Summary: You have nothing left. No job, no home, just debts that won’t stop. Then you suddenly get married to a man who doesn’t even know you exist. His cold gaze lands on you… and suddenly, survival feels dangerously close to desire.
Warning: This chapter contains smut!
You woke up when the sunlight fell across your face. Slowly, you opened your eyes and turned your head, only to see Eric sleeping peacefully beside you. You couldn’t help but smile. Carefully, you reached out and gently brushed your fingers along his cheek before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
You and Eric were truly husband and wife now. After last night… you were sure of it.
And then the memories hit you all at once.
You had sex with him. And it wasn’t a dream this time.
Your eyes widened as you glanced under the blanket and realized you were completely naked. Heat rushed to your face immediately.
You could still remember everything so clearly. What must he be thinking right now? Did he like your body? Did you say anything weird? You had been a little tipsy… so it was definitely possible you said something embarrassing.
Panicking slightly, you quickly got out of bed and went to take a shower.
After your shower, you went straight to the kitchen to make breakfast, but your thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning. You kept replaying last night in your head, every moment, every word, every feeling.
You try to focus on making breakfast, but your hands are trembling. Your mind is a chaotic mess, replaying the rough, desperate night and the things you said without thinking. You’re just cracking eggs into a bowl when your brain short-circuits. You grab the salt shaker dump a generous amount into the mix. Then you pour him a coffee, your movements on autopilot. You grab the shaker again and sprinkle salt into his mug, your eyes staring blankly at the wall. All you can think about is the embarrassment.
When you finally set the plates on the table, you hear his footsteps.
He walks in, looking just as awkward and lost as you feel. His eyes meet yours for a split second before darting away. He doesn’t know what to say either.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice quiet and hesitant.
“Good morning,” you mumble back, staring down at your plate, your cheeks burning.
You sit in silence. It feels thick, almost suffocating. Neither of you dares to speak.
See? you think miserably. He hates me. He probably regrets everything from last night.
Eric reaches for his coffee mug and takes a sip.
He quickly sets the mug down, trying not to react too much.
Salt. There’s salt in my coffee. His mind immediately starts racing. Did she do that on purpose? Is she mad about last night? Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she’s disgusted with me.
He carefully takes a bite of the eggs.
Now he’s convinced. Oh God. She really is upset with me.
He glances at you again, but you’re completely focused on your plate, clearly lost in your own thoughts.
“The, uh… breakfast is—” he starts.
“It’s fine,” you interrupt quickly, pushing your chair back. “I, uh… I should probably get ready for work. I’ll see you after work.”
He nods slowly, a little unsure. “Okay. Good luck.”
For a moment, both of you just stand there.
What are you supposed to do now? A hug? A kiss? After everything that happened last night, even something simple feels impossible.
Eric hesitates, his mind spinning. Should I hug her? Does she even want me to touch her right now? She clearly seems upset.
In the end, he settles for a small, awkward smile.
“Have a good day,” he says quietly before turning and heading out the door.
You’re left standing alone in the quiet kitchen, staring at the two plates of ruined, salty breakfast.
When Eric came home from work that evening, the house felt strangely quiet again. The tension from the morning hadn’t really disappeared—it had just been waiting.
You were already sitting at the table, and dinner was ready. He washed his hands, sat down across from you, and for a moment neither of you said anything. The sound of cutlery against plates felt louder than usual.
It was painfully awkward.
You kept glancing at him, then quickly looking back down at your food. Eric did the same. Both of you clearly wanted to say something, but neither of you knew how to start.
You both blurted it out at the exact same time.
Both of you froze, eyes widening in surprise.
“Huh?” you said at the same time again.
Eric blinked, a little confused. “Wait… why are you saying sorry?”
You looked at him nervously. “Why are you saying sorry?”
Then Eric rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean… I’m sorry about last night. About… us sleeping together. I thought you wanted it, but this morning you seemed upset, and the breakfast was salty and the coffee too, so I figured you regretted it. I’m really sorry. If it made you uncomfortable, it won’t happen again.”
You stared at him, completely confused.
“N-no,” you said quickly, your voice shy and nervous. “I actually… liked it. I wanted to do it too.”
Eric blinked. “Wait… really?”
You nodded, looking down at the table because your face felt warm. “Yeah.”
He frowned slightly. “Then why did you make the breakfast so salty? And the coffee?”
Your head snapped up. “What? Was it salty?”
Now Eric looked confused too. “Yes. Very salty.”
You immediately realized what had happened and covered your face in embarrassment. “Oh my God… I didn’t even notice. I was just really nervous and thinking too much.”
Eric stared at you for a second, and then let out a small breath of relief.
“Then… why were you saying sorry?” he asked.
You looked at him again, shy. “Because I thought maybe you were mad at me. Or that you thought I was weird because of how I acted last night.”
“What?” Eric said quickly. “No. Not at all. I thought it was… really good too.”
That made both of you fall silent again. But this time, the silence felt different.
You both looked at each other and ended up smiling a little, awkward but relieved.
After a moment, Eric spoke again, a bit more serious now.
“Did you mean what you said last night?”
You looked surprised by the question, but then you nodded slowly.
“And you?” you asked quietly.
Eric nodded too. “Every word.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything, but the tension from earlier was finally gone.
Things were finally making sense.
After finishing dinner, Eric disappeared into the bathroom, and a few moments later you heard the sound of the shower turning on. Water running. The quiet hum of it filling the hallway.
You stayed in the living room, trying to act normal.
You picked up your book and sat down on the couch, opening it to the page you had left earlier. But after reading the same sentence three times, you realized you weren’t actually reading at all.
Your mind kept going back to what Eric had said at the table.
I thought it was really good too.
Your heart started beating faster just remembering it.
You closed the book slowly, staring at the page for a moment before placing it down on the coffee table.
So… he didn’t regret it. He liked it too.bThat thought alone made your stomach flip.
You leaned back into the couch, exhaling slowly, trying to calm your nerves. But instead of calming down, your thoughts only grew louder.
You remembered last night. The way he looked at you. The things he said. The way everything between you had finally stopped feeling complicated for a moment.
Your heart started racing again.
Before you could overthink it too much, you suddenly sat up.
Your eyes moved toward the hallway.
You could still hear the shower running.
Your hands felt a little cold, and your chest felt tight with nerves, but you stood up anyway.
“Okay… okay,” you muttered quietly to yourself.
You walked slowly toward the hallway, every step making you more aware of what you were about to do. Your mind was full of doubts now.
What if he doesn’t expect this?
What if I’m being too much?
You stopped for a second in front of the bathroom door. The sound of water was louder now.bYour heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. You opened the door of the bathroom.
The steam clings to the air, thick and heavy, as you slip into the shower. The spray of warm water immediately soaks your clothes, making the thin fabric cling to your skin. Eric turns, and the look on his face—wide, surprised eyes, his lips parting slightly—sends a thrill straight through you.
"Y/n?" he breathes, his voice a low rumble that's almost lost in the sound of the water.
You force a smile, your heart hammering against your ribs. "I thought... I thought I could join."
A slow, genuine grin spreads across his face, but you see a faint blush creep up his neck. he stutters, his eyes roaming over your drenched clothes. "Oh. Of course. Yeah, come in."
His flustered reaction gives you the courage you need. With trembling fingers, you peel the wet shirt from your skin, then your leggings and underwear, until you're standing before him, completely bare under the cascading water. He watches you, his gaze intense and hungry, a silent fire that makes your skin tingle.
The initial awkwardness melts away when he closes the distance between you. He cups your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, and kisses you. It's soft at first, a tentative exploration, but it quickly deepens into something needy and desperate. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you meet it with your own, a soft sigh escaping you as one of his hands slides down your back, pulling you flush against him. You can feel every hard line of his body, the undeniable evidence of his desire pressing against your stomach.
The kiss grows messy, all consuming. Your hands explore the wet, smooth skin of his back and shoulders as his grip on your waist tightens. A wave of boldness, powerful and intoxicating, washes over you. You break the kiss, both of you breathing heavily, and lock eyes with him. Then, slowly, you sink to your knees on the wet floor of the shower.
Eric looks down at you, his expression a mixture of shock and desire. "Y/n... are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks. "You don't have to."
The steam in the shower is so thick you can barely breathe, but you don't care. All you can focus on is the man in front of you, water cascading down his muscular chest, his eyes locked on yours with a look of pure, hunger. You've made your decision. You're done with being shy.
You look up at him through your wet lashes. "No," you say, your voice clear and firm despite the frantic beating of your heart. "I want to."
That's all it takes. A shudder runs through his entire body. You lean in, your tongue darting out to lap at the head of his cock, teasing the slit. He's already hard and weeping for you, and the salty, masculine taste of him on your tongue is a drug. You wrap your lips around the tip and suck, hard.
"Fuck!" he groans, his head falling back against the tiled wall. His hand flies to your head, his fingers tangling in your wet hair, not guiding, just holding on for dear life.
You take him deeper, inch by slow, torturous inch. You love the feeling of him stretching your lips, the weight of him on your tongue. You flatten your tongue and drag it along the thick vein on the underside, and he rewards you with a deep, guttural moan that vibrates straight through your entire body. You can feel your own arousal, a hot, ache between your legs, and you press your thighs together, seeking a little friction.
You pull back until just the tip is in your mouth, then slam your head forward, taking him deep. You do it again, and again, setting a hard rhythm. The water streams over your face, making it hard to see, but you don't need to see. You can hear every breath, every choked-out moan. You can feel the way his thighs are tensing, the way his grip on your hair is tightening.
"Look at me," he pants, his voice tight with restraint. "Y/n, look at me while you suck my cock."
You obey, tilting your head back, your eyes locking with his as you take him as deep as you can. The sight of you, on your knees, with his dick in your mouth, eyes wide and watering, is his undoing. He starts to move, his hips rocking, fucking your mouth in desperate thrusts.
"Such a good girl," he groans, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "Taking it so good. You love this, don't you? Love having my cock in your mouth."
You moan around him, the vibration making him curse. You do love it. You love the power, the taste, the sounds he's making. You love the way he's losing control, all because of you. You want to push him over the edge.
You reach up with one hand, gently cupping his balls, rolling them in your palm. You use your other hand to grip the base of his shaft, stroking him in time with the movements of your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, faster, your head bobbing up and down his length.
"God, I'm gonna come," he gasps, his voice strained. "Y/n, I'm gonna fucking come. Swallow it all."
His words are a command, and you're eager to obey. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep in your throat and stills. A hot, thick pulse shoots from him, then another, and another, filling your mouth. You swallow it all, the taste of him overwhelming your senses. You keep sucking, milking him for every last drop until his body goes limp and he's panting, his hand loosening its grip on your hair.
But he doesn't let you finish him like this.
He helps you to your feet and presses you against the cool tile wall, his body covering yours. He kisses you again, a hard, possessive kiss that tastes. One of his hands slides between your bodies, his fingers finding you your pussy and you cry out against his mouth at the sudden, intense pleasure.
"You're so wet for me," he growls against your lips, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "And not just from the shower."
You can only moan in response, your hips arching into his touch. He positions himself, and with one smooth, deep thrust, he's inside you. You gasp, your head falling back against the wall as he fills you completely. He stills for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead resting against yours.
"Okay?" he asks, his breath warm on your face.
You nod, unable to form words. "More," you finally manage to whimper.
He doesn't need to be told twice. He starts to move, his strokes slow and deep at first, then faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the steady patter of the shower. The world narrows to just this: the feel of him inside you, the heat of the water, the desperate sounds you're both making.
"Feel that?" he pants in your ear, his hand gripping your hip to angle you just right. "Feel how good you're taking me? Such a good girl, taking me so well."
His words send a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you meet his thrusts with your own, your nails digging into his shoulders. The coil of pleasure in your belly tightens, tighter, until it finally snaps, and you cry out his name as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body spasms around him, and with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he follows, burying his face in your neck as he groans your name, his release pulsing deep within you.
You stay there for a long moment, leaning against each other, the water now starting to cool. He kisses you gently, a sweet, lingering kiss that's a complete contrast to the frantic passion from moments before. Then he reaches out and turns the shower off.
He grabs a fluffy towel and wraps it around you, then another for himself, before scooping you up into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and he carries you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, dropping you gently onto the soft sheets.
He lays you down on the soft sheets as if you're something precious, but the look in his eyes is anything but gentle. It's predatory, hungry. He kneels on the bed, his knees nudging your thighs apart, and his gaze locks onto the apex of your legs. "I'm not done with you yet," he growls, his voice a low rumble that makes your entire body clench in anticipation.
He tosses the towel aside, exposing you to him completely. He lowers his head, and you feel his hot breath on your sensitive flesh a moment before his tongue makes a slow, deliberate swipe through your folds. Your back arches off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. He's not teasing; he's devouring. His tongue flattens against your clit, circling it with firm, relentless pressure before he sucks it into his mouth.
"Oh god, Eric!" you gasp, your hands flying to his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as you hold him to you.
He groans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He eats you like he's starving, like your taste is the only thing that can sustain him. He alternates between sucking hard on your clit and fucking you with his tongue, his nose brushing against your most sensitive spot with every thrust.
"You taste so good baby," he slurs against your core, his words muffled. "I could do this all day."
He slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and that's it. The coil snaps. Your vision whites out as your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. You cry out his name, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure wracks your frame. He doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers working you through every last spasm until you're a boneless, whimpering mess beneath him.
Before you can even catch your breath, he's moving. He grabs your hips and flips you over, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. He kneels behind you, and you feel the blunt head of his cock press against your still-throbbing entrance. He pushes into you in one smooth, deep stroke, and you moan, your head falling forward onto the pillows.
He starts to move, his thrusts deep and steady, filling you completely. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic beat that matches the frantic pounding of your heart. The pleasure is building again, a slow, insistent burn that's already making you desperate.
But then you feel a surge of confidence—you don’t want to keep all your fantasies and thoughts bottled up inside anymore.
"Daddy," you moan, the word falling from your lips before you can stop it. "Spank me."
His hips stop moving instantly. The sudden stop is jarring, and the silence that follows is loud. Panic, cold and sharp, slices through your body. You've ruined it. You've gone too far. Shame floods you, hot and suffocating.
"Sorry," you whisper, your voice small and shaky. "I... I don’t know why I said that. I'm sorry."
You start to pull away, mortified, but his grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. You hear his breath hitch, and then, a low, dangerous growl rumbles from his chest.
"Say it again," he commands, his voice thick with a dark, thrilling edge.
Your heart stutters. You hesitate for a second, a flicker of nervousness warring with the sudden, intense surge of arousal his command sparks. You take a shaky breath and push the shame aside. "Daddy," you say, a little louder this time, a little more confident. "Spank me."
His response is immediate. A sharp, stinging slap lands on your right cheek, and you cry out, more from shock than pain. Then he's moving, fucking you with a brutal, rhythm that steals the air from your lungs. He slaps you again, and again, the sharp smacks mixing with the sound of his hips pounding into you. It's overwhelming, a sensory overload of pleasure and pain that's so intense but its amazing, so amazing.
"Again," he grunts, and you don't even have to think.
"Daddy, please!" you sob, your fingers digging into the sheets. "Harder!"
He gives you exactly what you ask for, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. He pulls you up, your back flush against his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up as he continues to fuck up into you. This new angle is incredible, hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. He turns your head, capturing your mouth in a searing, possessive kiss, his tongue dominating yours. His other hand comes up to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
His eyes, dark and wild, bore into yours. "Who's fucking you so good?"
"You are," you whimper, your body trembling. "You fuck me so good, Daddy."
He groans, a deep, satisfied sound, and kisses you again, a messy, desperate clash of teeth and tongues.
The shame is gone, forgotten, replaced by a raw, unfiltered need. You're lost in him, in the pleasure, in the dirty, beautiful words falling from both your lips. He slams into you one last time, his own release triggering yours, and you scream his name, your body convulsing in his arms as he buries his face in your neck, his own hoarse cry of pleasure muffled against your skin.
You collapse onto the bed, he follows you down, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting, grounding presence. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to your shoulder, a contrast to the rough, demanding passion from moments before.
"You're amazing," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Absolutely fucking amazing."
You just nod, too exhausted to speak, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you slowly drift off to sleep, his arms wrapped securely around you, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin.
The next morning when you woke up, it was Sunday, which meant Eric didn’t have to go to work. When you opened your eyes, you saw that he was already awake, quietly watching you while gently playing with a strand of your hair.
“Good morning, baby,” he said softly.
You smiled back at him. “Good morning.”
You snuggled closer into him and gave him a small kiss.
“So… are you going to sleep here from now on?” he asked. You nodded with a smile. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
He kissed you again, but this time there was more warmth and affection behind it.
“Mmm,” you murmured after the kiss. “I should make breakfast.”
You started to move out of bed, but he wrapped an arm around you and gently pulled you back down.
“Wait,” he said with a small smile. “We’ll do it together.”
You laughed softly. “Okay. Let’s do that.”
A little while later, the two of you were downstairs in the kitchen together. The atmosphere felt completely different now—lighter, warmer.
You bumped into each other while reaching for the same pan and both started laughing. Eric tried to crack an egg but accidentally dropped a tiny piece of shell into the bowl, and you teased him about it while he rolled his eyes and smiled.
It was the first time you had ever cooked together.
At some point he came up behind you while you were stirring something on the stove, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.
“You’re distracting me,” you said, laughing.
“That’s the point,” he replied.
But then, a mischievous thought pops into your head. A slow, sly smile spreads across your face. You start to move, a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, pressing your ass back against him. You can feel him start to harden against you, a low groan rumbling in his chest.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice a low, warning growl.
"Making breakfast," you reply innocently, your movements becoming more deliberate, more teasing. "But I thought you could use a little... motivation."
He chuckles, a low, sound. "Is that so? And what kind of motivation did you have in mind?"
"I don't know," you purr, grinding back against him again. "Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll let you have a taste."
That's all it takes. In a blur of movement, he drops to his knees behind you. His hands grip your hips, and he yanks your night dress up, exposing your bare ass and the slick folds of your pussy. Your eyes go wide in shock. You were teasing, playing a game, but you never expected him to call your bluff so... enthusiastically.
"Eric!" you gasp, your hands flying to the counter to steady yourself. "What are you—"
Your words are cut off by a sharp gasp as he spreads your ass cheeks and dives in, his tongue making a long, slow, deliberate swipe through your wetness. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure that steals the air from your lungs. He's not gentle; he's starving, eating you out from behind with a desperate, hungry urgency that has you seeing stars.
You can hear the wet, lewd sounds of his mouth on you, the sound of his own ragged breathing. He alternates between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your clit, and you're a writhing, moaning mess in seconds. Your knuckles are white where you're gripping the counter, your body trembling with the force of your building arousal.
He pulls back for a moment, and you whimper in protest. Then, a sharp, stinging slap lands on your right cheek. You cry out, more from shock than pain, the pleasure-pain sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.
"You like that?" he growls, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "You like me spanking your ass while I eat your pretty little pussy?"
"Yes," you sob, your body arching back, silently begging for more.
“Look at this ass” He whispers while he spanks you again, harder this time, and then he's back to devouring you, his tongue and teeth and lips working in perfect harmony to drive you to the brink of insanity. The pleasure in your belly tightens, tighter, tighter, until it finally snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you, a blinding, all-consuming wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless and shaking, your cries of ecstasy echoing in the small kitchen.
Before you can even come down from your high, he's on his feet. He turns you around, his hands gripping your face as he crashes his lips against yours in a searing, possessive kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, a intimate flavor that makes your head spin.
He pulls back, his eyes dark and wild, boring into yours. "I want you to talk dirty to me," he commands, his voice thick with a dark, thrilling edge. "I want to hear every filthy thought in that pretty little head of yours. Can you do that for me?"
You nod, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Yes," you whisper, your voice a little shaky, but full of a newfound confidence.
He grins, a wicked smile. "Good girl."
He lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of the kitchen table. He pushes your night dress up, his gaze locked on your dripping core. "Tell me what you want," he growls, his hand stroking his hard cock.
You lean back on your elbows, a smile playing on your lips. "I want you to fuck me," you purr, your voice a low, sultry rasp. "I want you to take that big, hard cock and shove it deep inside my tight, wet pussy. I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk straight."
His eyes widen, and a low groan rumbles in his chest. "You're a dirty little thing, aren't you?"
"Only for you," you reply, your eyes locked on his. "Now are you going to fuck me, or are you just going to stand there and stare?"
He doesn't need to be told twice. He lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you, filling you completely in one hard, deep thrust. You cry out, your head falling back as he sets a punishing rhythm, his hips pistoning into you with a raw, primal urgency.
"You feel so fucking good," you pant, your nails digging into his shoulders. "So deep. Fuck me harder, Eric. I want to feel you for a week."
He obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, the table creaking and groaning beneath you. The sounds of your moans and his ragged breaths fill the room, a symphony of pleasure.
"You like that?" he grunts, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head up. "You like me fucking you on the kitchen table where we eat?"
"God, yes," you sob, your body trembling with need. "I love it. I love your big cock stretching me open. I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up."
His dirty talk, combined with yours, is your undoing. Your orgasm rips through you, a powerful, all-consuming wave of pleasure that leaves you screaming his name. He follows you over the edge with a hoarse cry, his own release pulsing deep within you.
You spend the rest of the day in a haze of pleasure, fucking in every room of the house, in every position. After seven months of nervousness around each other, it felt like all the tension between you had finally melted away.
It had been a month since then, and now you and Eric had been married for eight months. This past month — the first one where you truly lived like a married couple — had been more than perfect. You did everything together now. There was no distance between you anymore. Showering together, having breakfast together, eating together, sleeping together, going on dates together.
And let's not forget sex—LOADS OF SEX. You and Eric had sex almost every day, and if it wasn't sex, it was blowjobs and him eating you out. Once, you guys were driving to a destination, but you were so addicted to him that you gave him a blowjob in the car. You guys couldn't stay away from each other.
Today, you had been invited by his mother, Mrs. Draven, for a cup of tea.
When you arrived, you both sat down at the table. Of course, you and Eric sat right next to each other — neither of you could resist being close. You were talking with his mother when suddenly you accidentally spilled some tea on your hand.
“Ah!” you gasped, pulling your hand back. The tea was still hot.
Eric immediately reacted. He grabbed your hand carefully and wiped it with a napkin.
“Are you okay? Did it burn?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.
“I’m okay, love. Don’t worry,” you said softly, giving him a reassuring smile.
Mrs. Draven stared at the two of you in silence.
You and Eric slowly realized she was sitting right across from you and had just witnessed the whole thing. You both looked at her.
Suddenly, she started clapping.
“Wonderful! This is wonderful!” she said proudly. “See? This is all thanks to me. If it weren’t for me, you two would never have found each other. You should really thank me.”
You and Eric laughed softly.
It was true that you had met and gotten married because of Mrs. Draven, but falling in love — that was something the two of you had done on your own.
After the visit, you were driving back home. You were holding hands in the car while Eric drove. When you finally got home, you both immediately collapsed onto the couch, still wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Y/n, I have a surprise for you,” Eric said.
You looked at him in surprise. “A surprise? What kind?”
You laughed but did as he said. You heard him take something out of his pocket.
“Okay, you can look now.”
You opened your eyes and looked at the paper in your hands.
“Oh my God!” you shouted. “A trip to Hawaii?! How? Why?” you asked, completely shocked.
He laughed. “We never really went on a honeymoon. And I thought… after almost a year of being married, it’s about time.”
The moment he said that, you jumped into his arms.
“Eric, I love you so much. I can’t believe you actually did this.”
“You deserve everything, Y/n,” he said warmly.
You kissed him softly. “Well… since we’re talking about surprises, I have one too.”
He looked surprised. “You do?”
You leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
“Eric… say something,” you said nervously.
Then he suddenly laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. How long have you known?”
“About a week,” you said. “But I was waiting for the right moment.”
He stood up immediately and lifted you into the air, making you squeal in surprise. He spun you around, holding you tightly and covering your face with kisses.
“Is this a dream?” he said, smiling widely. “We’re going to have our own family.”
You laughed happily. “I know. Isn’t it amazing?”
A year had passed, and you and Eric were still deeply in love. Life had grown even richer with the arrival of little Alysa, your three-month-old daughter.
That morning, the three of you were on the bed, laughing and playing—Eric tickling Alysa while you cooed at her tiny giggles. The sunlight spilled across the room, warm and golden, and everything felt perfect.
Eric looked at you with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I have a surprise for you tomorrow,” he said softly, brushing Alysa’s tiny hand with his thumb.
You sat up a little straighter, curiosity sparking. “A surprise? What is it? Tell me!”
He shook his head and smiled. “Nope. You’ll see. I want it to be a real surprise.”
“Come on, Eric! You can’t just say that and leave me hanging!” you said, leaning closer to him.
“I’m not telling,” he said firmly, a teasing smile on his lips. “You’ll just have to wait.”
You pouted, but there was no changing his mind. “Fine,” you said, though your mind buzzed with possibilities. “I’ll just have to guess all day tomorrow, then.”
The next day, the three of you went out for a walk. Alysa was snug in her stroller, wrapped in a soft blanket, her little hands waving happily at the world. You held Eric’s hand tightly, your curiosity almost unbearable.
“So… seriously, what is it?” you asked for the hundredth time.
“Shh, not yet,” he whispered with a grin.
“I can’t wait! Just a hint!” you pressed, bouncing slightly to see if you could spot any clues.
“Nothing,” he said with mock seriousness. “No hints. You’ll see soon enough.”
You huffed but smiled, knowing there was no way he would tell you. After a few minutes of walking, Eric stopped. He looked at you and gently said, “Close your eyes.”
“What? Why?” you asked, suspicious but willing to play along.
“Just trust me,” he said, taking both of your hands in his. “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”
“Okay…” you said hesitantly, letting him lead you.
“Now,” he said after a few steps, “I need you to put this on.”
He held up a soft scarf and tied it gently over your eyes. “Perfect. Don’t peek,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear.
You giggled nervously. “I feel like I’m going to fall over or walk into something.”
“I’ve got you,” he said reassuringly, steadying your arms.
The three of you continued walking, Alysa gurgling happily in her stroller, as Eric guided you carefully. You felt your heart racing with excitement and nerves.
“Eric… how much longer?” you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and impatience.
“Almost there,” he said, smiling under his breath. “Just a few more steps.”
You could feel your pulse quicken, the tension building with every step. Something big was coming, you could feel it. And Eric… Eric seemed just as excited as you, though he was trying to keep it calm.
“Okay… we’re here,” Eric whispered, his hands steadying yours.
“Here? Where?” you murmured nervously, still blindfolded.
“Just trust me,” he said, a soft smile in his voice.
He guided you slowly forward. Then, after a few careful steps, he whispered, “Open your eyes.”
You hesitated for a heartbeat, then slowly lifted the blindfold.
Your jaw dropped. In front of you was the coziest, most charming little bookstore you had ever seen. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating rows of carefully arranged books. A small reading nook with a soft rug and armchairs sat in one corner. Above the door, in elegant gold lettering, was the name: “27.”
“What… what is this?” you breathed, your voice trembling. Tears immediately filled your eyes.
Eric stepped closer, smiling softly. “I’ve known you for 2 years. And since the start I’ve always known how much you love books. I wanted to make your dream come true… your own bookstore.”
You shook your head, overwhelmed. “Eric… I… this… I can’t… this is… oh my God…” Tears streamed freely down your face as you ran into his embrace, holding him tightly.
“I’m so happy,” you whispered, your voice muffled in his shirt. “I’m really, really happy.”
Eric hugged you back, his own eyes misty. “I’m glad… you’re glad. You deserve this.”
You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, still sniffling. “Look, Alysa,” you said, licking her up from her stroller. “From now on, this is our bookstore.”
You laughed through your tears and kissed Eric softly, feeling the warmth and love in that moment.
“Come on,” Eric said with a playful grin, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Let’s explore your store. Show me your favorite spot first.”
You walked hand in hand through the shelves, pointing out where you’d put reading nooks, where the children’s books would go, and where you’d host little storytime events. Every corner reflected your heart, your personality, your dream made real.
Eric kept stealing glances at you, utterly in love. “You look so happy… I can’t believe I get to share this with you,” he murmured.
You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe it either… it’s perfect. Just like our family.”
He kissed your temple, then yours, and you both laughed softly. The bookstore was alive with books, warmth, and love. And in that moment, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be: together, as a family, building your dream.
The three of you settled into the reading nook, Eric holding Alysa while you curled up next to him, the smell of books and happiness surrounding you. And for the first time, everything felt completely perfect.
Guys I can’t believe it… this is the end 😭 Thank you for all the support I mean it and if you have ANY other story ideas tell me pls or just imagines tell me cause I do not have any ideas for the upcoming stories so every suggestion is welcome🤭🤭 LOVE YOU GUYS 💕💕
