#thread; isaiah

“Normally, I’ll gladly claim this title but I’m sure someone’s willing to fight me for it.”

“No comment.”

There were two reasons Isaiah found himself here, in some seedy bathroom. The first, there was a glory hole, which gave him the chance of getting dick (if someone mortal, human and normal came around) without the danger of actually getting fucked to death — something a little too common in his line of work. It was a way to explore his sexuality now that something had been awakened deep within him, especially after his meeting with Deimos. The second, because he heard there had been a brutal death here many years back, in this very stall, and the ghost here was vengeful and enticed his victims with pheromones and pure sexual energy before he murdered him; so much for the first reason then, and yet the hunter was hopeful, that he didn’t have to put his life on the line, just to get a good dick. (Sure, he could achieve that with more conventional methods, but he still had work to do.) It was no fault of this ghost’s own, unlike some of the demons and ghosts he’d encountered, it was just being in the wrong place, at the wrong time that let to the spirit’s predicament — much like his own predicament: wrong place, wrong time. So here, Isaiah was, hoping to cleanse the vengefulness of the spirit and give him the rest he deserved.

“Uhh… You do know I deal with the supernatural right. That means the sizes are supernatural too.” Oh he’s avoiding the question, use your damn imagination, “Some demon king. I’m a big guy, and let’s just say my whole damn fucking arm can’t compare. ‘y insides got rearranged dude.”