#gluttony with like half of them

[spiralocean]

favorite Jerma985 tweets in no particular order (3/?)

#i like to call this on 'seven deadly sins' edition #we got pride and envy in the tall men photoshop request #we got greed in the loot boxes one #lust with the tinder and ursla tweets #gluttony with like half of them #wrath in the gentle frisbee ps3 one #and finally sloth with the pants around ankles tweet #the outlier is the dearth vader one which is just unhinged #sorry bout the typos im not starting over lmao #jerma #jerma985

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

horny, sulky, kinda mean, kinda roughhousing könig thought bc it's my birthday, it's 2:50am, i have been horny like a fuckin werewolf for like a week now. f!reader ig for talk about pussy.

So our man König doesn’t keep normal hours—not that you do, but dude is two days back from KorTac and pretty much strung out on the “fun” amphetamines KorTac req officers pass out like candy if you even wave smth that looks like a form at them. So kind of out of the worst of it, exhausted, but wired and feeling kind of shitty and toothy and wound up.

He wants to fuck. Easiest way to diffuse, decompress, and he’s hard as shit by the time he lumbers his way into bed with you—over you—all around you. You were reading off your kindle, not anymore. He plucks that shit right out of your hand and puts it behind him, tangling those long, heavy limbs around you like a boa constrictor.

“Was wondering when this was going to happen,” you say, hissing when he’s none to kind in nipping the skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso, pushing your breasts up under your t-shirt. “Shit, you’re moody,” it’s half a laugh, and a grapple at not immediately just folding and giving into him. You like to bite, too.

“Give me your mouth,” he grunts, nose pushed into the spot behind your ear. He’s pushing down your underwear, singlemindedly stripping you down. His words make your skin humid, “Gonna play with your pussy, want you fucking wet for me.”

You give that little bit, turning your head over your shoulder, smirking into a kiss that drives deliriously deep as soon as contact is made. König isn’t a prim kisser, but a primal one. It’s not a clean act; sloppy, yes, and somehow tinged with something kin to restrained violence. Challenge? Dick swinging? Maybe something more biblical in nature—gluttony, or greed.

He’s a fearsome thing, and he may only be beautiful to you. A needful thing, too, twisting nest of starved serpents—6 feet 10 inches and pushing-300-lbs of fucking muscle, battering-ram-body housing more than thirty years of neglect-crushed memory out for retribution.

But you never were a target. He didn’t have a choice in that matter. You both know good and goddamned well that you picked him. Everything he gets away with is at your allowance, and good fucking Christ, he loves you for it.

His cock throbs against your bare ass through his boxers as his arm wraps around you, craning his hand to pump two big fingers into your sopping cunt, angling his wrist so he can press and rub your clit with his thumb.

Man’s got his perversions, and he’s the most physical person you’ve ever met in your life. He’s had a fraction of the sex he’s fantasized about, but you’ve covered hectares of that ground since you’ve gotten together. He’s a quick study, and his mind’s a nightmare of steel trap memory. He never forgets what you like.

Two fingers turn to three, and he almost pushes it to four—assured torture, too much stretch too fast—before you snap a hand around his wrist and buck hard back against him, seething his name in warning. “Don’t fucking dare.”

“Ja. Ja, Schatzi,” he mumbles, breathing hard and too collected. You’re both sweating already, and the bed feels too damn warm, but neither of you shift. The spooning position is perfect as-is, only needs acted upon. In the mean time, he draws his slicked fingers up, leaving them in the air before your mouth in question. He groans and shudders harshly when you take the digits into your mouth, almost laughing at the ever-fresh amusement of your own taste. Salt and cold coins, your own metallic tang a complement to the one on his skin. His voice shakes as he warns, “Time, now. It’s time, bitte, aw, fuck.”

Just like that, he sinks right into you, to the base, balls pressed tight against your lips due to your body’s contortioning to meld against his form. An ungodly moan bellows out of his throat, rattling from his chest into yours, arms tightening around you. You meet the fuck-weird noises, turning your head to keen into your pillows and pressing back against him. Your hand anchors behind you on his hip, as if pinning him in place, affixing your bodies together.

You both hang in a moment of suspension, hearts pounding, minds blank, stomachs rising as if careening over a hill with momentum not sparing you a moments reprieve.

When that finally snaps, you have to force him to focus, to fuck, and he’s slow about it, grinding into you as your cunt sucks him deeper.

That huge hand you know so well drops between your legs, right back to toying with you. Oh it doesn’t take long to get you off, bent in half on your side, holding onto him and gasping as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure.

He’s not subtle to signal when it’s his turn. He pulls you back up and clamps his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard through the fabric of your shirt, fucking you rough, now, and unheeding, like an animal in heat. When he finally finishes, spasming and jolting all over now that his balls have been emptied into you, he leaves his heavy arm over your waist, keeping you close. “Good shit,” he mumbles, throat sticking to itself it’s so dry as he pants, parched, “we split a smoke?”

You’re not much better, even though you’ve bravado to fucking spare. “I smoke. You go the hell to sleep now,” you try to sound stern and dismissive, but there’s a laugh in your tone some place. And fondness, undeniably. You feel his grin against your neck, his body purring mhm in question. “Feel better?” you ask, at length, stroking the hair on his forearms.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, weak and sweet with relief, “can sleep now.” A pause, you can hear him thinking. “Won’t, though. Because you were an asshole and had to bring it up first.” His laugh wheezes, low and susurring.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #teehee and as usual it's just my oc dressed up as a reader yall know the drill by now

[littlebigmouse]

List of Small Things™ I enjoy about Fullmetal Alchemist in no particular order

Everyone in FMAB/manga is just Some Guy™ and very human and I love that so here goes:

Falman getting stuck with a serial-killing suit of armor in his appartment for days and his reaction to it. It may have been weeks. He's been on sick leave the entire time. He's a guy in his early thirties with a flock of early-greying hair because being in a dead-end-role in the military is stressfull, ok. He gets stuck at home with a funny little serial killer (and eventually some foreign body guards, and a foreign prince?? lighting signal fires in his backyard?? like man what a week)

The whole military ambush against the Devil's Nest was yes, kind of kickstarted by the gang kidnapping Al for Greed, but it was mostly kickstarted because Ed was down south to do his yearly official report and Bradley and Armstrong just happened to be present when he was informed Al had gone missing. Greed's entire operation was done in by a teen doing his paperwork

on that note, Greed really decided to spend his immortality wisely by pursuing absolutely none of his supposed ambitions and just decided to settle down with a bunch of buddies. An offshot of the buddies he was initially made to guard, too. I don't think Greed is aware of this either

everyone on that radio building. The radio host 100% down to get some coup-shenanigans into his station to drive engagement. The guys sympathising with Mrs Bradley and taking care of her. Breda taking control of the narrative with a perpetual frown by the skin of his teeth.

I know the story of how the Bradleys met is technically not canon(?) but Mrs Bradley slapping her future husband upon their first meeting because he got his flirting tips from his siblings will never not be funny. Idiots. All of them.

EVERYTHING about Darius and Heinkel. They lost their jobs and became wanted criminals upon helping out some scrawny 15 year old. They have families they miss dearly. They haven't looked back since. "You guys don't HAVE to help me save the world" - "It's not like we have anything better to do"

i was going to say the Ice Cream Truck, because it's iconic, but actually, when told to disguise a vehicle, 15-year-old pinacle of edgelord fashion Edward Elric turned it into a colourful nightmare of spikes that barely resembled a car but might be closely related to the worlds deadliest parade float. None of this was necessary. Ed is just like that.

Hawkeye growing her hair out after meeting Winry, and Winry getting piercings after seeing Hawkeye's

Denny Brosh bursting into tears when he sees Maria Ross is still alive. Dude managed to not quit his job despite working in the same city (department?) where his best friend's killer was his supervisor. They were also very real for showing us that this is a guy who oversleeps and is older brother to at least three younger siblings. There was no need to give us more on Denny Brosh but every little detail hit so hard when they reunited.

okay so remember that time Ed and Ling ate Ed's shoe. Remember that Ed spend some time on a "deserted island" as a kid. Gluttony's stomach had nothing on him. Izumi raised some anime-ass boy-scouts. 100% Farm boy behaviour. These kids are so 15 it makes me want to bite things

immortal, soul-spliced dwarf in a flask got rid of his Sloth and still managed to procrastinate on his world domination plan until the last minute. Most Human disaster.

the entire half-episode they spend on Dr. Knox and his regrets and family. FMA is so good about humanising everyone.

everyone bullied Yoki because he was a small town fraud exploiting workers for his own benefit. Simply a jerk. He also hit Pride with a car in an epic rescue, and cried and screamed the whole way through

that one shot of a kid curiously poking a soldier they found bound on the ground with a stick

(I know it's technically not canon, but-) "I'm trying to save your life, asshole!"

Edward Elric

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #fmab meta #of course there are more #'it's not like they have a tank or something- fuck'

[corollaservant]

✮ 18+,f!reader✮

It was you who suggested it. You had stumbled across something posted online (a suggestive art shot to be precise) and wanted to try it out with him so you told him. It wasn’t like you had the biggest tits in the world but couldn't friction be caused anywhere with a little hand help?

‘’I want you to fuck my tits’’ you blurted out and his gaze lifted from his phone as he chuckled.

‘’Babe.. what?’’ he awkwardly moved on the couch, crossing legs and trying to concentrate on what you just asked. It wasn’t like he didn’t think of your tits often, soft and plush, small enough to fit in his large palms, nipples in his mouth or planting soft kisses on your areola and pinching them to tease you. He basically loved your tits but a titfuck had honestly never really crossed his mind. He felt his cock jump at the idea but maintained composure.

‘’Pleaseee baby’’ you whined as you got closer. ‘’Let’s try this one out ‘kay?’’ as you took him by surprise, climbing on his lap and straddling what felt like a poke under your pants. Was he seriously half hard already? You smiled as you connected your mouth to his, sloppy kisses, you were so greedy, so eager to have him between your tits and salivating just at the thought. While there wasn't much in for you, you secretely got off on his reactions. His hands cupped your ass as you rode over his straining sweatpants, biting his bottom lip and pulling at it.

‘’B-baby..’’ he breathed out, he fucking loved it when you were so sexually aroused that you took over and while often asserting dominance, this side of yours was overwhelming. His cock was already leaking pre, this was the effect you had on him. 

You took your shirt off, exposing your soft pretty tits and he hungrily averted his gaze from your mouth, your hips working their way on his cock- now lined up with your soaked panties, creating a friction enough to make you cum as he brought his palms to cup both boobs leaving intermediate kisses. You shuddered from pleasure. 

‘’Mhmm, feel good princess?’’ he asked you, softly moaning himself, he loved making a mess out of you and being the one to ignite lewd thoughts from you like this.

‘’M-more..licking..baby’’ you panted, needing his saliva on you to accommodate his dick. 

He put your breast in his mouth, making sure to leave enough saliva to spill from his mouth (it came automatically from his gluttony impatience) and fall somewhere between your legs as you gripped his hair and let out a nasty moan.

At this point his cock was aching, almost asphyxiating in his own pants as you continuously grinded on him so he got up and carried you to the bed while removing his own stained sweatpants (of course he had to wear grey and stain it with his pre.)

‘’You really wanna do this?’’ he asked you, his gaze on your eyes as you looked at him expectantly, head resting on the bed frame. 

‘’Yes..come here baby’’ you signaled for him to come close, his pretty tip shiny from the precum smeared around it, long veins pulsating on the sides, as it sat upright on his lower abdomen. You clenched around nothing, he was so pretty. 

He climbed on top of you, advancing closer to your chest and face and positioned his bulge between your boobs, right above your sternum. He could feel the cooling and slippery sensation almost as an interoception, better yet multi sensored, his dick’s pulse and your skin’s heat as he thrusted towards your face and hissed.

‘’Fuuuck’’ he moaned as your hands came to push your boobs to envelop his long dick, applying pressure on the poor throbbing veins as you looked at him. ‘’This feels so fucking good b–baby’’ he panted as he rutted on your chest, you had to bring your legs under him in one place, pressing them tightly together as he whimpered atop you, a sight for sore eyes.

You took the opportunity to run your tongue swiftly across the tip each time he rubbed on you, collecting a small glob of spit and letting it slowly fall onto the mess happening in your chest...spit, pre and sweat but it was so rewarding the way he crumbled.

‘’S-shit baby fuck I’m.. want me to come on your t-tits?’’ he whined as he picked up the pace, grabbing your breasts himself and harshly squeezing the fat with his palms.

You didn’t bother replying, he already knew he could use your body whichever way he wanted, your hand on your folds, splitting them apart to run a finger over your mess, playing with the nub and slowly humming.

His angry cockhead slammed against your chin and he watched you sloppily spit and pant, the sight was too much alone but the sensory feeling of your pretty nipples next to his cock did it for him, a look in your eyes and nasty mouth the last thing he saw before cumming.

‘’S-shit..baby..agh..fuuck.. I- ‘s too good.. ’’ he whined, spurts hitting everywhere but your chest and sniffing his nose like a scolded child. He looked at the mess he painted on your face and laughed out of breath, he knew soon enough bruises would surface on your poor tits. 

‘’I should listen to your ideas more often.’’ he said on his way to get you tissues. 

Gojo, Geto

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto smut #gojo smut #jjk drabbles #corollaservant

[atticsandwich]

out of focus, eye to eye

pairing: beelzebub / gn! reader (mc)

fluff, the slightest of tension, food + you = a happy demon

The times Beel shows his love for you, not through words, but in the little things you didn't think he would notice.

(He does.)

happy birthday beel and belphie 🥹 i only had enough brain juice to write for one twin, i'll make it up to you soon bel, i promise

—

11:59.

You didn't usually crave for something to eat at the dead of night, especially with how hearty some dinners at the House of Lamentation can be. Today was no exception; Leviathan as the designated cook of the day laid out an entire spread of dishes from an anime he's been watching recently, his dedicated effort paying off with an across-the-board commendable feast.

Really, you had no business still being hungry after everything you ate, but your growling stomach commands otherwise.

"There should still be some leftover doughnuts from yesterday..." you think to yourself as you close the door of your room. Thankfully, the kitchen's right next door, but that also means you immediately notice the tell-tale signs of a very awake, very hungry demon.

"There goes my doughnuts..." a tragedy, considering nothing is safe when the Avatar of Gluttony is in one of his midnight fridge raids.

"Hm? Oh, you're awake. Were you hungry too?" you must've been standing there for quite a while now for Beel to notice you, as he waves and motions for you to come closer.

"Sort of, yeah," you reply, walking to his side. "Got anything for me?"

Wordlessly, considering he just shoved an entire cupcake in his mouth— sorry Asmo— he points to a familiar box towards the side.

"...Doughnuts? I thought you've eaten them by now," you say, pleasantly surprised. Taking the box from the fridge, you take a seat by the demon's side. Upon opening, you notice that although it was indeed already eaten from, two of the same ones were left as is.

"Hm...? These are..."

"They're your favorite kind, so I made sure to save them for you," Beel says it so nonchalantly, immediately resuming his fridge raid, but you can't help the butterflies that start twirling in your belly, hunger almost dissipated.

Taking a bite, you finally relish in fulfilling your sudden craving. A few more and half a doughnut's left, and you realize that Beel switched to looking at you eat, a fond smile in his face. You couldn't help but fluster at the attention, averting your gaze away from his.

"...You have some crumbs around your mouth," before you could say anything in reply, he takes his thumb and wipes the side of your lip, his eyes on you the entire time. You muttered a shy 'thank you' before he takes his own thumb to his mouth, clearing off the crumbs that were on yours.

"...Mmm, I get why they're your favorite. It's really good."

—

Lunchtime at R.A.D can sometimes be a life-or-death affair, especially when the cooks decide to put their best foot forward for the day. Today was one of those days— with a today's menu spread rivalling that of Ristorante Six, you can almost feel the overflowing anticipation seconds before the bell rings.

5 seconds...

At this point, nobody's listening to the professor, but the fidgeting figures of students eager to dash out is quite a sight.

3 seconds...

Being human meant being at a disadvantage, you thought. Yes, your magical prowess is pretty prominent, but the average demon can still physically overpower any regular human.

1 second...

"Hey, did you want to eat out for lunch today?"

Beel's voice overtakes the blaring of the lunch bell, demons of all sizes rushing immediately towards the cafeteria. In the distance, you see Mammon's figure scrambling and slinking his way throught the crowd like a little snake— smart.

Yeah, there's no hope for you out there today.

"That sounds nice actually," you sigh wistfully. Maybe next time, after you get some wrestling pointers from Beel.

"Hell's Kitchen has some really good deals for lunch today, plus they have a new dish I really wanna try," you walk out the room with the demon, already daydreaming of his lunch spread.

"Don't worry. Next time, I'll carry you on my shoulders so we can run through the lunch crowd together," he must've noticed how you were staring at the cafeteria earlier. You gave him a reassuring smile, as if telling him you're fine.

"Thanks, Beel. But you're capable enough as is now, so... don't you want to try the chef specials today?"

"Well, yes, but I could always do that another time. I'd rather eat lunch with you," the earnesty in his voice gave you butterflies again, and you hope you're hiding how flustered you are now sufficiently.

"...I'd rather eat lunch with you too, Beel."

He hums happily in response, taking your arm on his own. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and you give him a squeeze back.

—

Sorcerer training days with Solomon varied in difficulty each week; sometimes you two would simply brew a bunch of potions together, while other times he'd have you cast a variety of spells in succession, often resulting in you tiring out your magic reserves.

Unfortunately for you, today was spell day.

You almost always came home late during these kinds of days too— which meant dinner was usually done by the time you got home. You usually didn't mind, as it also meant the house was a lot more quiet, with the brothers all retreating to their rooms for their end-of-the-day routines. After grabbing a quick bite to eat, you head to your room, fully prepared to just collapse in bed.

Weird— was my room this tidy when i left this morning?, you wondered, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? Your study area was organized, the room smelt like fresh linen and citrus, and your bed—

Ah.

Beel has his head laid on your mattress while seated on the floor, letting off the smallest of snores. You let out an endeared sigh, approaching the large demon, analyzing his face as he slept before you gently tapped his shoulders to try wake him up. The demon grumbles in response, eventually slowly opening his eyes. When he finally notices you, he opens them fully, before pulling you down for a hug.

"You're back," you can feel him smile in the embrace. Although tired, you try to return the hug as best you can.

"Were you the one who cleaned my room?"

"Yeah," he nods in confirmation. "You looked more tired recently, so I wanted to help out. But, uh... I think I got some crumbs on the floor from eating while I was waiting for you. Sorry..."

You laugh again, pulling the both of you up from the floor to sit on the bed.

"Thank you, Beel. That was very thoughtful of you," you give his nose a little peck, and it's adorable the way he hums happily in response, clearly content with your satisfaction (and kiss). You sometimes wonder what you did to deserve someone like Beel, but then again, if you told your younger self the life you're living now, you'd probably look at yourself crazy.

"Well, since you're already here and I woke you up, let's just sleep together," you suggest, patting on the opposite side of your bed as an invitation. It's amazing how those string of words instantly light up his face.

"Really?" he asks, although he's already walking to the other side of the bed, already accepting the invite.

Quickly changing into your sleep clothes, you dive into bed right next to him, his arms open and ready to slot you in. You fit in his hold just right, and you inhale the distinct scent of wood and vanilla— which, coupled with how one of his hand is softly stroking the back of your head, quickly lulls you into comfort, your eyes starting to droop.

"G'night Beel," you say, sleepily.

"Goodnight," he returns, before leaning down to plant a small kiss on the crown of your head, and another on your forehead.

As you finally succumb to the world of dreams, the last thing you hear a small hum and a whisper of "I love you."

Tomorrow, you'll say it back to him first thing in the morning.

—

tags: @insomniachox

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me shall we date #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me x reader #beel x reader #beelzebub x reader #obey me nightbringer

[gambleofstars]

Electrician Reader as Vox’s Assistant (Pt. II)

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ gambleofstars is typing ... ₎

↳ ❝ [a/n: i’m on a roll, expect a third part also haha, i kind of love this concept to be honest, not to mention i work an office job too so, pretty relatable to me. also minor content warning for smoking, but it's just casual, really] ¡! ❞

Part I

⋆♡* In fact, you liked hell, because people were much less judgmental.

⋆♡* In the overworld, your coworkers would judge you for every move. You were polite? You were a suck-up. You were cold? You were rude. You were professional? You were distant. So when you started calculating your every move? You were scheming.

⋆♡* But here? Your scheming qualities were greatly appreciated and utilized.

⋆♡* Your boss would let you stay in the conference room for business holder meetings. He doesn’t want you to know, but Vox definitely observed your reactions during these meetings. Every twitch of your brow and rolling of eyes you thought went unnoticed, were important.

⋆♡* And having a boss who sees your abilities is a sure way of making a loyal employee. Maybe this was also scheming on Vox’s part but hey, who judges who in hell?

⋆♡* If Vox’s honest, the 8am coffee and your faint groan of annoyance at his client was a bit of a highlight of his day, if you will.

⋆♡* He has to listen to either: boring meetings or other vees’ tantrums every day, so your small presence is welcome as a solidarity of someone seeing what he has to deal with.

⋆♡* (Even though his own hissy fits are no less ridiculous and much more dangerous)

⋆♡* You do get bonuses for putting up with them though. Don’t be mistaken, this is a business transaction, after all.

⋆♡* Sometimes though, you wonder who he was on earth? Or if you crossed paths in any way. You get this sentimental feeling at times that you can never explain…

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

“FUCK!” Vox exclaims as he slumps down on his desk (?) chair after raging about the PR management team messing up their work. Yet again. At this point, his bowtie is all messed up and his button-up is half wrinkled.

He’s still seething, but you can see the anger is slowly sizzling out. Good, you were really not in the mood for playing therapist this evening. You already had a long day of sorting out the PR nightmare that is Valentino’s social media (which was partially the reason for Vox’s current exhaustion).

Usually, you’d listen to Vox yap about 99 problems in his vicinity. Let him let it out and then distract him with an upcoming business opportunity - kinda dealing it like you would with a teenager.

For some reason though, this evening the soft breeze coming through the open windows of the office and purple dust color of the hell’s sky, you felt an olive branch form in your heart.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

It always worked for you. After the stress of sorting out numerous affairs for the Vees (primarily your boss), a cigarette felt like a piece of heaven, really. So, why not? Bonding time with your boss or whatever.

He eyes your outstretched hand that’s holding a pack of Malborry Red (delivered straight from the gluttony ring); he seems almost suspicious, which makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry boss, drugs is Mr. V’s style. This is just tobacco”

“Fuck it”

He grabs the cigarette out of the pack and sighs like a single dad of 50 kids. Before you can laugh at this pathetic little man, you get out your lighter and light the cig up as courtesy, seeing as you’re the one who offered it.

There’s a tense moment when he just looks at you. You don’t know what he’s thinking at times and this is one of them. It bothers you a bit, like you can’t read an open book.

Either way, when he takes the first drag, he slowly goes to lean over the balcony railing with his elbows as you light your own stick. You don’t join him though.

Both of you stay silent in the comfort of an otherwise empty wing. The only noise is from the city down below and the quiet whirring of Vox’s fans to filter out the nicotine-filled smoke.

It’s kind of relaxing, in all honesty.

“Maybe I should just jump off here” he says out loud. The casual tone makes you scoff with amusement as you join him on the balcony as well. You stay close to the door though.

“Please think of the company’s integrity sir” you remind him, taking a drag of your own cigarette “Also, you can’t really die here. There are 75 electricians and technicians on standby at all times.”

Vox groans and puts the screen of his head down onto his forearm, his cigarette hanging off the 50 story building with just his two fingers as a safety measurement.

“Then maybe I’ll go out of commission for a week and ignore everything and everyone for once” he concludes with the same casuality.

“You need to be present at the shareholders meeting tomorrow afternoon or it won’t commence” you explain, honestly a bit delighted in deliberately pissing him off.

“You go do it then”

“No thank you”

Another sigh and a comfortable silence. You’d think Vox fell asleep if his fans weren’t still whirring. Even though feeling pity for the rich is a bit ridiculous, you find yourself approaching him and leaning with your back on the railing.

“Tell you what boss, I think you need to present the angelic security plan by tomorrow at 4:45” you suggest, eyeing his reaction.

He looks up at you a bit confused “Right after the meeting?”

You chuckle a bit mean-spirited “What are they gonna do? Leave?”

He picks up at what you’re putting down and a wicked smile crosses his face “So that means I won’t have any meetings until Friday”

You pick up an ashtray on the coffee table next to you and hold it out for him. But seeing as he doesn’t even notice how his cig is burning away as he plans his Thursday, you pluck it out of his hands to put it out for him.

It’s almost laughable how perplexed he looks, but you resist as you put your own stick out too and place the tray back down.

“Do you need me to plan anything for Thursday sir?”

“Do you think on earth we ever crossed paths?”

Well that was out of the blue “I don’t know sir, never thought about it” that’s a lie, you’ve thought about it every time you left the office with a feeling of deja vu.

“Whatever, who gives a shit” he said, aloof and walked back into his office “You’re more useful as my assistant down here anyway”

Maybe. Not like your life was any less stressful on earth, right? (please, do note the sarcasm).

Still, watching your boss blow up like a bomb every other morning was enough entertainment to make this job amusing.

Not to mention, on earth, this fleeting moment of fondness never crossed your heart. How ironic that you find the most vulnerable part of yourself in the flaming pits of hell filled with sinners alike you.

Maybe that’s why. The fact that you found someone who can keep up the pace with your deliberate chess-piece kind of thinking with no guilt, is a bit of a blessing in disguise.

How a string of your heart happily tugs at his victories.

You won’t let him know that though.

i'm really liking writing out my office work frustrations in these small drabbles ahaha >:) anyway, my request box is open if you wanna drop by :) <3

signing off, gambi 💋

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #the vees

[epigstolary]

Lecture

TW: References to medical fatphobia and health conditions.

Your eyes dart nervously back and forth, from one side of the lecture hall to another. Surely they’re not going to see you like this and just sit there? Surely someone is going to step in and help?

But your hopes are disappointed. You’re met, to the extent the audience looks you in the eyes at all, with blank or half-bored stares. The uncaring look of people who see you and the half-ton of lard filling your body as a technical exercise, and little more. The lecture drones on next to you, and after a few minutes, you’re finally able to focus on what’s being said.

“…recall that yesterday’s subject exhibited signs of severe morbid obesity with excessive deposits of adipose tissue almost exclusively at the anterior abdomen. Today’s subject, by contrast—” at this, you feel the lecturer’s gloved hand grasp one of your bulging love handles, squeeze a solid handful, and lift as he continues “—supplements this distribution with deposits throughout the inguinal, gluteal, and posterior thigh regions, and to a lesser extent, in the pectoral and inframammary regions.” You feel one of your tits being lifted as the lecturer holds it in the palm of their hand, pointing out further details with the other. “So as you see, adipose distribution can vary significantly, based on a number of factors…”

The audience continues listening and taking notes. Occasionally, you see two of its white-coated members whisper to each other, gesturing at some point or other on your expansive body. Your mind wanders from the lecture again, and you begin to look around the room, to the extent the restraints on your bariatric exam chair allow. Despite the audience’s lack of direct attention to you, you’re keenly aware of how exposed and on display you are.

The angle of the chair allows your wide, doughy belly to spill down your lap and between your knees. It spreads your lumpy, shapeless legs into a split that leaves the bulging sacs of fat on your thighs and calves in full view. Likewise, because of the backward tilt of the seat, your head is also tilted back, bringing your chin level with your triple chins and emphasizing them along with your wobbly cheeks and jowls. Restraints tie your arms against padded extensions on either side of the main chair, holding them in a T-pose that causes the flab on your forearms to hang down in puckered globs and the bulk on your upper arms to pool around your shoulders, further squeezing the fat around your face. It’s a position in which, if there were any doubt, you’re shown off as the thoroughly, completely, and probably irrevocably fattened blob you are.

Eventually, the display screens on either side of the hall catch your eye — specifically, the unfamiliar shape appearing next to some inscrutable pixelated numbers in black and white. Then, suddenly, something in the lecture strikes you and the image clicks into stark comprehension.

“…86% body fat, with the result that additional strain on the musculoskeletal structure produces the characteristic bend in the vertebral column to compensate…”

The ill-defined shape on the screen, viewed through the lens of an MRI machine, is a person — is you. You knew you were huge, of course, but your breath catches in your throat to see your gluttony presented in this way — the cross-section showing the muscles and organs and skeleton of a normal person, but floating, buried, smothered in a sea of white-yellow tissue, spreading out shapeless in all directions. Hundreds of pounds of fat, dominating your body, captured with the indisputable precision of medical imaging. You are an anomaly. A curiosity. A pathology. A disease, needing to be treated.

You barely have time to process all of this before you feel two attendants beginning to undo the restraints holding back your arms and legs. You feel your feet spring forward slightly, no longer held down and now pushed out by the bulk of the fat hanging off your calves and thighs. Your arms fall immediately to your sides — or, at least, as close to your sides as the tremendous piles of rolls fighting your bingo wings and forearm flab for space will allow. You slide down from the tilted half-chair/half-gurney to a standing position, and feel a hot ache radiate through you, your body crying out at your full weight being put on your frame for the first time in a long time.

“We’ll see if we can get a demonstration of mobility. Clearly, physical activity isn’t this subject’s strong suit.” A stifled but derisive laugh ripples through the audience at this first flush of color commentary from the lecturer. You turn to look at the lecturer, standing at the lectern, and they gesture to the far side of the hall. A set of double doors, wide enough for you to go through, with a bright “Exit” sign above them, stand about thirty yards away.

Is this it? Are you free to go? After being fattened and poked and prodded for so long, are they finally going to let you just walk out?

You have to try. Slowly, deliberately, and with a shock of pain at every step, you lift your blubber-laden legs one at a time, putting your bare foot down with a wet-sounding plop, as you work your way closer to the door. You look around from the door to the audience to the attendants, eyes widened almost to the point of panic. You see all the audience now paying close attention to you, many of them looking back with genuine surprise, apparently somewhat impressed to see a person as fat as a small cow able to walk at all. But seeing nobody move to stop you as you continue your degrading waddle forward, you try to pick up the pace. Your flabby arms swing in a wide circle, trying to counterbalance the movement of the vast bulk hanging off your midsection, the belly and tits and side rolls wobbling chaotically with each step forward.

“As you can see, mobility is diminished as a result not just of the added weight, but also the severe limitations on range of motion caused by the excess adipose tissue.”

Barely halfway toward the door, you can hear the sound of your heart beating over the drone of the lecture, pounding as if it’s about to burst out of your chest. Sweat dims your eyes, and the heat radiating from your body — but, it feels like, especially from your florid face — makes you realize how fatigued you already are from walking just this limited distance. Walking this distance — but with an extra eight hundred pounds or so more than you’re used to, you think to yourself.

“Note, too, the compounding effect of the excessive weight and the lack of resiliency in the subject’s cardiovascular and respiratory systems due to a prolonged deficit in physical activity. Blood pressure and body temperature rise precipitously, stamina diminishes, breathing becomes labored, blood oxygen plummets. Hence, the elevated risk of cerebrovascular accident, embolism, myocardial infarction…”

You barely have the energy to feel angry at the lecturer’s patronizing indifference by the time you reach the door. Breathing ragged, soaked with sweat, barely able to concentrate and on the verge of collapse, you stumble into a lean against the door frame, desperate to catch your breath so you can finish your escape. It’s right there — you can reach out and touch the push bar, hear what sounds like street noise outside — but your body won’t let you. Your clouded mind won’t focus, your bloated legs won’t lift, your wobbling arms hang limp by your heaving, flabby chest. Exhaustion and despair rise within you in equal measure as you hear the gurney chair being rolled across the room, feel your body being jiggled and manhandled back into a sitting position, and see the exit doors and all hope of help receding as you’re rolled back to center stage, defeated.

Numb and indifferent now, you offer no resistance, sensing the tube and mask being fitted into your mouth as if watching it happening to someone else from a distance. You utter little more than an involuntary groan of complaint or protest — it doesn’t concern you, any more than does the flow of something cold you can feel pooling in your stomach.

“…typical example has a maximum capacity of barely two to four liters. However, consistent overfeeding with a diet that includes a sufficient volume of fiber at appropriate intervals has demonstrated the ability to reliably expand stomach volume to a maximum capacity of 14-16 liters, with p of .05 in our internal studies…”

The sound of the lecture flows past you, mixing with the buzz of the pump filling you with more and more of the chilly slop, and the low creak of the gurney as it takes the added weight. Your eyelids droop, drowsy with the food and your exertions; and you drift away to sleep, the gaze of the audience trained on the slow, relentless expansion of your tumescent belly the last thing you see before your tired eyes close shut.

Credit to the incomparable Mairari/@hyenaddict for the original post that inspired this story

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #gainer stories #weight gain story

[devilmen-collector]

Hello, i read your drabble with the kings when they catch you watching Super Sentai. Now Can I request how about them(the kings+Minhyeok(optional)) catch you watching animals documentary LOL

Thank you💙

Of course LOL

*Sir David Attenborough's voice narrating in the background*

Kings + Minhyeok catch Reader watching animal documentary 🐘

Satan

(What could be better than watching animal documentary, especially one about wild cats, while having a cat's sunny fur smell in the background. It adds to the immersion /hj)

At first, you were too absorbed in the documentary to realize the cat sunny fur smell in the air wasn't something you imagined from watching animal documentary too much.

However, when the scene of two animal fighting over mate/territory was shown, you could hear a small laugh beside, half pleasant half snickering.

"Satan!!!!" You shouted.

"As I thought, you always watch interesting thing, Y/N."

Now you were left puzzled with what Satan found interesting in an animal documentary. Was it because the animals were beautiful and majestic? No that couldn't be it. Or was it because since animals always follow their instinct, they are similar to devils in a way, because devils are honest with themselves and their desires. Oh great, now all you brain wants to think about is sex.

Damnit, Satan!

Mammon

You didn't hear Mammon coming, when you realized that he was in the room with you, you were already being moved. The King of Greed set you sitting on his lap, leaning you on his firm chest.

"Isn't this more comfortable, Master?" He said, making you flustered and more focused on him than on the documentary.

"Master, if you love these animals so much, I could catch them and bring them to you so you could admire them more closely." You heard Greed said and immediately reacted and gave him a lecture on how that would affect negatively on the wild animals, to which Mammon agreed and said:

"Ah yes, those animals are best not imprisoned inside a cage, just like how certain treasures shine most when they are free."

Leviathan

Each time Leviathan heard the world "great", "noble", "majestic", "beautiful", etc that the narrator used to describe the animal and saw you focusing on the screen, he scowled. Is he not greater, more noble, more majestic and more beautiful than those wild beasts? So Y/N, you should look at him instead of those animals.

"Hang."

Beelzebub

"Oh those animals look delicious." The King of Gluttony put his chin on your head as he commented, half-jokingly.

"Bell, no eating these animals, okay? This species is at risk of being extinct."

"Really? But there are hundreds of them..."

"Bell!!!"

"Alright, alright, I got it, no eating them if you say so." Bell said and winked.

Minhyeok

"Finally, you are watching something else beside porn, Y/N."

"Hey, it's not like porns are all I watch." You protested as Minhyeok laughed. Nevertheless, he decided to sit down and watch the documentary with you, which made you remember the wonderful childhood you two shared before the death of your parents. You couldn't help but being grateful of Minhyeok for being with you all the way, through all the ups and downs of your life.

I hope you like it 💙

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb drabble #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb beelzebub #whb minhyeok #whb headcanons

[libraincarnate]

astrology notes: 2 🌱

𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a culmination of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experience. above all this is just for fun.

lastly, these may or may not apply to you but you might find something to be true about your friends, family, or lover. enjoy!

𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱

🕊 gemini in the 1st house:

curious about yourself and wanting to understand yourself. you like learning about yourself and may enjoy self-improvement. wanting to know why you like/do this and that. quick to notice something new about yourself like a new interest, hobby, desire, style, physical change, habit, and personality trait.

scorpio in the 1st house:

there is no point in hiding from yourself. the pain, traumas, things of the past, your dark side, fears, all these things are brought to the surface so that you can see and deal with them. this is needed to bring about the transformation. to shed the old skin.

capricorn in the 1st house:

confronting yourself. your flaws, your bad traits, the choices you made, what areas you lack discipline, being hard on yourself, being aware of your strengths and weaknesses. it causes you to be honest with yourself. to reflect on yourself, to be and do better. 

^ having one of the 3 placements above can make someone very self aware and introspection can one of their strengths.

🕊 positive aspects between asteroid kiss (8267) and venus: being a good kisser, you love kissing, probably kiss your lover a lot, and you’ve been told you’re a good kisser.

🕊 2nd or 8th house stellium: money being a prominent factor in your life whether it be due to inheritance, marrying someone wealthy, having a job involving finance or managing money, or people giving you money just because. you may even dislike money but it’s still a theme in your life.

🕊 capricorn in the 5th house: may initially feel like you aren’t creative but later you start to see that you actually are. someone who takes their talents seriously. might struggle with finding a balance between work & play. you can feel guilty and lazy for having too much fun, guilty when you’re not working which makes it hard to relax and enjoy your hobbies.

🕊 mars/pluto in 6th house: you’re light headed and about to throw up why are you still forcing yourself to work? you might need to pay attention/listen to your body more. learn to balance the energy you put into your work and health. if you work too hard you can get sick, and if you’re sick it’s hard to be productive which leaves you miserable. you are human, respect your limits. learn how to take a break.

🕊 aries moon men have the prettiest eyes.

🕊 having prominent gemini placements or a lot of opposite aspects: can make you feel split, half & half, or like a walking paradox. you’re this but you’re also that, you are the synonym and the antonym, you’re both night and day, gray because you're both black and white. this can mean you have an interesting personality yet some confusion when it comes to understanding yourself and others understanding you.

🕊 lilith/venus in the 11th: your friends tend to have a crush on you or flirt with you. but lilith here might make your friends more hesitant to flirt or pursue you romantically. you could have a beloved/alluring/powerful presence on social media, easily attracting followers and building some kind of a presence because there is “something” about you.

🕊 taurus: when it comes to taurus & food (hear me out lol), the emphasis is usually on gluttony. this can be true but wait, there’s more!

food brings comfort (might be emotional eaters), cooking might make them feel beautiful and sensual, cooking for themselves is a form of self care and self love and cooking for others can be a love language. sharing a meal can create a bond and connection with others. their creativity may be used & seen in the recipes they create.

taurus is also associated with the mouth/throat and venus (taurus’ ruling planet) likes to be pleased so it makes sense.

furthermore, they could be farmers, gardeners, or be interested/knowledgeable in gastronomy, agriculture, or herbs/plants.

🕊 uranus-moon aspects: struggling with emotional stability which may lead to rebellion or acting out of order. may not be able to rely on your mom, and instead could find comfort in your friends. philanthropic deeds or making a contribution to society can be cathartic and liberating.

𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱𓆱

if you read this until the end I hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you. 

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology notes #libraincarnate

[temis-de-leon]

Tw: dark themes (mentioned prostitution, sex trafficking and eating disorders), my general opinion on sins and demons (related to what I've learned in school and my family's beliefs) and very ooc OM! cast.

Obey me should be 18+. Obey me should be bloody and vicious. Mc's presence would be so much impactful if only the demons behaved like demons and the angels behaved like angels. If Solomon was an almost forgotten king living amongst dark creatures with no crown on his head.

When i think of Solomon i think of that story where two mothers were arguing about a living child. He offered giving each of them one half of the baby.

Where's that Solomon?

Why does Mammon keep spending money? True Greed lives within those parents that choose witnessing their child in pain over paying expensive medicine. Those people that bought one pair of leather boots ten years ago and refuse to buy something new because everything is "too expensive" nowadays. Mammon should be selfish and bitter, criticizing everyone's spending habits, not encouraging them.

But Mammon's greed represents having everything and more, you may say.

Well then, if he wants to have everything and more, why does he gamble? Does he expect to win every single time? I'm not convinced.

And Beel shouldn't be hungry all the time. On the contrary, he should be full. He should be eating without really having the need to do so. Food is not a coping mechanism for Gluttony, it takes the whole meaning of sin away. Beel should eat because he can do it and because he wants to do it. He should be eating until he feels sick and then keep eating because, why not? The food is delicious and it's right there.

And on top of that they're demons. Mystical beings dedicated entirely to temptation and punishment.

In obey me they're all bark and no bite (except lesson 16 and maybe Lucifer sometimes).

Give me some violence. Give me the gore that comes with living in hell. Give me a mentally unstable MC that truly shouldn't survive the exchange program. Demons all around are obsessed falling in love with them. Give me a true reason and not plot armor.

Envy and Pride are so close. Levi should be as ruthless as Lucifer. Greed and Lust? Prostitution and sex trafficking would put Mammon and Asmo on top of the food chain.

Tell me why Diavolo is more powerful than Barbatos.

Tell me how Luke is still alive.

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #dark themes #dark thoughts #obey me solomon #seven sins #obey me mc

[vixensbrainrotts]

Food baby <Scenario>

Content: Scenario, various characters

Tropes: established relationships, crack

Warnings: food (?), overconsumption

Summary: Food baby, nuf said.

Vixen's two cents: Based on real-life experiences. swear that Italian food stuffs so hard but it's too good wtf. anyway here's a short little thing! lmk if you enjoy, and who you think fits into this as well. if you do and have an idea of your own, ASK!!!! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!! now enjoy!!

"Eugh." the sound was guttural and less than sexy when he made it, clutching his stomach when you two exited the Restaurant you had just eaten in.

Smiling, you glance over his shoulder to see him shuffling along, full and exhausted by the eating. "You alright?" you ask slowing down, matching your speed to his. "Myeah." His voice sounded strained. "Foodbaby." he concluded and closed his eyes, halting for a moment.

Chuckling, you asked with a smile on your face "Really? What's its name?". He groaned and tilted his head up, one hand supporting his back as the other rubbed his belly. "I dunno. Something Italian..." he heaved, catching his breath from those very exhausting ten feet he had put between him and the restaurant.

"Carlos." he decided, waddling on with a determined squint in his face.

"wow..." you feigned, walking alongside him, nodding. "How many months?" you played along and grinned, awaiting his answer.

You had told him not to eat all that much, but he as per usual didn't listen, and stuffed his face with two precursors, one small soup, one main dish (and half of yours because 'it tastes so good!'), and two deserts as well as seemingly bottomless home-made lemonade mixes.

Now he paid the price as per usual. This was more than common: going out to eat together for a date, stuffing himself with too much of everything, and then ending up in a complete food coma, brain contently swimming in gluttony, but stomach full and painful.

"Like twelve." He burped and allowed himself to fall forward, supporting himself by the nearest lamppost.

"Right. Let's get you home then." you laughed and walked ahead, knowing that he would follow (eventually).

-HANMA SHUJI, MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO, NAHOYA KATAWA, Shinichiro Sano, Takemichi Hanagaki, (and anyone else you think fits- let me know and ill add them)

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #tr content #tokyo manji revengers #hanma x reader #hanma shuji #hanma x you #sano mikey manjiro #mikey x reader #nahoya x reader #nahoya kawata #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano #hanagaki takemichi #tr headcanons #tokyo rev #tokyo rev crack

[fickleminder]

seven supervillains and one (1) normie

You move in with seven normal, law-abiding housemates.

Here’s my piece for @obeymezine! Leftover sales are live till Dec 15th, so do consider supporting us since all proceeds will be going to charity :)

Lucifer looks even more handsome in person.

You find yourself paying more attention to him and the deep timbre of his voice than the tour of Serenity Manor and its rules. Only a firm call of your name snaps you back to the present.

“This will be your room,” he says, opening one last door for you to step through. It’s decently furnished with all the basic necessities and has an en suite to boot. How generous. “Is this to your satisfaction?”

“Oh absolutely, everything looks great!” You wheel your luggage into a corner and set your backpack down on the large study table. “I still can’t believe I got matched with you guys for the boarding program. Thank you so much for having me!”

“The pleasure is ours.” Lucifer gives you a polite nod. “Make yourself at home, and I will introduce you to my brothers tomorrow. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us.”

.

.

.

“Surveillance systems are online,” Levi reports as all eyes watch you unpack on the screen. “Ugh, bugging rooms is so old school. It’s only the first day, I doubt there’ll be any suspicious activity.”

“And it better stay that way.” Satan’s already profiling you from your posters on the walls, your stuffed sheep on the bed, your clothes in the closet. No red flags yet, as far as he can discern.

“Pfft, what can one exchange student do to us?” Mammon scoffs. Your background check was clean, your documents checked out. In every practical sense, you were an ordinary postgraduate taking courses at the local university for a year. “Loosen up guys!”

Lucifer shoots him a glare indicating he has no intention of doing so. “No funny business. It’s unfortunate that we have to go undercover in our own home, but Elysium’s agents are on to us. We need to mask our activities and blend in, and we have no choice but to wait for them to leave. Until then, continue to follow Prince’s orders, but keep things low-key. Do I make myself clear?”

.

.

.

“—massive destruction of property at Settler’s factory premises. Witnesses say it was Gluttony in another one of his rampages, and this marks the fourth attack in…”

You glance towards a face-palming Lucifer at the breakfast table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine.” He smiles through gritted teeth and switches off the TV, silencing the news.

.

.

.

You have a few days before classes officially start, so you decide to take some time familiarizing yourself with the town. Lucifer has graciously agreed to escort you, along with one of his brothers.

“And that’s about it, really. Is there anywhere else you wanna go?” Belphie asks after they’ve given you a cursory tour. You mention wanting to return to the confectionery shop you passed by a while back, and he smirks. “Sure, but if you’re looking for Settler products, they might not have much stock.”

“That’s alright! They used to be one of my favorite brands you know, but then I found out they engaged in a lot of questionable business practices. It’s a shame really, I liked their stuff.”

Lucifer feels his work phone vibrating in his pocket all of a sudden and curses mentally. What could Barbatos possibly want at this moment? “Apologies, I… have to use the washroom,” he excuses himself in a hurry, discreetly signaling Belphie to cover for him before running off.

Almost half an hour passes with no Lucifer in sight.

“He’s been gone for a while. Should we go and check up on him?” You ask worriedly.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Belphie sniggers. “He usually takes really long shits anyway. Let’s just go. He’ll catch up eventually.”

Lucifer meets you back in the manor at the end of the day, and you miss the dirty look he sends Belphie behind your back after you recommend some home remedies for treating diarrhea.

.

.

.

“Satan, I need some advice!” The blond follows your voice to the kitchen and freezes when he sees you holding his collection of hunting knives. For gutting people, not cutting meat. “I’m making lunch. Which of these are for fruits and vegetables?”

This is why Lucifer always nags us about picking up our toys, Satan realizes belatedly. Fuck, he probably left them out on the couch or something. At least he’d remembered to clean off the blood first. “Those aren’t for cooking. They’re for, uh, self-defense.” Idiot, is that the best you could come up with? There’s no way it’ll—

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed.” You gasp and quickly return the knives to him. “One of my old roommates used to sleep with a dagger under their pillow, though I personally prefer to keep a baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, didn’t some rich politician get murdered in his own house just recently? The manor seems secure and you guys have Cerberus, but better safe than sorry I guess.”

Satan is still reeling from your sheer obliviousness, but he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree,” he says with a poker face.

.

.

.

Mammon’s Lexura is a sight to behold, but you’re more interested in how fast she can go.

“Oi, I know you’re worried about your friend but keep your oily fingers to yourself, you hear?” He grumbles, opening the garage door for you and Beel to enter. “Which mall was it again?”

“The one with Bullseye,” you reply distractedly, furiously tapping away on your phone. “I can’t believe she and her girlfriend got harassed in public. You only read stories about this happening to other people online. What kind of fucked up organization calls themselves a charity and— Shit!”

You trip on something and drop your phone. It bounces and skids under Mammon’s car, but Beel instinctively steps forward before you can even react. With one arm, he tilts the vehicle just enough for you to duck under and retrieve it.

“Wow, thanks so much Beel!” You dust your phone off and check for cracks on the screen while Mammon sweats buckets behind you. “You gotta share your workout routine with me sometime. Hey, do you mind coming along and being our muscle for the day?”

“Okay.” Beel agrees easily, and you pump your fists.

.

.

.

“—worth millions. The curator declined to comment…”

“This is crazy, I was there just last week!” You exclaim while chewing on your dinner. “The museum had lots of cool stuff on display. Mostly illegally imported, if you catch my drift, but not anymore huh?”

Asmo winks at you. “What a shame. You could have seen Lust in action first-hand.”

“Aren’t heists supposed to be discreet? He is pretty good-looking though, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he prettier than me?” The entire table goes deathly silent as you squint between Asmo’s fluttering eyelashes and the masked supervillain on the TV screen. “Don’t you think he’d look better with a boob window?”

“…Nah, he doesn’t have the tiddies to pull it off.” Your gaze unconsciously flickers to Beel’s chest. “Plus the butts don’t match. Yours is flatter.”

Asmo’s jaw drops in mock outrage. “Honey, have you been checking me out? How very scandalous of you~”

“Enough, please.” Lucifer sighs amidst your spluttering.

.

.

.

“That’s it. We’re screwed, our cover is blown. I knew this was a bad idea…”

“Let’s just resort to good ol’ fashioned murder and then frame it as a runaway case. No one will ever know!”

“This manor is a fortress located in the safest part of town. What the fuck do you think people will presume there is to run from?”

“There were a couple of close calls, but I think we’re still in the clear.” Beel recalls you quoting your statistics professor after an extended period of time where one of them would come home late the night before a major news event: correlation does not imply causation.

“Need I remind all of you, it was our proposal to join the boarding program as a front. Prince approved it himself, and I won’t allow us to back out now.”

“Shut up, Lucifer. Don’t you have any politicians to assassinate?” Belphie sneers.

“We will see this through.” Lucifer refuses to budge, ever the prideful bastard. “We’re still safe, but keep your guards up. Understood?”

.

.

.

The kitchen is pitch black this time of night, but Levi’s had years to figure out a way around without alerting anyone he’s back.

“I hate on-site jobs,” he grumbles to himself. “What kind of company doesn’t have remote access to their servers nowadays? Let’s see how they like it when people steal and sell their private data instead, muahahaha— Eek!”

“Hmm? Levi?” You stifle a yawn and shuffle towards the rack of cups. “Why’re you up at this hour?”

Levi is still blinking away the spots in his vision from the sudden onslaught of light when you flipped the switch. He pales as you stare at his costume and equipment on the counter. “Wait, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Late con, huh? Must have been fun. You were still in character there. Heheh.” You pour yourself a glass of water. “Nice cosplay by the way. G’night.”

“G-goodnight!” Levi waits to hear the sound of your door closing before wheezing hysterically in relief.

.

.

.

You sigh blissfully under the weight of four cats lounging on various parts of your body. “I’ll admit I had my doubts at first, but this is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Satan takes a long sip of his tea while petting the snoozing tabby on his lap. He looks like one of those criminal masterminds in the movies. “Visiting cat shelters is the best way to unwind after a long week. And don’t worry, I have it on good authority that this one actually takes proper care of our furry friends.”

“That’s reassuring to hear! I’ll never understand why anyone would want to hurt these precious babies.” A little calico wanders near your face and boops your nose with its toe beans. “If only all shelters could be as noble as this one. Remind me to stop by the donation box before we leave!”

“Gladly. Speaking of donations, remember that charity group that messed with your friends? I heard someone stole every last penny from their funds and now they’re on the verge of insolvency. Truly, this is karma at work.”

“Schadenfreude!” You cheer before the two of you clink cups and drink.

.

.

.

“Hey, you’ve been in there for a while now. Do you need— Oh.”

“Belphie!” You grin at him sheepishly and fidget with your rubber gloves. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. My old dorm had a janitor, so I’ve never been assigned toilet duty before…”

“No wonder. You’d be dead in minutes if you kept this up,” Belphie snaps, quickly moving the unopened bottle of bleach away from you. “Mixing cleaning products is a sure-fire way to poison yourself.”

You wince at his harsh tone, and Belphie’s expression softens in sympathy.

“Here, I’ll teach you.” And then he proceeds to detail exactly what chemicals are in each product, which combinations produce different kinds of fumes with varying levels of toxicity, how to make odorless gasses that can kill a man in seconds—

“Why’d you stop?” You protest when Belphie abruptly cuts himself off. He’s probably feeling embarrassed about oversharing. “This is super informational. I’d be dead without you!”

“…Right.” He blinks, nonplussed. “You’re welcome, or whatever. Just stay away from the bleach, okay?”

.

.

.

Mammon shuffles the deck with deft hands and explains the rules. “You play as an Elysium agent of your choice, and your goal is to defeat the mob boss terrorizing the city: Jesús Iglesias Ken. The game can be competitive or cooperative depending on which rules we follow, but I say we do competitive mode and bet on the winner!”

“Ugh, shaddup Mammon!” Levi groans while you set up the board and pieces.

“Now, for the characters! We have Kid, a tiny chihuahua of an agent who has lots of good buffs from the sweets he eats. Director, who can move other players during his turn; but don’t get fooled by his smile. He can be super scary sometimes! Spear, man that guy packs a punch. He’s a damage dealer with shitty taste buds.”

Too busy paying attention to Mammon, you don’t see the way Levi makes throat-slitting gestures and mouths SHUT UP SHUT UP STUPIDMAMMON—

“There are also NPCs like Sorcerer, who can help or hinder you depending on your actions, shady bastard. And Aristocrat, who’s on the villain’s side and a total bootlicker, but he gives valuable intel for the right price.”

“How do you know all of this? I don’t see it in the rule book.” You scan the character description section intently. “Don’t tell me… You’re secretly a fan!”

Mammon chokes, finally catching on to Levi’s signals. Both of them exchange wide-eyed looks before forcibly grinning at you. “Yeah, totally, I’m a fan! Hahaha…”

“What a nerd, right?” Levi laughs nervously. “Anyway, this game is more fun with more players, so let’s just play something else for now, okay? Okay.”

.

.

.

“I’ve got reports that Elysium’s agents are finally moving out. We should be cleared to resume normal operations soon.”

“Our plan worked like a charm! Ooh, we’re so close~”

“Good job, everyone.” Lucifer nods with a satisfied smile. “This will all be over shortly. And just in time too. A year’s almost up.”

Everyone falls silent as their thoughts drift to you. It’ll be quiet without you around; you may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but you were always kind and genuine with all of them. It goes without saying that they’ll definitely miss you once you’re gone.

“We should stay in touch,” Mammon proposes suddenly, looking none of his brothers in the eye. “Y’know, to keep tabs and make sure we weren’t compromised or anything. See things through to the end and all that.”

For once, nobody objects to Mammon’s idea. “Indeed,” Lucifer murmurs in approval.

.

.

.

“I’ll be on campus studying for my ethics finals. See you all at dinner!”

You set up camp at your favorite corner: a little nook in the section of the library that’s perpetually empty. Just as you make yourself comfortable and open your laptop, someone pings you with an encrypted message.

Grinning to yourself, you easily bypass Levi’s embedded spyware and open up a private channel to take the call. “Barb, it’s so good to hear from you!”

“Good afternoon.” A polished voice greets you from the speakers, and you quickly plug in your headphones to prevent eavesdropping. “Apologies for the disturbance, but I have the data you requested.”

“Thanks Barbatos. You really are the best AI I’ve ever created!”

“I am the only AI you’ve ever created, but the sentiment is acknowledged. Did your side project go well?”

“Always so humble, haha! And yes, it went wonderfully! It’s so good to finally meet the brothers face-to-face. They’re such a lively bunch!”

“I concur. Back to business: the up-and-coming cosmetics company you asked me to look into? It turns out your hunch was right; I’ve found evidence that they rely heavily on animal testing for their products.”

“A job for Belphie then. He’ll know how to put those chemicals to better use.”

“Of course. On a separate note, another political party has been pushing for…”

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #zine

[shibaraki]

BE STILL MY INDELIBLE LOVE ┊ CHOSO

tags: GN reader, shark mer choso, mating behaviour, accidental acceptance of courting, fluff, interspecies relationships, blood + mild gore (fish death), biting (plenty of it), fluff, forbidden love vibes

wc: 1K+

↱ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server — written using @petrichorium’s prompts: “This is… food? For me? I can’t eat this” and “A cloud of blood billowing from a thrashing creature” ↲

Curiosity is just shrouded gluttony. The need to see more, know more, devour as much of the world as you can. Your village elders impressed fear on the young to keep them from treading far afield. They punished those that set foot beyond the borders. Do not leave the boundaries. Do not enter the woods.

You always had been an insatiable child. Restless and unhappily kept in your four walls. The hunger never settled. It drew you to stories of eldritch creatures cast away by God, tales woven with drunken mariner whispers, pages in books quickly torn at the spines and burned. A travelling scholar once told you that the Earth was covered in salt. The sea. The monsters you sought resided there, finding home in the briny depths.

There is a vein outside the village where the salmon run upstream to complete their life cycle. Every river led to the ocean, that much you knew. The first time you crept out of the village had been on impulse. You walked for miles, closely following the sounds of free flowing water until you stumbled upon the inlet. You recall how your feet sank into the mud, grit of silt and icy embrace, and how the oppressive current worked against you as you trudged downstream.

That is where you found Choso.

Where the treeline flanked the narrowing river on either side and rose to create a tapestry of foliage that obscured the sun, in a palatial veil of gold, you saw him; large and angular, a shadow moving on the riverbed. Half fish half man. A long dark tail and a pale belly that blended into skin. Torqued fins, caudal and pelvic, another beginning at the base of his spine, standing proud and tall. Black hair plumed around a gentle face, markings cut across the bridge of his nose. Serrated teeth hidden behind soft lips that tore into your ankle and unearthed a merry scarlet waterfall when you came too close.

Monsters are defined by their aberrance. Monsters are unnatural, wicked and ugly. On your second visit you quickly learned that Choso was none of those things, watching in awe as he drug himself onto the banks and cradled your injured heel. A long tongue too rough and dextrous to be human lapped over the scabbed wound in apology, his saliva numbing the residual pain.

Monstrous? No. To you, he is about as threatening as a limpet. You returned to his neck of the river every day since— rather, every day possible. He is the one to receive your first and last words. With each sun cycle and mark left on your skin your neighbour’s expressions grow more sour. Monstrous are the grating whispers, louder still, the eyes pinned to your every move; endured, only if it meant seeing Choso once more.

A cloud of blood billowed from a thrashing shadow in the dark crevasse. You wait in the mud, cushioned by dry grass pressed flat under your thighs. The surface ripples violently and eventually settles into foam, fizzing out in broad rings. The stillness breaks where a head rises from the water. Red rivulets paint Choso’s chin, running down the column of his throat and staining his gills as he drags himself ashore.

You hold a trepid breath. One swing of his large, muscled arm and there’s a severed fish carcass hauled into the dirt. It comes apart like wet paper, viscera spilling out in a streaming tide. “Eat,” he states firmly.

Choso doesn’t speak often. When he does it is usually just to demand something of you. Give when he needs to tend the thin wounds his teeth leave. Come when you’re too far from him. Watch when he wants you to pay attention as he dives deeper to perform strange, intricate dances for you.

Eat is a recent addition to his verbal repertoire. For some reason he is intent on feeding you. “This is… food? For me?” you smile ruefully, apprehensive as you poke at the dead eyed fish head at your feet. “I can’t eat this, Choso.”

He huffs. The currents break around a too-big tail as he crawls to your lap. You fall back on the soft earth, knees parting to accommodate his breadth. The fins on either side of his pelvis press into your navel. You reach out to cup his face in your palms without much forethought, drying blood now chipping under your fingers.

Something warm and pleasant coils in your chest when his whole body shudders. His gills flutter around a long exhale. You laugh quietly, relenting when he nuzzles his head against your midsection, blood smearing your clothes. Sometimes it felt as though he was trying to dig into your bones.

Head whipping to the side, he takes the flesh of your forearm between his jaws with just enough pressure to pierce skin. The flat of his rough tongue rolls over the wound, blood congealing. Satisfied, he noses at the sensitive skin of your wrist before returning your hand to his jaw. You barely flinch. Choso has done this so many times now you’ve lost count. He steadfastly refuses to tell you why but there’s never any malice in it.

A thought crosses your mind. Your arm falls limp to the side where his own lies. You feel him seize when your fingers enclose around his forearm. Choso stares unblinking while you bring his wrist to your mouth. Pliant, allowing you to shape him as you please.

His skin is thick and tough and so unlike your own. A rumbling purr begins to resonate in his chest as you sink your dull human teeth into him, biting down harder than you’ve ever tried, eyes clenched shut with the effort. Your jaw locks, a soft pop rattling around your skull when the scales break.

You reel away as his blood fills your mouth, sticking to your gums. The taste of copper pervades your senses. Hare brained, your elders called you. Foolish glutton. But in that moment, when Choso braces himself over your body, pinned back to the verge, he dubs you something new.

Crowding close to nip at your cheek, he murmurs, “Mine”.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso x reader #choso x y/n #m.choso

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (8)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, nine, ten, eleven, twelve!

Notes and TW: Whether or not this is a story, does it really matter if characters are living fleshed out lives in their own perception of the world? This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-writes @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2

You walk next to Jade along the beach, feet sinking into the sand. Your shoes dangle from their tied laces in your hand. The feeling of the grains shifting around your feet, the sound of waves lapping on the shore, they feel soothing in a way. Even though the winds are stronger today and there are dangers you can’t see lurking beneath the waves, you don’t worry because you have Jade beside you. Reliable, constant, safe. You can’t even be sure how long you’ve been thinking of him this way anymore.

An hour earlier, you were in a meeting with Walrus about the dead assassin’s body. Apparently, there are multiple layers of magic shrouding it that require some time to break. Nothing conclusive yet, but at least there’s a glimmer of hope. You wonder if Walrus is dragging out the process on purpose so that she can ensure the cooperation of the Leech Mafia lasts throughout her coup.

“In a way,” you say, “Walrus reminds me of you.”

“How so?” Jade is so very fond of playing dumb. It takes one to know one, and he knows. You can tell from his perfectly unreadable smile throughout that meeting that his guard is always up around her.

“She’s a gluttonous schemer who pretends to be kind and harmless, but secretly plots to gain the most out of anyone.”

He chuckles. “Thank you.”

Of course. It is just like him to take it as a compliment. Jade takes your shoes from you and you let him carry them for you as though he’s just your pack mule instead of the temporary head of the Leech Mafia. The setting sun casts an orange glow over the beach, turning the frothy tips of the waters into flames and Jade’s irises into molten gold. You catch his gaze and you smile into the eye contact.

“I like that about you.”

His eyes soften, molten gold shining with slightly mismatched hues and matching depth. You can’t look away. Not when he returns your smile with eyes like that.

“What part of it do you like? The scheming? The gluttony?”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“But of course. I need to know what you like best about me.”

“Why?”

Jade chuckles. “The more information I have on any topic, the better prepared I will be for any situation, don’t you agree? In my position, ignorance is a sin.”

You certainly agree. The more you know, the better. But in this case, what is he even preparing for? He could probably cook up some sort of blackmail against you with the most innocuous tidbit of information.

You shake those thoughts away. You made him a promise. What was it that he said? At least promise me this. Even if I turn on the entire world, promise you will trust that I will not betray you.

He made you a promise, too. The promise that he would never lie to you again echoes in your heart. Even if those words were a lie and he said all that to lower your guard, you’ve decided to cross that bridge when you come to it. No point in fretting about something that may not come to pass. You have a thousand other things to worry about, and you’ve decided to trust Jade enough that this will not be on the list. If you end up in a sticky situation, you will sit and think of a solution, just as you have always done.

“Honestly,” you say, gazing out at the white-tipped waves, “I like it all. Your cunning, your lies and half-truths. It’s admirable. These intangible things have been forged into your weapons and armour. I only complain when it inconveniences me.”

It’s the truth. As much as you suspect and are wary of him, Jade is someone you admire and respect. Besides, if you truly disliked him, you would not be walking along the beach alone with him at sunset. You would not have stuck with him for fifteen years. You would not have kept on bringing pebbles and plants and fungi and bugs and any other number of curious things to the shore in your preteen years no matter how much money he offered.

“I would listen to all your complaints,” he says with nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“No promises not to inconvenience me, huh.”

“I promised not to lie to you. It is a bit of creative omission on my part.”

You chuckle. Silence settles on your shoulders like a blanket, comfortable and familiar. It’s nice to have a moment like this where you aren’t thinking too hard about everything. A reprieve filled with the ambience of waves washing up on shore and Jade’s presence.

“Do you,” he breaks the silence with a softly uttered question, “really believe that manuscript is a reflection of things that will certainly come to pass?”

This is the third time he’s asked you this. It must really be a sore spot for him. Jade isn’t the type to repeat himself. If he doesn’t get his way with one method, he’ll find twenty other ways. You don’t understand why he keeps asking with the same words and phrasing.

“I still can’t be sure. But you know, the Leech Mafia gaining influence because another syndicate fell is actually mentioned in the manuscript. I’d say things are still going according to the story.”

“No details appear as to how that was achieved. Perhaps this is not how things went behind the scenes in the original story.” He stops walking and faces you fully. “Your caution and your persistence in tying loose ends led to the investigation of mages within the Carpenter Mafia, which in turn led to Walrus revealing herself. I have yet to thank you for that.”

“You don’t need to. She would’ve revealed herself sooner or later to make her deal with you.”

Jade hums thoughtfully. “I doubt it. She likely planned on staying as the head of security in my home as long as possible. There are many benefits to being undercover in a place so close to me. She would have concealed her appearance or prepared a proxy to meet and make a deal with me. That is what I gathered from her personality.”

“It takes one to know one.”

“As the saying goes.” He admits it, his lips lifting in a smile to reveal his sharp teeth. “That aside, there is another piece of evidence that shows discrepancy between real life and the story. Floyd.”

Of course, out of everyone, Floyd would be the one who tears the plot points of the original story into shreds and stomps on their remains. He hates being constrained, arguably even more than Jade. He would never follow that story to the letter, and you know this, so you compromised by letting him do the bare minimum to fulfill the requirements of the story.

“What has he done?” You can’t be there to watch any of his interactions with (Y/N), so you don’t know the specifics.

“Don’t worry, he’s been following the dialogue and actions from the manuscript for the most part. The discrepancy arises where the story says (Y/N) becomes something of a mood stabilizer for him, keeping him in a constant state of happiness.” Jade places a hand on his chest, a fond gleam in his eye. “There are a few times I had to intervene so that his mood did not noticeably sour.”

You’re actually surprised that there were no major incidents. Floyd’s mood changes like the wind, ranging from a hair-trigger, volatile temper to a cheerful disposition that rivals the sun. That is not something a person can fix just because he likes them. In the first place, Floyd is not a project that needs to be fixed.

“I like Floyd the way he is,” you say, thinking about the times his flipping mood has caused your sense of schadenfreude to take center stage in your mind. “It’s not easy to schedule around, but it’s refreshing in a way when things don’t go exactly to plan.”

“I agree.” Jade places a hand over his chest. “He has made my life boundlessly interesting.”

“Right? It’s best to like Floyd in his entirety. But I’m sure (Y/N) would like him even if he isn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time.”

“You have great praise for her character.”

“She’s wonderful.” You smile fondly. At the same time, something still nags at you. It should be the result you want, right? But you’re hesitant to ask. “Are you sure you haven’t fallen for her after spending so much time with her?”

“I’m certain.” There is no hesitation in his response. “She is a decent person, but I do not think she deserves the compliments you rain upon her.”

A strange sense of relief washes over you. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s literally perfect.”

“I would disagree. She is hardly a saint.” Jade’s expression settles into something more serious. “Don’t you think it’s strange that she has not contacted you after all this time?”

That’s still a mystery. “She doesn’t remember me, allegedly. You’re the one who told me that.”

“Yes, but surely you have left traces of yourself in her life. Have you ever given her anything? Taken pictures with her?”

He raises a good point. You’ve given her many things that she wanted but didn’t have enough money to buy. Usually trivial things like mugs with cat designs or pretty hair clips. Now that you think about it, there are polaroids of the two of you on her nightstand. Has that not raised any questions? Does she not wonder about the person in those photos that she allegedly cannot remember?

Furthermore, what Jade said strikes you as strange. “Wait, you didn’t see my pictures in her room? You stayed overnight, right? Did you see the pictures on her nightstand?”

He looks out at the sea in thought. “I would have noticed something like that immediately, but I do not recall it.”

You stiffen. Where did the photos go? Surely, the story hasn’t written them away. Even though your pictures aren’t mentioned in the manuscript, they can’t have been omitted in real life. After all, you’re still here.

Did she dispose of them? But why? If she saw pictures of herself with someone she doesn’t remember framed on her nightstand, why would she put them away or toss them in the trash? Wouldn’t she logically keep it and try to remember who the mystery person is? Unless she’s only pretending not to remember. Unless she hates you. Unless she’s using this as an opportunity to cut you out of her life. Is that the truth? Was she ever such a two-faced person?

You refuse to believe it. There were many opportunities to cut you out of her life, especially when you got busy. In those times, she was the one who reached out first. You can’t accept that she suddenly came to hate you without a reason.

“Let’s not dwell on it.” Jade steps in front of you. “May I ask you a different question?”

“Go for it.”

“Do you really believe that manuscript is a reflection of fate?”

You furrow your brows. “Isn’t that the same thing you’ve been asking me the whole time?”

“It depends on how you interpret it.” He pulls his gloves off and starts to reach for you. As though struck by a thought, he hesitates. His hand returns to his side. “What I am really trying to ask is, if you think that is fate, do you also believe fate can be changed?”

He asks the second question as though he is sure of your answer to the first one. You study his expression in the dying light. Placid. Pleasant. This is the face he uses when he’s holding his cards so tightly to his chest that he may as well bury them inside his heart.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of fate? The point is that fate is how the future is meant to happen. If fate can be changed, then it isn’t fate to begin with.” You gently take his hand and hold it between both of yours. “So, to answer all your questions in one go—I don’t think that manuscript is fate.”

A grin full of jagged teeth breaks through his pleasant mien.

“Finally,” he breathes out, stepping closer to you and bringing your hands up to his chest. “I was hoping to hear you say that.”

“You know, I was half convinced for a while that (Y/N) is just a character made by that manuscript. And in extension, we’re all characters made to play out the plot it’s outlined. Right now, though, I think you’ve convinced me that the manuscript isn’t as set in stone as I thought.”

He chuckles. You expect to feel a steady heartbeat in his chest, but the tempo quickens at your touch, the allegro drumming a sharp contrast to the adante you thought you’d find.

“I was not aware you entertained such notions in your mind. Indeed, anything is possible in this world.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

Jade rubs his thumb against the back of your hands. “Of course not. I simply thought it was amusing. At the very least, you and I are not characters. We have thoughts and feelings that go beyond ink on paper. Such is the complexity that sentience yields, and it is what keeps me endlessly interested in observing others such as yourself.”

“I’d have to work hard if I really wanted to keep your interest. Sounds like a lot of effort,” you tease.

“I do not think it is possible to grow tired of you. You are endlessly fascinating to me in every way.” He leans close to you, his vibrant eyes filling your vision. “Does that answer your worries?”

“Worries?” You laugh it off. Were you worried about that sort of thing? He isn’t wrong. Since when were you so scared of losing him? “I guess I wouldn’t be thrilled if you got bored of me.”

A wave of emotion that borders on triumph washes over his features, exhilaration and happiness flickering on the edges. He brings your hands up to his lips and keeps them there, his breaths fluttering over your knuckles.

And he whispers your name. Not Friend A, not Red Handfish, not (Y/N). There is no name to insert here because it is yours, the one you always had, the one that represents all of you and who you are. Your name.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twst jade #twst fanfic #mafia au #multi chap fic #slow burn

[cleolinda]

(For our purposes, listen to it without the visuals first.)

I wasn't going to keep posting about Unreal Unearth, but something happened yesterday.

It's been five months since I first heard this song, and I'm still astonished by it. You know the tiktok skit about the Star Wars wedding music, and the guy is grooving along until the Imperial Death March filters in, and then he's kind of alarmed, like, wha—? And then he realizes it slaps anyway and he keeps dancing? That is "Eat Your Young."

It's the morning of March 17th. The EP with the first three singles from the new album has dropped. I've got my phone blasting the song on the bathroom counter, I don't understand half what the man is saying nor did I expect to, I'm cheerfully mumbling along in the shower, grooving along,

wait they did what for a war drum

Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

What the fuck, this song goes so hard. That's the chorus. The conceit of the whole album is that it loosely follows Dante's Inferno, so this is the third circle of hell, gluttony. Hozier himself says that he wasn't specifically thinking of Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal—

“I don’t know how intentional the reference to Jonathan Swift was in this. That essay [Swift’s 1729 satirical essay A Modest Proposal in which he suggests the Irish poor sell their children as food] is such a cultural landmark that it’s just hanging in the air. I was more reflecting on what I felt now in this spirit of the times of perpetual short-term gain and a long-term blindness. The increasing levels of precarious living, poverty, job insecurity, rental crisis, property crisis, climate crisis, and a generation that’s inheriting all of that and one generation that’s enjoyed the spoils of it. The lyrics are direct, but the voice is playful. There’s this unreliable narrator who relishes in this thing which was fun to write.” [Apple Music album notes]

—and I believe him. The song's not a suggestion, a proposal; it's an invitation to atrocity in progress. I also believe he probably wasn't thinking of Greta Thunberg's iconic speech at the UN Climate Action Summit, not specifically, but that's what I hear in the song, like the flip side of a coin:

You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words. And yet I'm one of the lucky ones. People are suffering. People are dying. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are in the beginning of a mass extinction, and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of eternal economic growth. How dare you! [...] You say you hear us and that you understand the urgency. But no matter how sad and angry I am, I do not want to believe that. Because if you really understood the situation and still kept on failing to act, then you would be evil.

I feel like on some level, even coincidentally, "Eat Your Young" is the answer to the question, what would you sound like if you were that evil? Who would you be? I can think of a dozen possibilities just off the top of my head or looking around my blog, from something as petty as studio executives mangling trees to deprive striking workers of shade (while hoping they lose their homes), all the way up to the US school-to-prison pipeline. The National Rifle Association keeps politicians in its pocket while the US has more mass shootings than days in a year, Nestlé fucks shit up around the world as a way of life, even ChatGPT sucks up water while threatening jobs—and for what? And yet, I promise you most of these things weren't the inspiration for an Irishman’s song—some of them hadn't even happened yet. There's just that much fresh You Would Be Evil to go around. I am certain that Hozier wrote the song partly about (as one article puts it) "Ireland's housing crisis: Millennials, a generation sacrificed," given that time back in the day when he helped occupy a building—a housing crisis happening in multiple countries. There's so much of the world I'm not touching on. I can stuff a paragraph with links and it's utterly inadequate.

I haven't even mentioned war.

There's an overwhelming sense this decade of the future being fed into a meat grinder. That sense is in this song. What would it sound like to be in the head of someone who didn't give a shit about anything but profit? Well, it might sound like this.

And if you haven't heard it, well—I'm going to sound absolutely out of my mind after saying all that, but "Eat Your Young" has a beat and you can dance to it. It's sexy. And I'm certain that's on purpose. You get seduced into the sound of it, as if by something demonic, something that enjoys sucking down the future and is not going to stop. And the sheer fucking catchiness of the song keeps you listening to it—thinking about it—when maybe you push away the dry headlines we get everyday. If you let this song stay in your head, it becomes a lens. Five months later, I still think about it when I read the news. Maui was on fire and tourists stayed. Within days, the prospect of developers swooping in to buy up land reared its head. If there's something still to take, there is ground to break, whatever's still to come. Get some.

I was born in 1978 —I'm late Gen X. In my forties, I'm young enough to worry about the future still; I’m neither so rich that I can just plan to retire to Mars, nor so old that I can know I'll be safely gone before the world might go up in flames. But I'm also not my nephew, whose school year just started back up, or the neighborhood kids who race him home down the sidewalk in the afternoons. Yesterday, he had his very first mass-shooter lockdown drill. He’s six.

I think music can put the feeling back into numb fingers, and I think that's why "Eat Your Young" works so well—Hozier calls the song fun and playful, and I think you have to have that, something you can live with rather than just switch off for your own mental survival. We need music to feed spirit at protests; we need something to keep our feet moving. Don’t give up, don't close your eyes and slip away. Those kids, they have dreams we could try to steal back for them.

Since I mentioned Maui:

Why Hawaiian sovereignty has undeniable context for the Maui fires

The Climate Crisis and Colonialism Destroyed My Maui Home. Where We Must Go From Here

How You Can Donate and Help Support Maui Communities Right Now

The Maui Strong Fund

#music #music discussion #hozier #long post #eat your young #Spotify

[tanuki-voice]

Your body ballooned when you gave in to eating junk. There was nothing like the feeling of being stuffed, feeling the sugars and saturated fats crawling through your veins. You loved it, were given over to it, totally addicted. In the end, the thing that broke down your inhibitions wasn't their relentless advertising, or even the clever marketing. It was the coupons.

It began simply: you would come home from work tired and hungry, and order fast food. To expedite the process, you'd downloaded all the value apps for the places in your area. The promises of free stuff and quicker ordering was too good to pass up. However, you'd forgotten to turn off notifications.

Every so often, your phone would ding with a new deal, a temptation, a siren's call to get you to order in exchange for deep discounts. In the beginning, these were free fries, an upgrade to a larger soda, a cheaper sandwich. All the same, on those late nights, it sounded good. Why not treat yourself once in a while?

Of course, soon, "once in a while" turned into "every few days", then "every other day", until you found yourself becoming slowly dependent on the offers, a bit of elation from every little perk. The more you ordered, the more their algorithm could read you, serving you exactly what you desired, calling you each day at the proper time. As if trained, you would feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mouth would begin to water. It was time to order.

The algorithm, of course, was not entirely in tune with your identity. It was a being designed to generate profit. By ordering so much, so often, you had managed to convince it you were a large household, and it reacted accordingly. The deals changed to suit this belief, family size meals, multi-packs, pastries by the dozen. You ordered them all, gorging yourself without end to fuel your ravenous appetite.

What began as a dinner routine extended to other meals, and soon after that you'd even find yourself going through the drive-thru for a quick snack between meals. To live in such gluttony, messily pigging out without end, shoveling food into your mouth day after day, brought you such pleasure. You found yourself going back, again and again, every day, consumed by the desire for more. Tonight was no different.

Reclined into your sofa, you awoke from a potent carb nap. Your lunch, two large pizzas, half a dozen donuts, an order of chicken wings, and a 40oz soda, had truly taken it out of you. Your enormous belly strained your comfy pajama pants, barely covered by an extra large t-shirt. Your hands comfortably rested on its pillowy softness. Through the mountains of squishy fat, you felt it rumble. It was time for dinner. And right on schedule, your phone buzzed.

With potent glee you snatched it up. Today, if you ordered in the next hour, you could get a meal for four, burgers, onion rings and milkshakes. The kicker: order now and get two more burgers free. Your payment details had never danced across the screen faster, and thirty minutes later three greasy bags full of food were dropped off judgement-free at your door.

You brought them back to the sofa and began to chow down. It had become tradition for you to eat without a shirt on by now; your meals had long since become too indecent to go without dirtying your clothes. Your tummy bared to the world, you picked up a burger in one hand and a fistful of onion rings in the other, and devoured. Like an animal you ate primally, as if starved, not knowing when your next meal may come. There was no one to tell you you couldn't, only you demanding that you would. Each mouthful was calorie rich, and each was washed down with more food, more milkshake, more trash.

You spared one of your grease covered hands to rub your stretch mark covered stomach. As you teased gassy burps and wind breaks from your middle, it growled, pleased, yet still expectant. Rarely was it ever satisfied. No matter how much you stuffed into it, it wanted more. It commanded you to fill yourself, to bring yourself to the brink, feeling as if you would pop. Your appetite controlled you, but under its warm, pleasant, hazy influence, you were happy to be its willing pawn.

The joy of feeding took priority over anything else. You felt like you could eat forever. Your body would adapt to the gluttonous demon you had become, one whose mind lived in its stomach. To eat was so simple, so thoughtless, mindless. You just let your belly think for you as you ordered, and let it bring you to pleasurable, mind-clearing bliss. Your body, particularly your ample midsection, was a temple, a testament to the food gods you worshipped. You loved to see it grow, to see it flow over you, to see it bulge, swell and fill your chairs and mattresses.

A loud belch stirred you from your enraptured state for just a moment to see that you'd gone through a majority of your offerings. There was a slight sting as you realized your feeding was nearing its end. Suddenly, without thinking, your hand reached for your phone again. Your stomach rumbled. It wouldn't be satisfied with just this, but would you really go over that line? Ordering even more, without thinking? Was this who you had become?

A notification dinged. If you ordered in the next thirty minutes, you could get a dozen eclairs for half price. Your bloated belly purred. Maybe it was who you'd become, and maybe you weren't ashamed of it. You had been, at one point, but that reluctance had faded. This was who you were, an insatiably hungry animal given over to your muses, and you loved every second of it. Dessert wouldn't hurt. And perhaps, maybe, even a little after that. You smiled and confirmed your delivery. You had a long, gluttonous night ahead of you, and you were raring to get started.

#feeding kink #feedee writing #feedism fic #wg fic #feederism fic