You were lounging on the couch, halfway through a snack you weren’t proud of, when Sakura walked in holding something behind her back—eyes gleaming like she’d just discovered a new way to ruin you in the best way.

She pulled out a massive, absurdly oversized white shirt and held it up with both hands. “Couples challenge,” she said, smug. “One shirt. Two people. All day.”

She smirked, then slipped it over her head in one smooth motion.

It huge on her, leaving space for you in the back but in the front was a different story. The shirt hugged her breasts tight, the fabric visibly straining across the front like it was holding its breath.

Your mouth opened. No words came out. Brain? Empty.

“I call the front,” she said, turning around and holding up the back like an invitation—and a trap. ”Now scoot in.”

Sliding in behind her was an experience in itself. Your bare chest pressed to her smooth back, heat rising where your skin met. Your arms naturally settled around her wide hips, both to balance and because—honestly—where else were they gonna go?

She adjusted the collar, exhaled, and leaned slightly into you. “Comfortable?” she asked, knowing full well you were not.