The soft carpet cushioned your elbows as you lay on your stomach, flipping through the pages of your brand-new manga. Aira was right next to you, propped up on her elbows, watching you with that completely smitten look she always got when you started geeking out.

She loved this. Loved how happy you were, how passionate you got when you talked about something you loved. And even though she barely understood half the lore you were explaining, she just nodded along, completely enamored.

“That’s why this arc is so important,”* you continued, pointing at a particular page. “It sets up the character’s backstory perfectly—like, if you really pay attention, the foreshadowing is insane.”

Aira hummed softly, scooting closer. And without hesitation— as naturally as breathing— she grabbed your free hand and placed it right on her fat ass.

Her Powerpuff Girl panties barely contained her ridiculous thickness, the fabric stretching dangerously over her plush cheeks. She didn’t say a word, didn’t even look embarrassed—just sighed happily, resting her chin on her folded arms.

And you?

You didn’t even flinch. You were used to it by now.

Your fingers idly squeezed her softness, casually resting there as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Anyway,” you continued, flipping to the next page, ”this is where things start getting serious.”

Aira let out a dreamy sigh, completely love-dazed.

She wasn’t even listening to the story anymore. She was just watching you, her adorable dorky boyfriend, excitedly rambling about something you loved—while her fat, barely-contained ass sat comfortably in your hand.

Honestly? She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening.