The Second Coming Of Gluttony Novels & Stories

"My hopes are high, my dear friend. Don't you dare let me down.” "We've always been really close like this?” Faye absent-mindedly laid her head on the upholstery, wiping her fingers covered from the forgotten candy on her lap with small suctions from her mouth. "As far as I can remember, since He made you, Gluttony and Greed have always talked very well. It must come from the idea that there is nothing more satisfying than spending money on good food.” I laughed. "So we are friends because our sins complement each other?” Faye nodded, solemn.

His name was Belphegor, he was the seventh deadly sin of sloth. He had been laying on the couch since God knows when, he was so lazy to stand up from the couch and ended up sleeping again. A woman walked out from the room, she had a white towel around her chest and on her head, the towel exposed her thigh as she sat herself on another couch with a hamburger and french fries in her hands. Her name was Beelzebub, she was the fifth deadly sin of gluttony. Her bright golden eyes stared at the man who laid on the couch “ Gosh, haven't you slept enough ” she said.

Three years together. Lucian proposed seventy-seven times. Aurelia said no every single time. The entire family called her ungrateful. How dare she reject the Underboss? But Aurelia knew the truth. Lucian never wanted to marry her in the first place. The first three times, she said yes. She took the ring with tears in her eyes. Each time, his face turned to ice. "A proper woman doesn't give in so easily," he scoffed. She took the hint. She handed the ring back and said no. Only then did his warm smile return. Then came year three. Aurelia overheard that line between him and Bianca, her adopted sister—intimate, sick, and unmistakable. It hit her like a bullet. Lucian never loved her. Not for

“Every year, they sink deeper into mindless gluttony.” “Gluttony,” murmured Nyra, reclining in her chair carved from bone, “is the only time they remember they are alive by being less mortal.” Her voice was a hiss softened into silk, her crimson lips curling with amusement. “Let them have their feast.” ---

She chose a busy café in the heart of the city and sent him a message, asking him to meet her there the following day. As she sat at the café, nervously sipping her coffee, she saw Mark approaching. He looked disheveled and angry, a far cry from the man she had once loved. She steeled herself for the confrontation, determined to stand her ground. "Mark, we need to talk," she said firmly as he sat down across from her. "Your behavior is unacceptable, and it needs to stop." Mark sneered at her, his eyes filled with contempt. "You think you're so much better than me now, don't you? Just because you're with that rich bastard."

She gladly started eating her pizza, thankful of a slight return to the mundane, even if it was to be short-lived. The meal over, Fay had paid, they left to resume the shopping trip, Fay only to glad to leave the restaurant behind, filled as it was with people who had witnessed her continuing descent into slutty oblivion. Her Master seemed to have a pretty good idea where they were going next, as he lead his willing slut behind him.

He had more drinks than he intended to and th consequences came in form of a splitting headache. He recalled last night's events. His lips thinned and he tried to pull himself together. “I don't need you. You weren't worth it at all. Am...glad you walked out of my life.” He gritted and slurred to no one but himself. Wanting to get up from the stool and it seemed his head was going to fall off.

Etched into the stone surface smoothed out by the relentlessness of the passing time, the inscription said: “At the hour when the sacrifice is made by a fellow undone, only an unselfish sacrifice is required to make two halves, a one.” That was enough to throw Shay and professor Jackson into overdrive, making them spend the rest of that day inspecting even the tiniest of pebbles there in hopes of finding anything else. They finally gave up late in the afternoon with depleted spirits when people in the church started throwing them suspicious looks during the mass.

"You're stronger than this. You've proven it every day for sixty years." But even as she spoke, she could see the truth in his eyes. The man who had spent decades choosing compassion over hunger was losing the battle against instincts that had been artificially amplified beyond his ability to control. His movements became more fluid, more predatory, his gaze fixing on the window where the townspeople waited with unmistakable hunger. "You don't understand," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries-old shame. "The hunger isn't just about blood anymore. It's about everything I've denied myself, everything I've sacrificed for the illusion of humanity. And now it's all coming back at o

He craved the comforting soup I cooked, the neatly pressed shirts I left ready, the eyes that once looked at him with love. However, he had shattered it all with his own hands. In the days that followed, he drowned himself in memories and alcohol. Lilith had come looking for him. On the third day after the divorce, she showed up at his door holding a cheesecake. "Isaac, why have you been ignoring me these past few days? Is it still because of Ms. Walsh? Are you still mad at me?" Tears welled in her eyes as she reached for his hand. "I didn't mean it that day at the conference. I was just so jealous that she could stand by your side so openly…"