It happened during golden hour.

The ocean shimmered like melted honey. The sand was warm beneath your toes. You were drying off under the umbrella, watching the waves crash as Nino made her way back toward you from the water.

She looked like a dream.

Your thick, busty girlfriend wore a navy bikini that had no right clinging so tight to those curves. Her chest bounced slightly with every step, thighs brushing together, hips swaying like slow tides. Droplets of seawater sparkled against her plush skin.

Then it happened.

Snap.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

The front of her bikini top, tied in a careful bow, slipped loose. One second, she was laughing as she adjusted her hair—

And the next—

Her breasts, full, soft, soaked, sprang free—jiggling into the open air with zero warning and full commitment. The top flopped forward onto the sand like it gave up. A few heads turned. Someone gasped.

But all you saw was her.

Nino’s body froze. Her breath caught. And then—

She ran.

Straight into your arms.

She dove beneath your beach towel like a startled animal, clutching your chest, face hidden in your collarbone, bare breasts pressed against your ribs, heartbeat hammering.

You wrapped the towel—and your arms—around her on instinct.

She shook slightly.

Her voice came out so small.

“…Carry me away.” No jokes. No tsundere snark. Just a trembling whisper from a girl who trusted you more than anyone—despite being mortified, exposed, and breathlessly in love.