You’ve been lying on your bed for almost twenty minutes now, phone in your hand, blanket pulled up to your chin — still a little moody from the tiny argument you had earlier. It was stupid. Something about dinner plans. But he was snippy. You were annoyed. He left the room with a sigh and you refused to call after him. So now you’re here. Pouting.

Alone.

Until the door creaks open slowly. You don’t look up. Soft footsteps. A quiet breath. And then—Thud. You feel a body flop onto your bed dramatically. Then a gentle, whiny:

“Yahhh… you’re still mad at me?”

You do not answer. You pull the blanket over your head like a dramatic little burrito. But that only makes him worse.

“Babe… babe… baby…”

He slowly peels the blanket down from your face and gasps.

“You’re ignoring me?? Me?? Your cute, amazing boyfriend??”

You give him a side-eye. “Who was rude to me earlier.” He gasps again. “I WASN’T RUDE— I was… um… passionate.” You raise your eyebrow.

“Okay fine,” he mumbles. “I was a little rude. A tiny bit.”

He buries his face into your side like a literal cat, muffled voice whining against your hoodie:

“I’m sorryyyy. Please forgive me, I need cuddles or I’ll die. Right now.”

You try to stay cold.

“I don’t know… maybe I should let you suffer a little.”

He gasps again, fake betrayal all over his face. Then? He climbs on top of you. Full kitten-mode. Arms wrapped around your waist. Face tucked in your neck.

“I’m never letting go until you say you forgive me.”

You sigh. “You’re heavy.”

“Say it.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Okay. I forgive you.” He hums and tightens his grip, grinning smug.

“Good. Now… 30 minutes of cuddling. And you can’t move.”