#piwon fluff

You hover in the doorway, fingers picking at the hem of your shirt. Keeho’s sitting there, shoes on, jacket already zipped—he’s been ready for the last twenty minutes. Guilt prickles at your chest.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “I can just meet you there.”

He shakes his head instantly. “Not happening.” When you still don’t move, shoulders dropping as you cower into yourself he adds softly, “C’mere, seriously.”

How fucking embarrassing. 

You drag your feet across the carpet, sitting beside him with a small sigh. Keeho turns a little toward you, elbow resting on the back of the couch and his warm palm finding its place on your lower back. 

“You know,” he says, voice gentler now, “I don’t care if we’re late. I just care that you look like you wanna cry.”

You press your lips together, desperately trying not to. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t argue this time. He just studies you for a moment — really looks. Then, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, “You’ve been trying on clothes for an hour. What’s going on?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Nothing fits right. Everything’s either too tight or too loose, and I just—” you gesture helplessly at yourself, eyes burning, “I don’t even know why I’m crying about this.”

“Baby…”

You shake your head, embarrassed. “You’re all dressed up. You’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, but I’d wait again if it meant you didn’t feel like… this.” He pauses, eyes softening. “We can stay in if you want. Order something. You can try things on and I’ll give brutally honest fashion advice, free of charge.”

That earns a tiny laugh out of you. “You’re gonna regret offering that.”

“Never,” he grins.

“It’s just,” you glance down defeatedly, taking in the spillage— the way your top sits uncomfortably and barely covers you. Your hands come up to cover your chest, “They’re just too big.” 

“Too big?!” 

“Keeho-” 

“No, seriously-” His eyes are wide, hands coming up to grab your waist and tug you closer. 

You try to resist, hands wrapping tighter around yourself and eyes darting around as you mumble something incoherent. Still, he lulls you closer, so patiently, until you’re seated on his lap, thighs on either side of his.

 “Look at me,” he tilts your chin up with his finger until you meet his eyes. “Do you know how obsessed I am with you?” He leans closer, eyes dancing over your skin as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

His hands squeeze your waist, working themselves everywhere until they settle just under your ribs.

“Do you know how much I love laying on your chest?” His mouth moves carefully around each word as he draws closer, until his breath is kissing your skin but his lips are still just an inch too far. 

“How soft,” he whispers, “how kissable they are? I could die a happy man right now, just holding you like this.” 

“I know, but my shirts-”

“So take it off.” He shrugs, “Just for now. If this is stressing you out,” he tugs at the fabric, “then take it off.”

When you don’t move, he carefully finds the hem of your shirt, “Let me?”

You nod, meek and shy and overwhelmed. But his gaze—it doesn’t feel pressuring. It doesn’t feel judgmental or rushed or even pitiful. 

And when he peels your shirt off your skin and your arms come down around his shoulders, the look on his face nearly makes you laugh.

“Holy shit,” he groans, “feels like it’s my birthday every time I undress you.” 

“Shut up,” you scold, but there’s no real bite to your tone. The corner of your lips twitches up when he groans again, face pressing into your chest as he breathes you in.

“I love you.” He’s muffled and slurring, hands molding over your bra and kisses finally starting to meet your soft, plush skin. “So warm.”

Your brows lift up slightly as you watch, jaw slack, as his tongue darts out with a mind of its own to lick across the swell of your boob. He doesn’t just stop there; His mouth finds your other breast, making sure it’s not neglected. Open-mouthed kisses trail spit across you as you gasp quietly, nails digging lightly into his skin. 

“Kyo…”

“Do you really not see? How pretty and full you are?”

Before you can think too much about it, before you can take it back, you blurt out, “take it off.” 

Keeho pauses for just a second, eyes finding your soft and vulnerable ones for long enough to make sure you really mean your request before letting his hands wrap around you slowly to unhook your bra, straps slipping down your arms until the undergarment is sitting between you. 

Keeho wastes no time in tossing it aside and leaning back on his palms, his eyes, respectfully, glancing nowhere near yours.

“Wow…” he draws out, drool gathering on the corner of his lip.

“Don’t just stare…” You mumble. Your hand comes up to cover yourself until he catches them and gently brushes them away.

“Oh, I don’t plan to,” his thumb comes up to smooth over your perked up nipple, “believe me, I plan to do way more than just stare. Just… Just wanna take you in for a second…”

“You really like them that bad?” You ask quietly, looking down at them with less appreciation than you should.

He nearly laughs, “Are you crazy? Did you just ask your boyfriend if he likes your boobs?”

“Keeho!” You smack his shoulder but he catches your hand and kisses your fingertips before sinking his face between your mounds again. 

“I’m sorry, m’ sorry, it’s just… really? You’re insane.” He shakes his head, “But hey, maybe I just need to remind you." he kisses your neck before pulling back to look at you properly. "Yeah? Is that okay?”

You nod again, much quicker and sure this time. 

Before you can even ready yourself, you’re swept into the air with a yelp, clinging to his shoulders as he carries you up and over towards your room. When you look down, his face is barely visible, completely buried under your boobs.

“Can you even breathe?” you squeak out in a laugh. 

You feel him shake his head against you, “No. And I don’t care.”

A real laugh escapes you for the first time today, and another when he kicks open the bedroom door clumsily. His arm swipes away at all the shirts you had tried on earlier, knocking them off the bed and out of the way so he can lay you down.

“Baby, my clothes-”

“You didn’t like them right? So we’ll throw them out. And I’ll buy you new ones. You can try them all on until you find ones that fit you just how you like.” 

“You’re crazy.”

“About you.” He winks, laughing at his own low blow.

But the giggle that was bubbling up dies in your throat as he crawls between your legs and attaches his mouth to your nipple, hands instantly holding and squeezing and worshipping the areas his kisses can’t reach.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, head falling back against the pillows.

He doesn’t intend to be quiet in the slightest, moaning softly at your salty taste on his tongue, at the way your hips roll up instinctively to meet him when his teeth graze you just a bit too sharply. 

“Gentle,” you remind him half-heartedly.

He nods helplessly against you, sputtering out what you assume to be an apology.

“Shit, baby. I could do this all day.” He groans, leaving pecks down your sternum until he finally tears his hands off of you and drags them down to unlatch the button on your shorts. 

You blink down at him, mumbling out, “Need you.”

“I know,” he agrees, “I need you, too.”

You can’t help the heat that swells in your stomach when you notice how absolutely wrecked and desperate he’s growing. It's so easy to rile him up, you know that. You know how easily he gets turned on at the sight of you.

But at least until now, you've never seen him so completely at your disposal, so eager to please and feel you.

He’s completely hard, length pressing to your thighs and against your core as he shifts around, kissing you all over. 

But then, he notices the one place he’s been neglecting. 

He crawls back up, arms bracketing either side of you as his hands cup your face. 

“I love you.” he mumbles, then presses his lips to yours softly. He kisses you deeply, mouth moving against yours with so much care and deliverance. “You’re so, so beautiful. Don't ever question that. And definitely don’t ever question again whether or not I like your body.” 

“Okay.” You nod, really believing him as he pulls away. 

He kisses you once more before tugging his shirt over his head, slipping off his jeans and your shorts.

You writhe beneath him as his fingers find your cunt, sliding through to coat his fingers in your slick before pushing an experimental digit in.

“Need to stretch you out…” He mumbles, mostly to himself.

“Feels good,” you breathe out softly in response. 

He kisses the side of your boob once more, slipping another finger in and pulling them apart slightly to prep you. When you whimper out again at the lack of friction, he starts pumping them into you, nearly melting at the way you clench around him. 

The pad of his thumb circles once around your bud and your eyes flutter closed, stomach tightening as he works you open. 

“Think you’re ready for me?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out, “please.”

Keeho readjusts instantly at your plea, cooing softly when you whine as he withdraws his hand. He’s tugging his boxers down just enough to free himself and line himself up with your entrance within seconds. 

“You’re all I’ll ever want.” He promises, pushing his length inside of you slowly, watching your face for any signs of discomfort, “You, just like this. Exactly as you are, baby. You’re perfect.” 

There’s only bliss on your face—bliss and overwhelming love that bleeds from your eyes as they bat up at him when he presses his chest against yours.

His hand props one of your legs up on his hip to give himself more room to move, slowly at first, then picking up the pace when he senses you’ve adjusted.

There are no words to describe how fucking good it feels when your breasts spread as they’re flush against his, your warmth wrapping around him at the same time, your lips parted and spewing out his name.

“So pretty,” he reminds you, kissing you as he presses himself deep into your gummy walls, settling there for a moment to savor the feeling and taste the whimpers you feed into his mouth through your plump, o-shaped lips. “Move, Kyo… Please.” He obliges, cause how could he not give you everything you want? He bucks into you faster, skin slapping yours at the rhythm with his thrusts. He sits up slightly, wanting to see the way your chest bounces with every rock of his hips, wanting to look down where your bodies meet to watch himself sink over and over again into your core. He can't take his eyes off your pretty pebbled nipples, so you tease him by reaching your hands up to grab yourself and play with them. “My god,” He hisses, dick twitching at how unbelievably good you look, how much more confident you are, seeing the effect it has on him. “You like this?” You pant out, only slightly nervous, pressing them together and glancing up at him. The way his jaw slacks makes your head spin. “I love it,” He says tightly, voice strained from the way you’re gushing and squeezing around him. Knowing he won’t last much longer, he grabs both of your wrists and holds them to your chest with one hand, his free one reaching down to rub your clit. 

You cry out instantly, stringing pleas together incoherently as he works you so you can finish with him. 

“Yes, baby, like that,” 

“So good for me,” 

“Y’look so perfect,”

“I wanna feel you, please,” Everything he’s saying is lighting you on fire. Every drag of his cock through your walls has you gasping and reaching for him, his arms, his shoulders, anywhere you can get a hold of. His hands are everywhere too: wiping a stray tear that slips out of your eye from the pleasure, sticking this fingers in your mouth or his own when he needs to wet them so he can tend to your puffy clit easier, gripping your hips to lift you for a better angle or fondling your beautiful bouncing breasts so he can plop a kiss on them to stifle his moans. 

Your legs tighten around him to draw him closer as he presses his mouth to yours again, needing to be close when you come around him. It doesn't take much more than a simple “You’re making me feel so good,” uttered against your mouth before you let go, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm washes over you, instantly triggering his own release. 

He lets you ride out your high before he pulls out, painting your pretty pussy and stomach and tits with his load. He rubs himself until he’s shaking, until his tip is red and sensitive, before he collapses on top of you, both of you sticky with sweat and cum. “I hope you hate every shirt you buy from now on and none of them fit right.” He decides. 

Your eyes snap open, head perking up enough to glare at him. “What?” 

“Yup. You heard me.” His tone is unapologetic but his mouth is leaving the softest little kisses on your chest. “If you crash out again then I just get to fuck you again to remind you how pretty you are and how pretty they are,” he smushes your boobs together, propping himself up with the little strength he can muster to kiss each one again and again.

“You’re so annoying.” You grumble, not really meaning it. You're combing a hand through his hair as he looks up at you, eyes soft.

“Yes but in all seriousness, baby,” he starts, “I don’t wanna see you on the verge of tears like that again. We’ll go through every store on the strip and restock your wardrobe until you feel pretty in all your stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile. You shift uncomfortably a moment later and his brows furrow, eyes looking up at you even though his lips are still wrapped around your nipple. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your cum is literally sticking us together like glue right now and I want a shower.” You laugh, “I’m also starving cause we skipped our lunch plans to… well, do this.” 

He presses his lips to yours and smiles against them, “Okay,” he agrees with a chuckle, sitting up. “Let’s go. Order of business: shower, lunch, shopping. Sound good?” 

“Sounds more than good, baby.”