sat at the top of the tallest structure on the resort campus, situated in what could only be called an observation tower. Every wall was a window showcasing views of the island’s coastline. With the sun slinging low over the water paired with the romantic glow of the restaurant’s interior, it was obvious why reservations spanned over calendar years. Couples leaned close to smile and share plates, knocking knees beneath long tablecloths to the sounds of smooth jazz.

Isn’t it tacky to discuss the parameters of a threesome here?, Omicron thought with an arched brow. He lifted a handkerchief (lended to him by Delta) to dab beneath his nostrils. They’d tried to apply vaseline, then concealer, to ease some of its obnoxious color; of course he’d rubbed it all away minutes after application, teased to distraction by the smell and sensation. Even if Josaline and her husband would appreciate the abysmal state of his nose, he didn’t want to look like a sick, snivelling mess over dinner. He sighed to himself, resigned. Even an ounce of discretion is too much to hope for.

A stop by the host’s podium led to a winding walk through the venue that ended at a spot at the back. The table, he noticed, was a little larger than the rest to accommodate an extra person. It sat against a window for privacy, lit dramatically by the sunset sky and sparkling lamps. A man and a woman sat there — one of them was familiar.

“Nick!” greeted Josaline, in that dark velvet voice of hers.

She rose from her seat with flowing grace, hugged by a glittering black gown, and even Omicron wasn’t immune to the way her hair spilled over her bare shoulders. Her lips were brighter tonight, a classic red, and they brought out the brilliance of her smile. She met him before he reached the table to take his cheeks in her hands and kiss them one after the other. Her smile fell to a pout.

“Ohh, sweetheart, you feel a little warm,” she said. Anita got his temperature down with reducers, but it had yet to break entirely. Josaline’s thumbs rubbed the apples of his cheeks, and just as he predicted, drank in the burgundy hue of his nose. He was uncertain how she’d feel about a fever, so he funneled the anxiety into his performance.

“Yeah, I’b-.. hkkrm!” He turned away to clear his throat when his voice cracked, then slanted a sheepish smile. “I’mb, uh.. ndot at my best. But I didn’d have your ndumber and wasn’t sure if you’d wandt to cancel, and I did really wandt to see you and mbeet your husband- uh-.. so-”

She silenced him with a peck on the lips; her eyes glittered in the lamplight. “It’s alright. We don’t mind as long as you’re feeling well enough to be here. Thank you for coming.”

For someone who was apparently suspicious of Nicolas Foster, Josaline seemed calm and pleased to see him. It set Omicron on edge. Did she have an alternative plan up her sleeve that gave her confidence? Did she simply not care about the risks of spending an evening with someone who might be trying to apprehend her? He didn’t let anything show on his face as she led him to the table, but nearly faltered when he saw who he was about to meet.

“Nicolas, let me introduce you to my husband,” said Josaline, gesturing. “This is Cristoph.”

Cristoph Meyer. Josaline’s nonconcern over his cover made much more sense.

Like her, Cristoph was powerful, well-connected, and capable of squashing any slapdash probing from law enforcement. Unlike her, he was suspected of operating one of the most prolific dark web identity rackets in the world. Josaline had the business and brains, but Cristoph had the means. The fact they were together at all was incriminating, but with their combined clout across facets of society and criminal underworld, it practically guaranteed them immunity from investigation.

It was now imperative that their hack tonight was a success, or else the agency wouldn’t have enough evidence to touch these two with a one-hundred foot pole.

Cristoph stood from his chair, hand extended, with a perfectly polite greeting, “Nicolas. I have heard so much about you.”

He matched his wife in height, her platform heels notwithstanding. Fair hair parted to the side, tidy salt and peppered beard, browline glasses with a tweed suit that evoked a professorial style at odds with the criminal Omicron knew him to be. A little bulky in the torso, thinner in the legs, silhouetted like a martini compared to Josaline’s hurricane glass curves. Together, they defined elegance. Omicron couldn’t help but feel embarrassingly outmatched in his slightly wrinkled suit, clutching a rapidly dampening handkerchief, with a nose glowing brighter than any light in this restaurant.

“Probably mbore thand I’ve heard about you,” he jested. There was an awkward beat where Cristoph’s offer for a handshake remained unmet. “I, uh.. sorry, I don’d kndow if I should shake hands while I’b still sdiffling all over the place..”

Considering what they were going to do tonight, Nicolas’ abundance of caution was silly, if a little charming. The crinkles around Cristoph’s eyes told him so.

“Nonsense,” he said, and when Nicolas finally took his hand, Cristoph cradled it with both of his own. “If it’s not too forward of me to say, I wouldn’t mind catching a cold from a man as lovely as you.”

Nicolas flushed, gaping for words, before finally settling on, “Uh! Well- uh, that’s.. thagnks, that’s a relief!”

Josaline smiled at the two of them, the cat who got the canary, before shepherding Nicolas toward the empty seat. He caught a glimpse of her loaded glance at Cristoph, a smoldering exchange, before she swept to her own chair. And naturally, as soon as they all got settled and ready to chat, Omicron’s needy nose demanded attention. Now you want to sneeze? he griped, tucking the edge of his hanky beneath his nostrils as they indulged in an indolent flare.

It baited him all afternoon, bringing him to the breathless verge of release and then dancing away just before he could finish. In spite of this, he stayed civil. He didn’t meddle, didn’t try to force relief. He heeded his nose meticulously, minding it’s every demand, no matter how much it wanted to mock him. He did all this with the hope it would behave during dinner.

I’m an idiot, he thought ruefully as the tickle struck its baton on a music stand, commanding a collective ripple of sensation through his nose. It snagged his breath, beat by beat, hitch by hitch, as he pressed the handkerchief more securely over his nose and mouth. Of course it’s going to do whatever the hell it wants.

“..h-h-H..-ih’MFZSSh’u!” One was never enough anymore. And thus, an encore. “..hd’MMPHZzsh!” Before he could be grateful for their manageable size, a ticklish crescendo ripped through him and he gasped helplessly, deeply, to bowl over his lap with a much louder, “-eEH’MBFZSSH!”

At a nearby table, a startled fork clinked against a plate. Ambient conversation paused and cautiously continued. Somehow it didn’t occur to Omicron until this moment how clamorous his sneezing would be in a muted space. When he finally opened his eyes, he found two hungry pairs staring back at him from over the table.

Josaline spoke first, the words dripping from her lips. “Bless, Nicolas.”

“Mbbgh,” he replied eloquently, before leaning away from the table to blow his nose as quietly as he possibly could. Unfortunately this did next to nothing and he was left no choice but to sniffle most of it back into his sinuses.

Wrong move. Moisture shifted against alert membranes, and he felt the ramifications all through his nose. The tickle snagged his breath, tugging in, in, in — “.. h-.. hh.. hHT-!” and then it vanished as quickly as it came. In its wake was that awful, unrelieved prickling sensation, lingering like an afterimage.

He sat back up with dewy eyes and half a smile. “Ugh, sorry about thad.” He waved irritably at his face, the red rosy center of it, and tried to make it a joke. “Tricked mbe.”

Josaline laced her hands and rested her chin there, elbows on the table, shadows on her face from flickering candlelight. “Speaking of tricks, before this goes any further there’s something we’d like to get out into the open..”

“We’re aware you are not who you say you are,” Cristoph continued. Despite his directness, he spoke like he might speak of the weather. “Is it safe to assume you came to this resort because of us?”

Omicron wondered if they might take this route. It was certainly the simplest. He’d been prepared to play mind games all night, adding layer upon layer to his cover as the two of them tried to outwit him into revealing something. Assignments like those got complicated fast. Quiet jazz filled the seconds of silence as Omicron analyzed his options and the likelihoods of their best outcomes. In the span of one congested breath, he made his decision.

“Ahh, you got mbe,” he said, with a wincing smile and meek rub beneath his nose. “I kdnew Ms. Jewel would be here, but ndot you.” He looked toward Cristoph. “I’mb shocked you let mbe mbeet you, under the circumstances.”

The man chuckled as he picked up a slice of bread from the table’s communal basket, scooting a plate of olive oil closer to swab it in. “I knew the risks, but Josaline insisted. She claims you’re quite special.”

“And you’re a smart man, Nicolas,” she added, and then bent over the table to give him a playful tap on the nose. “I’m sure you can see that between us, you have your work cut out for you.”

He didn’t have to exaggerate the effect of her touch. With his nose on a hair trigger, just the reminder it was there was enough to stir the tickle. Omicron blinked against it, bewitched, as it fluffed up like a startled animal. Knuckling his septum didn’t quite dispel the feeling.

“Youhh’ve g-..” Here he paused, nostrils trembling wide, before they reluctantly relaxed again. He sniffed hard, and the sound was hopelessly stunted. “... ndgh, got mbe there too.”

Cristoph watched them as he took a bite of his bread, savoring it before he swallowed. “I will be candid, so please take me at my word.” He fetched the napkin from his lap to wipe the crumbs and oil off his fingers.

“We do not care who you work for, or why you came to this resort. What we do care about is having an enchanting evening with you. Would you be open to setting all other motives aside for the sake of a wonderful time?”

Interesting, Omicron mused. He digested the honesty in their expressions. It would be a relief to avoid juggling advanced psychological warfare with a fuzzy head and nose. Under his new directive he wasn’t expected to extract an ounce of information — he only had to keep them occupied and ensure they didn’t catch on. Easy enough, but agreeing too quickly would attract suspicion.

Nicolas lowered his eyes with a stuffy chuckle, fidgeting with the edge of his bundled silverware. “I, uh.. I don’d thigk that’ll go over well ond mby end.”

“You’ll be returning to your employers empty-handed either way,” Josaline said. He jumped when he felt her foot slide up the side of his leg. “Why not go with a good memory?”

He pretended to give it some thought, but the furrow in his brow deepened when his sinuses twinged. They’d once again grown intolerant of his galvanizing cold. Omicron wrinkled his nose and got his hand halfway to his face when his lungs seized. The sneeze snapped his head down, aimed uncovered at the table and entirely unmuffled.

“-iihPZSSHuu-!..oh, HH-!” He couldn’t even convey his surprise, it came over him so fast. It felt like the inside of his nose was squirming, desperate to get away from the unyielding sensation of something tickling it. “-ht’TZSsh!.. huh.. HD’IZZSshoo!”

He caught the next two against his wrist, uncertain of where his handkerchief was and too sneeze-brained to open his eyes and find it. The usual size wasn’t cutting it, so it was ‘go big or go home’ time. Soft sounds snuck out of him, feeble with desire, each a little higher pitched than the last.

“..uh.. huh... iihh-!”

He could feel it mounting, feel his nose throbbing with want of it, feel the way his body waited for the tickle to overwhelm him completely before he finally jolted into the cup of his hands.

“HIDJZZSSHOO!!-ohhh..”

That got it. Omicron snuffled muzzily in the tingling aftermath. A few wet blinks cleared his vision, and there was Cristoph holding out not Delta’s weatherbeaten handkerchief, but his own. It was covered with fleur-de-lis, monogrammed with his initials. Omicron took it with a hushed thanks and wasted no time treating himself to a long, gurgling blow. The reproachful stares of other patrons, including some waitstaff, seared into him. Even if this was all for the mission, it was still fucking embarrassing. Omicron funneled his mortification back into Nicolas.

“Jeez, sorry about that,” he huffed under his breath, clutching the patterned hanky in both hands. His cheeks burned. “They snuck up on me.”

A soft touch beneath his chin coaxed his gaze to Josaline. Her voice was liquid silk, pouring over him just like the tresses of her hair when they’d kissed behind her sunhat. “Baby, there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

He lurked a glance toward a pair of middle-aged women a few tables over that were whispering and glaring in his direction. “... but this is such a classy place, and the other people who-”

“Fuck them,” Cristoph said bluntly, and moved his chair to block the ladies from view. Then he gave Nicolas a disarming smile. “You’re here for us.”

So he was, and dinner proceeded to that end.

Josaline and Cristoph were in no hurry. The group split appetizers, sampling one of every dish, before ordering a family-style main course with the intent to share plates. His cold and mild fever wore him down over time; at their encouragement, he surrendered to his symptoms and let himself be as noisy as he needed to. The fact he wasn’t actually contagious eased his guilt, but not his self-consciousness. His only solace was that in dining with two very powerful people, no one dared approach the table to complain about him.

Conversation revolved around boundaries, expectations, safe words, and preferences. It was obvious by the way they talked that the couple enjoyed this sort of thing — planning an erotic evening together to take a third person apart. It also convinced Omicron that despite their rampant cybercrimes against the public, they were exemplary and experienced practitioners. That dispelled any lingering doubt he had about tonight, and by the time they got to dessert, the three of them had cultivated a rapport.

Omicron was blinking sleepily at the elegant menu lettering, mulling over the merits of ordering gelato on the criminals’ dime, when Cristoph brushed elbows with him. He glanced up to find the man closer than he expected, wearing a wolfish smirk.

“So, Josaline tells me you have a unique talent, but I do not believe her,” he said, drinking in Nicolas’ delicate features before his gaze stopped squarely on his nose. It stood out in crimson contrast to the rest of his face and twitched under the scrutiny. “I would like to try it for myself.”

It took a few seconds for the implications of that to break through Omicron’s fever haze, but once it did, his gut swooped. He wants to make me sneeze in front of this entire restaurant.

“Here..?” he asked, eyes darting to other tables. “Now?”

Josaline clucked her tongue at her husband with a smack to his arm. “Cris, you’re incorrigible.”

Recollections of yesterday’s poolside humiliation flashed through his mind. No doubt this ensuing fit would be as bad or worse. Omicron had carefully avoided any ‘suggestive’ mental images leading up to the date to stay clear-headed; walking into this restaurant with half a boner would have been foolish.

“Not if you’re uncomfortable, of course,” Cristoph assured him, looking between his wife and their shared paramour. Omicron could tell he was genuine when he added, “I won’t pressure you.”

Omicron was unprepared yesterday when he stumbled nose-first into a lucky outcome at the pool, but tonight was different. He knew what he was here to do, what the situation required of him, and he knew he wasn’t alone; Delta and Dr. Voster were working hard behind the scenes to support him. They all had their part to play.

It’s showtime, he thought, and sniffled with a shy little smile. His nostrils flared, just once. He’s going to regret asking for this before we get to the room.

“Actually..” Nicolas lifted a finger to his nose and gave it a priming rub, back and forth beneath his chapped septum. His nostrils pulsed with an unsteady warning. “I wouldn’d mbind. Mbight give mbe someb relief.”

That wasn’t a lie in the slightest. Both of them saw first hand how tireless the torture really was. Even right this second Omicron could feel faint, idle irritation like a channel stuck on permanent static. It would make him sneeze eventually, whether he had help or not. Cristoph gave the room a cursory scan, probably assessing the likelihood of a waiter walking up on them.

“You will let me know if you’d like me to stop?”

“Of course,” Nicolas replied. A hand grazed his knee and he found Josaline, doe-eyed, close on his other side. Her eyes asked the same question, to which he nodded in reply.

The two shared a look, and their smiles darkened. Nicolas swallowed.

“From the way she described it, you can be influenced by psychosomatic suggestions, yes?” Cristoph murmured, his voice accompanied by the underlay of soft jazz. “Let me see now..”

He glanced around for inspiration and found it on the table with a sound of delight. Omicron followed his gaze: a small, lit candle.

“I suppose it might feel like this tiny flame,” he began. “Glowing deep in your nose. An urge in its infancy. Too weak to give you relief, but too strong to snuff out. So subtle you aren’t even sure it’s there.”

The image filled his mind and the tickle took form — a painless speck of light hovering in his sinuses. It was a less tangible feeling than usual, ghostly and almost as if he’d imagined it. Omicron wrinkled his nose with a stunted sniff, blinking repeatedly.

“Ah, yes. It tickles a little doesn’t it?” Cristoph continued. “Negligible at first, just an annoyance on your periphery. But given time, even something this small takes its toll.”

Omicron sniffled again and again, then tried to lift his hand to rub the edge off his itch. Josaline caught him smoothly, twining her fingers with his as her other hand glided over his thigh. Without relief, his expression pinched. Cristoph tsked at him.

“Ohh, poor boy. When you sniffle it only goads the flame. Makes it flicker. Makes it bigger.”

His words sunk into Omicron, luring him down into a trance until it’s all he could hear, think, or feel. With each breath the light grew, guttering against nerves worn raw by ceaseless, maddening stimulation. They seemed to recoil from the tickle when it flared, futile as it was — soon there would be no avoiding it. Each time he blinked, his eyes were slower to open again.

“Mm, it looks like that adorable nose of yours is getting upset. Your nostrils are twitching. They’re so red and sore that I can only imagine what the inside looks like.”

The observations would have flustered Omicron if he’d been in a mind to process it. As it was, all he could focus on was the swelling flame of this tickle. It lulled his eyes shut, parted his lips, tilted his brows in hope as it spread like molasses wildfire. Ponderous. Intensifying. Each time the tickle wavered, licking against an ever increasing surface area, he felt a similar, encroaching ache of pleasure ooze through his gut.

Josaline’s hand crept over the tent in his pants. He flinched, and a breathy moan tumbled out of him.

“You like this,” purred Crisoph, barely a whisper as his words melted through Omicron like softening butter. “And it will feel so good to let go, won’t it? You are in luck because that tickle isn’t going anywhere. It just grows and grows.”

Cristoph had no idea how true that was. Ever since Anita sprayed this cold up his nose, he’d lived on the edge of a sneeze. When he finally recovered, he wouldn’t miss the permanent little niggle that stirred his sinuses to anarchy. He would, however, miss the way the tingle in his nose echoed in his groin. Omicron hitched in a knife’s-edge breath, and let it go on a soft, stuffy sigh.

“Tell me how it feels,” the voice commanded. Omicron bit his lip as pressure increased against his hardening erection in one long, continuous line down the shaft. He strived to comply.

“..feels..h-hhh-..” A shivering inhale preceded a shuddering exhale, punctuated with a sniffle. “..huhh.. like mby dose iihss..h-hH!..hoo, whed I breathe, every t.. t-hhime it’s ti.. it’s t…HHH!” A pause, then the rest delivered on a defeated breath as he slumped against his chair. “-huhhhhit’s ticklig mbe..”

Josaline’s hand inched down his cock. Omicron, eyes cinched closed, nostrils flaring so hard he could feel them stretch, tried to arch into the touch. An iron grip pressed his thighs firmly to the chair.

“That tickle is written into every line on your face.” Fingers found the bridge of his nose and traced down to the twitching tip. “Agony.” The lightest touch circled the diameter of each spasming nare. “And ecstasy.”

A twinge raced down Omicron’s nasal cavity. A tear squeezed through his lashes. Oh, it was close. He could feel the urge becoming critical, nerves stimulated to a burning frenzy.

“.. Nicolas, I can see that it’s making you want to..”

Omicron heaved in a preparatory hitch and lost it in a frustrated groan. “-hUH-!..ngghh..”

“.. that you need to..”

Another surge of tickling coated his membranes like a hot, prickling blanket. He filled - “h-hhHH!” - and emptied - “..HUHhhh..” - his chest with another heaving breath.

“.. that undoubtedly you’re going to..”

The depth of his gasp came as a surprise, rolling through him as an entire body sensation that began in his nose and ended in his dick. When his lungs bottomed out and didn’t empty, the corners of his mouth tugged with the hint of a smile.

“-hhHHHHH..”

“Sneeze.”

“-EEHHDZZSSSCHYOOO-!!”

It crashed out of him like a calamity, uncovered and inexcusably loud. Omicron didn’t care. Felt so fucking good to sneeze that he couldn’t spare a thought for anything but the exquisite ache at his core. It would have taken his breath away, if the next sneeze hadn’t already.

“-HIH’YIIZSSSHHOOO-!!”

There was a small percentage of his brain power devoted to public decency, and it was this shred of awareness that kept him from moaning aloud as a powerful burst of arousal shot through him. Like a boomerang, what little relief the sneeze granted him came winging right back in a rush of furious, nose scrunching tickles.

“HEH-.. HEHSSSHUHhh-!!”

Omicron jerked his head down, sneezing clumsily over his lap, and clenched his thighs together when his dick twitched in reply. He gritted his teeth against any noises trying to escape, fastening his hands to the bottom of his chair to ride it out because it.. it-

“-H’JZZSSSCHhh!uhh..” Fuck it just kept coming. He sniffled wildly, his nose streaming, and flinched with an itch that billowed up from his nostrils to his sinuses. Omicron threw himself forward. “-BZZSSSHOO!.. hhP’BZSSHYOO!!..”

Each one caused him to crunch in his seat, hunching lower and lower toward the table, until someone pressed a hand to his sternum to push him upright. Omicron couldn’t even open his eyes to see who it was. His chest pressed into their touch with staggering hitches that slammed into a herculean sneeze.

“..iih-hhH-HHH-HD’DIHZZSSSCH!-hahh!”

He couldn’t quite muscle down the moaning punch of pleasure. While not very loud, it sent ice down Omicron’s spine and he whisked a fist beneath wet, widespread nostrils. His other hand scrabbled blindly on the tablecloth for any shred of fabric he could utilize. In vain, he tried to speak.

“-hhah..” He pressed the edge of his hand harder to his septum as the pressure swelled. “..hhhangk.. KIZSSCH!... hH’KZZSSCH’UH!”

The dismay at drenching his hand was outweighed by the savory zap through his veins. His erection ached for friction, and Omicron couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing that Josaline had stopped stroking him. He snorted, or rather tried to, but was met with a cemented clog. The strain made him cough, and then in a haze of dread, start to sneeze. It filled the spaces the congestion couldn’t, throbbing with a tickle so urgent he couldn’t have fought it off at gunpoint.

“-oh shihH-.. hH-H’PPZSSSCHH’IYA!”

It was a disaster of a sneeze, with consequences that left him in dire need of a tissue. Someone gently pried his fist from his face and cupped something crisp and fresh over his nose — a promise of relief. He didn’t think about it; he blew his nose immediately and as thoroughly as possible.

It took four big breaths before he ran dry, and a singular, jolting “-ihg’KSSHU!” that added insult to injury. Only then, in the panting aftermath, did it register to Omicron what he’d done. He froze.

Oh god, he thought, mortified. The fire was gone from his nose, now dwelling in his cheeks, neck, and ears. I just blew my nose into somebody else’s hand.

He forced himself into a teary squint to assess the damage. Cristoph was gone, his seat vacant. The restaurant was dead silent. Omicron did himself a favor and kept his head down, absurdly grateful his back was to the room. A rustle of cloth against his nostrils caught him off guard.

“Bless you, Nick,” sighed Josaline. The sultry tilt to her tone reassured Omicron a tiny bit.

She was still beside him, gently tending to his nose with an unused edge of what he realized was yet another new handkerchief. The idea the couple brought extras for him was almost as embarrassing as his sneezing fit. He let her do it, still numb, before managing a croaky whisper.

“I-.. jeez, Josaline, I’m-”

“I hope what you are about to say is not ‘sorry,’ darling,” she whispered back, giving his nostrils a careful upsweep with the hanky. He scrunched his expression when it stung and she tutted in sympathy. “I enjoy this, just as I have enjoyed every moment of this evening thus far.”

“But..” Omicron couldn’t bring himself to look behind him, even as the ambience of the restaurant gradually resumed. “Is Cristoph… did I upset him?”

“Not at all,” she assured. Her warm smile verged toward wicked. “He’s just very eager to pay the check.”

Omicron sat there mulling it over, staring sightlessly at the open dessert menu laying forgotten on his plate. His mind was sluggish with fever, his heart still hammering from the humiliation of causing such a ruckus. Ludicrously resilient, his dick remained erect. And somehow, after all that, his nose still had the audacity to tickle. It came over him swiftly — a couple blinks, a flare of his nostrils, a quiet huffing inhale. Then-

“..ih-TSSHuh!” In spite of its size, he still shook in place. Josaline pressed close to breathe a blessing against his temple. Her teeth found his earlobe after that, a sharp enough sensation that it banished the nebulous itch of another waiting sneeze.

She looped her arm around his, tugging him up from his seat onto unsteady feet. “Come along.”

He felt like he was three steps behind her when he asked, “What about dessert?”

“Oh, darling,” she chuckled, and ducked in to nuzzle her nose to his. “We’re getting it to go.”

+ 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 +

As I suspected, Omicron mused as he felt a warm, slick digit tease his rim. I’m the dessert.

The trip back to the couple’s top-floor suite was a steamy blur smeared with wet lips, wandering hands, and an unsuspecting tourist who had the misfortune of waiting for the elevator when the doors opened. After stumbling into the suite, Josaline unzipped her dress to unveil stark lines of lingerie filigreed over her skin, and while still wearing her T-strap peep-toe platforms, disrobed Nicolas like she was unwrapping a gift.

Cristoph wasn’t far behind, striding into the room with an air of impatience that dissipated once he joined them on the bed. It didn’t take long for the evening’s plan to unfold. He allowed them to arrange him as they wanted, pliant in their arms, amenable to their requests, a little shivery when his bare skin touched silken sheets.

The finger breached him, and Omicron knew for certain now that his symptom relievers were wearing off. Fevers made him sensitive; even that small intrusion was seismic, yanking a whimper from him before he could stop it.

Cristoph paused. “Is this okay?”

They checked on him often, and while the vigilance was reassuring, Omicron had to repress his reflexive annoyance. He wasn’t a particularly amorous person, but he was very competent in bed. He approached it with the same gravity as he would with any other aspect of his job, and it irked him that he wasn’t capable of his best performance tonight. As a result, they were treating him with the delicacy of spun sugar glass.

This is what I get for roleplaying a persona with virgin energy, Omicron sourly deduced. Not to mention I look like a stiff breeze could knock me over. Stupid, debilitating, super virus from hell.

Nicolas nodded where he lay belly down with his head resting on Josaline’s pillowy chest, snuffling as quietly as he could. “Y-Yeah, just surprised mbe. Didn’t hurt.”

It took a moment for the man to continue, long enough that Omicron nearly reached back there to help him along. His erection from dinner had yet to fade, as constant as the itch in his nose. Between Cristoph’s glacial-pace prepping, Josaline’s occasional arching pressure against his crotch, and his intermittent, uncontrollable sneezing, it was no wonder. Speaking of which..

He dragged in a gurgling sniffle, one that vibrated enticingly against pleading nerves, and his eyelids fluttered closed. As best he could, he used his elbows for leverage and whipped his head to one side. “..H!heh..h’DZSSHuh!”

By Josaline’s mandate, Nicolas wasn’t allowed anything for his nose — no tissues, no handkerchiefs, no hands. When he’d stammered out the question of what he was supposed to do if he needed one of those things, she’d bestowed on him a smile worthy of an heiress and said she was confident he’d ‘figure it out.’ What he figured out was that she was goading him into sneezing on her and that he was far too embarrassed to do so. He kept his head turned away as his breath jagged again.

“..iyeh-.. iih’KIHSSH’u!”

Rather than punish him with a single, prodigious sneeze, the tickle strung him along with several smaller ones. It reminded him of a disgruntled customer ringing a reception desk bell deep in his nose; they waited just long enough to give the illusion that they’d given up before.. DING!

He felt its call keenly, a request for service that he was helpless to deny. Omicron aimed for the blankets - “het’TEHZSHiew!!-mmgg..” - and trembled in the tingling aftermath.

In lieu of a blessing, Josaline caressed Omicron’s flushed cheek. Each time he sneezed his muscles clenched, and it wasn’t doing Cristoph any favors as he worked on loosening Nicolas up for a second finger. It was an absolute miracle the two of them found this arousing because Omicron felt like a limp rag for all that he was contributing to the process. He should probably make an effort here.

Snuffling up the aftermath of his last sneeze, he shifted his knees to push against Cristoph’s intrusion. The man’s hands were thick, wide-knuckled, and long. Perfect for fingering, even if he was being incredibly slow about it. At the risk of slipping his cover, Omicron cast aside the shrinking violet act to insist, “I can take adother.”

“Oh, can you?” mused Crisoph. He pumped his finger in and out, inch by agonizing inch. “Care to ask nicely?”

So, he was being slow on purpose. And now he wanted the magic word? It was a testament to Omicron’s exemplary professionalism that Nicolas was able to muster a polite reply. “.. Mbay I have adother? Please?”

After a hum of approval, another slippery finger entered him — a split-second icy burn that heated into gut-clenching delight. A stuffy sigh fell from his lips, gusting across Josaline’s chest as she stroked her thumb up the bridge of his nose. Her voice was liquid gold when she purred in his ear.

“What a good boy.”

Pressed prone against her thighs, his dick twitched. Hard. Fuck.

She grinned and dipped to kiss him, soft and sweet, teasing out congested sighs that she muffled with her tongue. He lost himself to her, and soon two fingers became three. He snuffled clumsily when he felt the stretch, panting against her lips as he rolled his pelvis for friction. Then Cristoph crooked them to graze the spot that struck sparks behind Omicron’s eyelids. He moaned into Josaline’s mouth. “MMBgghh-!”

“There we go,” Cristoph growled behind him. He arranged his fingers and presssssssed. “How does that feel, beautiful?”

Hopefully the fact Omicron couldn’t formulate a reply spoke for itself. All he could do was whimper and squirm against Josaline, kiss her senseless, and chase his pleasure with every rock of his hips. Momentum mounted, heat accumulated, his thoughts quieted to nothing but more, more, more.

And deep in his nose, the bell rang.

Omicron snapped his eyes open just in time to close them again. It overwhelmed him instantly — a singular, ticklish sweep down the length of his nasal cavity. Nostrils widening, jaw dropping, he only had time to rip away from her lips and jerk his chin down.

“-eh’GZISSSHoo!”

It was just the one, but that was plenty.

Warm aerosol misted her bare chest. Cristoph’s fingers pulled away. Josaline gasped. Any pleasure he felt from the act shriveled when panic seized him. Before he could gather himself for a profuse apology, she had him by the hair. Kissed the shame from his lips. Fetched a tissue from a box waiting on the nightstand. She wiped his nose for him, then commanded him to blow. He didn’t dare defy her.

After that he found himself face first in the valley of her long, smooth legs. Josaline snaked a hand down her waist to unhook the side of her thong and peel it away. Her vulva, like the rest of her, was groomed with exacting precision. The dark curls were trimmed to frame her glistening lips, swollen and open to him like a flower. She didn’t need to explain what she wanted.

Obediently he lowered his head, guided by her hand, and glanced up at her through his lashes when he nibbled the inside of her thigh. Parting his lips helped with his lingering congestion, and he knew from experience the delectable sensation of hot breath gusting across wet skin. Josaline may not have minded (enjoyed..) him sneezing carelessly on her boobs, but he’d rather give her some top quality oral. He had it on good authority that his technique was solid, coveted even, among those he’d pleasured. Thus it was with confidence that Omicron resolved to blow her mind, his cold be damned.

Until he nuzzled into her curls and was slapped across the face with a familiar scent. Josaline saw him hesitate, and he watched in real time as her vulva undulated with anticipation.

“I’m surprised you can smell it,” she murmured, setting her heels against the mattress and arching just enough to skim the tip of his nose with her burning seam. Her words were a wanton sigh. “My gift for you.”

It surprised him too. This was a testament to the power of her perfume that it could penetrate days’ worth of swelling and congestion. Even at this proximity, his eyes began to water. The tickle stretched like a lazy cat twitching its tail, on the verge of getting restless. His nostrils pulsed in unhappy reply. There was absolutely no way he’d manage this with any degree of finesse.

Josaline had to know that, and she confirmed it when she told him, “Sneeze as much as your nose desires. As many times as you want, as hard as you want, but do not forget what you’re down there to do.”

The way she tightened her fingers in his hair told him he wouldn’t be lifting his head until she finished. Her vulva flexed again, inviting him in. Omicron allowed himself two steadying breaths before sealing his fate. He ducked down to her swollen folds and skimmed the tip of his tongue up her seam. The way she moaned, low and guttural as her head fell back against the pillows, was promising. He got to work.

Oral was a delicate process, but Omicron let experience lead him. Lick with the flat of his tongue; delve into the core of her for a taste; circle her clit with the tip before tracing the lines of her lips. When her folds fluttered around him, expectant and needy, he doubled down on the techniques she liked. He breathed only through his mouth, kept his nose away from her short hair, and did his best to ignore the way his nostrils flared with increasing frequency. Occasionally the tickle fidgeted, disturbed in slumber, and he sipped in a little gasp. Willpower alone helped him sigh down from the tempting high, each time letting his breath pass over her wet folds to hear her mewl.

She was gripping him hard now, fingers kneading, thighs shaking, breathing heavy. Omicron smirked against her, tongue in her hole, the bridge of his nose barely grazing the edge of her clit, licking against her soft, pulsating walls with the intention of dragging this out until she made him pay for it. That is, until he felt something hot and slick press up against his ass.

In his concentration, he’d missed a couple telling sounds: the rip of a wrapper, followed by the elastic squeak of a lubed condom. Cristoph apparently wouldn’t be sitting idly by while Josaline had all the fun. Omicron had no issue with this, but what he did mind was the ramifications of the surprise.

At the feeling of a cock against his crack, Omicron gasped. With his tongue deep in Josaline, he did this instinctively through his nose and dragged a billowing cloud of perfume into his sinuses. The tickle woke from its fitful sleep and, as expected, flew into an irrational rage. It was a brutal itch, assaulting his tortured membranes with a storm of demanding, sparking sensation.

Omicron couldn’t get a breath in, let alone jerk away from Josaline, before the first sneeze tripped out of him. “-PBBTHHhsht!!”

It was the least sexy noise he’d ever made, delivered messily into Josaline’s gleaming folds, but nevertheless she arched into his face with a high, breathy whine. Omicron sniffled reflexively and got a noseful of curls and that infernal, floral scent. His eyes rolled back as he hitched, his head ratcheting by increments and nostrils spasming with distress. The tickle hadn’t diminished at all; it remained an unrelenting, dominating force in his nose down to the deepest reaches.

“-MMBSSshh!” He muffled it into her vulva, feeling the way it contracted in reply, hearing how she cried out, and it was fortunate she liked this because he couldn’t do much more than hold onto her thighs and, “-MPHzssh!.. hk-MPHSshh!!”

Josaline’s hips left the bed, her hands forcing his face more secure to her. She was thrusting in earnest now, so Omicron did his best to slip his tongue inside her and meet her rhythm. Each time they pressed together, he angled himself so that his nose would rub against her engorged clit. Each time he eased back, his ass nudged more firmly against Crisoph’s firm cock. Pleasure skittered through him from both ends, sensations warring for control.

On top of all that, the tickle reigned terror. It led an army of irritation through his nasal passages, running roughshod over his worn membranes while they quaked with stimulation. His nose didn’t know what to do with this other than sneeze. The cloying perfume was all he could smell, overpowering even the scent of Josaline’s pleasure.

“-nggshh!.. hh-HGZssh!!huh-hhGXSssh!”

There was a stuttering anguish to them in the wake of his body’s confusion. Why isn’t this working? his nose cried out. Please, it tickles so much. Makes us have to-

“-ihgGXZSSHT!!”

It was the closest to a stifle he’d ever come, and it scraped out of him with such misery that he decided he couldn’t do that again. Nor could he muscle through another second of this fragrance. Omicron leaned back with a weak huHH! and tried to aim where Josaline needed him most-

“-hH’EHDSSH!.. h-HA’JZSSHEE!” Oh that was better- “hhHHH’CHZZSSSHHOOO! Fhhuck-!”

The physical recoil of that last sneeze popped Cristoph past his rim. Jeeeeeezus, he was thick. Omicron hadn’t caught sight of his penis, but he could feel the girth as it pushed into him, slick with lube. His toes curled with the stretch.

“Mmmmm, god you’re tight,” Cristoph groaned, holding onto Omicron’s hips and shaking with the strain of staying still as the smaller man adjusted. “And so damn hot..”

It was difficult to know if he meant aesthetically, or physiologically. Omicron could feel his fever thrumming through every molecule, heightening sensations, fogging his head, beading sweat along his hairline even as he shivered from intermittent chills. Lost in the feeling of being filled, he almost forgot about Josaline. She was kind enough to remind him by yanking him back down flush with her quivering hole. Given the rough handling, they’d probably realized he was more experienced than he let on. He grinned as he shoved his tongue in, lapping up her juices and moving up to lavish her abandoned clitoris with long, flat licks.

His nose, not to be outdone by either of his partners, reminded him of the scent he’d spent the last few minutes sucking into his sinuses. Breathing through his mouth did him no favors now that the damage was done. He got a second’s notice of buildup before the tickle waged war.

“-eh’KSSH!.. hK’IISShh!” They toppled over one another in their hurry to escape his convulsing nostrils, his trembling lips, his shuddering chest. “-eHTSSH!-h’IKSH-.. kshh!- h..HIHkshh-! HEH.. KZZSHHOO!”

He’d never sneezed like this in his life. His nose was frantic with them, and not a single one relieved an iota of irritation. Tears broke their water-lines and painted his cheeks. His nose dripped freely. Each sneeze made him clench around Cristoph, who groaned in reply, and he showered Josaline’s spasming, wet core with a regularity she audibly appreciated. She wouldn’t let go of his hair, keeping him where she wanted him.

“-H’KSsh!-eh’SH!-.. hohhbygoh’DZZSH!-hahh..” This wasn’t going to stop until she came, so- “CHZsh- ehCSH!..h-HH’GZsh!!” -he needed to hurry up and- “TZSsshoo!- fugk-” -do something about it.

Omicron buried himself into her, tongue flicking like mad against her clit, swirling and wiggling and licking as fast as he could manage as her moans hitched to higher and higher pitches. Sneezing with his tongue occupied seemed hazardous, but when the first “eHPTTHHeh!” burst from him with no issue, he let the rest come as they pleased. One, two, four, eight, compounding on themselves so that when the ninth lagged behind with a shivery gasp, Omicron dove to suck her clit between his lips.

Josaline bent over him with a shout, nails scratching his scalp as she was struck with powerful, rhythmic contractions. Omicron polished her off with one last lick, loathe that he couldn’t tongue her through the aftershocks, but-

“-HAHZZSSHHOOO!!”

His nose was pretty angry with him. He panted into the aftermath before roaring another huge, ab-clenching sneeze between her legs. “HEEHHSSSHHOO!.. ugh, huhh..ht!DZZSHHHYOO!”

They exploded from him with such force that he squeezed Cristoph mercilessly. The man leaned over, his huffing chest to Omicron’s heaving back, and reached a hand around to Omicron’s neglected cock. It was so hard it ached, beading precum every time he sneezed. He gasped to the brink of one, and then lost it to a whine when Cristoph’s thumb circled over the tip. Fuck fuck fuck-

“I’b godda-” he choked out, hoarse and out of breath. Cristoph seated himself to the hilt, deep. The tickle writhed in him, deeper. Omicron gasped out a hitchy, “Ghhodda c.. cumb-! uhh-h-HHT-”

“Not yet,” Cristoph grunted, and looped his finger and thumb just beneath Omicron’s cockhead. Then squeezed.

Omicron knew about this type of edging, but had never been on the receiving end. The towering wave of his orgasm hung over him.. and then receded. As did the hovering threat of his sneeze. Both sensations spiraled into nothing, the most unsatisfying thing he’d ever felt, and Omicron shocked himself when he pounded a fist against the bed.

To be fair, they talked about this technique at dinner and declared it fair game for the evening. Foolishly, Omicron didn’t think he’d mind it in bed. It was an unexpected discovery for him to realize he did.

He whipped a glare over his shoulder, and his face — the freshly falling tears, the fever flush, the uninhibited mess leaking from his nose, his furious scowl — did something to Cristoph. He tensed and fell unexpectedly into his orgasm, so unprepared he yelped. Omicron could feel the man’s dick twitching in his hole, but because he was pissed off, he did absolutely nothing to help it along. Just wiped his face on the blankets until Cristoph went boneless on top of him.

On a better day Omicron would have shouldered the weight no problem, but pleasure and fever made him weak. He floundered, his dick still hard and trapped uncomfortably beneath him, before mustering a stuffy sound of protest.

Cristoph pulled out with a shudder and moments later there were hands on him, scooping him up, cradling him, and Omicron refused to look at anything other than the bedspread. He was angry about the denial, embarrassed by his anger, exhausted and feeling frustratingly fragile as new tears bubbled at the corner of his eyes.

“God, you’re cute when you pout,” Cristoph groaned, burying his face into Omicron’s neck to suck apologetic kisses into his skin. “I’m sorry, love. Had to be done. Wanna see your face when you cum.”

“Let us spoil you rotten,” Josaline crooned, recovered from her orgasm and swooping down to smooth sweaty hair away from his forehead. “After all, you’ve been such a good boy.”

His dick twitched and Omicron bit his lip on a whine. He wanted relief, he needed it, but when he tried to grab himself he was stopped by Josaline’s wrangling hands. The words burst out of him, “Fuck, please, I- I- ndeed to-”

“Shhhhh,” she soothed, kissing the pleas into silence as Cristoph’s big, firm hand came around to grip Omicron at the base. He arched, whimpering, and she ran her tongue along his lips before leaning back. “Listen to me, Nick.”

He laid against Cristoph’s chest, dazed, blinking through sticky eyelashes as the man warmed a handful of lube and applied it to Omicron’s straining erection. Omicron hissed, bucking into the slide, trying in vain to get himself off when he had so little energy. He shook with the effort until he was hushed by his bed partners. They rearranged themselves to settle a shivering Omicron against the soft mountain of pillows at the head of the bed, the other two by his side. Josaline drenched her hands in lube as well, speaking as she warmed it up.

“Relax,” she told him. “Close your eyes.” He complied. “Focus on what you feel.”

First it was just Cristoph’s hand lazily stroking his dick, too slow and light to get him anywhere. Then it was Josaline spreading his legs to sit between them, gliding her touch along his knee, his thigh, until she moved to his empty hole. One finger slipped in, joined by another, and she beckoned his prostate with gentle rubs. He gasped through his nose and mouth, dragging just enough air through his congestion that it kindled the tickle.

After that aborted sneeze, it had sulked in his sinuses for a while. Always present, but for a time immaterial. Just a reminder of something stuck and waiting. His breath emboldened it.

Omicron’s nostrils twitched, alert to the urges that dwelled within, and Josaline must have seen it because her next words were, “Oh? Got a tickle?”

Always, he thought, but nodded nonetheless. Another tremor from the tickle, and a reflexive twinge of his nose. Someone would probably stop him if he used his hands to rub it, so he turned his head to chafe the ailing appendage against Cristoph’s shoulder. The man denied his orgasm so he deserved it; judging from his hum, however, he didn’t mind.

“I know it’s itchy, sweetheart, but let it come,” Josaline tutted. When he lifted his head he felt the pad of her thumb brush the raw skin of his septum. Her other hand never paused, petting a steady rhythm that she matched to Cristoph’s measured strokes. “Deep breath now..”

Omicron tried to obey, but the effort just made him cough. His membranes were so swollen they throbbed, and the tickle twisted against them with intensifying tenacity. He hiccuped a gasp, sighed it out on a moan, and fidgeted when his other urges escalated as well. Josaline and Cristoph picked up the pace and pressure in harmony.

“What a cold you’ve caught, you poor thing,” whispered Josaline in a honey-soaked voice, “You’re so congested. I bet that sneeze would like some help. It’s gotten stuck so deep in your nose, and there’s not much it can do, is there?”

No, and there wasn’t much Omicron could do either — except ride the electrifying waves of sensation circuiting through his penis, prostate, and sinuses. He was at the mercy of all three of them.

“Do you feel it inside you? Locked away somewhere and struggling. Probably searching for an escape.”

Her suggestions entered him, crawling and prickling as they went. He could see it, this imaginary force that fanned out into feathery tendrils to search the depths of his nose. First it was heedless of the way it lit up his neurons with need. It wasn’t long before it realized its power however, and the irritation was no longer incidental. It was intentional.

“Yes, that’s right. It will do what it does best and stimulate those susceptible nerves of yours. They must be terribly sensitive. To have something squirming against them at this juncture, I’m sure it’s torture.”

Oh, it was. Hellbent on whipping his nose into hysteria, the tickle was relentless and targeted. The sinuous threads continued to spool, probing his membranes, brushing down his nerve pathways, slowly invading him. Nothing was safe, not his sinuses, not the shores of his nostrils, not anything in between. Omicron turned his head one way and then the other as if he could evade the tickle’s probing touch. The hands around him and inside him responded by shifting up another gear.

“Soon it won’t matter how stuffy you are. This tickle will taunt and tease you, caress those sensitive places only it can reach, entice you and remind you that it will feel oh so wonderful to sneeze until you’re desperate for it.”

Please, he pleaded with himself as he snorted and coughed. Please please sneeze. He could feel each individual tendril dragging against his walls, the stirrings of them deep inside him as they coalesced into an urge looming over him alongside his impending orgasm. He gasped, sighed, gasped again-!, groaned. Arched against the cool, sweat-sheened chest behind him. Dug his heels into the mattress. His head was spinning, nose twitching, on the edge of something enormous.

“Once it starts, you cannot resist. The way you hitch and moan. The way your nostrils pulse with uncertainty and your expression pinches with desire. You ache for it. Crave it. This elusive release.”

Again, the pulsating trio of stimuli doubled speed. The hand on his dick jerked him fast and sloppy. The fingers inside him bore down and swirled. The ticklish threads writhed in his nose, creating waves of irresistible feeling. Soft, yearning hitches became heaving gasps he couldn’t let go of. He felt the scales tip, the first toppling domino, a pleasurable chain reaction with an unavoidable end.

“Your body can only take so much, and I can see you’re at your limit.”

Omicron could only assume he looked wrecked, fucked out, fever-flushed, and splotched with fluids. He strained into their touches and into the unstoppable tickle as they sent him hurtling headfirst into release. It couldn’t come fast enough. Lungs inflated to the brim, throat blocked by waiting air, he couldn’t even beg. Couldn’t think of the words to do so. Could only tremble on the brink with a tiny, broken whimper.

It’s coming, it’s coming I’m-

And then - “Go ahead, my darling. Let it all out.”

His orgasm struck like lightning, followed by thunderous ecstasy. In a singular moment, tension snapped and broke over him in a deluge of powerful, convulsing delight. Omicron couldn’t make a noise, lungs still locked up with an impending sneeze that his body, even in the flood of endorphins, hadn’t forgotten. He was barely through the first spasm of his orgasm when-

“BZZSSHHh-hHUH, ahHH!!”

It wasn’t the strongest sneeze of the night by far, but it sent a mind-blowing ricochet of pleasure through the core of him. With momentary control of his throat, he managed a short shout before his breath was whisked away on another gasp. His orgasm hovered on pause, building tension and expectation as his body struggled with executive commands. Stymied, it decided to do everything at once.

“H’BBZZSSSHHhuUHHHohgod!!”

Omicron folded over himself as he ejaculated a second time, and shuddered with another devastating orgasmic rush. His abs clenched, his thighs trembled, he kept one hand on the bedspread to prop himself up as he groaned through seismic waves of sensation. Usually the pleasure centralized to his groin but now it was his entire body, every single inch of him tingling with residual energy.

When he felt his lungs stutter, his nostrils flutter, the come-hither squirm of something in his nose, his eyes widened before rolling closed. His dick twitched, weak but willing. He was helpless against the tickle, didn’t want to fight it, wanted it to tease his nose to insanity so he could sneeze and sneeze and sneeze and sneeze, but the rational side of him knew his head was spinning and his skin was prickling and-

A fittish hitch for every eager moan. “-hh!uh.. hHH!uhh..”

Omicron’s mind spun, a touch of panic even as he fidgeted with anticipation. I’m so wrung out, I might-

Pressure building. Exhausted, but unsatisfied. “-HHH!uhh!..hHHH!-UH-”

I might actually black out.

Regardless of the risks, when he felt the surge of sensation finally reach his nostrils flung wide and ready, Omicron smiled into the release. “HH!!- HP’BBBZZSSSHH-!!”

The sneeze reverberated through him like a gong, down to his very atoms. Pleasure overloaded his veins, too much for his body, and he sank down dizzily while he shook through the clenching aftershocks. He had nothing left, but his dick spasmed anyway, leaking what was left of his load onto the sheets. Faintly, he realized he’d never had an orgasm so intense. Probably would never have one quite like it again. It was this thought that made him savor the trembling bolts of brightness that coursed through him as he drifted.

His vision fuzzed at the edges. His heartbeat pounded in his head. I was right, he thought as he watched dark spots overtake his blurry view of the room. Gonna pass out.

As he faded, he felt soft hands cradle his cheeks and heard a satin voice tell him, “Good boy.”

+ 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 + 🔥 +

Awareness came back in pieces.

First, tactile sensation — a damp cloth wiping sweat, mucus, and cum off his skin; gentle fingers massaging sore muscles, raking through his hair; clean, dry blankets wrapping him up.

Next, sound — quiet banter; hushed bustling around the room; a door opening and closing, the comforting drone of a television set to low volume.

Finally, Omicron cracked open his eyes. Turned out to be a terrible idea, as the rest of his body came online to remind him of what he’d just done. His head pounded, there was an awful taste in his mouth, and his rear end stung when he shifted his weight the wrong way. Not the worst he’d ever felt, but coupled with the immovable sinus pressure and overall fever-malaise, Omicron would have preferred more sleep to being conscious.

You shouldn’t have been asleep in the first place, came the conditioned response that he ignored. While it wasn’t exactly advisable to fall unconscious in enemy territory at the hands of international cyber criminals, after the intimacy they’d shared Omicron doubted they tried any funny business while he was out. He didn’t have the strength to berate himself for it.

With much effort, he sat up to an empty room bathed in low lamplight. All the traces of guests were gone, save for a few items on the bedside table: two unopened bottles of water, a fresh-bought bottle of NyQuil, a stack of clean handkerchiefs, and a note written in a looping scrawl. He picked it up and squinted at it.

To our dear Nicolas-

Very sorry we couldn’t stay. Thought it was safest for us to dash.

The room is yours for the week, paid in advance. Get rest and feel better soon.

It’s best if we don’t meet again, but we will miss you terribly.

Hopefully Cris and I will catch your cold to remember you by 😘

Kisses-

J & C

Omicron slumped there for a second, zoning out on the lettering with static on the brain. It was over. He completed the mission. Relief didn’t come because he had no idea how successful he was, wouldn’t know until he hiked back to his hotel room. Aside from feeling like shit, he couldn’t come up with an excuse to delay it.

And so after guzzling down an entire bottle of water, off he went.

If the scramble to Josaline and Cristoph’s room was a blur, the hobble back to his own was a blackout. Omicron couldn’t remember much from the trip, aside from glaring at a graveyard shift housekeeper who clocked his walk of shame. Yes, he was barefoot in a bathrobe, smelling of sex, carrying his wrinkled belongings under one arm. He’d also just been vigorously railed up the ass and had lost half his weight in cum, snot, and tears. Excuse him if he wasn’t in the mood to make pretenses.

When he reached the door, Omicron realized he didn’t have his key card. With a sigh, he let his sweaty forehead thunk against the door — after which he almost became painfully acquainted with the carpet when it swung open a second later. A firm body spared him that fate.

“Omicron!” Strong hands steadied him by the shoulders. He raised his head to find Delta, very awake despite the hour and scanning his subordinate like he expected an injury. “Oh, thank goodness. It’s been hours.”

Omicron squinted, partially because he was so exhausted his eyes were blurring but mostly because he was confused. Of course it had been hours. Then a terrible thought struck him. “W-Was thad ndot edough time?”

His voice was a raspy, gunked facsimile of itself. Delta started shaking his head before Omicron even finished speaking. “No, no, it was more than enough! Don't worry, the hack was a complete success. The crypto team is very pleased, as am I, you knocked it out of the park. I suspect you'll receive a commendation from headq- oop!”

For the second time on this mission, Delta caught Omicron before he could swoon to the ground. The knowledge of a job well done thrummed through his veins. He felt like Atlas letting the world roll off his shoulders; his knees were weak from the strain of carrying it. With one arm anchored around his waist, Delta lifted the other to test Omicron's forehead against his palm. He hissed at the heat he found there.

“Oh, Omicron,” he muttered, exasperated, and glanced over his shoulder. “He's burning up.”

“Probably overexerted himself,” came Anita's voice, clearer as she got closer. Another hand, colder than the first, cupped the nape of his neck. Omicron couldn’t fight off his reflexive shiver. “Mm. Well, we still have some acetaminophen he can take.“

I'm standing right here, he thought, miffed but unable to marshal an objection. He let them bicker about what to do with him, limp in Delta’s arms, until his stuffy breaths grew shaky. For fuck’s sake, after everything, still?? Omicron groaned against Delta’s chest, eyes pinching and nostrils bucking in preparation for what was assuredly coming.

Conversation abruptly stopped, and Delta stiffened. “Omicron? What's wrong?”

“heh-..eh’TZSSsh!” His head bobbed and Delta tightened his hold while Omicron blinked in the limbo of another. It came gently, a feathery wind through his tired nose, and he took his gasp in sips. “h-h-hH’TDZSsh!”

‘I'm in charge here,’ he told his cold mere days ago. To imagine he began this journey with such hubris. He was defenseless, drained, devoid of the will to fight the way it twisted his expression. Lassoed his breath. Made his nostrils flutter, his balance suffer, and yet-

“DZZSSh’uu-!”

-they delivered him a visceral satisfaction he couldn’t begrudge. Someone pressed a bushel of tissues into his hands. Logically he knew he should use them, but the tickle kept him immobile. All he could do was lean against Delta, helpless to the thrall, breathing into it greedily with a feeble hope it would give him something strong enough to feel satisfied.

“..idzh.. h-HH!” It stalled out in his sinuses, and his expression froze in wait. Then-.. it rocked him forward. “..ZZSSH’uu!.. h’EH-” Stuck again. Omicron wavered there as the tickle smoldered, jogging his head back by tiny degrees. Oh, it felt big, then bigger and bigger as his nose wrestled with it. The back of his head bumped Delta’s shoulder before the tickle finally pushed him over the edge. He doubled over, anchored by the arm around his waist. “EEHCHZZSSSHHhhhhaa..”

A momentous sneeze petered out on a fulfilled sigh that dissolved into a muffled cough. He sagged, and Delta’s grip tightened again. As the world came back to him, he realized he’d sneezed freely, possibly catching somebody in the crossfire, but he just didn’t care. He belatedly lifted the tissues to his nose and cringed when they grated like sandpaper. The skin was so tender he dare not do more than blot it.

“Are you injured?” demanded Delta. Omicron shook his head against the man’s chest. No, no injuries. Nothing beyond what’s expected from vigorous sex. Delta asked next, “Do you want a shower?”

That was the politest possible way of saying, You look and smell like an utter wreck and it sucker-punched the tattered remains of his ego. Omicron shook his head again, partly because doing anything aside from laying down might make him cry, but mostly because he couldn’t stomach the idea of needing help from either of them in the bathroom.

Delta hitched Omicron more securely to his side, a decision made. “Alright. Bed, then.”

No, wheedled his sense of duty. I haven’t given my report yet. Omicron could barely keep his eyes open. He mumbled, “But, the debrief..”

“Can wait,” his superior finished. There was a rare sternness to his voice and it brokered no argument. “You need rest. That’s an order.”

Well, the boss meant business if he was throwing around orders. They washed over Omicron with a comforting finality — he didn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Delta would handle it. Responsibility evaporated and it was sweeter than anything he’d felt that evening. Heat welled up behind his eyes, a lump in his throat, and Omicron turned his face into his superior’s shirt.

It was so rare he could drop all his walls and lay himself bare, not on a bed but in life. Trust wasn’t a word in his dictionary, but tonight he wanted to know it. He sought solace in the steady thump of Delta’s heartbeat under his ear. Emotion loosened his congestion, forcing him to repeatedly sniffle as he tucked the sleeve of his bathrobe under his sore nostrils.

“Okay,” he whispered, and surrendered.

The walk to the bed was slow, shivery, and stumbling, but Delta threw back the covers and lowered him to the mattress. Once Omicron was supine he brought the blankets back up and took care to tuck them in. He’d make a good dad, his fever mused as he watched Delta fetch a fresh box of unscented, lotion-infused tissues for him. He ripped out a dozen to hand over and Omicron gathered them to his nose for a strengthless blow. It didn’t do much for his congestion, but got his nose dry enough that he wasn’t constantly sniffling.

The vibration of his sinuses chased out a sneeze, one that came over him like a misty cloud — foggy, permeating, gentle. His eyes weighted gradually as the tickle filled him up, and he huffed little hitches as it mounted. Someone (Delta) exchanged his used tissues for clean ones. He brought them up to his nose just in time to catch it.

“-heh..TSSsh!”

He blinked as the cool, tingling conclusion hazed into another declaration. As if it knew how tired he was, the tickle barely tried. It reminded him of the way someone might pet a small animal, with just one finger and very little pressure. Delicately, carefully, like you were scared of hurting it. The tickle was a repetitive, soothing stroke against his frayed nerves. What once wouldn’t have been enough was now plenty, and Omicron relaxed back against the pillows while he let it come.

“hh!ih.. h.. h…mmbb..” A soft sniffle, a softer sigh, and oh- “.. ih’TZSssh!..” His eyes fluttered open, eyes tilted skyward under heavy lids. His nostrils flared methodically, hypnotized, and his lungs gathered breath with an unhurried hhhhhhh.. before he jolted into his pile of tissues. “TZSSshoo!.. huh..”

His nose tingled pleasantly, and while it would be temporary, Omicron let himself float.

“.. Bless you.”

Delta stood there with a hand on his hip, scrubbing the other back and forth through his cropped hair. There was a look on his face that Omicron couldn’t parse — knitted brows, lips pressed in a line, thoughts racing behind his eyes too quick for Omicron to guess at them. Anita walked up behind Delta’s shoulder, studied him for a moment, and then pinched her nose with a long, silent sigh. Omicron caught her smiling, a tiny, amused slant to her lips, before she stepped up alongside their team leader to give him a hearty slap to the back.

“I’ve got him, sir,” she said with a grin. He turned to look at her, then back at Omicron, then Anita again. His feet stayed rooted to the spot until she arched a brow. Then scratched his head one last time.

“Alright,” he conceded, though he sounded unhappy. He bent down to Omicron, cupping his subordinate’s shoulder through the blankets, and gave him a genuine smile. “You did a stupendous job, Agent Omicron. Leave the rest to me. All you need to do now is sleep. Do you understand?”

Omicron nodded. The praise of a job well done, so sincerely and deliberately conveyed, sprung instant tears to his eyes. They gathered faster than he could wipe them away. Thankfully Delta didn’t see, already moving for the door with an authority he seldom exuded.

“I’ll radio ops to update them. Call me immediately if anything changes.”

It shut behind him, and Anita plopped herself down on Omicron’s bedside. Her smile was warm, not a trace of good-natured mockery, as she reached out to thumb a tear away from the corner of his eye. This wasn’t the first time she’d watched him come apart after a mission, or found him docile because he didn’t feel good. This also wasn’t the first time she’d seen him cry. Because of this, she knew how to handle him when he got this way.

Quiet voice. Yes or no questions. No unnecessary attention drawn to his demeanor. Simple instructions when she wanted something from him, and positive feedback when he accomplished it. She gave him medication, water, and ignored his weak complaints when she insisted on a quick physical examination to ensure the night went as safely as he insisted it did.

And when there was nothing left to do, as Anita stood to give him space, Omicron reached around to hook a hand at the hem of her shirt. She paused. He heard the huff of fondness and felt the bed dip when she sat down again. He closed his eyes when her hand smoothed up the plane of his back through the sheets.

“Until you fall asleep?” she asked. He nodded into the pillows, and sighed when she moved her hand back down his spine. Up again. And down. Steady and reassuring, a sedative that reached for him and escorted him toward slumber.

But because this was Anita, and because she was the way she was, she couldn’t help but mutter around a smirk, “Why can’t you be this cute all the time, O?”

He grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at her. This time, it didn’t miss.

/tbc!

Omicron: (has mind blowing sex while sneezing his brains out) Omicron: Omicron: this better not awaken anything in me.

There will be a short epilogue to wrap up the story! Thank you for sticking with me this far! 🧡

#snzblr #snz #snz kink #snzfic #scatterfic #snzfucker #omicron verse #original characters

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