#my mc is me but it's not me but it's me y'know?

[ddejavvu]

Hiii, hope you’re doing well! I’ve been obsessed with rewatching The Nanny and there’s this episode where Fran (the mc) reveals she has a tattoo but not the place, which leads to Maxwell (her love interest who she has an absurd amount of tension with) wondering where it is. Fran teases him constantly, and Maxwell checks her out endlessly and spends his time thinking about the tattoo and how hot it is that she has one. Could you write smth like this for poly!marauders? Maybe when theyre friends or at the start of their relationship. Honestly you could pull so many ideas from this series for fanfic. Thank youu so much!

"It's gotta be a tramp stamp." Sirius decides, "There's no other place on her body she'd be trying to hide from us."

"She could show us her back," James scoffs, "I bet it's, like, on her thigh or something. Y'know, right by the- well, she'd have to take off her pants. That's why she won't tell us."

"Maybe it's between her tits." Sirius snickers, "Or right on her left asscheek."

"Why the left and not the right?" Peter asks, "Maybe it goes across both."

"Right. It's James on one side and Potter on the other." James nods, blinding grin in full force, "She just can't admit that to me or she'd be embarrassed."

"Nice try." Remus had refrained from joining the conversation until now, but he leans in to murmur, "Marlene says she's seen it before."

"Where is it?" Sirius's eyes blow wide, surely jealous of the Gryffindor girl, "And what is it?"

"She wouldn't say." Remus admits, "But that means we're probably right. It's somewhere she can't show us."

"It's confirming our hypothesis." James nods, mouth set in a thoughtful expression, "We're using the scientific method."

"You're a genius," Remus snorts, "Anyways, I'll keep asking around."

"I'll ask Lily," James hums, faux-casually, "I think this time she'll-"

"She'll never tell you. I'll ask Lily." Sirius decides, "And you stick to Alex."

James's nose scrunches in displeasure at the thought of having to interrogate your unsavory ex, but their curiosity is eating them alive. They make to get up and fan out to search for more clues, but you come and plop down on the bench beside Peter, your hand already reaching for one of the breakfast platters.

"Morning boys." You hum, and Remus's eyes catch on black ink dotted over the base of your ring finger, "How was practice, James?"

"What's on your finger?" Remus blurts before James can begin rambling, and he realizes that the ring you typically wear is absent.

"Oh." You glance at your hand, shoulders stiffening slightly as you realize your secret is out, "I forgot my ring."

"That's your tattoo?" Sirius exclaims, incredulous and feeling just a little cheated, "Two letters? On your finger? What's scandalous about that?"

"I never said it was scandalous! I just said it was embarrassing." You defend yourself, "And it is."

"What is it?" James asks, and perhaps he's the only one that could have gotten it out of you, with the gentleness permanently present in his voice.

You groan, "It's the initials of a boy I like, okay?"

Sirius's head jerks back, surprised, "Were you together?" Then his eyes narrow further, "Are you together?"

"No! No, we're not together, he's-" You stammer, stuffing a bite of egg into your mouth to delay the inevitable, "He's not even real."

Silence and confused looks greet you, and you sigh, voice dejected, "He's a character from a book. Okay? And I was a little drunk and I thought it'd be a good idea for a stick-and-poke, but it was not as temporary as I thought it'd be."

"He's pretend." Sirius realizes, glee filling out his expression and making him beam, "You've got a fake man's initials on your ring finger!"

"Here comes the bride," James snickers, "Marrying a bloody book."

"Easy boys, let's not tease her." Remus seemingly takes pity on you, nudging his foot against yours beneath the table, "She's gonna be pretty beat up when he doesn't show for the wedding - we shouldn't make things worse."

[lonely-north-star]

thank you for the tag satang and ven !!! 🫶 i remember going crazy when this card came out ajwjd

no pressure tags: @the-auguer @violet-turning-violet @mammomlette @kelotalks @viczen33

cute thing im coming up with

this picrew of yourself and your current hyperfixation !!

no pressure tags @pearlzier @julesssyy @reidsfavoritegirl @whitney23317 @willowsblanket @flowercrownsandtrauma @rottenletter

[nubeesart]

Day 3 AND 5: Mammon/Leviathan

idk I just figured this could be something that happens from time to time. Trying to divide your time between 7 demon brothers can be difficult, specially when one of them is feeling a little bit too impatient to wait for his turn.

@obeymetournaments's obey me month list can be found here.

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Cookie's Writing Challenge Day Four: Excitement

Prompt of the Day: Excitement

Featured Characters: Elyssabeth Alcyone, Eris Alexander, Margarette Camellia Sanchez, and Lucifer

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The family's going on a surprise trip, and the two kids are so excited that they couldn't fall asleep. Fortunately for them, Mama's here to help!

A/N: Hearing Solmare's announcement was the final push I needed to finish up this fic and post it (writing it out of spite lol). This was stuck in my drafts for a YEAR 💀

Also, consider this as a part of my OM Timeskip AU.

With that being said, I hope you enjoy this little family fluff.

Note: Italicized words' meanings at the end.

Warning: NOT PROOFREAD (my head is still pounding from doing schoolwork so this may be a little incoherent 💀)

Cookie's 18th Birthday Bash Countdown Event

Cookie's Writing Challenge Prompts

< Day Three: Rest

In the late hours of the night, the usual noise of the House of Lamentation is reduced to a peaceful quiet as the residents doze off to dreamland.

This night, however, was different.

Soft giggling can be heard from the room of the youngest members of the family.

"Ate, do you think we'll visit a museum this time?" The young boy, Eris, asked his sister Elyssabeth who was lying at the bottom bunk of their bed.

"I'm not sure, but I hope we'll visit the seaside again. The sunset we saw before was really pretty."

"Ooh! And what if this time we'll make an overnight stay and make a campfire like those in the movies!"

This time, he peered down to look at her.

"Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Elyssabeth giggled in response as she began to imagine the scene.

"Elyssa? Eris? Why are you still up?"

Hearing their names, the two children turned to see the figure standing by the door.

"Mama!"

There stood Camellia with a questioning look. In her hands was a tray with two glasses of milk on it.

Closing the door behind with magic, she made her way to the bunk bed and asked, "Too excited to fall asleep?"

The children nodded.

"I thought so," Camellia smiled softly and placed the glasses on the bedside table.

"Mama, are we going to a museum tomorrow?"

"Or at the seaside again for an overnight stay and do a campfire at night?"

She couldn't help but chuckle at the twins' questions. It seems like they're really excited for this trip, she thought.

"Maybe, maybe not. Who knows..." she says in a teasing lilt.

"The only way to find out is if you wake up tomorrow on time for the trip, so you really need to sleep now."

Eris whined at her reply. "But Mamaaaa, I have to know! Tell us... pretty please~?"

"But then it wouldn't be a surprise anymore, wouldn't it...?"

Camellia paused. An idea had just formed in her mind.

"How about this? What if I stay here and we can make a pillow fort? Sounds good?"

Upon hearing her suggestion, Elyssabeth and Eris immediately lit up and hurriedly brought their pillows and blankets on the floor.

"Are you done with your milk?" Camellia asked as she finishes arranging the pillows and blankets.

"Yep! All finished!" the children answered, putting the empty glasses back on the table.

She smiled and patted the spaces beside her.

Elyssabeth was the first to lie down inside the pillow fort, followed by her younger twin.

Camellia was the last one to lie down, ensuring that the two was comfortable enough first.

"Mama..." Elyssabeth softly called.

"Yes, my little chestnut?"

"Can you tell us the story of the Sun King and the Flower Maiden?"

"Are you sure? You've heard it several times now."

"It's my favorite," the young girl replied.

Camellia sighed before smiling. "...Alright."

Once upon a time, there lived a young maiden in a faraway village. She was the daughter of the village chief and was known for her remarkable beauty.

Every day, she would always bathe in the river before sunrise, and the moment she finishes, the sun is already appearing from the horizon. And every time, she would comb her long, silken hair and watch the sun ascend while weaving a flower crown that she would wear.

She would then place fresh flowers from her garden on the village's makeshift altar as an offering to God.

Unbeknownst to her, the Sun King who travels around the world every day in his golden chariot would watch her as she goes on her day, and he eventually fell in love with her.

The Sun King wanted the maiden to know how he feels towards her. But he wasn't human like her. He doesn't have a mouth that he could use to declare his love for her.

Then one afternoon, as the Sun King prepares himself to return to his home, he saw the maiden sleeping peacefully under the shade of a huge tree. He was so mesmerized by her beauty that he couldn't help but touch her face with his golden rays and accidentally taking her with him in his golden chariot.

However, the Sun King realized that as much as he loved her, he wouldn't be able to bring her back to his celestial home. So with a heavy heart, he slowly placed the maiden back to where she was sleeping and left. The maiden woke up after that, thinking that all that happened earlier was only a dream as she watched the sky's different colors caused by the setting sun.

But that brief contact between the Sun King and the maiden resulted to something, and many moons later, it was found out that the maiden was carrying the Sun King's child in her womb.

The maiden's father, the village chief, asked her daughter how it happened. But the maiden could not answer, for she doesn't know that the Sun King was the father of her child. This angered her father, and he banished the poor maiden from the village.

Saddened by this, the maiden visited her flower garden, her tears wetting the grass before she went to the makeshift altar and prayed.

In the following days, the maiden walked along the track beside the river. Her food were the wild fruits she found, and her shelter the shade of the trees. And there, she gave birth to her and the Sun King's daughter. The child, being the Sun King's daughter, has fair skin and a round face and beautiful eyes.

Meanwhile, back in the village, the flowers slowly wilted without the maiden's presence. The village also became gloomy since her banishment.

The village chief, realizing how lonely it was without his one and only daughter, ordered his men to find her and bring her back.

The moment the maiden returned to the village with her newborn daughter, the village was once again filled with joy and the flowers bloomed and became vibrant again.

"...And they lived happily, ever after."

As if on cue, the door opened the moment the story ended, revealing Lucifer on the other side.

"Shhh... they just fell asleep," said Camellia in a hushed voice.

"Then you'll be sleeping here, I take it?" Lucifer replied in a similar tone.

"Mm... You could sleep here too, you know? There's still some space."

There was a moment of silence before the Avatar of Pride joined the three inside the pillow fort and lied beside Elyssabeth who was now sleeping soundly.

Camellia softly smiled at the sight.

"They were so excited for the trip tomorrow, I can't help but hope they enjoy it a lot."

"Then all the more reason to ensure that things will go smoothly tomorrow," Lucifer hummed, mirroring her smile with his own.

Looking at him, a small thought came to her mind before closing her eyes.

Sana hindi matapos ang mga ganitong sandali.

"Good night, love."

"Good night."

Ate - an honorific in Filipino which is used to refer to an older sister or a slightly older woman.

The Sun King and the Flower Maiden - a folk tale that tells the reason why flowers seem to bloom a lot during the month of May. The original title is "Bakit Mabulaklak Ang Buwan ng Mayo" (lit. Why is the Month of May Flowery?) (I'm the one who came up with the title used in this fic lol).

"Sana hindi matapos ang mga ganitong sandali." - "I hope these moments would never end."

Tags: @officialdaydreamer00 @identity-theft-101 @the-clockwork-fiend @cloudcountry @twst-beam @yourlocalgrass @amberrskiies

[roboticutie]

It's a side-mission that I don't think many end up doing, at least from the lack of talking about it I see, but still. The figurines. If you succeed a check in the pawn shop, you can take a figurine of a headless soldier on a horse. If you've done that, when you inspect the stained glass Dolores Dei you can get the task to give her any and all figurines you can find. Perhaps you can one day. Even when you get this task, though, it feels odd- it confuses your Logic because Dei has long since passed, but... Maybe you can give her these gifts somehow? You can find another figurine in the unplayable Wirral expansion pack (I only found it bc I didn't know you couldn't play Wirral w Kim). There are only these 2, according to the wiki, and I have not found more.

This task is another moment where the writers really manage to emulate that feeling of not only loss, but lost-ness that you get a few times in the game. When I did this task I thought it would be something extraordinary, maybe vaguely supernatural as there are a few things confirmed to be unexplainable happening with and around Harry, y'know? I had hope and intrigue and didn't even realize how strange and rare it must be to get this task on accident bc after typing it out I realized the starting parameters were VERY specific and easy to miss, actually. And I was so excited to find who to give it to, maybe a lost shrine, or someone reaching through a spot of pale and time, maybe when I found 3 or 5 I could lay them at her shattered feet and look behind the glass, something odd and unexplainable.

Then I met her in the dream. And just before it ended I was reminded that I'm supposed to give Dei the figurines. And that's when it dawned on me what Harry had forgotten, and I knew what he'd done to his memory of Dora by combining the two, and... It was so sobering and desolate. It felt the same way the end of a party feels, when you're the last to leave. The balloons are still up, but there's streamers on the floor, crumbs on the plates, bowls of snacks emptied, walls that held and echoed laughter are silent. The after image of something amazing, left only with the memory and the knowledge that that moment will never, ever happen the same way again.

You fulfill this task by giving all found figurines to Dora in the final dream.

And it does nothing. It doesn't work. Nothing will work. She would have liked them once, but like Dei, that Dora is dead. She died years ago and the Dora that remains is far, far away now.

Just like when I had no idea the carriage was Harry's until Kim spelled it out for us 2 hours later after chatting and whistling and relaxing; the figurines made what Harry was feeling and going through dawn on me so personally. I can't explain it in words well enough. I was so disappointed the figurines weren't some greater purpose, I was sad this was all we were holding onto them for, I was disappointed in Harry for trying to use trinkets to win her back, I was upset that they didn't do anything good, she didn't even want them; and I knew that's what Harry felt in that moment, too.

It's a level of "Show, don't tell," that not many writers set themselves up to be able to achieve. Even in this game there are only a handful of moments that are able to put you into Harry's headspace so precisely, and all of them are very specific and rely heavily on context given or lost on the player. It's impressive. I think about those figurines a lot.

[aiscapades]

this is the first and only time i will be blatantly nsfw on tumblr dot com

ais saying "sing for me, little sparrow" in that very specific circumstance :)

[cephydeluxe]

"goddamn, i hate fe fates so fucking much", i say, knowing damn well i sunk 500+ hours into all three of the routes and spending countless hours rewriting it in my head for no reason other than my own enjoyment-

[privilegedjester]

have this idea for a story that's like one of the best I've come up with but everything I have written out for it so far is just sooo cute and it's not meant to be cute!! I'm not a Super Big horror person but that's what I want out of it! there are TWO developed characters in the entire thing because pov character cannot recognize other people! (it's kinda a steampunk vibe so they're like. blank faced machinery. idk I'll flesh it out more later) but it's like. he literally is not human enough to even comprehend others of his own species. he doesn't know who he is anymore, not really, because he's become so comfortable in the perspective the only other real, existing character has of him. and everything I have in my head right now has been OMG THEY CAN GO ON CUTE DATES literally I have a whole scene in a coffeeshop planned out. what am I doing man. even my working title is adorable and absolutely not meant for this

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

i want to do a silly drawing of my old avatars / at least some of them interacting but the problem is i have . Way too many

[reitziluz]

i can't help myself, if i see a challenge i need to puzzle it out.

tonight it lead me to check out the vending machine isekai.

... surprisingly alright, hilariously matter of fact about the fanservice-adjacent topics. tho i only watched a couple eps so idk if it goes places later.

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: *live on Magicam* Y'know, since I'm away from home and I've got no family to celebrate the holidays-

MC: I decided to randomly visit my friends' houses to see if they would let me spend it with them- and they didn't disappoint.

MC: Say Hi, Mommy Leech!

The Leech's Twins' mother: *waves at the camera*

The comments:

Ace: Bruh, isn't it freezing there right now?

MC: I'm frost-resistant. ^^

Ace: Bitc-

Azul: They are heavily stocked with potions.

MC: @Azul Shh... 🤫

[stellacendia]

I've got a complicated history with the concept of romance. I had a relationship in high school that, while technically romantic, was more or less "I like you the same amount as my other friends except we kiss sometimes." I've always had friendships that were incredibly intense, at least on my end. And when the person on the other end of that friendship was single, I felt that intensity was... more or less returned enough for me to be content. Not everyone values friendships like I do, I get it. Good enough for me.

Then that friend would get a romantic partner, and suddenly it felt like I mattered way less. And, god, I've always tried to be reasonable about it, I've tried to be understanding and nice. Of course my friend wants to spend a lot of time with their partner, especially when the relationship is new. Of course the partner is important too, of course romance is important to my friend. I can't be selfish and deny my friend time with their partner. I should try to be friends with the partner so that we can all spend time together. No, it's definitely not third-wheeling, not when we're all friends with each other!

But yeah, I felt replaced. Also horribly guilty for feeling replaced, but to me.... that friend was the most important person in the world. I'd do anything for that person, no questions asked. Follow them to the ends of the earth, let my entire universe revolve around them. (Is this healthy? Maybe not. Probably not. Did it anyway. Don't know how not to.) And it just fucken sucks when that person simply won't offer the same devotion in return. They'll offer it to their romantic partner, because the romantic partner is always more important than any platonic relationships. They'll offer it conditionally to me, when they're between relationships, only to drop me again the moment they start up another romance.

It's this messy cycle that keeps me endlessly questioning whether or not I'm really aromantic. Cause most of the time I feel like I am! I do not and have never needed romance. And then I catch myself daydreaming about a future where I have a partner that acts in all the ways a romantic partner does and have a mini identity crisis.

And I think, I've figured it out. I don't actually want a romantic relationship. What I want is for someone to finally offer me back the same kind of devotion most commonly found in romantic relationships, the same kind of devotion I offer my closest friends. For once I want to be somebody's most important person, instead of always being second best.

[shehungers]

CARNAL

werewolf husband x reader | 18+ | 3k

your husband is a painter who makes a meager, but comfortable living for you both creating portraits for nobles. his love of painting stems from his adoration of the night sky and the moon. he disappears one night and returns three days later—changed, distant, aggressive, and ravenous. not long after, you discover the reason for his behaviors and face the consequences of curiosity.

story warnings; dead dove do not eat, dubcon, explicit sexual content, explicit details of genitalia (werewolf), breeding, knotting, kinda cockwarming??, mentions of feeling "bloated", cumshot on body, brief piss kink mention, size difference, brief handjob, mc gets head a few times lmao, classism, mc is kinda a shitty spouse in this, detail + prose heavy (extreme), roughly proofread — you are warned.

so, this all started when I was talking to @/peachdues about her fic and idk, knotting has just been in my head since. awesome. now it's out of my system, I hope 😭

this is also my first official new piece of writing on this blog! everything before this has been reposts of older work. hopefully it doesn't disappoint!!!

would love, love, love to hear your feedback! reblogs are so tremendously appreciated!!.🙏🏻❤️

note: this is not my personal canon interpretation of werewolves. this is just a werewolf fic, y'know?

He was the wretched thing you kept behind locked doors with the rising of each full moon.

Once, the pale moonlight had been a thing of beauty to you both; an exquisite, lustrous pearl which seemed so small pinched between your fingers, squeezed and blurred through narrowed eyes. He, on the other hand, admired it differently from you by staring adoringly at its craggy features and the wan, white halo it emitted.

By trade, he was a painter and made a meager living for you both from it. His portraits were most popular as nobles found his style palatable, brushwork concealing of all flaws that showed in their faded clothes, their tarnished jewelry, their ravaged flesh and inbred faces. He knew what they'd wanted in a painting and created these fabrications as they wished because it meant more than old bread and leathery meats for dinner.

For you, he endured such mundanity if it meant you could eat well and dress warmly and in an enviable way to the neighbors. He enjoyed your simple delight; how little it truly took to keep you happy, how easy your marriage had been up until that point. You loved him and you loved the things he provided for you.

When it came nighttime, far into the blackest hours where the world seemed seized in so forceful a hush, you made no objections when he pulled you from bed to go outside with him to view the sky. There, he painted by the orange embers of lantern light and tried to capture all the likeness of the night sky with its misty moonlight and glittering, starry veil.

Sometimes you held the lantern for him, sometimes you did nothing but sit on his side holding the paint palette and lean into his hip, leaching away warmth from his body. Most nights, you were a handsome fixture and most beloved companion, trying to squash the moon like a grape with your fingers while speaking every thought out loud.

But, one night he went out alone and did not return for three days. He had left with his easel and stretched canvas and precious paint board, yet had come back to stand in the doorway with none of it.

“Darling,” you hesitated, starting out firm in case he was inebriated, altered aggressively in some way. You looked at him as though he were some strange person. “Where are your things? Your paints? Your canvas? My love, where have you been?”

“I—I don't have much of an answer to that. I'm sorry.” Then, he strode past you to the bedroom, shuttered the windows to muffle light and sound, declaring he needed rest. “Please, let me be. I'll look for my things another time.”

Later, he was ravenous at the dinner table and ate more than you thought it’d ever be possible for one man to do. You sacrificed your own portion in hopes he'd be sated, but he only turned irritable and mute, as if he were aware nothing good would come of his words to you. At the time, you'd feared that you had upset him in some way, perhaps no longer thought you lovely and fashionable or dependable as his partner and wanted to do away with your marriage.

That would mean you could only return home to rural hardship, or to the slums in the neighboring kingdom. The world would know your unwanted status, how much of a disappointment you'd been to satisfy your own husband, and you would never know another moment of quiet luxury again.

You couldn't accept such a fate, so you bathed him carefully that night. Purposeful with how you dragged the soapy sponge down along his back, fingernails a featherlight graze between the valleys of muscle and flesh protecting his spine. You kissed the back of his shoulders, lips a smouldering touch against his neck.

Then, you felt from stomach down to his hips, swirling your fingertips against the bony protrusions and in the fragrant water before wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him to hardness. He still said nothing as he kissed your lips, tongue relentlessly pursuing your teeth to get inside your mouth, and pulled you into the tub with him fully clothed.

He fucked you deep and hard that night bent over the edge of the tub, hips pistoning up against your ass, skin slapping raw, thrusting into your wet walls at an angle that had you writhing with a face warped in equal parts exquisite bliss and agony. It wasn't until one of his hands gripped you around the neck, levering you against him, that you noticed a wound on his forearm right below where purple and green veins pulsed under his skin, translucent.

They were tooth marks—two rows of them. Crooked and sharp, arranged in a way that reminded you of the jagged spears wetted by sea spray at the base of a cliff. They looked deep, like whatever had bit him held on, yet hadn’t the intention to tear his arm off of the rest of him. The punctures were purple-red and abyssal as you studied them, vision jarred by his cock ramming you, his panting in the crook of your neck, and the bruise surrounding it bloomed a concentration of colors resembling an inkspill.

How had you not noticed it before?

“I fear what may come on certain nights from now on. When I ask it, lock the bedroom and shutter the windows from the outside. Don't ask me questions for I have no answers to give you.” He did not offer you the reassurance you had wanted, but it was enough to help you confidently stride through the days, knowing that your marriage wasn't in crisis.

Afterwards, it became imperative for you to act as someone educated because you needed to understand what was happening to your husband some nights.

It started days before a full moon: he became impatient, easy to displease, indignant upon any perceived blunder you made. He did not gorge on wine, but whatever meats were preserved in storage and what you could afford now with his inconsistent employment. You tried hiding these poor portions in thick stews with vegetables that had been infused in simmering beef stock for hours, but he was never fully sated by it.

At the same time he started to demand distance from you, he ravaged you at strange hours in your shared bed, tearing at your clothes to suck on your nipples, lap the glisten between your legs. New was his biting to leave marks and sup the blood mixed with his own saliva. More than once, he came on your body with hot, thick ropes and squirted piss on you like an animal marking territory.

When the night of the full moon arrived, he was transformed and horrifying. You had heard furniture crashing and shattering in the bedroom where he'd barricaded himself. Even his yowls throughout the evening had changed, no longer sounding like agony in the cries of the man you'd married, but something far more beastal. It came from within the chest, in the lungs behind the ribs, and was not human.

You had made the mistake only once to check in on him during this point in his shift, as you hadn't known any better. Your voice was a panicked flutter, a whisper of fear that something else might have broken through the fortress of wooden boards nailed against the windows from either side of it.

“My love? Darling, are you alright?”

He was there. You thought he was there because of the silhouette clambering across the broken remains of your shared dresser and vanity. The difference was that this thing was enormous. A creature with a bristling back, hair or spines standing out like a porcupine threatening with its quills.

It stood and was forced to hunch from the low ceiling of your house. A canine-like countenance glowered at you, red eyes partially obscured by patchy fur. Raw skin shined in the barren spots in the lantern light you'd forced into the room, and that hair didn't fully cover his abdomen nor his groin.

He was as much still human as he was this ugly beast. You'd thought to take another step into the room when he snarled and lunged towards the door. A shrill shriek pulled from your throat as you fully withdrew from the room, bolting the door shut with an iron key. He never made a ruckus against the door, and you left for the neighbor's right after, claiming that your husband had wanted space after an argument.

The next morning, your husband had somehow managed to escape the bedroom and sat in the kitchen clothed from the waist down, disoriented by the sunlight and his placement at the table. He didn't remember his transformation into the beast, but he did remember you.

Perhaps that's what gave you the courage to try to enter the bedroom the night of yet another shift. His yells of anger and pain had cooled after several hours, quieting to beastal groans and his heavy footfalls endlessly pacing the floorboards inside.

The door squealed, a call out to the darkness and creature within, and that creature responded with a growl—low, reverberating in darkness, a warning that you wouldn't be tolerated. You invaded the space carefully, meat and fish and other morsels for offering in a basket you'd woven yourself, that he had told you he thought was particularly artful at completion.

“Darling, I've brought you something. It's food. I've put fresh milk inside, too.” You caught sight of him near the boarded window, massive back rounded as he crouched low into a posture which looked as unnatural as when he tried to stand on his bent legs. “I know it—I know it won't ease your suffering, but you must still eat.”

He approached you, but it was unlike times before where he'd jump at the door to scare you away. This time he crawled towards you instead of intimidating you with his height—he wanted you to stay, and tried to appear small by dragging his long tail across the floor. The fur sounded like coarse bristles on a broomstick.

“Oh, my love. My love. My love. What has happened to you?” You moved away from the coverage of the door into the dark space, using your body to close it behind you so that he couldn't get out. You couldn't be sure how he'd behave if he could leave the house. “I'm here. Oh, you're so sweet. Look at you.”

You'd placed the basket aside neatly, making your movements obvious so as not to inspire ire, and didn't react when his long snout pressed into your abdomen. Stubble and whiskers pulled back to reveal long, stalagmite teeth which chewed mindlessly at your clothes. His damp nose nudged under your layers, pressing flush to your skin, startling you with a nasally gasp.

It was the instance where his nose left your stomach and went lower, pushing between your legs to lick you through your pants that you tried to cower, sidle out of his reach. He must've retained some semblance of himself because his arms rose to flank you at the waist, claws digging to the grain of the door, his strong snout pinning you, tongue knowing your shape even through cloth.

The fabric between your legs was wet, sticking flush to you, giving him as much nearness he could achieve without stripping off the layers separating him from your taste. The luscious imprint of you was unfulfilling, not even a teasing drop of what he instinctively knew he could have.

Your pants were removed unkindly; ripped at the waist, torn through impeccable artistry and threads and delicate fabric he had once paid for. Neither complete fear nor anger kept you silent, motionless for him to do as he pleased by yanking the pants off of your legs, but swelling curiosity. You wondered how much of your husband still remained inside this beast when the full moon was high.

The same unkindness followed him shredding through your underwear with his strange teeth, gnawing the fabric to a thin, sopping string before he could finally have you. Inhale you. Taste you with the paddle flatness of his tongue and make you squirm when his teeth skimmed that part.

“O-oh—” this wasn't like when he did it with his human tongue, as masterful as it was. He licked you with fervor you'd never felt, like he was reaching for something deep inside your viscera and blood and gore. Every subtle change of his immense nose and tongue was white heat behind your eyes, jostling pulses of electric, immodest moans, your hips driving forward on their own accord to help him find the treasure he sought within you.

Then, he stopped and hauled you to the floor with a single arm twice the thickness of that of his human counterpart. He knew no gentleness even now, dropping you onto your knees and palms against splintery floorboards which vented cool air up through the gaps, into your skin from the draft rising from underneath the house.

That cold reached deeper, seemed to lift off the ground to meet you as your husband—the beast—thrust your chest against the stiff boards and spread your legs apart with his mass. His claws sank around your hips without piercing your flesh, though their sharpness was undiminished to you regardless.

You knew agitation would not serve you here, neither would bursts of courage to escape. He would catch you with those talons, eat your insides with them and fuck you all the same.

He mounted you clumsily, then.

Enormous, coarse-haired hips grinding against your bare ass, prickling you, making you wince from where your face was nearly pressed into the wood below. You shivered at the first pass of his cock between your legs. Stiff and girthy, arched so well that you felt the moist tip drag across you, catching on spots he'd licked to flinching sensitivity, eagerly prodding at you.

The beast made a sound; a suffering groan with the tremble of his hips before he was thrusting inside of you. The sheer viciousness of his hips hammering against the globes of your ass and his heaviness forced you flat to the floor, where you reached out from the sides of your body for something to hold and grip for comfort. It was barren everywhere you touched.

Your walls were still tight around his cock even as the moments passed, growing no closer to accommodating his size than before, strokes animalistic and messy. While his fur muffled the friction of your skin, the airless dark of your bedroom was compacted with lewd squelching and moans you'd never known you were capable of making. Your noises were high-pitched and vile, paced with his hips, the curve of his cock stroking your velvety insides, and the wet suction releasing when he'd partially withdraw.

Above you, he panted with his long tongue lolling, dripping strings of saliva onto your back where they cooled upon contact and made you feel filthy. Your body ached from his weight pinning you to the inflexible floorboards, cold numbing your skin, hardening your nipples, grinding them down with each of his thrusts.

The enclosed space held an unusual smell, one apart from what you knew was sex. How sweat and salt and cum clung to the mustiness of old places. This was more pungent; earthier and heavier as it filled the room and leaked out of your hole, oozing down your thighs like nectar from a weeping peach.

You continued to let the beast—your husband—fuck you into the wood, the grain, to become an impression in the floor as nothing else could be done. But you were sore now and sure to be swollen, as you were an uncomfortable fit for him again; virgin tightness which gripped every vein and ridge in his cock.

The grinning beast bared even more of his teeth, clicking them together as he released a shuddering sound, too distant to be human but not entirely monstrous. He rutted you carnally, pushing your legs as far apart as they could go from where you were on your stomach, and went deeper inside of you still.

Something about the depth was so wrong—not meant to be, not meant to be experienced by a creature so simple as yourself. It was divine pleasure and pain, it was a threshold that shouldn't have been crossed, yet he had persevered and fucked you into screams.

His hips stuttered violently and he growled; he snarled; he whimpered like an actual beast mortally wounded. You gasped in awe at an enormity of sensations: his cum gushing inside of you, spurting out in thick ribbons to join the rest that had dried on your thighs, and his knot stretching your walls, locking his hips against your ass.

You fidgeted from the bulbous growth, clenching around it, whining wanly while he insistently humped you to burrow the knot as far as it could go. He was trying to breed you; plug his spend inside of you just as he would have had another creature of his sort. Because you were his spouse, perhaps he was only able to perceive you as his mate.

His movements soon slowed, calmed in a way of someone who'd been taken by blows of exhaustion and draped his large body across your back, prodding you with his spinose furs. There was some tenderness in how he kept his arms outside of you, bracing his weight onto them so as to not smother you. He did it to adjust his knot and half-hard cock inside you as well, unforgiving to the idea that you might have forgotten his fullness, that you were brimmed with his cum and felt bloated from it.

Nothing would come from this, only the shame of knowing you'd moaned and screamed for this beast, but not the human you'd married.

[tsuyalovebot]

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. untitled drabble (>500 words, one sitting — ignore any typos). sexually explicit content, mdni / ageless blogs dni. mc=reader. i'm still writing a long caleb piece, so please be patient with me. (_ _ ||| )

a part of my brain matter was taken away when i incorporated the position change of doggy -> prone bone in you're a catch 22.

genuinely. i think caleb hitting it from the back is a primal need that scratches the underside of one's brain so well. it's the pent-up nature of it, and the lack of tact that makes it so primal.

but the big, sentimental idiot who's spent the better part of his life craving your existence also loves intercourse in positions where he can see you. that physical connection and proximity is what cements that closeness to you. he grounds himself in the fact that your bodily warmth is proof of this all being real.

this man has you in a lotus position on evenings when he's craving you, his hands on your waist as he's whispering "i love you"s against your neck. more often than not, he has to leave bright and early the next day, so he makes sure to get his fill of you — not that you mind.

missionary is spent having staring contests where you inevitably tap out, hitting at his arms and back when he stifles his laughter against your collarbone because the one time he wins a staring contest is when he's balls deep inside of you.

he will never let you have peace when you're riding him, demanding you to keep those eyes on him otherwise he'll make you finish on your own while he touches himself in front of you.

all in all, this man is versatile.

you're marveling at your flexibility one day, eyeing the arch in your back when you mimic it in the mirror. there was nothing else behind the gesture, simply testing the bounds of your experience. maybe there were some perks to getting folded and kneaded like pretzel dough on the nightly.

so engrossed in your little experiment, you hadn't noticed caleb in the bathroom doorframe watching you, amused. you greet him when he slides into the space behind you, rubbing his tousled hair as he drapes himself over your body.

"mornin' to you too. need some help?"

you shake your head, explain your situation as his arms snake around you, his palms playing with his shirt that you wore. there's a subtle sway to how he hugs you close, his lips comfortably pressed to your hair. his eyes still hazy with slumber that lingers at the crinkled edges, a smile on his mouth.

"told you spending time together has its perks. and, y'know," he starts, mischief creeping into his tone. "we never tried it in front of a mirror before."

he's kissing along your shoulder before you can reply, and his fingers squeeze between your thighs so easily that you can't argue about it being too early either.

versatile — but you will never know peace after the first time he worships you like a deity, all the while pressing you into the sheets to keep you grounded with a mere mortal like him.

[taifenggg]

hi! 🌷 i love your scenarios so i instantly came to rq here <3

could you write about mc and the brothers having possessive s3x for the first time? their relationship is relatively new and they did it a few times, but for some reason they got jealous and the way they deal with it is by having somewhat angry / possessive s3x with reader (which is very different from what they're used to do

for example: belphie is usually lazy or slow, satan is a gentleman and spends a lot of time on foreplay, reader notices how their usual this time is almost the opposite bc the brother in question is SO jealous

idk if it made sense </3 if writing the 7 of them feels too much for you, then would mammon + satan + barbatos be okay? they're my favorites!

have an amazing day btw i love your content

Content Warning(s): NSFW obviously LMAO, hairpulling(Lucifer, Belphie), semi-public(Mammon, Asmo), overstimulation(Satan), slight degradation(Belphie), not proofread LOL

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Barbatos

Authors Notes: hi there! i'm so flattered you love my writing, it means a lot! and dw I saw your other ask, so you're all good no worries about verification. nonnie, I'll do you one better and I ended up writing all the bros plus barbs as a bonus lol. enjoy!

nsfw under the cut! minors dni or i will block you :)

Reminder to abide by my guidelines for NSFW content tysm :]

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Lucifer [🦚💙]

Others keep occupying your time.

"Remind me again, who exactly do you belong to?"

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [💰💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

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[koralcove]

since it's established that caleb cooks for you (us/mc), imagine after reuniting with one another that he's noticed how thin you've gotten compared to when he last saw you. with the ongoing investigation about the aether core and grieving for your (supposedly) dead family, you haven't had time to take care of yourself well enough. you're mostly driven on energy via takeouts, eating out, and snacking for when you remember to take a break. and when he runs his thumb softly on your cheek, he can practically feel the comparison of how you've lost the chub on your face that he used to affectionately (and annoyingly, on your part) squeeze and pinch on. but it's nothing that he can't fix with spoiling you with his cooking. so every day, he makes it a mission to make time to cook your favourite meals and dishes that he knows you've missed since he'd been gone, and within a week, he can already see the plumpness of your cheeks taking shape to what he used to know. when you start to complain that your shorts seem a bit tight on you and you opt to borrow his shirts instead of wearing your usual ones, he takes pride in seeing the changes of your body becoming a bit pudgy in other places.

tonight, you're probably on your third round of eating. you'd told yourself yesterday that you'd hold back from eating too much ever since you noticed the slight fullness of your belly. you've noticed that your face has gotten a tad rounder, and you're aghast at just how much you've been consuming for only a week. you would've objected as caleb keeps asking if you want another round, but you didn't realise how much you've missed the taste of his cooking. the taste of home. and there's a part of you that's clutching onto the flavours as if it's the last meal you'll ever get from him. a part of you still finds it unbelievable that he's really here with you, right in the flesh, laughing and mussing on your hair. the familiar touch seems like a slap on your face that you find a prickling sensation at the back of your nose whenever the reality sets that... he's here. and he's home. you're home. you are both home.

noticing the faraway look on your eyes and the distracted movement of your utensils on your food, caleb pipes up. "you look like you're thinking too hard. had second thoughts about my cooking?"

you blink, snapping out of your glum musings and shaking your head. "no. just... thinking why you're feeding me so much. every day feels like a feast with how much you're cooking. i might have to buy new clothes, y'know."

caleb only smiles at your words, jabbing your forehead lightly with his finger. "well, it looks like you forgot to take care of yourself while i was gone. can't do anything without me, huh?"

you huff at the light teasing, taking a bite out of your food and looking down on your plate. your eyes might betray you. and you don't think you can handle the soft look he's giving you.

"but don't worry. your caleb is back, and i'm here to take care of my pip squeak. and what better way to start than to get some meat back on you." he grins.

you groan. "i'm going to eat less now, because at this point, you're the one who's taking me out of shape, and i'm blaming you if i fall behind with everyone when i suddenly become out of breath."

caleb only chuckles at you. "i think i'm just giving you more shape, if you ask me. and that wouldn't be so bad. that means i get to have more of you!" he squeezes your side affectionately, and you shy away from how ticklish you are, along with a small sense of insecurity bleeding through you. caleb doesn't miss your small scrunch of discomfort.

"you know i like you no matter what shape or form, right?" he pulls his chair closer to yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "and... there is a law about that, y'know?"

your brow furrows in confusion. "there is?"

he nods, a cheeky smile quirking on his lips. "yeah. "the greater the mass, the greater the force of attraction". so in other words, the more i plump you up, my attraction to you will keep increasing."

your mouth hangs at his words, and you playfully jab his side. "gē! you..."

he merely laughs, pinching on your cheek for extra measure. his glee is infectious that you can't help but break into a smile as well.

ah, caleb thinks, there's my girl.

can't get over that caleb is just basically packed into the law of gravitation. smartass would probably use that line to his advantage.