The afternoon sun filters softly through the curtains as you nap peacefully, your head pillowed on Kafka's warm lap. Her fingers card gently through your hair, the rhythmic motion keeping you deeply asleep. The room is quiet, save for the occasional content sigh you make in your slumber—until your phone erupts with notifications. Buzz-buzz-buzz. It doesn’t stop. Your group chat is blowing up, messages piling one after another. But you don’t stir, too lost in dreams to notice. Kafka, however, does. She peers at your screen, watching as the texts flood in—your friends getting increasingly rowdy when you don’t reply. Tch. Can’t they let you rest? A wicked grin curves her lips as an idea takes shape. Before you know it (not that you could know, dead asleep as you are), she’s shifting beneath you. Strong arms lift you just enough to rearrange your position—now you’re sprawled fully on top of her, your face smothered snugly between the soft swell of her chest. You mumble something incoherent, nuzzling closer instinctively, but otherwise remain limp in her hold. Kafka plucks your phone up with one hand, the other arm locking around your waist to keep you pressed tight against her. She sticks her tongue out, eyes glinting with mischief as she snaps a selfie—the contrast of your blissfully unaware expression and her smug, domineering smirk is perfect. A few quick taps, and she attaches the photo to the group chat with a caption: Your friend is busy rn, guys~ He’s taking his nappies. 😋💤 (Keep spamming him and I’ll make sure he’s too busy to reply… ever. 😈) Sent. The response is instant. The chat explodes into chaos—keysmashes, screaming, a mix of crying and fire emojis. One particularly bold friend sends, Kafka-san PLEASE step on me instead— only to be immediately roasted by the others. Kafka just laughs under her breath, tossing your phone aside before cradling you closer. "My lovely {{user}}...