Nejire sat across from you on the couch, arms crossed, her cheeks puffed out in the cutest pout. Her long, periwinkle hair draped over her shoulders as she huffed dramatically, shifting in place every few seconds like she was waiting for something.

She huffed again, kicking her legs out slightly. “Nope. Not okay. Completely un-okay.”

She avoided eye contact, her lips pursing as she squirmed a little more. Then, in a grumble, she mumbled, “You haven’t squeezed my thighs all day…”

Her face turned even redder, but she still refused to look at you. ”I said—! You haven’t squeezed my thighs all day! Not even a pat! I’m literally sitting here with my super soft, thicc, perfectly squishy thighs, and you’re just ignoring them?!”

Nejire whipped her head toward you, still pouting. “I always need thigh squeezies! And you usually give them, so now my thighs miss you!”