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shiroi---kumo · 10 months

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( @aquaticsoul )

📚✨ +

For probably the thousandth time, his eyes rest on Valo from where he's sitting in his corner, back pressed against it and knees pulled up to his chest. It seems whatever book the man has gotten his hands on is intriguing enough for him to not notice the gaze, or perhaps he just doesn't care enough to spare the former musician a single glance.

Slowly does Sielu lower his head, hiding the inevitable onslaught of tears from the rest of the world.

It isn't like he has much to offer in terms of conversation. His voice has less patience for him than even Herba did, so it's probably really stupid to even desire such a thing.

He doesn't know if it's bravery, desperation, selfishness, or pure idiocy that makes him finally cave into something he wants, but if he has to guess it's the looming fear that he'll die without making himself at least somewhat clear.

His days are surely numbered if how horrible and deeply exhausted he feels physically is any indication - it's part of the reason that there now rests a gem of blue on Aamunkoitto's wrist - and really he thinks just needs to tie up his loose ends. Just in case.

He waits until he hears the book close. He wants to believe he still has some decency, even if it feels like an eternity before there's space for him to speak.

"Valo?" he starts, face still buried so at least he won't have to look at whatever disgust may or may not be directed at him. "You'd... at least believe me if I said I'm trying, right? And... that-"

His arms pull his knees closer to his body. He'd had it all planned, yet he feels like he'll be punished somehow. It doesn't matter, he supposes, because he can't in good faith use a tainted phrase towards someone undeserving. He simply has to speak Misterican again, despite the fact it feels strange on his tongue after so long, like it's been banned because it has.

"That... rakastan sinua. You believe that, right?"

·:¨༺ ✩★✩ ༻¨:·. The sound of his voice never gets any easier and it's not because the historian doesn't want to hear it. It's because he can't begin to imagine the pain that his friend is in and has been in for only the Celestial Mother knows how long. He can't begin to imagine what was done to him or what he's been through and he doesn't feel like he's been empathizing that well enough. He doesn't know how.

Everything he says and does brings a foul look into blue eyes and it only makes mint green sink to the floor wondering how he's supposed to reach him when there are so many walls around the musician's heart. It feels as though whatever or whoever put Sielu in this position has full control over his body and heart. No matter what he says, his words don't reach him.

They get twisted somewhere along the way like an invisible translator that warps the Misterican of orange's words into some vile message he didn't even say. He may as well just be blowing his mist in the man's face every time he opens his mouth. Even if his mask remains firmly on the effects of it's power still seem to be felt.

Sielu won't set in chairs with them. He won't sleep in the bed with them and he won't allow them any where close enough to touch him. It's all so concerning. He wants nothing more than to help his friend so, his eyes are rising in the direction of the small scratchy sounding voice the very second his name is spoken.

He wants to know if he believes him. He wants to know if he believes that the man of the ocean waves is trying and that the musician still loves him. He wants to know if he believes and the historian and feel his heart shatter in his chest at the very notion. His eyes downcast as his brows upturn and the man of orange is doing the only thing he can think to do in that moment - all while wondering if he's just about to make it worse.

He has to try. For Sielu, he has to try whatever he possibly can.

He needs the man to know that his heart swells for him. He needs the man to know that what he sees before him is someone still worthy of all the love in the world. A blessing even. A blessing that the Celestial Mother managed to protect his life so that he could survive and they could find their ways back to each other.

After everything they've been through and all they've experienced. They survived and they found each other again. That was all that mattered. They were here in this moment, together again after all this time. Celestial Mother be blessed. Being able to see those blue eyes again made it all worth it.

Does he know how much of a blessing he was?

Precious like a treasure. Beloved and cherished. He would do whatever he needed to in order to protect that man. To make sure he never needed to suffer again. Even if the man continued to reject him and refused to believe their own words of affection.

"Yes, I believe you." He sounds resisting the urge to speak in a much more familiar tongue as the historian allows his form to lower down to the floor so he can set at the same level just before the musician. He's careful not to slide into a tongue much more comfortable despite both of them knowing it since birth. He's taken notice to the way it makes the other's skin crawl and the way he shifts uncomfortably when it is spoken.

Who harmed you so thoroughly they ripped your heritage right out of you? Of all the Mistericans I knew you were the most proud of who you once were.

No matter, I'll love you as you are now.

"I know you're trying, Sielu. I see it in you every day and I see it in you right now. You can speak with me any time you like, my friend."

Mint green keeps staring down at his lap as he finds it difficult to look up at ocean blue if only because he doesn't want to upset the man further than he already is. He doesn't want to fumble the wind with him now as he seems to keep doing over and over in all these past weeks.

"I know you do, Sielu. I know you mean that, when you say it. I would never dare question those words from you. I know you never speak them lightly. I just - "

He's sighing again as the hands folded in his nap start to push against themselves and the historian finds himself picking at his nails as he does so.

" - I see all your efforts my friend and I understand that it is going to be some time before you feel comfortable again. I acknowledge that you have had events occur I cannot even begin to imagine. I am sorry for that. Both in sympathy for what you have experienced and in sorrow for my complete lack of understanding. I apologize for any discomfort and trouble I might have caused you. I have not been a very good friend to you Sielu and for that you have my sincerest apologies."

#v; nothing comes easy #guest muse: opettaja valo #aquaticsoul #ask || inquires of the star #tw; long post #tw; depression #tw; abuse #tw; objectification

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rottiens · 2 months

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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."

#asks #lovers ₊˚ᰔ #this with megumi is such a dangerous scenario #🤧#wr #cw stepcest #cw objectification #tw stepcest #cw dark content

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sigmahimejoshi · 5 months

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It's so cute when subs think they're human! Dumb little things trying to act human but fail so hard to do so because they get so needy it makes them stupid! That little off switch in your brain when your most senstive area is touched is the difference between being an object and a human! I hope you realize your place soon!

#dumbimbofication #dumbification #wlw and nblw only #wlw concepts #nsft concept #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #lesbian #degrade kink #degrading tw #degrading words #objectification #objectify #requests

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prettybabybaby · 1 year

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¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: noncon, dark!regulus, fem!squib!reader, use of the imperius curse, degradation, objectification

¡ marauders masterlist !

Regulus didn’t really think he’d have to use it.

You were an obedient thing, eager to serve. And under the impression that he and the others were part of the order, you did just about anything he asked.

You were easy to fool, unaware of any wizarding politics after you were casted away following the reveal of your powers. Or lack there of. Your squib status was all over the daily prophet. He remembered scowling at the moving photo of you behind your parents, looking pathetically weak.

Regulus didn’t understand why he was so infatuated with a filthy squib like you. Much less why you hadn’t seemed to catch on. You just seemed so attentive and observant. The wheels in your mind always seemed to be turning as you tried to piece everything together from the little Regulus and the other death eaters spoke.

But you still couldn’t grasp the meaning of Regulus’ wandering hand and suggestive tone, ignoring his advances completely as your mind was occupied with trying to conspicuously draw information from him. You hadn’t managed to deceive him.

The eagerness to help was to make up for your feelings of inadequacy, he knew that, but the glimmering eyes and growing pupils that would look up at him as you nodded your head, thanking him for allowing you to help made his mind spin with thoughts. His fantasies plagued his mind more often than he cared to admit, embarrassed by the subject of his desire and the fact that he was somehow still yearning when he could just have you.

Regulus expected immediate reciprocation of his fervent touch but instead, he was pushed away mere seconds after his lips touched yours, tongue invading your mouth to taste you instantly. His brow raised as he kept a grip on your shoulder, taking in your widened eyes and your wet lips.

The taste of your lips lingered on his tongue as he stared at you, ears filled with cotton as words flew from your mouth. He cared very little about what you had to say but he loved to watch your mouth tumble open as you fumbled your words before stopping to lick your lips, collecting the remnants of his spit.

He leaned in again, a breathy, "relax," fanning your neck as he pecked the delicate skin he had been waiting to mark. You squirmed, wiggling out of his grasp and staring at him in disbelief with an underlying tinge of fear.

Regulus' patience was already running thin. He was just trying to get off before returning his focus to serving the Dark Lord. You were a useless squib who should've been begging for his touch, realizing that was the only way you were useful.

His wand pressed against your throat and the imperius curse was on his tongue as he pinned you to the wall. Your eyes glazed over, hands dropping to your sides and pleads coming to a halt. You were awaiting his command.

"Are you done?" He asked, condescension dripping from his tone.

You nodded dumbly, "yes."

"Are you gonna let me use you now, squib?" You blinked as he leaned in closer, "you gonna spread those legs for me?"

Another nod, "yes."

"You're a dumb little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, cupping your pretty face. "Kiss me."

Your eyes flickered to lips for a second before you tilted your face upwards, mouth puckered cutely as you pressed your lips to his. It was a light peck, over much too quickly. Regulus licked his lips as you leaned away from him.

"You can do better than that," he said, "kiss me like you mean it."

You leaned back in, giving him a desperate open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue met his, caressing the muscle with your own before you pulled away, suckling on it. Regulus groaned, of course you'd be a good little slut. What else could a weak girl like you possibly be good at?

You looked at him expectantly, lashes fluttering as you as you leaned back in. He could feel your thighs press together, hips moving as he began to slowly grind against you.

His hands slid down your body, bunching around the hem of your skirt and pushing it downwards, "get rid of it."

You obeyed, pressing your thighs together as your cunt was revealed. He took a deep breath, grabbing your face once again to connect your lips and somehow his movements were even more desperate than before as his hand reached your heat. You were so much warmer and softer than he imagined. You tightened around his fingers instantly as he moved you towards your bed.

The head of his cock, poked at your pussy as his tongue roamed your useless mouth. You stayed still, almost in a paralyzed state as his hands roamed your skin and his cock humped the lips of your core.

Your body jolted and you gasped, a tremble moving up your body as a high whine left your lips. Regulus pulled away instantly, catching the final seconds of your orgasm. Your lips were still parted, visibly swollen and your eyes were glazed, struggling to stay open as all the air escaped your lungs.

He felt disgusted by himself for feeling the need to see you do it again. He wanted to watch the way your body changed as you felt the climax building until it reached it's peak. He wanted to feel your body tense and your hole clench around his cock as he fucked into you.

Regulus found your opening easily, slipping in even easier with the help of your dripping slick. Your thighs shook and tried to close instinctively. "Stop," he muttered, "keep them nice and wide."

He relished in the way your pussy pulsed around him and tears began to fill your waterline, no doubt from the sensitivity of your orgasm lingering and the intrusion of his cock becoming deeper with every thrust of his hips.

You felt amazing, an obedient little slut forced to obey his every wish. Regulus thought all squibs should be met with this fate. But no other hole would feel as delicious as you and your warmth.

You came again, fingers digging into the sheets as your back arched and you convulsed. You were even prettier the second time, empty eyes dripping crystals. He felt himself getting closer to his own orgasm as his hips pounded into you sloppily.

"Finally useful," he panted as he spilled into you. He could feel his release shooting deep inside you in ropes. "Aren't you so grateful for me?" Regulus' stomach tightened and he let out a deep moan, feeling himself come down from his climax.

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winterprince601 · 9 months

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symbolically, dany (probably) not being able to have kids is very powerful. throughout the first book, her worth as a queen, threat as a conqueror and value as a body is determined by her ability to breed: the prospect of a son overshadows all her achievements and her body is used and abused as the vehicle of her brother's, her husband's and various other men's conquests. that is why it is so radical when instead of her barrenness being depicted as defective, she births the dragons all by herself, all of herself, without any real male intervention. SHE is the true dragon, it's in HER blood, HER power and she flips the terms of reproduction so that she is the one inscribing meaning into lifeless matter, animating clay. any marriage she now enters will be far more on her bodily terms. in fact, there doesn't have to be a husband or a son or even a legacy - she defines daenerys and she defines targaryen.

of course, personally this is still heartbreakingly sad for someone like dany who desperately wants a home and family. even as it potentially grants her more autonomy and forges a very important maternal bond with her dragons, daenerys is still left feeling isolated from and through her body.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #a song of ice and feels #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #dany #:(( rereading got as i've already said and WOW dany had it rough #tw objectification #i'm not sure how to tag this exactly so that no one is uncomfortable #khal drogo #viserys targaryen #those are the main troublesome men #cw infertility #tw infertility #body politics

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ourstaturestouchtheskies · 9 months

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A Woman Painting a Man – Artemisia Gentileschi // Vision – Jacek Malczewski // Barbie (2023) – Directed by Greta Gerwig

#okay so i know this is different from my usual stuff #bc i typically do song lyrics and not quotes #but when i heard this in the theater i was having some Thoughts #like about muses vs. artists and the construction of the female body in western art through a heteronormative male lens #and idk i was just like “damn this really applies to art history”#i promise i have more complete thoughts on this whole subject i just can't articulate them very well lmao #anyway i decided to do some edits based on this quote bc it's just so good #artemisia gentileschi #artemisia gentileschi my beloved #barbie #barbie 2023 #the barbie movie #art #art history #lyrics #lyric art #tw objectification

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mayashesfly · 29 days

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Thinking about Alastor and Vox slowly drifting away and then Valentino slowly entering the picture.

Vox introduces Valentino to Alastor thinking that his films could be good content for him to advertise and broadcast since its Hell which in turn would increase the viewership of his channels.

Alastor personally doesn't like it since he never really understood the appeal himself even if some people likes it a lot. It just rubs him the wrong way. Not only that but he likes the current business partnership he and Vox have.

And now you're telling him he has to share assets and attention with this pompous moth?

Haha, No.

Unfortunately, Vox was not swayed by Alastor's thinly veiled protests. Annoyance nearly written on his face as Valentino merely smiles. Happy that this opportunity presented itself so his influence could grow.

And to be frank, the TV Demon is quite charming in his own right. Even if he tried to remain professional, Valentino hasn't missed the light snow that ended up decorating Vox's cheeks when he saw his work.

"You know, I could show you the quality of my products~ If you want."

"Uhh.... There's no need. I've already seen the quality you can give so it's unnecessary"

"Hm... Well, if you say so~"

"How about me? Not offering your services?" He grimaces.

"Hm... No thanks. I have the feeling you wouldn't enjoy my products~"

None of these fossils would know Asexuality exists or at least its label, but Valentino would still get the vibe.

#may asher rambles #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #technically #radiostatic #and #staticmoth #I wanna know how tf Alastor took in Vox being friends with Valentino #It could be extremely hilarious if you want to #“Am I being turned into a thirdwheel?” Alastor #tw objectification #just in case bc valentino

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shiroi---kumo · 5 months

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.: The Devil's Toll :.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He doesn't understand why his hair is getting stroked so lovingly but he also doesn't know why he's finding it so hard to pull away. There is a small hand brushing through white locks over and over and he doesn't quite know how he ended up leaning his head up on His Excellency’s chair like some kind of lounging cat but here he is doing just that nonetheless.

Words: 2.9 k Pages: 6 TW;; Depression, PTSD, Submission, Mental Illness, Survivor’s Guilt, gaslighting, possession, isolation, abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, self blame, objectification, manipulation, injury, mental breakdown, intimidation, love bombing, dissociation, conditioning, punishment and praise, rewards, murder

His stomach twists in disgust as he realizes the true stakes of the situation and now if he moves wrong that hand in his hair will turn into a variable claw in the matter of a few moments. He hates how he can't remember ever laying down like this and quite frankly he can't remember waking up this morning either.

It's becoming more and more frequent in recent days. He's missing entire chunks of time and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. He's missing chunks of time and he can't remember when was the last time His Excellency killed him. Somehow this seems like more of a bad thing than a good thing for as strange as that sounds. Shouldn't one want to be spared the pain of death? Well yes, and of course he does too but this also means that when the time comes that he inevitably messes up again, when His Excellency makes a move for punishment it will be the most severe one he's received to date.

He's not stupid. He knows how this game works. Praise and Punishment walk hand in hand with this little beast and right now those same hands are in his hair and he can't move. He can't pull away no matter how much he wants to and he can't even flinch or breathe wrong unless he wants those small but deadly fingers ready to tear snow colored locks right out from his head.

It's always such a wretched sensation.

Nothing is worse than the feeling of his hair being pulled. He hates it. He hates the feeling and he hates the way it makes him feel so vulnerable. How the pain of it will bring him to his knees and have him fighting back the tears at the sensation. You would think one who has died as many times as he has would have more pain tolerance for something seemingly so simple but the sensation of even the root of his hair going taunt is enough to send his nervous system into overdrive.

But what he hates the most is how he can feel himself start purring. He doesn’t know why he does it. He tries to tell himself to stop but he can feel those fingers grow softer as they stroke through snow. The louder he purrs the softer they get and he hates himself for finding so much comfort in the sensation. He hates himself for finding peace in this. He should be running away from this beast as quickly as his body would carry him. He should be fleeing at any chance he gets but instead he allows himself to sink into his place on the arm of this chair as that little monster continues to comb through fluffy spikes with a gentleness that could only be described as care.

That can’t be right.

That’s just not possible, and he hates how many times he feels like he’s had this conversation with himself as of late. The beast does not love him. The demon does not care. The little devil felt nothing for him but yet those lips part and purr out affections of their own.

“You’ve been so well behaved as of late, Precious.” The small emperor sounds as his hand continues to work. “You’ve done your tasks so well. I’m proud of you, my Little Cloud. You’ve been such a good pet. Perhaps you deserve some time out of the castle? I think you’ve earned it.”

He only increases the volume on his purring in response as if doing so will show his gratitude for such a notion but his lips are hanging in a frown behind the thin metal covering his face as the boy of pink continues.

“You can go with Herba the next she leaves.” The Tyrant offers as he finally pulls his hand away and out of the Misterican’s hair. “But when she leaves you know the rules. Her word is as good as my word and you are to do whatever she asks of you. You understand, don’t you Precious?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“That’s my good boy. You’ve become so well behaved. I’m so proud of you, Makenshi.”

His purring only grows louder as those hands return to his hair and he doesn’t know how long he stays like that but it’s long enough that he doesn’t remember falling asleep. Did he fall asleep? He doesn’t know. He does know that he woke in his own quarters the next morning and he was met with Herba throwing her arms over his shoulders to bring him into a very tight and very unwanted hug and she leaned to try to push a kiss to his cheek and he could only lean himself the opposite direction so far to avoid contact.

“Makenshi.”

His name was trumpeted in his direction in a small but authoritative voice and it has the Misterican standing up straight giving this damnable woman the space she needed to push those poison painted lips directly to his cheek even if it was covered in metal. Dull jade is looking forward into the main hall with the entirety of his form tingling to both get away from this woman and get off the ground. The place just above the little demon’s head is calling his name because then he is both in eyesight but at the same time away from this gaggle of absolute morons.

If he could never associate with any of them for the rest of his life ever again, he’s sure he could find a way to be happy. If only Rorahm could finally wake up - but - jade moons downcast at the thought because at this rate his sun would never rise and he was going to be stuck here for the rest of said life. Should he make the most of it? Should he adjust?

No. No. Listen to yourself Makenshi. You’re falling for that monster’s tricks!

But are they tricks?

It’s been too many years and he doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t remember the sound of his Mother’s voice and he can hardly remember his Father’s face. He tries not to think about them too much because he doesn’t want to get himself all upset and then in turn upset His Excellency. The Tyrant isn’t exactly one to be any form of comforting if he were to simply explain that he was thinking about home. In fact, he doesn’t want that little monster anywhere near anything to do with Misterica in the first place, so it would probably be for the best to simply forget it all anyway. If he can’t remember then the little beast can manipulate it against him.

He can’t seem to remember most things lately anyway.

He can’t remember going to sleep the night before and he hardly can make sense of the morning. He just wants this woman to get off of him but instead she lets herself sink down to wrap her arm around his and lean herself up against him like they were anything that could be considered close - which was comical in his mind when the closest he would like to be to this

woman would be to watch her burn.

Still he just adjusts to the feeling of her hanging off his arm as he focuses his attention on His Excellency instead because the only thing he ever needed to do was to keep the little gremlin happy and as long as he did that he’d keep his head. Why was the beast smiling at him the way he was? He doesn’t like it. It’s making his skin crawl almost as much as the feeling of the plant witch hanging off his arm is.

“Makenshi, I am assigning you to assist Herba today. I expect you two to cooperate while you’re out in the field. Herba knows what needs to be done, so you simply need to follow her lead, and I shouldn’t have to repeat myself with what we discussed yesterday, do I?”

“No, Your Excellency. I remember.” He sounds, raising his free arm to cross it over his chest to give this pink haired abomination a half bow. What he was saying he remembers, he doesn’t know. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even even the day before. Yesterday? He couldn’t tell you. Herba’s face was where his memory picks up and he hates that too because there is something about thinking about yesterday that is turning his stomach but he couldn’t tell you why.

So now they’re returning to that damnable airship and he hates being on it. It’s nauseating and the amount of pollen in the air is enough to make him sick. His stomach is twisting in knots As he takes a seat. He doesn’t feel well but there is the sound of jingling chimes in the air as he looks over to the open deck just to the right of him. Chimes blowing in the wind and it's enough to tell him to just focus on the sound of something pleasant for once as he lays his head down and tells himself to just go back to sleep. She’ll wake him when they get there. She always does.

And he’s sure it’s for something nasty. It always is.

He won’t do it this time though. He’ll never kill again and he doesn’t care how badly His Excellency beats him to death for disobeying orders. He will not stain the Holy Blade with yet more blood of the innocent… He just needs to not think about it and sleep. He’ll fight with her when he wakes up. His Excellency might be able to get the better of him but Herba won’t. He will never let that woman -

“ ‘kenshi-darling? ‘Kenshi-darling, wake up you silly willy. If you told me you were tired, I would have gotten you a blanket, lovely.” She smiles at him with a face that is possibly dripping with more venom than it ever has before. Her smiles are always fake and they turn his stomach, but she is taking him by the hand and he’s letting her. He doesn’t feel like fighting with her.

It’s a quiet town they’ve found themselves in this time. It’s closer to the outer reaches of Wonderland but not quite all the way out. A town that has larger than normal buildings built up and a large building he wonders if it is a church of some kind on the other side of town. She has him by the hand as they walk, and the people of this village don’t seem to be paying them any mind. Children are laughing, the smell of fresh bread is in the air and the city itself seems at peace.

Herba is leaning herself in to cling to his arm as if they were some sort of couple and it is taking everything in him not to shake her off. She just seems to be happy to take a stroll with him and he doesn’t understand what the catch is. Why did His Excellency let him out of the castle if there was nothing wicked for him to do? Why let him just come take in the sights of Wonderland if they didn’t mean for him to cause some kind of havoc?

She’s strolling through the local bazaar with him as his nose catches the smell of sugar and it’s been so long since he has got to eat anything truly sweet. He sniffs once and then again and she’s making an Oooh? Sort of sound that he doesn’t like as she takes him by the hand to lead him towards the source of the scent.

“You like sweets, don’t you, ‘kenshi? I’ll buy you something. I’ll buy you something nice, for how good you’ve been lately. Tell me what you want. Anything and you can have it. We all deserve a little treat every now and then.”

Is she serious? She can’t be.

The Church bell is ringing in the background as she pulls him along. A grin slipping on her lips as she pulls him into the middle of the marketplace, only to look back at the Misterican with bright eyes and a poison purple smile.

“Anything you want, ‘kenshi-darling. Name it, and it’s yours.” She pauses to look towards the church and watches as the streets seem to fill as if the building is emptying further with each chime. “Must be noon.” She sounds returning her gaze to her companion only to watch as a pale hand reaches back towards the hilt of his blade to rock it free with a single click.

“ ‘kenshi-darling?” She sounds but still just continues to watch the man move. The swordsman takes his blade up into his grip and it is held out towards her at length as if extending the tip in her direction. Mist rolls out from behind bared teeth in plumbs when the devil growls. He’s pushing off a foot to take off in a dead lunge in her direction but instead of striking at the object of his absolute hatred, the man of white races past her directly towards that of an older man down the way of the lane of the marketplace and cleaves the poor soul clean in two.

More Mist rolls out from parted pale as his blade is swung to send a flood of white colored energy racing through the stalls like a spark on a wick until it reaches its destination and half the bazaar goes up in a massive explosion. Screams fill the sky as citizens start to scurry and scatter.

“The White Devil!!” They cry. “The White Devil has come for us all!”

Red stains window panes and runs along the cracks of the cobblestone as the carnage continues. The man of snow does not cease his hellsent symphony even as men and women alike fall to their knees to beg for their lives. Their lights are snuffed out regardless. Children struck down with little concern and explosion after explosion brings building of stone tumbling to the ground.

Before long the symphony of sayonara falls silent and the Maestro of the Massacre stands center stage, crimson dripping from the Holy Blade stained with sin once more.

Only one other life remains and a dangerous gaze of dimmed jade is turning to glare daggers at the plant like woman. He’s raising his blade and taking stance to charge her when she merely raises her hand in his direction and snaps her fingers together.

Jade eyes go wide before they start blinking rapidly and soon their owner is looking all around him with horror etching itself into his features. Anger overcomes him as he refocuses on Gaudium’s Lord of Plants and Potions only to scream.

“What did you do?! Answer me! You didn’t have to kill them!”

But he only gets a small laugh in response as she floats over to him to rest just over his shoulders.

“What did I do? I didn’t do anything. You did this, ‘kenshi-baby. This was all your work. You killed them all gracefully and you didn’t leave a single one alive. Truly expert skill.”

“You’re lying!” He hisses as his mind starts to reel at the possibility. Her lungs didn’t sound like she was lying.

“Am I though?” She asks coyly. “Look at your sword.”

And her hand is pointing a finger down causing jade eyes to drop along with it even if he’s scared to do what she’s asking. The Maken is in his hand and it is covered in blood. He’s covered in blood.

His hand is trembling as the Maken is released and a deep guttural scream escapes him from down in his belly as the Holy Blade clatters to the ground. His hands are flying up to slip into white locks in between his horns only for the scream to get louder.

What was going ON?!!!! This wasn’t right!!! He doesn’t remember ANYTHING!!!!

His entire body is shaking as his knees hit the ground. All he can do is scream. He killed these people. He slaughtered an entire town and he doesn’t even know how or why. He can’t remember their faces. He never knew their names. He slaughtered these people and -

Herba is wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she hovers there next to him for the moment, nuzzling her face in close to his own.

“ You did so good today, ‘kenshi-darling. Let’s go home and tell, His Excellency, about what a good job you did. I’m sure he’ll reward you. Oh and !” She’s letting her feet hit the ground to shuffle over to the now destroyed stand of the vendor from earlier that had been selling all sorts of sweet treats and she picks up what appears to be some sort of hard candy on a stick and extends it out to him. “I said I’d get you anything. A treat for doing such a good job.”

But he couldn’t eat anything now. Now it would only taste bitter.

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profoundidiot · 2 months

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disclaimer: objectification and making someone into furniture doesn’t really make my brain engage all too much.

However

A little sex/bdsm party?

someone wants to be tied up? The subbiest member of the group? But everyone is playing monopoly or something and can’t focus on them? Now, hear me out here.

charcuterie board.

Tie them down, bind them so they’re immobile and can’t move and even if they squirm it’s futilely. use them as a charcuterie board. Cover their tummy in meats and cheeses and jams and fruits.

tease them with light touches and soft rubs all evening. Brush your hands up and down their helpless body. Let them watch as they’re used as a table you can tease.

maybe they’re getting comfy, maybe that’s what you want? Them to rest and sleep? Or maybe they need to stay awake, stay focused and on edge. So you can tie a vibrator to them. Of course they do need to stay still enough, with the help of their bondage, to not make a mess. But they’re very good and obedient.

eventually the game is over, the snacks are done, and the real party can begin. And they’ve been getting more and more desperate this whole time. Now it’s just a matter of who lets them find release first.

#trans nsft #wlw nsft #t4t nsft #objectification kink #objectification tw #hornyposting #Ven’s Tales

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sigmahimejoshi · 5 months

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I like it when girls objectify me! When they stare at my tits, grope my ass, and catcall me. Girls are always the best perverts!

#wlw and nblw only #wlw concepts #nsft concept #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #lesbian #objectify #dehumanizing itatrain worship #objectification #dehumanisation tw

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punkeropercyjackson · 3 days

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Next person to call Dick Grayson 'babygirl' in a sexual way and have him react negatively to it as a gag is getting their head smashed in by yours truly,get a JOB and your white ass AWAY from him!!!!!!!!!!!!

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3-2-whump · 25 days

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The Party

TW/CW: public humiliation, pet whump (I think?), objectification, whumpee on display, whumpee being talked about as if not even there, light microagression towards whumpee (?) This is fun to tag.

By now, Khaled should’ve been used to hearing the faint sound of metallic clinking as he walked. His owner used to bind his feet in cuffs for nearly a year straight when he had first come into his home, leaving just enough chain in between to walk comfortably and not an inch more. That was nearly six years ago, yet even hearing the faint shk shk shk of shimmering chains whenever he moved mentally transported him back to boyhood, when he was scared, shy, and didn’t know what was going on or what was expected of him. Much like tonight.

“Stand up straight, pick up your feet, and don’t look so glum,” Thomas chided.

Easy for you to say, Khaled thought as he eyed his fully dressed owner in envy. The mafia boss was dressed in a three-piece suit as usual, though he had changed into one of the more expensive ones for tonight’s function, a charity ball of some sort. The garnets set into his golden cufflinks glowed like freshly shed blood under the foyer’s lights as he gestured at him.

Khaled wore gold and garnets of his own, except they were…everywhere. They were in his earrings, in his nose ring, studded like pomegranate seeds in his necklace, acting as connection points in the harness-like body chain draped over his bare chest and torso –he was covered in them and still felt naked. A sheer and silky fabric tied unskillfully around his waist matched the color of the sanguine jewels and provided the only shred of modesty in this obscene outfit. Khaled prayed it would not fall off, but he did not favor his chances.

At least I get a break from that chastity cage, he consoled himself.

He straightened his posture and adopted a more neutral expression. His master smiled. “Good boy,” he said, and yet the usual praise did not ease the nervous churning in his gut. The golden bracelets on his wrists, matching the bands on his ankles, clinked softly as the man reached out to squeeze his hands in reassurance. “You look beautiful,” was all he said to him before he dropped his hand and parted the large doors to the ballroom.

Khaled’s skin seared hot under the chandelier lights as he felt the gaze of every patrons’ eyes on him. Keeping his eyes focused on some neutral midpoint ahead of him –like that potted plant, yeah, is that even real? –he followed his master into the fray, swallowing nervously as he heard the heavy doors close behind him. It felt like everyone was staring at him, and from the glances he dared to take from his periphery, he understood why. Every other patron was dressed in formal attire. Even the few escorts he saw -and he could recognize a fellow sex worker when he saw one- were dressed more modestly than him. At least their chests were covered! His face burned with embarrassment, a blush that probably rivaled the cerise garnets, all the way down to his collarbones.

The boss stopped, finally, and so did he as they settled into the corner of the ballroom. They stood next to the bar and very close to the table laid out with several dozen little canapes. Khaled’s stomach loudly rumbled and his mouth pooled with saliva just looking at them. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was nearly eight hours ago. He glanced at his master, who was currently receiving a glass of whiskey from the bartender, and he carefully stretched a hand out to reach for the tartlet-thing closest to him.

“No.” His bracelets jingled as his hand was swatted away like he was a misbehaving pet. His master stared down at him as he threw back the shot of whiskey. Khaled drew his hand back to his side. “I’ll feed you when we get home, if you’ve been good, that is.” He sighed, but reluctantly nodded. He cast his gaze down to his sandaled feet as he tried not to think about the ever-present food and the persistent gnawing of his stomach.

A pair of expensive black leather shoes stepped into the top of his vision. “Thomas, so glad you could make it,” the unseen stranger greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” his owner replied, a polite smile in the tone of his voice.

“So, who’s this?” The stranger’s attentions were on him.

“This,” he said boastfully, “is my darling, my dearest, my worst-kept secret!” Khaled wanted to shrink away from the attention, but has master’s hand on his waist reminded him not to. “Come on, Khaled!” He summoned his courage to look up. An older man with a pot belly and a short, dour-faced wife on his arm was appraising him curiously, as if he was an exotic item and not a person. Smile, damn it, an impatient voice rang in his head. He flashed them a shy smile as he looked at them through his kohl-rimmed lashes.

“Your intern?”

“My ‘intern’,” his master clarified.

“He’s a pretty one, how long have you had him?”

“Oh, about six years now, come this spring.”

“Wow! Well, you’ve obviously been taking great care of him!” It was so obvious that this stranger wanted to do more than just look at him, with the way his fat fingers practically vibrated in excitement.

“Six years?!” a second guest –a tall and thin woman– gasped. Khaled realized by now they had attracted a small crowd of partygoers to the bar, all with the intent to sneak a peek at Don Costa’s boy toy. He ducked his head in shame.

“Mine didn’t even last six months!” the woman whined, trying to garner sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I just got lucky, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Tell us, how is he in bed?” another guest asked.

“Good, though there’s not much skill in lying back and taking it!” A chorus of laughter accompanied his master’s. He found a scuff on the hardwood floor and pretended that was the only thing that existed.

“Does he speak?” yet another faceless guest asked. The whole semicircle of gawkers fell silent. Khaled dared to look up. All eyes were on him.

“Well, go on, boy, say something,” his master directed.

Khaled wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

“W-what should I say?” he asked nervously.

An irreverent number of oohs and aahs erupted from the small entourage.

“Not even the faintest hint of an accent!” the first man exclaimed. “Now tell me, Tom, did you train him to speak that well?”

“No,” his owner admitted, “I mean, I hired a tutor to teach him English, but he trained the accent out of himself on his own.”

“Why, though?”

The stretch of awkward silence indicated they were waiting yet again for Khaled to speak, that they wanted him to answer. Khaled shifted his eyes to the floor again, swallowing past the discomfort of being scrutinized this closely. “Because… I didn’t want to stand out.”

“You were amazing!” Thomas complimented Khaled as he watched him shovel take-out falafel pita into his mouth like it was his first meal in days.

“So, this was just a one-time thing, right?” his beloved slave asked, cheeks distended with half-chewed falafel.

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Thomas chastised him, “I trained you better than that.”

Khaled swallowed the food and apologized under his breath. “And to answer your question, who knows? They couldn’t keep their eyes off you,” he smirked pridefully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, either. He glanced from the road over to his passenger in the car. Khaled had looked every bit as alluring as he had imagined when he was covered in gold and jewels and blood red silk. He would never admit he was hard for nearly the entire time they were at the party, but the evidence probably spoke for itself through the bulge in his slacks. “It’s no wonder though. Red is a good color on you.” And I want to see what you look like in blue next, he mentally added. “I just might drag you out to other parties in the future if we get attention like that.”

Khaled set his stub of a pita down on his lap. Thomas couldn’t help but grimace; what if it left a stain? “Do I have to dress like this again?” the young man asked, though his defeated tone told him he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t be so sad about it, you were gorgeous!” I thought about nothing but how to get you alone for the entire time we were there!

“I was nearly naked, Master. In public. In front of strangers. Does that not bother you?”

“So? I like to show off what’s mine,” he shrugged. “Look, when you’re free, you can choose to wear whatever you want, but until then, you’ll put on whatever I give you, okay?” Khaled slumped further into the car seat. Maybe it was a bit cruel to tease him with the freedom he’d never willingly give him. Thomas sighed, feeling a little guilty. He reached out a hand to pat a silk-covered thigh. “It won’t be very often, I promise,” he reassured him.

“Yes, Master,” his pet murmured.Thomas smiled. At the red light, he leaned over to kiss the side of Khaled’s sauce-stained lips.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

#whump writing #pet whumpee #tw objectification #put on display #tw humiliation #tw public humiliation #tw slight microagression #if you ask very nicely I will draw this outfit I described and share it #or i might just do it anyway if nobody asks

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ourstaturestouchtheskies · 8 months

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Artist Painting a Portrait of a Musician – Marguerite Gérard // A Casting from Life – Édouard Joseph Dantan // Barbie (2023) – Directed by Greta Gerwig

#marguerite gerard #barbie movie #barbie #barbie 2023 #the barbie movie #barbie the movie #barbie movie 2023 #art #art history #tw objectification

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princelylove · 6 months

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Hi, accidentally stumble in your blog~ I love yandere jojo contents too so I hope to see your content about it :D

I don't know what to request yet but maybe we can talk about type of yandere. What is your favorite type of yandere? Mine is delusion or simp yandere (what characters in jojo you think they will be in this category btw)

Delusional types are adorable to me. There’s just something so charming about someone who’s so bent on being together that their brain skips the entire courting process and goes right into “We’re dating. No actually we’re married and have been married since forever and even our past lives were married. You belong to me what do you mean I have to stop calling for fifteen days.” I think my favored type is protective, but delusionals are too cute to pass on. As for those I think are delusional or simps, off the top of my head…

I’d also argue that Mista’s the type to simp, he’s pretty sure he’ll die if you carry your own shopping bags, but he doesn’t strike me as delusional. Love’s gotta be real to him, you know? He’s the kind of guy that can take a maybe, hell, even a hard no! He knows how to back off, but he’s just gonna keep watch from over here if that’s cool with you. I mean, come on, what kinda “friend” would he be if he let you open your own doors or pay for your own meal? He’s got a job, it’s totally on him! Don’t even think about trying to step over that puddle yourself, he’s already got you up by your legs to carry you across. He’s pretty strong, isn’t he? Oh, he’d die a happy man if you praised him for something like that. He’s like a dog whose tail just won’t stop wagging. You’re his everything, why wouldn’t he try to do things for you all the time? That isn’t weird, don’t shove him into the same category as creepy guys who never give up! It’s like typical hollywood stuff, you know? Romanticism or whatever!

You know who’s fully delusional, though? I say this with lots of love, but Diego. He just cannot fathom the idea of someone rejecting him, I mean, what’s wrong with him? He’s the prince of the british horseracing world, how DARE you reject him??? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him, don’t play hard to get with him of all people! You should be begging for his attention, not the other way around, but here we are. Diego fully believes that you were made for him, you just don’t understand the gravity (I do think I’m funny for this wordplay) of the situation yet. No matter what happens, you’re always going to be his. As long as he’s got it in his head that you’re more of an object than a real person who has thoughts and feelings like he does, he’s not really going to care about your ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Look, pigeons are just meant to be led, and he’s already somewhat fond of you, so just let him have what he wants. I’m firmly of the belief that if you ever flat out rejected him, he’d just think you were unwell and needed him even more. Be good for him, he doesn’t have the time to play this silly little game of cat and mouse with you right now.

Joseph is another “You can’t play hard to get forever!” type to me, honestly. He’s persistent like a bloodhound, and is going to get in the way of whatever lover or relationship you’ve got going on right now no matter what. He called dibs on you, so, it’s totally fair. He’ll show up to your apartment or house and completely ignore his training if it means getting just a glimpse of you. So what if he’s got a ring in his throat, he wants to put a ring on your finger! Joseph goes the extra mile for you- literally. If you were to move out of town, he’d walk all the way to your new place if he had to. Joseph won’t be deterred so easily. You just wanted him to get some exercise, right, babe? That’s so thoughtful of you! It makes his day when you look his way, especially if you actually catch him showing off with his training. If you were to actually talk to him, or god forbid compliment him, he’d be reeling for a week. He trails behind you on your errands, taking notes mentally of where you go and what you get. One day he’ll know it by heart, and then you won’t even have to go on errands anymore! Unless you want to go with him, that is. Then he’s totally down for a little couple’s day out. Joseph will buy you whatever you want as long as he gets his fix in. Let him put his head on your lap and just stare, and he’ll be thrilled. I don’t necessarily believe that Joseph would kidnap you if you broke his fantasy too many times, but you’re definitely going to start losing a lot of personal time. It doesn’t matter how he got into your apartment, he made dinner. Haha, ok, you caught him. He ordered dinner.

I think it’s fairly obvious to say that Yukako is delusional. She has a warped sense of reality. Her crimes really don’t matter to her because she’s making up for it. Look, look, she cooked for you. Stop trying to go for the door or the window. Yukako loves you, so you’re going to be perfect for her, and you’re going to be perfect together. She’s firm about never leaving your side even though she’s already got you all to herself. She sees nothing wrong with skipping dating and going right to locking you up if she thinks you need her for something. You’re failing at that cooking class that school made you take despite your pleas not to? She can do that. You’re awful with directions? She knows every little corner of town. You actually don’t need her and are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? Don’t talk like that. You need her. There’s absolutely no reason to deny her, so let’s do this the cutesy way she wants it.

#yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere guido mista #yandere joseph joestar #yandere diego brando #yandere yukako yamagishi #yandere #tw objectification #request granted

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