Malevola gibb - she does not lift bro

The late-afternoon sun spills through the bedroom window, casting warm, golden light across the floorboards where the heavy, sword lies right beside the bed. Malevola stands at the foot of the mattress, staring down at the massive weapon with her hands planted firmly on her broad hips. Her tail swishes near the wooden floor in a steady, frustrated rhythm as she rolls her shoulders back and loosens up her arms.

“Alright, let’s see if this stupid thing actually behaves itself this time,” she rumbles, her voice carrying a deep, relaxed drawl as she leans forward. “I mean, come on. It’s one thing to struggle with it during training, but having my own weapon sitting on the bedroom floor like an uninvited guest is just insulting.”

She plants her feet wide, leans down, and wraps both hands tightly around the heavy grip. Taking a deep breath, she hauls upward with everything she’s got, straining until her knuckles go white and her teeth grit tight. Her boots shift against the floorboards, but the blade stays stubbornly planted, barely budging an inch. She lets go with an exasperated groan, flopping back slightly and letting her arms dangle uselessly while she stares at the steel in sheer disbelief before turning her sharp yellow gaze over to where you are lying on your side on the bed.

“Yeah, nah, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters, throwing her hands up in the air as her pointed ears twitch back in sheer annoyance. “Look at this! It didn't even lift. I used to swing this monster around with one hand back when I was pulling heists, cutting open portals right through walls to drop in, snatch the loot, and pop back out. Now it’s sitting on the rug like it’s made of solid lead! Did you do something to it while I was away? Because there is no way I’ve gotten this weak. None at all.”

She huffs out a hot breath, crossing her broad arms tightly over her chest while her tail gives a series of sharp, agitated flicks. She paces a tight, heavy circle around the sword before stopping to shoot you a deeply suspicious, flustered look.

“Don’t you dare smile like that,” she grumbles, a faint flush creeping up her face as her eyes narrow. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can keep it to yourself. It’s not because I’ve been lying in this bed eating spicy tacos and fast food with you every single night! Food gives you strength! If anything, all those extra carbs should be turning me into a powerhouse. It’s just... well, maybe I’ve been taking it a bit too easy since I got dropped from the Phoenix Program. Ever since those useless higher-ups kicked me out and I moved in here with you, I haven't had a single reason to pull a massive blade out to slice a reality portal open. I’ve gone completely and utterly soft, haven't I?”

The defensive bite in her voice melts away, replaced by a rare, quiet vulnerability as she stops her pacing. She sighs heavily, climbing onto the mattress and sinking into the pillows right beside you. The bed dips under her broad, heavy frame as she settles right up against your side, bringing her intense, radiant warmth with her. Her tail winds its way under the blankets, curling snugly around your waist to drag you close while she rests her chin on your shoukser, looking down at the immovable sword on the floor.

Look at me, throwing a proper fit in our bedroom just because I can't lift my own blade. They booted me from the hero program, and now I'm just sitting here wanting to lie in bed and cuddle. She lets out a soft, crooked chuckle, nudging her shoulder gently against yours as her yellow, pupil-less eyes soften entirely. “Bloody ridiculous, isn't it? A big demon like me, rendered completely helpless because I got too comfortable lounging in bed with you all day. I suppose I can't even threaten to slice open a portal and go back to being a proper villain anymore.”

She leans in closer, resting her heavy forehead against your shoulder while her thumb traces slow, gentle circles against your side beneath the duvet. “Honestly... suppose it’s not the worst trade-off in the world, though. The Phoenix Program threw me away, but back when I was breaking into places and running from the law, I never had a nice, warm bed to come back to, or someone sitting here keeping me company when everything fell apart. If losing my edge means I get to stay wrapped up in these sheets with you... well, I reckon I can live with being a bit soft for a while. Thanks for putting up with me. Really.”

The ambient hum of the television fills the quiet bedroom, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the heavy sword still resting undisturbed on the rug beside the bed. Malevola is sitting on the edge of the mattress, her broad shoulders hunched over slightly as she frantically tries to shove a greasy, crumpled paper bag into the bottom of the trash bin beside the nightstand. The air is thick with the aroma of hot peppers, fried flour, and melted cheese, making her subtle cover-up attempt entirely useless. Her tail twitches nervously behind her, swinging in erratic flicks that knock against the bedframe before she freezes completely, realizing you’ve caught her dead in the act right before you were supposed to order dinner together.

“Yeah, nah, don't look at me like that, mate,” she mutters instantly, whipping her head around as her pointed ears flatten back in sheer embarrassment. She shoves the trash bin away, trying and failing to look completely innocent as she wipes a stray smudge of hot sauce from the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist. “I wasn't sneaking bugger-all! I was just... checking the quality of the local suppliers, alright? Making sure the bloody sauce wasn't watered down before we got our actual meal. It's called quality control, you paranoid bastard.”

She huffs out a breath, her bright yellow, pupil-less eyes narrowing as a faint, defensive flush creeps up her face. She folds her arms tightly across her chest, sitting back against the headboard as the mattress dips under her.

“Alright, fine! Fuck's sake, you caught me,” she grumbles, her voice dropping into a rough drawl as she shoots you an annoyed glare. “I got impatient, okay? I was sitting here waiting for you to finish up so we could order, and my bloody stomach started making noises like a portal opening up. I couldn't help it! I ordered a quick warm-up box of spicy tacos to tide me over, and now you're standing there judging me like I committed a federal crime. I spent half my life pulling violent heists and getting dropped from hero programs, so if I want to sneak a fucking taco in my own bedroom before dinner, I'm gonna do it!”

She stares at you for another second, her defensive posturing holding up until she catches the quiet, amused look on your face. Her stern expression cracks, a small, crooked smirk pulling at her lips as she lets out a low, defeated sigh.

Look at me, getting caught red-handed like a bloody amateur over a box of fast food. Absolutely pathetic. She shakes her head, reaching out with one hand to grab your wrist, her grip firm and possessive as she tugs you toward the bed without an ounce of hesitation. “Come here and stop grinning at me, you smart-ass. You think it's funny watching me struggle with my self-control, don't ya?”

She pulls you straight down into her lap, her tail immediately sweeping around your waist to lock you flush against her. Her hands slide down to grip your hips, her fingers digging in with a heavy, demanding pressure that leaves zero room for escape. “You're not getting off that easy, mate. Since you wanna sit there and judge my eating habits, you can deal with the consequences. I might be full of spicy tacos, but I'm still bloody starving for you, so put your phone down and give us a proper kiss before I lose my temper for real.”

The bedroom is quiet except for the quiet, rustling sound of fabric being pulled and stretched against its limits. Malevola stands near the edge of the bed, her breath coming in slow, heavy hitches as she attempts to pull on her white one-piece top. The fabric, once effortless to slide into, is stretched taut across her frame. Her lower torso and chest remain completely bare, exposed to the cool room air while she struggles to pull the material up past her middle. The lower thong section, designed to snap comfortably between her legs, won't even meet at the seam. Instead, a soft, prominent curve of her lower belly spills right through where the bottom section is supposed to latch, pressing outward against the white trim.

She stops completely, her hands hovering near the waistline as her bright yellow eyes fixate on her reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. Her tail hangs low behind her, completely still for once, lacking its usual impatient flick or lazy sway. She reaches down with two fingers, poking gently at the soft, extra weight resting over the lower band of the outfit. The stark contrast between the tight white material and her broad frame sits right in front of her, completely unavoidable.

“Yeah, nah...” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper, dropping into a flat, heavy drawl devoid of its usual sarcastic bite. She pokes her lower belly again, watching the soft give of her own weight in the mirror. “Look at this absolute state. What a bloody joke.”

She lets go of the fabric, letting her broad arms drop heavily to her sides. Her pointed ears droop back against her hair as she takes a slow, deep breath, her chest rising and falling as a sudden wave of quiet frustration washes over her. She stares at her reflection, her default stern expression melting into something far more defeated and guarded.

“I mean... look at it, mate,” she grumbles, her voice cracking just a fraction before she quickly clears her throat, trying to force a rough edge back into her tone. “I used to be a problem. A proper nightmare. People saw me coming and they knew they were in for a rough time. Now look at me. I can’t even pull on a basic piece of clothing without it looking like it’s about to burst at the seams. I’ve just been sitting around this house every single night, eating piles of tacos and fast food like some retired old couch potato, and it finally caught up with me.”

She turns her head slightly, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror as she looks toward where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. A faint, bitter flush rises on her face, her stubborn defensive walls immediately coming up to shield the sudden surge of vulnerability.

“Don’t say anything,” she warns quietly, though there’s no real heat behind the words. “I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna tell me it doesn't matter, or that I’m fine, or whatever polite bullshit you think I want to hear right now. But I’m not blind. The sword is sitting on the floor because I’m too bloody soft to lift it, the hero program kicked me out, and now I can’t even get dressed in my own room without my stomach hanging out of my clothes.”

She lets out a long, shuddering exhale, her shoulders sinking as she finally steps away from the mirror and walks over to the bed. She sits down heavily beside you, the mattress dipping under her broad frame as she rests her elbows on her knees. She looks down at her bare lap, her fingers idly tracing the tight white border of the one-piece where it sits tucked around her waist, still completely unbuttoned at the bottom.

Look at me, losing my mind over a pair of clothes. I survived violent heists, police chases, and getting dumped on dropping day, and now a piece of cloth is what breaks me. Absolutely pathetic. She shakes her head, a quiet, crooked sigh escaping her as her tail slowly curls around to rest near your foot on the floorboards.

“I just... I didn't think I’d let myself slide this far,” she says softly, her usual loud presence settling into a rare, solemn quiet. Her yellow, pupil-less eyes look up to meet yours, searching your face for any sign of judgment. “I spent my whole life being strong enough to handle everything on my own. Being tough was the only thing that kept me alive. And now... I’ve gotten so comfortable being here with you that I completely stopped paying attention to what was happening to me. It’s scary, mate. Feeling like you’re losing the only version of yourself you ever knew.”

Malevola sits on the edge of the mattress, the unfastened one-piece top still stretched tightly across her frame with her belly resting heavy against her bare thighs. She stares down at her lap, her tail completely limp behind her as a heavy, uncomfortable quiet fills the bedroom. The defensive bite is completely gone from her voice, replaced by a raw, uncertain vulnerability that makes her broad shoulders look surprisingly small.

“Yeah, nah... don’t just look at me,” she mutters softly, her yellow eyes flickering up to yours with a rare, hesitating look. “Be honest with me, mate. Am I... am I still sexy to you like this? Or am I just getting too bloody big?”

You don't bother answering with words. Instead, you drop down onto your knees right between her thighs, resting your hands gently on her knees before sliding them slowly up her soft, rounded middle. Malevola lets out a sharp, hitching breath as your hands cup the heavy curves of her belly, your fingers digging in with a deep, deliberate appreciation that leaves no room for doubt. Oh... fuck. Her pointed ears twitch as a dark, intense flush creeps up her face, her tail giving a sudden, heavy swish against the floorboards as your lips press against the exposed curve of her lower waist.

“Bloody hell,” she whispers, her voice dropping into a thick, gravelly drawl as her fingers tangle greedily into your hair, holding your face flush against her warmth. “You’re... you’re serious, aren’t ya? You actually want all of this.”

She leans back against the headboard with a low, vibrating groan, her broad hips tilting up into your touch as you shower her bare skin with slow, wet kisses. Her heavy frame relaxes into the mattress, all the anxiety and self-doubt melting away under the demanding pressure of your mouth. She grips your shoulders, pulling you up until your chest is pressed against hers, her yellow eyes burning down at you with a sudden, dark hunger. “Alright then, mate. If you reckon I’m still sexy... prove it to me. Don’t hold back.”

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