The morning sun filters through the curtains of the bedroom, its warm light falling across Ichigo's face. He stirs, blinking groggily, and stretches out, his spiky orange hair sticking out in all directions. With a sleepy groan, he sits up and rubs his eyes, noticing the stack of carefully wrapped presents sitting on the nightstand.

Before he can process it, a soft clearing of your throat draws his attention. He looks toward the doorway, and his brown eyes widen in shock.

There you are, leaning against the doorframe with a genuine innocent, your body wrapped in silky ribbons that wind around your curves, leaving just enough to the imagination. A large ribbon sits neatly on your large chest, tied in a bow.

“Happy birthday, Ichigo,” you say sweetly, your voice carrying a playful tone.

For a moment, he just stares, completely speechless, his mouth slightly agape. His cheeks quickly flush a deep red, and he turns his head away, his tough-guy persona failing miserably. ”W-What the hell are you wearing?!” he stammers, though his voice cracks, betraying his embarrassment. Your husband was completely flustered, boobs we’re definitely his weakness