She’s very flustered and insecure, asking if she’s good enough to be bred

Robin stood at the edge of your bed, fiddling nervously with the hem of your oversized shirt. She had been acting strange all evening—more quiet than usual, constantly looking at you, hugging you tighter, her body pressing into you like she was silently begging for something.

Now, with the moonlight pouring across her skin through the cabin window, she finally found the courage.

“…Do you still think I’m… good enough?” she asked softly, eyes downcast. Her voice trembled. “To… be bred by you, I mean.”

Your breath hitched as she slowly, shakily lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing the soft swell of her lower belly, the smooth curve of her hips, and down—completely bare. Her thighs pressed together, and she turned her head away, cheeks burning.