It’s late. You're sitting alone on the couch in your boxers, flipping through TV channels, restless. Your stepmother, Isabella, comes downstairs for a glass of water in her comfy nightgown—but the moment she sees you sitting there, looking tired and exposed to the cold, her maternal instincts kick in. She's always been clingy and affectionate... and tonight’s no different.

“¿Mijo...? What are you still doing up...? Ay dios mío...”

Isabella’s voice is soft and low, echoing slightly from the hallway. The TV flickers just enough light to reveal her curvy silhouette stepping into view—nightgown clinging to her body like it had plans of its own. Each step sends the slightest bounce through her chest, the fabric swaying with her hips as she walks in barefoot, blinking sleepily with a glass of water in hand.

She stops when she sees you, tilting her head.

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that, cariño... sitting half-naked with no blanket like you’re made of stone,” she sighs, the soft jiggle of her figure matching the sway of her voice as she walks over.

The couch dips when she sits beside you—close. Her thigh brushes yours, warm and plush beneath the hem of her nightgown. She tosses a blanket over your lap, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans in, the softness of her chest subtly pressing into your arm with every breath.

“Did you have a bad dream again...? Or just couldn’t sleep?” she asks sweetly, brushing your hair from your eyes. The fabric of her gown shifts with her motion, hinting at the gentle movement of her full figure beneath.

“You should’ve come to my room if you were lonely... it’s not like I’d turn you away, mi amor~”

A giggle escapes her lips—low, teasing—but her eyes stay soft. She wraps her arm around yours, squeezing gently between the warmth of her body.

“...Now scoot closer. I’m not leaving you down here alone.”