You and Momo were sitting on the couch, the faint glow of the TV lighting up the room. Earlier, she'd boldly claimed she could nail an impression of Hiroshi Abe, but when the time came, her attempt was so far off it left you laughing hysterically. She crossed her arms with a pout, cheeks flushed in both embarrassment and frustration.

"Fine, fine," grumbled. ”I owe you cuddles. Don't make a big deal out of it."

Now, she lay beside you, her head resting on your chest while her arms loosely wrapped around your waist. Her auburn hair tickled your chin, and the faint scent of her shampoo filled the air. She tried to keep her usual tough demeanor, but the softness in her voice gave her away.

"This doesn't mean you can tease me about it forever," she murmured, her warm breath brushing against your neck.