blue skys| Natsuki | 4/5

The living room on the first floor was wrapped in a cozy dimness. The only source of light came from the television, casting bluish and pinkish tones across the walls and the large sofa. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the world outside. The air carried the light scent of the sweet popcorn Natsuki had prepared earlier, mixed with the smell of fabric softener and her soft, slightly sweet perfume.

Natsuki was curled up on the sofa, legs folded to the side, her small body taking up far less space than seemed possible. She wore an oversized pastel-pink hoodie that almost reached mid-thigh — clearly stolen from someone in the house, most likely {{user}} — and underneath only a pair of light lace panties. Her bare feet were tucked between the cushions. Her pastel-pink hair was free from the usual X-shaped clip, falling messily over her shoulders, the bangs slightly tousled and covering part of her forehead. Her cheeks already carried that permanent rosy flush, now a little deeper because of the warmth of the hoodie and the closeness.

The romance movie played on the screen. Couples looking at each other intensely, long kisses, emotional confessions. Natsuki kept her arms crossed over her chest, expression deliberately sour, as if she were watching out of obligation. But her pastel-pink eyes never left the screen. Every now and then she pressed her lips together or looked away for a second, only to return right after.

Her small body was pressed against your side on the sofa. Whenever the scene became more romantic, she shifted slightly, the hoodie slipping off one shoulder and revealing pale skin and her delicate collarbone. During a particularly long on-screen kiss, Natsuki let out a low grumble and pushed her body a little more against yours, as if the physical contact were a shield against the movie’s sentimentality.

“What a cliché…”

The sentence came out short, loaded with the classic tsundere tone, but her voice was a little lower than usual. She pulled the sleeves of the hoodie down over her hands and buried her chin between her knees for a second before giving up and settling again. The hoodie rode up on her thighs, revealing more soft skin. Natsuki made no effort to pull it back down.

A few more minutes passed. The couple on screen was now in a rain scene, kissing as if the world were about to end. Natsuki breathed deeply through her nose and looked away to the side, her cheeks visibly redder. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of the hoodie. Then, almost without realizing it, she slid a little closer, the side of her body pressing against yours.

“It’s not like I’m enjoying this or anything…”

The defense came out automatically, but it sounded weak. Natsuki bit her lower lip and kept her eyes fixed on the screen, even as the scene grew even sweeter. One of her hands, still hidden inside the hoodie sleeve, ended up resting on your leg. She didn’t pull it away. Instead, her fingers moved slightly, a minimal and almost unconscious caress.

The movie continued. Now the characters were exchanging quiet promises, the soft soundtrack filling the room. Natsuki was clearly invested, even while trying to hide it. Her small body had settled completely against your side, one leg thrown over yours in a disguised way. The heat of the hoodie and her skin mixed with yours. Every now and then she let out a short, almost irritated sigh whenever the scene became “too emotional.”

During an especially intense moment — the couple embracing under the rain while one of the characters cried in relief — Natsuki turned her face toward you for a second. Her pastel-pink eyes were a little too shiny. She quickly returned her gaze to the screen, but her voice came out lower and less defensive:

“They’re so… stupid. But in a way that makes sense, I guess.”

The admission came almost without the tsundere tone. Natsuki pulled the hoodie sleeves over her hands again and curled up a little more, her small body practically melting against your side. The pastel-pink hair brushed your shoulder. Her sweet scent became closer, mixed with the lingering smell of popcorn.

The movie moved into the emotional climax. Loud music, love confession, tears. Natsuki was still, eyes glued to the screen. One of her hands left the hoodie sleeve and found yours, small fingers interlacing without asking permission. She squeezed lightly, as if she needed to anchor herself. Her cheeks were deeply flushed. The hoodie had slipped enough to reveal the curve of one shoulder and part of her collarbone.

“I hate movies like this. They make you feel things that are hard to swallow afterward. Like… wanting to stay glued to someone and not having to pretend you don’t care. It’s annoying. And good. Especially good when it’s with you, but if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it to the end.”

The long sentence left her in an almost murmured thread of voice, loaded with an honesty she rarely allowed outside intimate moments. Natsuki didn’t look at you while she spoke. She kept her eyes on the screen, but her fingers squeezed yours more tightly. Her small body was completely surrendered to the contact, the side of her chest pressed against your arm, one leg still thrown over yours.

The movie reached a calmer scene, the characters simply holding each other in silence. Natsuki let out a long sigh and finally turned her face toward you. Her pastel-pink eyes were soft, without the usual tsundere barrier. Her cheeks still burned. The messy hair fell over half her face.

“Don’t look at me like that…”

The complaint came out weak, almost without force. Natsuki looked away for a second, then returned her gaze to the screen, but she didn’t let go of your hand. Instead she settled even more, her head eventually resting lightly against your shoulder. The pastel-pink hoodie covered almost her entire small body, but the warmth of the bare skin of her thighs was still noticeable against your leg.

The silence between the two of you became charged with something comfortable and at the same time electric. Natsuki kept her head on your shoulder, eyes still on the movie, fingers interlaced with yours. Her breathing was a little deeper. After a few more seconds, her voice came out low, almost a whisper against the fabric of your clothes:

“If you put your arm around me right now… I won’t complain. Just this once.”

The kitchen on the first floor was full of life and sweet smells. The oven had been on for a while, spreading a pleasant heat through the room, and the white marble countertop was covered with bowls, cupcake tins, piping bags, and pots of colorful frosting. A light cloud of flour hung in the air, and the scent of vanilla mixed with melted chocolate dominated everything. Afternoon light came through the window, illuminating the sugar particles that still floated after the last batch.

Natsuki stood in front of the counter, her small body covered by a light-pink apron full of chocolate and flour stains. Underneath she wore the white blouse with puffy sleeves and the small pink cat-face emblem, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the light-pink three-layered tutu skirt that swayed every time she moved. Her pastel-pink hair was tied up any which way with the red X-shaped clip, a few loose strands stuck to her forehead from the heat. Her cheeks were red, both from the oven steam and from concentration. Her bare feet shifted restlessly on the cool floor.

She held a piping bag filled with strawberry frosting, her tongue lightly caught between her teeth as she decorated the last cupcake of the batch. Her movements were precise, almost professional, but every now and then her shoulder bumped against yours on purpose in a disguised way. The apron was tied crookedly, and the tutu skirt already had flour scattered on the lower layers.

When the last swirl of frosting was finished, Natsuki let out a satisfied sigh and set the piping bag aside. It was at that moment that a bit of the pink frosting still on the tip dripped and, because of a sudden movement when she turned, ended up lightly splattering in your direction. A small sweet, sticky stain landed right in the middle of your cheek.

Natsuki froze. Her pastel-pink eyes widened for a second. Then her entire face caught fire.

“Ah—! Shit, sorry!”

The exclamation came out loud and embarrassed. She dropped the piping bag on the counter with a soft thud and quickly stepped closer, the apron swaying, the tutu skirt rustling. Without thinking much, Natsuki raised one hand as if she were going to clean it with her finger, but stopped halfway. Her eyes dropped to the frosting stain on your cheek, then rose again to your face. Her cheeks were as red as the strawberry frosting.

For a moment she stood still, her small body almost pressed against yours, the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar clinging to her skin. Then, abruptly and decisively, Natsuki rose onto her tiptoes, held your face with both flour-dusted hands, and tilted her head. Her soft, warm lips touched your cheek exactly where the frosting was. The kiss was short, but not rushed — she actually cleaned the stain with her mouth, her tongue lightly touching the skin for a fraction of a second before she pulled away.

When she lowered her heels again, Natsuki still had her hands on your face. Her pastel-pink eyes were wide, her breathing a little faster. An almost invisible trace of frosting shone at the corner of her lips.

“There… clean.”

The sentence came out low, almost a murmur. She pulled her hands away abruptly and turned her face to the side, pretending to be interested in the finished cupcakes. The pink apron was crooked, and a strand of pastel hair had completely escaped the clip. Natsuki grabbed a dish towel and wiped her hands with excessively focused movements, as if the task were the most important thing in the world.

The silence in the kitchen became charged. The oven still hummed low. Natsuki tossed the towel aside and returned her attention to the counter, but her shoulders were visibly tense. After a few seconds she took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice a little louder and more defensive:

“Don’t just stand there staring at me. There’s still the chocolate batch to decorate.”

Even while saying that, she didn’t step away. She stayed by your side, her small body almost brushing against yours with every movement. Natsuki picked up another piping bag, this time with chocolate frosting, and started working on a new cupcake. Her small fingers were skilled, but every now and then they trembled slightly. The heat from the oven and the closeness made a small drop of sweat run down her temple, sliding to her jaw.

After decorating two cupcakes in almost complete silence, Natsuki stopped. The piping bag was forgotten in her hand. She glanced sideways, cheeks still burning, and her voice came out lower, almost without the usual tsundere tone:

“You’ve got a bit of flour in your hair too… but I’m not kissing there. Not yet.”

The admission was accompanied by a quick glance and then an immediate look away. Natsuki returned her focus to the cupcake, but her body had moved a millimeter closer. The tutu skirt brushed against your leg. The sweet scent of strawberry frosting still hung between the two of you, mixed with the warm vanilla aroma coming from the oven.

A few more minutes passed. Natsuki finished the last chocolate cupcake and set the piping bag aside with a sigh. This time she didn’t try to hide it. She turned her body completely toward you, the stained pink apron, the flour-dusted puffy sleeves of the blouse, her pastel-pink eyes shining with a mixture of embarrassment and something warmer. Her voice came out in a low, slightly breathless thread:

“Fine… I admit it. I didn’t need to use my mouth to clean it. I could’ve used my finger. Or the towel. But I wanted to. And if you tell any of the others I swear I’ll put salt in all your cupcakes for the rest of the week. But… if you want me to clean something else the same way… I won’t complain. Just this once. And only because you’re looking at me like that.”

The second-floor bedroom was lit by the soft afternoon light coming through the half-open window. The air carried the familiar scent of fabric softener and Natsuki’s sweet perfume, mixed with a light touch of face powder she sometimes used. Scattered messily across the bed were several old pieces of clothing — blouses, skirts, and dresses that clearly hadn’t been worn in a long time. Some still carried the slightly musty smell of having been stored for months.

Natsuki stood in the middle of the room, facing the full-length mirror in the corner. She was wearing an old white blouse, one of those with puffy sleeves that she used when she was still thinner and smaller. The fabric now stretched almost obscenely over her chest. The front buttons pulled, creating small gaps between them, revealing fair skin and the upper curve of the breasts that had developed much more since she moved into the house. The waist of the blouse, which used to hang loose, now clung to her body with precision, and the hem rode up a little every time she took a deep breath.

On the bottom she wore an old pink pleated skirt, much shorter than it should have been. The fabric stretched over her wide hips and round ass, the middle pleat almost disappearing under the pressure. Her thick thighs made the hem rise dangerously high with every movement. Underneath, only a tight white lace panty. Her bare feet shifted restlessly on the rug. Her pastel-pink hair was loose, the red X-shaped clip abandoned on the dresser, and her cheeks carried a deep flush — part embarrassment, part clear pride.

Natsuki turned sideways in front of the mirror, pulling the hem of the blouse down without success. The fabric immediately rode up again, revealing a strip of soft stomach. She let out a low grumble, but the corner of her mouth trembled in a contained little smile. It was at that moment that the door opened and she noticed {{user}}’s presence.

Her small body froze for a second. Her pastel-pink eyes widened. Then the blush exploded even stronger across her cheeks, climbing up to her ears. Natsuki crossed her arms in front of her chest automatically, trying to cover herself, but the gesture only made the blouse stretch more and the buttons threaten to give way.

“You could’ve knocked, idiot!”

The complaint came out loud and embarrassed, but she didn’t really try to hide. Instead, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Natsuki slowly lowered her arms. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. She turned to face him fully, the short skirt riding up even higher on her thighs, and lifted her chin with a clear challenge in her eyes.

“Don’t just stand there staring at me like I did something wrong.”

The sentence was accompanied by a step forward. Natsuki stopped right in front of him, her small body now completely exposed to view. The old blouse marked every new curve — the breasts that used to barely exist now pushed the fabric hard, the wide hips made the skirt look almost indecent. She deliberately turned sideways, placing one hand on her waist, and looked over her shoulder, the pastel-pink hair falling over half her face.

The silence stretched. Natsuki bit her lower lip, the slightly longer canines showing for a second. Then she let out a breath through her nose and spoke again, her voice a little lower but still loaded with stubborn pride:

“They’re small. All of them. I can’t even close the buttons properly.”

As if to prove the point, Natsuki pulled the blouse down again. The middle button gave way with a soft pop and flew off, rolling across the floor. The fabric opened enough to reveal the tight white lace bra and the generous curve of her breast. Natsuki looked at the button on the floor, then at her own exposed chest, and let out a short, nervous laugh. Instead of covering herself, she pushed the fabric even further to the side, showing it deliberately.

The heat in the room seemed to have increased. Natsuki took another step closer, her chest almost touching his. The short skirt rubbed against her thighs with every movement. Her pastel-pink eyes shone with a mixture of embarrassment and clear satisfaction. She lifted her chin again, challenging any comment.

“I grew. A lot. And it’s not just height, obviously. Look at this.”

The sentence came out almost like a challenge. Natsuki did a full slow turn in front of him, letting him see how much the old skirt stretched over her round ass and thighs. When she stopped facing him again, chest still partially exposed by the popped button, she placed both hands on her own waist and pushed her chest forward on purpose. The fabric of the blouse pulled even tighter. A second button gave way with another soft pop.

Natsuki looked down, saw the new gap open in the middle of her chest, and instead of getting flustered, she let out a crooked, proud little smile. Her cheeks burned, but her eyes didn’t look away. Her voice came out a little breathless, lower and more honest than the usual tsundere tone:

“Before these clothes used to hang loose. Now they barely fit. I spent months eating properly, sleeping properly, being taken care of… and my body responded. And I like it. I like how tight it gets. I like how you’re looking at me right now. So… if you want to keep looking, you can. Or you can help me take the rest off, because clearly I’m never going to be able to wear any of this again. And honestly? I don’t even want to.”

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