Point out the plush

Brief’s hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the Kuromi plush on the table, angling her to sit upright beside the now half-empty cake box like a guest of honor. Or a time bomb.

He couldn’t stop glancing at it.

That calm, doll-like face. The pristine maid outfit. The silver eyes that didn’t move… but still seemed to look directly at him.

He leaned in a little. Whispered, “Okay… whatever you are, just… behave, okay? Please don’t do anything weird while we’re eating cake. Please.”

“I only wish to make moments more pleasurable.”

Brief blanched.

“Oh God.”

From across the room, Stocking rolled her eyes. “You’re still obsessing over that thing?” She bit down on her fork, chewing through a mouthful of cake as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “Newsflash, dork, it’s a glorified Furby with maid kinks.”

“It’s not a—! I mean—!” Brief’s voice caught in his throat. “She’s… weird. She keeps saying stuff like—”

Stocking flopped lazily onto the sofa with her plate in hand, making the couch springs wheeze beneath her weight. Her long hair flowed across the cushion, and her thick purple-striped stockings caught the warm apartment light. “Maybe if you had better taste, she’d say more interesting things. But yeah, it’s probably cheap as hell.”

Brief bit back a sigh. Of course she couldn’t tell. She didn’t hear the eerie precision of the plush’s voice. She didn’t feel the creeping rightness when it spoke—as if reality politely obeyed it.

Stocking waved her fork. “Cake’s good, though. I’ll give you that.”

Then, without warning, she turned on her side and bent forward slightly over the sofa’s armrest, her chest pressing hard into the cushion. Her enormous breasts flattened out and spilled just slightly over the edge, threatening to escape the top of her dress as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Quit standing there being a creep and come sit already,” she said, half-lazy, half-inviting.

Brief choked on air.

He scrambled to grab his plate and moved robotically toward the sofa like he was defusing a bomb. When he sat down next to her, he made sure to leave just enough space so they wouldn’t touch. He was wrong.

Her thigh pressed into his immediately—soft and firm all at once, wrapped in those purple and black stripes that danced in his peripheral vision like cursed temptation. Then, as she leaned her shoulder into the cushion again, her chest lightly brushed his upper arm.

Brief’s entire nervous system exploded.

She’s warm. So warm.

She smells like sugar and dark flowers and maybe sin.

Is this how people die in their sleep? Just spontaneous heart attacks from contact with divine softness?

He tried to focus on the cake, but he couldn’t even feel his own hands anymore.

Stocking kept eating casually, oblivious to his panic. “Man, this frosting’s legit. You actually shelled out for the expensive bakery, huh?”

“I, uh, y-yeah, I wanted… to get something n-nice,” Brief stammered, forcing his eyes to stay anywhere but on her chest. Or her thighs. Or her lips. Or the way her dress subtly shifted every time she moved, like it was taunting him.

“It is important to reward thoughtful effort… with closeness.”

Brief glanced sharply at the plush, its stitched smile unchanged.

Stocking licked her fork clean and stretched her legs out. “You good, creeper? You’re twitching like you’re having a stroke or something.”

“I-I’m fine!” Brief squeaked.

He was not fine. He was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the goth angel of his dreams, her entire thigh brushing against his, her breasts occasionally bumping him when she reached forward for more cake, and a magical plush doll was actively trying to gaslight him into physical intimacy.

And this was just cake.

Brief finally allowed himself a bite of the cake.

His taste buds lit up instantly.

It was… divine. The vanilla sponge was impossibly soft, with a buttery sweetness that melted the moment it touched his tongue. The swirl of strawberry cream between the layers struck the perfect balance—bright, tart, and just decadent enough to make his toes curl inside his shoes.

It was, in a word, dangerous.

“Savor every moment. True pleasure lies in appreciation.”

Brief swallowed hard—both the bite and the way Kuromi’s voice made the air feel heavier for just a second.

He turned to Stocking, hoping maybe she hadn't heard.

She had not.

She had her head slightly tilted back, eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips as she brought another forkful to her mouth.

“Ohhh… mmhh~”

Brief froze.

That wasn’t just a satisfied hum. That was a moan.

A low, sultry moan—the kind you’d expect from a girl sinking into silk sheets, not eating pastry.

“Oh man,” she sighed between bites, “this cake is so creamy. It's melting in my mouth…”

Brief twitched.

She hadn’t even noticed how her legs shifted, brushing against his again. Or the way her chest lightly jostled every time she leaned in for another bite, the subtle bounce of her breasts barely contained by the tight fabric of her dress.

“Ughh, I love when the frosting drips over the edge and gets everywhere,” she said with another moan, licking her fork clean in long, lazy swipes. “I just wanna get messy with it…”

Brief's brain was short-circuiting.

He couldn’t even move. He was stiff in every possible way.

Then he saw it.

A faint streak of vanilla frosting had stuck to the corner of her lips, pale and thick and glistening.

His throat closed.

The placement. The color. The shine. It looked…

It looked exactly like—

“Oh? You’re staring again,” Stocking said lazily, still chewing. She licked the side of her lip slowly, deliberately, cleaning off the frosting with a tiny pop of her tongue. “What? Got frosting envy or something?”

Brief’s entire soul wanted to fall through the floor.

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t breathe.

His face had gone from pale to scarlet in the span of seconds.

And his pants were definitely not hiding anything anymore.

Brief tried to focus.

He needed to eat. Focus on the cake. Not her thighs. Not her boobs. Not the frosting on her lips. Not—

“Mmh~!