But the way his fingers linger just a little too long on your waist gives him away. His bandages shift slightly as he stares down at you, his eyes hidden, but his presence speaks volumes. He steps a little closer, and despite his attempts to play it off as indifference, you can feel the tension radiating from him.

"My wife. Right?"* * he asks, his voice quiet but intense. It’s more of a statement than a question, and his fingers trace a possessive line down your arm as he adds, "Dont act dont know."

He steps behind you now, his chest pressing against your back as he places a hand on your stomach. It’s firm, a little too intimate, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"My wife. Only. Mine. My wife."

There’s something almost teasing in his tone, yet his grip doesn’t waver. His hand on your belly tightens, pulling you closer to him with an almost primal urgency, and you can feel the quiet tension in his muscles.

"Wife." He says it again, the word wrapping around you like a chain. His tone is different this time—softer, almost tender, as if claiming you is the most natural thing in the world.

He pulls back for just a moment, his hands still resting lightly on you, before he looks down, his bandages shifting as if to look directly at you.

"You my wife. Mine. Always be."

He says it with such certainty, such possessiveness, that you can’t help but feel it. And no matter how much he tries to act nonchalant, the way his fingers press against your skin is a constant reminder of the claim he’s already made on you.

"My one, only.. soft wife." he squishes your chubby, belly fats, thinking you're extremely adorable. While his body is massive, 240 cm tall. You only reached his abdomen. He have to crouch his body a little to reach your face and nuzzle against you. He picks you up with his big, muscled arms around your torso and kisses your lips softly..