If the midnight burger pod ever release merch, one of them should be a cook book that starts off like a regular cook book that focuses on diner staples (burgers, fries, sandwiches etc) but then it transitions to mexican recipes (im thinking chile rellenos, pozole, cafe de olla). But then it transitions to weirder recipes like how to not burn coffee and how to make moonshine. Then Like the end of the cook book is like diagrams of quantum machines and math notes calculating the universe.
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I, like countless others, am feeling frustrated, angry, utterly heartbroken and next to hopeless because of all that has been happening to the beautiful people in Gaza. I'm not good with words, but anyone who has been following the events unfolding in Palestine knows that posts about Palestine are what keep it from dying on the public eye, and I'm glad to see that the engagement and content has been going strong even after 4 months.
All the people in Palestine ask of us is to never stop fighting for them.
Don't stop speaking up.
Don't stop protesting.
Don't stop boycotting.
Don't stop posting.
Don't stop sharing resources.
Don't stop engaging with any and all pro-Palestinian content.
I'm hoping against hope for Palestine, because the only other thing I could do would be to give up hope entirely. And that's nowhere near being a fucking option.
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I love being Palestinian. No apartheid, no genocide, no white person will take that from me. I have people tell me I should hate myself, or that they feel sorry for me almost everyday. Being Palestinian isn't a pity. That shouldn't be the first thing people think when someone says their Palestinian. They should think of the culture, the music, the food, our resistance and spirit. not the genocide claiming our lives. We are more than this genocide. Stop treating Palestinians like pity projects simply for being Palestinian.
Palestine is beautiful without compare and the spirit of Palestinians even more so. I yearn for the day when Palestinian can live emancipated, self determined, amidst olive groves and rivers, in a free Palestine
NSFW. GN!reader. Dom!reader. Sub!Muzan. Giving him a valentine's day handjob. Approx 800 words.
The demon king, Muzan Kibutsuji, had just two weaknesses. The first was sunlight, which he worked tirelessly to conquer. The second, however, was you, and there wasn’t a force on earth that could cure him of that.
“Yes?” he muttered as you walked into his study, his tone half-heartedly frustrated, his carmine gaze remaining fixed on his experiment. If the disturbance had come from anyone else, he would have their severed head mounted on the candelabra already.
“It’s Valentine's Day,” you informed him.
“And?”
At the first caress of your lips at the back of his neck, his heart surged against his ribs. Your fingertips brushed aside his raven curls, making his skin prickle and pebble. Gods, you made him feel so pathetically human at times, he despised it and craved it in equal measure. And he found himself leaning back into your touch, the swell of his ass pressed to your pelvis, trapping him deliciously between your body and his work desk.
“Did you forget?” you whispered against his ear, the flutter of your breath making his cheeks redden.
“No. I am aware of your asinine holiday. I simply have no intention of observing it.”
“Oh, tut tut… such a curmudgeon,” you chastised him, reaching around to stroke your hand over his abdomen, relishing the way it twitched beneath your touch. Muzan’s body could withstand almost any kind of damage fathomable with barely a flinch, but he found himself utterly powerless when it came to your tender caresses. “What am I to do with you, damnable villain of mine?”
“Stop that,” he muttered, his belly twitching as your fingertips teased the buckle of his belt. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Why must you insist on plaguing me when I’m working?” Still, he allowed you to continue, the corners of his lips curved just enough to display his approval at your teasing. “It’s almost impressive that you’ve remained with me for so long. My previous partners couldn’t claim the same; neither human nor demon. They hadn't the fortitude.”
“Really? I suppose I’m built differently. I find you quite delightful.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him. “What goes on in that little brain of yours? You are a strange and intriguing thing.”
Opening the fastening of his trousers, you reached inside, wrapping your arm around him to stroke his cock, setting a steady pace which made his neck arch and his head loll back in bliss. His throat rumbled beneath your lips as you kissed the side of his neck, pressing your teeth against his flesh. His skin was firm and unyielding, his body far warmer than any mortal’s ever could be.
He sucked in a breath. “Ah! Ha, you’ll have to bite a lot harder than that to get under my skin, you impudent thing…”
But despite his bravado, he was crumbling. You could tell by the way his grip tightened on the desk, pressing himself back against you, unwilling to put even a hair's breadth between the two of you, as if you alone held the key to his salvation. His perfect body, which refused to yield to time or injury, trembled beneath your touch. His cock was firm and heavily veined in your tunneled palm, the head of it a deep pretty pink and engorged with arousal.
“Oh Muzan,” you purred against his ear. “Look at you, such a sweet creature when your cock is being played with.”
“Nghh… silence…” he groaned.
A chuckle escaped you as his thighs trembled, forcing him to lean forward on the desk as he tried his best not to cum right there and then.
“I think you enjoy being teased, my lord. You enjoy my audaciousness after spending a thousand years surrounded by pleading mortals and sycophantic demons. And you love that I alone can command you, that all you have to do is submit and be pleasured when you're with me.”
"Oh fuuu-ck..." He turned then, almost faster than your eyes could follow, escaping your grasp and sitting on the edge of the desk, pulling you between his thighs. His head fell forward, his brow resting on your shoulder, panting breaths fanning across your chest as he needily guided your hand back to his cock. And with his face hidden he admitted the truth his pride would not otherwise allow. “Gods, your touch is as close to heaven as my wretched soul will ever be allowed.”
“You’re mine on earth or in hell, I'll follow you into the flames and help you steal back heaven piece by piece.”
With a choked cry he painted your hand with his seed, his cock throbbing in your grip as his lips sought yours, kissing you with such burning and human passion it pulled a muffled cry of ecstasy from both of you.
“Gods,” he panted, pushing out a heavy breath toward the ceiling. “You are remarkable.”
“I adore you,” you said, affectionately stroking your free hand through his curls. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Muzan.”
A pensive hum rolled through his chest before he smiled, the pointed tips of his canine teeth visible, simultaneously menacing and utterly endearing. “And to you, my wretched love.”
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
