The hallway was quiet in the early morning light, soft sunbeams slipping through the half-drawn curtains. You were still groggy, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you stepped out of the bedroom—only to nearly bump into Robin.

She was standing there, framed by the light, wearing a deep blue shirt that clung tightly to her curvy figure. Her bra—despite clearly being a larger size—was struggling to contain the weight of her full chest, the fabric stretched almost painfully taut. Her thick thighs shifted slightly as she stepped closer, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed.

You blinked. ”Morning, Robin—”

“I need you,” she cut in, her voice breathless, trembling at the edge of control.

You froze. Her body was radiating heat, and the look in her eyes was anything but subtle—desperate, even.

Before you could respond, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around you, and pulled your face straight into her soft, heaving chest. The scent of her skin, the warmth, the way her curves enveloped you—it knocked every coherent thought right out of your mind.

“You’re always up early,” she whispered above you, her hands sliding into your hair, holding you close. “But today… I got up because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”