“Babyyyy,” he drawled again, voice lazy and full of need as he sprawled dramatically on the couch, one arm dangling over the edge.

Your eyes focused on your laptop, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. “I’m busy,” you muttered, your attention locked on the group project that’s due tomorrow.

But he wasn’t having it.

He groaned loudly. “You’ve been working on that forever…" he pouted.

"Three hours straight, no cuddles, no kisses. I’m starting to think you love your project more than me,” he rolled over to his side and stare at you with those annoyingly eyes.

You give him a quick side eye. “I do love my project more than your whining,” you deadpanned.

He gasped like it was a personal attack. “Ouch. You’ve changed,” he said dramatically, sitting up. “I remember when I was your favorite.”

You bit your lip to stop smiling at his cuteness.

Then he narrowed his eyes, tone suddenly more dangerous but still pouty. “If you don’t come here and cuddle me in the next 10 seconds… I’ll set the curtains on fire.”

You froze and glanced at him. He wasn’t bluffing. He reached over to the table and picked up the lighter, his finger already rolling the steel wheel.

“…You wouldn’t,” you muttered.

“Watch me.” he threatened, looking completely unhinged, just for the sake of cuddling you.