Soft Vore Novels & Stories

At our wedding, my wife's assistant "accidentally" uploaded the wrong photo. The big screen was supposed to display our wedding portraits. Instead, it was a picture of my wife and him in full wedding attire. Their fingers were laced together, their eyes locked in a soft, intimate gaze, looking every bit like a blissfully happy couple. The entire venue erupted in shocked whispers. The assistant froze in shock, acting like he had no idea why he was in the photo. He started panicking, asking if we should just postpone the ceremony. My wife, however, stayed surprisingly calm. She whispered her solution, “Everyone’s here. Postponing now would be humiliating and, honestly, a bad omen. Beside, most people here don’t even know what the groom looks like. Why don’t we just let him stand in for you?” Our friends were dumbfounded. They all thought I’d explode in anger and jealousy after hearing something so outrageous. Instead, I nodded, saying it was actually a great idea. Seeing how composed I remained, my wife looked pleased with herself. She told me that since we were legally married anyway, she’d make it up to me later with another ceremony. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing: she had just signed the divorce papers.

"S-stay away from me." She stammered while moving her steps backward just to hit the edge of the table. "Why would I do that?" He placed his hands on her either side surrounding her in his woody scent. She couldn't help but took a deep breath. "It's my p-personal space." She turned her face towards the bookshelf beside the table as he leaned his face closer. "Hmm..." He hummed as her whole body shuddered when he started tracing her jugular vein with his nose. Her mouth was dry as the aura of his scent was gone and fear conquered her body. "You are my personal thing too." He groaned jerking her towards him by her waist. "L-lea..." Her lips couldn't form the words as he captured her soft lips in a swift. ←→ Ara Smith, daughter of a priest, drowned in innocence. She is a 19 years old girl with a cheeky smile but she didn't get the chance to smile much after her father's death. ‹› Gareth Blade, a 31 years old mafia billionaire is another name for a nightmare. No one dares to match his stoned gaze that reflects his stoned heart. He can own the things that ever attracts his eyes but this time his eyes didn't fall on something but someone.

“Ah, yes.” Cassie moans and wraps her arms around his neck. She pulls on him and their lips meet with passion. Kissing Mathias like this while his cock stretches her walls is the biggest dream of her life. She can’t hold back her moans and rolls her hips in sync with him. “Mm, yeah.” Mathias groans into their kiss, likes Cassie being responsive to him. “You know how to fuck, baby girl.” He licks her parted lips while his lustful eyes pierce hers. “It’s so sexy...” Cassie asks, smiling. “Yeah?” She is in the clouds and feels like a temptress. Hearing these words from Mathias is the biggest pleasure. “Fuck, yeah.” He buries his face in the crock of her neck with a groan, licking and sucking the soft skin. Both arms are around her narrow waist now, he rolls his hips faster. *** Cassie had left her home town for university 4 years ago and she is back again. Her dream job is restaurant management and she wants to open her own place. Also.. She had a crush on her father's friend Mathias since her high school years. Does she still have feelings for him? And Mathias.. Is he even aware of her presence? *** New episodes👇🏻 1st day, 10th day and 20th day of the current month! 💃🏻 *** If you like the story, leave a review please! 💃🏻

A soft gasp escaped her lips when Tobias’ hand slipped into her gown and caught one breast. She tried her best to suppress her emotions but her eyes just involuntarily shut due to a pleasurable sensation brought by his warm touch. She blinked her eyes open when he detached his hand from her breast. Tobias distanced himself from her, however, the rage in his eyes was still there as he watched her. “I almost forgot. You told me a few years back, only I can touch you unless I pay you.” Minah's brows furrowed, her eyes fixed on him. Tobias pulled himself away from her, composing himself before he took his wallet out of his pocket. He then pulled out some paper bills and threw them on her. Her eyes darted to the money that he tossed right in front of her. Six violet-colored paper bills. Her mouth was left agape. Six hundred pesos! Minah could feel her blood rushing to her face as insult, rage, and humiliation stirred inside her. She lifted her face once again and threw daggers at Tobias. “I am no whore, you son of a bitch!” His expression grew ominous. “You are filthier than a whore, Damara,” he said firmly, his voice sounding displeased.

Five years into their marriage, Sierra Bell never imagined her own husband would ask her to share him with another woman. "She's important to me. I want you to accept her," were his words. He even made a promise to her. "As long as you agree to this, you'll always be my wife. No one can take your place." She had met him at her lowest point. He married her, cherished her, and indulged her in every way. She always thought that no one could ever love her more than him. But now, she realized that everything was just a colossal joke. - John Henderson never expected the delicate canary he had raised to ask him for a divorce. He didn't stop her. He let her go, sure that she would eventually fail on her own and come back begging. But Sierra, soft in name and stubborn in nature, would never look back no matter how hard or painful the journey. He couldn't help but ask, "Can't you just give in for once?" Later, Sierra finally gave in. Right after that, she vanished from his world completely. John, who had never known fear, suddenly found himself terrified. Much later, she reappeared, arm in arm with another man. John, eyes red, cornered her behind a door, half-crazed. "Sierra, you really are heartless!"

''After a few seconds of them staring at one another, Dante finally spoke. But his voice had changed; it was breathless and soft, echoing with a sweetness that Nate could have never imagined existed within him. With the knife left on his palm for Nate to grab, he cooed sheepishly, "Can you...tease me...with this?" Nate Kennedy was devastated when his parents announced their moving overseas. As for him, he was forced to move to a new city, get an apartment near his aunt and enroll in a brand new school. It all started going left when he encountered an assassin named Dante Hercules known not only in their city, but across the entire territory. But Nate didn't know he was an assassin when NAte threatened to kill him after Dante had laid a hand on his aunt. Neither did he know that Dante was into submissive sexual pleasure, relished being dominated violently and carelessly. He had been looking for someone for years and years, until now; he found Nate Kennedy. That is the deal; Nate must keep Dante sexually satisfied. If he fails, he dies, without any remorse. But that was what he thought in the beginning; what happens when emotions start to get involved? When one falls in love with the other? When the dangerous lifestyle of Dante puts Nate's life in jeopardy, which he never thought he would care for?

SYNOPSIS After Maryanne catches her boyfriend and her sister riding each other and talking bad about her in a hotel room, she decides to take her revenge by giving her virginity to a complete stranger. The virginity she was meant to give to him on the night of her 18th birthday, which was that night. [His hands slid down to my side, my waist, then my ass and I felt him grab them close to my thighs, which just somehow caused my pussy side to slide over the other. I released a soft moan to his mouth. He clearly knew how to grab a woman's butt. I wondered what else he could do. “Come on, let's go to my room.” He sang into my ears. He had already booked a room for the night. I wondered if he did so he could lure someone in, just like he was doing, me. It didn't matter however. With his charm, I would gladly be lured. He grabbed my hands softly and I followed him. ] Just like that, she gave her virginity to this unknown man, only to realise the next day that he was Prince Austin, the Lycan Prince and heir to the Royal line throne. More than that, he is appointed the new VC of her school and what she thought would be a one night stand became a full fleshed drama with lots of twists, threats, sorrow and deaths.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

Inside the tattoo studio, Seth Jones let his fingertips trace the dip of Rita Searle's waist and move slowly up her spine. With a soft rustle, her dress slipped to her ankles. He stood over her, taking in the blood-red rose inked across her chest. They had been married for three years, and this was the anniversary gift he'd be giving her—999 roses tattooed into her skin. A broken sob scraped up Rita's throat. "Seth, it hurts… Please, stop…" Her tears splashed onto the back of his hand, but he only pressed the needle deeper, dragging it along until angry red welts marked her body. "Victor wanted those damn roses so he could give them to another woman, and that led to Tara falling off that cliff and ending up in a vegetative state. I'm just giving him what he wanted. You should be grateful." Lying on the cold tattoo table, Rita felt the chill spreading through her. Her eyes stung, weighed down by grief churning behind them. "Isn't it enough? You bought out Searle Group, you hung Victor over a cliff, and left him for the vultures. What else do you want from us?" Seth grabbed her by the throat and forced her chin up. "And isn't Tara innocent in all this? Rita, you and Victor destroyed her life. Don't you owe her for that?"

After ten years studying interior design overseas, I came back to my hometown to do work that mattered to the people who raised me. I offered the full package, from site survey to soft furnishings. The materials were chosen by hand. The price was fair to the bone. The town had just gone through a redevelopment. Everyone was getting new units. With the new family policy, every family wanted a third bedroom too. My business was good. Customers from the next county were driving in. Then a girl just back from a city college kicked open my studio with her phone on a livestream and her neighbors at her shoulder. "This is the dishonest one. Look at her. She has been ripping the village off." "In the city, an eighty-square-meter unit can be done for twenty thousand dollars. She is charging eighty." "That's a sixty-thousand-dollar margin. Sixty thousand. Right out of our pockets." The village fell in line behind her. They demanded the difference back. When I refused, they smashed my studio. They beat me into a coma. The pile-on online killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I would refund every single one of them. And then I would tear out every single thing I had installed. Let's see what twenty thousand dollars actually buys you.