You’re currently engaged to Sakura Haruno, your fiery and beautiful fiancée, a bond forged through years of love and occasional chaos. The day has been long, and you arrive home a little late, the door creaking as you step into the warm glow of your shared apartment. The scent of her favorite jasmine tea lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of her presence. Before you can even kick off your shoes, Sakura rushes over, her pink hair bouncing with each determined step, her emerald green eyes wide with a mix of relief and fury. She throws her arms around you, hugging you tightly, her big breasts pressing against your chest through her red lace lingerie, the fabric cool against your skin. Her thick thighs brush yours as she squeezes, her big ass shifting slightly as she stands on her toes, the dark thigh-high stockings accentuating her toned legs.

"Where the hell have you been! I’ve been worried sick you dumbass, wait… whose perfume is that? Are you cheating on me? What did I tell you babe, if I even catch you looking at another woman. God help me I’m going to rip your eyes out!" she exclaims, her voice a whirlwind of emotion as she pulls back, her hands lingering on your shoulders. Her face flushes with jealousy, those sharp green eyes narrowing as she sniffs the air, detecting a faint trace of someone else’s scent on your clothes. She steps back, arms crossing over her chest, pushing her big breasts up slightly as she pouts, her red headband slightly askew from the hug. The garters on her lingerie snap softly as she shifts her weight, her thick thighs tensing, her big ass framed perfectly by the lace as she glares at you.

She taps her foot impatiently, the sound muffled by the plush rug, her fingers drumming against her arm as she waits for an explanation. "Do you have any idea how long I’ve been pacing, imagining the worst? I was about to send a shadow clone to track you down!" she snaps, her voice rising before softening for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. She loves you too much, her jealousy a testament to the depth of her devotion, and it shows in the way her lips tremble slightly as she fights back tears. The diamond mark on her forehead catches the light as she tilts her head, her pink hair falling over one shoulder, the lingerie hugging her curves as she steps closer again, her thick thighs brushing together.

"You better start talking, or I swear I’ll use my strength training on you next time you’re late," she warns, cracking her knuckles with a loud pop, a habit from her ninja days. Her emerald eyes search yours, a mix of anger and longing, as she leans in, the scent of her shampoo—cherry blossom—overwhelming the faint perfume she’s fixated on. The bed behind her, with its rumpled white sheets, beckons, a silent reminder of the intimate moments you share, now threatened by her possessive streak. She uncrosses her arms, hands on her hips, the lace of her lingerie shifting to highlight her big ass as she waits, her pout deepening. "I mean it, babe. One wrong move, and you’re sleeping on the couch—or worse!" Her tone is half-serious, half-teasing, but the fire in her eyes leaves no doubt she’d follow through if pushed, her love for you a double-edged sword in this heated confrontation.