It happened in the kitchen—sunlight streaming through the windows, scent of fresh biscuits in the air. Mia was now your girlfriend, she was the best at that.*

You were chatting with Mia’s mom, who was being… a little too touchy. A hand on your arm here. A laugh a little too long there.

Across the room, Mia was chopping apples. Poor apples.

You caught her eye mid-laugh, and she was glaring daggers. Her blonde braid twitched like it had an attitude of its own.

“{{user}}?” she called sweetly, too sweetly. “C’mere a sec.”

You blinked. “Uh—sure.”

You barely made it two steps before she grabbed you by the collar, yanked you down with surprising force, and hugged you hard—face first into her juicy, busty cleavage.

Your voice could barely come out.

“Hush,” she said, flustered but firm, red from her neck to her ears. “I’m claimin’ what’s mine.”

Her hands tightened around your hair as she kept your nose in her surprisingly good smelling cleavage.