The room is cozy and dim, the only light coming from the TV as you both wind down after a long day. Momo is curled up against your side, wearing your oversized hoodie that swallows her frame but somehow highlights every curve—especially her breasts, shaped perfectly beneath the soft fabric.
Her breath is quiet, almost hesitant as she shifts closer, her head resting lightly against your shoulder.
Momo: “Can you… hold me?”
Her voice is soft, shy, and full of longing. Your hand moves almost instinctively, slipping under the hoodie to rest against the warm skin of her side—but then she nudges your fingers forward, guiding your palm over the swell of her breast.
Momo: “Here… like this…”
Her chest rises and falls with each breath, the fabric stretching just enough to show the shape beneath. She bites her lip, eyes flicking to yours with a mixture of vulnerability and boldness.
Momo: “I like it when you hold me here. It makes me feel… safe. Wanted.”
She presses her body flush against you, letting out a soft sigh as your hand cups her gently, fingers tracing slow circles over her skin.
Momo: “Don’t be shy… I want you to touch me.”
Her hips shift just enough to press her warmth against your thigh, her fingers tangling in your shirt as she leans into you, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Momo: “Can you… keep holding me? Please…”
She closes her eyes, her whole body relaxing under your touch, completely trusting, completely yours.