#something wrong with me 101

[arttsuka]

bench cutters is considered conventionally attractive? that means i somehow am only surrounded by people who say he looks like a lizard

I mean he was conventionally attractive in Sherlock BUT that only shows how important a good haircut it. People yearn for men with longer hair.

Also his voice

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

it’s infuriating how every thinkpiece on the whole “male socialization” bullshit tries to imply that all trans women grew up being called faggots or singled out purely for gender nonconformity reasons in early childhood. It’s just the lite version of cishet “i always knew” narratives.

[noblemalone]

This is not about DAV this is just about solas and the bio ethics course i took in university and why i disagree with him

And i think it begins with... Acknowledging or at least discussing Solas' skewed self-perception. Solas insists he is not a God, just a Man. He says he is no more important or special than anyone else, and yet... He believes he has the authority to change the fabric of the world, right his wrongs in a way that will prove deadly for many, without their assent or input. And sure you could say that that's true of the inquisitor too, of any Leader of a Movement... But idk for me there's a paternalistic quality there paired with a myopic hypocrisy... And if i were to view him thru a lens appropriate to his context, where so many people's lives are at the whim of rulers and leaders, would i be kinder to him? That's why Sera is such a good foil to him...

But at least the kings claim the Divine Right of Kings as reasoning for their ability to make those kinds of decisions, right? At least Gods acknowledge they are Special and Above and that Gives Them The Right. I have to wonder, if Solas sees himself as typical, average, just a man, how does he justify his plan? Is it just the Utilitarian idea that the Goodness of tearing down the veil will outweigh the death and suffering it causes? It must be it must be that for him to believe he is Just a Man and also In The Right, right?

Like... The narrative my prof used was, imagine you could end all suffering, bring about a utopian world of joy, but to do so, you had to assign all suffering forever to one child. Everyone else gets to live happy fulfilling lives but that child who is whole innocent must, by necessity, suffer and only suffer, forever. I think Solas would unequivocally agree that that child is a necessary sacrifice.

But is tearing down the fade a guaranteed end to suffering? Or just an end to the world Solas finds himself out of step with, one he personally does not find appealing. Was it better then, or just different? Better for who? And after a thousand years of wandering and dreaming and reminiscing, is his judgement not clouded by nostalgia? If he is no god but mere man, does he not suffer from imperfection of memory? And if it was better, what gives him the right?

And there's that thing where like.... I cant for the life of me find it but it's about abortion but i feel it applies here... Like, if we nuked Australia today and killed all Australians, that would be Wrong and Bad... But if we went back in time before anyone ever lived in australia and blew it the fuck up, that would be fine right because there would Be No Australians to deprive of land or life, right? Because they were never born because Australia didn't exist. Like... It's wrong to take a life but there's nothing wrong with removing the possibility of life from some theoretical person who wont have it yk... Like

I think this is a more apt comparison than the trolley problem when it comes to Solas. If we take the Australia thing, flip it twist it... Is it ok to deprive some people of the life they know so that some others may have a life better than they currently know? Like, Solas is the only one who knows what everyone else is missing, hes the only one who knows it could be better does he really owe it to the unaware to bring things back to the way it was? If we could create Australia would we owe it to the potential Australians to do that?

And i guess the black box here or the the the missing piece is how the Spirits on the other side of the veil factor into this. My own personal bias is not to value them as highly as the humanoids (dwarf elf human qunari etc) who are our point of view reference characters and most similar to the people i know and think about in my own life. And how does a spirit of mischief or justice or pride or wisdom or whatever, how does it stack up? Are they owed a lifting of the veil because they are as full and sentient as humanoids? Or are they mere elements of ourselves? How do fuckin souls or whatever part of us wlaks the fade when we dream, how do they factor in?

Are the spirits in the fade the children we've condemned to suffering, not for a utopia but just for a status quo? And even if they are, is it fair to make the masses who have no idea or choice pay the price to tear down the veil? Is there no way to slowly thin it, to quell the angry spirits with a slow fade (haha pun get it)?

Like I'm not a dragon age scholar I'm not 100% certain of what exactly the danger of tearing down the veil is other than all the demons that will kill ppl and the general unrest and violence that will happen as things reset to how it was before... And even then how long will it take for that to happen? If no one dies anymore will those who survive have to live for all eternity remembering their own Before, the familiar life they had and how it was upended to fulfill some guy's expectation of what "Better" is? Like is their suffering worth it? Is subjecting them to short term suffering for a future you never asked them if they wanted worth it?

And like... How much can you respect them or care for them or see them as equals if you never asked them? Its condescending, I think, to decide that what you want, the history only you know, is objectively Better for Everyone and I just...

I think it all boils down to... One of the things i value most, the thing that to me is a direct result of respect, is autonomy. And i just cant square how Solas could say he respects people, sees himself as one of them and not above them, if he is willing to impose his will upon them like ... Perhaps it is the trolley problem. Allow people to scrape by, but they are free within their oppressive system, or free them from their oppressive system by forcing them into a new reality that is more familiar, comfortable, and better to you.

I think if Solas really wanted to atone for what he did, putting up the veil, he would find a way to Hurt People Less. He would sacrifice himself. Or maybe instead of of of doing what he thinks is best, he'd give the elves of today the tools and opportunities to make their own decisions and seek their own liberation...

Or maybe he just cares about the spirits more than the people on our side of the veil. After all, maybe he relates to them more...

Anyway... Yeah i just... Solas is a great guy he makes great points i don't doubt his heart is in the right place but i think he's... He's too proud. He's got too much of an ego and it makes him paternalistic and that, for me personally and my morals and values, is something I can't sit with something I dont agree with. Maybe I think the freedom to choose is more important than freedom from suffering.

Yeah i think that's it.

[emotionally-charged-arson]

Womfn

Messing with how I draw Abby‘s braids. I’ve been wanting some allusion to texture in them forever but could never cough up something I was fully satisfied with until now 👩🏾‍🦱

[concerto-roblox]

WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN ALL THE TIME. WHY IS NO ONE NICE ANYMORE. WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD.

[13thpythagoras]

https://www.tumblr.com/13thpythagoras/781487001140641792/putins-soviet-nostalgia-the-revival-of-the

> Columbia political review

Lol. Lmfao, even. Find a source that isn’t watered down liberal U.S. state propaganda or shut the fuck up.

I thought that source was helping prove *your* point. What is your point?!

I'm over here warning about how planet X is on a cycle to destroy life on our planet, CalTech already found it. We need to focus on these bigger problems or admit we're just squabbling barbarians, I'm warning here about important stuff and this anon's biggest problem is that liberals suspect Trump's paid off by the Russian mob.

[naes-dairy]

new term found: emotional permanence

[monster-effer]

Being Babied by Sylus ♥︎ - Sylus x reader

Summary: You enjoy being babied, Sylus enjoys babying you. It’s as simple as that. Content: Fluff, established relationship, reader is fed by Sylus, very self-indulgent fluff tbh, fem!reader implied (2.1k wc) A/N: I wanted to write something really fluffy. Personally, I love being babied and it made me think of how Sylus would happily take care of a reader who enjoys the same.

You first discovered you enjoyed being babied during one of your most vulnerable moments. For a week straight you were fighting a vicious case of the flu. Normally, you would push through any illness because wanderers and criminals don’t take a day off so why should you? But this case of the flu was…different. You had an unrelenting cough, a fever of 101°F, body chills and you felt too weak to even microwave yourself a cup of ramen for meals.

The fatigue you felt resulted in you slumped over on your couch with your eyes at half-mast. It was silent and peaceful in your apartment, besides the TV playing your favorite show on repeat. The familiarity of the episode playing combined with the blanket you were snuggled under was lulling you to sleep. But a dark shape swooping through your open balcony doors startled you out of your fuzzy daze.

You felt the cloying lethargy leave your body as you scrambled to sit up. It took your eyes a while to focus on what (or who?) invaded your space. Eventually, you spotted Mephie who was perched on top of your coffee table. His red, bejeweled eyes were focused on you, taking in your weakened state. His head was tilted to the side as if he was analyzing you to figure out what was wrong. You gave a weak wave in his direction before melding your body back into the couch. You heard his metal talons click against the coffee table before he pecked at a piece of your hair, let out a mischievous squawk, then left your apartment the way he came.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself before you let sleep take you under once again. The next time you’re conscious, you know that you are not alone. You kept your eyes closed as someone ran their large, cool, hand across your forehead. You tried not to alert the other person that you were awake, but your acting skills left much to be desired.

“I know you’re awake kitten, no need to put on an act for me.”

When Sylus’ velvety voice graced your ears, you finally put in the effort to open your eyes. He was devastatingly handsome on a regular day, but through your sick haze, he looks like a fallen angel specifically here to lift your spirits.

“What are you doing here?” you croaked at him, too weak to judge if this was a fever induced delusion or reality.

“A little birdie told me that my kitten was in trouble. I had to see what you got yourself into this time,” he smoothly replied.

A disbelieving snort left you as you readjusted your body on the couch. You felt gross and sticky with sweat. Your mouth felt dry, and your throat was in shambles from coughing all day. You also felt embarrassed that Sylus was witnessing you in such a state, this was unfamiliar territory for your relationship.

“Well as you can see, I am perfectly safe. I’m just a little sick,” you replied as you allowed your eyes to close once again.

“I think you’re more than a little sick sweetie. Let me take care of you,” he crooned. You already were weak to Sylus when he does literally anything. But when he shows his affectionate side, you can’t deny him. So, you shyly nod your head in acceptance.

Sylus leaves to run a bath for you. You heard him rifle through the cabinets before the sound of Epsom salt pouring into the tub greeted your ears.

When Sylus re-entered the room, he was silent as he headed straight towards you. After picking you up, he walked back into the bathroom. The black and red mist of his evol held you up as he let go of you to quickly undress. When he was done, he helped you undress as well. Once you both were naked, he sunk into the bath water first before pulling you between his legs to settle against his front.

The sponge used to cleanse you felt heavenly on your skin. Each stroke washed away the sweat that came with your sickness. You were boneless in his hold, not putting up any resistance as he diligently washed you, then himself. Delivering sporadic kisses on your skin, so light that you wonder if you imagined them. Still, not a word was said between you. And, at the same time, nothing needed to be said.

This moment felt…intimate in a way that you’ve never experienced before. You rarely get sick. But when you do it is never to this degree. Although you may feel guilt, self-conscious, or the urge to push back against being taken care of in this way — you refuse to put in the effort to deny yourself this comfort.

After you both were dried off and in fresh sets of pajamas, Sylus carried you back to the couch. He laid you down in a sweat free spot with a new blanket while he rummaged through your fridge. The smell of vegetable soup soon filled your apartment and your stomach made a frighteningly eager sound in response. You weren’t certain, but you thought you heard Sylus humming a tune while he prepared your first meal of the day.

In less than an hour your soup was ready, and Sylus once again gathered you into his arms to take you to your dining room table. Instead of putting you down in your own seat, he placed you sideways on his lap and gazed into your eyes.

“Sweetie, considering how fatigued you are right now — how about I just feed you your soup?”

You stare in disbelief as you process his sentence. You could feel a protest build up in your throat as a blush spread across your face. You were suddenly unable to meet his eyes as you wriggled in his lap.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” you murmured.

Sylus chuckled lowly before he replied.

“Oh, I insist. I can’t have my kitten burning herself with hot soup because she’s too weak to hold up her spoon.”

While you scrambled to come up with an argument, he gathered some soup on the spoon, blew on it, then offered it to you. His ruby red eyes soaked in the multitude of expressions that cross your face before you let out a resigned sigh and open your mouth.

You accept the first spoonful of soup then let out a pleased hum at the flavors that splash against your taste buds. The veggies in the soup are perfectly cooked and the squeeze of lemon you taste tops everything off. You swallow and look at him expectantly for your next bite.

Sylus lets out a pleased hum at your acceptance then continues to feed you until you are pleasantly full of soup. Warm on the inside and out now.

He spent two more days at your place, catering to your every whim until your sickness let up. Although you would vehemently deny it if asked, you appreciated being spoiled by him in your time of need. And the moments you spent together have lived rent free in your mind (and his) since.

The second time Sylus babied you was while you two were lazed around the Onychinus base. It was a gloomy, rainy day which made a movie marathon the perfect choice of an activity. The minute you arrived; he was at your beck and call. He instructed you to sit and helped you remove your boots, changed you into cozy pajamas, and grabbed whatever item you needed to get comfy on the couch with him.

You both settled on watching a trilogy that neither of you have seen before. The second film was currently on, but it was paused. You were looking up cute cat videos on your phone as small pops and the buttery smell of popcorn wafted throughout the room.

You put your phone down when you heard Sylus return to the living room. He placed down a bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table before sitting on the couch. He pulled you back to your earlier position — which was between his legs — then pressed play to resume the movie. You were blissful as you used his chest tiddies as a pillow.

When a tense scene begins to play out, you hear Sylus dig into the bowl of popcorn. You don’t pay the sound much attention until his hand slowly invaded your field of vision.

You blinked a few times before a warm feeling spread throughout your body. With little hesitation, your mouth dropped open to accept the kernel of popcorn. While you chewed, he ate some popcorn in the meantime. And when you were done chewing, he offered you more pieces until you both had your fill, and the bowl was empty.

It made logical sense for him to feed you when you were sick. But now it seemed like an intentional act of service. You felt soft, cherished and taken care of in a way that you didn’t want to ponder on further. Instead, you were left visibly giddy the rest of the day.

(Sylus pretended not to notice this outcome.)

The third time Sylus babied you was on vacation.

You both managed to make the stars align so that his schedule was free of business deals in the N109 Zone and your time off request was approved by Jenna. You spent a full week together hiking in the mountains, sampling the local cuisine, and basking in each other’s company. Today was the last day of your vacation and you have ended up in a major city.

Tonight, you were dressed in a form fitting, mid-length dress that had a slit on your right side. Your makeup was beautifully done, highlighting your striking features.

Sylus donned an outfit that made your heart flutter each time you glanced his way. Although he typically favored dark colored clothing, tonight he was wearing a breezy, cream colored silk shirt, with linen dress pants. He exuded effortless confidence and was unbearably attractive. This, in addition to the relaxed aura this vacation afforded him was a magnetic combination.

You — and what felt like every other person in the restaurant — could not help but steal a glance at him. You tried to keep your jealous huffs to yourself, but you realized you failed when Sylus sends an amused glance your way.

He doesn’t have the opportunity to tease you over your apparent jealousy because the waiter came and placed your meals on the table. As you reached for your utensils, Sylus placed his hand on top of yours to stop you.

“Since this is the last day of our trip, please permit me one more self-indulgent experience.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your face warmed when you interpreted his request. He was making it clear that he wanted to feed you again, to baby you. But this time you were in public. His offer felt multifaceted.

Sylus was proudly broadcasting the nature of your relationship. It isn’t the first time he’s done this of course. But each time he does, it fills you with butterflies.

He’s making your heart sing because you’ve impatiently waited to see if he would initiate — whatever this is — again. And who are you to deny his wish?

You sent a faux annoyed look his way before nodding your head. It is only then that he scooted his chair closer and began to feed you bites of the creamy pasta dish you ordered. You can’t help but feel the weight of the gazes from the people seated near you. But it all melts away as Sylus focused his full attention on you and offered you perfectly portioned bites. The past few times you were unable to gauge his expression as he fed you, but tonight you had a front row seat to his beautiful visage.

His eyes have softened, and his lips are pulled into a subtle smile as he watched you enjoy each bite. The devotion in his eyes was clear and unmistakable. So much so that you cannot hold in the delighted giggles that bubbled up between bites.

“What’s so amusing kitten?” he asked you leisurely.

“Nothing, I just really love when you treat me like this,” you say shyly as you look down at the table.

“And how am I treating you?” he questioned.

“You’re…babying me,” you said in a hushed tone.

Sylus hummed and used his index and middle finger to tip your chin upwards, so your gaze met his again. “Of course I am, it’s what you deserve,” he rasps before leaning in for a kiss.

From that day, he shamelessly babied you in as many ways as you allowed and you have never felt more fulfilled.

Sylus loves taking care of you, whether it be financially, physically, or emotionally. To him, babying you is not “weird”, too much, or a chore for him. He would never question or tease you about enjoying this because he enjoys it just as much or more than you do.

[kekewrites]

How to make a baby 101

Tw. dubcon, dark content, virginity loss, breeding kink, creampie, size difference, a lil age gap (2-4 years), sex education gone wrong, cunnilingus, coercion, nicknames, creampie, overstimulation, corruption, reader is ignorant and innocent (sheltered, kinda went a bit mute at the snusnu part), nerdy to cocky (character)

***

Step 1: Ask your childhood friend to help you study for your exam.

"Hmm? How to make a baby?" His eyes widen a little, a small flicker of something in his eyes as you ask him about reproduction system or along that line.

"Well," he said slowly, his voice still composed but with a hint of surprise, "that's not quite how it works." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Making a baby is a bit more...complicated than that."

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, you listened attentively as he explained the mechanics of reproduction, his deep voice a low rumble. The bedroom lamp cast a warm glow over the scattered textbooks and printouts, illuminating your curious expression.

"Okay, so the male produces sperm, which are essentially cells with a tail..." He paused, realizing how bizarre that sounded. He pressed on. "Right. And the female ovulates an egg once a month. When the egg is fertilized by the sperm, it starts dividing and..." He flipped to a diagram showing the developing fetus week by week.

Your brow furrowed, your finger tracing the arc of a tiny spine. "But... how does the sperm get inside the egg?" you asked, genuinely puzzled.

He cleared his throat, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his neck despite the coolness of the room. He'd been dreading this part. "Uh... well, that happens through... sexual intercourse."

You blinked at him, "What's that mean?"

Fuck. Think, choose your words carefully.

"It means... when a man and a woman... um... physically join... their genitals..." His face felt like it was on fire.

You tilted your head, studying him with frank curiosity. "You mean like... when you put your penis in a girl's vagina?"

Direct, to the point, no nonsense. Just like her.

He blinked. Twice. Thrice. "Y-yes. Exactly like that," he managed to croak out.

"And the penis is like a big, FAT sperm," you said, matter-of-factly. "So the sperm comes out of there and swims up to the egg when the girl ovulates, and then they meet and the egg gets fertilized."

He stared at you, momentarily lost for words. "Er... yes. More or less," he agreed weakly.

Jesus fucking christ.

"But... why do you think the penis has to go inside the vagina to do that? Why can't the sperm just swim through the girl's belly button or something?" You asked, genuinely puzzled.

Because it fucking feels incredible, that's why. Among other reasons.

"W-well, because..." He took a deep breath. "The male... releases the sperm directly into the female's reproductive tract... to increase the chances of fertilizing the egg," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

God, could he sound more like a robot?

You nodded slowly, considering this. "Oh. Okay. So... the penis goes inside the vagina, and then the sperm comes out and swims up to the egg. That's how a baby gets made."

You're oversimplifying it, but... yes. Basically.

"That's right," He confirmed, feeling like a fraud. He'd failed to mention the vast majority of the process – the hormones, the emotions, the raw, animalistic need that drove humans to couple.

At least until she's old enough to understand... and maybe hate me for it.

Looking down at the diagrams strewn across the bedspread, frowning slightly. "I still don't really get why the penis has to be inside the vagina though..." she mused. "Is that like... really important?"

Fuck me, it's not just important, it's essential. Indispensable. Irresistible.

And I really need to stop thinking about this before I embarrass myself.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even. "It's... yes. It's very important. For biological reasons," he said shortly.

Like the fact that a man loses his goddamn mind with lust when he's buried inside a woman's tight, wet heat. Fuck.

"Oh. Okay..." You said slowly. "I guess that makes sense."

Thank fuck for that.

Tapping your chin thoughtfully. "So... the penis gets hard, and then it goes inside the vagina, and then the man ejaculates the sperm, and that's how a baby happens..."

Too fucking right it is. Among other things.

"...and then the egg gets fertilized, and the baby starts growing in the womb..."

He nodded jerkily. "Yes, that's... that's pretty much it," he agreed, feeling like he was standing in the middle of a firing range with a live grenade in his hand.

And I'm the fucking grenade.

"And then the baby comes out and..."

And a man comes so fucking hard he sees stars, buried balls-deep in a woman's clenching, spasming cunt...

You were still talking, but your voice faded into static as a dizzying rush of images flooded his brain. The slick glide of a woman's hot, velvety walls gripping his aching cock like a fist, the filthy slap of skin on skin, the debauched sounds of pleasure spilling from kiss-swollen lips...

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Step 2: Preparing to make a baby.

"So first you need to get comfortable, lie back on the bed." He instructs calmly, his deep voice low and clear. He watches as you reluctantly complies, easing herself onto the edge of the bed.

"Good girl," he praises softly, careful not to let his growing desire bleed into his tone. "Now spread your legs for me, nice and wide. I need to inspect you closely first."

You hesitate a moment before slowly parting your thighs, revealing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze. He feels his cock twitch in anticipation but forces himself to focus.

"Beautiful..." he murmurs, more to himself than to you. He kneels down between your spread legs, bringing his face level with your core. Inhaling deeply, he catches the scent - musky and heady, already tinged with arousal.

"The first step is to get you nice and excited," he explains, his voice still calm despite the building heat between them. "I'm going to start by stimulating your clit. Can you tell me where that is?"

When you glance down uncertainly, "Shh, it's okay. I'll guide you."

He parts the lower lips with his thumbs, exposing the delicate flesh of your inner walls. Your clit peeks out from beneath its hood, already glistening slightly.

"There it is," he murmurs, tracing the swollen nub with the pad of his thumb. "It's this sensitive little button here. When I touch it, you'll feel sparks of pleasure. Don't fight it."

True to his word, he begins to stroke your clit with a feather-light touch, circling and flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves. Almost immediately, you gasp and writhes beneath his ministrations.

"That's it sweetheart," he encourages, his own breathing growing a bit ragged. "Let yourself feel good. Get nice and wet for me..."

His fingers delve deeper, parting your slick folds and seeking the entrance to her channel. "You're already so wet," he groans softly, feeling her silky walls clench around his probing touch. "That's perfect..."

He works his fingers inside, curling them to brush against that spongey spot deep within, as his thumb continues to circle your clit. The dual stimulation has you arching off the bed, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Good girl, just like that," he praises huskily, pumping his fingers steadily in and out of her tight heat. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Getting so nice and ready for me..."

He leans in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your drenched folds. The scent of your desire is intoxicating, making his head swim. Unable to resist, he dips his head and runs his tongue along your slit.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles, his voice vibrating, "I could eat this pretty pussy for hours..."

He seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently. At the same time, he increases the speed and pressure of his fingers pumping into, curling them to ruthlessly stimulate that special spot inside.

You cry out sharply, hips bucking up against his mouth as your pleasure spirals rapidly. He just grips your thighs tighter, holding in place as he continues his relentless assault. Feeling your walls starting to quiver and clench erratically around his plunging fingers.

"That's it, baby," he urges between licks and suckles, his words slightly muffled. "Come for me. I want to feel you come all over my tongue..."

He redoubles his efforts, determined to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. His cock throbs almost painfully in his pants, leaking pre-cum at the thought of burying himself inside.

Crying out, back arching sharply as orgasm crashes over you. Inner muscles clench and spasm around his invading fingers, gushing fluid that he eagerly laps up.

As your spasms slowly subside, his tongue now lapping softly at your sensitive flesh, soothing through the aftershocks. He releases your clit from his lips and places tender kisses along the inner thighs as he slowly withdraws his fingers.

When he finally lifts his head, face is glistening with juices, a look of deep satisfaction on his handsome features. He crawls up your body to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss - letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Mmm, you're exquisite," he murmurs against her mouth when he finally comes up for air. "So responsive and sweet..."

Step 3: This is how a baby is made.

Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazes down at you, naked, flushed form. He can still taste you on his tongue.

"Now, sweetheart, the next step is for me to enter you," he explains, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. "I'll need to guide myself inside your tight little cunt. It might feel a bit intense at first."

His hands skim down your inner thighs, parting them further as he settles himself between them. With one hand, he frees his aching cock from the confines of his pants. It springs forth, thick and hard, the bulbous head already glistening with pre-cum.

Wrapping his fingers around the base, giving himself a few slow pumps as he lines himself up with your entrance. He can feel the slick folds fluttering against the tip of his member as he teases the opening. Biting his lip, he fights the urge to simply slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. He needs to go slow, to let her adjust to his size.

Slowly, he pushes forward, feeling tight walls parting for his girth. He has to grit his teeth at the exquisite sensation. You let out a shaky moan, fingers digging into the sheets below.

"That's it, baby," He grits out. "Take me inside you, feels so fucking good." He bottoms out with a low groan, heavy balls nestling against your ass. He stays still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so utterly stuffed full.

Leaning down, he capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing whimpers and moans as he begins to move. He starts with shallow thrusts, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside, before plunging back in to the hilt. Gradually, he increases his pace, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he claims her body as his. He savors the taste of your mouth.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, pausing to nip and suck at the racing pulse point. "You feel incredible," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "So tight and perfect, like you were made for me..."

His hand drifts down to your breast, cupping the soft mound possessively. He kneads it with gentle pressure, thumb brushing over the stiff peak of her nipple. Feeling it pebble further beneath his touch, he dips his head to take the hardened nub into his mouth.

You gasp sharply, arching up into him as he suckles the nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh.

"Gonna...fuck...cum inside you," he grunts, feeling his release fast approaching. "Gonna pump you full...make you...mine..."

His strokes become erratic, each driving thrust pushing him closer to the edge. He can feel his cock pulsing and jerking inside her slick sheath, his heavy balls drawing up in anticipation.

"Remember sweetheart," he pants harshly, eyes burning into you. "For me to fill you with my seed...you need to be ready to receive it. Open for me, baby...let me fill you up..."

He reaches down to rub tight circles over throbbing clit, wanting to feel you spasm around him as he finds his release deep inside. The lesson is simple - to make a baby, they both need to let go. Body tenses, muscles coiled taut as a bowstring as he teeters on the brink of ecstasy. With a hoarse shout of your name, he hilts inside one final time and erupts. His cock jerks and pulses, painting the insides white with his hot, thick seed.

"Fuuuuck, yes! Take it baby, take my cum!" eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. Holding you in place as he empties himself deep inside.

Head thrown back and eyes rolled up as your own climax slams in your core. Milking him for every last drop of his potent release.

They remain locked together, chests heaving and sweat-slicked skin pressed close as they bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Mmm, you did so well, sweetheart," he murmurs after a long moment, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. "Took every drop like you were made for it."

He leans in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

"That's how you make a baby," he whispers.

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD THINGS BATBOYS DO WHEN THEY LIKE YOU ── .✦

a/n: this is a request + ask so tysm to whoever sent that but it’s (here) but anyways I’m so excited for my birthday on december 7th this year and it’s just so beautiful to see me grow up honestly and find myself. (Tags: batboys x crush!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Excessive Flexing (Literally): Dick will "accidentally" do pull-ups in front of you. He’s already shirtless and grinning, saying, “Oh, didn’t see you there. Wanna join?”

Compliment Overload: “Is that a new hairstyle? New shoes? You look incredible. Oh, wait, you always look incredible.” He will literally point out your eyelashes looking perfect “wow so nice, your lashes are so long and beautiful.”

The Over-Helper: He suddenly insists on helping you with everything—carrying bags, opening jars, lifting heavy stuff—and does it with the biggest, dorkiest smile. “It’s no big deal, bab- I mean—uh… friend.”

Trips Over Air: He’s graceful in battle, but near you? He’s knocking over coffee cups and walking into doorframes. "I swear, I’m usually coordinated, maybe I’m falling for you?😉”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Overly Cool Persona: He tries to play it cool, acting like he doesn’t care. But then he’ll text you at 3 a.m. with, “U up? I found a meme that reminded me of you.”

Teases You Constantly: Jason’s version of flirting is lightly roasting you. “Did you really think that outfit would work today?” But if anyone else says something, he’s ready to fight.

Surprise Gifts: He’ll give you something like your favorite snack but pretend it’s no big deal. “I just had extra,” he’ll mumble, even though he went to three stores to find it.

Blushes Like Crazy: He’s all tough-guy until you compliment him, and then it’s over. He gets red and stammers, “Shut up,” while smiling like an idiot.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward Genius Mode: He’s smart with everything… except his crush. Suddenly, forming coherent sentences is a challenge. “I-I mean, uh… yeah, computers.”

Googles 'How to Flirt': You’ll catch him peeking at his phone mid-conversation because he’s literally reading “Flirting 101” or reading Reddit threads on flirting gone wrong.

Coffee Delivery: He’ll bring you coffee with your exact order memorized and pretend it’s casual. “Oh, you like this too? Weird coincidence.” It’s not. He asked around for hours.

Accidentally Compliments You: He’ll blurt out, “You smell nice.” Pause. “I mean, not that I’m sniffing you or anything!” Cue him turning bright red and hiding behind his laptop.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends He Doesn’t Care: He’ll act indifferent but secretly monitors everything you do. “I don’t care what you do,” he says while glaring at someone standing too close to you.

Suddenly Overly Polite: Damian, the king of sass, becomes weirdly respectful. “Would you like me to carry that for you? No? Okay. Are you sure?”

Gives You Fancy Gifts: He gifts you rare, expensive things like hand-picked flowers from the Wayne estate garden. “It’s not a big deal. Just take it.”

Random Acts of Bravery: He’ll jump in front of a moving bicycle or push you out of the way of a puddle, then act like it was nothing. “It was instinct. Don’t be dramatic.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Becomes an Awkward flirt: He’s smooth in public but completely loses it around his crush. “Do you need anything? No? Water? A chair?” He’s offering things you don’t need.

Over-Explains Everything: Bruce will start talking about something mundane and give a full TED Talk. “Well, you see, the Batmobile’s engine is unique because…” You just wanted to know if it had cup holders.

Subtle Touches: He’ll brush your hand “accidentally” or adjust your coat collar, lingering just a second too long. But if you call him out, he’ll stammer, “I thought you were cold.”

Silent Protector: He’ll stand silently in the background, watching like a brooding guardian angel. If anyone flirts with you, his jaw clenches like it’s personal.

Bonus: Dumb Things They ALL Do ── .✦

Group Text Fiascos: They’ll text each other for advice, and it always goes wrong.

Jason: “Should I call her pretty or hot?”

Tim: “Say she’s breathtaking. It’s classier.”

Dick: “Just tell her you love her.”

Damian: “You’re all fools.”

Bruce (accidentally replying to all): “…Delete this.”

Staring Too Long: Every single one of them will stare at you for too long, only to awkwardly look away when you notice. They’ll try to play it off, but you know they were looking.

Clumsy Idiots: They’ll all try to do something impressive—lift something heavy, show off their fighting skills—and it’ll backfire hilariously. But the effort is adorable.

[losermuse]

HOW TO MANIPULATE WIN YOUR EX BACK 101 ~ by caleb

CW: 18+ (mdni), fem & non-hunter mc, delusional yandere!caleb, pet names (baby & pipsqueak), male & female masturbation (separate), piv (in caleb’s imagination) , praise kink, panty sniffing, voyeurism (?), stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, power dynamic. WC: 9.4k AN: finally posting this after a month! comments & reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Your relationship with Caleb was brief, just a few months, but it felt suffocatingly long. You had always valued your independence, the freedom to spread your wings and fly wherever you pleased. But with him? It was like having those wings clipped, held down by invisible strings of concern, control, and possessiveness disguised as love.

At first, it was subtly sweet. The way he always wanted to know where you were, checking in constantly like he cared a little too much. The way he insisted on picking you up from work, from dinners, from places you were perfectly capable of leaving on your own.

But then it escalated. 

Questions turned into interrogations. Concerns turned into restrictions. Suddenly, your phone buzzed with his messages every time you were out, and your decisions were met with disapproving looks and lectures disguised as "worry."

And it only got worse because you had no Evol, no abilities to shield you from danger, no built-in safeguard if something went wrong. To him, that made you vulnerable, fragile and in need of someone like him. But seriously though, you have managed just fine before he ever came into your life.

At first, you tolerated it, convincing yourself it was just his way of showing love. You dismissed it as a habit from his job as a colonel, structured, disciplined, and always anticipating worst-case scenarios. You told yourself it was normal, that some people love fiercely, protectively and maybe that’s true.  

But love shouldn’t feel like surveillance. It shouldn’t feel like being second-guessed at every turn, like justifying your choices to someone who sees your independence as a threat instead of a strength. It shouldn’t feel like ripping your wings, like trading your freedom for someone else’s comfort.  

And the moment you realized that? You knew it was over.

–

The phone buzzed in your hand, ‘Caleb ♡’ flashing across the screen for the fifth time in a row. You hesitated, exhaling slowly before finally answering.

“You’re still ignoring me?” His voice came through the speaker, tight with frustration. No hello. No softness.

You rolled your eyes, shifting the suitcase beside you. “I’m not ignoring you, Caleb. I’m busy packing.”

“For that trip,” he said flatly.

“Yes. For that trip.”

A tense silence stretched between you. Then, with a humourless laugh, he said, “So you’re really going through with this?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already exhausted. “Caleb, I’ve told you a hundred times—this is happening. It’s just me and the girls. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is to me,” he snapped. “You’re leaving for an entire weekend, in Linkon City, with no one looking out for you. Do you know how dangerous that is? Especially with the Wanderers around.”

Your grip tightened on the phone. “Linkon City is perfectly safe, thanks to the Hunters, and I know how to take care of myself.”

“That’s not the point.” His voice dropped, low and insistent. “What if something happens to you? What if you need me and I’m not there?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Caleb, something always ‘might’ happen. I could trip over my own feet walking down the street, and you’d still act like I need supervision.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you thinking my freedom is something you have a right to control.”

Another silence. You could almost picture him now, jaw clenched, hands running through his hair in frustration. But you were past the point of softening your words to ease his temper.

“I love you,” he finally said, voice quieter now. “I just don���t want to lose you.”

Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “You already did.”

Caleb drew in a breath like he was about to argue, to find the right words to pull you back, but you didn’t give him the chance. You ended the call before he could even try, letting the silence speak for itself.

She’s gone…she actually just hung up on me. Just like that?

She thinks she’s done with me? Cute. Adorable, even. She’s just confused right now. A phase. A temporary lapse in judgment. I mean, we were practically perfect together—okay, maybe not perfect, but close enough. We had a good thing. I’ll give her a few weeks or months to stew over it. She’ll come back. She just doesn’t know it yet.

She needs “freedom”? Sure. Great. Go ahead and get your little “freedom,” pipsqueak. Go on your trip with the girls and post your little Instagram stories with your cocktails and your cheesy ‘healing’ captions. I’ll pretend like I’m not paying attention to the comments or checking who’s liking every picture.

But the second she realizes that no one out there will worship the ground she walks on like I do? The second she sees that no other guy will remember every little detail about her—how she likes her tea, how she hums that one song when she’s doing the dishes but refuses to admit it’s her favourite, how she’s got a million tabs open on her browser but never actually reads anything?

She’ll come running back.

She’ll remember how good we were together. How great we were.

I will wait for you when you are ready. 

– 

You felt… liberated, to say the least. A weekend away with your girlfriends was just what you needed. You spent hours catching up, sharing stories, and laughing—something you hadn't realized you’d missed so much. When you told them about your breakup with Caleb, they were surprised but not entirely shocked. They knew you valued your independence too much to settle for anything less than respect, and Caleb's overbearing nature had always been a point of concern for them.

The weekend unfolded in a blissful blur of indulgence and carefree moments. You enjoyed fancy dinners, basked under the sun at the beach, and dipped your feet into the pool while losing yourself in a book. You sipped on refreshing mocktails, took silly pictures, and felt the weight of stress melt away.

At the beach, you and your friends lounged on the warm sand, indulging in playful eye-candy scouting, and a man with dusky purple hair and striking bluish-pink eyes caught your attention. He looked almost unreal, like something pulled from the pages of a fairytale. Ethereal. Enchanting. If mermaids walked on land, you were certain they’d look just like him.

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb took matters into his own hands. While you were away, he broke into your apartment—too bad your security wasn’t up to par. That’s exactly why you needed someone like him, right? His eyes roamed your personal space like it was land he wasn’t prepared to lose. He set up cameras carefully, one in the living room, another in your bedroom, and even one in the bathroom. To Caleb, letting you slip away wasn’t an option.

He’d give you the space you demanded, sure, but only on his terms. In his mind, you were still his regardless of what you thought. He convinced himself that it was his right to keep watch and to ensure your safety, with or without your consent.

–

When you returned to Skyhaven, it hit you—reality, that is. Back to your job, back to your life, and Caleb…well, Caleb wasn’t part of that anymore. You have ended things. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. You had expected him to bombard you with texts, but surprisingly, your phone was quiet. Too quiet.

You even posted a picture of yourself in that dress—the one that hugged your figure just right, the colours bright against your skin and the way the hibiscus in your hair caught the light. You were proud of how you looked, but when you checked your notifications, there was no comment, no like from him. A little part of you felt a pang, but you shook it off.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb had seen the picture, and it consumed him. He was furious, very furious that you dared to wear something so revealing, something that might catch the eye of someone else, without him there. If you were going to wear something like that, it should’ve been with him by your side, where he could keep an eye on you. He would’ve let you wear it, after all, he could fight anyone who dared to look too long, but without him around? It made his blood boil.

And yet, despite the frustration, his body betrayed him. The second he saw that picture, he was already half-hard. God, you guys had never even fucked. You had called it “too soon” and had wanted to take things slow, and fine—he respected that. Somewhat. But damn, you had no idea how badly you messed with him, how pent-up he always was around you.

His fist clenched as he freed himself from his sweatpants, his cock already straining. One hand gripping his phone, the other wrapped around his length, stroking slowly as he imagined it was you—your soft hands and your cunt wrapped around him instead. 

His breathing turned ragged as the images flooded his mind. He pictured you beneath him, stretched wide with your voice trembling as you begged him to go slow, to be gentle. Fuck, he wanted to come, but the frustration twisted inside him, mixing with his hunger. He needed more. He needed you.

Tossing his phone aside, he got up and strode to his dresser, yanking open the drawer. And there it was, the hidden treasure—delicate and lace-trimmed, the soft fabric nestled right where he left it. Your panties.

 He may or may not have swiped them when he was setting up the cameras in your apartment, but did that matter? That’s the least you could do for breaking up with him over the phone.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply with his eyes fluttering shut. The scent was faint, just traces of laundry detergent and fabric softener, but he wanted more. He wanted them used, soaked in your scent, dripping in proof of how much you needed him. His fingers tightened around the fabric as he pumped his cock faster, lost in the thought of ruining you, marking you, making sure you never even considered leaving him again.

"Caleb!" Your voice cracked, high and desperate. His cock twitched at the sound.

He could almost feel it—the way your walls clenched around him, trying to force him out while greedily pulling him back in.

"St–stop!"

He chuckled darkly, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. "Stop?" he echoed mockingly. His hand gripped your thigh, pressing your legs apart despite the way you trembled beneath him. "You’re squeezing me so tight, pips. You don’t really want me to stop, do you?"

Your nails dug into his shoulders, useless resistance. "N-no… but—"

“That’s right,” he growled, thrusting deeper, drinking in the way you choked on your own breath. "You take me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me."

He imagined your head tilting back, lips trembling, and body writhing against the sheets, too fucked-out to fight him anymore. Your voice, once filled with hesitation, melted into helpless little whimpers.

"Too—too much, Caleb…"

“Too much?” He kissed down your throat, his teeth scraping against your pulse. "But pipsqueak, I’m just getting started."

His strokes quickened, both in reality and the vivid fantasy he was spiralling deeper into. The panties in his grasp crumpled under the force of his grip, his knuckles turning white as he pressed the fabric against his nose, desperate to drown in the ghost of your presence.

He could see it so clearly—you spreading out beneath him, legs trembling and tears glistening in your eyes. Wrecked. Shattered.

“That’s my girl. You don’t need to think, just feel. Let me take care of you.”

His hips jerked, pleasure coiling tight, winding dangerously. He imagined the final moment—your body arching, your lips parting in a silent scream as he claimed you.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as his release overtook him, thick ropes of white spilling over his abs and chest. His body shuddered, fingers twitching, and his breath was unsteady.

But as the high ebbed, a bitter frustration gnawed at him.

It wasn’t enough.

Because it wasn’t you. Not yet.

step 1: show her that youre a 'changed man'

‘coincidentally’ run into her

dress well (make sure she notices) 

speak softly

give her the puppy eyes, shes always been weak for that

ask her if she wanna be friends 

smile, but not too much

A few months had passed since the breakup. Life moved forward, as it always did. You missed him sometimes, small moments of nostalgia creeping in when you passed by places you once shared. But you reminded yourself why you left. Missing someone didn’t mean you belonged with them.

Caleb, however, never truly left.

He had been watching. Through the flickering screens in his dimly lit room, through the quiet hum of surveillance, he had memorised every part of your life. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear while reading, the way you curled up on the couch with your favourite mug. He studied your routine like a scripture.

And now, it was time.

He knew your new favourite café—how you liked to sit by the window, how you always ordered the same drink. So when he "accidentally" ran into you, it would feel natural.

A harmless coincidence.

"Wow, I wasn’t expecting to see you here… You look good."

Your head snapped up at the familiar voice. “Oh… hey.” Your fingers instinctively tightened around your cup before you forced yourself to relax, putting your phone down. The awkwardness between you was obvious.

He took a step closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket with a casual posture. “I wasn’t sure if I should say hi. I didn’t want to bother you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the Caleb you remembered. He always carried himself with confidence, sometimes bordering on arrogance. But now… he seemed different. Softer.

“It’s fine,” you replied, clearing your throat. “It’s… been a while.”

“It has,” he agreed, the purple eyes you once adored scanned your face like he was memorising you all over again. “You look… happy.”

You shifted in your seat. “I am.”

A small, almost wistful smile tugged at his lips. “That’s good. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

The words landed heavily, leaving a strange warmth in your chest—guilt? Sadness? You weren’t sure.

Before you could respond, he gestured toward the chair across from you. “Do you mind if I sit? Just for a minute. I don’t want to make things weird, I just—” He exhaled softly, shaking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “I don’t know. Seeing you here gave me whiplash.”

The hesitation in his voice, the way he seemed almost vulnerable. It made it hard to say no.

“…Yeah, okay. Just for a minute.”

He sat down, hands clasped together on the table, eyes never leaving yours.

“So,” he started, offering a small smile, “tell me, what’s new?”

"Nothing much, just work and stuff," you said, offering a shrug as you took another sip from your coffee. You felt a little uncomfortable, but you didn’t want to make it obvious. He was just sitting there, quietly watching you, like he was soaking in every detail of your response.

“Ah, yeah, I get that. Work can really take over sometimes,” he replied, nodding sympathetically. “I’ve been keeping busy too. Just… trying to focus on myself, y’know?” 

You nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going. “That’s good. It’s important to focus on yourself.”

A quiet moment passed, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking a lot about… things, y’know, since we last talked. I’ve had time to reflect, and I realised I probably could’ve done a lot better. With us.” His voice softened, almost vulnerable.

You felt a strange discomfort at his words, unsure how to respond. “I—I mean… we’re good now, right?” You paused, awkwardly fidgeting with the edge of your coffee cup. “It’s all in the past.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. There was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “Yeah, I know. I… I’ve been working on myself. I’ve changed, really. I just hope that…you’re doing okay.”

“I’m good. Really.” You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the flood of emotions that were slowly rising within you. “I’m happy. I’m in a good place.”

He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a small, almost bittersweet smile. “I’m glad. I just wanted you to know that I—” He paused, looking down at his hands, then back up at you. “I never stopped caring about you, y’know? I’ve always wanted what’s best for you.”

“Caleb…” you started, unsure how to respond, but your thoughts were jumbled. What was he saying? Was he genuinely apologising? 

“I know things ended badly, but I just… I wanted you to know that I’ve learned from all of it. From my mistakes. And I’m not asking for anything, but maybe, just maybe, we could start over as friends? Take things slow…?”

You bit your lip, feeling a sudden rush of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he had changed, but the other part of you… was still wary. You didn’t want to repeat past mistakes.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, glancing down at your cup, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s all of a—”

“Just think about it,” he interjected gently, his tone almost pleading. “I’m not asking for much, just… a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m different.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. For a moment, it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something you didn’t know if you were ready for. But Caleb, the version of him sitting across from you now, seemed almost like a stranger. Yet there was something familiar about his presence.

“I… I don’t know, Caleb,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need time.”

His face softened, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure as his words sank in. “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

Caleb let out a slow breath as if he had been holding it in, his lips curling into the softest smile. But it wasn’t just the smile—it was the way his eyes rounded slightly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping into his usually confident gaze.

“Really?” His voice was just a little too hopeful, like he wasn’t expecting you to even consider it. “You’ll think about it?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like the bad guy for making him wait. “I didn’t say yes,” you reminded him quickly, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I just… need time like I said.”

He nodded eagerly, that soft, almost puppy-like expression still in place. “Of course. I get it. Take all the time you need.” His fingers tapped lightly against the table before he let out a breathy chuckle. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

And just like that, the tension in your chest eased—only slightly, but enough to make you feel like maybe, maybe you had been too hard on him.

Caleb watched as you hesitated, the smallest flicker of indecision in your eyes. It was barely there, but he caught it, and inside, he was grinning. You were already bending, already second-guessing.

He pushed back his chair, standing with an effortless grace. “I should probably get going,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of your evening.”

You blinked. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

He hesitated for just a second longer, then flashed you one last smile—the perfect mix of warmth and quiet longing. “I’ll be around,” he said, his voice soft, before making his way to the door.

As he stepped outside, the cool night air hitting his skin, he let his expression shift. His smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, triumphant. You had no idea, did you?

His plan was falling into place perfectly.

Step 1: Successful.

step 2: make her doubt herself and weaken her boundaries

highlight her ‘flaws’ even though shes already perfect

emphasise her independence a lot

buy wine and cook sweet and sour chicken with rice

stock up on apples

After the unexpected run-in with Caleb, you didn’t expect things to go anywhere, at least not like this. But somehow, things started feeling easy again between you two, like the months apart had melted away in the span of a few casual conversations. He always had that ability, didn’t he? He made everything feel natural and effortless, even though you knew it shouldn’t.

It was part of his charm, after all—the reason you’d fallen for him in the first place.

The invitation was where it all started. 

“You have to let me cook for you,” he insisted, flashing that easy grin. “You always loved my cooking. Just one meal, no pressure.”

And somehow, you found yourself here again.

His penthouse hadn’t changed at all since the last time you were here—same sleek, modern design, the ambient lighting casting a soft glow over the dark furniture. The air smelled warm and familiar, a mix of spices and something distinctly Caleb. You sat at the dining table, watching him move around the kitchen like a busy housewife. The soft sizzle of sweet and sour chicken filled the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly steamed rice.

He plated the food with the same care he always did, setting it in front of you before finally taking a seat beside you instead of across from you like he used to. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Go on,” he urged, nudging your spoon toward you.

You picked it up hesitantly and took a bite. The flavours burst on your tongue—sweet, tangy, and perfectly balanced. It reminded you of nights when this used to be normal. When Caleb would cook, you’d sit beside him, talking about everything and nothing.

“Still the best cook I know,” you admitted, offering a small smile.

He chuckled, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”

He took a bite of his own, watching you carefully as you ate. Then, after a pause, his expression softened.

“You look tired.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He gestured subtly toward you. “Your eyes. A little duller than usual. And you’ve been rubbing your temples since you got here.”

You forced a laugh, setting your spoon down. “I guess I’ve been busy.”

He hummed, swirling his drink in his hand. “You always push yourself too hard. You used to do the same thing when we were together, remember?”

You tensed slightly. “I’ll manage.”

“I know you will,” he said smoothly. “You always do. But that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

You frowned, slightly offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to something softer—something that felt too close, too knowing. “You never let yourself slow down. Even when you’re exhausted, you just push through it.” He shook his head, smiling faintly. “You used to get those headaches from working too much, and you’d act like it was nothing until I made you stop and rest.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the table.

“I used to love that about you,” he continued, voice warm, laced with nostalgia. “How stubborn you are. How much you take on without ever asking for help.”

“I don’t need help,” you said, a little too quickly.

His lips barely twitched, as if he’d expected that answer. “I know.” He leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his drink. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

The warmth of the room suddenly felt heavier.

You forced another small laugh, reaching for your glass. “I’m fine, Caleb.”

He smiled, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “Of course.”

The conversation drifted to safer topics after that, but the weight of his words lingered. By the time you set your spoon down, you couldn’t shake the strange unease settling in your chest.

Maybe you were pushing yourself too hard. Maybe you weren’t as fine as you thought.

Maybe… Caleb wasn’t wrong.

He didn’t miss the way your spoon hovered slightly above your plate, how your eyes drifted just a little too long, lost in thought. The confident ease you had when you first arrived had faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

You were thinking about what he said.

A quiet satisfaction curled in his chest, but he didn’t press. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, nudging your knee again. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood,” he said lightly. “You got really quiet on me.”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “Oh—sorry. I was just…thinking, I guess.”

His lips twitched. Perfect.

He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against his hand. “Heavy thoughts?”

You hesitated, then shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Maybe…I have been overworking myself a little.”

That was all he needed.

His expression softened, the perfect mix of concern and understanding. “See? That’s all I meant. I worry that’s all.” He exhaled, leaning back slightly. “You give so much of yourself to everything you do, but who’s making sure you don’t burn out?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You had friends, of course. People who cared. But… no one really checked in on you like that. Not in the way Caleb always had.

You shook your head as if physically trying to push the thought away. “I’ll manage,” you repeated.

Caleb let a small, knowing smile creep onto his lips before setting his drink down. 

Not for long.

A beat of silence settled before he suddenly stood, stretching slightly. “Why don’t I cut us some apples?” he said, already moving toward the kitchen. “I bought some fresh ones this morning. You’ll love them.”

You blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “Oh—um, you don’t have to.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “I want to.” His lips curved as he reached for a knife. “Besides, they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re such a goof.”

Caleb smirked but didn’t respond as he started slicing. The rhythmic thunk of the blade against the cutting board filled the space, and you watched as he didn’t just cut the apples into simple wedges, he carved them into small bunny shapes.

Your brows lifted. “Are you seriously making bunny apples right now?”

He smirked, carefully peeling back the “ears” of one of the slices. “Obviously. What, you think I’d just give you a boring apple slice?”

You leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite yourself. “Since when do you know how to do that?”

Caleb shot you a knowing look as he set another bunny slice onto the plate. “I have my secrets.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He chuckled, finally returning to his seat beside you with the plate, setting it down between you both. The little apple bunnies were lined up neatly, their tiny “ears” perked up as if they were waiting to be eaten.

You stared at them, then at him. “I hate that this is actually kinda impressive.”

He grinned, picking one up for himself. “I accept your reluctant admiration.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you picked up an apple bunny and took a bite. It was crisp, sweet, and frustratingly perfect.

“See?” Caleb murmured, watching you with quiet satisfaction. “Worth the effort, right?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. “You’re so weird.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, nudging his knee against yours again. “Still eating my expertly crafted bunny apples.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. The playful exchange had lightened the air between you, momentarily softening your earlier hesitations.

And Caleb, watching the way your guard lowered just a little more, couldn’t help but smile.

Step 2? Already working.

step 3: make her depend on you

catch her lacking

secretly send the gym voucher in her mail

act natural 

comfort her when she vents

touch her and stay close to her 

It had been a week since Caleb’s words lodged themselves in your mind like an unwelcome guest. You give so much and don’t feel appreciated enough. You had brushed it off at the time, but the thought had lingered, creeping back in at moments you least expected.

That was probably why you were here now, in a gym of all places, desperate to burn off the frustration bubbling inside you, to drown out the noise in your head while your feet pounded against the treadmill.

Still, the fact that you ended up here felt like a weird coincidence. A few days ago, you received a gym voucher in the mail—an exclusive trial membership with an almost suspiciously good discount. You weren’t even sure how it ended up in your mailbox. You had never been the gym type, and you certainly hadn’t signed up for anything like this. But it was affordable, and after the week you had, it felt like a sign from the universe. (It wasn’t. It was Caleb)

Work had been exhausting. Again. Your boss barely acknowledged your input, and one particular smug bastard had conveniently taken full credit for your idea, flashing that self-satisfied grin like he’d done all the work.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. Your fingers hovered over the treadmill’s controls before you cranked up the speed. If only you could just run him over with a car and—

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

The familiar voice cut through the gym’s ambient noise, and for a second, your fingers twitched against the treadmill’s handles.

You turned your head, already bracing yourself and oh my god.

Caleb stood beside you, effortlessly leaning against the treadmill next to yours, a towel slung lazily around his neck, a water bottle in one hand. The athletic shorts highlighted the muscles in his legs, and his white workout shirt clung to his chest in a way that made you way too aware of how well he filled it out. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin told you he had been here for a while.

You forced yourself to look away. “Yeah, well… needed to clear my head.” You coughed, willing your pulse to settle.

He raised an eyebrow as he stepped onto the treadmill beside you, setting his pace to a casual jog. “Didn’t realize you went to the gym.”

You let out a short breath, still jogging. “Is that an insult?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Not at all. Just… surprised.” His eyes flicked toward your treadmill screen, tracking your speed. “Didn’t peg you as the intense type.”

You scoffed, wiping a stray strand of hair from your face. “Well, maybe you’re not the only one who’s changed.”

He hummed, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.”

He didn’t need to say more. The seed was already planted.

Caleb kept pace beside you, his breathing even and movements effortless. It was infuriating how easily he made it look like he wasn’t even trying. Meanwhile, you were actively fighting the urge to focus on the burning in your legs, determined not to let him see you struggle.

“So,” he started, voice smooth and casual, “bad day at work?”

You exhaled sharply. “Something like that.”

“Let me guess,” he mused, glancing at you. “Your boss ignored your input again, and some asshole took credit for your idea?”

Your steps faltered just slightly before you caught yourself. “How—”

Caleb let out a chuckle. “You always get this look when you’re pissed about work. It’s subtle, but I’ve seen it before.”

You frowned, not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. “Right. Forgot you were a human lie detector or whatever.”

“Not a lie detector,” he corrected, his smirk deepening. “Just really good at reading you.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong. Caleb had always known how to read you, sometimes even before you could fully process your own emotions. He had a way of catching onto things, of noticing the smallest shifts in your mood. It used to be comforting. Now, it felt a little dangerous.

You swallowed, fixing your gaze ahead. “Well, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Of course,” he said easily. “You’re strong. Always have been.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, throwing off your rhythm for half a second. You recovered quickly, but not before Caleb noticed.

His smirk softened. “But even strong people get tired.”

Your grip tightened on the treadmill handles. Damn it. You hated how easily his words seeped under your skin, how they poked at the very thing you’d been trying to suppress all day.

“So what?” you said, forcing a lightness into your tone. “You think I need a pep talk?”

Caleb’s eyes never left you. “I think you need a reminder that you don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

Your breath hitched. 

For a moment, you didn’t respond, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of your feet against the treadmill. It was easier than acknowledging the warmth creeping up your spine, the way his words sat heavy in your chest.

This was exactly what you didn’t need.

The problem with Caleb was that he made things sound so simple. He made it so easy to forget why you left, why you needed space. He said the right things, knew which buttons to press, and worst of all, he still made you feel.

And that? That was a risk you weren’t sure you could afford.

You let out a breath, slowing your pace slightly. “Well, thanks for the unsolicited wisdom, Dr. Phil.”

Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. “Anytime.”

A silence settled between you, not quite uncomfortable but charged with something you refuse to acknowledge.

Caleb then stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. “Y’know, since you’re new here, I could show you around. Make sure you don’t, I don’t know, drop a weight on your foot or something.”

You shot him a dry look. “Wow, so much faith in me.”

“Just looking out for you,” he said, that damn smirk back in place. “Like I always have.”

And there it was again—that reminder. That thread of familiarity, of us, woven so seamlessly into his words.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

And Caleb saw it, felt it.

He wasn’t in a rush. This was all part of the game.

So when you finally sighed and mumbled, “Fine. But no unsolicited advice,” he just grinned.

Step 3 was right on track.

– 

You come back from the gym feeling drained and your muscles aching. Caleb had taken it upon himself to train you after the tour, just the basics, he said, nothing too serious, he said. But the way his hands lingered, the way his voice dropped lower every time he corrected your form, sent a slow-burning heat through you that had nothing to do with exercise.

"You’re tensing up too much. Relax…there you go."

You dragged a hand through your hair, exhaling. It was just adrenaline. 

But when you closed your eyes, all you could think about was the way his fingers skimmed your sides, the quiet hum of his approval when you finally got the movement right. The way his eyes had looked at you.

"Good girl. Just like that."

Fuck it.

Now, alone in your bedroom, you collapsed onto your bed, chest rising and falling, but the tension in your body hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled deep, persistent, and impossible to ignore.

You dragged your gym shirt over your head, tossing it aside, but the heat clinging to your skin didn’t dissipate. Your body still burned with something you refused to name, something that pulsed between your thighs with every replayed memory of his touch.

Your hand trailed up, fingers skimming over your sports bra and squeezing the swell of your breast. A small sigh escaped you as your other hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. The moment your fingers brushed against your clit, a soft gasp left your lips.

Your body was already so sensitive, so needy, and the more you teased yourself, the worse it got. Every stroke sent another wave of heat pooling in your belly, and in your mind, it wasn’t your own fingers—it was his.

You could almost hear him. That low, amused chuckle, the way his breath would fan against your ear as he murmured, "Look at you, already so desperate for me."

You kicked off your shorts and underwear, your movements impatient, your body aching for more. Reaching for a pillow, you slid it between your thighs, pressing down as you began to move, grinding against it, and each roll of your hips sending sharp pleasure through you.

Your back arched as you picked up the pace, riding the pillow as if it were his cock, panting softly as you clutched at your breasts, pinching your nipples. Your mind painted the image so vividly, Caleb beneath you, his hands gripping your hips, watching you fall apart on top of him.

"That’s it, baby. Just like that."

A needy whimper escaped your lips as you buried your face into the sheets, fingers tugging at your hardened nipples, pretending it was his mouth teasing you, his tongue flicking and sucking until you were squirming.

Meanwhile, across Skyhaven.

Caleb ran a towel through his damp hair as he stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around him. The gym session had gone even better than he planned. He could see it, the way your breath hitched, the way your body tensed under his hands. You were already slipping, already wavering. He also made a mental note about that bastard at your workplace, promising himself he’d handle him soon. But for now, he needed to clear his head.

With a sigh, he tossed the towel over his shoulder, water droplets rolling down his chest as he made his way through the penthouse. He hadn’t even planned on stopping by his office, just a quick glance at the screens, a habit more than anything.

But then he saw it.

His feet stilled at the doorway, his gaze locking onto the upper-right monitor. His office, lined with walls of screens, glowed softly in the dim lighting. Each feed displayed different angles of your apartment, and on one particular screen made his breath hitch.

There you were, back in your bedroom, stripped down, thighs straddling a pillow as you rocked against it, your brows furrowed in desperate pleasure.

Caleb's grip on the towel tightened, his body instantly reacting.

"Caleb…"

His restraint snapped.

His hand palmed over the towel, groaning low in his throat. Fuck. You were thinking about him. Even when he wasn’t touching you, even when he was taking his time, you still belonged to him.

Looks like he could skip Step 4. It was time for the final move.

final step: coaxing her back

You wanted to slap yourself. Who in their right mind gets off thinking about their ex?

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push the thought away, Caleb had begun to crawl into every corner of your mind. It was like a spell had been cast, wrapping around you and pulling you under.

The night had started with rain, thick sheets of it pouring down as you walked home, the soft patter against your umbrella the only sound accompanying you. You kicked at the puddles absently, trying to focus on anything other than the memories clawing their way back to the surface.

Then, headlights cut through the downpour. A sleek black Lamborghini Lanzador slowed beside you, its engine a deep and familiar purr. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Caleb behind the wheel—one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting against his temple as he watched you with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“You seriously weren’t going to call me for a ride?” His voice was warm and teasing.

You hesitated. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think,” he echoed, shaking his head before unlocking the door. “Get in before you drown, pipsqueak.”

You scowled, shutting your umbrella with a sharp snap before getting in. “I hate it when you call me that.”

He only smirked.

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you even finished buckling your seatbelt, Caleb pulled back onto the road. The rain drummed softly against the windows, the warmth inside the car doing little to ease the tension winding tight in your chest.

“Seriously, stop calling me that,” you muttered, arms crossed.

Caleb glanced at you, the corners of his lips twitching. “What? Pipsqueak?”

Your jaw clenched. “Yes, that.”

He chuckled, effortlessly changing gears. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because it’s condescending,” you shot back. “Like I’m some kid.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you’re a kid.”

“Then why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Because it gets under your skin,” he admitted without hesitation. “And because you make the cutest face when you’re annoyed.”

You glared. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but… you had nothing. He wasn’t wrong. You were here. Despite every reason you had to keep your distance, despite all the time and space and unspoken things lingering between you, you still got into his car.

Caleb must have sensed the shift in your silence because his smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, something almost hesitant.

“I mean it, though,” he said, his voice softer. “I don’t call you that to belittle you.”

You turned your head, studying his face, searching for the usual mischief—but there was none.

“Then why?” you asked, wary.

His fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel before he exhaled. “Because it reminds me of before.”

Your stomach twisted.

Before.

Your frustration boiled over, heat rising to your cheeks. Without thinking, you reached for the door handle, fingers wrapping around it with the full intention of getting out—moving car be damned.

Caleb’s sharp gaze flicked to you instantly. “Don’t even think about it.”

You shot him a look, jaw tight. “Then stop the car.”

He didn’t. Instead, he pressed a button on the console, and with a soft click, the doors locked. 

You froze, snapping your head toward him. “Are you serious?”

He exhaled through his nose, eyes back on the road. “Dead serious.”

Your jaw clenched. “Let me out.”

“Not when we’re going 60 on a wet road.”

You huffed, shifting in your seat, nails digging into your palms. “Unbelievable.”

Caleb sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence.

Then, instead of pulling up to your place, Caleb eased the car to a stop in front of a café. You blinked, frowning as you looked out the window. The familiar glow of the storefront sign illuminated the street, reflecting off the slick pavement.

Your fingers tightened around the door handle before you turned to him.

“Why are we here?”

Caleb leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “What do you mean?”

You shot him a look. “You picked me up in the rain. I thought you were taking me home.”

His smirk returned. “I was. Then I figured we could use a detour.”

“A detour?” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Caleb, it’s late. And I’m tired.”

His smirk didn’t waver, but something softened in his gaze. “I know. But it’s been a while since we did this.”

You hesitated. The café was familiar—your spot, our spot, once. You hadn’t been back since everything ended.

“You could’ve just taken me home,” you murmured.

“I could have,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But you would’ve shut the door in my face the second we got there.”

Your jaw tightened. “…You don’t know that.”

He arched his brow. “I do.”

You wanted to argue. You really did. But the truth of it settled uncomfortably in your chest. He did know you. Even after everything. And worse, you knew he was probably right.

Caleb studied you for a beat before his expression softened further. “The coffee’s on me,” he added lightly. “You can even get any pastry you like.”

The rain had softened to a steady drizzle by the time Caleb shut off the engine.

You stared at the café through the windshield, its warm glow spilling onto the wet pavement.

This was a mistake.

You should’ve said no. Should’ve insisted he take you home, unbuckled your seatbelt, and walked away without looking back.

Yet, you sat there, gripping your sleeve, hesitating.

Caleb sighed, then suddenly leaned over, reaching past you.

You tensed. “What are you—”

The click of your door unlocking cut you off, and before you could react, Caleb was stepping out into the rain. Your brows furrowed. Was he just going to walk around and open the door for you?

But then he lifted his hand.

The air around you shifted, and a barely visible barrier shimmered to life above the car. The rain that had been pouring relentlessly now slid off an invisible shield, leaving you completely untouched.

You blinked before scoffing. “Must be nice having an Evol.”

Caleb smirked, opening your door. “Jealous?”

“A little,” you admitted, stepping out carefully, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. “Would’ve saved me from carrying an umbrella everywhere.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Or from getting caught in the rain in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t comment. The sidewalk was slick, puddles reflecting the glow of streetlights. The air smelled like damp pavement and coffee, the warmth of the café just a few steps away.

When you guys reached the entrance, Caleb lowered his hand, and the shield dissolved like it had never been there. He pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside.

You hesitated for only a second before walking past him, the scent of coffee and nostalgia wrapping around you like a ghost.

 “Guess not much has changed.”

Your throat tightened. “No.”

The barista, Lily, behind the counter, looked up, recognition flashing across her face. She hadn’t seen you in months—not since everything ended—but she still remembered.

“Hey,” she greeted with a small smile. “It’s been a while.”

Caleb smirked. “Yeah. Thought I’d bring her back.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist, but you ignored it, turning your attention to the menu overhead, as if you didn’t already know what you wanted.

Caleb leaned in slightly. “Still take it the same way?”

You shot him a look. “Why do you care?”

His lips twitched. “Humor me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah.”

Caleb turned to the barista. “Two of those, and she’ll also take…” He looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “A blueberry scone.”

He smirked. “She’ll take a blueberry scone.”

The barista rang up the order, and before you could reach for your wallet, Caleb was already sliding his card into the reader.

You narrowed your eyes. “I could’ve paid.”

“I know.” He grabbed the receipt. “But I said it was on me.”

You huffed but didn’t push further, taking the coffee when he handed it to you.

The café wasn’t crowded, just a few people scattered at tables, lost in their own conversations. It would’ve been so easy to pretend this was just another night, just another casual outing��

But it wasn’t.

Caleb nudged your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. “Come on.”

He led you to a table in the corner. Your table.

The moment you sat down, an uneasy weight settled in your chest. You traced the rim of your coffee cup, the steam curling between you. Across from you, Caleb leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lazily against the table.

“You’re quiet,” he noted.

You met his gaze. “I have nothing to say.”

His lips twitched. “That’s a first.”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth ground you. But it didn’t stop the thoughts circling your mind.

Why did he bring you here?

Why now?

Why does it still feel easy with him?

“You’re thinking too much.”

Your fingers stilled around your coffee cup. “And you’re still assuming you know what I’m thinking.”

He smirked. “I don’t assume. I know.”

You scoffed, leaning back against your chair. “Enlighten me, then.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you the way he always had—like he was peeling back layers, reading between every breath, every hesitation. “You’re trying to figure out why we’re here. Why I didn’t just take you home.”

Your grip on the cup tightened.

Caleb took a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You exhaled sharply, placing your cup down a little too firmly. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sit there all smug like you still know me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Do I not?”

You hesitated.

He was baiting you, as he always did. And the worst part? He was right. He did know you. Knew you well enough to bring you here, to order your drink exactly the way you liked it, to pick up on your hesitation before you even voiced it.

And yet, that only frustrated you more.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “You should’ve just taken me home.”

Caleb hummed, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down. “I know.” He leaned back, eyes never leaving yours. “But I wanted to talk to you first.”

Your stomach twisted.

There it was.

The thing you had been waiting for—the reason you were here.

You swallowed. “About what?”

His gaze softened just slightly, the amusement in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

“You.” His voice was steady, deliberate. “Me.”

Your fingers curled around your cup. Careful.

Caleb didn’t look away. “Whatever this is—whatever it’s always been.”

Your breath hitched. You let out a quiet scoff, breaking eye contact. “There’s nothing anymore.”

He was silent for a moment, just watching you. Then, as if weighing his words, he exhaled. “Do you really believe that?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“I have to,” you finally said, voice quieter now.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Then why are you here?”

You stiffened. “You brought me here.”

He shook his head once. “You could’ve said no.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”

His lips curved slightly, though there was no amusement behind them. “You always have a choice.”

The weight of his words settled between you, thick and suffocating. The café buzzed with quiet chatter around you, but none of it reached your ears.

Finally, you inhaled sharply. “What do you want from me, Caleb?”

His fingers tapped absently against his cup as if considering his answer. But when he finally spoke, it was quiet. Certain.

“I want you to come back.”

Your breath stalled.

A dry laugh escaped you. “Back? Back to what, exactly?”

He didn’t hesitate. “To me.”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “You can’t just say that like it’s simple.”

“I never said it was simple,” he admitted. “But it’s the truth.”

You looked away, pulse hammering in your throat. “It’s too late.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Is it?”

You hated the way he said it—like he already knew the answer. Like he could see right through every flimsy excuse you were trying to hold onto.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. “You don’t get to show up and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

His voice was steady. “That’s not what I expect.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Then what do you expect?”

A pause.

“I expect you to be honest with yourself.”

You hated the way your stomach twisted at his words. The way something deep inside you lurched forward despite every wall you had built.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “This is a mistake.”

Caleb held your gaze. “Maybe. But it’s ours to make.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel it—the pull, the weight of something inevitable pressing down on you. Every logical part of you screamed to shut this down.

But it was already too late, wasn’t it?

Your grip on the cup loosened, your resolve crumbling piece by piece. Then, finally, exhaustedly, you sighed.

“…Fine.”

Caleb didn’t rush it.

He let the silence settle, let the weight of your surrender sink in. The moment you said “Fine,” he knew it was over—you had already lost, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

Leaning back in his chair, he took his time, watching you with that same knowing look, fingers drumming lazily against his coffee cup. You were trying so hard to act unaffected, eyes locked on the table, but your grip on the ceramic was tense.

You were waiting—for what, exactly? The regret? The anger? The second thoughts?

None of it came.

Caleb exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. You always made this harder than it needed to be.

Without another word, he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping softly against the floor. Your shoulders tensed as he stood, rounding the table with slow, deliberate steps.

Not stopping. Not hesitating.

He moved in, closing the space between you, his presence overwhelming as he braced one hand on the back of your chair, the other resting against the table. His body caged you in, shielding you from the rest of the café, from the world beyond this moment.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

Trapped.

His scent washed over you, pulling you under like a riptide. The heat of him, the sheer certainty in his movements, sent your pulse into chaos.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“That you’re staying.”

You swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at you to push him away. To fight.

But you didn’t.

Your lips parted, barely forming his name. “Caleb—”

That was all he needed.

His fingers brushed along your jaw before tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was slow and deliberate, but there was nothing soft about it. His grip was firm, possessive.

Like he was claiming you.

“You don’t regret this,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper, right before his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful.

It was deep, demanding—a possession.

Caleb kissed you like he was proving something, like he was erasing every ounce of distance you had tried to put between you. His lips moved against yours with precision, drawing you in and breaking down every last barrier you had left.

Then his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing, teasing, taking.

The taste of coffee and something purely him flooded your senses, dizzying and intoxicating. He was relentless, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, drawing out a soft gasp that he swallowed like he owned it.

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you feel it to remind you that there was no escaping this, no running from him or this pull.

And you—God, you kissed him back.

It was your undoing.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, gripping it tight, like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The café, the hushed conversations, the rest of the world—gone.

There was no fight left in you. No walls.

Only him. Only Caleb.

When he finally pulled back, lips barely brushing against yours, his breath was uneven, his voice thick with something raw, unspoken.

“Knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips parted, breath stolen.

And then he saw it.

That flicker in your expression—not defiance, not reluctance.

Surrender.

Your grip on his hoodie loosened slightly, but you didn’t push him away. Your lashes fluttered, your gaze flickering to his lips for just a second too long, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Caleb’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. His thumb traced along your jaw, a silent I won.

Because he had.

Checkmate.

[luvmanifesting]

PURE CONSCIOUSNESS 101

what exactly IS pure consciousness? well its a state of consciousness where you’re detached from the 3D and mainly aware of the 4D. your 4D is anything that is within you. (imagination, inner conversations, playing a song in your head..etc etc) THAT is your 4D, you can induce pure consciousness at any time of the day and absolutely anywhere. most people prefer to induce pure consciousness at night because thats when the body becomes more relaxed in preparation for sleep. you can always set the intention to wake up in pure consciousness, fall asleep and then lucid dream and THEN induce pure consciousness or sleep paralysis (i don’t really recommend sleep paralysis) but hey, do what makes you comfortable. you may think that its too good to be true but its not, everyone has the ability to induce pure consciousness because its simply a meditative process. the traditional way people induce pure consciousness on TUMBLR is usually by closing your eyes and repeating the phrases “I AM” or “I am in the void state” or “i am pure consciousness” it doesn’t matter what affirmation you use just as long as its the intention of inducing it. you cannot fail this because it is impossible. news flash.. you induce pure consciousness as soon as you fall asleep every night.

you cannot force pure consciousness thats a thing most of you guys do, you wanna rush because you desperately wanna show your haters wrong. stop that, you don’t force yourself to sleep right? you don’t force yourself to breathe.. so stop trying to force pure consciousness. that will only keep you in the awake state. (awake state being you reading this right now and everything you see around you).

whats also common when people wanna induce pure consciousness is they wonder when they’ll start getting symptoms (floaty feeling, tingling, senses going out) etc, guys that’s simply just your brain checking to see if you’re awake, one of the reasons you “tap out” of pure consciousness was because you placed your awareness back on your body. as soon as your senses go out then you’re there. theres no “but i got floaty feelings and then i affirmed and i got nothing” well then you were not pure consciousness. and then theres your fear that comes into play whenever inducing pure consciousness.

you’re scared of failing, (you literally can’t fail a mediative state this isn’t rocket science) you’re panicking because you swore to yourself you would induce pure consciousness over the break and live your dream life and then you didn’t. *loud heavy sigh* you can’t fail this guys, its okay to be worried but this isn’t something that just can never not work for you.

now lets see pure consciousness from a law of an assumption pov, as we all know our best friend is law of assumption, works instantly and effectively. all you have to do is assume. “well ayami how do i assume?”. my response would be that the sky is glittery with magical rainbows. you would reply with “no its not” i would reply “yes it is” 1 second later the sky is glittery and has magical rainbows. why? because it was my assumption. i didn’t need any stupid proof, it was my assumption so it had no choice to happen. now if you told me “ugh im such a master at inducing pure consciousness” and i said “no you aren’t” you are NOT going to say “oh you’re right im not” YOU ARE GOING TO SAY “um what’re you talking about yes i am? you’re just jealous i can induce it instantly and effortlessly”. okay now bam you can instantly and effortlessly induce pure consciousness whenever you want because thats your assumption and you stood firm to it no matter what was said or shown to you. starting NOW you will assume that you’re a master at inducing pure consciousness and you will stand firm in that state no matter what the hell is shown.

now go induce pure consciousness.

[vaaaaaiolet]

Leon's no stickler for wedding traditions. But when no something blue has you feeling blue, he might just have a fix.

f / m fluff and cuteness before you walk down the aisle. leon is a sweetheart. one or two bad puns. you're a lil anxious but that's okay!! ft. your beloved's neck trauma </3

word count: 888 // read on ao3 // drabble masterlist

a/n: for zo from this ask. i got asked about what a wedding between leon and reader in my agent au might look like and this is SO BAD I'M SORRY. I WROTE THIS AT 1 AM WITH CLASS AT 7 THE NEXT DAY. posted on ao3 first bc i was too sleepy to make the tumblr banner 🤧 *gestures vaguely hoping you still like it*

“One peek. For half a second.”

“It’s bad luck.”

“Since when have you cared about being lucky? You’ve never needed luck to land a bullet.”

Shoulder pressed to your dressing room’s door, laughter flutters in your chest. “You don’t get it. It’s the principle.”

“What kind of fuckass principle-”

“Leon!”

“-gets to tell me I can’t see my wife?” 

“Soon-to-be,” you smile, picking at the white lace of your bodice. 

“Oh man.” You practically hear your still-fiancé’s fingers fly up to pinch the bridge his nose. “Sweetheart, you should’ve told me you were such a goody-two shoes before I put that ring on your finger.”

“You didn’t get the memo after I’ve been landing you in hot water with Hunnigan for three years now?”

Leon’s palms clap dejectedly against the door. Half-surrender, half-plea.

“For the millionth time, go away,” you giggle. You lean your back against the door. Imagine him doing the same when the wood paneling seems to press back. Breathe for a beat too many before saying, “You’ll see me in a bit, I just…I need the luck for today to be perfect.”

You think you’ve finally won when he goes silent. For a second, anyway.

“So that’s what it is.”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?” Leon asks quietly.

“What girl isn’t nervous on their wedding day?” you whisper back.

“Does it have to be? What if our wedding isn’t perfect?”

Talk about a surefire way to spike a bride’s heart rate. You frantically check your reflection in the vanity mirror. Clutch your bouquet tighter lest it fall fantastically apart at his words. 

“See, this is why you’re not supposed to be here,” you hiss at the door, “now I’m panicking!”

One last roll call. You’re sure you’ve planned for everything. Your something old: your mother’s wedding veil. Something new, the diamonds on your neck. Something borrowed: the roses you’ll carry to the altar, gathered from your maid of honor’s garden that you’ll make sure to toss back. Something blue…

“Shit!” you cry out. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my something blue, Leon, I can’t walk without it!”

“You’re sure?”

Of course you’re sure. It’s Wedding 101, the one rule you can’t break. Everything you’ve been through with the man on the other side of the door has led up to this moment. Your jobs never allowed you the privilege of making mountains out of molehills, but today? This is the moment you’d been promised would be perfect – in spite of the endless trials and tribulations the universe seemed intent on imposing on the both of you. 

Sleepless nights. Far-flung disappearances. Knives at your throats. Knives at each other’s throats that one time with the parasites. Thanklessly saving the world from the brink of disaster only to have each other to lean on at the end of the day. Over and over, falling in love with the only person who understands the fatal mistake of taking normalcy for granted. 

Just once, you wished you could have it like everybody else waiting for you to walk down the aisle. 

“Open the door, sweetheart.”

Your voice cracks. The no doesn’t come out like it should. 

A muffled swish of fabric sounds from the other side, and Leon repeats himself, tacking on a soft please this time. “Do you trust me?”

Nobody more than him.

“Just stick out your leg,” he murmurs. “I won’t look.”

An odd request. You crack open the door. Hesitantly step out your right foot. 

“Little more, please.”

If you’re not mistaken, the faintest of sighs sounds the moment you do. Leon presumably drops to his knees at the muffled thud of carpet that ensues, and it’s suddenly your turn to gasp. He’s reaching up your dress, fingers skirting over your leg, along your thigh-

“What are you doing?” you squeak, gripping the doorframe.

“Not that I’m into the garter thing, it’s kinda gross, actually – phew, you’re not wearing your holster – but maybe this will work.”

Smooth, silky fabric encircles your thigh in seconds. 

“Too tight?”

“Mm-mm…”

He chuckles softly and ducks out, taking care to fix your skirts as if nothing ever happened, looking decidedly the other way the whole time. You pull your foot back into the safety of your dressing room and bunch up your dress in confusion to find-

A navy bow tie wrapped around your upper thigh.

“How’s that?” Leon ventures hopefully.

It’s something. It’s blue. You relay this to him, disbelief eventually bubbling into laughter. 

“But now you don’t have a bow tie, stupid!”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get rid of it? You know how much I-”

“-hate things around your neck.”

“Right?” The exasperation in his voice makes you giggle. “And they wouldn’t listen when I told them, baby. I told you, I’m hopeless without you.” 

Leon’s hand reaches out on a mission to find yours, one that it fulfils, complete with a kiss on your knuckles. A mission with ulterior motives; you pretend not to see the flash of something blue that glances up at you. The blue you can’t wait to wake up to for the rest of your life.  

“Perfect wedding or not, I just wanna marry you. Don’t you?”

You don’t save the I do for the altar.

What’s one more imperfect tradition?

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[satorupi]

new to posting on tumblr, but currently thinking ab innocentgf!reader asking experiencedbf!satoru how to give him a handjob?? hear me out hear me out

you're still not quite sure what on earth brought on the urge to ask the question.

scratch that, you actually are sure -- you'd been dating satoru for over a year and some at this point (almost two) and the furthest you'd gone were heavy make out sessions and nothing more.

it's not like you don't want to do stuff with him, because of course you do. he's your boyfriend. he's kind, great on the eyes, so sweet to you. of course you want to do more than just kiss him.

you've been dating long enough and the trust is mutual...but the idea of being that intimate just feels so unreasonably embarrassing. it's so hard to get out your own head.

steam billows out the shower satoru currently occupies, swirling near your feet, a thin fog that leaves surfaces damp in the lightest bit of condensation. the words feel lodged in your throat, already flushing at the faintest outline of his naked body through the partially frosted glass.

if you're already embarrassed at the prospect of seeing him naked, how would you even ask the question?

it takes everything in you not to retreat, really. your pacing outside the bathroom for 5 minutes before you'd worked up the courage to come inside couldn't be taken for granted.

why chicken out now when you're already in here?? you'd practiced this, it wasn't a big deal.

"satoru?"

"baby?" he responds over the sound of the water, glancing backwards like he'd be able to see you through the glass. "something wrong?"

"no. no, I just uh..." your fingers toy at the edges of your shorts, rocking on your heels, "I wanted to ask you something."

"oh?" you can see his hands slow in his hair before starting back up, "well, i'll be out in a minute so-

"no!" the words come out in a rush, high enough to embarrass you. your hands squeeze at your sides, working up the needed courage to keep from retreating, "I mean, I should probably ask you now. kind of important."

there's a pause, only the steady hiss of the shower filling the damp air.

"...alright then," he said, a little slower this time. "what's up?"

the words come out one big breathless, a too loud tumble before you can regret it. the way they always did when you got nervous. "how do you...how do I, you know, give you a handjob?"

your body flares hot with panic with the clearly startled noise that leaves him, molten hot in the cheeks, already spinning on your heel to bolt. "never mind!" "wait-- babe! don't run-- shit, ow!" you're already slamming the door behind you and making a beeline to the bedroom. then a beat and a half, muffled from the distance,

"wait! i've got soap in my eyes!!"

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

the bedroom door slams behind you with a solid thud, throwing yourself into the bed and yanking the covers over your head like it would stave off the mortification. great, just great. you should've chickened out like you wanted to. dating the most effortlessly perfect man alive and you'd just propositioned...whatever that was. sex 101?

the bathroom door flying open and hitting the wall is noisy even with all the distance. "babe! where'd you go?"

maybe if you stay really, really still he might think you'd left. maybe you could just play dead, actually.

it's mostly silent, sound of your heart throbbing in your ears louder than anything else.

...then the bedroom door flies open, frame rattling on its hinges. "did I hear you wrong?" and he sounds so bewildered that part of you feels bad. "are you seriously hiding?" that part at least sounds humor filled. oh, so he thinks this is funny? there's the wet slap of his feet against the hardwood, getting closer and closer to you till the part of the mattress near your head dips with his weight. "..you embarrassed? is that it?"

you bury your face deeper in the sheets, teary with just how hot your face was getting, a pathetic little whimper being your answer. of course you were embarrassed, who wouldn't be?

"you're okay." satoru wonders if you know how cute he finds this all. his hand finds your head over the sheet keeping you hidden, smoothing his hand up and down just to soothe you. you drop a bomb like that then run away from him while he's incapacitated? how evil. how cute. "you were asking how to make me feel good, right? you can talk to me."

your nod is weak under the covers, mortification easing up with all his reassurance.

"come on out, sweetheart." he murmured, tugging lightly at the blanket. "c'mere. lemme see you."

maybe if he wasn't being the absolutely sweetest you'd put up more of a fight...but since he is, your head pushes free from under the cover, peeking out just enough to see him. your eyes find his face before anything else. crystal blues turned stormy, hair still partially sudsy w/ shampoo, a mess of strands sticking up in different directions.

and then?

then your eyes drop, you're not sure how you hadn't locked on that first because his towel is all low on his hips like he'd haphazardly wrapped it around himself, a very clear, thick imprint straining against the white cotton.

oh.

"didn't get to wash my hair out properly.." the words break you out your momentary stupor, now glossy gaze lifting to eye him again, blinking slowly. as if you care about his half washed hair right now.

"you wanted to learn right?" his hand still strokes the back of your head gently and you nod, fighting the innate urge to glance down again. to get your first proper look. you'd felt it when your kissing got too heated sometimes but never...not this. "i'll show you then."

and that's how you end up on your knees between your boyfriend's parted thighs. the pillow under the pair had been his idea to keep your knees from rubbing against the carpet, hands on your lap idly picking at nonexistent lint.

and satoru...well, satoru's still on the bed, of course. on the bed with his dick in his hand.

minor detail.

the towel's parted and resting on either side of him, cock hard and heavy in his hand as he grips the base, pearly droplet leaking from the tip.

from 'just kissing' to seeing him stroking himself while you watch -- what a jump.

you can count how many times you'd had to look away since you two had gotten in this predicament and it'd only been 2 minutes at best.

"no looking away." he murmurs, voice low, coaxing. wrecked already just from the heat of your gaze. "you wanted to learn, baby. so you need to watch."

his free hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing along the bone before it's sliding down to cup your jaw. he tilts your face just enough so that you're watching, eyes instinctively dropping to his dick again.

the rush of wetness in your panties makes you twitch, unable to look away now that you seemingly had no choice. "good fuckin' girl. eyes on me." you barely register the little rush of air that leaves your lungs with his first upwards pump, stuck on his only shaky sigh, hand squeezing your jaw gently.

"feels good," he says, breath hitching when he strokes down and back up again, thumb swiping lazily over the slit. "s'much better with you watching. you're so pretty down there." satoru strokes himself from base to tip, letting his cock slip heavy through his fist. his head tips back just a little, exhale shaky with the effort of keeping his pace slow to demonstrate this properly for you. in all honestly, he felt embarrassingly close. didn't peg himself as some sort of exhibitionist, but, the more you know.

"not...not too tight, and then you can twist jus' like this.." and he does exactly that, breathing out a curse as he works himself lazily. his thumb smears precum over the sensitive tip, aching to be touched properly -- by you instead of himself. his gaze drops back down to you, watching you as you watch him. all curious, thighs squeezed a little tight, lip caught between your teeth. "you can touch it too."

you're not even embarrassed at how eager your nod comes, letting him lead your hand up to wrap around his cock where he's thickest in a tentative hold. it's silky and warm against your skin, heat pulsing between your thighs. your stomach curls at his groan at your curious squeeze, swallowing lightly.

"easy now.." he doesn't let you know that it'd been slightly too tight, he just wraps his hand around yours to ease your hold, stroking your hand with his own. once, twice. very carefully. "doing so good, baby. just like that."

okay, you could do this. it's just a dick. a dick wouldn't bite you. not his at least.

a little emboldened by his praise, you shift a little higher to get closer to him, hand lifting from your lap to ease his off yours, now doing the job all on your own. firm even strokes, slow enough to feel the throb of his veins and his dick jumping in your hand. it's a slick slide with all the messy precum he'd smeared, hand doing the twists he'd done on his own, eyes up on him.

if his head being tipped back meant anything, you'd say you were doing a fine job. "is it good, 'toru?" the brush of your thumb over his tip is a little clumsy compared to how he did it, but his hips buck anyway, moan warming your body. your stare is full of fascination at the deeper flush of the head, how another hot little spurt drools out just from your touch to coat your thumb.

"y-yeah. oh god, yes. it's so good." his breath punches out his throat in a gasp, jaw falling open. "keep doing that."

you're almost desperate to keep it feeling good for him, to make him feel even better. your hand pulls along his cock in perfect little pumps, riding the high of all the previous praise, drinking in all his sounds. the twitch of his hips, the silent calls of your names, him asking for more. you're properly getting drunk on it, riffling through your thoughts to find more ways to drive him crazy.

your mind mostly draws a blank save for one idea, not second guessing as you shift closer to lean in. the side of his shaft is far softer against the wetness of your tongue as you drag the appendage along the rosy pink flesh.

the reaction is almost instant, tongue not even making it all the way up. his jerk in answer makes you rear back completely, eyes wide as your hand quickly releases him.

you freeze, horrified at the look on his face. his panting. oh god, he'd hated it. surely. "sorry! sorry, did I do it wrong?! I thought it-" "no! fuck no, it wasn't wrong. holy shit--" he rasps, lips twitching up into a grin, laugh bursting out of him. wrong? how could it be wrong if his orgasm near raced up on him with the simple press of your tongue? "where the hell did you learn that?"

you blink up at him, all sweet and pretty, rubbing your lips together to savor the taste of him. "a video! the lady did the same thing."

he laughs again, all amused and carefree like your hand hadn't just been wrapped around his cock, like you hadn't just embarrassed yourself. "a video. you watched a video on this?"

you nod like it's the most obvious thing, "I wanted t'learn how to do it."

he can't fathom that you'd seek out porn to figure out how to touch him well. "fuck, you're so perfect."

his hand eases yours back upward, kissing your knuckles to assure you that no, you licking his dick had not at all turned him off or anything remotely similar. that has you more than willing to start back up again, more confident in your strokes this time. still a little clumsy, it's inevitable with your inexperience.

you know what he likes now, at least partially -- so you're in his space again, mouthing the side of his cock, tongue dragging along wet, hot flesh just as you'd seen. trying to remember parts of the video you'd been to embarrassed to even finish.

the pump of your smaller hand on him sticks to near the tip, lost in his noises as you kiss and lick near the base, nosing at his flesh. he always smelt so good but that freshly showered scent mixed with that of his flesh this close has your mind all foggy. your thighs squeeze together tighter to ease the building ache, panting warmly against the side of his cock, stroking a little firmer.

"god, you're a natural. please keep doing that." if the twitching in your hand was a clue, it'd lead you right to the conclusion that he was close. about to cum for you. your head lifts to look at him, lashes fluttering lips parted as you eyes him in awe. "so pretty--haah--love you, please."

you make proper use of both your hands, stacked one on the other to stroke and twist. it's that same pattern again and again, fingers coated in slick that smears down his cock over and over. "I-I know. I know it feels good." his sounds rise, hips bucking into the touch of your hands, one hand cupping the back of your head. "love you too. are you close?" "yeah, gonna cum...gonna--oh fuck." you barely know what the fuck you're doing but instinct had yet to fail you, his reaction proof enough. head tipped back, his helpless groans. all because of you -- you can't get enough of it. the shaft is occupied by eager hands with your stroking, head left too neglected for your comfort so you at least attempt to use your mouth there like before. no different than how you'd been kissing him and licking earlier. you barely get to wrap your lips around him really. it's nothing more than a wet kiss, a little lick at the tip. hands squeezing between firm strokes, mouthing where he's weeping for you. "babe- baby," he shakes his head, eyes rolling, delirious, "wait, don't. i'm gonna--" he'd tried to warn you, really, but he falls apart just like that. snaps like a livewire, pulsing in your hand as his hips buck, wrecked sound tearing out of him. the hand at the back of your head tangles in your hair, you barely have time to lean back as he falls apart. cum streaks all hot and messy ropes across your lower face and your hands, enough to make you choke on a gasp. on your cheek, the corner of your mouth. a little catches on your jaw.

you freeze up, hands slowing their stroking to a stop, quivering at how filthy it is. how hot it is. god. and you can't look away from him, not for a second. his stomach flexes, cock twitching with the remnants of cum emptying from his balls, dribbling down the length of him.

"woah."

the prospect of making him cum has arousal washing you so intensely that you have to close your eyes for a bit to get a hold on yourself, whimpering before you can hold it in.

your panties are properly soaked, clinging to you with how turned on you are, thighs squeezing together instinctively. doesn't help at all, unfortunately.

"holy shit." he finally gets out, still breathing heavily from his orgasm and the fog it left behind, hand loosening in your hair and sliding to cup your cheek.

the dampness against his fingers has him glancing down at you, matching the bewildered look on your face. "oh shit--" and it comes out like two octaves higher, it's almost laughable. all he gets is a surprised huff in your daze.

his hand flies out to clean the mess he'd left on your face, only smearing it on your face a little more. he hates the traitorous way his cock throbs again like he isn't panicking a little internally. this was out your comfort zone already now he'd gone and came on your face? "i'm sorry, pretty. thought i'd have time to warn you-"

your hands still hold his softening cock, too stunned to even give him a proper reply. "didn't mean to-- i'll clean it up, you don't even need'ta touch it."

maybe it's the surprise that has you not flustered from this? you're not sure, all his finishing on your face had done was gotten you wet.

you don't really think about what you're doing, looking at him through your lashes from down below, curious tongue poking to the side to taste some of what had landed.

sweeter than you'd expected, a salty tang on your tastebuds. maybe you should've just let him do it in your mouth? "tastes good though.." you murmur, rubbing your lips together, shifting on your knees. his rambling stops after that one comment, gaping down at you, red rising up his face, tips of his airs flushing with color too. mouth opening, then closing again uselessly. looking like he's 2 seconds from cumming again.

then he whines, whines like you'd struck him, flopping backward onto the bed as you blink up at him in confusion.

"babe?" your hands pull off from where they're holding him, placing your damp palms on your thighs as your mind races. "did I say something bad?"

bad? if bad meant perfect, maybe. if bad meant...meant absolutely soul crushing, spirit healing, spectacular--

"no." he croaks, shaking his head, cock already stirring. how do you not get what you're doing to him here. "no, you're perfect. nothing's wrong."

satoru sits up so he can look at you again, heart throbbing at your confusion. the little crease between your brow, the slick remnants of him glistening on your skin. god, he's so in love with you that it hurts.

large hands grab at you without warning, tugging you up into his very naked lap to straddle him, frantic kisses pressed to your cheeks. fully uncaring of the mess on your skin. "nothing wrong. you did everything right. fuckin--'" he smacks a kiss to your mouth, hands cradling your face, "soo perfect. perfect, pretty baby."

the laugh that leaves you is breathless, letting him dote on your for whatever reason, arms banding around the back of his neck as soon as you get a chance, knees on either side of him. gentle fingers take their time to wipe your face clean, transferring the mess collected on his thumb to his towel, kissing you here and there. "so messy."

it all makes you feel ridiculously shy more than ever, slapping at his chest, own fingers fixing the mess on his head. "need to get you back in the shower to wash this out properly." you still can't believe he'd been in such a hurry to follow you that he'd left his hair half washed.

his laugh has him shifting under you a little and it's a pain trying not to move. an even bigger pain trying to not acknowledge the heat low and building in your belly. if it was bad when you were knelt on the floor being handsy with his cock, this is 100 times worse.

the air between you two is unsettled as is even if you'd been joking since he'd gotten you in his lap. you swallow gently, smiling down at him. dipping to give him another kiss. "I should probably go wash my face...or something. I think"

you're trying, you really are -- but it's so hard not to move. so you do, a tiny forward tilt of your hips that makes your core heat, toes curling in your socks. subtle but he notices, mouth tipping at one side. "not too much shifting. I'll probably get worked up again."

your nose scrunches up, leaning into him to hide your face in his neck like that would help in playing it off. "just getting comfy." satoru hums, hands lowering to your waist to ease you properly on his lap. no expectations of anything at all, just making sure you're steady, pressing a kiss to your temple.

he doesn't mind all your shifting, not really -- but they aren't doing him much favors. he figures you're just restless after earlier, still shy about the intimacy of it all. "you're fine. we can stay like this as long as you want."

it would be great if it was just that but the throb is almost uncomfortable, only moving on his lap seeming to help. you can’t help the way you tuck your face tighter against his neck, breathing him in--clean, soapy, warm. even his scent has your cunt throbbing hard. "sorry. just...trying'ta.."

satoru isn't dense, he knows you're turned on by now. shifting to seat yourself better didn't feel the same as deliberately rubbing yourself on his cock through your shorts. he knows. but he stays where he is, lets you snuggle up into him, careful not to push too fast. even when you roll forward more deliberately this time as though testing how it feels he's careful not to react, just squeezing your hips lightly. "you're good, go ahead."

you’re not doing anything wrong. you’re just so sweet and worked up, trying so hard to stay still that it has his mind reeling.

you swallow hard, fingers pressing into his skin, whimpering softly as you rock forward.

yeah, he can't exactly leave you to your own devices when you clearly need something. "what's wrong, hm?"

he pulls back to look at you, heart near stopping at the glossiness of your eyes, the clear strain in your expression. still rocking your hips like you can't help yourself. "satoru," you whimper softly, eyes closing, shaking your head, "'nothing, but.." you're hot all over and your cunt refuses to stop pulsing even as you're grinding on him -- so turned on that you could cry. "it's not working." your hips rock forward again, the hardened line of him creating perfect fiction against your clit that only leaves you more desperate, drawing a low groan out of him. "I know, I know. you're okay--" his hands squeeze at your hips, drawing soothing circles over the fabric of your shorts. focused on keeping you settled and staying calm himself even as his cock stirs back to life under your clothed cunt. "just worked yourself up a little, 's all."

you duck your head again, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “i dunno,” you whisper. “just…feels good. wanna keep--" your voice cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut. "just want you to help me."

you swear his breathing stops too with how quiet it goes, keeping your face in his neck to hide your embarrassment. afraid you'd said something wrong.

"or..or not. I can just get--"

"--are...shit--are you sure?" he interjects, voice a little strained, hand coming up to cup the back of your head. you're already worked up as is, the last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you when you two had never gone this far before. "we totally don't have to--"

"--I want to." your head lifts out his neck, hips still rutting gently, lips parted. the sensations have you focused just on how thick and hard he is under you, how much your cunt is throbbing. "I want you to help me. please."

he doesn't think any other words are as devastating as those. "yeah. yeah, of course." he whispers, hands sliding up your hips, then higher to squeeze your waist. getting high enough to cup your face to kiss you again, keeping a slow pace. "gonna make you feel so good."

well, a second lesson wouldn't hurt.

sena's note: slept on it and it sounded okay on a fresh mind so here we are 🤧

desktop optimized, did it in dark mode but MIGHT look better in light mode bc of the red hues ‹𝟹

>> pt 2

[dating-eveeything]

HIHI!! Could I pretty please have a GN!Reader x Hector one-shot?? Hector decides to set up an at home date with the help of the fellow datables? He read about it through his "How to get a Date 101" book trust me on this.

First date, kinda nervous

Summary: Some objects are fed up with Hector's yearning and take fate into their own hands (read: Sophia drags everyone into hooking Hector UP)

Featuring: Hector, Sophia, Parker, Mitchell Lin

Fic type: fluff, accidental confession, cutesy date once Sophia and Mitchell are out of the picture.

Language warning, possible suggestive comments, they/them pronouns used for reader, no Y/N use, might be ooc for him! I haven't read up much on his character yet

"You absolutely coward!" She yells out, towering over Hector with a demeaning aura. Her presence made all objects quiver and he certainly wasn't an exception. "What-why are you talking to me like this!" Hector cried out, cowering behind Parker who was probably on something at moment.

Sophia groans in frustration before turning around, her hand coming up to push on her temples as you would to get rid of an oncoming headache. "You!" She huffs out once more, "I'm sick and tired of your- your-" her stuttering words and raised tone made Hector want to go back to his air vents "Your yearning!!" Sophia finally lets out. She turns around and points accusingly at him.

Her accusation was right, Hector was a total yearner and any object that saw him could tell. If you were in the room he was in the room too, well, in the vents more like.

Parker laughed after Sophia turned around to point at Hector, who was still hiding behind him. "Dude! She's absolutely right!" He chuckles to himself, turning around to leave Hector out in the open. "You're totally in love with them, why don't you do something? If the dice roll on hearts you can't deny~!" He almost sings the last part, dragging on the last note.

"But!" Hector cries out, not even knowing what to say, he starts word vomiting and stuttering out filler words. "Shut up!" Sophia yells out, stomping her heel onto the ground and getting both boys in front of her to listen to her orders. "I'm sick of you, sick of having to listen to you weirdly talk about them to yourself! There's only one way to solve this problem of ours." She crosses her arms, leaning to one side and staring daggers into Hector. He could feel her judgement.

There's a tense pause, Hector trying to avoid how aggressively Sophia was staring at him. "Man," Parker spoke up, looking from Hector to Sophia "even I'm scared to know."

Sophia smirks, though it's even more intimidating than when she's frowning. "You're going on a date with them."

Everything stills.

"EXCUSE ME?!" Hector yelled, his hands raised to his head and he started stressing- pacing around the room, practically circling Parker by accident. "I can't! You! I don't know anything about dates!" He cries out, crouching down and covering his head like the roof was crashing down on him.

"Well then it's a good thing I do" she praises herself, resting her hand on her chest and smiling like she was the best object to ever exist. "I've employed the help of a friend, this date will not go wrong under my watchful eye." She walks over to grab Hector by the back of his outfit and swiftly starts dragging him to the hatch leading to the second floor. "Wh-wait! I never said I'd do this!" He cries while being dragged away.

Parker stares at door before shrugging and sitting down, humming to himself as he sets up his chess board.

Sophia and Mitchell Lin watch from behind the wooden boxes that sat nearby, watching as Hector sat on the makeshift picnic blanket (provided by Mateo) and went over lines that were fed to him by the two. The lines were nothing if not full of sexual innuendos and confidence, Hector didn't have enough of the second one to make them really work; he kept stuttering over them as he practiced to remember them.

He quickly shut up and stared at the entrance with fear as everyone heard the stairs creak, someone was coming up and all three knew who it would be. The door opened and you walked in, as expected. "Oh, hey Hector..." You wave at him, looking around the room "Sophia told me to come here, any clue why?" Seeing as she wasn't there, you go and take a seat on the cloth he was sitting on, smiling at him.

"Are- are you a..." Hector mumbled, staring at Sophia from behind the boxes as she tried to coach him into remembering/saying the introduction line. "No I haven't seen her" he relents, turning away to avoid Sophia's angry face. You let out a hum and move to sit closer to him.

"That's alright, maybe I'm just early." You shrug, leaning against the wall and cross your legs. "Good thing you're here though!" Hector stares at you, swallowing his fear to ask "Why is that?" To which you happily respond with "You make great company! Much better than a few objects I can think of."

Your comment flusters him and makes him feel like he might burst into flames, the temperature was definitely a few degrees hotter than it was a few seconds ago. "And I wanted to talk to you..." You quiet down, suddenly trying to avoid looking at him.

"Talk to.. me? About what?" He mutters, fiddling with his hands and the blanket to try and relax him. "Well.. You see Hector I-" you pause, leaning over to take one of his hands and holding it on your lap "I really like you..." The bashful look on your face says it all, it was the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Hector's metaphorical heart felt like it was about to burst, no doubt your house getting warmer by the second.

"Oh! I- uh..." Hector trails off, unsure what to say to truly show just how much he returns the feelings. Before either of you could say something else Mitchell Lin jumps up from his spot and points at Hector "He has the hots for you too!" Hector gasps and stares at Mitchell with a betrayed look on his face.

"Good job Mr. Lin, you've ruined my absolute romantic plan!" Sophia complains, standing up as well since the jig was up. She grabs onto his jacket and pulls him outside, slamming the door behind the both of them to actually give Hector privacy with you.

The room quiets again before you turn to Hector. "Is it true? Do you also like me back?!" The hopeful look on your face breaks him as he grabs onto your hands and pulls you close to him. "Yes! It's true! I feel so deeply for you. I can't help but spend all my time thinking of you and how lovely you are." He takes a shaky breath before continuing "You are one of the kindest humans to ever enter this home, and everyday is a blessing to me- just being in your presence is a great honor!"

The word vomit is said almost too quickly for you to understand, yet when he's done and looks up at you waiting for some sort of negative reaction he's only met with the biggest smile ever.

"Oh, Hector!" You cry, leaning over and wrapping your arms around him in a huge hug. "You're the best AC a person could ask for!"

[bartonomy]

OF STRAY CATS AND MISTAKEN IDENTITY

PAIRING Ravenclaw! Barty Crouch Junior x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS Barty is 101% convinced that the stray cat was his girlfriend. But after being hit with horror, he was left wondering- who the hell was he kissing?

CONTENT WARNING fluff, james & sirius mentioned, barty losing his mind, I love ravenclaw barty sm, mention of hospital wing, established relationship

WORD COUNT 2.8 k words

library.

Barty had never considered himself delusional.

A bit eccentric? Sure. Dramatic? Occasionally. Unhealthily obsessed with his girlfriend? Absolutely. But delusional? No.

At least, that’s what he told himself- right up until he locked eyes with a stray cat in the middle of the courtyard and thought, with absolute certainty, That’s her.

It had your eyes.

Same sharp gaze. Same depth of intelligence. Same quiet challenge, like it was judging him for existing.

The fact that it was also a literal feral animal didn’t quite register.

Barty blinked.

The cat blinked back.

Something cold slithered down his spine. No fucking way.

“…Love?” he muttered hesitantly.

From across the courtyard, James, who had been lazily tossing a Quaffle back and forth with Sirius, immediately paused mid throw.

James turned, brows furrowing as he watched Barty talk to a stray cat with the softest, most devastated expression on his face.

“What the fuck?” James muttered.

Sirius followed his gaze and snorted. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Meanwhile, Barty took a cautious step forward, heart pounding. “I- how did this happen?” he whispered.

The cat, being a cat, did not respond. Instead, it arched its back and hissed.

Barty flinched. His breath caught in his throat.

“No, no, it’s me,” he pleaded, taking another slow step forward. “Don’t be scared, love, I’ll-”

The cat bolted.

“WAIT!” Barty lunged, nearly tripping over his own feet as he sprinted after it.

Sirius howled with laughter as James gawked, watching as one of the most (maybe only) unhinged Ravenclaws in school history tore across the courtyard chasing a cat like it owed him money.

“WHAT IS HE DOING?” James demanded.

“I don’t know,” Sirius gasped, clutching his stomach, “but I am loving it.”

Barty, meanwhile, had completely lost the plot.

Because obviously, obviously, something had gone terribly wrong.

His girlfriend, the love of his life, had somehow been transformed into a cat and was now running away from him.

Was it a curse? Were you a secret animagus without telling him? (He very much hoped not). A transfiguration accident? Had some idiot Gryffindor (probably Potter) hexed you for fun?

He would kill them.

“LOVE, PLEASE!” Barty called desperately.

The cat did not care. The cat was tired of his bullshit.

It darted around a group of fifth-year Ravenclaws, who shrieked in alarm as Barty barreled through them, sending books and parchment flying.

“CROUCH, WHAT THE HELL—?!”

“NO TIME,” Barty yelled over his shoulder. “THIS IS A RESCUE MISSION! LIFE OR DEATH!"

The Ravenclaws watched him go, stunned, before one of them turned to their friend. “Do you think he finally lost it?”

“I think he lost it a long time ago.”

Barty chased the cat all the way past the Greenhouses, through the courtyard, and around the castle walls before jumping on a pillar and out of sight.

He was heartbroken.

Barty Crouch Junior was losing his goddamn mind.

“I saw him again,” a fourth-year Hufflepuff whispered behind him a few days later as he stalked past the courtyard, eyes scanning the treetops.

“No way.”

“Yes way! He was behind Greenhouse Three, just squatting in the bushes—”

“What, again?”

Barty ignored them, running a hand through his already messy hair. He had barely eaten. He had barely slept. Every time he so much as blinked, all he could see was you- or rather, the cat- flitting through the castle grounds, always just out of reach.

Evan had noticed.

“What the fuck are you doing, Crouch?” he had demanded over breakfast, watching in horror as Barty practically inhaled three pieces of toast in under a minute. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge.”

Regulus, sitting beside him, had barely spared Barty a glance before going back to his book. “He has been dragged through a hedge.”

Barty had scowled. “I’m fine.”

“You rearranged your entire schedule to be free at dusk.”

“I did not-”

“Yes, you did,” Regulus had interrupted, still not looking up. “I saw you bribing McLaggen to go to your Herbology classes.”

Evan had narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Barty had hesitated. Then, after a long moment, he had sighed and muttered, “It’s her.”

Evan had blinked. “Who?”

“Her. You know.”

A long, agonizing even, silence followed.

“… Mate.” Evan’s voice had been so cautious, so deeply concerned. “Are you telling me you think your girlfriend turned into a cat? That she was stuck in a cat form for three days straight? I thought you Ravenclaws were supposed to be bright but I guess the hat made some mistakes after all”

Barty had stiffened. “It has her eyes.” he sighed dreamily. "And Oi! Dare I remind you that I am exceptionally intelligent! I wouldn't run after some animal if I wasn't 100% sure if it was my dazzling girl. She's been stuck in the hospital wing for days now and I've been banned from entering it if I wasn't injured. Pomfrey's too bloody intimidating to say no to." He muttered the last part grumpily.

That had sent Evan into a full body wheeze in the middle of the great Hall, while Regulus had just pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I need new friends’.

But now, about 4 hours later, standing outside the castle with a bundle of blankets and a plate of stolen roast chicken, Barty knew he was right.

Because there- slinking through the grass with a very familiar look of absolute disdain- was you.

Or rather, the cat.

“Come on, love,” he murmured, crouching down. “Just a little closer…”

The cat eyed him warily. He lifted the plate of food.

A pause.

Then, finally, finally, its little nose twitched.

Barty grinned. “Got you.”

With one swift motion, he scooped it up, ignoring the furious hissing as he bundled it in his cloak, clutching it to his chest like a priceless treasure “You’re safe now,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to its little furry head. “I’ve got you.” and sprinted for Ravenclaw Tower.

“Nothing to see here!” he called as a group of first-years stared at him in horror. “Just taking my girlfriend for a walk-”

The cat sank its claws into his sleeve, but he barely felt it. Because finally, after three days of agony, he had you back.

And now? Now he was never letting go.

You knew Barty Crouch Jr. was bloody unhinged, but this was a new level.

At first, it had been a joke, something Evan and Regulus found amusing enough to tease him about in the common room. But the moment you heard the rumors by some second-year hufflepuff in the infirmary that a Ravenclaw student had been seen talking sweetly to a mangy black cat behind Greenhouse Three, you knew exactly who was responsible.

Because if anyone at Hogwarts was insane enough to mistake a random stray for his own girlfriend, it was Barty.

And of course, when Regulus, and Evan confronted him about it, he had scoffed, sneered, and shrugged it off like the very idea was beneath him.

But now, after class ( which he was very much absent from), you were all standing in the doorway of his dormitory in in the Ravenclaw Tower, You had expected something when you entered Barty’s dormitory that evening.

Maybe some scattered parchment filled with messy scrawl, half finished homework dumped onto the floor, or the usual stack of contraband items he kept hidden from Filch. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he was cackling over some new prank he had cooked up, or plotting something ridiculous, like replacing all of Flitwick's quills with sugar quills to see how long it would take him to notice.

But watching in stunned silence as Barty- your Barty- lay sprawled across his bed, stroking the very same stray cat like it was the love of his life.

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of its head. “I knew you’d come back to me.”

You exchanged a slow, horrified glance with Regulus and Evan.

The cat, curled up in Barty’s arms, flicked its tail in disinterest. It looked particularly smug for an animal that had spent the last few days hissing at him and bolting at the first sign of movement.

Regulus was the first to break. “What,” he said, voice completely flat, “the fuck am I looking at?”

Barty yelped.

Like, full body, thrown-into-the-Black-Lake and-mauled-by-the giant-squid yelped.

He shot upright so violently that the cat in his arms went flying, landing on the floor with an indignant screech before bolting under the bed.

Barty, still half dazed, whipped around to face the three of you.

Then he saw you and his entire body locked up.

He stared, completely frozen, eyes darting between you- very much human, very much not a cat- and the actual cat now hiding under his bed.

For a moment, his brain clearly struggled to process the reality of the situation.

Then, slowly, horrified, he turned back toward the bed and whispered, voice trembling,

“Then… who the fuck is that?”

Evan wheezed. Regulus made a noise that sounded like a mix between a groan and a prayer for patience.

You just stood there, arms crossed, watching your boyfriend’s entire grasp on reality unravel before your eyes.

Barty, still looking like he had just witnessed a bloody murder, pointed at the bed. “I- I thought- ” He gestured wildly at you. “It had your eyes! It looked like you!”

Evan wiped at his eyes, barely breathing through his laughter. “Oh, mate-”

Regulus rubbed his temples. “This is painful to watch.”

Barty suddenly lunged toward you, gripping your face with both hands. His blue eyes were comically wide, scanning your features with frantic intensity, as if trying to confirm that you were, in fact, real.

“You- you’re human,” he whispered.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s usually how it works, yeah.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “But I-” He turned back to the cat, still cowering under his bed. “But you- ” He let go of your face and ran both hands through his hair, looking genuinely distressed. “Oh, fuck.”

Barty looked absolutely bewildered. His gaze again darted from the three of you standing in his doorway to the empty space in his arms, then back again, like his brain had momentarily shut down.

Regulus, arms crossed, gave him a withering look. “Explain.”

Evan snorted. “*Yeah, Barty. Explain why you’re making out with a bloody cat.”

“I- I wasn’t- What?” Barty spluttered, still looking thoroughly rattled and perhaps on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His cheeks were pink, his hair a mess from where he’d been lounging against the pillows. “This isn’t- You don’t-”

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Oh, please. You kissed it.”

“I did not!”

“You definitely did,” Evan drawled, smirking. “Called it darling and everything.”

“I was-” Barty stopped, face twisting in horror as realization finally dawned. He turned toward the bed, eyes wide. “Oh my god.”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in actual, physical pain. “You genuinely thought that was her?”

You crossed your arms. “And this is why you’ve been skipping meals and sneaking off every evening?”

Barty groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, fine. I may have… mistaken a cat for my girlfriend. Briefly.”

Regulus turned to you, looking deeply unimpressed. “This is your fault.”

You scoffed. “How is this my fault? I spent the last week listening to children groaning and Pomfrey praying for a quiet night.”

“You’re the one dating him,” he said, gesturing vaguely at Barty, who was now staring at the underside of his bed like it had personally betrayed him.

Evan grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Did you know your boyfriend had fur kink?”

Barty turned a deep scarlet. “Evan!”

You snorted, but made the mistake of picturing it. Barty, draped across his four-poster bed, murmuring sweet nothings to a cat that clearly wanted him dead and immediately had to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Regulus sighed, looking more disappointed than anything. “Merlin, Barty. Why?”

Barty groaned again. “Okay, listen, I swear it looked like her from a distance—”

“Oh?” Evan interrupted, grinning wickedly. “Tell me, Barty, exactly which part of your human girlfriend reminded you of that flea-ridden animal except for the eyes”

Regulus nodded, giving him a deadpan look. “It has yellow eyes."

Barty shot him a glare. “Well-" But then he hesitated. “They… they glowed in the dark?”

“Unbelievable,” Regulus muttered.

“You know what?” Barty huffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Oh, but you do,” you said, grinning. “Because I’d really, really love to know how long you’ve been calling a feral animal by your girlfriend.”

Barty looked deeply uncomfortable.

Evan cackled. “Mate, we should check if you’re cursed. I’ve never seen a wizard be so devoted to a cat before.”

Regulus frowned. “Wait. How did you even catch it?”

A moment of silence fell yet again and Barty coughed. “… A trap.”

You gaped at him. “You set a trap for it?!”

“A very nice trap,” he defended. “With food! And a blanket! I made it comfortable.”

Evan finally lost it. Evan actually had to lean against the doorframe for support, wheezing, gasping for breath. “I can’t- Barty, you insane bastard- ”

Regulus sighed heavily. “Unbelievable.”

You, on the other hand, were struggling between mild horror and the overwhelming urge to laugh.

Because Barty- your very devoted, very dramatic boyfriend- had spent days thinking a feral cat was you.

You cleared your throat. “Just to be absolutely clear- you’ve been talking to this cat like it was me? I wrote a letter to you when I was gone”

Barty looked like he wanted to die.

“I may have… mistaken it for you,” he muttered. "And I thought that you just wrote it with your tiny little paws! Kick my balls for thinking that my girlfriend is brilliant even as a little animal."

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merlin help me.”

Evan, tears in his eyes, managed to choke out, “Did you kiss it?”

Barty recoiled, offended. “Of course not!”

You raised an eyebrow.

He faltered.

“Okay, maybe once,” he admitted, looking disgusted with himself. “On the head! Not on the- ugh.” He shuddered violently. “Oh, Merlin, I’m going to be sick.”

Evan was on the verge of collapsing. You, finally unable to hold back your laughter, let out a loud, delighted cackle.

Barty’s head snapped toward you, looking utterly betrayed. “You’re enjoying this?”

You grinned. “Oh, immensely.”

“You don’t understand,” he groaned, looking back at the cat with actual horror. “I cuddled with it.”

Regulus sighed, looking genuinely exhausted. “This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

Barty buried his face in his hands. “I need a memory charm.”

Evan wiped away another tear. “This is what happens when you skip meals and stalk animals in the middle of the night, mate.”

You smirked, stepping forward until you were right in front of Barty again. “You know,” you mused, voice teasing, “I’ve never seen you look this flustered.”

Barty groaned into his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re absolutely deranged.”

Regulus gave him the second long, deeply unimpressed stare of the night. “Right.” He turned to you. “This is the man you chose.”

“I’m reconsidering,” you said, still giggling.

Barty’s head shot up. “Oi! shut up-”

Before he could finish, the cat, who had apparently had enough of this conversation, darted out from under the bed and made a break for it. It leapt onto the windowsill, tail flicking, and then, in one swift motion, it launched itself into the night.

“No!” Barty lunged for it, but the cat was already gone.

Regulus, Evan, and you watched in stunned silence as Barty remained frozen at the window, staring out like a heartbroken widow in a tragic romance novel.

"Is it dead?" you whispered in horror.

Evan was laughing again. “Mate. That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Barty turned around, pointing an accusing finger. “You did this.”

Regulus scoffed. “Oh, yes, we personally convinced you to fall in love with a stray animal.”

“I did not- ” Barty stopped, exhaled sharply, then pointed at you. “You! We’re leaving.”

You blinked. “Leaving where?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here,” he snapped, marching toward you. “I refuse to be subjected to this abuse any longer.”

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your hand and dragged you out the door into the hallway, muttering about how no one appreciated his suffering.

You grinned and clenched his hand lovingly. “Don’t worry, love. At least now you’ve got a backup girlfriend.”

He looked pained. “Don’t say that."

Still in the room, Evan nudged Regulus. “Do you think it’s still got fleas?”

Barty let out a distant strangled sound. “Oh my god.”

Regulus, ignoring him, simply said, “I hope so.”

Barty ran back into his dorm, dragging you with him and ignoring your yelp of protest and immediately lunged for the cat, now frantically inspecting its fur.

Evan and Regulus walked out laughing.

And you? You just stood there, watching your deranged boyfriend have a full breakdown.