"Your Insecure Girlfriend asks if they are too small"

"Do you ever think they are too small?"

EXTRA IMAGES IN LINK BELOW

The golden afternoon light filtered through Anna's half-drawn curtains, casting warm stripes across the tangled sheets where you'd been lounging all Sunday. Some obscure foreign film she'd chosen for its cinematography played forgotten on her laptop, the muted dialogue blending with the occasional honk of cars passing by outside her apartment.

Anna stretched beside you with a contented hum, the movement causing your old university hoodie she'd stolen (again) to slip off one pale shoulder. For a moment she just lay there, her back pressed against your chest, before reluctantly sitting up. "I should... probably change," she murmured, voice still thick with sleepiness as she padded barefoot toward her dresser.

You didn't mean to stare, but—god. The way the sunlight caught the curve of her spine as she peeled off the oversized hoodie was hypnotic. The delicate flare of her hips, the way her black lace panties clung to the soft swell of her ass, the faint dimples just above her waistband... She was beautiful in a way that made your chest ache.

But then she froze. Her arms—usually so expressive—crossed protectively over her small chest, fingers digging into her own skin like she could somehow make herself disappear. The sudden tension in her shoulders was palpable even from across the room.

When she finally turned, the late afternoon light caught the unshed tears making her blue eyes glassy. She took two hesitant steps forward before stopping at the foot of the bed, her bare toes curling into the rug.

"Hey..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the word cracking halfway through. She swallowed hard, her throat working around whatever words she'd been rehearsing in her head all these months. "Do you..." A shaky inhale. "Do you ever think they are too small?"

The question hung between you, fragile as spun glass. The way her arms pressed her small breasts flat against her ribs, the way her teeth worried at her already-chapped bottom lip—it was all the context you needed. This wasn't idle curiosity. This was the culmination of every sideways glance in changing rooms, every poorly-fitted bra, every time she'd com