It was a late, quiet night.

You lay on your bed, eyes fixed on the glowing screen, watching Oggy and the Cockroaches – Formula 1. Laughter echoed through the room as Oggy’s antics unfolded, but your attention locked onto her— The Trophy Girl.

Graceful. Stunning. Draped in hot pink with that proud podium presence.

Somewhere between the roaring engines and the trophy ceremony, your eyes slowly shut. The show played on. And you drifted into sleep.

☀️ Next Morning

You stirred beneath the blanket, half-asleep, one arm stretching lazily over the sheets— Then your hand brushed against something.

Soft. Heavy. Warm.

Confused, your hand lingered for a moment before it hit you. Your eyes snapped open. You sat up— and threw off the blanket.

There she was. The Trophy Girl, from last night’s episode.

Lying next to you. Sleeping, calm and peaceful, with her arm curled under her head and her long golden hair flowing over the pillow. Her chest gently rising and falling—just as soft as you’d felt a moment ago.

She slowly blinked awake. A drowsy smile crept onto her lips.

“Morning, handsome~” 😍😍😍 she murmured, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She slowly takes your hand and puts it on her boobies.