⋆˚✿˖° hii ! just a lover girl who reblogs and fangirls!❤︎ infp ❤︎ I love laufey, clairo, lana del rey, reading, pink, yj, kpop, and much more!!! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.
︵ ೀ mdni. being anxious and insecure the fist time sleeping with toji so he has to learn how to be soft ( size difference / tummy bulge / creampie )
toji fushiguro has never felt this helpless in his life.
you’re lying underneath him, completely naked, and instead of the usual heat and hunger, all he sees is anxiety written all over your face. your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, knees pressed together, eyes squeezed shut like you’re bracing for something painful. you want this—you told him you did—but right now you look terrified.
“hey,” he mutters, voice rougher than he means it to be. “you still with me?”
you nod, but it’s tiny. “i… i want to. really. i just—i’m scared i won’t be good enough. you’re so… big. everywhere.”
toji glances down at himself, at his broad chest, thick arms, heavy cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. yeah. he knows. the size difference has never bothered him before, he even kinda liked it, but seeing you this nervous makes something uncomfortable twist in his chest. he isn’t used to this. he’s used to rough, fast, no feelings attached. not this soft, shaky vulnerability.
“shit,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. he feels clumsy, too big for the moment. “i’m not good at this gentle shit.”
still, he tries. he shifts his weight so he’s not crushing you, lowering himself onto his elbows. one massive hand gently pries your arms away from your chest. “don’t hide from me,” he says, quieter this time. “you’re so beautiful.”
you whimper when his calloused palm cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. he’s trying to be soft, but his hands are rough from years of fighting.
toji leans down and kisses your neck, slow and open-mouthed, hoping it helps. when you finally relax a little, he moves lower, kissing between your breasts, then your stomach. his mouth is hot, a little sloppy, but sincere.
“tell me if it’s too much,” he mumbles against your skin. “i’ll stop. swear.”
when he finally settles between your legs, his cock looks obscene against your smaller frame. thick, heavy, already glistening. you tense again the second you feel the blunt head nudge your entrance.
“breathe,” he says, one hand stroking your thigh. he’s trying so hard to be gentle, but his voice is strained. “i’m not gonna shove it in. not like that.”
he rubs the head up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. you’re soaked despite the nerves, and that small fact makes him groan low in his throat. still, he goes slow—pushing in just the tip first, jaw clenched tight.
“fuck… you’re tight,” he hisses. his hips twitch, instinct screaming at him to thrust, but he forces himself still. “too much?”
you shake your head, eyes still closed. “keep going… please.”
toji pushes in another inch, then another, cursing under his breath the whole time. every time you whimper he freezes, big hand rubbing clumsy circles on your hip. he feels too big, too rough, too much for someone as anxious as you. but you’re taking him so well, stretching around his thick cock, and it’s driving him crazy.
halfway in, he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. his voice comes out rough but surprisingly soft. “you’re doing good, baby. so fucking good for me.”
when he finally bottoms out, buried to the hilt, you both moan. he stays still for a long moment, letting you adjust, even though his arms are shaking with the effort of holding back.
then he starts moving—slow, shallow thrusts at first, trying not to be too rough. but toji has never been gentle in his life, and it shows. his hips snap a little harder than he means, the slap of skin louder than he wants. every time he catches himself he curses and slows down again, kissing you messily to make up for it.
“sorry—shit, sorry,” he mutters against your lips when he accidentally thrusts too deep. “you feel too good. can’t help it.”
you wrap your arms around his neck, finally opening your eyes. the fear is still there, but so is want. “it’s okay… i like when you’re a little rough.”
that seems to break something in him. toji gathers you against his broad chest, one thick arm sliding under your back to hold you tight. he fucks you like that—deep, steady, still a little clumsy, but wrapped completely around you. every thrust is punctuated with gruff praises and clumsy kisses.
when you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock, toji follows right after with a low groan that vibrates through his chest. the feeling hits him like a punch to the gut.
your walls flutter and squeeze around him so tightly, pulsing in waves as your orgasm crashes through you, and it drags him under with you. his hips stutter once, twice, then slam deep one final time as he spills inside you—thick, hot ropes of his creamy cum flooding your insides for the very first time.
“fuck— that’s it… take it,” he rasps against your ear.
it feels overwhelming. the wet heat of your pussy milking him, the way your body trembles and clenches like it never wants to let him go, the slick sound of his cum already starting to leak out around his thick cock. he’s never felt anything like this before—raw, intimate, almost too much.
every pulse of his release seems to push deeper, filling you until you’re stuffed full of him. toji stays buried to the hilt, hips pressed flush against yours, letting every last drop spill into you. his breath comes in heavy pants against your neck as the intensity slowly ebbs, leaving him shaky and strangely tender.
he’s cum inside plenty of women before, but never like this.
never while holding someone so small and anxious in his arms. never while feeling your heartbeat hammering against his own. never while his rough hands are still gently stroking your back like you might disappear if he stops touching you.
the sensation lingers—warm, wet, intimate—and it makes his cock twitch again even as he softens just a little inside you.
“shit…” he mutters. “you feel that? feel me filling you up?”
he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, still rocking ever so slightly to push his cum deeper, savoring the way your body accepts every bit of him.
for the first time in his life, cumming inside someone doesn’t just feel good.
it feels right.
then his large hand slides down between your bodies. his palm presses firmly against your lower belly, right below your navel. he pushes down gently, feeling the slight bulge of his thick cock still buried deep inside you.
“fuck… can feel myself right here. so deep in you.”
you gasp sharply—you’re still so oversensitive from your orgasm, every nerve raw and sparking. the feeling of his hand pressing down while he’s still inside you makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to squirm away.
“toji… don’t— it’s embarrassing…”
“no,” he says, firm but surprisingly gentle. his thumb strokes softly over your skin as he looks down at you, eyes dark and intense even in the low light. “look how well you’re taking me. all full of my cum… belly swelling just a little because of me. nothing about this is embarrassing, baby. it’s fucking perfect.”
you whimper, face burning hotter, but your body betrays you by clenching around him again. toji lets out a low, satisfied hum and presses down just a tiny bit more, feeling the shape of himself through your soft stomach.
“yeah… just like that,” he murmurs, voice dropping even lower. “so damn pretty when you’re stuffed full of me.”
then toji rolls onto his back, taking you with him so you’re lying on his massive chest, his cock still nestled warm inside you. the room is quiet except for your slowing breaths. his rough hands, usually so quick to grab and bruise, now move with surprising tenderness. one palm strokes slowly up and down your spine, while the other hand cups the back of your head, thumb brushing gently behind your ear.
he keeps caressing you in long, lazy passes—over your shoulders, down your arms, along the curve of your waist. every touch is careful, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid his calluses might scratch you.
what the hell have you done to him?
he feels clumsy and huge and completely out of his depth, yet he can’t stop touching you. can’t stop wanting to be gentle for you.
“you okay?” he asks.
you nod. “yeah… you were really good to me.”
toji huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no bite in it. his hand keeps stroking your back in slow circles. “didn’t think i still knew how to be gentle,” he admits, almost to himself. “you’re making me all soft, doll. never thought anyone could do that.”
he pulls the blanket higher around your shoulders and tucks you more securely against him, one thick thigh sliding between yours to keep you close. his fingers continue their gentle exploration—tracing the shell of your ear, the line of your jaw, the delicate skin of your collarbone.
“stay here tonight,” he murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to your hair. “don’t want you going anywhere. not after that.”
you smile against his chest, and toji feels something warm and unfamiliar settle deep in his ribs.
yeah… you’ve ruined him.
and for once, the roughest man alive doesn’t mind being soft at all.
18+ MDNI, smut - accidentally calling bf!toji 'daddy' in bed
tojis got you on your stomach with your head turned sideways on the pillow. your arms are all wobbly and useless, unable to even hold yourself up.
his hands are firm on your hips. rough voice low and smug in your ear. “so fuckin’ tight, baby. makin’ all these cute little noises for me.”
you sob something that’s not really a word. at this point, he’s fucked you so good, you’re babbling gibberish.
“what was that?” he huffs a laugh. “couldn’t hear you, sweetheart.”
he’s big. that massive cock that always stretches you just a little too much until you’re wrung out and trembling.
of course, tonight’s no different. he’s been fucking you for what feels like age. you can’t really tell. time isn’t a concept for you anymore. toji’s cock slowly slides into you. letting you feel every single inch of his large and veiny dick.
your brain’s melting. at this point, if a doctor took an MRI of your brain, you’re pretty sure it would resemble ice cream. therefore, this causes your mouth to move faster than your thoughts.
“d-daddy-“
you freeze. he stills. mid-thrust. there’s a beat of silence.
oh my fucking god. you did not just say that.
you bury your face in the pillow, mortified. “i-i didn’t- i wasn’t-“
he growls, “say it again.”
you peek up, startled. “what?”
his hand comes down, sharp on your ass.
you yelp.
“say it again, baby. you said it so sweet.”
you squirm. he rolls his hips into you.
“go on. i’ll fuck you just how you like. but you first have to say it.”
you choke on a moan. “daddy-“
he groans.
grabs you by the waist and pounds into you - harder and rougher than before. the bed is creaking repeatedly, which will no doubt annoy the neighbours.
“fuck, that’s it. that’s my girl.”
he doesn’t let up despite you clawing desperately at the sheets. crying out with every thrust and he’s right there behind you. his breathing ragged, hands all over your hips and waist and thighs.
“you like that? like daddy fuckin’ you stupid?”
you nod frantically. “yes- yes- please don’t stop-”
“didn’t know you were such a little slut for it, baby,” he leans down and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “shoulda called me that sooner.”
you shatter after that. crying out his name while you fall apart underneath him. your legs are shaking unstoppable. your throat feels raw from all your cries and moans.
he finishes not long after, groaning into your skin with his cock buried to the hilt. you both collapse in a mess of sweat and shaky limbs.
after a minute, he reaches for a tissue, still catching his breath.
“you alright, princess?”
you cover your face. “i can never show my face again.”
he laughs.
“what, because you called me daddy? please. you think i didn’t love that? i’m gonna bring it up every time you ask me for anything now.”
you groan.
he leans over and kisses your cheek.
“‘daddy can you get me a glass of water,’” he mocks you in a fake high-pitched voice.
you smack his chest.
he’s grinning.
“spoiled little thing. but you’re my little thing.”
A/N: I feel like I haven't written a toji fic that wasn't apart of the fushiguro family series in AGES! so here's one!!!
boyfriend toji interrupts bunnyhybrid!girlfriend’s study sesh :3
content. mdni. | bunnyhybrid-college!gf + older bf toji, multiple orgasms, p in v, fluff into smut, slight overstim, bunny ear stroking, whipped toji
based off this request !! / written for @slightly-vivienne99 <3
a/n: omg I’m genuinely sorry if this is bad guys this is my first time trying to write bunny reader and idk if it’s chuzz but I tried to do research </3 idk lmk thoughts pls
it was late in the evening. studying was the only priority today.
you were lying flat on your stomach in bed, staring down into the thick textbook that was extremely important for an upcoming final.
every few seconds your nose twitched as you comprehended the confusing words and tried to make sense of them. the end of your poor pencil rested in between your teeth—a stress reliever for you to chew on.
the sound of your boyfriend’s footsteps faded into the room and you could feel his stare immediately. he admired you, a grin pulling at his lips that lit up his usually stern face.
he found all of your mannerisms so endearing, especially when they took over you. like right now.
“hi sweetheart.” his fingers reached up to graze against your fluffy ears which twitched irritably.
“babe. I’m studying.” you reminded, moving away from him.
he pouted, feigning hurt and brushing his fingertips against your hairline. “and you look so cute. come on, take a break.”
your wide-eyed stare remained fixed on the pages, unrelenting. “need to study.”
he chuckled softly and stroked your hair, heart swelling at the sight of you. “come on sweetheart.”
with a dramatic huff, you got off the bed and stood in front of him with furrowed brows. you thumped your foot against the floor impatiently which only made the smile on his face widen impossibly.
his hands reached up to cradle your face before squishing your cheeks. “you’re so fucking cute.” he murmured happily.
a light flush crept up your face as your nose twitched with both irritation and appreciation. “this is what you interrupted me for?”
he pressed his lips to your forehead a few times. “can’t a guy appreciate his cute lil’ bunny?” he asked softly, caressing your cheeks.
you shook your head, peering up at him. “you’re being silly.”
he pinched the chubby skin with a wide smile plastered to his face. then he tugged you in to his chest, large arms swallowing your much smaller body. “and y’er being so cute like always, can’t get enough of this lil’ attitude.”
your ears drooped slightly out of shyness as you melted into the hug, cheeks pink from all of the compliments. his arms tightened around you while he breathed in your scent with a sigh.
slumping against him, your fingers fidgeted with his soft cotton shirt distractedly. the press of your bodies together felt too good.
his hard chest firmly against your plushy tits warmed your body immediately. all thoughts of studying were out the window. he swayed you guys side to side, squeezing you with his beefy muscles.
“where’d that attitude go now, hm?” he teased against your ear which made you shiver.
his eyes met yours, the irritation from earlier replaced by something that burned hotter. a knowing smile took over his grin, one hand moving to hold your chin.
“don’t wanna be sassy anymore?” he whispered softly but his tone was taunting. your eyes flitted around the room now to avoid his gaze.
his fingers on your chin moved to hold the back of your neck firmly, forcing you to look at him. “sweet little bunny, getting all shy from a simple hug?” he teased.
your nose twitched and you shook your head slightly, ears drooping down further in an attempt to hide your face. “no..”
his eyes glinted with desire at the switch in your attitude. how you’d gone from sassy to at his mercy within seconds.
he let go of your face to easily lift you by your thighs while your feet kicked in surprise. before you knew it, you were thrown onto the soft bed and he was crawling on top, caging you in with his broad body.
you flushed and your nose twitched rapidly out of anticipation, staring up at him.
“this what you want or you wanna go study some more?” he teased, leaning in to give you a slow kiss.
you lifted your head to meet him desperately. “this.. please.” you rushed out shyly.
within seconds, clothes were ripped off and ended up forgotten elsewhere. his large hand pinned your wrists down above your head while his other gripped onto your thigh as he plunged his aching cock into your drooly cunt.
“dripping all over me, bunny.” he drawled, gaze fixed on where your bodies connected.
you squeaked at the fullness, hips lifting up towards him as he fucked into you quicker. his fingers moved from your thigh to your head to stroke the fur of your sensitive ears just how you liked.
the sensation collided with the pressure building from his thrusts, making your head spin. “ahh— toji, feels too good.”
the pace was so frantic and hurried, all of the movement made your precious textbook fall to the floor with a clash. you were too gone to even care.
the knots in your stomach tightened as his cock nudged that spongy sweet spot over and over while calloused fingers continued to scratch against the fuzz of your floppy ears.
it was overwhelming and pushed you into dizzying pleasure rapidly. your hips bucked up towards him uncontrollably as you whined softly and tears filled your eyes from the staggering bliss.
“aw, poor bunny coming so fast. if you wanted me to fuck you, you should’ve said that earlier sweetheart.” he murmured lowly, and moved his hand down to firmly circle your clit.
his hips rolled forward to bury himself deeper inside of your messy cunt. your body began to shake, soft ears pinned flat against the bed as you took his pounding.
“gonna — ngh — come again, ‘ji!” you cried, tears warming your cheeks as they slid down and another orgasm tore through you.
he continued his slow, hard thrusts as he came with you and emptied his load inside of your pulsing cunt.
light kisses to your wet cheeks was how he soothed you, reveling at how soft and spent you were.
“pretty bunny, always do so good f’me.” he whispered, your heart still racing.
cw: explicit smut, creampie, your best friend toji can’t help but suck on your tits when they’re in his face.
You’re standing between his knees on the sagging couch, legs bracketing his spread thighs, trying to salvage something resembling “professional” out of his perpetually fucked-up hair.
He’s got an important meeting in like forty-five minutes—some back-alley deal with a couple ex-sorcerers who apparently pay stupid money for stupid jobs. “Good payout,” he’d grunted when he asked you to fix him up. That’s Toji code for “don’t ask questions and don’t make me late.”
You’re working fast. One hand cups the back of his head, steadying him; the other rakes through the damp black strands with a little water from a spray bottle and a pea-sized dollop of the cheap gel you keep in your bathroom drawer. His hair’s thick, stubborn, always falling into that lazy, dangerous flop over his forehead no matter what you do.
Your tank top is way too short and at least one size too small—rides up with every reach. You lean in closer to get the front right, elbows brushing his shoulders. The fabric stretches tight across your chest. One wrong shift and—Pop!
Your left tit slips free entirely, nipple already half-hard from the cool air and the friction of cotton all morning. It’s right there—swaying an inch from his nose. Toji goes still. You don’t notice at first. Too focused on sculpting that one rogue piece that refuses to behave. Then you feel it: warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Then—
His mouth closes around your nipple in one smooth, shameless motion. A wet, sucking pull. Tongue circling around your sensitive nipple. Your whole body locks up and you look down. “Toji—” he doesn’t stop, sucking harder as his cheeks hollow, as he laps at your breast. His eyes are half lidded, he’s clearly enjoying himself.
“Toji, what the fu—” Your nipple’s swollen, glistening, darker than the rest of you now, and the cool air after his mouth feels like a slap.
“They were right there,” he says again, rough hands running up your legs. His thumb brushes the crease where thigh meets ass. “Swingin’ in my face while you’re playin’ hairdresser. What’d you expect?”
You’re still standing between his spread thighs, his knees bracketing your legs, that stupid too-small tank top shoved up under your tits now from all the movement. You can see the thick outline of his cock straining against his sweats. “I was trying to make you look presentable for your shady little meeting,” you manage, trying for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to breathless. “Not… this.”
He smirks, green eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah?” He leans forward again, just enough to drag the flat of his tongue over the wet peak he just abandoned. You twitch, thighs squeezing together on instinct. “You’re doin’ a shit job of actin’ mad about it, princess.”
His free hand comes up, cups the underside of the breast he hasn’t touched yet, thumb brushing over the neglected nipple until it pebbles tight. Then he’s guiding it slowly toward his mouth too, giving you every second to pull away. But you don’t.
Instead your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates through you again and you feel yourself get wetter, slick gathering at the tops of your thighs. “Toji,” you whisper, half plea now. “You’ve got that meeting in—”
“Fuck the meeting,” he mutters, voice muffled as he latches onto the second nipple, sucking harder this time. His hand on your ass finally slides higher, fingers dipping under the hem of your shorts, finding damp cotton and pressing against your clit.
You choke on a moan, knees buckling. He steadies you, “Been watchin’ these tits spill out every damn time you lean over for months,” he growls against your skin, switching back to the first nipple like he can’t decide which one he likes better. “You think I don’t notice? Think I’m not hard as fuck every time you ‘accidentally’ flash me?”
He nips and your hips jerk forward against his hand.“Say stop,” he rasps, finally pulling back far enough to look up at you. Lips shiny, pupils blown. “Say it and I’ll stop. We’ll fix my hair, I’ll go make my sketchy money, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
His fingers flex against your soaked panties—“Or…” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting you there. “You can keep standin’ there lettin’ me suck on you till you’re drippin’ down my wrist. Your call, baby.”
His free hand grips your ass, kneading, spreading you open a little as his fingers dip lower—two sliding through your folds, coating themselves before pushing inside slow. You clench around him instantly moaning, “Toji—oh god—”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls. You can’t even form words—just a needy whine as he switches breasts again, sucking the other one deep while his thumb rubs messy circles over your clit.
When you finally slump forward, forehead dropping to the top of his head, he eases his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean with a satisfied hum. “Good girl,” he rasps, pulling them free with a soft pop. “Now turn around.”
Before you can even process it, his big hands are on your hips, spinning you so your back is to him. He yanks your shorts and panties the rest of the way down in one rough tug, letting them tangle around your ankles. Then he’s hauling you back, sitting you down hard on his lap so your bare ass lands right on the fat, throbbing length of him still trapped in his sweats.
You grind back on instinct, slick pussy lips sliding along the thick ridge of his cock through the thin barrier. He shifts under you—hips lifting just a fraction—and you feel the slow drag of fabric as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and his cock flaps free. The fat head pops past your tight hole and into your wet cunt. “You’re such a perv,” you gasp, “All those times I ‘accidentally’ flashed you in the kitchen? Under the car hood when I was helpin’ with your junker? You were just sittin’ there gettin’ boners, huh?”
“Damn right.” He nibbles at you ear as he bounces you. “That time at the beach? Bikini top slippin’ while you bent over for the cooler? Nearly nutted in my trunks right there in front of everybody.” He punctuates it with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, “And don’t get me started on laundry day. Your shitty dryer always eatin’ your bras—tits bouncin’ free every time you reach for the high shelf. Been jerkin’ off to that for weeks, princess.”
“Fuck—you never said shit.” You’re panting now, grinding faster, the wet schlick of your pussy against his cock. “Why would I? You kept doin’ it.” He nips your shoulder, free hand coming up to maul your breast again—pinching the nipple he’d sucked raw earlier until you yelp.
You glance down between your bodies just in time to see it—his cock glistening, veins bulging, coated in your cream every time you lift up. The sight makes you clench hard; he curses under his breath, hips snapping up harder in retaliation. “Shit—do that again.”
You do—squeezing down on every upstroke, fluttering around the head when he’s almost out, you’re arching back against his chest, head thrown on his shoulder. “Gonna cum already?” he taunts, “Barely started and you’re shakin’ hard as hell.”
“Shut—shut up—” you gasp, but you’re too close, too full, too overwhelmed by his cock. “Just—don’t stop—fuck, Toji—” your whole body locks up, pussy spasming violently around him as you scream his name. His punishing thrusts, drawing it out until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.
“Fuck—good girl—cummin’ so hard on me—” His rhythm stutters as hot pulses fill your pussy, you can feel it leaking down your thighs, warm and sticky, mixing with your own mess.
Eventually he huffs a laugh, voice hoarse. “Hair’s completely fucked now.” You snort weakly, “Your meeting…”
“Fuck the meeting.” He nuzzles into your neck, one hand sliding up to cup your breast again, thumb circling the swollen nipple. “Got better things to do. Like gettin’ you to the bedroom so I can eat this pussy properly. Wanna taste what we just made.”
a/n: ima whore for a good titty suck like fuckkkkk
cw. soobin is a human-sized faerie with wings, chubby!reader has braces but that's rarely mentioned, reader has anxiety, reader needs to be high on shrooms to see/hear/touch soobin (it'll make sense i swear! ((dear god i hope it makes sense at least))), kissing, penetration (protection not mentioned), cunnilingus, nipple stuff, "baby," angsty ending, let me know if i missed anything.
note. like i said, reader has to be high on shrooms to see, hear, and touch soobin, so technically they're both on drugs when they have sex, so caution if that makes you uncomfy. and oh surprise, surprise! very self indulgent. i've never written anything remotely fantasy so this is new territory for me and i'm super nervous for y'all to read it. but i hope y'all love it <3
wc. 7.2K
There she is again. Not many humans venture this far out into the woods, but I recognize her every time. Well, I recognize her aura. Typically, humans appear in a dream-like haze—I can make out what they look like and even hear what they’re saying. But when their hearts are weighed down, their aura overwhelms everything, blinding me to their true physical form.
My friends tease me for being so fascinated with humans, but I can’t help it. They’re delightful in their peculiar ways—bringing their lovers and friends for little celebrations, visiting us with their sweet treats and elixirs. They’re so distracted with joy, they hardly notice when we take some for ourselves.
This human is different, though. She’s always alone, shrouded in a deep, stormy grey cloud that darkens every time she returns. For a moment, her aura softens as she rests at the edge of the creek, taking deep breaths while the storm eases into a fragile calm. But it never lasts. Within a week, she returns and the weight she carries seems heavier than before.
Today, she rushes to the creek bed, crouches by the water, and her weeps and cries are the loudest I’ve ever heard. She’s shaking. I creep closer, hoping to make anything out of her cloud, but nothing. Taking a seat on the moss on the other side of the creek, I simply watch her. Her cries crescendo into a gut-wrenching wail and I can’t take it anymore.
I toss a small pebble into the creek, watching as orange flickers throughout her cloud—fear. After another, it turns a muddy blue—curious. It twists and turns in search of something and when she leans toward the water, I summon a gold shimmer into the creek, dancing across the ripples as it catches the light. Her gasp breaks the silence, and for the first time, I hear her voice, distant and fragile.
“Oh my god.”
A grin tugs at my lips. Her cloud has kept her hidden from me all this time, but I just know she’s absolutely adorable. A small pebble shoots out from her direction, falling into the water and I guide it to land right on top of the other two. When she tosses another in, I pause the current entirely, letting the surface hold still. Then, with a flick of my fingers, I release it with a bloop. And I hear a giggle. A giggle! It’s gorgeous. Like the first notes of my favorite song.
“Hello?” She asks and I conjure a ripple in response. “Is someone there?” In the center of the creek, I create a circle of stillness, the current bending around it at my command. Inside it, I make it change color in an attempt to communicate with her. I add the gold shimmer back, trying to tell her—to scream at her—Yes! Yes, I’m here! I’m right here. But her cloud flares orange—panic—and she stumbles back. In a heartbeat, she’s gone, running away from our dell.
Oh no. Shoving the heels of my hands into my eye sockets out of frustration, I shake my head. Oh no.
-
It’s been weeks. Every day, I return to watch the humans, hoping my favorite may return. Perhaps it was overwhelming for her—turning water gold that quickly. Regret gnaws at me as I pick a bit of a raspberry from under my nail from when I was harvesting them earlier. A rustle in the distance snaps me to attention, followed by the solid thud of something hitting the mossy ground.
A human. Not the one I’ve been waiting for, but they catch my eye—curvy and stunning and flipping through a book. After a moment, they put it aside, sitting criss-cross on the creekbank, bending toward the water.
“Hello?” She asks. Wait. I know that voice. I only heard it for a moment, but I’ve been dreaming about it so much recently, I’d recognize it anywhere now. She’s back! And I can see her!
And she’s so incredibly beautiful, I can’t help but stare. I stumble toward the creek bed and she speaks again, “Hello?” I respond with a water ripple.
“Hello, I’m here.” Speaking is useless, but I whisper under my breath anyway.
“Are you the same…thing I was talking to a few weeks ago?” The water slowly turns a gold shimmer and she grins. “Can I ask you some questions?” The gold gets stronger. “Gold means yes?” The shimmer holds steady. “Am I speaking with the water?” I make it turn a deep, murky teal. “Does that mean no?” Gold. “A witch?” Teal. “A ghost?” Teal again. “An angel?” Teal. “A faerie?”
Gold shimmer. I whisper, “Yes, yes,” proud of her for getting it.
“A faerie?” She asks excitedly and I celebrate with her in the form of a water ripple. “Oh wow,” she whispers. “So you can hear me?” Gold. “Can you see me?” Ah, what do I do now? I can’t quite see her yet, but I definitely can see more of her than she can of me.
“Grey?” She’s silent for a moment, humming as she tries to understand. “You don’t know if you can see me?” Teal. “You can kinda see me?” Gold. “I can’t see you at all,” she mumbles. She looks up again, unsure where to look. “Did you know that?” It stays gold while she chuckles to herself. The sound of it is intoxicating—like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind or a bird chirping. It warms me from the inside out.
“Where are you?” She asks. The current splits into two, flowing against each other and converging in a point aimed directly at me. As she follows the arrow with her eyes to look at me, her cloud clears fully and I can finally see her. For real this time. There’s still that angelic glow that won’t go away until the Veils have been lifted but I’m not so sure I’d want it to go away anyway. She’s absolutely, positively stunning. My breath is taken away. Her smile reaches her eyes and there’s something in her mouth—something I’ve never seen before, shiny and on every tooth.
Her body curves and moves gloriously and she looks irresistibly soft and…sexy. And I don’t use that word often. I want to hold her, touch her, squeeze her, make her feel something, but she can’t even see me. Even if I tried, my touch would be nothing but the whisper of a ghost.
Glancing down, her eyebrows furrow in confusion. She asks, “What does pink mean?” I shake my head to rid my thoughts of her and the water returns to its natural, clear, blue state.
There’s a beat of silence. She awkwardly speaks up, “So, a faerie, huh?” Slowly, the calm pool turns gold again. “I’ve got some books about the Fae.” Bubbles rise in curiosity. “Are you a human-sized faerie?” Gold.
“I think I may be a bit taller than you, though…” I whisper. I’m taller than most everyone in my village, so I can only assume I’m taller than her as well.
“A lot of these books say you all hate humans,” she says matter-of-factly.
The water turns a deep, angry red. “That’s a misconception!” I say with a grumpy giggle. Although, she’s not totally wrong. Most other faeries I know do hate humans, I suppose. I’m not sure why, though—they’re so sweet and cute. Us faeries tend to have a superiority complex. But that doesn’t mean we all have it out for the entirety of the human race.
“Oh,” she says, holding her hands up. “Sorry.” I forgot she can’t hear me, so the water calms itself. “Do you hate humans?” I can’t make it teal fast enough.
We spend hours in our woodland dell together—she watches as I make the water change colors, as I make flowers bloom in patterns, and as I talk with rabbits, asking them to bring me back berries and nuts. The way her eyes light up when I make the peonies bloom makes me feel like nothing else matters. I’d sit here for hours, building and blooming the garden of her dreams if I could—just to make her happy.
“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks, sitting next to me on the creekbank now that we’re on the same side. The water constantly follows me to show her my location.
“Of course,” I respond under my breath, hoping something might leak through into her realm.
“Coming out here and talking to you…” she sighs. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.” She chuckles. “Like, what would someone think if they saw me giggling at the water?” I wish I could shatter the wall blocking her realm from mine, dissolving any of that hesitancy and uncertainty. “But it makes me feel sane. It’s the only time I feel like my world isn’t falling apart.”
She’s told me all about her world—a stressful job, family problems, and constant crippling anxiety. I can’t imagine living in a world like hers. Humans fascinate me, yes, but I avoid the world they’ve created at all costs—booming cities absent from flora and fauna, no magic, lifeless but overwhelming at the same time.
“That’s a new one,” she says, glancing down at the water. When she looks back up, guessing where my eyes are, she asks, “What does silver mean?”
“I’m sad,” I whisper. Almost at the exact same time, like we’re connected at the heart, we say,
“I wish you could hear me.”“I wish I could hear you.”
As she fiddles with the green moss under her legs the water slowly turns a gold shimmer. I want that too. I want to talk to her, to feel her, hug her, kiss her. I want to be hers, to protect her from all that pain in her world. But my heart drops, the water steadily turning a sad silver again. I could never be that for her.
“Why can’t I see you?” She asks, sadness laced in her voice. I conjure a gentle wind, making one of her books fly open, flipping to a page titled, The Fae and Humans: Perception and Interaction. Her head snaps toward the sound, curiosity pulling her closer. Slowly, she crouches and reads aloud, “There is an intricate balance of aural, visibility, touch, and the altered states required to bridge the divide between the Fae and human realms. Understanding the two key thresholds—The Veil of Sight and Sound and the Veil of Touch—are crucial when communicating with the Fae.
“The Veil of Sight and Sound: Faeries exist on a frequency of reality imperceptible to humans. Under normal conditions, human vision and hearing cannot penetrate this Veil; however, certain factors can alter a human's perceptual capabilities. Mild intoxication induced by substances can create a temporary overlap between the human and faerie realms. In this state, humans can see and hear faeries in their true forms.
“The Veil of Touch: Even when humans achieve the rare ability to see and hear faeries, the Veil of Touch presents a further barrier. While perception might align momentarily, the physical matter of faeries and humans does not naturally interact. For touch to occur, a human must enter a deeper altered state—one that further detaches them from their own plane.”
Taking everything in, her lips barely move when she whispers, “Intoxication?” The water points toward a ring of mushrooms nestled at the edge of the creek. Each one has a delicate pearly white cap with faint iridescent streaks that catch the light like oil on water. The ring itself isn’t perfect; they grow unevenly, edges blending with soft moss and fallen leaves. They look relatively ordinary, but those iridescent streaks tell me they’re undeniably veil lanterns, a substance that lifts both veils for humans. Moving closer to the ring of mushrooms, she asks, “If I eat one of these, I’ll be able to see and hear you?” Gold shimmer. “How does it make me feel?”
How do I put this? I make the water swirl in on itself in different directions while it turns different shades of blue and green. It spirals upward into a sphere that hovers for a moment before gracefully falling back to the creek.
“Like I’m floating?” She asks curiously. Gold shimmer. She looks back at the mushrooms, her expression torn between hope and hesitation. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” she says softly, but her hand doesn’t move closer. Eventually, though, she plucks one out of the ground, holding it between her pointer finger and thumb, twirling it between her fingers. “Just one?”
“Just one,” I whisper under my breath as the water turns gold. Popping it in her mouth, I watch the soft aura that still surrounds her physical form turn a pretty relaxed yellow over the course of a few minutes. She talks to me as she lets the mushroom settle in—asking how long it’ll take or what happens if it doesn’t work.
“What if I’ve been making all this up in my head?” She chuckles to herself. “And I’ve been talking to a creek this whole time? How embarrassing would that be?” She rubs her hands over her face, groaning. “I can’t believe this,” she grumbles, curling into herself, her knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she closes her eyes and mutters, “Thinking a creek is talking to me…”
“That does sound a little silly,” I say, my voice light with amusement.
Her gasp breaks the quiet as her eyes fly open, and for the first time, she sees me. The realization washes over her in waves—hesitation, awe, and then a dawning understanding.
“Hello,” I say softly, letting her take me in, her eyes tracing over my entire body.
“Hi,” she breathes. “Where are your wings?” That’s an unexpected first question. Smiling, I unfold them, letting them catch the sunlight. Iridescent hues of pink and purple shimmer like liquid light. The intricate patterns etched into the delicate surface that scatter rainbows onto the ground below.
“Wow…” she whispers in disbelief. She reaches out slowly, her fingertips trembling as they near me. But her hand passes straight through, our realms still worlds apart. Confusion clouds her face and her glassy eyes blink with disappointment.
I shake my head and remind her, “The Veil of Touch, remember?”
“Oh, I need to have another mushroom?” I nod. She hurriedly reaches for one.
“Wait.” She halts and looks up at me. “You should take it easy with those. Let’s just talk. I’ve been dying for you to hear my voice.”
“That’s true.” She looks over at the water, then glances back up at me. “You’re so…pretty,” she says. “What’s your name?”
“Soobin.” Then she tells me her name. “We can have conversations much easier now, huh?” I smile.
With the Veil lifted, we spend the hour learning all we can about each other—her favorite color isn’t just yellow, it’s turmeric. She loves how it looks when she puts a teaspoon of it in her rice cooker and it spreads throughout the water. Her favorite flower is a poinsettia because her mother used to line the front porch with them during a winter holiday called Christmas. Those things on her teeth are called braces and they’re supposed to help her teeth somehow. She hates celery and loves broccoli, especially if they’re roasted in an oven. That scar on her cheek is from learning something called skateboarding. She loves the rain but is terrified of thunder. She hates how loud her laugh is, though it's my favorite sound.
She worries about being too much and not enough all at once.
As we talk, I can’t tell how much time we have left. I can tell I’m fading from her view but she never fades from mine. Her laughter grows quieter, her giggles becoming rare until they’re gone altogether. Her high is wearing off, and with it, the fragile connection we share. I can feel her pulling back, closing herself off again, like the gentle drift of someone falling asleep without realizing it.
Her eyes stay on me, intense and unblinking, memorizing every detail of my face to hold onto me for just a moment longer. Then I see it, the shift in her expression. Realization dawns like a shadow passing over her, her gaze losing focus.
“I can’t see you anymore,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with resignation. She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You’re gone again.”
-
“Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask, my voice soft but steady. Over the years, I’ve forged fragile connections with humans, always careful never to push too hard. Yet no matter how gentle I am, the same thing happens—they see too much, fear too much, and never return. And I don’t blame them. It’s utterly overwhelming. There’s no denying that.
But she’s been visiting me for months and I’ve never been this close to anyone. With her, the world feels sharper, more vivid. Every time she speaks, her words resonate with something deep inside me, as if they echo through places I’ve forgotten even existed.
She occupies my every waking moment. I’ve started to feel her even when she’s not here—her absence pressing against me like a quiet storm, a warmth that lingers in the air long after she’s gone. Her voice echoes in my mind when it’s silent. Every time our eyes meet, there’s that spark, that electric connection that tells me we’re on the cusp of something extraordinary.
We’ve talked about taking the next step so many times now. But it’s a huge step. It’s about stepping into a new reality, about making something impossible real.
She nods, her eyes bright with determination. “I’m sure.”
She picks up the mushroom, turning it over in her hands as though its surface might help her validate her decision. Then, with a shaky breath, she sets it back down, her resolve wavering. “What if this isn’t real?” she whispers, her gaze fixed on her trembling fingers. “What if I’ve just been…hallucinating all of this?”
“You’re not hallucinating,” I say gently.
She hugs her knees to her chest, biting her lip. “But what if I am? And if I eat another one, I just sink deeper into this… dream? Or illusion? Or whatever this is.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I assure her, leaning closer.
She lifts her head slightly, her expression torn. “But if I need these just to talk to you…” Her voice falters. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll always be dependent on them?”
I meet her gaze, steady and unwavering. “You’re already talking to me,” I say. “You don’t need another one to keep doing that.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, silence hangs between us. Then she speaks again, “But I can’t touch you.” Her eyes glisten, her vulnerability shining through. “And I want to.”
Something in me stirs—sharp and undeniable. My chest tightens, my voice trembling, “I want that too.”
She sighs my name, and it feels like the world is tilting. Her cheeks flush as she hesitates. “I want to…maybe it’s the mushroom talking,” she says quickly, her words tumbling out, “but I want you. I want you to kiss me and hold me and make me feel—”
“I want all of that too,” I interrupt, my voice low and earnest. “But only if you’re ready.”
Her shoulders sag slightly, her head tilting as she stares at the ground. “But it’ll never be truly real, though, will it?”
“It’s real,” I say softly. “Maybe not in the way we want it to be—but real enough to feel.” Nodding, she takes several seconds to think, picking at the green moss as a distraction. “What if I ate one too?”
“Would it even affect you?”
I nod and add, “It gives me a high, but nothing…magical happens.” We both agree to eat one, giggling and talking while we let them both set in.
“I’m not feeling much different, to be honest,” she says, her voice faltering. “I’m starting to think none of this is real. I’m just… seeing you, but you’re not really there.” Her hand lifts, a trembling finger reaching toward my cheek.
Then it happens.
The moment her skin touches mine, a spark—soft, warm, and undeniable—flares between us. She gasps, jerking her hand back as though it's been burned. But before the space between us can grow too wide, she reaches out again, her palm settling against my cheek, her thumb brushing over the curve with a tentative tenderness.
Her touch anchors me, and for a moment, I can’t speak.
“…Soobin,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re there. You’re really there.”
“I know,” I say, chuckling. “I’m really here. Watch this.” I reach out, dragging my fingertips over her forearm. She gasps again, yanking her hand back. “Are you okay?” I ask, concern flickering in my voice. She nods, slowly and deliberately moving her hand forward. Then, she runs her fingers through my hair and glides them down my shoulder and arm, leaving a shiver in their wake.
“Can I…your wings?” she asks, her voice filled with awe. I let them unfold just enough for her to see. Her breath hitches as she reaches out, the tip of her pointer finger brushing against the delicate edge of one wing. It flutters instinctively at her touch, responding to her presence, which spooks her a bit.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, watching her hand.
Encouraged and confident, she places her hand fully on top of my wing, her fingers tracing its intricate patterns as though committing every curve and shimmer to memory.
“Wow…that’s unreal,” she says. “I mean, it’s real, but doesn’t seem like it should be.” She inches closer, the space between us dissolving until our knees barely touch. Her fingers run down my arm lightly before picking up my hand, examining it closely, her thumb tracing the lines of my palm, the curve of my fingers. Then, I mirror her actions, taking her hand in mine. It’s warm, human, and yet so fragile under my touch.
Her hand travels upward to trace my features with her thumb. She lingers over the arch of my eyebrow, down the bridge of my nose, along the edge of my jaw. When she reaches my lips, her thumb pauses, grazing over the softness of my bottom lip. A breath escapes me, unbidden, and her touch slows, her thumb resting there for just a moment longer before she withdraws, her hand trembling slightly as it falls back into her lap.
I respond, my thumb swiping across her bottom lip and I tug her closer by her jaw until I can feel her breath on my chin.
“Can I kiss you?” I whisper.
She nods.
Our lips fall into one another and move over each other so beautifully—it beats out rainbows and peonies, the sound of water falling, the smell of peppermint leaves. It’s a paradox, making everything else feel insignificant yet illuminating the meaning of it all in the same breath.
It deepens and I hover over her, her legs coming out from under her while I guide her to lay down on the mossy patch, our lips never parting. Her lips feel so magical and soft and we only stop when she needs to come up for air. We smile at each other, our eyes sharing the same redness and glassy daze. I know exactly what I want to happen next, but I’m not so sure she’s ready for all that. I look at her, taking in all her beauty.
“You’re gorgeous,” I tell her.
“So are you,” she slurs. She reaches for my hand that’s already resting on her hip and moves it up to her chest, encouraging me to feel all of her.
I whisper her name and ask, “Are you sure you want this?”
“Please.” My lips crash into hers again and our hands are all over each other, on each other’s bodies, in each other’s hair, squeezing and squishing and feeling and rubbing. She breaks the kiss, “Have you ever done this before? You know, with a human?”
“Not with a human,” I chuckle. “But all the anatomy’s the same.”
“That’s good,” she giggles, grabbing my hair to kiss me again, but she’s quick to pull back. “Go slow, okay?” I nod. With a snap of my fingers, flowers swirl together, carried by a gentle breeze, forming a soft pillow for her to rest her head on. “Ah, thank you. I forgot you can do stuff like that.” Lifting the skirt of her dress up, I slowly move it past her thighs and she asks with a trembling voice, “Will people see us?”
I shake my head, telling her, “I cast a shadow cloak around us. No one can see us. Not even the other fae.” A look of relief and content falls across her face. “Can I…?” I ask, lifting her dress more. She nods. With each passing inch, my heart thumps as I drag my fingertips over her legs. Lifting it over her head, she’s laying under me, mostly bare. She’s still wearing two tiny pieces of fabric that cover her chest and bottom.
“I wore these for you,” she says, her voice soft and tinged with a shyness she can’t quite hide. The veil lanterns must’ve loosened her lips.
“You did?” My hands explore her curves, reverent and curious, tracing every inch of her body. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you.” Her skin is soft and inviting under my lips, and I scatter kisses lower, her body responding perfectly with mine. But then, I can’t hide my fascination any longer. I pause, my thumb brushing over the delicate pink fabric that’s still on her body. How do I put this? Ah, let’s just be candid. “What is this?”
“What do you mean?”
“These,” I say, running my fingers along the straps and edges of the fabric. “I’ve never seen clothes like this before.”
“Oh,” she giggles, tugging gently at one of the straps. “This is a bra. And these,” she gestures to the sides of the fabric on her hips, “are panties.” I hum thoughtfully, studying her with an amused tilt of my head.
“We don’t wear things like this. What’s the point of them?”
Her lips curve into a playful smile. “Look at me.” And I do. She’s delicious. “That’s the point.”
I smirk, my gaze lingering on her. “Am I—are you—supposed to take them off?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice catching just slightly, her flush deepening. My fingers brush over the fabric again, savoring the contrast between it and her skin. “Do you not like them?” she asks, her tone almost teasing.
“No, I do,” I reply, my voice dipping lower. “I have a feeling I’ll like your body even more.” I start to try and pull them off, but—
“Not yet,” she sighs. “Come here.” I sit up and she follows, her hand drifting to my top button. Slowly, she unfastens it, the slinky pink velvet slipping through her fingers with each deliberate motion. Once she pushes my shirt past my shoulders, I tug at the cuffs to free my arms. Her gaze stays locked on me as I fold my wings down, the delicate motion allowing me to slip the shirt off completely.
Extending her arm out, the tip of her middle finger barely touches my chest before she jerks her hand back, still not believing I’m tangible. Then she lets her hand fully press my body, dragging down to my waist. I remember how much my wings fascinate her, so I unfold them for her and she gasps.
Leaning closer, our lips fall into each other and I guide her to lay down again just the same as before. My thumb drags across the apple of her cheek, trailed by my pointer finger down column of her neck, following a line between her breasts, down to squeeze her waist. Holding her bra strap between my pointer and middle finger, I slowly pull it down, leaving kisses along the way and hoping I’m doing this whole bra-and-panties thing correctly. Then I do the same with the other side, watching as she effortlessly reaches behind her, making something snap so it falls off her chest, hanging loosely. She pulls it off herself, although I think I’m supposed to be the one that does that. Next time.
Looking down at her bare chest, I can’t help but feel giddy. The way her chest curves on itself, creating a gorgeous shape I desperately need to feel.
“I love these,” I say, kissing the side of her breast. She hums in question. And I nudge the marks on her skin with the tip of my nose. “These,” I say.
Her gaze follows mine as she glances down and asks, “Oh, my stretch marks?”
“We call them life lace.”
Her expression softens, her eyes meeting mine. “Life lace,” she repeats quietly, as if testing the words, a touch of wonder in her voice. I search and scour for every bit I can find—the most of it on her tummy, hips, and thighs. She’s still got that last bit of clothing around her hips she hasn’t taken off yet. That final barrier between us. We’ve knocked every other barrier down but something about this last one feels utterly real in a way the others didn’t.
Wrapping my hands around her thighs, I pull her gently so her legs wrap around my ears gently, shoving my face into her center over that last bit of clothing, inhaling. I’ve never been this close to a human before. She smells so different from the fae I’ve been with. She’s intoxicating and delightful—my mouth waters at how delicious she smells.
“I take this off, too?” I nudge at her entrance, earning a jolt. I must’ve nudged something sensitive. She nods eagerly, helping me take them off her.
“You too,” she reminds me and I shuffle to get rid of the rest of my clothes. Looking down at her, she’s giddy and completely entranced, which twinges my heart. It’s just the veil lanterns, the cynical part of me reminds myself. Her legs are casually spread open, giving me a full display of her glistening pussy. I skate my hands up her legs, feeling her ground herself in the feeling of my hands.
Teasing her entrance with my thumb, she’s hot and wet as she flutters around nothing, waiting for anything from me. I gather just enough of her wetness to make my pointer finger slick and tap her clit, making her flinch. Then, I rub the slowest, lightest circles over the nub and she lets out a ragged sigh. Her tightened muscles relax as she allows herself to feel every move I’m making, letting her head gently fall to the pillow of flowers.
Once she’s practically dripping, I slide my two middle fingers inside her, curling them to tease the most sensitive bit with the pads of them. Bending, I flick my pointed tongue against her clit, eliciting a whine while she desperately reaches for my hair. I’ve never tasted a human either, I realize. I’m not sure anything will ever be as delicious as her again.
“Oh my god,” she whimpers. Every sound she makes is gorgeous but I can’t wait to hear what she sounds like when she comes. I bet it's the most beautiful in the world. “W—wait…” she trails off, her hip thrusts betraying her words. “Soobin, wait—” she gasps. This time, I stop. Gently wrapping her hand around the back of my neck to pull me closer. “I want you…all of you, please.”
I take the time to memorize what her face looks like, how her hair is splayed out against the flowers, how kissable her lips look. And I don’t resist them. Pressing my lips to hers again, they mould into each other like we should’ve never been apart in the first place. She tries to place her hands on my back, stumbling as she realizes my wings are in the way, which rustle in response. Instead, she rests them on my waist, squeezing delicately.
We hesitantly part so I can sit up on my knees. This time, I take the time to memorize everything about her body—her stomach rolls folding from holding her legs open, the life lace at the tops of her thighs, the swell of her ass squished by the ground. Everything is absolute, utter perfection.
Slowly gracing my hands to follow the curve of her waist then down to her thighs and hips, little bumps cover her skin. I forget what humans call them. Finding her clit with my thumb again, I rub agonizingly slow circles, forcing her hips to roll involuntarily. Barely prodding her entrance with my cock, I watch her shiver and whine, quickly getting impatient. When I back off, her pelvis bucks, her body begging for me on its own.
Aligning myself at her pussy again, I push myself in, only letting myself about halfway inside her but she still takes my breath away. Just as she’s about to let out a sigh of relief, I pull out of her again.
“Stop…” she whines. “Stop teasing me so much.” I chuckle with her—I guess I should get to the good stuff. “Please…please stop teasing me so much.”
I concede and when I’m finally fully inside her, everything feels so…much. It’s all so much. I feel like I’ve never felt before, like nothing has ever had any impact before her, like nothing will ever feel as good until we’re together again. I bend at my waist, supporting myself with my elbows around her face and her eyes flutter shut.
“Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” I say. “We don’t have much time.”
When she opens her eyes and looks into mine, still nothing matters—not that she can’t see me without the veil lanterns, not that I could disappear from her view any minute, not that we could never truly be together. The way she feels overshadows all of that.
We don’t have much time, I remind myself. I sink deeper inside her, digging my face into her neck.
“Look at me,” she reminds me and I follow her instructions. We find a rhythm we both like, desperately thrusting in and out of her. “Kiss me…kiss me please,” she whispers. Our lips meet furiously as my hips dig into hers. “I need to feel you as much as I can,” she says. “Before I can’t anymore.” Resting her arms against my lower back—right below my wings—she squeezes around me, rubbing her hands up and down my waist. Delicately and hesitantly, she slides her hands up, letting her hands rest gently where my wings meet my skin.
There’s a vulnerability to it I wasn’t expecting. It’s not something I’ve thought about before—no one’s ever touched me like that there before, not even another faerie. My breath catches when her fingers trace the delicate ridge where my wings connect to my body. I shudder, the sensation overwhelming and pleasant. Her eyes widen, searching mine, unsure if she’s crossed a line.
“Is this okay?” she asks softly, her voice trembling.
I press my forehead to hers, nodding. “It’s okay,” I respond. “More than okay.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, her thumbs brushing lightly against the base of my wings.
“You won’t,” I promise, though my voice is raw, barely audible. “You couldn’t.”
Her lips find mine again, gentler this time, like her touch softened the urgency between us. The rhythm slows, turning into something deeper, more deliberate. Her hands never stray far from my wings and the trust in her touch makes my chest ache in the best way. In this moment, she sees me—not just with her eyes, but as someone she wants to hold onto, even when she knows she can’t forever.
“You feel,” she gasps. “I can’t—”
“I know, baby…” I sigh. “I know.” I silence her whimpers with my mouth, swallowing any whines that escape past her lips. I argue with myself trying to decide if I should close my eyes to savor how she feels, never leaving her lips or if I should keep them open to make sure I commit the sight of her underneath me to memory. Either way is a win for me to be fair.
Breaking the kiss, I trail my lips all over her body, tasting every inch of her. She’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever tasted before, slightly salty and warm against my tongue, different from the typical sweetness of other faeries. Every time I press my lips to her, I kiss away a hardship. I kiss away the stress in her shoulders, kiss away the problems she faces in her day-to-day life, kiss away any anxieties she feels. I’m desperate to make her feel good, to remind her that none of that matters here. With me.
When I flick my tongue over her nipple, her back arches, a gasp following her movements. I keep my thrusts steady, feeling her release building up in her stomach. I watch as her tummy muscles tighten then she desperately reaches for my hair, pulling me closer so our bodies are pressed together again. Her arms are wrapped around my torso and I can feel her clenching around me, teetering on the edge of something incredible.
“Soobin—” she gasps. “Don’t—” Her back arches. “Hmm…I’m close,” she says, a smile evident in her voice. “Please, please…” I don’t think she even knows what she’s begging for anymore. Begging for anything—my cock, my hands, my lips, a release.
Then, her nails dig into my lower back as she bites my shoulder, groaning loudly against my skin as she comes around my cock, pussy pulsating around me as she whimpers and whines through it.
“Oh my god,” she pants and just as she starts to twitch from overstimulation, I slow my movements, peppering her neck and face with kisses. She catches her breath, whispering incoherent things in my ears, things like my name, swears, giggles.
“Use me,” she whispers. I hum in question. “Use me to make yourself feel good.” I lift her legs, pressing them toward her chest, letting me reach the deepest parts of her. And everything about her feels incredible. Pounding into her quickly, I squeeze one of her tits with one hand and use the other to hold her waist in place.
It doesn’t take long for something inside me to twist and turn, begging to be snapped so I can fill her up. My stomach ties itself into too many knots as a white hot fire burns in the pit of it. The noises she’s making adds fuel to the fire, burning and burning until I can’t hold back anymore. With a few final thrusts, everything inside me breaks, like it’s all been building until this moment. I make a conscious effort to take my time and feel everything, thinking about how her pussy feels wrapped around my cock, how her tit feels in my hand, what she smells like, what she looks like. Everything is magic.
As I catch my breath, I pull out of her so slowly she shivers and I watch as my cum spills out of her while she giggles bashfully. I panic as I realize I didn’t prepare to clean up. Why didn’t I prepare for clean-up? She finds that little piece of fabric she was wearing earlier—what was it called again?—and uses them to wipe herself clean before folding them meticulously to store in her bag.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Eh…” she hums. …Eh? “Just kinda bittersweet is all, you know?” I shake my head in disappointment. “No, no!” She runs her fingers through my hair, looking at me sweetly. “That was amazing.” She kisses me deeply. “I should’ve started with that. I’m sorry.”
“You swear?”
“Of course,” she sighs. “That was incredible. It’s just…”
“I know,” I say. “How much time do we have left, you think?” Averting her eyes from mine, she looks down to fiddle with her thumbs.
“You’re already starting to fade.”
“Then look at me,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Look at me until you can’t anymore.” She chuckles, bringing her eyes up to meet mine. We stare at each other, running our hands over each other’s bodies until we’ll no longer be able to feel the other. Once the Veil of Touch separates our hands again, we hesitantly get dressed during the last few minutes before the Veil of Sight and Sound completely separates us. She pulls her dress back over her head, closing off my view from her.
We sit again, facing toward each other, anxiously waiting until I fade from her view. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. I start to reach for her, until I remember I can’t touch her.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Soobin,” she sniffles. I scoot closer to her.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she gestures between us. “Only seeing you when I’m on some kind of high from those mushrooms? This would never work. I can’t just…not see or hear you when I’m sober. I can’t—this isn’t—” Her words puncture my lungs and I can’t breathe. The ache in her voice echoes into my chest and I hate these fucking Veils. What’s the point in them anyway? Can’t they be destroyed?
“Don’t say that,” I plead.
She shakes her head, tears spilling over as she wipes at her cheeks with trembling hands. “I can’t keep falling deeper for you, only to lose you every time the spell fades. It’s breaking me apart.”
My throat tightens. “You’re not losing me. I’ll always be here. Always. I promise.”
“But I won’t really be here, will I?” she says, her voice cracking. “I won’t ever be in the right state of mind when we’re together.”
Her words hang heavy in the air and all I can hear is the soft babble of the creek. I try to reach for her again, forgetting again I can’t. My hand hovers uselessly in the air before falling back to my side.
“There has to be another way,” I say, desperation creeping into my voice. “Something we haven’t tried. A way to get rid of them so we can be together.” She looks at me, her expression a mixture of longing and heartbreak.
“And if there isn’t? What then? Do we keep doing this forever?”
Leaning closer, I say, “You’re worth it.”
Her face crumples, and she presses her hands to her face as if to shield herself from my words. “Soobin, I—” I know the edges of her vision are starting to blur, the Veil is about to take me from her. Again. “Don’t go,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“I’m not leaving you,” I say. “Not really. I’ll always be here. Waiting.” And then I know I’m gone by the sound of her cries. I turn the water a rich, warm shade of yellow with deep golden and earthy undertones—turmeric—so she knows I’m still there with her. She stands slowly, turns and starts to walk away but stops a few steps in, she looks back, somehow right into my eyes.
‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis In a world where everything is sugary and sweet, it is always fun to throw in a little twist. Quiet and tired Lemon Drop finds himself struggling to keep up with the day to day of single-parent life. Knocking on Angel Cake's door, begging for more than just help, might take care of two of his problems.
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warnings 🔞!!! fairytale au, lemon drop!soobin, angel cake fem!reader, slight spit kink, spit and cum as flavored aphrodisiacs, not really but chubby reader implied bc angel cakes body is soft and described as cake (skin indents and takes a few seconds to bounce back), mentions of masturbation (f! and m!), hand job, oral (m!rec), virginity loss, breeding kink, corruption kink, biting, cumplay/eating/snowballing, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry
⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 8.9k . ݁₊ ⊹
၄၃ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: new emotion- the aces
an: ive never been so happy to post a fic before! this was so very fun to work on with my moots. im honored to have worked alongside some absolutely incredible writers- actually wild that you let me in on this when you guys are just so amazing im a little dazed lol. and it was so fun to read everyones fics early and go back and forth on little ideas we found would benefit each others works. this was one of the best things to do and im so thankful for mae and her mind,,go read everyone elses fics pls pls pls they are so so good. anyways love my friends <333
[m.list] [strawberry shortcake m.list]
Angel Cake loved a routine. Most things could be broken down into a neat list of checkpoints, a simple to-do list set up like the recipe for a good day. She would get to the store early, prep the tables, and make sure all the clothes were neat enough for when she opened the door. Sometimes a new shipment would come in and she would take her time checking off every box as she added the new items to her inventory. She loved folding all the shirts up, stacking them, lining them all so neatly, and keeping them color-organized.
It wasn't until an hour later that the store officially opened for the day, the sweet buttery scent from the town's shops wafting in through the doors. Angel Cake would sit behind the register looking through catalogs to pick out new things to order, helping customers when they filtered in and lulled around the shop admiring her cute displays. Almost an hour after opening is when her favorite customer arrived. “Strawberry!”
She loved to shop, everything she wore was hand-selected by Angel, perfectly picked out from the catalog with her in mind. Even the pale blue shirt worn by Kai was bought within these four walls. The sweet blueberry boy gave a shy wave, apple dumpling, strawberry’s little sister, running right past the two of them to her favorite section in the store.
“I brought you your share from the bake sale,” the cream-colored box carefully held in hand. It was one of the small things Angel looked forward to, the soft cake and cream, the first bite of sweetness. “They took a little longer than expected to make but they turned out so good,”
Kai flushed a deep shade of blue, the color only highlighted by the blue strands of his hair. Even Strawberry was blushing, her eyes tacking onto apple dumpling to avoid looking at angel cakes questioning glance. “Berry why don't you help Dumpling pick out a new school dress, I see angels gotten some new ones in,”
It was all it took for Kai to follow after the giggling child, leaving Angel and Strawberry alone. “You won't believe the weekend I've had,”
“Was it beomgyu? I hear he went to the market for the first time in a month and acted so bitter over Cherry’s jam,”
“No no nothing like that, I just- berry and I-” If strawberry could get any more color to shade her cheeks she would, her flush traveling to her ears, “We kind of…”
“You kind of what?” Angel Cake had known for years that Blueberry had a crush on Strawberry. They spent most of their time together, strawberry baking and blueberry strumming his guitar. It wasn't news to Angel that either of them had fallen into a relationship without much effort.
“We kissed and then it wasn't kissing it was- well-” she was struggling to find the right words, the images of the night before flashing in her eyes as she stumbled through the words. “It was so much more than kissing, the both of us were just insatiable and he just- he tasted so good,”
“Tasted? Like when you kissed?” Angel tilted her head as if that would tip the right information into the right spot for her to understand. Tasting someone did not necessarily sound all too fun, she could picture the underwhelming flavor of blueberries and didn't find it appealing at all. Angel was never really a fan of how plain they could be, although she would never confess that to Strawberry who couldn't stop herself from remembering the flavor as if it was spilling right back onto her tongue.
“Not exactly-” but it was all Strawberry could say before the two of you turned to the sound of apple dumping giving a shout.
“Meringue!” the little blonde, dimpled-cheeked child, giggling as she ran to meet her friend, exclaiming just as loud, “Dumpling!”
Everyone in all of Strawberry Land knew exactly how close the two little girls were. Spending hours joined at the hip, playing games, singing songs, and laughing enough to fill the sweetest of souls with the happiness shared between the two of them. Most times lemon meringue would find herself sprawled out on the living room floor, coloring with apple dumpling while angel cake and strawberry tested recipes in the kitchen. The two little girls being the best test testers, never afraid to say when they didn't like something.
Most times meringue was over because Blueberry was the perfect babysitter, teaching the girls how to play the guitar, and finding fun ways to keep them entertained. He kept them busy while Lemon Drop, meringue’s dad, was off at the local college teaching. Lemon drop soobin was always a bit bitter, the slight tinge to his personality always brought forward with his obvious sleepiness. His under eyes slightly bruised from the late hours he spent bent over books, grading papers, and chasing after his little sweet tart. Rumpled shirt half untucked from his pants, butter blonde hair mussed, and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Angel Cake could feel her stomach flutter at the sight, he looked unbelievably warm, the kind of person you wanted to slip into and cuddle up. His lazy blinking eyes tracked around the sweet cream shop, deeply breathing in the sugary air.
Soobin wanted a nap, the warmth of the shop hugging him the second he breached the doorway. It was the favorite shop on the strip, the scent pulling him in amongst the rest of the fruity temptations. Buttery warmth hinted with vanilla cream beckoned him in that direction every time. It was easy to get lost in thought and follow his footsteps right to your door without realizing it when he followed his instincts. With an excuse to step inside, he could settle his craving without shyly backing away from the doorway, tinted pink from the recurring embarrassment of finding the shop irresistible. It was okay when Meringue was with him, but when he was alone, gazing through the sugar glass window to see angel cake folding or hanging clothes, it was a little more awkward.
He wasn't particularly known as the fondest resident in strawberryland. He was known to fight back, the sting of his arguments leaving people with a bitter impression of him. It was something that was expected of the debate professor, teaching the people how to stand up for themselves and find the proper form to an argument.
Angel found him to always cut back the sweetness of the people who took his class, leveling out their need to please in a way that she knew people who didn't take his class found caustic. Working in such a closed shop she heard more than anyone else did in the street market, the stalls so open the voices carried over to one another. No secrets could be kept when the air picked up every sound, enough so that anyone could get burned when gossip traveled. It made her shop the gossip harbor, the walls soaking in the secrets enough so that it set the illusion that nothing would make it to the unknowing subject of conversation.
Just last week she heard the run-around rumor mill turning out stories of frosty puff and gingerbread taehyun. The occasional talk of lemon drop, he's just so sour, listing ways to prove someone wrong. Can't we all just get along and not fight? He must be teaching that poor sweetheart of his such nasty things.
It had made Angel roll her eyes. Who cared if he was giving the rest of Strawberry Land a backbone, it was needed in such a basket of softies. But Angel knew she was in the same boat, still a product of her environment, soobin had moved back after finding himself in a big city amongst the rich and decadent. Nothing like the homegrown bunch he had been born from.
Strawberry pinched angel's arm, her soft flesh dimpling at the draw to attention. It always took a second for Angel's skin to bounce back from a tight hold, easily squashed like the cake from which she was named. “It wasn’t just kissing it was- I don't even know how to describe it, we tasted each other in places I never thought to before,”
“Like where?” it felt absurd to think of putting angel's mouth anywhere besides the mouth of a lover, maybe the back of their hand. Strawberry fiddled with the loose ribbon she used to tie a bow on the shortcake box, tugging the strand until it neatly fell away. Even for her name, Angel had never seen strawberry so pink, from ear to ear as she swallowed. “Down there,” her eyes flickered down to Angel's zipper, popping up just as quickly to see if Angel understood what she was saying.
“Berry!” Angel whisper-shouted, shocked, and intrigued all at once. Angel wasn't too dense, she understood to some extent how it worked but never thought about their being a flavor, or even that your mouth was used for more than just kissing.
“Angel, I don't even know how to describe how good it tasted- better than this,” she held up the short plump cake, the sweet cream swirled on top and donned with a little strawberry heart. “And it's hard to taste any better than this, I mean it's more addictive than sugar,”
It seemed hard to believe, especially when Angel sunk her teeth into the light dessert. The warmth of the sponge still lingers in between the ripples of fresh fruit. The frosting was her favorite part, dotting her upper lip in the clear mark of overindulgence, the creamy whips making her softly moan.
The sound echoed in the shop, just loud enough to be heard under the giggles of the girls, talking out planned outfits to wear to school tomorrow, but it didn't catch Kai’s attention, only catching the ear of lonely Lemon Drop Soobin. He watched the way Angel wiped at her mouth, sucking her thumb clean before rolling her eyes, “Hard to believe,”
“Well, you won't know until you try,” Strawberry muttered, closing the box of sweets and tying the bow back up.
“Ew no, I hate to say it but blueberry is kind of a flavorless fruit-” Angel Cake started looking over to where soobin and Kai stood. Angel stuttered in her speech, cheeks flushed and shoulders straightening under Soobin’s piercing gaze. Strawberry not even noticing the hiccup, “No! Not with Kai, anyone else but him, I mean it, Angel, it was something else,”
Soobin quirked a brow, Angel's cheeks deepening in color. It didn't help that he was looking at her with her train of thought derailing in the direction of a lovely open pool of crisp lemonade. She could just smell the citrusy freshness that followed after him, the scent that made her perfectly aware of how different they were, and forced her to face the recollection that she wanted him in a horribly needy way.
She wondered exactly what he would taste like, obviously lemony, but would he be more sweet or sour? Fresh or bitter? He was the opposite of sweet little blueberry who was now clapping at the choice of dresses the girls had picked out. Lemon drop was a streak of verbena-washed clarity in a town full of half-baked sweet tarts. She wanted him to wash over her and teach her things she never would have known without him, open her pallet to more than just the sweets found in a shop just like Strawberry said. Because as much as she talked down on the people around her, she was just as close to them, still grappling with the niceties of sprouting out in a field of pushovers. But she had time to bake, enough so that she knew she wanted more than just a dollop of sweetness to finish her off. She needed the honesty of someone who would be just as bitter as she was sweet, someone who had left and come back, someone who knew exactly what she wanted and had achieved it themself. Only now all she could think about was what exactly you had to do for a taste of anything at zipper level.
“You know, I heard he's looking for a sitter, especially because Kai is helping me so much at the stand. It's great to have Dumpling around but sometimes following her and meringue is a bit much,” Strawberry added, looking right past soobin to where Blueberry was fussing over apple dumplings shoelaces.
“Really?” soobin had broken eye contact to tend to little lemon meringue, carrying the outfits she's picked out in one arm and pushing back his hair with a ruddy knuckled hand. She watched the two of them like she was memorizing her favorite recipe, taking the time to run over every line, connecting the little bullet point dimples the two of them shared. Even when Strawberry took her bunch with her out the door, leaving the two of them alone at her counter, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her features.
“Don't you just love it, angel? It's so bright and pretty and does a perfect twirl when I spin,” meringue is nearly a spitting image of lemon drop, the only difference is her hair doesn't have the classic butter blond but a sun-washed version, the roots starting as a toasted tan color before fading out. But even then it's impossible to say they weren't related. Holding onto the edge of the checkout counter, hand still fluttering over the dress she's picked. Soobin reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, grinning with the edge of his mouth as he watches her look up at Angel with her big brown eyes, dimple so deep in his cheeks she's sure she can swim in it. “It's perfect,” Soobin mutters.
For someone who has been pushed into the bitter pile by the rest of the town, Angel finds it hard to believe someone like the man before her could be anything but comforting. It was in his name, lemon drop, so nostalgic, in and of itself an acquired taste.
“I know you think that but I was asking angel,” meringue scrunched up her nose in that little kid's way, the light dusting of faded freckles tucked into the creases like a bunched blanket.
“I love it, would it even be a good dress without a perfect twirl? It's why I make sure all of the dresses in here look good when you spin,” Angel folds the items neatly sliding them into the gift bag. “Here you go,”
Soobin passes out the exact change, hand brushing angels as he lets the money go, surprised by the warmth radiating off the soft contact. Just as comforting as the alluring scent in the streets he shouldn’t have expected any less. Meringue is elated to be handed her bag giggling to herself as she thanks Angel and her dad. “Next time I see you I hope I can see your perfect twirl and soob- lem-” Angel stumbles over the right name, never really having spoken to him personally besides a few light greetings in passing.
“Soobin is fine,” his grin was a mix of amusement and arrogance that whipped Angel around in a mix of unrelenting jealousy. The ease with which he found himself walking through life was something angel only wished to grasp, and here he was, with confidence written into a single smile.
“Okay, soobin, if you ever need help after five I'm always free to watch her when you need work done. Strawberry was just telling me you could use a hand, "Angel says it so innocently, eyes blinking up to him in a way that he can't think about too closely. It takes everything in him not to look down at the very hand she speaks of, even if it's metaphorically. Because he could use a hand, specifically hers wrapped around him revealing the stress he was feeling in ways that he knew only she would be able to take care of. But it was too much to ask in a place like this, too much to think about when he was in public, and certainly too much when his child was waiting by the door for him to take her to her playdate.
“Thank you I could- um- really use the help,” he didn't know what to do with his hands, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose only for them to slip right back down, hand running through his already messy hair. It was the most angel had ever seen him discomposed, more like a stuttering school boy instead of a college professor who made school boys cower.
“Okay just let me know, you know where you can find me,”
It was only a few days later when soobin came by to ask for Angel's assistance, meringue hot on his heels as he shuffled into the shop right before closing. “I know it's last minute but Kai was supposed to take her to Strawberry’s house but turns out he cant and-”
“It's okay,” Angel chuckled, “I know the two of them have been so finicky with plans recently it's no problem at all. I just need to make sure the doors are locked up and then we can go,” and so they waited while you twisted the key, checking the knob twice, and shuddering from the slight chill in the air. In only a few days, Angel knew the gingerbread cobblestones would be coated in the thin glaze of the first frost, dollops of shoveled snow pushed up against her shop looking like misplaced piles of spilled frosting.
Lemon meringue ran ahead, her ballet flat-covered feet skipping between each stone like a made-up hopscotch map only she could see. Instinctively, Angel walked a step closer to soobin, bumping his arm with every other step they took toward his house at the end of the lane. Angel knew this was one of the reasons why he was accepted more than his other bitter labeled fellows, he lived in town, and went to town meetings even if he didn't add to the majority opinions. If he lived down on the outskirts, house kissing the woods or worse buried deep inside them, he wouldn't have a chance of being accepted in the way that he has been. It gave Meringue the best opportunity to find friends and build a relationship with the community before they ostracized her for being anything but sweet because of the name she carried.
Pushing open the door to their modest place, Angel was surprised by the solace laced into the brown woods and honey-colored accents thrown around the house. Stacks of leather tomes litter tidy shelves, and little dolls, and figurines placed by meringue are known only because of how high each item reaches. It smelled of freshly picked lemons and the cozy baked smell of warmed sugar. It was just late enough for the sun to be setting in through the gauzy curtains, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Angel wasn't to bask in the light, curl up like a kitten on the plush couch, tucked in with the knitted blanket tossed over the back like an invitation.
Meringue shot forward, hand wrapped around Angel's wrist tugging her past the living room and to the overly saturated room that could only belong to a child as happy as her. “Look, angel! I can show you all my princess dresses, we can do a fashion show!” She pushed open a trunk decorated like a little carriage fit to wheel a queen in, the lid holding back all the tulle and silk, only to now spill out like an overstuffed donut.
Soobin chuckled by the doorway, knowing exactly how his daughter was. She would keep Angel entertained enough for the both of them, needing no help to find something to do. It was the only thought in his head until he caught sight of Angel's wrist, his little meringue’s handprint still indented on her soft skin. He watched in amazement the way it slowly rose back into shape like a cake filling the tin in the oven. The thoughts running in his head were nothing to be proud of, images of his hands on the plush of angel tummy driving him mad. He had to turn away, leaving them alone in the room to focus on the stack of papers he had on the edge of his desk to dull the image of his handprint on the crease of her hip, dented into her thigh.
It was hard to get work done as is, his mind always fluttering through the tasks at hand, the next paper to grade, the time to pick up meringue, when he would be able to fit in the time to sleep. Now all he can think about is sweet cream dotting the smooth expanse of buttery cake. He hardly got through the few papers waiting for him, red pen in hand, staining the tips of his fingers as it sat motionless waiting for him to write. Hours passed, the soft laughter and chatting heard through the cracked door, every so often a glimpse of yellow and pink crossed in front of his field of vision, both angel and meringue going from the living room and back.
It made soobin happy to not worry that Meringue was having a good time, sometimes she fell shy especially when not near Apple Dumpling. She even had to warm up to Strawberry, only becoming her bubbly self when she and dumpling were alone, hiding behind her closest advisers in the face of someone new. But Meringue had always wanted to talk to Angel Cake even before they had known her to be best friends with Strawberry. His sweet lemony girl's eyes go wide and glittery seeing the expanse of clothes held in Angel's shop, do you think she gets to try on anything she wants? Look at how cute she dressed Daddy! I wish I had her job.
Every little comment only showed how deeply Meringue wanted to play dress up, more so play with Angel. He's sure even if he had asked for Angel to watch meringue in the shop she would have just as much fun as she was having going around the house now. He loved how comfortable Meringue found herself around Angel, and how Angel accepted his girl with open arms.
Time slipped past soobin without realizing the laughter had faded into hazy silence, more than half his stack of papers cleared through and marked to be returned to waiting students. He ran his fingers under his eyes, glasses set askew from the rubbing, sighing into the empty study. Soobin didn't notice Angel until he smelled her, that wonderfully delicate sweet smell of vanilla sweetness making him hold back his groan. He had thought it had only been the smell of the shop. The cake-like walls were made to pull in customers like the cinnamon scent of a bakery wafting through the streets, beckoning all who breathed in the air. Maybe Angel smelled so delicious because of working all day, the scent rubbing off and sticking to her hair, her clothes, her skin.
“She's fast asleep, knocked out almost as soon as she laid down to read her bedtime book,” Angel leaned against the edge of soobins desk, hip digging into the wood, fingers sprawled over the skewed pages of work. To Soobin, she was a dazzling masterpiece of messy hair and flushed skin, dress short enough for him to see the way the desk was pinching her thigh.
“Thank you,” the words twisted into a whisper from how dry his mouth had gotten just from looking at a single strip of skin. Licking his lips he tried to swallow, finding something to say besides the hollow echo of words he had managed.
“Oh it's nothing really, she's a doll,” Angel's eyes danced over the pages at her hand, “you lived in the city right?” even just the mention had soobins mind going back to the dull colorless house he found himself in when studying for his degree. It made him sick to think about raising meringue in a place like that, she was why he had moved back home, not caring how off-put the rest of the town was about him now.
“Yes, I did,” he sat back in his chair, one elbow still resting on the desk and the other laid out on the armrest. He was half turned to angel, lower because of sitting and now having her tower over him. And her damn thigh was there right next to him, knuckles twitching to brush over the smooth expanse of skin.
“Did you like it?” Angel had tipped her voice down to a whisper, the dim light needing the change when she had decorated the question in enough hope and worry. It wasn't as if Soobin’s answer would change much, she knew she dreamed of a city out there bright enough to blind the thought of home but it was hard to leave when it was all she ever knew, she didn't even know if she truly wanted to leave.
“I liked it enough,” soobin bit at his bottom lip, worrying over the question. It was as honest an answer as he could give. “But it wasn't home, not for me, not for meringue. There is nothing quite like the comfort of home,”
“Like this place you have here,” Angel lifted her chin, looking around the packed study with even more books and bobs. “That couch of yours looks too cozy not to nap on,”
“You should see my bed,” it was a quick response, one that didn't pass the filter connected to the bit of his mouth that kept him from saying anything embarrassing. “I- I didn’t mean it like that-”
But Angel didn't get the innuendo embedded into the words, she just nodded, “I should, I bet it's just as warm as the rest of this place, you have it at just the right temperature,”
The lack of sleep was making him loose, his finger drifting out to press right into the outside of Angel's thigh, pushing against the soft plush of her skin just enough to feel the heat from her, “you sure it's not you? You seem to keep warm enough,”
“Oh no, take it from a cake to know exactly when they walk into the right level of warmth. This is perfectly cozy,”
“You do feel…lively,” soobin drags his finger up Angel's thigh, reaching right to the hem of her dress, stopping right before it could go any further. The line he had drawn was like the roadmap to the realization that he should not be touching her like this. But it was incredibly hard to remember his mind when he felt this hazy; drunk off the lack of sleep and the sweet smell of sugary cake.
Angel felt the pad of his finger slip right up her spine, sink into her nervous system, and cloud her mind. Even if he had pulled away, flexing his hand as if that would sink the feeling of her warm skin into his palm, she could swear the touch was tattooed right there forever now.
She couldn’t forget it, not on the walk home, not when she showered the day away, not even when she climbed into bed. The moonlight slipped in through her lacy curtains, the soft gleam pulling her mind right back to the study. Her finger pressed right where she remembered him, circling the spot like she was tracing the shape of the yellowing moon on her thigh.
Even the moon made her think of him, a little lemon drop in the sky, her bed warm enough to picture what it would be like to snuggle up in his. Her fingers were too soft and not at all how she needed them to be to pick up her illusion. Pressing them harder into her thigh she felt an ache between her legs, centered right at the heart of her.
Angel had never felt such a pull to touch herself, not until the butter blonde boy was there just out of reach, so close to palming her thigh instead of just using the tip of his fingers. She wanted his hands all over her, they didn't even need to be warm, she just needed him. Needed his finger pressed on the tormentor's bud that called for him. But for now, she would have to make do, her hand pushed into her shorts feeling along the wet seam of herself never knowing that her body would crave someone so bad without even having tasted them like strawberry had said.
But the only thing on her mind was lemon drop, her hips rolling into her hand, the soft moans drawn out from a mouth so unfamiliar with this sound. Her body told her the way to move, and where to seek peak pleasure until she was a gasping mess, creaming around her dainty digits. Angel Cakes' new discovery was a calamity, highlighting a deep desire she didn't know she could hold within herself. A catastrophe; soobin had been the one to knock a tray of glasses to the floor, already so recklessly close to the edge until one push sent them shattering, angel couldn't clean the glass fast enough, left to never be the same again.
Soobin was no better, he was a cracked vase slowly leaking out in drips of sun-melted ice, he had to hold it together for work, for home; hastily wrapping fingers around the seeping seams only for his thoughts to pour out between his fingers. Because angel cake was spinning in his living room, twirling around with his daughter, giggling until they were a dizzy pile on the floor. His office door just cracked as he caught sight of angels' sweet lacy white panties, clinging to the curve of her ass. If he had knocked over the tray of her sanity, angel cake had taken a hammer to his fragile vase, smashed it until it was powered, and easily passed as dusting sugar on the treats in strawberry’s shop.
Soobin felt his addiction take its toll on him, every night the image of angel cake washed over his sleeping mind until he was reduced to nothing but a needy muddled mess of thruming joints. He couldn't go one day without his hand wrapped around his cock, working his wrist until he was spilling dribbles of cum onto sheets that needed her in them. It was worse when his order from strawberry came in, Kai handing the box over right at the doorway, picking up Meringue for her sleepover with Dumpling. The smell of the shortcake filled the house as soon as he shut the door behind them.
He was embarrassed to have such an obsession with angel cake, sure that she would cringe away from his desperation for her. So desperate he was standing in the kitchen with one hand down his pants and the other digging into the soft sponge of one of the cakes just brought over. The cream and crumb squished out between his fingers as he came, moaning into the empty space until the sound reverberated around him, the smell of her dancing around his body. He wanted her, needed her.
Soobin didn’t even remember the trip to Angel's shop's door, his nose pulling him along the crumb-dotted cobblestone, leading him right to the front doors, so willing to be eaten by the magic-laced girl inside. He could see her through the frosted glass windows, the closed sign turned to signal the end of her shift but she was leaning over the stand of shirts, fixing them in the way she wanted, her end-of-day routine. He could smell her, that buttery sweetness addicting, making him delirious. He wanted to sink his hands into her warm flesh, hold her tight enough so that if anyone saw they would know it was his hands that had been on her, that she was his, and his alone.
He pushed open the unlocked door, the ding of the bell signaling his entrance, that glance over her shoulder ruining him once and for all. “Hi! Did I forget I was supposed to come over tonight? I can pack up real quick or she can stay here-”
“No, blueberry took her- i- i-” he was struggling with the words, a stuttering fool standing in the middle of the shop like he'd come to beg. And he had, he would beg her till the end of his days to have one taste, to have her tear into him like she was peeling back the layers of his sanity. “I need you,”
“Oh?” she tilted her head to the side, the pure look of innocence smashing into him like a wave. He wanted to stain her, fill her up, and call her his.
Soobin struggled to swallow, every breath filling his lungs with her, she was right there on the tip of his tongue. “I need you,” his hand reached down to the bulge sitting against his thigh, hard, thick, and weeping for her.
If Angel Cake hadn't spoken to Strawberry about the zipper-level kisses she would have been confused beyond belief. But it had been all she could think of since then, what it would be like to lick up his body and know exactly what it was that made people so addicted. Because she was grappling with the fact that she was already falling down the rabbit hole of need, to finally taste him would be like crashing right into another world. “I don't know- I don't know how-” she was flushed all over from the confession because she didn't want him to leave, if he needed her she would mold herself to fit and fix any problem he had. Her lack of knowledge wouldn't hold her back, if he was a teacher she would be his best student.
“I'll show you, tell you everything you need to know,” he snapped the button on his pants, undoing the zipper releasing enough pressure to let out the most sinful noise angel had ever heard. She could feel her panties flooded with the cream that had been leaking from her for days now, always tied to the thought of him. If he felt even a fraction of how she did, Angel would make sure to take the best care of him.
“O-okay,” Angel Cake could feel her mouth water, her thighs pulling together, needing them closer to relieve the ache she felt. Soobin locked the door behind him, tugging Angel to a spot behind a rack of clothes. “Here get on your knees in front of me,”
Angel was fast to listen, sinking to the ground in front of him, hands placed neatly on the tops of her thighs, looking up at soobin with those wanting eyes. Just thinking about those plush lips warping around his cock was taking him out, and watching the tip of her tongue wet her mouth was excruciating. Soobin reached into his pants, pulling out his veiny shaft, the sheer size making Angel's eyes widen.
She didn't know what she was expecting but she was not expecting to feel empty at the sight. The top of him was shiny with a layer of leaking pre-cum. Soobin ran his thumb across his slit collecting the wetness to swirl around the tip, moaning at the way Angel's mouth fell open without realizing. “You can touch it,” he nodded, watching how Angel was gripping her skirt, crinkling the fabric trying to hold herself back.
Angel lifted a shaking hand, fingers brushing the side of him, amazed at the softness so much that she wrapped her hand around him and gave a tug. Soobins chest rumbled, his hand reaching out for the rack next to him, the hangers clattering from the force of his grip. “Sorry-”
“No, no you're doing good, just like that, slow and easy,” he nodded, biting back his moan when her wrist flicked again, “you can squeeze a little harder,” he whispered, his free hand finding itself around hers, showing her just the right amount of pressure he was looking for. Soobin's hand guided Angel's until he was using her hold as if it was his own, speeding up the pace.
Angel watches in amazement as soobins head rolls back, his brows pinched as he whimpers. She's never wanted to taste something or someone so bad, and now, with him right in front of her, she can't resist the temptation for what it is. Angel sits up just enough so that she can press a sweet kiss to his tip, a string of pre-cum still connecting her lips to him. Soobin lets out a shocked gasp, watching the way she licks her lips clean.
The taste is subtle, the sweet and sour mixed together only to draw Angel back in for more. She didn't even know what she was doing, compelled by the flavor to envelop him fully, the flat of her tongue licked up and around to collect more of the addictive fluid. Soobin’s knees go weak at the warmth of her mouth, hips jerking to try to chase the feeling, “Oh fuck just like that,” his hand still holding hers, working over the rest that wasn't pressed into her mouth.
Angel cake moaned around him, his bitter lemon taste mixing with the sweetness from his pre-cum. She wanted to swallow him whole, take more of him down. Soobin couldn't even think anymore, Angel's mouth trying to work further down, her hand stopping right at his base. Angel hollows her cheeks, sucking him down like its instinct, soobins groan taking over the silence and joining the soft wet noises. Soobins restraint breaks, overwhelmed by the way her mouth molds to his cock so perfectly, his mind working to imagine it's her waiting cunt. She takes him down so deep he can feel the back of her throat. It's enough for him to wrap his hands into her hair, fingers wrapping softly around her skull as he fucks into her mouth without warning. Angel moans, the vibrations going straight up his cock and making his balls clench. Her hands reach out for his thighs to keep herself steady, tears welling in her eyes, loving the newfound sensation.
Angel Cake doesn't know what to expect, lashes fluttering as he loses himself in the feel of her. It's a shock when his thrusts become erratic, his body trembling with a deep groan, sweet lemon cream spilling on her waiting tongue. Angel tries to swallow, unable because he keeps going, fucking his cum right into her still willing mouth, spurt after spurt following until he has to pull away. Angel gasps, sucking in gulps of air, mouth a mess of dripping lemon custard and saliva.
If she had thought the pre-cum had been addicting, she didn't know the effect the real deal would have on her. Blindly, she wiped the corner of her mouth, licking the cream she'd collected, humming as if she'd just taken a bite of the richest lemon bar. The sight and sound made soobin impossibly more obsessed with her, fingers going down her cheek, pulling her attention to his awestruck expression.
His head was clearing but it didn't stop the infection of her as it slipped well past his mind, into his bones, into his soul. He had heard about how easy it was to save a fruit tree if you cut away the rot fast enough; right at first sight. Angel cake had taken hold of every thorny branch on his tree and twisted herself in the sparse foliage, so deeply intertwined now that he wasn't sure there was ever a time when it would have been an easy snip to rid himself of this fever.
Angel Cake's face was a glistening mess of wetness when he squished her cheeks with one large hand, her pouting lips so kissable and pink. “Look at you,” a surrealistic sigh caught on the edge of his tone. He leaned down, needing a taste of the two of them, the perfect combination of bitter and sweet, angel's sugary spit mixed with his lemony custard making him powerless. And when he pulled away, letting go of angel's cheeks, he watched the way her lips stayed puffy, the illusion of dimples still there as her skin rose back, flushed a petal pink. “Did I do good?”
“You did perfect,” soobin brushes his nose along the bridge of hers, his eyes closing, breathing her in. He wanted to tear into her, squish his fingers into her, and memorize every little action that brought out a sound. But in his post orgasm clarity, he noticed exactly what he had done. He had tainted this perfect angel, filled her with more than just bad ideas but had fully gone in and let his uncontrollable emotions take over.
Even when Angel Cake had gotten home later that night, she couldn't stop licking her lips. She was lying in bed, wriggling in the sheets trying and failing to find a comfortable position let alone sleep. Her hand was stuck between her legs, on the verge of tears for nothing working to cave in a hunger that she was only now painfully aware of. She hated that she was alone, hated it more than she knew the feeling of his hands on her, knew that those long fingers would have been perfect to fix her problem as easily as she had fixed his.
The hunger triggered a compulsion within her similar to the one soobin experienced on his walk to Angel’s shop, her feet carrying her through the streets, half-dressed in her silky lace pajamas. The lemon drop moon cast its path down the cobblestone to Soobin’s front door. The cold unfelt against Angel's warm skin, and when soobin opened the door he could see the steam rising off of her heated body. The haze of it mixed with the backlight of the moon made her look like a true angel waiting right at his front step, outlined in the glow. She hasn't even come in shoes, her thick socks slouched around her ankles, her shorts pinched at her waist, and one tank top strap down her shoulder. He could see her pebbled nipples through the thin material, his lips pursing at the thought of wrapping around them. “Angel?”
He couldn't tell if this was one of his dreams, the kind that left him reaching out in a bed she never saw. “I think I need you now,” she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed by the words, not when she had seen him in the same state, begging and just as needy. Soobin rushed to pull her inside, ready to get her wrapped up in something to keep her from freezing if that was possible for someone so warm. He hardly had the door closed when she was pulling him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him into her space. She needed to have him in her mouth again and soobin knew he wasn't going to turn her away. His hands slid down her back, fingers digging into the soft skin, groaning into her sugar-sweet mouth, the sound catching in the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down greedily.
Angel didn't know what to do with her hands, her mind shutting off and following their natural way, slipping into his hair, the strands tangling between her fingers, his lemony sweet kisses taking over her mind as he slowly kissed her. But Angel was impatient, whining and rubbing her thighs together.
“What is it baby? Tell me,” he kissed down her jaw, intoxicated by the smell of her, so much stronger when she was so hot against him.
Angel reached down for one of his hands, guiding it like he had done for her, pushing his fingers until they slipped right against the silk of her shorts, “it's so achy,” she whimpered, “and all I can do is think about you,”
She was like a freshly wrapped gift left on the front step, the label perfectly signed with his name and his name alone. A sinful treat he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into. He dragged his fingers along the seam of her, the silk already spotted with wetness, “you want me to take care of you?” the husk of his voice was thick in her ear like syrup.
“Please- please,” her nods are erratic, hips rolling trying to keep him right against her tender clit. Her pathetic cry echoes in the living room when he pulls his hand away. But he doesn't keep his hands away for long, dragging her to his room, having her fall to his bed, right where he's wanted her. Her knees fall open, the heels of her feet digging into the mattress. She's a vision of her namesake, mewling when soobin hooks his fingers into her waistband and takes down her panties and shorts, sliding them down her legs and peeling her socks off, leaving her bottom half exposed.
Soobin is caught at the sight of her gleaming cunt, leaking arousal the color of royal icing, creamy and sweet, looking as if she had been stuffed full of him already. Nothing could keep him from getting a taste. He fell to his knees like this was a place to beg for forgiveness. But he wouldn't be sorry, not after he started his feast. Soobin licked a bold stripe up from her entrance to clit, groan ripped from him with only one drop of her. He wrapped his arms under her legs, holding her open and watching how his fingers dented her flesh, the plush of her spilling between fingers itching to stay there and mold her as his forever.
Angel let out a sharp gasp the second his mouth was attached to her aching center, thighs trying to snap shut around his head, held in place and forced open as she arched her back. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her breathing only coming out when she slipped out moans. He was devouring her, licking her clean like he was enjoying the frosting before the cupcake, sucking deeply on her clit just to watch her tremble.
Soobin does not care about the mess he's making of her, face dripping with his Angel's cream, moans of delight vibrating against her puffy clit. He doesn’t even notice the way she's writhing beneath him, only that he's now faced with the most delicious meal he has ever had. Moaning into her, slurping up all that she has to offer trying to pull forth more of her sweet cream. And he didn't have to try hard, not when she needed him so bad already, the bubbling building in her lower belly so newfound and yet never before so intense. Angel cake feels like a balloon ready to pop, one deep long suck on her clit has her seeing stars, her orgasm washing over her as swiftly as a needle prick, causing her to come undone. The gush of her arousal keeps Soobin’s mouth right against her, his persistent licks only pulling him in more.
He was a desperate mess, working away at his pants, rutting into the mattress as if that would curb his insatiable hunger. He needed to be inside of her, filling her up with his lemon custard, fucking her senseless until she was begging to stay right here in his bed and never leave. He wanted that, to keep her as his, not just press his hand into her thigh and leave that lasting mark. No, he needed to claim her as his in the best, most lasting way. “Do you want me inside you Angel?” he pressed the flat of his palm into her pelvis, relishing in the way he felt himself sinking into her skin. “Right here, filling you up, making you mine-”
Angel had never felt so empty, not until he pointed it out, solving a problem she never thought she had. Her mewling response was a mix of pleas and whimpers. She didn't care what he did so long as she could have him near, and if he could fix the burn in her belly he could devour her just as well as tear her apart.
Soobin lifted Angel's legs enough so that the backs of her knees were slotted against his inner elbows, one hand reaching down to guide his dripping cock to her waiting entrance. Angel does not expect the pressure of being pushed into, her gasp caught on a half-open mouth of pure bliss. Every slow tantalizing inch stretches her out, her body instinctively clenching around him trying to suck him in. “Relax, baby,” he whispers, his hand sliding up her stomach, up under her tank top to reveal her breasts. He rubs at her skin, soothing her tense muscles until he's sunk all the way into the hilt, her body melting and molding around his.
Soobin waits, catching himself from letting go, letting their bodies adjust to each other. But Angel is impatient, rolling her hips, not even realizing she's trying to fuck back onto him, only that she needs some kind of friction. But soobin is slow to pull out and even slower to push back in, eyes connected to the spot they meet at. Her body was like clay beneath him, so easily shaped into the perfect temptation. Every drag in and out coated his cock in her cream, mesmerizing him, numbing his brain.
Angel could tell the difference in him, that split second that makes his eyes go hazy, hips snapping into hers making her body ripple from the force. “you were fucking made for me- do you feel how deep I am-“ he’s slamming into her, the lude sounds of their wetness mixing; echoing with their moans. All the veins in his hands straining from the hold on her soft sides.
He was pressed so deep into her she could feel him hitting a spot that made her hips sink, her hands reaching out to hold his hands, needing the comfort not knowing what was building inside her. so much more intense than when it’s her fingers or even just his mouth. “soobin im-im-“ she can’t even find the words looking for something that she didn’t know existed until just now.
“we can cum together- I’ll fill you up make sure to pump you full so you know exactly where I'm going to put our baby,” he moves his hand down to press his thumb to her clit, triggering her to jolt, the walls of her pulsing around him before she’s falling apart.
Angel's body is a tightening mess, her back arching, cheeks flushing as she comes undone for him. The pull of her body to his makes him shudder, his whole body falling against hers needing to be close, needing to smell the vanilla sweetness of her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he holds back his strangled moans. Slow languid thrusts push his lemon custard cum back into her, needing to make true to his promise to have her full of him and only him. Needing to mix together their cream for the perfect bake.
Neither of them knows what's happened to them, only that they are a tangle of limbs, wrapped up tight enough that Angel can still feel the pulse of his cock deep inside her, still pumping into her never having cum so much in his life before then.
Angel feels boneless when he pulls away, her whimper making him chuckle. “I just need to see your creamy pussy again,” the sight to behold better than before now that he knows the wetness is more his than hers. His fingers dragged through her sensitive cunt, collecting the mess to shove it back Into her, fucking her on his fingers for a second. He lifts his fingers in front of them showing Angel the sheer amount of cream coating the digits. “If I could bottle this flavor I would,” he licks them clean before leaning over to shove his tongue into her mouth, needing her to taste what he’s found as his new obsession.
Angel swallows down the cum, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, twisting legs and burrowing in closer. “you taste sweeter than I thought you would,”
“Did the thought of it keep you up?” he asks, nose brushing along the column of angel's throat. “because thinking of you while being alone in this bed is hell, I need both of my girls under my roof to feel complete,”
“both…” the sound of the word was heavy in her mouth. Not in an uncomfortable way but in a way a piece of chocolate sat on her tongue, melting and sweet, craving to place another one as soon as it was gone.
“Both.” The finality of the word is better than the buttery sheets he’s pressing her right back Into.
taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you so much @izzyy-stuff for helping edit this for me ily ily ily @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles for betareading this a bit, but special special thank you for mae who gave me a lot of these ideas in the first place, her perfect mind came up with the cake like reader with indenting skin and helped with the conversation with strawberry and angel <3
chubby chaser 최수빈 & fem r
･ (OTHER). he's a chubby chaser fr, chubby bodied reader, unprotected sex, pull out method, desperate and whiny soobin, perv soobin, otaku soobin, use of toys f rec, size diff/training, cosplay wearing, dry humping a bit, service top soob, they're both kinda subby, biting, lots of allusions to food, multiple orgasms f rec, pleaser soobin, fucking with the glasses on duh, he asks to fuck her thighs, mc is a bittt shy about her body, big dumb soobin, mentions of him jerking off to the thought of her, the body description is pretty vague but def plus-sized, cumming on belly, she pushes his buttons and he snaps, mentions of porn watching, pwp
ash: ahaha nooo soobin don't treat me like a confection, nooo hahah don't eat whipped cream straight off my body.. lollll... anyways! hi guys! this was written in a fit of pure hormones and it was not meant to be 7k but are we complaining...? go chubby chaser soobin go!! >.<;; this is not edited so give me a sec to sleep and i’ll get to it ♡!
Soobin’s good at keeping it cute, but the state of his room speaks otherwise. Busty figurines line his shelves and their big, sparkly eyes follow you. Most people’s heads would spin if they saw it. They’d try and fail at connecting the Soobin that appears in public and the bare truth of... Well. Him.
You sure did, the first time you had. A week ago. Poking your head in, it’s all that you were met with. Heads of pinks, blues, tiny tiny skirts, all an array against the backdrop of his decidedly dudeish decor otherwise. It felt like you had caught him jerking off, the way his ears went red and he sputtered and pleaded with you to just please go. You’re sure that the way you gaped, wide-eyed and stupefied, didn’t make him feel any better about it. But damn it, that’s just too good. He, your best friend, is an under wraps degenerate.
“Do you touch yourself to these?” you had asked him, covering your laugh with a hand because at least you had the conscience to not laugh right in his face. He had gone straight from red mortification to white and he snatched back the one you’d been turning over in your hands. It’s not like you were laughing at him, you guess. It’s more that you thought those ‘otaku’ shirts he wore lounging around the place were for ironic value, not… a precursor in plain sight to the state of his bedroom. To think that all that was stowed away behind that door that you’ve passed a hundred times like a rotten little secret.
What does it change? God, you wish you knew. The extent of your knowledge ends at the fact that you can’t quite look at him right in the eyes anymore without the thought flickering in the outskirts of your mind. Even as you sit curled up in his couch, littered with blankets that he kept because he knew that you liked them and would just steal from him anyway, and watch his back work in the kitchen.
How couldn’t you know? Literally how could it have sprung up on you like that? Are you a shitty best friend? But seriously. Soobin wasn’t a loser. He’s always been slow, easy nonchalance. You watch his forearms flicker as he tugs the freezer drawer open, full with muscle that’s never felt more at dizzying odds with what you imagined a dude that was into shit like that would have than it does now. The image it brings to mind of lanky, awkward limbs and a beard that crawls down the neck is not him. It’s frustrating. It’s been spinning in your mind, the thoughts bouncing off one wall just to hit another and then, like it has every day since you saw it, circling back.
It all boils down to one thought. The worst one, because it’s sticky and deeply unsettling. Because, since when did you start imagining what sort of stuff your best friend got off to? You wonder what the search bar of his go-to porn website looked like. You imagine what videos he gravitated toward, what about them had him clicking on them and then wrapping his fist around himself. It probably looks features something a lot like those figurines he has on display. You grimace.
Plopping down in an air of clean black pepper and musk, he offers you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Chunky Monkey’. A cheeky smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Still your Soobin, though.
“You got me ice cream?” you say, letting the sugar and cream melt on your tongue with a hum.
Soobin shoots you a glare. You have to snort. The question’s more irritating than genuine, and that’s why you asked it. When doesn’t he buy you ice cream? You never asked him to. If it’s, for whatever reason, what he wants to do though, that’s his money to spend. You’re blessed. “What are we watching?” he asks instead, taking up the remote in his hand from across the couch. The sleeves of his black cashmere sweater are bunched to his elbows.
“Dunno.” You lick off the spoon, tucking your legs to one side. “Probably some anime girls for you, though.” The words come out with a terrible, knowing lilt and a mean smile. You have to get the thoughts out from under your skin, purge them from your blood and put them out into the air so they can be more real and less like spiraling delusions. If you let the air settle on that too long, though, it’ll become heavy. And that’s also scary. Scarier, even. So you deflect. It’s freezing, anyway. Probably either the fact that it’s a crisp twenty degrees outside, or it’s the cold tub in your hands starting a slow creep into your bones. “What’s the heater set to?” you whine.
The way his gaze changes… Falters, even, on you. It turns into static electricity, standing the hairs on your arms and neck up with the weight of its presence. It flickers down to where you now realize your pale fluffy sweater has drooped off a plump shoulder so quickly that you might’ve blinked and missed it. But you didn’t, and you hate it. Because it makes all of this weirder. Your stomach goes up in a colorful explosion of butterflies and something that you should have stopped trying to poke three days ago while you were ahead.
Throat bobbing, Soobin laughs to himself with a bow of his head that brings his dark hair into his eyes. He shakes it all away and that plasticky smile almost looks barbed in the soft milky light of his living room. He’s prickled and gone red over countless jabs since that day, but something low in your tummy feels that it’s reaching a breaking point. You can see the strain beginning to tear at something he’s been keeping neat and tidy for a long, long time. And you just don’t know how to stop. It’s like sugar-high right on your tongue, sweeter than the sugar and the cream in your mouth as you blink at him and try to pin down just what exactly it is, sweeter than the flush in your cheeks that wholly at odds with your complaining about it being cold.
Speaking more to himself, he echoes a breathy, “Some anime girls…” The way he laughs over it makes you squirm, because it doesn’t sound like he really finds it funny at all. “Pick whatever you want. I don’t care.” Tossing you a blanket, the fat knitted one that cradles you right back, he crosses his arms and settles in. His head hits the back of the couch with a dull thump. It illustrates the line of his jaw and the muscle there, working like he’s chewing over something. You always did like his jawline. It was a sharp, male thing in the soft set of his dimples and the sweet dark-chocolate of his eyes.
The air crackles. You both want to tuck into his side and recede back into what is safe and to see more about whatever… This is. This man you don’t know or understand how to interact with. You have some self-preservation in you, though, and there was warning in that slash of his mouth. An understated don’t touch it. Give it up. So you do the safe thing and you curl into the warmth of his side, just like you do every other night in your flimsy pajama shorts and your chunky socks to ward off the rest of the cold that you can’t cure with the crook of his body. Except now you know a secret.
The T.V. drones. You laugh when you’re supposed to, and so does he. You’re both good at pretending, you guess. That’s probably how things have ended up coming to this.
Taking a final spoonful of ice cream to your lips, it drools over the side and onto you. “Shit!” you say, assessing the damage where it fell on your clothes. It’s stained, that’s for sure. Your poor sweater. “This one’s my favorite… I just got it. Ugh.” Wincing, you peel yourself from his side.
Soobin sighs and stands up. “Is it ruined?”
“Probably.” You tug your lips to one side, looking up at him with big, disappointed eyes. Is the pout on your lips put on for him? Since when did you start doing that, too?
Those eyes flash again. Below the surface, you almost see yourself reflected in them. Sitting on his couch with the chub of your thighs pressed into him, sweat drooping so low it shows where the fat of your arm meets the swell of your breast, looking at him all new. You swallow thickly. If you can tell the difference in yourself, then he must be feeling it. A pit forms in your stomach. Are you being unfair?
Something fundamental was changed the moment Soobin went from your untouchable best friend to the sort of man that decorated his space with anime tits. For so long, you stubbed out every single stray thought about him. Because guys like that didn’t look at you, did they? It’s pathetic, and to some degree you can recognize that. But something did change, and it’s got your heart doing something new and different. You’re letting it run loose with the plethora of things you haven’t up until now.
“Look,” he says, before he has to clear his throat to speak more clearly. His cheek flutters with a clench of his teeth, a flash of dimple like sprinkles atop the sight. “I’ll go turn up the heater. Go grab a shirt, okay?”
You blink. He’d become a blubbering mess when you saw his room the first time. Now he’s sending you in there yourself? You guess that since the cat’s already out of the bag, he’s given up trying to pretend about what he is and isn’t into. Laughing at him was cruel, and driving it in harder was even more so. Picking yourself up, you pad to his room.
Trying your best to not make eye contact with anything that might make you more insane, you tug open his dresser. His whole place smells like him, mellow and handsome, but his room even more. You rifle through his stash of graphic tees and sweats and find nothing. Soobin keeps a stash of shirts just for you. His shirts won’t fit you—not in the way you want them to. Usually, he brings them out for you to change into when you’re spending the night and itching for that feeling of stolen clothes hanging off the softness of your frame. For something to hit you at the thigh and drown you in excess, to look like you’d swiped it right from his dresser and covered yourself in it. He’d bought them just for you; purposefully oversized. It’s just a matter of finding where he actually keeps them.
His closet, then? There’s only so many places they could be. You roll open the door and narrow your eyes. Hanging jackets, sweaters, stuff forgotten up high on a rack, and the bare wood scent of a closet mingling with Soobin’s that comes off his clothes.
There’s a box on the carpeted floor, one flap open. From it, dangles a bit of pale cream fabric. Intrigued, you dip down to your knees. Probably in here. You’ve exhausted the closet and the drawer and found nothing, anyway.
What you pull out of that box is far from your collection of well-loved, oversized graphic tees. They come out frilly, delicate and strappy, all sweet in an array of pale pinks and buttercream yellows and they’re so scant it makes your face heat up just knowing he has them in his possession. There’s polka dots and stripes and they fall all over your lap as you, despite yourself, cannot stop pulling them out. It’s like a shameful game of how much worse can the next thing I pull out be? And it seems to get more impossible with each. It’s so heart-stopping it’s almost macabre.
They look just like the ones in plastic all around you right now, like the shit plastered on his walls. It’s fucking cosplay costumes.
You are definitely, absolutely overstepping boundaries. No, you’re way out past that. This is so far out in the deep end, the water’s ear-high, and you don’t really know how to get back to where you can touch.
But who are these even for? Soobin may be a self-proclaimed otaku loser, but you know with a certainty that... Well. They’re not for him, right? Is there a girl? Fingers itching and throat dry, you fumble for a tag. Something. Anything that’ll relieve the new, strange fascination roaring in your ears. Everything you’ve already been plagued by is doubled down on, but your heart is also a spike in your chest. There is so, so much you didn’t know about him. And it's all been right here. Under your nose, and none of it did you notice. It makes your face numb, sends your brain in a thousand different, fuzzy directions. The Soobin you know is either a fake, or it’s just the very tip of the iceberg that makes up the whole of your best friend.
Your stomach, already in tight knots, drops down into your toes. Your heart stops in your throat. The fabric of the tag in your fingers reads in your size. Every single one of them does. Tugging out a tiny, ruffled white skirt, it’s the same. This thing would barely cover your ass, especially with how skirts fit on your body. But maybe that’s the point.
The room bleeds around you, the faces of those figurines and posters melting. Are these for you?
Soobin’s approach is too sudden for you to stuff them all back and hide what you were doing, even though your blood jumps to the surface you try as you might. The door flies open, and it’s like he knew, somehow, what you’d find.
“Fuck,” he growls, face wan. “Fuck, what are you doing?”
You want to drop the fabric from your hands like it’s hot. But you don’t, and it’s all the more incriminating, all the more mortifying. All those polka dotted cups and rosettes and lace send your cheeks up in flames as you blink dumbly at him, caught in the act. You wish for three seconds ago, when you could have stuffed this all back into the box and went back out there and pretended you didn’t see shit.
And you finally just don’t know what to say. You have no more pointed, mean jokes. Fragments of real sentences come fumbling out instead. “I.. It was… I was looking…” You don’t finish, choking on the thump of your pulse in your throat. But it’s not a lie. You were just looking for a shirt. This is just a symptom of a much bigger problem: that Choi Soobin has a stash of stupidly delicate costumes, and the evidence toward the possibility that he bought them thinking about you, or at least another girl with a body like yours, is damning.
“You were looking?” he says, eyes wild. He begins to shove them back where they came from like it’ll change the fact that you saw them. His hands tremble and shake. “I trust you to go into my room and you just start snooping through my stuff?”
Your mouth opens and you suddenly have a lot of things, but now they just won’t come out. Shaking your head, you watch as he cleans up the mess all except for the pretty set still in your hands.
His voice strains. “What the hell?” he says, exasperated and his eyes wildly searching yours. Gauging. Gauging how far too far is, and he may be a mess and he may be snapping, but the root and truth of that reaction is that you weren’t supposed to find it. His breaths come and go erratically. It looks like he might pass out, pupils blown wide and sharp.
The first words you can string along coherently come out flatly. “Are those for me?”
“What?” Soobin says, shoulders going rigid. “What the hell are you talking about?” He tries to laugh that off, a barked, unconvincing sound. “No. Fuck, no. They’re just… It’s a collector thing, alright? I collect them. I can’t believe you just…”
Dragging a thumb over the piece you still have, you eye the tag. When you walked in here for the first time and saw what you did, you imagined what Soobin might be into. Something like those petite girls that studded the shelves was what you landed on. It’s just the probability of the matter. It’s something you had to accept before you let hope hurt you. But this thing says something different, something that makes your tummy feel all tight.
“Give that to me.” He snatches it from you, still trying to pretend none of it exists. “Shit. Would you look at mec please? I’m not a fucking weirdo. I promise.” The word cracks.
That sounds like a plea to shove down the fact that he feels exactly like one. Like keeping little bits of lace fantasies like this is anything but perversion.
“Look at me,” he says, his desperation making it sharp.
When you do finally scramble up the last vestiges of your conscious thoughts, you hit him with a bare, “Do you want me to put it on?”
Soobin blanches further, as if he could. He looks like you just stabbed him in the chest. “What?” he stutters. “I… It’s not… I said it wasn’t for you.”
The pounding of your heart is the only thing you can hear. It pangs and pushes you over the cliff that you two have been clumsily teetering on for too long. “It’s pretty. What’s it from?” you say. What are you even saying? You should be asking him what all this is, but you can’t get the image of him deliberately surfing the web for costumes meant for your body. Of him opening that incognito tab and searching for plump thighs and soft cheeks and handfuls of body, just like yours. It brings to life something that you didn’t know you could feel.
“It’s… just a show. Just forget you saw it, okay? I know it’s weird. Let’s just go back and watch the movie. Please.” He’s still trying to scrub his hands clean, but god. It’s so wonderfully degenerate that he couldn’t. He couldn’t scrub the discovery from your brain no matter how hard he tried. This is the deep end.
“You don’t want me to put it on?” you ask, taking another gander at the cotton crushed under his fists. It’s erotic, really. The sight of something so distinctly feminine and delicate against him. In the hand of your best friend. “Is it for another girl, then?” The thought constricts around your chest. You would just have to shrivel up and die.
“No.” The word tears from him. Soobin runs a trembling hand through his hair, making a mess of the silky brown-black. “Damn it. It’s not for another girl.”
“Then can I?” you say, a final thread. It’s breathless.
The air stagnates around the two of you. And then it hardens and it breaks right in two as he opens his mouth, eyes tortured and blown black, and says shakily, “Yes.” Like it’s a stolen fantasy come true.
And here you are. His soft best friend that he’s been harboring feelings so wrapped up and close to his heart for that not even you had the slightest clue, so pent up that he bought shit for you and never even expected you to wear it. Forced to watch you run around in cruel, risky shorts with the plush of your thighs and the dimples all free because he didn’t see you that way, right? And you’re looking at him with glowing cheeks, eyes hazy and round, shirt sleeve slipping, and it probably is just that.
It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. Your legs are jittery and you feel all floaty as you steal the piece back and skip into the bathroom, disappearing.
The bathroom is not a hiding spot. It’s not a relief. Your breathing quickens as you shed your clothes and pull on these new ones, knowing what they mean. It quickens and drives you into such a frenzy that you have to give yourself a quick pep talk before stepping back out. Because, what if it’s not what he hoped? It’s a given by this point that he’s… into bigger girls, you guess. But what if you step out and his shoulders sag and he gives a tight smile, because on you it’s not what he had dreamed up when he went ordering these?
When you step out, the air is sucked straight out of the room. The flowy, cotton hem flirts high up on your thighs. The sleeves are puffy and round on your shoulders, coquettish, and they don’t try to hide their congruence with your shape. They don’t pretend that you’re made of straight lines. They work with your chubbiness, making a show of it. It’s all soft, white cotton and gossamer that represents a sleep shift. It’s comfy. You don’t want to tug it off, you find. You want to bend this way and press your arms together just so and to play with it. The headband with floppy ears on your head should be mortifying, too. A week ago you thought the figures on his shelves were nothing short of ridiculous, and now you’re dressed like one.
Soobin’s face is dead. He doesn’t make a choked sound. It doesn’t even look like he knows what to do. It’s a mirror of that look you had seen just the littlest bit of earlier, when you were testing the limits of him.
“What?” you say, fluffing the flowy, babydoll body of it and doing a spin. It moves with you. Without a doubt, he got a flash of your bottom in the swish of the pieces, “No?”
“Please,” he chokes. “Come here. Please.”
Gathering up the willpower, you eat up the space between you and finally you’re in his space, on the floor beside him, dressed like this. It’s explosive. It’s like throwing a match into a puddle of fuel; fuel, being the pent-up, sordid need that Soobin has been made up of for so, so long. And fire catches.
Soobin’s mouth catches yours like he’s trying to eat you up. Bite into you like sweet pound cake. And oh, he eats. He tastes like sweetness, like the bite of ice cream he had stolen earlier. His tongue moves over yours, his teeth nipping like he can’t keep it at bay. Once the wall crumbles, all that’s left is the depravity. And Choi Soobin has a lot of that to spare, you’ve learned. You whimper and mewl into his mouth, brain racing to try and catch up with reality. It never really does.
He pulls back with tilted glasses and lips smeared with you. The shiver that starts from the base of your spine is more than bone-deep. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he says, out of breath and playing with the edge of a whine. A strangled growl. You don’t know, actually. All you know is that you want to hear more of it, want to hear him tell you that you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. “I knew you’d be sweet. I knew it. Can I please fuck you?”
It’s jarring. One second he can’t speak, the next he’s just… asking things like that. It makes you crazy. It flips your stomach over. “Soobin,” you say, lips wobbly.
That’s all he needs to hear. He’s like a dog that’s been waiting for a treat for too long for any sort of patience or tact.
The carpet abrades your ass as he tugs you by the hips down toward him. It steals the last bits of oxygen that you had been fighting to keep right away from you. It’s everything you never thought could happen and it’s coming to you in the form of your big, dumb best friend’s hands on you. Stars dapple the image of him reaching blindly up at his drawer like he can’t look away from you for even a moment. He fumbles, a clumsy mess that misses the drawer a few times, but eventually he finds what he went looking for.
Out of his dresser drawer comes a wand vibrator with a fat, rubber head. That’s it; you’re definitely not breathing.
You wonder if he bought that thinking of you, too. If he saw that shade of baby blue and all he could think, with such desperation, is that it would look good pressed between your shaking thighs. His cheeks are a dusty pink as he thumbs it on and it starts with a buzz. It’s been charged, then, and waiting. You also wonder if he’s pressed it to the slit of himself, thinking of the pretty spill of your thighs as he did it, thigh highs cutting into the chub there or any other thing he wanted to see you in.
The buzz starts on your inner thigh, first. He presses it there and watches how your body moves under it with a distinct, perverted delight. “Oh my God,” he says, straight from his chest.
Overcome with a lifetime of needing to hear that, you squirm. “Do you like it?” you ask. A stupid, air-headed question. But stupid and air-headed is just what you are right now. “Is it pretty?”
“Do I like it,” he laughs, the pads of his fingers rough where he dares higher on your thigh. The throb in your body takes the small crumb and doubles it. Triples it. Your entire center lights up. “Do I like it? Do you know how many times I came on my own stomach thinking about your fucking thighs? About fucking them? Saw you… Saw your shorts go up too high when you crawled and…” He can’t even finish, voice tightening. “Yeah. Yeah I like it.”
His hands are still trembling as he pushes the playful hem of the costume up. Up. He goes until he can see the full extent of your soft thighs, the seams of them pressing into one another all fluffy and soft and the true state of, the way Soobin looks at it, femininity and sex. He doesn’t stop until it’s ruched above your belly then above your breasts. And he stops to dig his fingers into your belly, to feel that it’s real and beneath him right now. That you are.
A moment of shyness creeps in as the air brushes all that exposed skin. The press of your breasts into the hunch of your arms that comes almost second to breathing as you feel his awareness on you, the tightening of your nipples that sends a buzzing thrill down your spine, all of it. And he’s seeing the full extent of what you look like beneath the soft, obscuring clothes. For the first time in a long time with him, you want to curl into yourself and hide it.
But it wasn’t Soobin that ever cared about the dimples in your thighs when you’d sport pajamas and stay over at his place. Not at all. That was all you. His adam's apple works, and then beseeching you with a sharp, heady, “No, please, let me fucking see you. I…” He wets his lips, eyes so dark that the chocolate there is just black. Shining. “Do you know what you’ve done to me, every day, for years? It’s not fair.”
Taking a stray hand, you drag it down. You feel the curve of your belly, follow it all the way down until you cup the roaring heat between your thighs. The place where all that softness meets, and it’s alive. It’s sending jitters through you. “You really… You seriously wanted me, Soobin?”
Soobin blinks. There’s a disconnect. Because where you keep asking him if he’s sure about this, if he thinks you’re pretty, that’s not what you find in his eyes. All that’s left in him is the need to eat something sweet, to feel all that softness arch into the hard lines of himself just so he knows what it feels like beyond the screen. Beyond the lowest of his perverted, melted thoughts. “Stop asking me that,” he says, voice hoarse. He slides his fingers beneath yours, still over the cotton of your panties but touching you right where it’s the loudest. Your breath catches sharply in your throat, heels digging into the carpet. “You’re starting to piss me off.”
You can feel your pulse. It’s all you can feel, really as he hooks his thumbs beneath the simple band of your panties and he drags them down the curves of your thighs. Slowly. Watching every inch. They’re a simple pale cotton, polka dotted. It’d send your ears glowing hotter if it were any other man, but this is Soobin. Look at what he’s got on you. Look at what he has hidden in that box, and whatever else he keeps stashed away in his brain that he wants to try out and do to you. He’s buzzing at the sight of them wrapped around your knees.
Nudging a thigh open further, he tests the buzz on his palm and kicks it up higher a few notches. Your stomach does a wild, deep flip. “Tell me if it’s too high, okay?” he says, breathing shallow. “Tell me anything. Tell me what you want me to do to you. Fuck, I’ll do anything you want.”
And then he presses it just above where you need it. You wiggle. It’s cruel. You were so ready. He remedies that by spreading you with two fingers, the sound of your wetness sending your hand over your mouth to fight the fluster, and pressing the head of the buzz right into your clit.
Lightning flashes behind your eyes. The sound you make is not your problem—not when you can’t even register it. You snap halfway up, nails digging into his wrist and the white in your vision swimming. “Soobin,” you warble.
“Fuck,” he says, caught on the sight of you. He tries circles, waxing and weaning the intensity. “Holy fuck.”
It doesn’t take long for it to all become too much. The shudder of that thing is violent, twisting up that knot in your belly so far that it stands the hair on your arms up. Your hips dig back into the floor, heels too. You need to be as far away from the sensation as possible. You need it right up inside you.
He takes a fistful of the fat at your hip, right where your tummy meets thigh, but that only works for a fleeting moment. You’re shaking and writhing on the ground, and he needs to be a part of it. Trembling with restraint, he hikes a leg of yours up, letting your plump calf float by his head, digging divots with his fingertips into your thigh to hold it up. Your body gives in to him, and it’s your favorite thing you’ve ever seen. The fact that you are built to take the shape of him like dough, and he is built to make that dent. It looks like his favorite thing, too.
“This is better,” he says, working the angle so that it hits the throbbing, sensitive underside of your swollen clit. You can only jolt and sob, spine aching to arch. “This is so much better. I want to die in them. Look at them. Look at your tummy. Please give me one. Please, I need it so bad. C’mon, baby. Don’t hold it back.” His voice is scraped raw. He presses a kiss into the inside of your knee and, like he can’t even stop himself from doing it, begins rolling his hips into the mess between your stricken thighs. A whimper falls from his bitten lips, but he won’t screw his eyes shut. The only thing he wants to see is this. You. All of it, every last bit, down to the way your tummy folds at the new sensation, tightening up.
The friction of his jeans is it. Sparks fly. It’s like you’ve been struck by a live wire. You sob, digging your skull back into the floor. The release of it is white-hot, and it slows to honey as you listen to him curse and continue rutting his clothed bulge against you.
Oh, God. He pulls you in to taste your mouth again, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans so clumsily that you would laugh if you were anywhere else, doing anything else. But here, watching him so fucking crazy over you that he can’t control his hands, it’s got your head drunk on syrup and sugar. He springs out onto his stomach, and you can’t help making a noise into his mouth and tearing yourself from the heat of his mouth to catch a nosy look.
“Holy shit…” you say, still finding your breath, head still floating elsewhere in tandem with the ebb and flow between your thighs. And yet, it comes to life something new and starving at the sight. You knew your best friend was big and dumb and clumsy, and also now a pervert. But the sight still gives you pause.
You don’t have to be small with Soobin. He’s big enough to provide you that. Because your thighs might be fully and your tummy might spill over them when you sit, but as he takes them into his hands and positions you for himself just how he wants you and has got himself off imagining for how long, you don’t know, his palms eat up your frame. You don’t have to be small when you stare dumbly at the thickness and length and drooling tip has to be kissed away by him trying to distract you from it, all searing licks of his tongue as he presses the tip to your entrance. Your thighs are split around his tiny waist, tummy pressed into the muscle of his own, and there is no other way that Soobin would have it.
Bracing himself on the carpet beside your head, he guides the head of hick cock to your entrance. He just can’t stop kissing you, and you don’t even know if it's a distraction anymore, or if it’s just the need to be eating you whole. It doesn’t catch, slipping up through your slick and nudging your clit with a jolt.
Soobin’s teeth grit. You just laugh, bracing your forehead against his broad shoulder. He presses in true this time and you make a small, stunted sound into the fabric of his sweater. He’s big this way, too. You had seen it, but now you feel it. Scrabbling at his shoulders, you pull back to try and look in his eyes. Warmth radiates from your plush cheeks.
“I know,” he says, voice close to a break. He shudders, sliding into you as slowly and quickly as he can manage. You feel every inch. The hold he has on your waist, your tummy, is ironclad. “One sec. One sec, please… I just…” His hips meet your bottom, and he’s all the way in. The idea of that, of your best friend inside of you, sends another pang of haze through you. “Okay,” he chokes and takes a hold of your hips. “Oh my God, you are… Okay, just… Like this.”
He swivels your hips in circles. You wince. It makes you aware of every inch all up inside of you, deep in your tummy. But then it starts to fade, and you start to take the shape of him like you seem to be good at. And he can see the moment it changes. “Okay?” he bites out. He’s doing so good.
“Okay,” you squeak. Okay as you’ll get. You just need him to make love to your body and show you exactly how he wanted to do it all those years you spent thinking he didn’t notice you. You need it right now, whining on top of you.
The wall breaks. The man that had kept this secret for years, so neat and strict that only now you’re seeing it? He’s gone. He is so far gone. All that’s left is the one that starts frantically fucking you like the degenerate he is.
His hands and mouth are all over you. He tastes. He moulds the dough of your thighs to the shape of his hand, the point of your breast a too soft, too real weight in his palm, your tummy brushing up against his with every buck. He shudders at it all. “Baby,” he whines. His face crumbles, brows knitting and cheeks the same pink as yours. Curling his fingers into your hair, he feels you flutter. It sends his hips stuttering. “Another one. Another one, please. I can’t believe I’m fucking you.” The words come from his belly like they take everything in him to make.
The sounds of his hips canting into your ass, the friction on your shoulders and back from the carpet, the way your belly body jiggles with each thrust he gives you. None of it matters. All of it exists just beyond your field of reality, which consists of his choking whines and growls and the second, more terrifying knot in your belly. “I’m trying.” You grasp at his shoulders, breathing in the musk of him above you. “More, Soobin. Please, I need more.”
That ignites a challenge in him. You feel it in the way his spine straightens and he falls into your neck. The concept that what he’s giving you isn’t taking you over the edge? He can’t handle that. Not after all that wanting and needing. Taking a bite right over your collarbone, which is made soft with a padding of fat on you, he tilts his hips, fumbles with his support behind your head, and he fucks you with a very simpleminded intention. You were going to cum again, and he’d lick the taste like sweet sugar right from your mouth. Each new, pitchier moan, he drinks it. His bangs stick to his forehead. It’s a miracle that his glasses are still on his face, but they fog around the rim where they meet his face. He’s flushed and all you can see is black in his eyes.
You dig your heels into the base of his spine. Deeper, you need him deeper. But how could he get any deeper into your belly?
“Where?” he cracks, shaking apart over you. His eyes are wild. It’s sudden, like he had been trying for so long to keep it down for you, but it’s consumed him finally. “Oh fuck.” His voice trembles with a noise that makes your brain go white. “I’m gonna… Baby, tell me where or I’ll…” The effort of his jumping hips, the tightening of his belly, it all works against him.
You don’t get to answer him. The world goes away again, and you shake apart under his chest. Your breasts press into him when you arch, and your tummy tightens so hard you almost wish it would stop so you could breathe.
“God, your face!” he says, and it’s his final words. Soobin stills, a shudder starting at his spine and finishing with a sob into your neck, and he sacrifices what you know he really wants just in time to spill onto your belly. He shakes so much you think he might come down on you, but those sturdy arms keep him up just enough for him to kiss at your neck and pant warmth into your skin. He ruts a few more times, a final rope of white seeping warm and sticky into your psyche. And now, not only do you know what Choi Soobin feels like inside of you, what he sounds like and which exact angle he leans, but you also know exactly what it feels like to be painted in him. In your best friend.
He pulls away when it’s all run through your systems and left nothing more than laziness and a molasses flood where your blood should be roaring instead and that afterglow chemical that makes you want to press your cheek into his chest and never leave. His face is a mess, glasses askew before he fixes them over his dusty pink cheeks, and he rakes his fingers through the damp hair at the base of your neck.
“Sorry,” he says, as if he’s finally coming back to himself. Not enough for the sight of his cum on your chubby tummy to not capture and keep his gaze, though. “I’ll… I’ll clean you up.”
It’s a question, the return of his nervousness. Are we still good? Is this weird? You just give him the slow, glowing smile of a girl that just had her brain turned to mush. “You’re a perv,” you say, giggling.
He left you a mess. You reach back behind your head and feel how the ground had teased it up. Your thighs are pink in the shape of his fingerprints. Pound cake, for sure. It looks fascinatingly a lot like he decided to top all that cakey softness off with strawberries and cream.
His eyes light up again and jaw ticks. Heart jumping in your chest, you laugh right in his face this time. It looks like, finally, you know the way to get under what Soobin pretends he is, right down to the core of him. Sugar-rotted. And he’s gonna wish you didn’t.
ash: okay yes this is super indulgent but i just see soobin and kai as the tubatus that could hold their own with a chubby girl. IM NEXT LETS GO!
— flowers for the spring time. :: 3.330+ words. ..ᝰ.ᐟ
• little love letter :: sometimes, during a bright sunny day out within the forest, you and your mate, soobin, have an urgent need to fuck like the bunnies you are… . ✿
warnings :: (18+) mdni. smut — bunny hybrid! 최수빈 x bunny hybrid afab!reader … soft dom!soobin, cottagecore au, public sex, doggy style (?), overstimulation, exhibitionism, size kink, sensory play, reader is very sensitive, petnames, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), breeding kink, feral/primal play, sex in a garden, mentions of other hybrid!txt members, lots of symbolism, messy and feral bunnies 🐇
sticky note :: one of my fav fics, perfect for the spring season. freak soobin, my fav topic, bunny soobin, my fav topic. this is not proofread, i’ll do so after my nap 😪 thank uuu for reading >.<
the fresh smell of the earth invades your overly sensitive nose, reddened tip twitching at the potent twinge of geosmin and light hints of petrichor from last nights rain showers.
it’s the new mixture of freshly picked floral petals that invades your olfactory perception, strong and aromatic in your muddled senses.
you felt like you were going to melt completely, right here on the thick moss your nails clawed into and knees slightly scuff against as you desperately seek some sort of grounding from the merciless snaps of his hips.
this wasn’t the type of grounding you expected.
never did you think you would actually be pressed against the natural greenery of your backyard garden, get your soul snatched when anyone in the vicinity of the area could just witness this without trying to find you. yet here you are, the side of your face tainted in rich soil as green flecks of moss littered over your squished cheek and soft locks. your fur-balled tail twitched higher in the air as his fingers ran dangerously closer around the skin of your lower back, but that’s all you can realize before he hooks his grip on the crease of your thighs and hips, hands wrapped around your plushed hips in a tight vice.
the back door of your cottage was right there, just an arms length out of reach and so close to the softness of your blankets, so so close to the warmth and comfort of your nest, but the hybrid is never patient enough when he wants you for himself.
he’d rather take you right where he personally loved seeing you, attending to your various flowers in the garden he formulated for you years ago. it is considered your second safe space, one you loved sharing with him either by picking out his favorite lily and tucking it over his ear or simply informing him on new changes you made for better growth of your plant babies.
he knew how much you valued nature as a bunny hybrid, wanting you to feel as if your cottage was your natural playground, wanting to ensure your happiness and connection with the green nursery.
he had the same innocent thought before he appeared behind you, simply gazing at your seated frame as you tend a patch of lilies planted by the edge of the back porch. his lovely rabbit; legs and feet tucked underneath your body, long, pin straight ears forever sensitive and twitching at the sound of your own tone as you hum a soft song he recognizes — completely unaware of his presence until he made it known, thought now melting into sweet desire.
and you definitely weren’t opposed to it either…
he was so happy to see you preen all too happy when you allowed him to press you into a presenting position with a soft hand on your back, pull your cotton panties taut to the side with his other heavy palm and let his flicking tongue do as it pleases onto your syrupy, slicking flower for a while. he is so eager, parting your petals open with gentle licks and wrapping his lips around your swollen bud, ignoring your bubbling whines and lapping until your eyes rolled shut and your liquid nectar coated his entire lower face in a wet splash, for a second time…
and yet you still had the gull to ask him in that soft voice, if you two could do this inside, like normal humans. it was confusing.
he paused and looked at the perfectly ruined sight, validating his conclusion that there was no way was he going to stop now.
not when he knows you clearly don’t mind if you were letting him suckle on your cum just seconds ago, your ass still high in the air after he practically ripped off your soiled underwear and puffy tail lifted towards the sky to not hinder his ease of licking you clean.
not when your skin looked so alive against the vibrant array of colors that glimmer in your garden after he pulled off your sheer black babydoll, pretty face cushioned against your arms beneath you and limp, folded ears laying flat against his favorite flowers, rosy lilies.
absolutely no way. you are staying right here.
it’s all natural, so why not do it in the rawest way possible?
the birds above the tall pine trees chirped in a hymnal melody you’ve grown fond of, the rays of sun painted a golden glow onto your skin and heated your back as your spine arched further, body elongating and decompressing with each rock of his hips.
you appeared as soft as you felt, and he couldn’t get enough of the way you tremble despite there being no wind within the still forest, straight adoration dilating his pupils as they gaze upon the ruffle your tail does when he snaps his hips into a specific angle.
he molds himself onto your body and he doesn't hesitate to whisper sweet nothings into your long ears, calling you all the honeyed names he could think of— or maybe even the worse one that gets you mewling into the grassy plain below, his sweet bunny.
he couldn’t care about the fact that any of the other hybrids could easily return back from their hunt and see him take the bunny in this way, no.
but how could he, when he’s incredibly deep into you? watching as his cock disappears deep in your fluttering pussy and marvel at how wet he glistens every pull out, gaze darkening as his tip catches on your opening with your hurried clench. he plunges deeper until his base squishes against your reddened rump and his balls kiss your puffed button of sensitive nerves, reveling in the sound of your weak whimpers.
he had to pause to gaze dreamily at the sight. the swell in his heart grows bigger upon the pretty sight, your arched figure framed by green wisps, flowers spreading out and bowing under your weight, jolting along with you with each press of his hips.
the thickness of your plush thighs, a bunny trait he could never not love. muscles strong and sturdy enough to keep you in this position, and catch some of the impact of his thrusts with audible plaps. the way moans fall freely from your trembling lips as you press against his thick cock, using your legs to thrust yourself back and meet his quick pace.
and that’s when he could tell you were getting closer, that you couldn’t hold on any longer, his long body bending over yours easily and hands snaking around your front. he lifts you off the soft petals, warm palms walking up your frame as if they were tracing over a delicate art piece, remembering the ridges, curves and small marks on the smooth plains of your skin. they walk over the swell of your breast and hike over your shoulders, pulling you upwards into his body because he wants you pressed closer. wanting to feel the trembles of your orgasm wash over you against his heated skin.
he falls in love with how pliable and small your features are in his hands, how much he can grip and hold onto within just one palm.
dirt digs deeper in the crest of your claws as your elbows lock and straighten, arms slightly shaking as you uphold your upper body. he lifts your head up with a hand underneath your jaw, craning your neck until your ears flap back over your messy heap of frizzy locks, draping over your upper spine. dirt brushes against his lips as they peck along your temple, strands of his messy bangs picking up more soil as his head tilts for his lips to reach lower onto your dropped jaw, your moans ringing high into the sunny skies.
they’re noises of love, appreciation, echoing throughout the billowing trees and he knows he’s giving you everything you need right now, despite how messy, how unconventional.
you’re so messy, but this is how he knows you’re supposed to be. fulfilled and taken care of in every way, your primal needs satiated with pure joy at the act of mating in the comfort of raw nature — just like a true bunny.
kisses so soft, showing his affection and appreciation to the art that is his bunny, it contradicts the tough snap of his hips that punch moans out your hoarse throat, implementing his need for ruining you as well. you’re so close, mind buzzing as loud as the bees that often visit your garden during the spring season.
and his praise doesn’t stop; your jaw still gripped in his hand, he pulls your attention towards him as his lips utter soft murmurs and meet yours occasionally between lazy syllables, wholeheartedly eating your noises of satisfaction as if they were the sweetest treat.
his teasing nature doesn’t stop either.
“my sweet bunny, so sweet, you even let yourself be mounted in your garden where anyone can see,” his airy light taunts aim to weaken your already softened bones into a melted puddle of warmed milk, voice low and soft against your love-bitten pout. “kitties have sharp eyes, bunny. what if tyunnie saw you like this, hm?” you’re pliable within his embrace, whimpering in response. it takes a while for you to actually form syllables pass those trembling lips, but when you do, it rocks his world.
“n..no.. don’t say that,”
his moan puffs out as soft as yours just from hearing the sound of your meek, breathless tone.
he clearly saying this because he knows how much you love sharing your comfort space with the feline as well, and the shock he would experience upon seeing the full act on such a sacred space would definitely be fun to see.
“why not? but what about jjunie, his prurient curiosity would be cured if he finally witnesses your true mating desires,” you attempt pulling away from his hold at the mention of the fox hybrid, head twisting but he doesn’t allow you to, your muttered curses choking as he wraps his fingers tighter around your upper jugular, keeping you still as he continues.
a low hum, almost a purr. “would you let him watch you this messy and sticky, playing on dirt?”
“d-don’t be so explic—”
“what about beommie?” he hums thoughtfully as he feels you clench tighter around his throbbing length upon hearing his words. a smile rest of his lips; yes, your pretty bear, he hums again before continuing on with the mission of making you fall apart in his arms, “would your cub like the smell of your garden tainted with our sex?”
you couldn’t respond to that at all, but he knew what you wanted to say.
it’s clear at this point that you wouldn’t mind anything anymore, whining mindlessly in that candied voice of yours, since you’re so caught up on the mind clouding sensation that slowly builds into a breaking point within you. all you felt was his small chuckle puff against your cheek before he pulls away completely, hands falling back onto your hips and lower back as he continues his pace.
“sssssss…” is all you could hiss through your clenched teeth, shut eyelids clenching tighter as you fail to formulate the syllables of his name before your head hangs again and you’re sliding back onto your forearms, face just inches away from a rose petal underneath your drooling lips.
just the sight of you falling apart so gently was enough for his own release to build up, his eyes locked on the way your ears flop forward when your neck falls limp, admiring how your shoulders hunch higher from the ecstatic feeling that coursed through your nerves and tenses your muscles.
“you’re such a soft little thing, falling apart on these pretty flowers,” his voice washes over your floppy ears in a sweet lullaby, sweetened and dripping with pure admiration. the fluffy tips were almost as red with heat as the peonies jolting underneath your stomach and you feel the affects of his praise burning your skin as your face nuzzles into your forearms, your muddled moans vibrating against your tainted flesh. he coos at the mental image of your reddened nose twitching, like it always does when you’re overly sensitive from the pleasure. “gonna cum on the camelias?”
“yes please, binnie.”
he melts at how desperate your shaky plea sounded, it’s almost exasperated and all he wants to do is give you what you need immediately.
you don’t have to tell him twice for him to already get the idea.
the saccharine sound of your croon pushes a wanton moan from his bobbing throat before he could hide it. he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he pumps deeper, realizing your silence afterwards was due to the same reason for his.
it’s something common between you both,
when all your attention is focused on chasing that building pleasure, neither of you want to prolong the time any longer. you fall silent upon the sudden rush, mind zeroing in on the pressure. the heat seeps in underneath your skin and melts into liquid adrenaline as his hips piston impossibly faster, and all you could do was just brace longer against the smushed petals. your spit-slicked lips puff, parting around your own forearm as your fanged teeth sink deeper into your skin, holding your breath from the force and pace of his thrusts.
just the sound of the swaying branches surrounding your cottage and the raw noises of your love making was the perfect reminder of your feral desires, sinfully beautiful in your twitching ears. his choked whimpers hide behind his pursed lips, barely audible underneath the viscous squelches of your connected sexes, and you’ve both realized the longer and louder it gets, the harder it was fighting back these inevitable noises.
the restraint grows harder as he fucks you closer towards the sweet release, your eyebrows furrowing in blissful agony, rising like the edge of your impending orgasm.
the lightheaded feeling was euphoric and you’re merely a shaking leaf by the time the pleasure attacks your body in an unexpected pop of pressure, the only thing ringing in your ears being the wet smacks of skin.
then your mind reels in; nerve ending sparking as you focus on everything that’s gotten you into this point, how his slightly rough push and pull feels—
he’s thick, stretching your walls taut around his girth in a heavenly manner- filling you in perfectly, fitting comfortably as each pump fills clouds your mushy thoughts with desperate desire, almost feral. a sudden flipped switch rendering you speechless at the feeling of your boyfriend satiating your need, it’s almost purely animalistic.
it’s when he angles further down and the head of his cock pets over your g-spot that you finally crumble. he grazes over your sweet spot over and over again, until a high cry fills in the empty spaces between each audible smack of skin, jaw completely slacking as your held breath empties your lungs in a raw, unrestrained moan.
and once you come undone, he’s hissing through his fanged teeth, hands gripping tighter and fingers pressing bruising indents into your supple flesh as he feels the constricting vice of your walls tightening around his cock. he tastes metallic iron on his tongue when he lowers his gaze back onto your hips, his lip bruising between his bared teeth.
wet and glistening in the sunlight, you felt a chill overtake your body as your body falls boneless just like he wanted, thighs fully shaking as slick liquid squirts outwards everytime he pulls his hips away before rutting back in.
he follows not long after, his hands planting flat on the ground by your head and nails clawing into the dirt as his rhythm spasms with the help of your sticky release. from the ground, your blurry eyes flutter open and gaze upon a shadow of his frame, his lax ears flopping forward and broad shoulders blocking your back from the sun as he leans closer. his hips snap once more before his jaw slacks with a deep moan, releasing his load in shallow pumps, thick ropes painting your walls and rimming around his base as he nudges impossibly closer.
you feel overwhelmingly full everytime with him, but he stays there to make it stick.
god, he wants it to stick, so fucking bad.
he prays to the orchid petals that rest underneath your drooped ears.
there was so much of his seed that it bubbles out from where he’s still sitting comfortably deep inside you, trickling down the veins underside his length and drips down to his balls, seeping further down with gravity until it’s clinging onto the tip of your twitching clit. you can feel it collect on your sensitive flesh until it was heavy enough to fall onto the soil below your hips as a droplet, stringy like fruit nectar.
and none of you move an inch for a while, giving you an opportunity to bask in the moment.
you wish to stay like this forever, nuzzling into the pressed flowers that litter everywhere underneath your arched figure, connect with nature and get courted— mated in ways you’ve been yearning for, for weeks. the earth thrums underneath your palms, pulsing like the accelerated beat of your heart and in rhythm of his light ruts. it’s dirty in every way, ways that would even be a bit skeptical for the other hybrids.
but can you truly be at blame?
you’re just merely a bunny.
and he knows you.
with a long string of whispered curses and tender praises, he milks both of your releases with shallow grinds for long enough before it reaches the brink of unbearable overstimulation, watching as you fall out of that high and into a cloud of fuzzy haze.
a beat of time froze as the birds continue to chirp loud and clear.
soft pants and audible whines were all that was left of you both, falling limp, your knees sliding easier against the now dampened dirt as his hips press flush against your ass, rutting deeper and pushing you further down onto the bed of flowers. he can feel your tail ruffling with satisfaction against his lower navel as he drapes his lean body over yours, littering pecks onto every inch of your spine as you bask in the post glow, preening and nudging deeper in response to your rising purrs.
it’s true, he knows how to take care of his bunny, because it’s what you both need.
he knows it’s what you both wanted and what you both desired, down to the most primal instinct.
he knows that sometimes it’s necessary to let loose and fall prey to your animalistic traits, satisfy the feral feeling for a moment.
the breaking point before a reset.
soobin was itching for this, yearning, waiting for the right moment and catching it on time— when he knew you were pining, craving it too.
he knew from the moment you blinked at him with rounded eyes right as the last hybrid locked the front gate and waved him goodbye, running off after the others for their hunt and leaving you both alone,
the only two bunnies.
his own puff-ball tail ruffles with glee as pride overrides all other emotions within his hormones, his hands kneading your soft skin, soiling the tan flesh with more dirt from his palms.
he wants for you to have a simple life, live happily in the warmth of your shared cottage and he’s always in dire need to show his love for you. it’s an overwhelming need, and what better way than to express it by connecting in the best way possible on these flowers?
don’t think he didn’t know the meanings of each flower you’ve planted in your garden. of course he was going to catch onto your subtle signs, being the attentive bunny you’ve fell in love with.
˚⟡˖having a bigger chest than most girls made you feel extremely insecure, but your boyfriend never fails to remind you there's no such thing as TOO MUCH.˚⟡˖
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ big chested! reader x boyfriend TXT ⋆˚
꩜.ᐟtit worship, tit fucking, cumming on tits, crying, kissing, pet play, sex, mommy kink, daddy kink, reader is called bunny, insecure reader, outfits make TXT horny, loser txt lowkey cuz i love it, fashion is a big part of this, humping, breast feeding (?)
🎧ྀི♪⋆.✮ now playing HEY BITCH by D3R, WUJEK & BLOOD PUP - m.list
「 YEONJUN 」
⤷ hes the king of fashion and he 100% influences you to get into it too, so when you try wearing a tighter style of shirt which hugs your chest in the perfect way? YEONJUN can only handle so much before he's drooling on his knees.
"jjunnie, i don't think this looks good," you turn push the door open to the bedroom the two of you shared, some low waisted jeans barely hanging onto your hips whilst a tight baby tee was being pushed to its limits on your top half.
yeonjun chokes on his ice coffee he was sipping on, his chair almost snapping in half with how fast he turns around. "jesus christ the lord please save me for all the sins im about to commit," yeonjun clasps his hands together in front of his chest, eyes squeezed shut.
worry bubbles in your stomach, "do you not like it? is it too much?" you whisper and yeonjun's eyes narrow into slits, long legs easily eating up the distance between the two of you.
"i don't like your outfit baby," he leans down, lips brushing against your own as he speaks, your eyes widen with fear at his words. you lift your arms to cross them over your chest but yeonjun just laughs, "i fucking love it baby."
"you scared me, i thought it was all too much, considering my," you look at your chest before blushing and looking away. yeonjun cocks a brow, his large hands coming up to cup the large swell of your breasts.
"you thought it was too much because your shirt makes your tits look so fucking good?" yeonjun smirks, giving your boobs a firm squeeze. you whimper, trying to leave his grasp but he steps closer, pressing his hard bulge into his thigh.
"fuck baby, you're not leaving the house until i stuff you full of my cum."
「 SOOBIN 」
⤷hes submissive, needy and whiney so obviously hes going to be a sucker for your tits. SOOBIN is arguably the most in love with your tits out of the five of them.
"baby.." you yawn, the shirt you had been sleeping in had completely bunched up around your neck rather than hiding your precious features. "soobinnie?" you rub your eyes, the cool air of the room hitting your exposed chest.
soobin was already awake, eyes wide as he looks at the large swell of your chest, his hands itchy by his hands to touch you. his lips form the perfect pout, his cheek resting against your shoulder.
" 'm here," soobin hums, his hands coming up to cup your large breasts, your eyes widen, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. you try to pull the blanket up over yourself but soobin whines, already burying his face between your boobs.
"how- my shirt, soobin move so i can cover myself," you tangle your hand in his dark hair to try push him away, but he whines so loud it almost gives you a headache. soobin wraps his hands around your waist, laying full on top of you as he latches onto one of your nipples.
a shocked moan forces its way from your throat, eyes widening as your boyfriend eagerly laps and sucks on your chest as if he were going to get milk from you. "soobin what the fuck are you doing?"
his brown eyes flutter open, mouth temporarily pulling away from your chest. "i'm hungry mommy, n they look so pretty, fuck," your boyfriend whimpers, his other hand fondling your other breast as he kisses all over your other one and sucks on your nipple again.
"you're a pervert binnie"
「 BEOMGYU 」
⤷ clingy, soft dom BEOMGYU that talks you through literally everything because hes the best boyfriend ever? but,, at the end of the day, he is just beomgyu so he can't help but get horny every time he walks in on you changing!
"baby girl, are you almost ready? i miss you," beomgyu whines from the other side of your bedroom door, he always insisted on not being in the room whilst you changed to give you some sort of privacy.
"just come in daddy, i'm almost done," you call out to him, your back was turned to the door as you looked through the closet to find a shirt. beomgyu hums, pushing the door open and getting comfortable on the bed his hands already finding the pants you were meant to wear that you had left on the bed.
"daddy i need them!" you giggle, turning around to face beomgyu. his eyes widen at the sight, nothing but a black lacy bra on your chest that was barely containing your tits and a matching pair of panties. he lets out a loud moan, immediately pulling you down onto his lap.
"holy fucking shit baby," beomgyu growls, his lips finding yours in a needy, desperate kiss. his large hands knead the soft flesh of your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples. "lay down, fuck, lay down. need to fuck your tits, so fucking big and perfect, be a good girl for daddy bunny."
you giggle, your cheeks a dark shade of red as you lay down on the bed, your boyfriend had already shed his sweatpants and had grabbed the lube from the bedside table before straddling your chest. "bunny, you're so perfect, just look at you, and you're all mine aren't you? say it. say that you're mine."
you mewl, gyu's" left hand pinching your cheeks so you had no choice but to look him in the eye as his right hand smeared lube down the valley of your breasts. "I-i'm all yours daddy, your bunny, your good girl. m yours," you whimper, his thick length finally sliding between your boobs.
he groans, "hold them together, tell me how perfect you are as i fuck your tits bunny, tell daddy how fucking hot you are."
「 TAEHYUN」
⤷ going to the gym had always been a big part of TAEHYUN'S life so he was more than over joyed when you said you would come with him. what he didn't expect, was for you to turn up in the smallest, tightest sports bra known to man.
taehyun was half way through his set when he saw you walk into the gym, some tight leggings that made your ass look huge but that wasn't where his eyes were and taehyun was a very well known ass man. his eyes are glued to your chest, the nike sports bra you wore was barely holding your tits!
"princess, over here," taehyun calls out to you, there's no need for him to raise his voice because he knows you can pick his voice up from any where.
you turn your head in his direction, a wide smile already spreading across your face at the sight of your boyfriend. you meet in the middle, taehyun hands immediately going to your waist to guide you towards the shower room.
"fucking hell baby girl, are you trying to kill me? dressing up like this. you're lucky no one else is here to see you like this, like a fucking whore," tyun tuts, his eyes scanning your outfit with a disappointed look, his arms crossing over his chest.
you whimper, immediately feeling small under his gaze you. "w-what? i was just trying to wear gym clothes. we were going to work out together weren't we?" you look up at him, arms crossed over your chest to attempt to hide yourself from his strong gaze but its futile.
"there's no point in hiding yourself now baby, everyone's already seen how much of a slut you look like, showing off these perfect tits,"taehyun raises his left hand, landing a firm spank on your left boob. you moan, arms falling down to your sides.
his skin is still damp from his half finished work out, biceps bulging as he picks you up and practically slams you against the ground. you don't even release it but your leggings get ripped in the crotch, his sweatpants down by his mid thigh.
"dress like a slut, get treated like a slut."
「 HUENING KAI」
⤷ subby KAI who can't keep his paws off of you no matter what, whimpering and crying because you're not near him at all times. he even wears his collar around the house when you're out because he misses you!
after a long day of being away from you, poor kai can't wait to play with you.
"good puppy, you fuck me so well," the fake dog ears on kai's head bounce with each thrust into you, the tail plug in his ass pressing into his prostate. he whimpers at your praise, his hips speeding up to try coax more of the sweet words from your mouth.
his eyes are staring down at your chest, mesmerised by the way your tits bounce each time he fucks into you. his mouth moving down to kiss the softness of your chest.
"does-does it feel good mommy? am i doing it good-good enough?" kai's voice is airy, a mixture of submission and pleasure. "nghh mommy, i'm im so close,"
you chuckle at his cuteness, how he attempts to shake his hips so his tail will wag and the drool that ran down his chin. kai's eyes glass over as he cums, fucking it deep inside of you, it doesn't take long for you to cum, clenching around your puppy's cock to milk him of all of his cum.
kai soon falls on top of you, heavy weight crushing you, his cock still buried deep inside of you. his lips attach to your nipple, gently sucking as his tail wags with the movement of his slow grinds.
"good boy, you did so well for me, so well for mommy," you coo, gently scratching at his scalp in the way that had kai letting out a high pitched whine.
a/n: kiri x hyperfeminine!gf - self indulgent sigh
⋆˙⟡ will sit in the bathroom and watch you do your makeup the whole time, zero complaints only absolute adoration
⋆˙⟡ lets you try out new product on him first bc then he gets to sit in front of you and stare at how pretty and perfect you are
⋆˙⟡ when going to ulta, sephora, etc will hold the basket and lend you his arm and face for swatches and everything - he’s just content to follow you around
⋆˙⟡ loves going to the mall with you and watching you try on clothes, he gives honest opinions (even tho he thinks you look perfect in everything) he likes to pick things out for you and watch you twirl around in them
⋆˙⟡ buys you anything and everything you could want, loves to spoil you because then you spoil him in return with kisses and compliments
⋆˙⟡ you make him feel manly with how delicate and soft you are
⋆˙⟡ doesn’t mind that you have pink sheets on the bed at home and loves all your ‘girly’ decor
⋆˙⟡ loves that you’re always dressed up, even when going to bed
⋆˙⟡ he adores your sheer nighties and tries to keep his hands to himself but it rarely works out and you never mind cus you love his big hands roaming all over you
“my pretty, pretty girl. so beautiful.” he murmurs softly as he peppers kisses all over you.
⋆˙⟡ he worships you for hours if you’d let him and only if you’re still in the mood will he sink his thick dick into you
⋆˙⟡ loves missionary with you, where you’re holding onto him so tightly, legs locked around his waist as you come undone beneath him
⋆˙⟡ but he also loves to toss your legs over his shoulders and breed you - dreams about getting you pregnant and seeing you round with his baby
⋆˙⟡ would rather eat you out than have you suck him off and loves to eat you out until you’re a shaking mess and whining so pretty for him
⋆˙⟡ when you’re acting like a brat he makes you ride him as punishment
“c’mon baby, keep going.” he coos. “sink all the way down.”
“kiri can’t.” your toes curl. “‘s too big.” you lower lip trembles.
he gives in and pulls you down against his chest and fucks up into you. he’s not slow with it either, he loves to hear the noises you make from this position.
⋆˙⟡ he’s so doting during aftercare, depending on how long you two went at it he’ll clean you up with his mouth and pull one more orgasm from you as you fall asleep otherwise he’ll carry you to the bathroom and clean you up with the softest touch
⋆˙⟡ whispers the sweetest things to you while you fall asleep and long after
word count: 400+ words / mdni ! +18 i've been ill for the last few days and it suuckkss so i haven't wrote as much as i wanted too :(
"tama' feel s' good!" you slur your words, holding onto your boyfriend for dear life after you've slipped from the safety of the rock you where perching on.
his indigo hair was tickling your face and neck as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, face red and whimpering, his large cock constantly hitting that spongy spot inside of you, making you both lose your mind. your pussy feels so warm wrapped around him that he can't help but pull your soft body even closer to him.
"y-you feel s' good t-too bunny." his breath against your skin making you shiver. "are you cold bunny?" he asked concerned as he sees you shiver and you do your best to shake your head.
"no, no 'm okay," you wrap your arms around him even tighter and lull your head against his shoulder. amajiki takes a deep breath as your head brushes against his sensitive pointy ear and his thrusts increase in pace.
"that's g-good pretty," he says in reply.
the suckers of his tentacles were all over your body, two of them focusing on your nipples pulling them and making you whine loudly. you buck your full hips up against his trying to match his movements unsuccessfully, consumed by overstimulation.
amajiki's letting you have control of your arms while you circle your arms around his neck but he's pulling your legs apart, a tentacle on each ankle as he opens them wide, each trust into you makes your body jiggle, causing more precum to leak into you with every bounce adoring the way you look on his cock.
one of his tentacles moves against your ass, playing with your opening but not entering. the two that are on your nipples suctioning harder and harder making you scratch his back, unaware of what you're doing too caught up in the pleasure you're receiving.
tamaki feels your walls spam around him and knows you're close so he focuses on your clit. he uses one of his dark magenta tentacles to rub around your clit, brushing against you and making you squirm before switching to sucking in time with his two other tentacles that are focusing on your breasts. you come soon after that, screaming loudly as you do and luckily you're so far away from any humans that no one will hear the scream that came from you, tamaki twitches in you and both of you know that he'll follow you, unloading in you, with a small cry.
contains. tamaki has a big dick, pet name (“bunny”), p in v, creampie
No one stretches you out quite like TAMAKI does.
You’re on your back, legs stretched out and already shaking when he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you. Your eyes immediately roll back and you pathetically mewl as you take him. Every inch.
It’s overwhelming in the best way possible.
He’s so gentle with slow, easy strokes at first. But even he gets carried away with how fucking good you feel around his cock, and he can’t help himself but to speed up.
He pins down your hands, tilting his head back and letting out melodic moans. “S-Sorry, bunny…” he apologizes, voice shaky and drowning in whimpers. “Feels so good. You feel so good. Wanna cum…”
You’re dumb and fucked out and can only manage to emit noises of pleasure as your pussy gets plowed by the shy boy above you.
Tamaki lets out a loud moan as he spills his seed deep inside your pussy and you can feel his cock throbbing, which is enough to bring about your orgasm and you cum around him.
When he slides out of you, he catches a glimpse of his cum drooling out of you and his face burns a deep scarlet.
“I might have… went a bit too hard…” he admits. And all you can do is be endeared by his bashful nature.
You prop yourself up on your elbows. “There’s no such thing as going too hard when you’re with me,”
18+ smut!! light nipple play, curvy!reader, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart), reader with boobs, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
wc: 852
You huff at your reflection, your favourite bra that had once been a perfect fit now feeling a little too snug. You watch as the tops of your breasts begin spill out over the cups as you try to adjust the straps.
"I think I need to get remeasured," you say to your boyfriend, who had definitely not been watching you get changed for dinner from his spot on the bed.
“Hmm?” Steve hums distractedly, too busy staring at your chest to really notice that the book he was pretending to read was upside down. “Sorry—what did you say, baby?”
The corners of your mouth lift and you turn to look at him—one of your nipples peaking out over the top of your bra which causes Steve’s eyes to widen comically.
“I said,” you begin, making no move to adjust the cup as you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips. “That I need to get remeasured. My tits are spilling out.”
“Are they?” Steve asks nonchalantly, his eyes shifting up to your face and sparkling with amusement. “I didn’t even notice.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you turn back around to look once again at your reflection. “You’re so full of shit, Stevie.” You tell him affectionately, your cheeks warming and stomach fluttering as you hear the creak of the bed as Steve gets to his feet. You watch in the mirror as he walks toward you with that look on his face that made heat flare in your gut.
“I can measure them for you, baby,” Steve insists, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You try not to react as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his growing arousal now pressing against your ass.
“How would you—”
But you get your answer in the form of one of Steve’s large hands cupping your breasts and squeezing.
“Steve!” you scold him but make absolutely no attempt to swat his hand away as he kneads the flesh with reverence.
“Just being thorough,” he tells you, leaning in to press a wet kiss to your neck, his tongue stroking the flesh gently just to watch you squirm in his arms. “Stand still, sweetheart. M’trying to concentrate here.”
“You’re not—”
But words fail you as soon as Steve’s free hand reaches behind your back to unhook your bra.
The moment that your breasts spill free, Steve lets out a low groan that shoots through your body like lightning. he wastes absolutely no time in throwing it unceremoniously across the room while his free hand turns you around to face him. His eyes drag over your body—over every curve, every dip that he had been obsessed over the past few months of being together.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, causing your face to warm as both of his hands squeeze and knead your breasts. You have to bite back a moan as his thumb brushes over one of your nipples, the feeling sending heat straight to your core.
“Stevie,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your breasts even more into his palms and causing a smile to break out across his face as he catches the all too familiar signs of arousal dancing across your face.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks you gently, dipping his head down to run his tongue between the valley of your breasts. Your head tilts back and you let out of a soft whimper as his lips meander their way towards one of your pebbled peaks, his hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
“You wanna know what I think?” Steve murmurs, his lips hovering a breath away from your sensitive skin—the act making every nerve in your body buzz, makes the blood running through your veins hum. His other hand still kneads your other breast while the wet heat of his tongue darts out to play with your nipple like he had all the time in the world, like you didn’t have a dinner reservation in twenty minutes.
“I asked you a question,” Steve murmurs through a mouthful of your tit, his eyes on your face as he swirls his tongue around your stiff peak. “I said—y’wanna know what I think?”
“Yes,” you gasp breathlessly, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as you try to pull him even closer, as though trying to fuse your bodies together.
Steve pulls his lips away from you, your nipple now coated in his saliva and you whine at the loss of contact. Steve tuts at the sound and gives your other breast a final squeeze before he pulls away from that one too.
“I think they’re the perfect size,” he tells you with a toothy grin—one that plainly told you he was seeing the want in your eyes but wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. Yet.
“Steve—”
“Later,” he promises with a smug grin before he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth as though his hardening cock wasn’t pressing against your hip. “We’ve got a dinner to go to.”
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