#cw objectification

[toxicanonymity]

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. "Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say..."

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.

Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.

When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“Wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.

When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it’s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “Ya got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

[rottiens]

Omg I just had the most disgusting stepcest thought...

Stepdad!Toji has you on his lap spread eagle as he talks stepbro!Choso through giving you oral... Toji's hands wandering over your tits pointing out things in your pretty cunt etc while Choso is on his knees observing learning and eating you out.....

I know megumi makes more sense but I don't care lol...

✮ tags. . objectification, toji is a pervert, stepcest, he slaps your pussy. ꒱₊˚⊹ divider credits!

you sob. toji has been doing that for long minutes now and your plump clit is so sensitive that you don't know how much longer you can stand to keep being used as a demonstration of how to satisfy a woman before you reach orgasm without permission.

with the help of your arousal, he slides two thick fingers around your clit without actually touching it. he opens your pussy and spreads it apart so choso can watch closely how hard you're squeezing… choso leans forward, you see him lick his upper lip and mentally note everything his stepfather tells him.

"you have to wait for her body to ask to be used, okay? you have to be patient."

you tilt your neck down to look at choso sitting at toji's feet, his legs crossed, knees in opposite directions as he gazes intently at your open pussy.

"this is the most important place," toji murmurs behind your back, his silken, husky voice sending tingles through your body. "see how she reacts if I touch her here…" two fingers massage one of your breasts giving special care to the nipple, tugging at it as if hoping to draw milk from there, the other hand is in the middle of your legs moving to the tune of his words over your clit and between your wet folds. "you see how wet it is."

"I see that." muses Choso, almost drooling.

you moan again. "toji…" you call out to him, you try to cling to his arms and improve the position you're in but his arms hugging your legs below your knees, keeping you open for him with your thighs pushing up to your chest prevent you from doing so.

toji slaps your pussy.

"hold still." then he turns to choso. "do you want to try?"

"yeah, i'm ready. i want to taste it."

[tojisun]

um your ghostgaz blurb but also ghost letting gaz tip his head back onto his shoulder and squeezing at his base when he’s inside you so you can have a break from gaz humping your cunt until you both go dumb (and so simon can hear him keen out that ‘ah, right there, rightthere-‘ again)

AHHHHHHHHHHH YEA YEA !!! holy shit this is some good fuckin soup!!

“shh, pretty, ‘ve got you,” simon grunts in kyle’s ear, his words rumbling deeply.

it is a shared moment between the two of them, one that you’re once again a spectator of, but you don’t mind. not when you get a glimpse of kyle’s demeanour breaking for a quiet splintering in the hands of simon.

kyle bucks in his hold, trying to fuck into the tight fist of simon or into the warm press of your cunt, you don’t know, but it has simon tutting before forcing kyle to stop again. kyle keens, desperate for his orgasm, but god are you thankful for the break.

they had you for hours, either taking turns or taking you at the same time, and it has your body aching, pussy all sore and legs a trembling mush. simon massages at your thigh in placation, choosing to relay his affection through touch because this is still a scene—the one that the three of you easily fall into; the one where you are made to be used, often as a vessel to reflecr the guys’ love for each other, like you exist only for their mutual pleasure and not your own.

(objectification kink, the engine search bar had put out as a result of your question from when you were first included into their fold.

there were social media threads and official bdsm websites that expounded on the matter but you understood enough. it was pretty self explanatory, you thought, and, in the silence of your room, you trembled in excitement.

anticipation coursed through you in pinching waves, uncontainable as you waited for the weekend to come.)

so you lay there, watching with hunger as simon pressed his murmured kisses on kyle’s neck, his voice too quiet for you to pick up. but whatever simon is saying has kyle writhing, his body trembling, until he’s collapsing into simon’s chest, head tipped up for a breathy keen. you gasp out at the sound, your pussy squeezing at his cock for a moment, and kyle begins to weep.

simon rumbles a pleasured grunt, snarling something close to, “s’good f’me,” then his fist begins moving, bumping against your sore folds, then back up to the remaining shaft of kyle’s cock.

you blink, feeling saliva pool underneath your tongue as your desire peaks, bloating at the image they make—kyle, writhing and moaning, and simon jerking your lover so he can finally cum—

in you.

“almost—si—!” kyle screams, gasping at his heightening euphoria.

“good,” simon murmurs, slow and sensual, and his face all flushed. “cum f’me, baby. go on.”

you see the moment kyle’s orgasm razes him. his body locks up, his eyes are blown wide, and his jaw drops for a soundless moan. god, you know the feeling—that explosion of ecstasy that almost feels too surreal; like you’ve been ripped from your body and thrusted up into nirvana.

then, something warm trickles into you, spurting on the cushions of your walls. you cry, your exhausted body protesting at being pumped full again—they haven’t even let you squeeze out simon’s spill—and you swear you feel your stomach bulging. making room for kyle’s release.

it—

it shouldn’t turn you on but it does, and simon snaps his eyes back to you like he knows just what exactly is running in your head.

he grins, something that is a little too mean, and you realize that while kyle is done, simon has yet to get his fill.

fuck.

[miasmaghoul]

Pretty in Pink

Rating: E

Pairing(s): Mountain/Rain, Aeon/Rain, Mountain/Aeon/Rain

Contains: trans rain, heavy forcefem (including use of she/her pronouns for a transmasc character), objectification, light bondage (and a gag), gaping, object insertion, dacryphilia, spit/drool, a little praise and lots of degradation. (don't worry, it was all rain's idea)

Rain is a vision in the remnants of pretty pink lingerie, just a bralette and thigh highs; his panties and garter belt lie on the floor, torn off in a wanton frenzy. His arms sit bound to the headboard, tongue poking out from his ring gag as Mountain fucks into him with no mercy. So deep and thorough, really wrecking that gorgeous cunt.

Aeon lays at Rain's side, watching. Not allowed to touch, but drooling in more ways than one over the sight and sound of Rain being stretched, being ruined. Mountain has his legs pinned to his chest, the slap of skin on skin deafening. Aeon kneads at the mattress with eager claws, eyelids fluttering when Rain arches and soaks the sheets for what has to be the fourth time so far.

"Such a perfect slut for us," Mountain grunts, sinking his teeth into Rain's stockinged calf as his orgasm rolls through him in fierce waves. Aeon watches Rain's stomach intently, adoring the way each thrust of Mountain's cock makes it bulge.

"She's so well behaved," he admires, and the single mascara-stained tear that slips from the corner of Rain's eye makes his heart skip.

Mountain pulls out when his balls are finally empty, holds Rain's legs wide open so Aeon can crawl down and get a real good eyeful of how he can't even fully clench. A mix of cum of slick leak from his abused hole, but the way his clit jumps makes it so obvious that Rain still needs more.

"I think she's ready for you now," Mountain rumbles, licking sweat from his upper lip as Rain legs shake in his grip. Aeon chokes, cock flexing and slapping against his belly when Rain whimpers through the gag. "Hush," Mountain chides as Aeon scrambles to his side, trembling all over. "We all know you aren't done yet, princess."

"Fuck, look at her," Aeon huffs, the back of hjs hand ghosting down Rain's thigh. "I can see so deep inside."

Aeon hooks two fingers into his gaping cunt, and Rain tries so hard to bring his legs together. A hopeless endeavor considering Mountain's firm grip on his ankles, but the effort is cute.

"She's so loose now," Aeon comments, smearing the mess between Rain's milky thighs. "I don't think she'll even be able to make me cum."

Rain sobs at that, staring up at them with wide, watery eyes and pink, streaky cheeks. Aeon wants to gather that gorgeous face in both hands and kiss him until he can't breathe, but that will have to wait.

Besides, they have other plans to take his breath way.

"We can fix that," Mountain says, low, and the flash of fear in Rain's eyes when he gestures at the bedside table makes Aeon's stomach swoop. He hurries to open the drawer, and inside -

"Oh."

Aeon returns with Mountain's idea of a fix; a hard plastic tube filled with too-pink silicone, the end of it molded into the most picture perfect pussy he's ever seen. It's so fake looking he could laugh, but the moment Rain sees what he's holding all Aeon can do it lick his lips.

"Ae'n," Rain tries to say through the gag, tongue flopping behind the ring. "Don', 'lease don'...wan' you, not -"

"Hush," Mountain repeats, and this time Rain earns a slap to the cunt for his trouble. He squeals, writhes, and if Aeon has to wait any longer to stick his dick in something he's swears he's going to dissolve. "Give it here," Mountain tells him, and Aeon only drops the toy once before he manages it.

He can only hear the rush of his own blood as he watches Mountain gather Rain's copious slick and smear it over the plastic of the fleshlight, the surface shimmering in the lamplight. Mountain looks up at him as he works, tipping his head at the sight of Aeon's cock dribbling onto the floor.

"You should get that wetter first," he comments, gesturing with the toy. Pointing it between Aeon's pretty pink stiffy and Rain's wonderfully inviting mouth. "Go on, let her be useful."

When Aeon gets the hint, his knees wobble.

He's gentle when he threads his fingers into Rain's sweat-soaked hair, stroking a hot cheek along the way. Rain leans into the soft touch as best he can, a little reprieve from their combined cruelty - cruelty he'd damn near demanded this morning, already all dressed up before Mountain and Aeon had even finished breakfast. His eyes drift shut as Aeon's other hand cups his chin, and the sound Rain makes when Aeon pushes two fingers through the ring is nothing short of stunning.

"Good girl," Aeon breathes, and that's all the warning Rain gets before he's forced to gag. His eyes fly open, blown nearly black as Aeon gathers saliva on those two fingers. He makes the loveliest choking sound when Aeon pulls them out, smearing that wetness all over his cock with an ever-tightening grip on Rain's messy curls. "Is that enough, Mount?"

The other ghoul looks up from where he's dragging the fleshlight between Rain's swollen lips, hums his approval, and Aeon lets Rain's head thud back against the pillows. Wipes the excess saliva coating his fingers off on Rain's burning cheek before he joins Mountain at the foot of the bed once more. He brings the toy to his lips, spreads it open to spit inside, and when he hands it over Aeon mimics the action without question.

"Is she ready?" His voice has gone so thready, the idea of what he's about to do setting off a cascade of goosebumps. Mountain hums, nods, and with one last kiss to Rain's ankle he crawls up onto the bed. Pins Rain's legs down with little effort, the other ghoul far past fighting.

"Take a deep breath, angel," Mountain says as Aeon takes his place. He's drooling down his chin, hands shaking as he lines up the plastic tube with Rain's hole. "You can scream if you need to."

Aeon isn't sure if that part is meant for him or for Rain, but neither of them stays quiet when he pushes the toy inside him. Watches him stretch around it, no resistance for how wet the other ghoul is, the fleshlight sinking deeper and deeper until just the flared head of it sticks out of that beautiful cunt.

"Holy shit, she actually took it." Aeon's dizzy at the sight, at the truly sad sounds pouring from Rain's mouth. Clammy palms stroke Rain's quivering thighs, his gasping breaths music to Aeon's ears.

"She'll take more than that," Mountain tells him with a chuckle, and when Aeon looks up he finds the other ghoul fondling his own soft cock and Rain's still-covered chest. "Go on," he encourages, deeply amused. "See how much she likes it like this."

Aeon can't close his mouth, tongue flicking over dry lips as he touches spit-slick silicone. He watches Rain like a hawk, stares into those beautifully dazed eyes as his fingers trace the edges of the toy's lips. He doesn't know what to expect when he sinks a finger inside it, but it certainly isn't the shuddering, whorish moan that escapes the ghoul before him.

"Can she feel it?" Aeon pumps that finger in and out, and every motion makes Rain twitch. Surely he can't, but...

"No," Mountain says cheerily. "That's why she likes it so much."

"'uck 'e," Rain gurgles, grasping at the binds around his wrists. Trying so hard to to get any sort of stimulation, his clit so stiff and red that Aeon almost gives in to the urge to stroke it. Almost. "'lease, 'lease 'uck 'e, I -"

"What's that, love?" Mountain plucks a nipple through his bralette, a sharp pinch that makes Rain's eyes roll. "Use your words. We can't help you otherwise."

At long, long last, Rain weeps. Fat, hot tears of frustration flow like rivers down his cheeks, soaking into his hair and the pillow below, and it's with a tight growl that Mountain says,

"That's our girl."

He leans down and kisses Rain as Aeon lines up, fingers digging into Rain's waist, and the sound of their tongues dancing is accented by the clink of metal. Mountain brings the gag with him when he pulls back, and Aeon thinks he's never seen Rain look so desperate.

"Pleaae fuck me," he slurs, thick and urgent and with a trembling lower lip that Aeon yearns to bite. "Please, I'll...I'll be such a good girl, please -"

Aeon shoves his cock into that tight silicone, and like the whore he is Rain howls.

Aeon won't last more than five pumps, and he couldn't possibly care less.

[thehypnone]

More Rain tentacle content?😍 with Phantom or Dewdrop? Pleeeease? ❤️

light cw for dubcon and objectification/free use

While Rain is known to be the cruel one between him and Dewdrop, when it comes to sex, the fire ghoul can—and will—return the favor. When the inspiration hits.

This time Dewdrop barges into Rain’s room—without any regard to what the water ghoul was up to—with an order. “I want to play with my girlfriend, take off your pants.”

Rain’s stomach swoops a little at the tone and implication, but he doesn’t move—not right away.

“With…only with her? What about me?” he asks.

“Sorry, Rainy, but I only want her today,” Dewdrop replies with a smirk and shucks his own pants off. The water ghoul whines quietly, but obeys; doing the same.

Dewdrop crawls onto Rain’s bed and grabs his naked legs to maneuver him to his liking before getting into position himself. He lays on his stomach with his face between Rain’s thighs—his girlfriend has to come out to him first.

The water ghoul’s cunt is already damp and Dewdrop gathers up a little slick on his fingers and presses the digits against the spot under Rain’s clit. The membrane is still thick, but not for long.

Dewdrop starts to massage it gently while murmuring something so quietly that Rain can’t hear it. That’s the point—it’s not meant for him.

The water ghoul clenches his jaw as he feels something stirring inside of him. He’s getting wetter and the membrane under his clit is getting thinner and thinner at Dewdrop’s petting and Rain’s stomach swoops, and–

“There she is,” the fire ghoul sighs contentedly. The tentacle is happy to see him; she’s already wrapped around two of his fingers in a greeting. “Wanna play, hm?”

Rain opens his mouth to reply, but catches himself before any word slips out. Right.

Dewdrop doesn’t miss it, though.

“I hope you don’t plan on interrupting us, Rain,” he grumbles with a raised eyebrow. The water ghoul can only bring himself to shake his head with a quiet whine. He wants Dewdrop, too, but…but this is better than nothing, he supposes.

Once Rain’s tentacle is fully out and exploring her surroundings—her favorite partner—Dewdrop turns and lays on his back with his cunt in the tentacle’s reach.

“What am–what should I do in the, uhm… meantime?” Rain asks, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth for a moment.

“Whatever you want, I don’t care,” the fire ghoul shrugs, “read a book or something.”

Rain mewls and goes back to biting his lip. It does nothing to keep in the noise that rips out of him when his tentacle starts to graze Dewdrop’s warm and wet cunt.

He moans softly at the cold and slimy sensation on his clit. Dewdrop settles back on his elbows and with one hand reaches in between his legs to spread his wet folds to invite the tentacle to slip inside him.

“C’mere, babe,” he whispers, “you know how I like it.”

Rain could just about cry.

He throws his head back to at least spare himself the sight of his tentacle sliding into the fire ghoul’s cunt, but the hot and tight feeling all around him when it does would shake everyone’s world. As would Dewdrop’s soft moan—the prettiest sound of all, if you ask Rain.

But it’s not his today.

The thought makes another pathetic whimper bubble in Rain’s throat and he can’t stop it as he feels his tentacle attaching to Dewdrop’s inner walls with her suckers.

“Can you be quiet?” The fire ghoul rolls his eyes. “We’re trying to have some good time here, stop interrupting us.”

This time when Rain bites his lip, his fangs pierce the skin.

He knows he’s doomed when Dewdrop  starts to roll his hips, matching the tentacle’s rhythm. The water ghoul can’t help his legs tensing and his hips twitching.

“Next time I want her I’ll ask someone to help me with you,” Dewdrop scoffs and Rain knows he means it, “you’re too loud and wriggly.”

[hanasnx]

❝ hosanna. ❞

── darth vader x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 1.3k SUMMARY: you live to serve your sith lord. NOTES: as a former christian child, this song speaks to me on a level i cant explain. it is not a testament to my current religious standpoint, this is not pro or anti anything. merely a song analysis format in the perspective of a darth vader smut writer. "hosanna" by hillsong united. @xstarkillerx heavily influenced this fic. WARNINGS: heavy religious themes | sexual content | coitus | unprotected sex | virginity loss | objectification | worship | size difference | mentioned: blood, suicide.

Heal my heart and make it clean.

“Please, my lord.” your desperate croak echoes against the floor as you press your forehead to the stone in your kneel. You beg not for traditional mercy, but rightful extinction. To bask in the company of the Sith Lord DARTH VADER can only mean one thing. Finally, your mistake will be remedied. You’ll be scorched from the face of this planet by his righteous fire, fit to continue your spiritual journey with the help of his guided and generous hand. When it raises to clench around your neck, to squeeze the life from you, your soul will escape your wretched and human body.

Open up my eyes to the things unseen.

Sights you cannot fathom, planes you cannot reach, heavens you are unallowed to cross all become possible in the benevolence of his presence. A great exhilaration, the cathartic rush you’ve been bound to chasing your entire lifespan is at your fingertips. They prickle in anticipation, driving you to near tears over the discovery of divinity. To be at his feet overwhelms you, and you’re wracked with sobs. The pilgrimage you’ve been tasked with is at its end. Darth Vader stands before you, and you cannot bring yourself to utter another word in fear.

Show me how to love like You have loved me.

You’re brought to stand. His hand cups your chin, and you burn from his touch. By his grip, he raises your gaze, and you scan the ample length of his imposing form. Cloaked in black, shrouded in terrifying mystery, your weeping is quieted in the presence of his glory. The image of his expressionless mask in front of you runs your blood cold. You’ve seen his likeness etched into your planet’s culture, yet that awe is incomparable to the one that roars through your veins now. Legends depict his dark figure as a hunter. An insatiable pursuant that stops at nothing until the galaxy is cleansed. His abysmal love for all things is shown through his relentless protection of it. With a step, he shakes the very crust of the terrain he walks upon; with a wave of his mighty hand, corrupt civilizations fall and armies stab themselves so as not to face him; under his leadership, his empire thrives and spreads to the untouched and the perverted in his name. Dry mouth struggles to swallow as he remains silent, doubtlessly counting your sins as he scrutinizes you. You always knew you were to be judged, and here it is. Yet, you’re stupefied. His thumb against you does not feel like you thought it would, pinching your skin coldly.

Break my heart for what breaks Yours.

“Do I displease you?” you whisper. A single tear breaks from your eye in your tremble, grazing your cheek as it falls. A knuckle comes to dab at the moisture, and you flinch. His encasing is to hide his unseeable majesty from the galaxy. It is said a single look upon his true self will devour you whole, tearing you to shreds where you stand, and blaze your eyes from their sockets. If you survive the encounter, you’ll live out the rest of your blackened life consumed by his image as the last thing you saw, in blind search of it through endless deserts. Already you condemn yourself, cursing your own household for its transgressions against him and his vision, your appearance is unsatisfactory, your soul has been dipped in gold to weigh down the scales. You’ve been too prideful, vain, greedy. How could you have ever hoped to be here with him when you’re a demon in skin? He senses it, he must. You will atone.

Everything I am for Your kingdom's cause.

There is nothing you won’t do in his name. There is nothing that will keep you from him. Your boundless devotion towards the Sith Lord cannot be bought, cannot be measured. You are his vessel, a path to reach others, your eyes are his eyes. Can he see himself through you? If he, a being of endless power, were to attempt to inhabit your body, would you combust into ashes under his boot? Still, you try. Storms bend to his will, mountains bow by his word. What could you offer to him that is not within his scope? “Anything.” you plea through a broken voice, your hands hooking into your outerwear to pull it off your shoulders. His hand releases your jaw, and you step back for any offense you may have caused. Since his command suspends, you continue. Your straps are tugged down, and your knees buckle, dropping to the ground. Desperately, lovingly, you bare yourself to him, you crawl to his feet in worship.

As I walk from earth into eternity.

There’s nothing you don’t give him throughout the night. Anything you can comprehend is surrendered to him. You’re afraid. While he’s inside you, you’re afraid. Rooted deep, sheathed inside your purity, touching sacred parts of you that has never been offered to anyone else. You’re afraid of him. He’s said nothing, exhalting himself using you as you’ve invited him to, but in your eyes he’d need not ask. You are his. Large hands grasp your torso, bunching up the fabrics of your clothes, ripping seams more and more with each thrust. The pain of consummation is one you thank him for with lachrymal essence dripping down the corners of your eyes, wetting your hairline. The sins of the flesh are a stranger to you, until he breaks your virginity, fucking you through the blood. So as not to surprise him, you swallow your cry with a palm over your lips. Disillusioned with your surroundings, focused on the heat where your bodies meet, you notice how he’s changed his pace. A gentler angle to his hips as he caresses your insides with his member. Regardless of its stiffness, the velvety outer layer is sweet against your walls. True rapture introduces itself to you, growing in pleasure with each stroke. His cape veils your nakedness to the outside world, shielding you as he presses you to him in a surprising demonstration of humanity. Symbolically, your forehead kisses the crest of his headpiece, a stark contrast from the stone you’d bowed on, he is showing you forgiveness. Humility. He is grateful. The sensation of being filled by him becomes not only bearable, but welcome. Your wails are no longer wracked with the despair of ache, but of staggering passion. Newfound life flows through you, rejuvenating you, manifesting in the beads of sweat on your brow, and the tears of thankfulness as they stream from your blurring gaze. On the edge of your peak, you take pride. He wants you. He wants you. He wants you.

Hosanna, Hosanna.

You can’t see yourself, but you’re outside your body. The warmth of existence embraces you, curling around you like smoke. There’s nothing but comfort here. Nothing but a stretch of unconditional love and acceptance. Finally, finally you’re here. You’ve reached your heavens. You can feel it all around you. It is the light. It is eternity. It is. It is. It is.

You are. You are. You are.

As you open your eyes, the fleeting feeling dissipates. The prickle softens, your breathing evens out, the white hot sensation of your orgasm passes over you. No. No. No. It was right there, it was in your hands. You’re alerted as he pulls from you, the wet sounds of your joint pleasures spill from your spasming entrance, pouring down your body that still remains. Your body that drew your soul back in from salvation. Darth Vader does not realize he’d given you a taste of the Force in his ecstasy, entwining your souls to see through each other’s eyes for one honored moment. Nor does he foresee the future of you begging for him over and over again, just for a mere taste of it at your climax.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

i keep thinking about killer, particularly stage 2, “humanizing”/“personifying” objects like weapons knives gaster blaster and animals like cats and rabbits ect. but dehumanizing actual people either subconsciously and consciously. likely both.

and like maybe it’s because he subconsciously relates more to the idea of being a toy or object or pet, and less so to the idea of being human or monster or anything resembling that.

and of course, the dehumanizing of others is likely effected both trauma, dissociation, his meta knowledge, and coping mechanisms.

easier to kill and torture if you distance yourself from your victims by viewing them as lines of code or running on script (beliefs and views likely started and encouraged by chara)—and now it’s mostly instinct and normal to him now. perhaps even a suppressed disdain for those who are either still trapped by their codes (so are you buddy), and/or a suppressed hatred/rage for those who are more “human” or “monster-like.”

idk if that makes any sense, but like a hatred for humanity obviously. But also like a flavor of misanthropy towards Monsterkind? But he also doesn’t consider himself one of them. Perhaps he views him being neither monster nor human as yet another way he is ‘superior’ or otherwise above/different than most.

[tiredsn0w]

Thought about doing something like this for a while. Since I only have 1 sheet left in my sketchbook, I decided to do it traditionally.

The intent was to make it into a series of a sort...

[officialgreenlantern]

All you are is a fuck-doll and a violent attack dog who can't tell the difference between actual love and someone just using you. You've never had anyone ever actually love you so of course you can't recognize it. Because there's no reason for anyone to love you.

I'm not a DOG. DON'T CALL ME THAT.

I am not a dog; I am not a attack hound, i am not a violent dog.. i am not a dog....

And i can tell the difference- Barry loves me, and i know he does you are just- just messing with my head yeah that's what you are doing- i can't trust your words, i shouldn't trust those words-

..there is a reason for people to love me- there is...

[rottiens]

PRETTY IN THE DARK | GETŌ SUGURU

✮ tags. . noncon/dubcon vampire getō x human fem reader, blood, objectification, 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune. | WC: 2.3K

✮ about. . in your desire to protect your family, you end up making a deal with the devil.

He is sitting in the dining room when you enter the room. Your body doesn't react with a shrug of muscles as it was usual to do every time you encountered him wandering around as if he owned your apartment, but your heartbeat detonates as if someone has pushed you from behind and you plummet into the void.

Shadows take over every corner of your place as if this were their and Suguru's home and not yours. You breathe, exhaling the fright that has frozen your veins and move towards the switch blindly, sliding your fingers along the wall until you manage to make light.

Suguru squints his eyes being struck by the ace of light. He is sitting in one of the chairs with his elbows on the small wooden table, he has a half bun tying part of his hair up, the rest of the black hair falls down his back perfectly. The turtleneck sweater is new, it makes him look more elegant and you almost laugh at how formal he looks.

"I wasn't expecting you today," you say approaching, dropping the keys of the apartment on the table surface. You want to tell him he's quite the dramatist for setting this scene for you, the waiting in the dark in your apartment god knows what for so long, the absence of light, the black clothes… you wonder how long he's lasted waiting there for you, if he's gone through your kitchen, if he's rummaged through your clothes.

His clear eyes scan your face as if reading what you're thinking, then he notices the paper bags you drop next to your keys before answering. "I thought I'd stop by for a snack" He replies with a mocking tone.

"What's this?" you reach out to grab the glass bottle in front of him. Inside a red, almost black liquid swirls amusedly as you move it back and forth in search of something to give you a clue as to what it might be and you pray it's not what you're thinking.

"Beet juice." The confession makes you scrunch up your face in distaste. Okay, it wasn't what you were thinking but this doesn't make it any less gross. "It's good for the red blood cells."

You squint to examine it better. Was he giving you a gift? Was that what he meant? The vampire who had threatened to kill your family if you didn't feed him your blood?

"I'm not going to drink it." You set the bottle down on the table with a thud.

"You will. I need you to be healthy." There it is, the reason. You should have known better.

Suguru pulls his hands away from his face that drop his jaw, invisible hands squeeze your chest at the sight of him again, it was a strange feeling having him erase your memory after feeding on you to make you forget details about him that you don't need to know, just in case you decide to expose him to the church. So seeing him always makes you feel uneasy, he is handsome, his small eyes are intimidating and the whole aura around him makes you feel tiny.

"Shall we get this over with?" you raise an eyebrow looking to put an end to an encounter that shouldn't be any longer than necessary. You move the sleeve of your sweater up revealing your right wrist which begins to heal, at the juncture are two dots on your skin, around them the flesh takes on a yellowish color.

Suguru gets up from his seat and without taking his eyes off you sits on the chair next to you. His fingers take your hand gently, without wasting time he brings it to his mouth and his lips brush against your skin causing you to tingle, he breathes in your scent, breathes in the essence of your skin with his eyes closed.

"Stand up," he suddenly orders.

You move against the wall, trembling with fear and anticipation. Suguru is in front of you taking up all the space that allows you to see the rest of the room, your gaze riveted on the silver cross hanging from his neck and you snort at the irony.

With his finger he lifts your chin and makes you look at him, you want to run away, but you force yourself to be brave by chewing on the bottom of your cheek.

"You don’t have to compelled me." Suguru raises an eyebrow, questioningly. "I'm not going to scream."

Surprise marks the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth in a brief smile. "You want to feel the pain?"

You shake your head before pulling your face away from his finger yanking back. "I just want to know what it feels like." You feel guilty. A bitter cocktail rises in your stomach, you think it's unfair to have to be protecting your family without knowing exactly how you do it, what happens before, during or after. You feel guilty for not feeling pain.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he speaks softly. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut ignoring the hotness that suddenly chokes you.

Instead of answering you reach out your hand, you hear him chuckle softly and when you sense him lowering your hand back to its place you turn hurriedly to look for him, wondering why. The hope that he is going to let you go today crosses in front of you.

"I want from the vein in your neck."

You swallow. Suguru can't disguise staring at your throat and how it rises and falls. Wordlessly you push down on the fabric of the sweater collar and let him see the vein pulsing rapidly thanks to your racing heart.

Suguru moves closer to you, his teeth grazing you as if testing how fast he can break the skin. Then, he deposits a kiss that makes you clench your lips to keep from moaning, his tongue glides in wet circles that that warm the area and your body trembles.

"Hold still."

Is all you hear before suguru opens his mouth in an inhuman way and sinks his long fangs into your neck, the pain making you moan involuntarily. His fangs are sharp needles that sink into the flesh and pierce until they leave two holes just enough for blood to spill out of the vein. The piercing pain stops, instead you feel his soft lips sucking like he's giving a hickey.

"It hurts…" you whimper.

The sounds of your blood gurgling in his mouth deafens you, you drop your eyelids as he pushes your head further to the side in an awkward position so he has the space to go deeper and chase the spilling crimson stream.

A hand-shaped snake crawls up your navel, searches for the button of your pants and in seconds undoes it to find your panties. Suguru stops feeding to speak in your ear.

"I'm going to make you feel better." His voice is almost unrecognizable, less friendly, deeper and more terrifying. "I'm going to keep feeding on you and you're going to cum on my long fingers."

You don't even respond. You can't complain because of the way your hands lose feeling and your knees buckle. Suguru goes back to sucking as the pad of his cold fingers push your pussy lips wide open and squeeze your clit back and forth almost in a lazy way. You squint harder to imagine that you're not there, that you're somewhere else and this isn't happening. Because what kind of person would you be if you felt pleasure because this creature, who every week comes to feed on you, is making you feel good?

He slips a finger easily inside you masking the pain in your neck with pleasure. Suguru pushes it in as if searching for something, then adds another finger and a louder moan tears your throat. Suguru pauses to lay his forehead on your throat, giving one last lick to the open wound that slowly stops bleeding and just lies there enjoying his long fingers parting your wet pussy.

"You taste so good when you're aroused," he growls, thrusting slowly. "I can hardly stop myself."

His fingers increase the intensity of his strokes, massaging your pussy in an erotic back-and-forth, scissoring his fingers and thumb touching your clit. It doesn't take your body long to reach orgasm, shattering you to pieces and making the lack of blood make you feel dizzy. Helpless and weak, you cling to his sweater, intoxicated in the peculiar perfume that envelops him until you begin to see black and everything becomes one big swirl that makes you fall into a deep sleep.

. . . When you wake up you are in your bed, lying on your back with one of your plush blankets covering your legs. You try to sit up but your body aches, especially your neck. You bring your fingers to where the wound should be but find the soft fabric of one of your scarves wrapped around your neck.

"Was I too rough?" This time, your body does react by curling up on the mattress. You pull your legs up to the level of your chest and search for the voice that burst into your room.

You find him as a long figure standing at the edge of the bed looking down at you from above. Did he care? Clearly not, because his mischievous-looking smile tells you otherwise.

You begin to tremble as he approaches, your gaze following him as you watch him come closer to you. The bed sinks with his weight, he reaches for one of your arms hugging your knees and pulls it towards him, Suguru brings the back of your hand to his mouth and leaves a kiss there, and the scene is so intimate that it feels awkward to you.

His body sensation is not icy cold as it normally is, his warm hands mimic the warmth of an ordinary man and you have a theory that it is due to the temperature change your fresh blood briefly carries in him, this only lasts a couple of minutes after all.

You wonder what he's doing, what he's playing at. Your heart leaps out of your chest the moment Suguru starts a path of kisses from your palm to your wrist, your blood turns icy cold after he stops on your wrist, you stutter his name, you think he's going to bite you again but what he does instead takes you by surprise.

Suguru gives you a long lick, the taste of your body cream diluted in the day's sweat soaks his tongue, then he closes his lips around the area and makes a hickey. Red, small, and when he pulls away to contemplate his creation it almost looks like the shape of a map. He crawls from your skin reluctantly and looks at you between heavy lashes, there's lust in his gaze mixed with hunger and desire and you hate yourself for the way your body reacts, your nipples harden and your pussy gets wet for him again.

"What-"

"No one touches my property." Your eyes widen. "This should carry a message to whoever you're fucking, unless of course, you wish me to show up in person to your job."

You reeked of man perfume and it made him want to throw up. He didn't want to smell someone else's scent on you when he was feeding.

"That's not of your business," you spit with a boiling face and a flutter in your stomach, tugging at your hand to escape the trap it had fallen into but it's only in vain because his strength is triple yours and you don't move an inch. "Our deal is just my blood."

"Perhaps," suguru murmurs, flashing you in a brief smile just the tips of the fangs that a moment ago were digging into you. "But it will be your fault when I bring their head as an offering along with another bottle of beet juice."

You struggle to hold back tears of helplessness. He grins again and his teeth cut through the darkness, you clear your throat to fight back and say it's not fair however Suguru gets up before you can.

Gracefully, he gives a brief tour of the room. You are embarrassed that he finds it in this state, books on your bed, shoes out of place and clothes on the floor. You were in a rush this morning, you were going to be late and you prioritized time over tidying your safe space as you rummaged through your uniform shirt.

He removes the hair tie that grips his mane and lets it fall all the way down his back like a dark waterfall as he looks down at the jeans on the floor, on top of it is a pair of light pink panties that he observes undisguised. As if every move is planned he ties all his hair back into a high ponytail, the movements causes the black sweater to ride up his abdomen revealing a wink of toasted skin, with a line of hair revealing itself at the edges of his pants and rising blurred to his belly button.

"How are you feeling?" He asks suddenly, dropping his arms to either side.

"Do you even care?" you reply curtly, looking down at his feet. You glance up at him in time to see him smirk, clearly amused by your attitude.

Suguru moves towards you again and you wonder when you will stop feeling not enough in his presence. He sits at your feet, puts his hand to his mouth and bites down hard. Your body squirms at the action, raw fear showing on your wrinkled nose and furrowed brow.

"Drink," he says reaching out, droplets of blood slipping onto your favorite blanket.

"No."

"It's not a request, sweetheart." You don't understand what he intends by this but you don't seek to make him angry either, so you lean down and wrap your lips around his skin to finally suck the blood that spurts out of him.

The taste of iron is so strong it's unbearable. Your mouth fills with saliva and your stomach knots warning you with rejecting what you are drinking, you want to move away but his hand is behind the back of your neck pulling you closer to him and preventing your escape.

"Keep sucking. Your wound will heal faster that way."

You blink faster pushing away the tears that peek out, you close your eyes tightly becoming oblivious to what you are doing, his fingers pampering your hair as if you were a pet. Stroking you gently.

"Swallow. That's a good girl."

[tojisun]

i am once again thinking about ghostgaz x reader ):

thinking about pussy inspection; gaz fingering you sensually, pretending that this is all clinical—“oh, would you look at how your cunt’s sucking my fingers in. it’s a good grip, for sure. a little too wet, but that’s never unwanted. hmm, LT would actually prefer a wetter cunt.”

while leaving you writhing on the bed, hiccupping and crying and mewling for him to stop because you’re so close! so close—

kyle pulls his fingers out with a sigh and taps—or, well, wipes—them on the inside of your thighs, before saying, “not yet, greedy girl. LT’s got to try it first; have a second examination, an’ all.”

and only then, with kyle’s recognition of his existence, does simon join in. he stalks close, standing behind kyle, and gives the younger boy a soft kiss before turning to you with darkened eyes.

“show me,” he grunts, sounding so uninterested if not for the tent underneath his sweats. you barely get to follow his order before simon’s manhandling you with a displeased click of his tongue.

the sound it makes has you curling into yourself, shame and weariness battling each other until you’re all coiled up, tensed, and simon sighs again. fuck. why do you keep on disappointing him?

“shh, LT. don’t be too mean,” kyle croons, brushing his fingers through simon’s hair. “give ‘er a chance, won’t you?”

simon only grunts, not giving him a proper reply, but kyle smiles like simon’s said enough. he then turns to you with the same beaming expression.

“see? all yours now!”

you don’t understand the real extent of their dynamic but you see enough of it to know that this? this is all a play—good man, bad man—and you just so happened to be their newest toy.

[mcondance]

caspian please you can keep me locked up in the basement of the castle and only come down when you need something to fuck

[thehypnone]

size queen rain with a huge thing for object insertion and objectification being put on all fours next to mountain during rehearsal with a bunch of drumsticks in his ass. just a drumstick bucket :3

[wrathofrats]

copiaether.. tmasc aeth,,, getting dicked down and praised by his papa …. ;P

Listen .. aethers a good little quint!! Always right beside his papa for any of his needs!! Loves to be his good ghoul, and really why does aeth have a cunt if it’s not for his beloved papa to fuck whenever he wants to?

Also mmm the idea of the papas fucking the ghouls but only ever calling them ghoul. No gender, doesn’t act like they’re equal, just a ghoul, made to fuck.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I don't wanna bother you too much but there's ANOTHER thing—

Killer being Nightmares first recruit and the right hand man. All of this is just worse if Nightmare treats Killer like a tool or a puppet.. killer doesn't need a lot of help, it's enough he gets something new because other than that he's just. So used to this. So it's fine, he survives

But then Dust perhaps becomes the second recruit and Nightmare notices that bitch needs help, and so he starts finding ways to help Dust so he can work more efficiently, but in the process of that he grows attached. This happens with all the others, and he just ends up caring for them and stuff, yk like Nightmare getting character development and it becomes a family. But they bully Killer bc ya they bully killer..

So Killer was live witness to everything around him just. Like he's witnessed the worst of Nightmare but then Nightmares there starting to care, and it's all so nice and it's so sweet how everyone is healing and he's just not a part of it.

Another case may be Nightmare never breaking out of old habit of treating Killer like a mere toy, a replaceable one for that. And also maybe the others just learn to treat Killer like shit because of that. But also Killers annoying and messes everything up and everything so it's justified, it's fine. It's fine. ...it's fine......... right...?

It’s been like 4 days since this was sent. Im sorry anon, but i promise you aren’t bothering me 🙏.

But honestly yeah i can completely see something like this—like a form of targeting, singling out. And it’s made worse if a figure of authority, Nightmare, is setting this example—intentionally/knowingly or not—and others follow along, either wanting approval or to fit in at first, and then eventually it becomes normal the more people join in or otherwise don’t stop it.

That type of group thinking mob mentality can lead to dehumanization/objectification, which makes it easier to escalate to abusive or even downright torturous actions and behaviors. I can think of a real life example of a situation similar to it, even.

And in this type of Bad Sans “family,” i honestly think killer would be better off escaping before it escalates to something even worse—such as one of them killing him, regardless of his ability to Reset. Stage 2 isn’t likely to care enough about himself or fear death or violence enough to try and leave, so being in Stage 1 (or potentially 3, although with more violence), is probably the only way he’d save himself or even consider leaving.

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 3: Phineas Strikes a Deal

1538 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, dubcon undressing, objectification

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Colossians 3:22

Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to curry their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord.

~~~

The more Leannan learned about Phineas, the more dangerous he realized they were. All Leannan wanted was to live with someone rich and comfortable, but he had batted his eyes at the wrong person and now he was stuck with some kind of killing machine. He could only pray that Phineas stayed true to their intentions of selling Leannan.

The kiss didn’t bode well.

But Leannan’s hopes were high when in the afternoon of the next day they finally reached civilization: Donda Island. They took a small hire-boat across the river to the island, and went through a checkpoint where club-wielding guards tried to take away Phineas’ sniper rifle, but Phineas showed them some mysterious papers and they were let through, still armed.

The city that occupied the island was dense, eclectic, and noisy. Ancient surviving buildings crowded together with newer constructs, which were in turn made out of materials scavenged from the old. The main avenue extending from the dock was lined with street vendors selling all kinds of food – various meats on sticks, fried dough in a hundred different forms, and the occasional rarity of oranges or coffee.

Leannan was entranced by the riches on display. Surely, he could find a wealthy buyer here.

“Keep up!” Phineas snapped at him.

He needed to find a buyer here.

Phineas lead the way not far to a long, low, brick building, two stories tall, heavily weathered by time but painted in bright, abstract murals. They again flashed a piece of paper to the guards out front, and they and Leannan were let in, flanked by an escort. They were lead to a grand hall; the floor was covered in straw, and a wooden stage filled one end of the room, with stairs leading up to it. On it were three wooden chairs, intricately carved with reliefs of plants and animals.

Phineas approached the stage, and Leannan and their escort of guards followed. Phineas stopped at a respectable distance, shoved their hands into their pockets, and waited.

Leannan’s heart leapt.

He was worth a town. He know that, because he’d been traded for a town before. They were about to speak to someone very, very important, it was obvious from everything, the building, the guards, the chairs – the thrones, really.

He could end up living here. He looked around, allowing a smile to creep over his face. God is good.

A guard entered from the wings of the stage.

“Councilman Brochard!” she announced, sweeping out a dramatic arm, and a single man entered the stage. He was perhaps in his sixties, pale, with thinning light brown hair gone half gray. He was clean, well-dressed, and well-fed, and carried himself with confidence and power.

He sat in the center chair. He observed the room for a moment, then spoke.

“Phineas Kaŝpafisto. The bounty hunter from the southern deserts. You received my summons.”

Phineas nodded.

“Yes, Councilman Brochard.”

“Hmm.” Brochard’s eyes darted around, and he raised a hand.

“Leave us.”

Like clockwork, every guard in the room hurried out, leaving only Phineas, Leannan, and the Councilman.

“Who is this?” Councilman Brochard gestured at Leannan.

“He can be here,” Phineas said confidently.

“He will not betray my plans?”

“Never. He’s an Iowan, he is bound to secrecy.”

Brochard raised his eyebrows and looked more closely.

“Why bring an Iowan to these negotiations?” he asked.

“How about we get to the matter at hand?” Phineas said.

Councilman Brochard stared at Phineas intently before steepling his fingertips together and leaning forward. “So you can do it? You can kill King Gauthier?

“Can I?” Phineas laughed, “Of course I can.”

Brochard sat back.

“Name your price.”

“I want land and a title here,” Phineas said immediately, “I want to settle down, and join your council.”

Leannan couldn’t help but look at Phineas in surprise. That hadn’t been the goal he was expecting.

“That…” Councilman Brochard was surprised, as well. “That’s a large ask.”

“So is the death of a king,” Phineas countered.

“… We could offer you… some land, perhaps…” Councilman Brochard waffled.

Phineas smiled. “That’s where the Iowan comes in,” he pressed a hand on Leannan’s back, pushing him forward a step, “I get my land and power, and you get a dead king and the last holy concubine on earth.”

Brochard was speechless for a few seconds, shifting in his chair.

“Tell me about this Iowan,” he finally asked.

“It can speak for itself,” Phineas said, patting Leannan on the shoulder before stepping back.

Leannan was on the spot – but that was where he thrived. He took a little bow and smiled demurely.

“What would you like to know, sir Councilman?”

“How many masters have you had?” asked Brochard.

“Six, sir.”

“Hmm. Not bad. How did you survive the massacre of Iowa City?”

“I was sold shortly before, to my first master.”

“That makes you… How old?”

His one flaw.

“Thirty-one, sir.”

Councilman Brochard made a noise of distaste.

“And what… Condition are you in, I see a bandage on its neck.” He addressed the second part to Phineas.

“A minor scratch,” Phineas assured him, “It will heal in no time.”

“But does it have scars? Tattoos?” he tsked and waved a hand, “Just undress for me, would you?”

“Sir?” the request caught Leannan off-guard.

“Strip, dear thing. You don’t mind, do you?” Councilman Brochard addressed Phineas again.

“Of course not,” Phineas said.

Leannan felt a horrible mix of hope and dread. He wasn’t completely unmarked – but if the Councilman didn’t mind, he’d have his ticket to luxury.

“Go on then,” Phineas grinned at him, “Do as the Councilman says.”

Needing no further encouragement, Leannan pulled off his first layer, a loose navy short-sleeved shirt. Not rushing, not stalling, moving at the perfect pace. This wasn’t a show, but it wasn’t not a show. He held out the shirt to the side, suspended it for just a moment, then dropped it. Next: a more fitted faded cyan shirt, full of holes. Fashionable holes. He peeled it off and added it to the pile, checking on the Councilman’s reaction through batting eyelashes. The man sat, completely entranced, staring at Leannan.

Perfect.

Leannan slowly lifted the edge of his last top layer, a dark blue skintight long-sleeved shirt. He pulled it over his head, tossing his curls in an I-don’t-even-realize-what-I’m-doing way. The small burns on his left ribs were visible now, but he didn’t draw attention to them; instead he bent slightly, necklace dangling, and took hold of the waistband of his parachute pants. He shimmied his hips just so and scooted the waistband down, down, over his hips and butt and down his thighs before allowing them to drop, and stepping forward out of them, shaking his shoes free. All that was left were his boxers. He repeated the same motions, a little slower, pretending to be shy. He could see Phineas out of the corner of his eye leaning slightly to get a better look at his ass as it was revealed. Councilman Brochard gruffly cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. Leannan dropped the boxers and took another step forward.

“Should I take off my shoes as well?” he asked innocently, tilting his head at Brochard and clasping his hands in front of himself. Placed to obscure, but not to hide. Modest, but available.

The Councilman shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Would you like to take a closer look?” Leannan put his hands out to the side and spun slowly in place.

“That won’t… be necessary,” Councilman Brochard repeated. He nodded at Phineas. “You have a deal.”

Leannan beamed.

“Excellent,” Phineas smirked, “When can I see my new home?”

“We can discuss details tomorrow,” Brochard said, “But, to be clear, you get nothing until Gauthier is dead.”

Phineas nodded easily. “Kompreneble. And the Iowan remains with me until I have my seat and house, I understand.”

Brochard hesitated at that, but nodded back. “Of course.”

Phineas snapped his fingers at Leannan. “Put your clothes back on.”

As Leannan redressed, shaking straw off his clothes, Phineas and the Councilman discussed plans for meeting the next day, and boarding for the night for Phineas and Leannan. Leannan was relived to hear that he’d be sleeping in a real bed, and eating real food – but was less relieved when Phineas agreed that the two of them would be sharing a room.

As they left the council hall, stepping out into an overcast evening, Phineas let out a hearty cackle.

“Just when I think you might have a little self respect, you prove me wrong!” they leaned into Leannan’s personal space, “You must be seriously desperate for some rich old man dick.”

Leannan didn’t see the point anymore in maintaining a facade around Phineas.

“What I’m seriously desperate for,” he retorted, “Is a safe, normal life, as safe and normal as my life could ever be, anyway.”

Phineas lead the way back to the main street.

“So there are more than a couple brain cells bouncing around in there,” they quipped, perusing the food stalls.

Leannan didn’t respond; just sulked, until Phineas shoved a paper basket of fried potato wedges into his hands.

“Here,” they said begrudgingly, “You did good.”

~~~

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