Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha! This is so effing wrong, I love it. Herein you will find: cannibalism and corpse defiling/necrophilia-ish activities. Inspired by my best friend who asked me one day "Do you thing that eating is maybe a bit like sex for Gluttony?" So Natakamani, here you go for all your begging, this is my first FMA.
I own nothing, not Full Metal Alchemist, the characters, the seven deadly sins, this computer, my car, my house… you get the picture.
Delectable Defiling
Stomach growling, mouth watering, Gluttony whines. His teeth buzz from the timbre of his moaning, and in this moment, he is not sure whether he will come, or whether he may die.
He is so hungry.
The peasant girl smells sick, there's something wrong with her other than her hopelessly shattered ankle. It is obvious (even to Gluttony, with so rudimentary a thought process) that she's tumbled down the slope, and been quite unable to attract any help or drag herself to safety.
Glutton's tummy flops as he scans the girl with his eyes, undressing her in his mind. She might be begging, he isn't sure, all he can hear is his stomach. Her skin is so creamy…
Her scream rends the afternoon in all the terror one human soul can muster without dropping dead straight away. The offending broken ankle spasms, squirting blood profusely across gluttony's face, making him only hotter-harder-hungrier. Her foot had been so tiny-so delicious- in his mouth, and already, so delicate a morsel, it was devoured, gone.
Gluttony traces his fingers gently across the girls' thighs, breathing on her soft skin, prickling with goose bumps. She quivers and shakes, and cries and begs, and smells fantastic.
As his teeth sink into her again, this time only just above her knee, she tastes like peaches and cream with sweet ham and something gamier. Tarragon lingers upon Gluttony's pallet.
She whimpers and writhes, the blood slowly seeping from her now as her death throes become less frantic. Gluttony is chewing on her cheek, observing very closely as the light fades from her eyes, as the sacrament is defiled and she becomes impure.
Rushed suddenly, Gluttony rips into the corpse, a feeding frenzy taking him over. He plunges his face into her chest cavity, swallowing sinew and tissue, cracking ribs between his teeth. His hands tangle against her, fingers flexing against her remains, snapping.
Gluttony's lower half moves of its own volition, grinding and thrusting against the now blood-soaked earth. He heaves against her body even as he consumes it, swallows her and dry-fucks the mess.
In a quivering bloody heap, Gluttony lays, nearly sated, so near to satisfaction it is madness, it is incompletion at its most extreme.
He screams, and grasps his tummy, writhing in hunger pangs too great to be ignored.
The bliss has ended, as it always does, and it is time for Gluttony to continue, to find something else to eat. He pushes himself up, and continues down the road, unmindful of the blood and dirt caked upon his face and between the rolls of his chins, negligent of the cold dead seed staining his pants.
