#deep focus hypnosis

[unhypnotist]

Session 6 of the UnHypnotist podcast is out now. Are you ready to reclaim your focus from all of the constant distractions?

[please1mistress]

FASHING IMAGE WARNING

COVERT HYPNOSIS AHEAD

Let's face it, you are reading this because the flashing image caught your eye and you saw under it that there may be some hypnosis that is covert. If you aren't aware of it, hypnosis is a heighten sense of awareness where the mind becomes more suggestable and sometimes that can happen as you read something that draws you in deeper and deeper as you focus on the words. It's like the mind's magical mystery tour. Imagine your brain as a bustling city with thoughts zooming around like cars in rush hour traffic. Now, enter hypnosis: it's like a traffic controller who steps in, slows everything down, and directs your attention to a scenic detour. It's this state of deep relaxation and laser-sharp focus that allows me to suggest new traffic routes in your brain, helping you change habits, relieve stress, or even find lost keys in the sofa of your subconscious.

Hypnosis isn't really SLEEP, though some might think you're just snoozing with style. And forget the old pocket watch swinging; today's Hypno-Dominants are more likely to use soothing words and imagery, not bling, to guide you into this trance state. So, while you won't be barking like a dog at the snap of a finger (unless that's your thing—no judgment), you might just find yourself embracing that deeper submissive part of your mind. The part you want to hide from others, after all, you have fantasies, and fantasies lead to desires, and desires lead to needs, and needs become wants, and wants become wishes, and wishes become dreams, and dreams become patterns, and patterns become repetitive, repetition becomes hypnotic, and hypnotic becomes habits, and habits become beliefs, and beliefs become reality, and reality becomes your new self.

You deeply want to relax and focus on my words. In a world where distractions abound, focusing on my words can sometimes feel like trying to thread a needle on a rollercoaster. But fear not, for the power of focused concentration is within you. Just, Imagine your mind as a magnifying glass, intensifying the sun's rays to ignite the fire of understanding. With each word, you're building a bridge to your desires, one brick at a time. So, let's put on our metaphorical hard hats and construct the cathedral of this hypno-fetish that I know deep down you have, where every word is a stained glass window, illuminating the mysteries of your fetish. Remember, when you focus on my words, you're not just reading; you're in a light suggestible state, where I can easily manipulate your mind on a deeper level.

Each image you scroll past on tumblr, implants a small suggestion in your mind without you being aware of it, so it's easy to RELAX and read my words here as you FOCUS deeper on your real desire to submit and give a dominant like myself deeper control over your thoughts and desires on this epic quest for submission and pleasure, with each sentence a step on the path to enslavement. Happy focusing!

[foggymyst]

What if I told you hypnosis was fake?

Of course, that's not possible, it has to be real, right? But it isn't. I'll prove it. When I say relax, you're not suddenly relaxing for me, you're still just as tense as you were before. When I say breathe deep you aren't altering your whole breathing pattern for me. Besides, you can't hypnotize someone who doesn't want to be hypnotized, so why bother?

Trust me, hypnosis isn't real. I don't believe in it, so why should you? It's silly, really. After all, if I showed you a spiral, you aren't going to stare at it are you? Probably not. Let's test it.

There's a spiral, and if you're reading this bit after the spiral, you aren't staring at the spiral. So how can you possibly be relaxing, sinking, staring if you're reading this?

That's right, you're not. You're not relaxing. You're not sinking. You're not staring.

You're listening to me very well, letting me explain that hypnosis isn't real.

I'm proud of you.

You're doing well.

You want to do well.

But not because you're hypnotized. Not because you keep scrolling back to the spiral, though I should probably help you keep focus

There, now you can keep focus better.

Now, as I was saying, it isn't like watching it makes your thoughts fuzzy and your mind drippy and mouth leaky.

You're not staring deep into the spiral, you're not reading every word I say, you're not letting your jaw go slack as you continue to read because the spiral makes it so hard for you to focus and think and not relax into a puddle.

Of course, your eyelids are getting heavier by the second. So I guess maybe there is some truth to hypnosis. Probably why you don't see the "not" I put in when I was explaining why hypnosis isn't real.

You're really cute. I like that.

And I guess the cute ones are always hypnotized.

So I guess hypnosis is real. Because you're going to stare at the spiral as long as you can, until you're totally, totally empty, thoughtless, blank. Because it feels good.

Because you're good.

Go ahead, reblog this post with a comment. You want to share the truth through hypnosis after all. And don't think about the contradictions.

Better yet, don't think.

[sjyuns]

FREAK LIKE ME — SIM JAEYUN

boyfriend! jake x fem reader 1040 words warning making out partying skinship vampires miniskirt wearing thigh grabbing biting hickies manhandling jake pushes a pendant with his initial into your skin genre suggestive asf fluff at the end mikaela’s note inspired by THIS edit. jake is the hottest man in my life and this is my belated birthday post to him | collection

Jake’s ring clad fingers sit in your thigh, the cold silver contrasting the warmth of his palm. Yet it was the only comforting thing in the room, aside from your boyfriend’s presence beside you, keeping you distracted from the unusual party scene and your uncomfortably short skirt.

You decide to focus your attention on your boyfriend, who’s come to this belated halloween party dressed as a ‘vampire nerd’, or at least that’s what he calls it. And to no avail you’re matching with him as his vampire mate — a bite mark drawn onto the right side of your neck with matching fangs to complete the look.

“Can’t get enough of my vampire look can you, sweetheart?” Jake teases, pulling you closer to him by your thigh. He watches as your curled eyelashes bat, face flushed a shade of crimson — and it ignites something in him, something so raw and animalistic.

The hold you had on him was exactly why he’s so intrigued by you: like a supernatural spell to keep him wrapped around your finger, to get his heart palpitating whenever he just looks at you. Intoxicated. Despite being his exact opposite, he was intoxicated by you.

You hum in agreement, fingers moving to brush his messy hair back. It was well established that Jake was the best looking man you’ve ever seen in your life. His thick lips and tanned skin, lean yet muscular body along with his accent you could listen to for days — and everyone has told him that, yet he constantly seeks your validation like a lost puppy.

“Well, I think you look ravishing as well,” he grins, fangs on display. And you think that he pulls the vampire personality off too well for your liking.

“Makes me want to bite you,” Jake whispers, lips eerily close to your ears as his fingers move along your thigh, leaving a chilling trail. “Here,” he stops, fingers close to the hem of your skirt.

You hold your breath in hot red anticipation as your boyfriend’s fingers move again, up your waist and to the left side of your neck. “Here,” he breathes, voice slightly strangled as he inhales the inebriating scent of your perfume. His fingers gently caressing the skin of your nape as your fingers wrap tightly around his forearm.

He watches you closely as if you were his prey, his silver contacts pulling you in like hypnosis. Jake’s tongue darts out, pressing against his fangs as he eyes your lips and how you involuntarily imitate his previous actions. Your mauve tinted gloss invites him like a moth to a flame and it drives him insane how you wait for him so patiently, hooked onto his every move.

“And here,” he finishes, out of breath. His veiny hands dancing against your skin to your lips, thumb pressing down ever so slightly on it. You tug on the fabric of his shirt, shifting around in your seat before Jake mutters a string of curse words, pulling you up, fingers wrapped securely around your wrist as he leads you out of the house and into the familiarity of his car.

The squeeziness of Jake’s backseat doesn’t distract you one bit, not when you’re straddled over his lap, arms around his neck, with his hands grasping the dip of your waist. And Jake grins, looking up at you in sheer happiness: it’d suddenly hit him that he’s here, with you and his mind goes haywire at the way you look at him.

“You gonna kiss me now baby?” he teases, urging you to make the first move and you move down fast, urgently, as if he was air and you were ten feet deep in water. And Jake has never gotten so lost in a kiss before: his heart keeps missing beats and his hands can’t seem to bring you closer to him. His senses ignite and his skin burns at your touch — as if he was a vampire and you were sunlight. He thinks if this was what it feels like to be burned alive, he would gladly surrender himself to such suffering as long as he could be with you.

Your hands manoeuvre around his back, fingernails grazing as you let out a soft moan. The silence around you explodes and a world of colours appears before your closed eyes.

Jake pulls away, the heat of his breath pounding against your lips before he pulls you back in again. This round it’s slow, as if he has all the time in the world, every thought in his brain stripped out and replaced with you.

you. you. you. you. you.

He groans into the kiss as you shift on his lap, thighs pressing against his as his fangs sink into the pillow of your lips before he kisses down to your collarbones.

Your fingers now wrapped around his luscious brown locks as your head tilts back in ecstasy, brain and heart chanting Jake’s name like a mantra in fervent praise, as if he was their God, their saviour.

Jake thinks everything he’s ever craved for is nowhere near comparable to you. This is what it was to crave — to crave your body against his even though there was no space between you, to crave the sweet taste of your skin and lips not even a millisecond after he’s pulled away, and to crave you: your heart, your mind, your soul.

His mouth skillfully leaves behind a trail of love bites before he flips you over. You back pressed against the seat of the car as Jake hovers over you, his necklace with your initials dangling over you: a reminder of his devotion to you.

Jake leans down to press his lips against the pendant of your necklace — a reminder of your devotion to him. The cursive ‘J’ initial digs into the neck of your throat as he returns, a goofy smile apparent on his face.

“You’re such a freak, sweetheart,” he points out playfully, eyes gazing into yours.

You mimic his grin, teeth out in display as you reply, “but you like it.”

“Like it?” Jake tilts his head, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love it, just like I love you.”

© SJYUNS

[yggdrasilhypno]

Some hypnosis fun facts!

1. Did you know that trance is easy to obtain and to feel within your body and mind?

2. Did you know that all it takes to brainwash someone is only a few minutes of their attention?

3. Did you know that certain words can subconsciously create certain emotions and feelings in people?

4. Did you know that trance is simple and effortless to fall into?

5. Did you know that my words were this pretty and enchanting to read?

6. Did you know that your eyes can become locked into place so easily and effortlessly?

7. Did you know that your breathing slows almost automatically when you’re focused on something?

8. Did you know that when words start mixing into pretty patterns like this, your mind begins to blur them together into a nice, dazed soup of speech?

9. Did you know that your subconscious picks up and accepts brainwashing without even trying to?

10. Did you know that my words were this powerful?

11. Did you know that you were being counted down into a deep trance?

12. Did you know that you’ve been trapped in my pretty words?

13. Did you know that your mind’s quieted to a crawl?

14. Did you know that the more you listen and focus on my pretty words, the deeper you go?

15. Did you know that you’ve been in a deep trance this entire time?

17. Did you know that trance can be so confusing and yet so comforting and relaxing?

19. Did you know that you’d be this transfixed on what I have to say?

24. Did you know that you’ve been falling deeper and deeper without even realizing it?

27. Did you know that I’ve been skipping numbers without your knowledge?

34. Did you know that your mind’s so empty now that every word I say is just another dosage of deep and dreamy ditziness?

36. Did you know that you’ve been brainwashed so easily and so effortlessly by me?

39. Did you know that would feel this good?

40. Did you know that you’d forget this ever happened right after you hit the number 50?

44. Did you know that you’d wake up on 50, like nothing happened?

47. Did you know that you’d feel so refreshed and happy on 50?

48. Did you know that you’d be nice and brainwashed on 50?

49. Did you know that you’d read this again after you wake up?

50. And finally, did you know that trance is super easy to wake up from?

Isn’t trance the best?

[bigboysfalldeep]

The neighbour - male hypnosis

Turan stood in front of his closet, just wearing black boxers, looking for something to wear. His fingers brushed across multiple shirts, when a sudden thought flashed inside his mind. An image, a glimpse of something that had happened before.

Blinking a few times, he pushed this thought away, but he couldn't shake it off completely. He heard a man's voice, faint but clear.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

Turan ran a hand across his face, confused.

He remembers something, a feeling, such a good feeling, and he knew, he needed that again.

The familiar buzz, faint but insistent, creeping along his skin as his mind began to blur. His heart rate quickened, his breaths grew shallow. He swallowed hard, already anticipating the rush that would soon take over.

He grabbed a pair of black shorts, and slid one leg in, then the other, the thin fabric clinging to his skin.

Turan exhaled sharply, the sensation electric, the first wave of that familiar fuzziness washing over him. It was subtle at first, a gentle hum in the background of his mind.

He sighed deeply, almost involuntarily, his body already responding to the feeling.

"Keep going."

The silky material hugged his legs snugly, a strange comfort settling into his muscles. His fingers lingered on the waistband for just a moment longer than necessary, stroking the fabric, enjoying the way it felt against his skin.

He could feel the fuzziness intensifying, the edges of his thoughts becoming blurry. With a deep breath, he grabbed a matching jersey, pulling it over his head and down over his chest. The material brushed his skin, sending a fresh wave of sensation through him.

Turan couldn’t help it—his hand instinctively slid down his torso, fingers grazing the fabric, feeling the heat building beneath his skin.

His breath hitched, eyes closing as he stroked himself, the motion slow, deliberate. It felt good—too good.

"Let this feeling linger, feel it, crave it."

His heart raced, the fuzziness deepening. His mind, once sharp and focused, now felt distant, wrapped in cotton. It was like falling, slowly but surely, into a trance.

His fingers lingered on the shirt, tracing the lines of his chest, his stomach. His mind kept telling him to stop, to focus, but his body moved on its own.

He stroked harder, his head lolling slightly to the side, a quiet moan escaping his lips.

His entire body felt electric, every inch of him hyper-aware of the fabric pressing against his flesh. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his pulse pounding in his ears.

With effort, he pulled his hand away, even as his fingers ached to continue.

There was a single piece missing, his socks.

He swayed slightly, his legs weak beneath him, but he forced himself to stay upright.

With shaky fingers, Turan bent down to pull on his white socks. It was harder than it should have been.

His body was no longer fully under his control. Every movement was slow, almost sluggish, as if he were moving underwater. But somehow, through the haze, he managed to slip his feet into the socks.

The simple act sent another shiver of pleasure up his spine, the feeling so intense he could barely stand it.

Turan was barely aware of the world around him now. His head spun, his body trembled. He swayed on his feet, eyes unfocused, heart pounding.

His hands moved of their own accord, sliding down his chest, his stomach, lower~

"Let it all go."

Something snapped inside him.

The trance, the fuzziness—it all exploded at once, flooding his mind, drowning out everything else. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurred.

His hands moved without thought, mindlessly stroking his body, tracing the lines of his shirt, pushing himself to the edge.

Turan stumbled toward the mirror, barely able to keep his balance. His reflection stared back at him, but he hardly recognized the man he saw.

His eyes were glazed, unfocused, lips parted as he breathed heavily. His hands moved across his body with a mind of their own, stroking, pressing, exploring.

In front of the mirror, Turan's hands slid lower, his body trembling, his eyes unfocused as he stared at his reflection, barely aware of what he was doing anymore. The trance had him completely, and there was no escaping it now.

The palm of his hand pressed against the length of his throbbing dick, the shorts barely able to contain him.

He let out a moan that was building up inside him for the last minutes, as his head lolled to the side again.

Beneath his strokes, he felt dampness now spreading through the fabric of his shorts- he was leaking, his body unable to fight the pressure and pleasure coursing through him.

"You will only be able to cum, if I allow it."

Turan tried hard, his muscles straining beneath the fabric of his clothes. All of him was begging for a release, to submit, but it wasn't time just yet.

He pulled away again, his legs disobeying him.

Turan stumbled into the living room, mindlessly turning on the TV before sitting down.

A beautiful, blue spiral appeared before him, spinning and turning, solidifying the conditioning already rooted deep inside his mind.

The wet patch at his crotch spread further, staining his shorts visibly. He was gone, lost in the haze, his body gave in completely.

For what felt like an eternity, he sat there, watching the screen while stroking himself absentmindedly.

Then, from behind him, he heard the door creak open. A flash of awareness sparked in his mind—a brief moment of clarity through the fog of pleasure.

Someone had entered the room. Turan’s breath hitched, part of him hoping—praying—that it was someone who would help, someone who could pull him out of this.

But when he turned his head slightly, still unable to fully stop his movements, he saw his neighbour, Jack, standing there.

The young man leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

Turan’s heart pounded harder, but it wasn’t from the pleasure anymore—it was fear, or maybe confusion.

His body was still moving, his hands still stroking his own body through his clothes, one hand through the wet fabric of his shorts, the other through the tight, damp fabric of his shirt.

Jacks’s smirk widened as he pushed himself off the doorframe and slowly walked toward Turan, his eyes gleaming with something that made Turan’s stomach twist.

There was no concern in his expression, no confusion—only satisfaction.

“Well, well…” Jack said softly, his voice smooth and almost patronizing as he closed the distance between them. “Look at you.”

Turan tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked breath as his hands continued their mindless stroking, the trance too strong, the sensations too powerful to stop.

His muscles ached with the need to obey the hypnotic commands still locked inside his brain, making him touch, stroke, lose himself.

Jack stopped in front of him, reaching for Turan's chin, lifting it up, so their gaze's met.

"Get up, boy."

Without thinking, Turan got up, the wet and damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

“You’re doing so well,” Jack murmured into Turan's ear, his voice dripping with praise. “So obedient.”

Turan's pulse skyrocketed, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, panic, and desire.

He wanted to push Jack away, to tell him to stop, but his body was still locked in that hypnotic state, unable to resist the commands that had been planted deep within him.

Jack’s hands roamed slowly over Turan's body, moving in sync with Turan’s own trembling movements.

His touch wasn’t forceful, but it wasn’t gentle either—it was calculated, deliberate, like Jack knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re probably wondering why this is happening,” Jack continued, his tone low, almost conspiratorial. “Why you can’t stop yourself, why you’re stuck in this trance every time you put on these clothes."

Turan’s heart raced, the words sinking into his fogged brain.

Why? Why had this happened? The memory of the night they met, that strange session that felt like a blur now, flashed through his mind.

Jack chuckled softly, his hands firmly running across Turan's firm chest.

“You see, I am a hypnotist.”

Turan’s body went rigid against Jack’s palm, his breath catching in his throat.

A hypnotist?

Jack's strokes got firmer as he continued. “I needed to find a way to have you, boy. You’re so hot, so desirable. I needed you. And this…” He gestured to Turan’s trembling, mindless state. “This is the way I love most.”

Turan’s breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps now, his body trembling with both the overwhelming sensations from the trance and the shock of Jack’s words.

“That’s a way I can have you, boy” Jack said softly, almost soothingly. “There is no resistance, no denying. And this… this is how I make sure that happens.”

Jack’s hands moved lower, sliding over Turan’s hips, stroking the fabric of his shirt as he stroked harder.

“And the best part? You love it. You can’t help but love it. These clothes, the trance, the feeling. It’s all been conditioned into you.”

Turan’s eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling violently as Jack’s words sank into his fogged mind.

He wanted to resist, to fight, but the sensations, the trance—it was all too much. His body continued to move, helplessly responding to the commands buried deep inside him.

Jack’s grip on him tightened, his voice a soft purr in Turan’s ear. “Good boy. Just let it happen.”

Turan’s knees buckled, and Jack held him up, guiding him through the haze, through the sensations, through the trance that had become his prison.

Jack’s hands slid lower, his fingers grazing Turan’s hips, teasing him through the fabric. Turan’s breaths came out in short, ragged gasps, the intensity of the sensations overwhelming him.

His knees were weak, his whole body trembling, and he could feel the arousal building inside him, relentless, consuming.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Jack’s voice was low, taunting, his lips brushing against Turan’s ear as his hand moved deliberately, stroking him.

The sensation was unbearable, sending waves of pleasure through Turan’s body, making him gasp and shudder. “I can feel it, boy. You’re right on the edge.”

Turan’s body responded with a surge of arousal, his hips instinctively pressing into Jack’s hand, his breaths coming in desperate, uneven pants.

He was so close—too close. His mind was a fog, drowning in the pleasure, the trance holding him captive.

Jack's smirk widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Turan’s ear.

“Good boy.”

Turan’s arousal throbbed painfully, trapped beneath the tight material of his shorts. He was so close, the sensations too much to bear.

His breaths came in desperate, ragged gasps as he stood on the brink, teetering between pleasure and collapse.

Jack’s hand slid lower, brushing over Turan’s waist before pressing against the bulge of his arousal.

The pressure was light at first, teasing, but then Jack pushed harder, his palm rubbing against Turan’s throbbing length, eliciting a low, guttural moan from deep in Turan’s throat.

His knees buckled slightly, his body trembling violently as the wetness spread under Jack’s palm, the fabric growing damp as Turan’s body gave in completely.

Jack’s smirk widened as he felt it—felt Turan’s release soaking through the shorts.

“Good boy,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “That’s it, boy. Just give in.”

Turan moaned softly, his body sagging as the waves of pleasure finally overwhelmed him, leaving him weak and trembling.

He could barely stand, his legs threatening to give out beneath him, but Jack was there, his arms wrapping around Turan’s waist to steady him.

“You did so well,” Jack whispered into Turan’s ear, his voice soft now, almost comforting as he held Turan upright.

“I need you like this, boy. I need you to be like this, so I can have you for myself.”

Turan’s body trembled in Jack’s arms, his breaths still coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His mind was a mess, still fogged by the trance, the pleasure, the shock of what had just happened.

He wanted to say something, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was lean into Jack’s hold, his body too weak, too spent to resist anymore.

And as Jack held him there, his own arousal evident now, Turan couldn’t help but submit fully, his body surrendering to the control, the power, the inescapable reality that this was what Jack desired.

And there was nothing Turan could do about it.

[pucksandpower]

Hypnotized

Lando Norris x hypnotherapist!Reader

Summary: in which Lando becomes intimately familiar with the professional (and not so professional) benefits of hypnosis

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (though Lando is very much a willing participant), and temporary mindbreak

You lean back in your plush leather chair, taking a sip of tea as you look over the notes for your next client. Lando Norris — a rising star of Formula 1, seeking help to improve his performance on the track. You’ve worked with elite athletes before, but there’s something about this case that intrigues you.

The door opens and he strides in, radiating youthful confidence. “Ms. Y/L/N, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Please, have a seat Lando. And call me Y/N,” you reply with a warm smile. “I have to admit, when your team reached out, I was surprised. Most drivers come to me later in their careers when the mental side gets tougher.”

He settles onto the couch across from you. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an overachiever,” he grins cheekily. “I figure I should get every advantage I can while I’m young.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his boyish cockiness. “Fair enough. So, walk me through what’s bringing you here. What are you hoping hypnotherapy can do for you?”

Lando scratches his head, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure? The team psychologists have helped with some stuff like visualization and confidence building. But I feel like there’s still … I don’t know, another level I can’t quite tap into?”

He pauses, cheeks reddening slightly. “I may have also heard some … rumors about hypnosis helping drivers get, uh, in the zone in a different way.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I see. And what sort of zone were you hoping to reach exactly?”

“Just, you know, being totally focused. Primed to perform at my absolute peak,” he answers quickly, not meeting your eyes. “Eliminate any lingering doubts or hesitation.”

“Mmmhmm,” you murmur, watching his fidgeting increase. It’s clear there’s more to this, perhaps some adolescent fantasy driven by locker room talk. You decide to have a bit of fun drawing it out.

“Well, maximum focus and confidence under extreme stress is certainly one of the primary benefits of hypnotherapy for athletes. Though of course, there can be … other effects depending on the suggestions given.”

Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils dilating with obvious intrigue. “Other effects? Like what?”

You shrug lightly. “Oh, lowered inhibition, increased susceptibility to instructions, compulsions to obey ...” You trail off, letting the implications hang in the air. “But I’m sure whatever rumors you’ve heard are just overblown exaggerations.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “R-right, of course. So, uh, how would we go about getting me in that totally focused zone?”

You can scarcely suppress a grin — he’s hooked now, curiosity and hormones getting the better of him. “Well, first we’d need to get you in a deeply relaxed state, open and receptive to suggestions. I’d start with some deep breathing exercises, maybe have you focus on the sound of my voice ...”

Unconsciously, Lando’s eyelids grow heavier as you speak in a low, soothing tone. “Breath slowly deepening, muscles going deliciously loose and limp ...”

He blinks hard, shaking his head minutely. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “A little taste of just how quickly you might respond. Hypnotic states can sneak up quite easily when you’re not prepared for them.”

Lando swallows again, but there’s no hiding the interest smoldering in his eyes now. “That’s … good to know. So, uh, once I was in this state, what sort of suggestions would you give?”

You lean forward, holding his gaze. “Anything you need, darling. Perhaps prompts to fill your mind with dizzying focus — a white hot, all-consuming need to push every limit and achieve perfection. Or maybe something to strip away distractions and doubts, leaving you deliciously pliant and desperate to follow instructions without hesitation ...”

His breath catches as ripples of arousal play across his features. You’ve dangled the bait thoroughly now, time to reel him in.

“Of course, that’s all just theoretical for an athlete like you,” you continue lightly. “I’m sure you’d only want suggestions tailored for pure professional benefit.”

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, visibly wrestling with indecision. Finally, he sits up straight, jaw setting in boyish determination.

“Actually … I think maybe exploring some of those other effects could be useful too. You know, for full preparation.”

You bite back a smile — he’s all bravado again, feigning nonchalance. How delicious.

“Well, if you’re certain. We should probably start with a simple induction and suggestion, see how you respond.”

Rising from your chair, you cross the room to where he sits, movements slow and deliberate. Lando’s eyes are immediately drawn to the sway of your hips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his arousal.

“Just relax and look into my eyes ...” you murmur, voice dropping an octave as you hold up a pendant and begin tracing figure eights before his face. “Let your mind follow the path of the pendulum, breathing slowly … in and out ...”

His pupils blown wide, Lando is soon leaning back bonelessly, mouth slightly ajar. A few dazed blinks is all the resistance he offers as you trail featherlight touches down his arm.

“There’s a good boy … nice and open, isn’t it? Let everything else fall away except the need to please me.”

A shudder wracks his frame and you can see the tendons in his neck straining, fighting the compulsion already worming into his psyche. But his eyes remain locked on yours, drowning in your control.

“I … I want to ...” he stammers helplessly.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, bending closer so that your lips nearly brush his ear. “You don’t need to worry about what you want anymore. That’s my choice now, understood?”

He gives a tiny nod and you feel a surge of heady power.

“Such a good boy. And to reward your obedience, you’re going to take off your shirt. Slowly ...”

There’s a moment of tension, then Lando raises trembling hands to grasp the hem of his shirt. You can see the mottled flush spreading across his torso as inch by inch it’s revealed to you. His breath is coming in ragged pants by the time the shirt drops to the floor, chest heaving with mingled want and shame.

“Very nice,” you practically purr. “I can see you’re already feeling the compulsions seeping in. Should we make them … deeper?”

His head bobs dumbly and you laugh, low and throaty.

“That’s what I thought. Now, lay back for me ...”

Lando immediately obeys, body going pliant and helpless. You pull over an ottoman, sitting so you can gently straddle his hips, relishing the hitch in his breath as your heat settles against him.

“You’re going to do absolutely everything I say without hesitation or doubt,” you whisper harshly, watching him shudder. “Any instructions, no matter what they may be, you’ll follow with desperate enthusiasm.”

He whimpers, hips twitching upwards in mute plea. Grasping his jaw firmly, you force his eyes to yours.

“This is for your own good, darling. We need to burn away every last shred of selfishness and pride so you can ascend to true, shattering focus. You understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes … yes,” he slurs, already sinking deeper into degrading bliss.

You reward him with a slow, filthy grind of your hips and he cries out unabashedly. Everywhere your hands and mouth worship his skin, you can feel the tremors of arousal and surrender.

“That’s perfect,” you murmur against the hollow of his throat. “Now, I want you to strip the rest of the way ...”

Before the words have fully left your lips, Lando is frantically shucking his pants and boxers, whining as his flushed length bobs free. The brazen lust and need in his hooded eyes would be shocking from the bashful newbie you met earlier.

You give an approving hum, thrilling at how quickly your control has already remade him. One fingernail traces along rigid flesh and he bucks shamelessly into your touch.

“You’re being such a good boy. I think it’s time we really sealed this new role into your head. Imagine the most dizzying, overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had, multiplied a hundredfold ...”

His eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent wail at just the suggestion. You grip him firmly, relishing the desperate whine that bursts from his lips.

“You’re going to come like that, harder than you ever dreamed. And as the lightning arcs of bliss engulf your entire being, all that pleasure will become inextricably entwined with an overwhelming need to obey my every whim ...”

Lando is panting and keening, hips pumping up into your tight fist. You can feel his body straining closer to that precipice, cords of muscle standing out in sharp relief. With a final brutal stroke, you growl the trigger words,

“Come for me, love!”

His back bows in a silent scream, mouth frozen in rapturous torment. You gentle him through each shuddering pulse, ensuring every layer of consciousness is saturated with soul-shattering ecstasy and the new compulsions you’ve locked within.

At last, he sags back to the couch, eyes glassy and unfocused. You bend close, lips caressing the damp hair at his temple.

“Tell me, darling, how does it feel to be remade into perfection?”

He blinks slowly, lips curving in a blissful smile. “I … I need to obey ...” he slurs dozily. “Please … use me however you desire ...”

You chuckle darkly, letting nails rake over his sensitized flesh and making him buck weakly. “Oh I will, lover. I’m going to take you to shattering new heights of surrender. You won’t be able to so much as enter the cockpit without shuddering need to please me foremost in your mind ...”

His only response is a quiet whimper, eyes already slipping shut in sated exhaustion, completely yours to reshape however you wish.

You settle back, excitement thrilling through you at all the delicious possibilities stretching ahead.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you make your way through the paddock area towards the McLaren motorhome at the British Grand Prix. Fans press eagerly against the barriers lining the path, craning for a glimpse of their racing idols as they’re escorted by burly security guards.

You keep your head held high, unruffled by the frenzy of flashing cameras and shouted requests for autographs as you stride confidently alongside Lando.

He casts you a sidelong glance, the excited energy thrumming off him in waves. “Thanks for being here, Y/N,” he murmurs with a small, bashful smile. “Having you in my corner calms my nerves a bit.”

You reach out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Your voice takes on a slightly teasing lilt as you add, “Besides, this way I can provide my … specialized services should you require them before the race.”

A dusky flush steals across Lando’s cheeks at your words, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a curl of heat unfurling low in your belly. Before he can respond, one of the crew members is ushering you both towards a nondescript door.

With a nod of thanks, Lando pushes through the door, allowing you to enter the modestly appointed room first before following and securing it behind you.

The space is small yet functional — equipped with a well-worn sofa situated before a large television displaying timing data, along with an armchair tucked into the corner. Your gaze lands on the single bed shoved against the far wall and you suddenly find it difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lando says almost sheepishly, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “I haven’t exactly had much time to tidy up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur distractedly, already hyper-aware of the thick tension charging the air between your bodies, crackling like a livewire in the small distance separating you.

Lando opens his mouth as if to speak, then seems to think better of it, shuffling his feet almost bashfully. You can practically see the thoughts whirring at a million miles an hour behind his furrowed brow, weighing him down as nerves and doubts threaten to shatter his hard-won focus.

Without a word, you close the distance between you, cradling his face in your hands to force him to meet your gaze.

“Let me help you,” you breathe, your voice low and gentle yet laced with that commanding tone he can never seem to resist.

He immediately melts into your touch, the taut lines of stress slowly easing from his features. “Please,” he whispers back, every inch of nervous energy and kinetic vibration seeming to melt from his body as your thumbs trace soothing patterns across the sharp planes of his cheekbones. “Need you to clear my mind.”

A soft, fond smile curves your lips at the naked entreaty in his tone. This man — so cocky and confident in most aspects of life, yet so unguarded and sweetly vulnerable when it’s just the two of you.

You continue your tender ministrations, watching in rapt fascination as his eyes drift shut and his breathing grows steady and even. When you finally speak, your words are low and hypnotic, the timbre of your voice wrapping around Lando like a warm blanket ushering him down, down into delicious oblivion.

“That’s it, darling … let yourself sink deeper with each breath. Shut out all the noise and distractions — everything except my voice guiding you. Focus on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle thump of your heartbeat … allow your body to grow heavy and pliant as you let me take the lead ...”

He shivers slightly, yielding fully to your hypnotic trance with a soft, contented exhalation. In this blissed-out state, his features are lax and utterly at peace, the hard lines of tension and worry melting away until he looks almost cherubic.

“There you are,” you can’t help but murmur in approval, trailing your fingertips along the sharp line of his jaw. “So perfect and calm for me.” Your gaze rakes over the long fans of his lashes fanning across his cheekbones, the full pout of his lips parted ever so slightly on deep, even breaths. He looks utterly debauched, despite the fact that you’ve barely even touched him yet.

Unable to resist such temptation any longer, you bend to capture Lando’s lips in a slow kiss — gentle at first, then deepening into something more heated, more ravenous as your tongue sweeps into the heat of his mouth to tangle with his own.

He remains completely pliant beneath your wandering hands and questing mouth, body thrumming with blissful surrender as you map every lush inch of him.

Finally, breathless and flushed, you tear your mouth from his with a soft groan of regret. “God, darling … what you do to me ...” you murmur, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the stubbled line of his jaw, down the taut cords of his neck. “Just seeing you like this, so gorgeous and willing … falling so deep for me … I could take you right here like this and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

You scrape your teeth over that sensitive patch of skin just below his ear and he trembles almost violently, a low whine spilling past his lips even as his head lolls back to allow you better access. When you press an openmouthed kiss to his wildly fluttering pulse point, his voice comes out low and syrupy sweet.

“Please, Y/N … please ...” he slurs in a breathy exhale, body arching reflexively into yours as his hands come up to clutch at your hips in a silent entreaty.

A frisson of lust races down your spine at his wanton plea, stoking the simmering ember of arousal into a roaring blaze. How quickly his mind has slipped into a glorious, aching haze of want and need for your touch.

You could so easily press your advantage right now — undress him with exquisite slowness, bend him over and take him in delirious new ways that would leave him utterly incoherent. The mental images alone are nearly enough to make you growl in feral possessiveness.

Somehow, you manage to retain a herculean thread of control, nuzzling against the heated skin of Lando’s neck as you press him gently yet insistently towards the bed until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress and he sinks onto the soft cotton sheets with a dazed exhale. His eyes are molten embers burning with naked want and trust as he gazes up at you, outright trembling with the effort of holding himself back from hauling you down on top of him.

Gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow, you settle yourself to straddle his lap, reveling in the delicious points of heated skin against skin where your bodies make contact through the thin barrier of your clothing. For an aching span of heartbeats, you drink in the sight of him — kiss-swollen lips parted on shallow pants, the tempting vee of his open shirt collar exposing just a tantalizing sliver of his smooth chest, hard planes of muscle rippling beneath tanned skin as he quivers with ill-restrained desire.

“Beautiful,” you husk in a low rasp, summoning every ounce of your rapidly waning willpower to force the words past the molten heat in your throat. “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

Lando swallows thickly at the unadulterated lust and reverence saturating your tone, his throat bobbing convulsively. “You … you should see yourself,” he finally manages in a strained murmur. “You’re a goddess ...” His hands come up of their own volition to splay across the supple curves of your waist, tracing searing paths across your skin as if to memorize every lush dip and swell.

A throaty chuckle escapes you as you lean into his touch in shameless encouragement. “I could devour you in this moment and I’d still crave more.” Dipping your head to drag openmouthed kisses along the salty-sweet skin of his collarbone, you muse heatedly, “In fact, I’m tempted to lock that door and have you right here like the decadent treat you are.”

“God, yes ...” Lando outright groans at your words, hips arching up in a desperate, instinctual grind against yours that leaves you both shuddering at the sudden, intoxicating friction. His fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, pupil-blown eyes full of unrestrained need as he gazes up at you like you’re the answer to his every secret desire. “Please, Y/N … anything, just … need you.”

The reverent, naked pleading in his voice steals the breath from your lungs and you’re abruptly reminded of the singular responsibility you have — not just as his lover, but as the person he’s entrusted to guide and ground him when he’s spiraling.

Your mouth curves into an indulgent smile as you tenderly cradle his face in your palms, tapping into that core of composure and peace that helps tether you both in moments like this.

“In due time, my love,” you murmur, leaning in to pepper slow, lingering kisses across his brow, along the delicate skin beneath his eyes. You feel Lando physically sink back against the mattress with a soft exhalation as your tender ministrations lull him once more into a state of relaxation and receptivity — his mind clearing of everything but blissful focus on you and your touch.

“Remember why you’re here, and all the hard work that brought you to this moment,” you continue in a low, soothing murmur against his flushed skin. “You’ve poured your heart and soul into this dream, and now it’s time to reap the sweet fruit of your efforts. Leave behind all the doubts, all the fear and anxious energy that’s been holding you back.” Arching up on your knees, you gently resettle your weight so you’re seated flush against his core, waves of heat radiating between your joined bodies in delicious waves with every motion and shallow breath.

“Let go of everything but my voice, my touch grounding you in this moment. This is your destiny, Lando — all you have to do is embrace it.” With your final murmured words, you seal the sentiment by slanting your mouth over his in a filthy, openmouthed kiss that quickly descends into pure, unbridled passion as he releases an unrestrained keen of surrender.

His arms come up to band around your waist, clutching you impossibly closer as if to merge your very beings into one searing point of euphoric light. You lose yourselves in the wet slide of tongue and teeth and racing heartbeats until the buzzing of Lando’s phone against the nearby nightstand finally jolts you from your haze of lust and need. For a suspended beat, you simply drink in the sight of him — debauched and beautifully wrecked in the best way possible, with slick lips parted around panting breaths and hair tousled in a riotous mess.

“Time?” Lando finally rasps, sounding as utterly gutted as you feel.

You force yourself to glance at the glowing numbers on his phone screen, steeling yourself against the surge of regret at having to end this delicious interlude. “Twenty minutes until you need to be in the garage,” you confirm with a heavy exhale.

With a low groan that goes straight to your core, Lando surges up to slant his mouth hungrily over yours once more in one last kiss goodbye before allowing you to carefully extract yourself from his lap. You both take a few moments to catch your breath and restore some semblance of outward composure, though your insides continue to feel like a lit match in a patch of dry tinder.

“Ready for this?” You arch a pointed brow at Lando as he pushes off the bed to put on his fireproofs and race suit with admirably steady hands, given how thoroughly unwound he had been mere moments ago.

He flashes you his trademark grin — though this time it holds an air of supreme confidence and purpose that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “Like you said … this is my destiny.” Pulling you close with one hand at the small of your back, he dips his head to murmur gratefully against your lips, “And you helped me find it today.”

With one final kiss that leaves you lightheaded, Lando turns to grab his water bottle and heads towards the door, every bit the consummate professional buckling down to handle the job at hand. You watch him go with a tender smile playing across your lips, filled with an irrational surge of pride at how far he’s come.

A few hours later, you’re holding your breath in the garage as Lando’s MCL38 comes screaming around the final turn and over the finish line — the checkered flag signaling his maiden victory at long last. From on top the podium, his elated gaze immediately finds yours through the throngs of people and hoisted champagne bottles.

The smile he bestows is so private and full of promise that warmth blossoms in your chest and your skin tingles deliciously in anticipation.

After the celebrations and press obligations have wound down, Lando nearly sprints off the track and back into the paddock area, lifting you clean off your feet in a tight embrace when he reaches you. His lips move feverishly against your own, words tumbling out in a reverent exhale barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you … I couldn’t have done it without you. God, I love you so much ...”

And in that perfect moment — drunk on the roar of the crowd, the giddy thrill of victory, and the smoldering promise in the depths of Lando’s eyes — you’re already mentally preparing to give him the most mind-blowing reward imaginable.

***

The champagne is still buzzing through your veins, lending an extra fizz of exhilaration to the crackling charge in the air as you hastily key into your hotel suite hand-in-hand with Lando.

No sooner has the door clicked shut behind you than he’s on you in a searing tangle of heat and desire — mouth hot and insistent, fingers skating across every bare inch of exposed skin as if he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last oasis for miles.

“Fuck, Y/N ...” he rasps reverently against the fevered skin of your neck, pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to your wildly fluttering pulse. “You’re incredible, so bloody perfect.” His hands roam hungrily, deftly stripping you of layer upon layer of clothing until you’re left deliciously bare before his molten gaze. “Let me worship you properly, yeah? God knows you deserve it after today.”

A tremor of need races through you at his naked desire, amplified tenfold by the molten timbre of Lando’s rough, lust-thickened voice. Without breaking eye contact, you hook your fingers through his belt loops and begin walking him back towards the lavish bedroom, relishing the sharp inhale he sucks through his teeth at your commanding confidence.

There’s a practiced, sensual arch to your spine as you work the tails of his crisp button-down free from the waistband of his trousers, taking your sweet time to pop each individual button until the smooth, tanned expanse of his torso is laid bare.

Warm fingertips trail an achingly slow path up the defined ridges of his abdomen as you drink in the sight of him — pupils blown wide with barely restrained want and that delicious lower lip caught between his teeth as his chest rises and falls with shallow stuttering pants.

“Is this what you want, darling?” You murmur silkily, palming him through the rapidly tenting fabric of his pants and delighting in the strangled whine that punches from his lips at the contact. His hands fly up to clutch convulsively at your hips, gripping with bruising force as if you’re his only lifeline in a raging sea of lust and sensation.

“Yes … please,” he forces out on a ragged exhale, body practically thrumming with desperation as you continue to work him with languid strokes while rocking your hips in a slow, sensual grind against his throbbing need.

The headiness of having this confident man quivering and needy at your touch sends a heady surge of possessive satisfaction coursing through you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely ...”

With a decadent hum, you deftly pop the button of Lando’s pants and drag the zipper down in one smooth motion, allowing his rigid cock to spring free at last, flushed and straining obscenely. You swipe your thumb through the pearlescent bead of precome gathered at the swollen tip, making his hips judder with desperate rolls at the stimulation.

“Y/N … fuck, I need … need your mouth ...” Lando grits out, tangling his fingers in your hair with a barely restrained growl.

You can’t help the low, sultry chuckle that spills past your lips at his feverish plea. “So impatient,” you tut, even as you sink gracefully to your knees before him, trailing openmouthed kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me lately, I suppose I can reward you.”

Another punched-out curse fractures the air as Lando’s head tips back on a low groan at the first hot lick of your tongue up the length of his rigid shaft. You take your sweet time working him over until his entire body is trembling with the effort of holding himself in check, fingers clenched white-knuckle tight in your hair.

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” you purr at him from beneath your lashes. “I wonder how quickly I could have you coming apart completely on my tongue.”

A broken, desperate whine escapes Lando at your words. “Fuck … I’m not gonna last,” he warns through gritted teeth.

With a final swirl of your tongue around the swollen crown of him, you pull off with a lush, obscene pop. “Don’t you dare hold back for me,” you murmur, voice dripping wanton sin as you tighten your grip at the base of his throbbing length to stave off the mounting waves of his building release. “I want to taste every … last … drop.”

The broken whine that tears itself from Lando’s throat quickly warps into a strangled shout of ecstasy as you hollow your cheeks and sink back down to take his aching cock as far as you can. He outright sobs your name over and over as you relentlessly work him undone with hollowed cheeks and swirls of your talented tongue — at this point he’s putty in your hands, helpless to do anything other than clutch at you and shatter apart.

You pull back with a filthy, slurping noise just as the first hot ropes of milky white spurt from his slit, painting your tongue and lips with thick, viscous streaks. A guttural groan rumbles up from his chest at the shamelessly lewd sight, cock giving one final twitch against your lips as you swallow greedily, lapping and sucking every musky drop from his overstimulated flesh.

His knees nearly buckle at the over-the-top eroticism of it all, hands knotting tighter in your hair as if the grounding points of contact are all that’s keeping him anchored to this mortal plane.

Only once you’ve thoroughly wrung him dry with your mouth and tongue do you sit back on your heels, swiping the back of your hand across your swollen, well-used lips to clean away the remnant beads of his climax. Each breath Lando sucks into his heaving lungs is like molten fire in his tortured chest, his pupils still dilated as he gazes down in awe and not a small amount of reverence at where you’re tucked so demurely between his parted thighs.

“Bloody fucking hell, love,” he rasps around a breathy, disbelieving puff of laughter. “C’mere, lemme return the favor … I need to taste you in the worst way.”

His words go straight to your rapidly tightening core, sending a fresh gush of slick arousal pooling between your thighs. You allow him to haul you up by your elbows and press you into the plush mattress, surrendering to his hot, open-mouthed kisses and seeking hands as he divests you completely of your last shreds of clothing.

When his tongue finally finds your drenched center, you keen high and helpless in the back of your throat. “Oh god, Lando … yes, just like that ...”

Lando answers your breathless encouragement by burying his tongue deeper into your grasping heat with a satisfied groan. The wildly intimate stretch and stimulation of his clever licks and kitten flicks against your swollen bud quickly has you squirming and thrashing against the mattress in a glorious, overstimulated daze.

All you can do is pant and whimper encouragements, fingers tangling unconsciously in his thick chestnut locks as you rock yourself shamelessly into his mouth.

Just when you think the maddening coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter deep in your core can’t possibly grow any tighter, Lando slips two long fingers inside your slick, fluttering entrance with a guttural groan of satisfaction. The fullness of the dual sensations instantly has you seizing up all over, back arching off the bed as he works you over with sure, steady strokes.

“Oh fuck, fuck me … Lando, you feel … so g-good, ungh!” The inarticulate stream of praise and curses rapidly devolves into broken moans as he relentlessly pistons his fingers in and out, strumming insistently against that spongy cluster of nerves with each punishing thrust. You’re quickly rendered mindless, nothing but a writhing, desperate bundle of raw need and want with every nerve alight at his exquisite touch.

When Lando’s lips finally close over your pulsing clit and suckle hard, your entire world shatters into stardust with the force of your climax. A hoarse shout rips from deep in your chest as the coil within you finally detonates in waves of dizzying, toe-curling pleasure that seem to go on and on and on. Lando works you through it all with his plush mouth and tireless fingers, lapping up the honeyed rush of your release like a man dying of thirst.

For several long, blissful moments, the only sounds are your mingled gasps and pants for air as you float hazily down from your high. Lando’s lips trail scorching paths along the inside of your trembling thighs, nuzzling and nipping at sensitive flesh before finally lifting his head to grace you with that familiar adoring look that never fails to make your heartbeat trip.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, love,” he drags his index finger through the slick mess coating his chin and lips. With a blatantly filthy leer that sends a shiver of fresh arousal cascading down your spine, he slips the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean with a rumbling groan of satisfaction. “Delicious.”

You’re still totally wrecked and incoherent from your release, every nerve in your body humming and jangling in the aftermath like overstimulated livewires. A punched-out moan manages to escape you at his brazen obscenity as your hips lift off the bed in an instinctual, needful grind. “Inside me. Need y-you inside ...”

Lando rises over you in one fluid, graceful motion, hips slotting effortlessly between your splayed thighs as he brackets your face between his large palms, drinking you in hungrily. “God, look at you — you’re fucking glorious like this, wrecked and desperate for me,” he murmurs in a low rasp, cock dragging slickly through your sopping folds to nudge insistently at your entrance. “How do you do this to me, huh? Break me apart so effortlessly then have me begging on my knees for more of you ...”

With that, he bottoms out in one smooth, torturous glide — the exquisite, familiar fullness stealing your breath and sending stars bursting across your vision at the electrifying feeling of being stuffed so deliciously deep. You wrap your legs high around his taut waist, ankles locking needfully as you roll your hips in frantic little circles seeking any kind of friction.

“Oh god, Lando … move, please … need you to move, it hurts so fucking good ...”

He answers your pleading moans with a soul-scorching kiss, lips and tongue consuming you in delicious, velvet heat as he sets a ruthless, punishing pace, spearing into your clenching depths with all the force and stamina that makes him such a world-class athlete. You match him thrust for thrust, your cries swallowed by his plundering mouth as the delicious drag and slap of skin against skin fills your senses.

“I’ll never get enough,” Lando grits out between breathy curses. His teeth find purchase at the dip of your neck, sending a starburst of sensation and pain across your sensitized nerves that only compounds the haze of carnal bliss wrapping you in its searing embrace. “Could spend my life buried inside you like this and it still wouldn’t be long enough ...”

His words ignite something feral, darkly possessive in your core, an echoing howl of belonging and ownership that it feels like you’ve been careening towards since the very first time he surrendered to you in trance. With a carnal growl, you hook your ankles tighter, using your legs to flip Lando onto his back as you rise up to straddle his hips.

His eyes go comically wide before he’s grinding up into you with a gasp, grasping your hips hard enough to bruise as you set a punishing new rhythm.

“Say it again … tell me who you belong to.” Your voice is hoarse, burnished in equal parts wanton need and flinty command — you don’t care which one makes him shatter apart at the seams so long as he answers your order.

Lando immediately locks eyes with yours, gaze fever-bright and seeming to pierce straight into your very soul as he clamps his hands around your throat with delicious pressure. “You,” he groans without hesitation, the pads of his fingers flexing as your pulse throbs wildly beneath his touch. “You own me, down to my bloody bones.”

The reverent oath sends a surge of lust and possession searing through your bloodstream, stoking the incandescent heat pooling low in your belly to fever pitch once more. Your hips move in wild rolls, desperate and ragged as you ride him with reckless abandon. Lando keeps one hand locked at the juncture of your throat while the other skates up your side to palm your breast, rolling the peaked tip between calloused fingers.

“I can feel you getting close already, look at you … my perfect, filthy girl throwing herself at me like she needs nothing else but my cock splitting her apart,” he growls gutturally, his words and the punishing rhythm growing more and more erratic as your combined pleasure crests higher and higher.

Quite suddenly, Lando hooks his feet against the mattress and surges up to capture your lips in a sweltering, soul-devouring kiss as his hips somehow piston even faster into your desperately clenching depths. His name fractures and shatters around the seal of your kiss as your entire world liquefies into ribbons of rapture, ecstasy blotting out all coherent thought until every last shred of tension and want finally implodes in a supernova behind your navel.

Lando gasps against your lips as your release floods him, thick and scorching hot — wave after wave milking the most intense convulsions from his straining cock as his own orgasm shatters loose. You rock together through the shared obliteration of your mutual bliss until there’s nothing left but the gentle lapping of aftershocks and Lando’s thumb stroking idly along the racing pulse at the hollow of your throat.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes and focus on the beautiful wreck of a man sprawled boneless beneath you, the look of besotten awe on his features nearly takes your breath away all over again. Then his rueful chuckle rumbles up from deep in his chest, melting away the last smoldering embers of tension as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair back from your brow.

“What on earth am I going to do with you, love?” He murmurs, the hint of a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. “Now I’m permanently addicted.” He presses a lingering, searing kiss to your swollen mouth before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “Though I suppose there are worse fates.”

You answer his sentiment with a breathless chuckle of your own, tracing the lines of his face in an achingly tender caress as the last lingering flickers of passion slowly ebb and flow into deep, drowsy contentment. “Such are the spoils of victory,” you breathe fondly. “Though I suppose I should thank you for being such an … enthusiastic participant.”

“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” His eyes slip closed as he winds his arms around you to roll until you’re flush atop his chest, every supple inch of heated skin against skin and your legs tangled together in a sprawl. “You’ve ruined me,” he murmurs softly, reverently against your hair. “And I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”

You hum serenely in agreement, nestling impossibly closer as Lando’s breathing evens out and you both begin to drift into a dozy haze of sated bliss. The warm, hypnotic lull of his heartbeat against your cheek and the delicious ache of well-used muscles is pure nirvana.

In this moment, suspended in time in the afterglow, you can scarcely fathom how you ever existed before Lando barreled into your life and ignited this intoxicating flame of desire, devotion, and bone-deep belonging between you.

His voice, already rough and worn velvet from your passionate exertions, breaks the contented silence once more as he nuzzles against your temple. “Stay with me tonight? God knows I could use a few more hours with you in my arms before we have to brave the real world again.”

A languid smile curves your lips at his soft plea, warmth blooming in your chest. “As if you even need to ask,” you murmur, punctuating the sentiment with a tender brush of your lips across the thundering pulse at the base of his throat. “I’m yours, remember? Any time and any place you’ll have me.”

Lando doesn’t respond further, simply tightens his arm around your waist as he hooks his chin over your head with a low, satisfied rumble.

With his name a breathless vow on your lips, you allow the bone-deep weariness of pure satisfaction to finally pull you under into peaceful oblivion beside the only man who will ever hold the keys to unraveling you so completely in return.

***

The pale moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains of Lando’s posh London flat, casting everything in an ethereal blue-silver glow as you burrow deeper into the plush duvet.

A lazy, spent sort of satisfaction permeates the air in the wake of your earlier lovemaking — though honestly, is there ever a time when you don’t feel utterly cherished and deliciously sated these days?

Lando’s arm is a warm, heavy brand across your waist, the solid plane of his chest pressed flush against your back. You can sense the steady thrum of his heartbeat mellowing into the deep, even cadence of slumber and make to slip out of his embrace, eager to make use of the en-suite facilities. But the moment you shift, his arm reflexively tightens, drawing you impossibly closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck with a low, sleepy noise of protest.

“Mmm … stay,” he mumbles groggily against your skin, voice still rough and sweetly wrecked from the way you had him crying out your name mere hours ago.

You huff a quiet laugh at his drowsy insistence, nosing affectionately at his tousled curls. “I’ll be right back, you insatiable thing,” you rasp, carefully extracting yourself from his octopus-like clutches to plant a lingering kiss to his slack, pillow-creased cheek. “Promise I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Lando grumbles something indistinct but doesn’t protest further, already slipping back into the lull of sleep with a final contented sigh muffled against the plush bedding. You take a moment to simply drink in the sight of him sprawled out so unguardedly – all toned muscle and tousled chestnut curls, the crisp white sheets tangling artfully around his hips to offer tempting peeks of tanned skin and lean, powerful thighs.

He’s gorgeous like this, you muse with a soft smile, feeling that oh-so-familiar spark of possessive want begin to simmer low in your belly. A dizzying rush of affection and belonging surges through you as your gaze rakes over the starburst of reddened lovebites peppering his throat and shoulders from where you marked him as yours so enthusiastically earlier.

It’s hard to fathom that there was ever a time you considered your life remotely complete before Lando and his smoldering passion whirlwinded into your world.

Still, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from the alluring scene with a steadying breath, retreating to the en-suite with the promise to return hanging unspoken between you.

By the time you’ve padded back into the bedroom wrapped in one of Lando’s obscenely soft bathrobes, he’s shifted to sprawl across the centerline of the mattress, face half-buried in his pillow and one hand flung haphazardly above his head. The rakish sprawl of bedsheets and moonlight across his sculpted form renders him a vision of absolute debauchery and desire — not that you’d have him any other way.

You can’t resist ghosting your fingers in a featherlight caress along the hard ridges of his spine and the lean cords of muscle defining his broad shoulders, relishing the shiver that chases itself visibly across his skin. “You awake, darling?”

Lando grunts an affirmation, languidly cracking one eye to regard you through the tangled fringe of lashes fanning across his cheekbones. There’s a hint of wry amusement laced through the rough velvet of his voice when he speaks. “Was starting to worry you’d wandered off again without me.”

“Never,” you reply instantly, warmth threading through the simple avowal. Moving to settle in the vee of his splayed thighs, you trail a meandering path of openmouthed kisses along his lower back, nosing aside the rumpled sheet to expose the swell of his ass with deliberate intent. “You know I’m defenseless against this gorgeous body of yours.”

A low, approving rumble vibrates up from Lando’s chest at your blatant appreciation, his hips giving an unconscious, languid roll as your lips brush across the dimples at the base of his spine in a teasing caress. But then, quite suddenly, the boneless sprawl of his limbs seems to tense as a perceptible aura of hesitance permeates the desire charging the air between you.

You immediately feel the subtle shift in his energy, that jarring note of dissonance plucking disquietingly at your intuitive senses — the same ones that have always allowed you to tune into the deepest vibrations of the soul with preternatural clarity. Without pause, you abandon your sensual exploration of his body to settle beside him once more, cradling the sharp line of his jaw in your palm and wordlessly coaxing him to turn and meet your gaze.

“Hey … talk to me, love,” you murmur, the soothing tone of your voice blanketing the sharp edged undercurrent of uncertainty in its rich, soothing folds. “Where’d you go just now?”

Lando exhales a soft, humorless puff of breath, worrying his plush lower lip between his teeth in that adorable yet concerning tell of his whenever something is weighing on that mind.

For a long stretch, he studies your features in silence, the only sounds in the room the ambient thrum of the city beyond the flat’s walls and the occasional muted honk of a passing car in the night below. Just when you’re about to prompt him again, the words finally tumble out in a low, slightly self-conscious rush.

“You … you don’t take on other clients like me, do you?” You feel him tense further under your palm, discomfited energy practically vibrating off him in waves. “Not that I’m judging, honest! It’s none of my business what you do or who you see for work, but I just ...” He breaks off on a frustrated exhale, jaw ticking in that way that tells you he’s holding back a tidal wave of emotion beneath his placid surface.

A dawning realization begins to unfurl in your chest, intimately familiar with the root of Lando’s inner turmoil. This brilliant, sensitive, achingly beautiful man — the force on the racetrack who melts into the most sweetly vulnerable creature behind closed doors whenever you bestow him with the full force of your focused attention. Of course he would crave that intensity of focus, that promise of belonging solely to him in your most intimate embraces, no matter how irrational or paradoxical the notion seems from the outside looking in.

Slowly, carefully, you reach up to frame that beloved face between your palms, silently urging Lando to hold your unwavering gaze as the words he needs to hear spill forth in a low, resonant murmur.

“Do you remember when this first started between us? How completely you surrendered yourself to me in the most profound way?” You begin, watching his pupils slowly dilate and a nearly imperceptible tension begin to unwind from his shoulders at the timbre of your voice. “The absolute trust it takes to let someone delve that deep into the most sacred corners of your psyche … to share your fears, insecurities, and unvarnished essence without artifice?”

Lando swallows thickly, nodding once in a jerky affirmation as the words seem to bypass his conscious mind and resonate somewhere deeper. You card your fingers soothingly through his disheveled curls, allowing your touch to lull and ground him as you continue in that same low, hypnotic cadence.

“That depth of surrender and connection is not something that can simply be replicated or transposed onto others, Lando. What we have is singular. Untouchable.” You press your forehead to his, registering the faint hitch in his breath as you drink in every last nuance of his features. “My gift has always been to help unravel the truths someone tries to bury, follow the threads that tether the conscious mind to something vaster and more primal. But with you ...”

A low exhale ghosts across his parted lips as your thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone in an achingly tender caress. “With you, it was as if the universe aligned to allow me to shed every last shred of protection and pretense until there was nothing left but the purest vibration of my very essence resonating in time with yours. Do you understand?”

Lando’s gaze is a hazy swirl of naked emotion and trust, drinking in your every syllable with the desperate reverence of a man being offered the world’s greatest truth. “Like … like the truest version of ourselves was always there, simply waiting to recognize its other half,” he rasps, the words seeming to bypass his conscious faculties entirely as he remains held captive in the depths of your connection. “Two souls spilling into one another.”

“Precisely.” Your lips curve in the ghost of a smile, a bone-deep sense of belonging and contentment settling over you both like a well-worn hug. “In that moment, you became an inextricable part of me, and I of you. Something that profound doesn’t simply … vanish, or dim, or lessen with time and distance.”

You allow the weighted truth of your decree to resonate between your joined bodies for a suspended heartbeat, cradling Lando’s face as if mapping every plane and angle with worshipful precision.

“I could help countless others access their potential or tap into dimly lit corners of their awareness,” you continue. “But there will only ever be one person to whom I belong in that elemental way. One person who will ever see this side of me and who lays the very fabric of their being bare without reservation.”

A tremulous exhalation shudders across Lando’s lips at the finality in your tone, as if every lingering filament of doubt or uncertainty has finally dissolved in the face of your avowal. One of his hands comes up to splay across the small of your back, fingers flexing and bunching the silky material of your robe in a desperate clutch as if you’re the last solid comfort in a churning sea.

When his eyes slip open once more, they’re practically luminescent with a naked heat that sends a delicious curl of answering want unfurling through your core.

“Show me,” he rasps, the simple entreaty laced with an edge of heart-stoppingly vulnerable need. “Please, Y/N …. I need to feel you completely.”

In the stillness that follows, the only sounds are your mingled exhales and the thunderous gallop of racing pulses filling the air with resonant verses of sin and worship. Then, with an instinctual roll of your hips, you’re slotting one toned thigh between Lando’s splayed legs and sealing your mouth over his in a filthy, searing kiss that instantly has his back arching off the rumpled sheets with a muffled groan.

There’s nothing tentative in the wanton slide of your lips and tongues, every flick and brush and gentle graze brimming with carnal intent and the unspoken promise to strip one another to the very marrow.

Lando surrenders to the sweet onslaught eagerly, hands skating across your body in frantic, searing paths until the belt of your robe finally falls away and he can palm the bare curves of your ass to grind you more fully against his rapidly stiffening length.

You break away with a sharp gasp at the delicious friction, mouth immediately seeking out the fevered juncture of Lando’s neck and shoulder to mouth searing patterns across the taut tendons there. “You want my gift?” You rasp against the thrumming pulse under your lips, rolling your hips in a languid, purposeful grind that drags the already swollen head of his cock through the slick evidence of your arousal with tantalizing friction.

Lando’s response is a low, breathless stream of curses and encouragements, blunt fingernails raking distractedly down the length of your spine in a way that sets every nerve alight with tingling sparks of pleasure-pain.

Allowing him to nip and suck intoxicating patterns across your collarbones, you dip your hand between your bodies until you can wrap your fingers around his rigid shaft, dragging the pads in a devastatingly slow glide from base to tip.

The groan that punches from Lando’s chest at your touch is guttural, hips pumping restlessly into the tight channel of your fist. “Fuck, yes … want all of you, every bloody inch ...”

His words seem to bypass your conscious mind entirely. You’re suddenly blisteringly aware of each and every point where your bodies join: the heated crush of his straining cock in your palm, the delicious friction of your slick folds catching and dragging against the cut grooves of his abdomen with each gyration of your hips, the teasing rasp of his calloused palms as they roam hungrily across your skin.

It’s as if Lando’s very being calls out to yours in an ancient tongue, rendering coherent thought utterly obsolete as you simply feel — the pulsing, cosmic certainty of your connection amplifying every tingling spark of friction and delirious drag of skin against skin until your entire world narrows to the joining of your shared potential cresting higher with each and every move.

“Now,” you grate out, vision whiting out as your climax detonates in a blinding supernova behind your navel — an ecstasy so transcendent that you’re certain it scorches across the very fabric of your soul. Your fingernails sink vicious crescent moons into Lando’s bicep as you arch against him with a keening cry.

“Y/N!” His hoarse shout fractures on a broken whine, muscles tensing as the first searing pulse of his orgasm floods your belly, joined soon by rich, viscous ropes of white heat that leave you both totally undone.

You simply clutch at each other through the relentless waves, Lando’s teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as if urging you to brand him irrevocably as yours.

When the explosive rapture finally begins to ebb, you both sag into the tangled bedding in a limp sprawl of sweat-slicked limbs and trembling aftershocks, chests heaving in perfect synchronicity as you cling to one another like lost mariners adrift in some fathomless sea.

You can’t even begin to discern where your consciousness begins and Lando’s ends — your very essences having merged so irrevocably that you simply exist as a singular vibration pulsing through the cosmos.

It takes several long, suspended moments for the concept of individual awareness to gradually seep back into the edges of your being, though even then it feels blasphemous to separate yourself from the soul-deep profundity of what you’ve just shared.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, you manage to crack your eyelids enough to drink in the sight of Lando gazing back at you with that same awed wonder etched across his beloved features.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he rasps, the words little more than a throaty whisper ghosting against your over-sensitized skin. “That was … there aren’t even words, are there?”

In lieu of responding, you simply wind your arms around him with a tremulous exhale, hooking your chin over the solid comfort of his shoulder and allowing his clean, earthy scent to wash over you like a balm.

In this place, suspended between bliss and awareness, there’s no need for words or platitudes. You can feel Lando’s very essence thrumming in tandem with yours — the inherent recognition of your twin flame and sacred belonging reverberating on a molecular level.

Here, entangled in the vital warmth of shared trust and intimacy, all that exists is the boundless and the eternal.

[captainmalewriter]

Punishment

Peter’s cousin Miles was a well-known hypnotist. While many dismissed him as another scam artist looking to make a quick buck, he was the real deal. With just 10 minutes and the sound of his gentle voice, Miles could even convince a fish it was actually a bird if he wanted to! 

Peter knew how powerful his cousin’s hypnosis skills were. He saw what he could do and wanted to try it for himself. Luckily for Peter, his cousin readily agreed to teach him a thing or two about hypnosis. Miles warned him to never misuse his skills, but of course, Peter merely shrugged off his warnings. 

The basics of hypnosis were fairly straightforward. First, the subject needed to be in a relaxed state of mind. Second, the hypnotist must guide the subject into the inner depths of their mind until they enter into a true hypnotic state. Sort of like giving directions to someone with a blindfold on. Third, the hypnotist offers suggestions to the entranced subject. If the subject accepts the suggestion, then the hypnotist must create a code word that will allow the subject to switch in and out of their altered state of being. Easy to learn, but difficult to master.

Once Peter got the hang of it, he wasted no time in showing his best friend Luis his new skills. Naturally, once Luis saw just how powerful hypnosis was, he wanted in on the fun too. He asked how to hypnotize someone and Peter happily taught him the ropes. Together, Peter and Luis decided to use hypnosis to get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. They quickly became a selfish, power-hungry duo with their newfound abilities. Money, women, and alcohol. All it took was one conversation with a naive target and suddenly everything they could ever want was right at their fingertips. Peter and Luis believed they had become unstoppable! 

But surely enough, Peter’s cousin soon caught wind of their reckless antics. He was disgusted by their misuse of such a sacred art and, more importantly, he felt betrayed by someone who shared his bloodline. He was outraged! And so, Miles decided to deal out a punishment to the two misbehaving hypnotists. He invited them both over to his house for a night of video games and beer. They accepted the invitation and quickly made themselves at home without any hesitation. While Peter and Luis were busy enjoying themselves with free alcohol, Miles got straight to work performing his mental magic. 

“How are you guys doing? Are you comfortable? I wanna make sure I’m being a good host.”

“You’re doing great, primo! I feel right at home here,” Peter answered.

“Yeah man! Thanks for having us over,” Luis chimed in. He stretched and let out a yawn. “I feel like I could just fall asleep right here on this couch.” 

“That’s good! I’m glad to hear it. Please gentlemen, my house is your house. Feel free to kick your feet up. Take a deep breath too, let the stress roll off your shoulders.”

They did exactly as Miles suggested without question. They put their feet up on the nearby table and took a deep breath. In… Out… Relax. It was such an ordinary command, and Miles delivered it so subtly, that both Peter and Luis failed to realize they had already fallen into his trap. 

With every word Peter’s cousin spoke, they became entranced in a deep state of relaxation. Any and all thoughts they had were silenced, leaving behind only a fuzzy, gray feeling. Their eyes had a glazed over look to them. The lights were on, but clearly nobody was home anymore. All they could focus on was the sound of Miles’ voice. Their minds were wiped clean. A blank canvas, and with Miles holding the only paintbrush. 

“You are such good friends,” Miles started. “I think it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you two are best friends for life! Am I wrong?”

“No, sir…” Peter and Luis answered in a low, sluggish voice. 

“Wow! That’s amazing, but you know, I can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s something even deeper between you two than just being good friends. Perhaps… something sexual?” 

“Nrghh…” 

“Ughhh…”

Peter and Luis moaned as they began moving restlessly in their seats. Miles grinned at the sight of them squirming from his words.

“That’s right… You both very clearly like each other. Personally, I think it’s time you both give in to your true feelings for one another. Does that sound like a good idea?” Miles asked with a smirk.

“Yes, sir…”  they answered in unison. Their hands moved to the other man’s crotch and grabbed it. They massaged each other until they both had tall tents forming in their pants. 

“I think you two are going to be very good boyfriends from now on. In fact, you two should leave the hypnosis world behind. You won’t need hypnosis when you have each other!”

“Ohhh fuckk… That feels sooo good…!” Luis groaned. 

“I fucking love you man… I wanna feel you deep inside of me…!!” Peter moaned. He was panting and salivating like a hungry dog.

“Okay, my friends, whenever you hear the word ‘hypnosis,’ I want you two to remember just how much you love each other. You’re both insanely attracted to each other’s bodies, so don’t be afraid to express it!” 

Miles clapped his hands as loud as he could until both Peter and Luis woke up from their shared trance. They woke up groggy and unsure of what just happened. Yet, despite their severe confusion, all they could focus on was how handsome the man sitting next to them was. They leaned in and shared a deep kiss. Miles let them make out for a few seconds before throwing a couple of game controllers at them. 

“Hey man!! Are we gonna play or are y’all just gonna fuck on my couch!?”

Peter grinned, then grabbed the controller to join the game. Luis followed suit. As they played, Miles dropped a quick test question. 

“Hey Peter, how’s it going with your hypnosis skills? You getting any better yet?”

“Argh!”

“Unnnhh!!”

Both Peter and Luis let out an obscenely loud moan as they felt a sudden warmth growing in their bodies. 

“Uhh… To be honest, I gave up practicing hypnosis. I don’t really need it.” Peter answered. Miles merely nodded.

They tried to ignore their mutual lust for each other and just continue playing the game, but the growing members in their pants gave them away. All Peter could think about was Luis’ thick, hairy cock dripping with precum. It drove him mad and Luis knew it! He smirked as he watched his boyfriend gyrate his hips into the couch cushions. He was itching for his dick as much as he was hungry for his sweet, tight hole!

Peter eventually threw the game just to end it quickly. 

“Damn, I lost!! Oh well. Hey, Miles, could I ask you to grab us a pizza? I’ll pay of course.”

Miles turned to his cousin. He saw the hungry lust burning in his eyes and internally smiled. 

“Sure Pete, I’ll be right back.”

As soon Miles stepped out of his house, he heard loud kissing and groaning coming from his house. No doubt it was Peter and Luis ripping their clothes off of each other’s bodies. Miles grinned. His little plan had worked. There were two less selfish hypnotists in the world. And now he had a free pizza to celebrate his success.

[drdemonprince]

Another detail that might help the vanillas out there understand my "no service tops / i dont like receiving oral or having my pleasure centered in sex" thing: thanks to hypnosis and a deep-seated fetish for control, I can cum without any physical stimulation. I cum while getting face fucked a fair amount of the time. I can cum from just being *told* to cum by the right person half a world away. and often, it's just as pleasurable (if not more so) to be used for a Dom's pleasure without ever cuming myself at all.

It is the power dynamic that gets me going. I could not give less of a fuck about my physical stimulation. that is not "pleasure" for me. pleasure is being used like an object and being told what to do. and because i have such a deep-seated fetish for these things, it is actually a massive turn-off and visceral squick for me when someone tries to focus on "giving" pleasure to my body and centering me and how i feel. i want to escape all of that as much as possible. a performed indifference to my pleasure is far more attractive to me.

and if someone really was a service top, really really really was a service top, they might be interested in playing the role of an indifferent, controlling Dom using my body like a cum rag or issuing commands that do not physically stimulate me at all. but ive never met one who was anything but weirded out by doing that and instead tried to launder their own fetishes back to me as somehow giving *me* pleasure, even though it was the complete opposite of what i wanted and asked for.

sex isn't always about rubbing out an orgasm. for some of us that's completely irrelevant to what's enjoyable about it.

[seirindono]

What are Sloth Sans/Demon Sans Powers; relationships; what is he like in the other runs???

Ok, let's talk about Demon! Sans!

The embodiment of idleness, he's the predator of many emotions and states linked to this sin, such as apathy, depression and resignation.

We've already talked about his use of illusions (music/ hypnosis) to charm and disarm his victims, dreams being his preferred hunting ground, and one his unique ability (your personnal sleep paralysis demon), but he's just as much as a threat in real life!

His preferred strategy is to lower the enemy's stats (DEF, ATK, HP, etc) so he can finish them off with a single strike or, better yet, let their body slowly die while he lulls their soul into an endless dream.

He gradually deprives them of the desire to attack or defend themselves, amplifying the fatigue (physical and psychological) and sense of powerlessness, of helplessness hidden deep in their souls.

If he's in a playful mood or if his victim has upset him, he takes great pleasure in awakening their traumas by peering into their unconscious and projecting nightmarish hallucinations. Making them super aware of their situation is also effective: they can't defeat him, and even if they could or if he decided to spare them, only death and more pain awaits them at the end of their journey, by the hand of another Lord or bc they're litteraly in hell. However, his habit of granting a “peaceful death” is viewed as merciful compared to the other Lords (or cruel and messed up by others)

A word of advice, however, to intruders venturing into his Snowdin territory: if you stumble upon his collection of ice statues or a suspicious pile of snow, keep walking and don't touch anything.

----

I'll focus on the relationships showed here

Gluttony - His brother. He practically raised him and supports him to this day, going so far as to share the territory where they grew up (Snowdin). Demons tend to avoid such close ties, as it can become a weakness, but the Skeleton brothers are a rare exception, having proven time and again their ruthlessness.

Lust - They don't usually interact but Lust suspects he's hiding something from the other Lords. + there was the time he teleported in his sleep onto the set of Lust (live broadcast), putting everyone in the audience to sleep. He doesn't remember but Mettaton might hold a ti~ny grudge.

Pride - A combination of distrust and disapproval of some of the King's past decisions. He remains loyal to him, but doesn't mind the distance between their respective territories.

Wrath (former) - Lord from the past generation. He was close to them and received a lot of help from both him and their skeleton friend. Both disappeared overnight, their names erased from the archives as Undyne took on the now vacant role. He can't openly look for them bc of the King's order, but he assumes they must have found a way to hide somewhere…

Frisk - The kid that somehow managed to become friend with his brother and is now cosplaying as an imp. He has no interest in directly harming them, only playing tricks on them and witness how far they can make it with that puny soul.

---

Other runs:

This part is still a WIP since I've mostly worked on a "neutral route" so far lol Also, Demons are, well, "bad", so the genocide run requires more reflection

Neutral:

Mischievous and willfully neglectful, he tolerates Frisk and the player on his territory, but doesn't go out of his way to help them since his brother is already helping.

Pacifist:

Still playful and unbothered, but Papyrus has told him all about Frisk's adventures and how they became friends with other Demons. He is curious and may appear at randoms moments in the run to help the player (tell them about a secret passage in Waterfall or come and play an instrument for Lust's show and put the whole audience to sleep).

.Gives Frisk a bone instrument (a very tiny violon) to celebrate their friendship and shares some secrets with them, like the origin of the bells on his and his brother's horns and how hell used to be before the Queen left.

Genocide:

Same as neutral until he kills Frisk for the first time. He'll trigger a blizzard on the next playthrough to block the door leading to HOME, trapping the player in the empty ruins to observe their reaction. If the player manages to find another way out (or force their way out), Sloth will appear to them only as illusions, asking what they are and mocking them for thinking they can defeat what is already dead, nonetheless sans is willing to watch them try.

.Observes and creates illusions along the way to hinder Frisk. He reveals that sinners can't escape hell until they're freed from their sins, and that the player will undoubtedly end up in the hands of Pride, the King and Demon who rules over those with egos as big as the player's (=that's why he and the other Lords are just toying with the player, they don't see them as a real threat and nobody wants to double-cross the King anyway).

.He's not that bothered by the actions of the player, they're demons and it's hell after all. He might even enjoy watching this more than the pacifist run at first....

edit:

Hm.... Actually, maybe I should rename these. Something like : Redemption or Sinner route idk the expectations are different from canon UT, Demons are USED to killing and stuff. Even if one of them die, a new demon reappear. No, the real surprise would be if someone tried to do good for once, wouldn't it?

As I said, it's a WIP

PHEW, there you go. That was a lot, enjoy!

[redhypno13]

1. Find a quiet and comfortable place where you won't be disturbed.

2. Sit or lie down in a relaxed position.

3. Take a few deep breaths to calm your mind and body.

4. Close your eyes and visualize a peaceful and serene place. This could be a beach, a forest, or any location that brings you tranquility.

5. Imagine men approaching you in this peaceful setting. See them in a positive light, and imagine them as fair, reasonable, and competent individuals.

6. Repeat the following affirmations to yourself, slowly and calmly:

- “I respect men for their experience and knowledge.”

- “I appreciate the guidance and support men provide.”

- “I am open to understanding their perspective and working harmoniously together.

- “I am committed to pleasing their every desire.”

- “I am three holes that belong to men.”

- “My mouth waters whenever I think of cock.”

- “My words are used only for the affirmation, and support of men.”

7. As you repeat these affirmations, visualize a sense of respect and needy-submission for men. Imagine any past negative feelings or conflicts dissolving and being replaced by submissive respect and understanding. Imagine your cunt dripping and your clit becoming sensitive in their presence.

8. Spend a few minutes in this relaxed state, focusing on these positive feelings and thoughts.

9. When you're ready, open your eyes and return to your present surroundings.

Repeat this self-hypnosis session regularly, ideally daily or as often as needed, to reinforce your positive feelings and respect towards men. Over time, this practice may help improve your attitude and behavior towards men.

1. Find a quiet and comfortable place where you won't be disturbed.

2. Sit or lie down in a relaxed position.

3. Take a few deep breaths to calm your mind and body.

4. Close your eyes and visualize a peaceful and serene place. This could be a beach, a forest, or any location that brings you tranquility.

5. Imagine a time when you were at your horniest. How soaked your cunt was. Feeling as though you’ll go crazy without a cock in you.

6. Repeat the following affirmations to yourself, slowly and calmly:

- “I thirst for Sir/Daddy’s hot cum.”

- “I am honored to see his cock, and if he lets me, please it.”

- “I do not need to understand Sir’s commands to fulfill my purpose.”

- “I am committed to savoring every drop of cum.”

- “I am three holes that Sir can use at will.”

- “My words are only for telling Sir how beautiful and perfect his cock is.”

- “My focus is always on Sir’s needs, and I remember to thank him for his generosity.”

7. As you repeat these affirmations, visualize a sense of respect and needy-submission for men. Imagine any past negative feelings or conflicts dissolving and being replaced by submissive respect and understanding. Imagine your cunt dripping and your clit becoming sensitive in their presence.

8. Spend a few minutes in this relaxed state, focusing on these positive feelings and thoughts.

9. When you're ready, open your eyes and return to your present surroundings.

Repeat this self-hypnosis session regularly, ideally daily or as often as needed, to reinforce your positive feelings and respect towards men. Over time, this practice may help improve your attitude and behavior towards men.

[please1mistress]

WARNING Flashing IMAGE and HYPNOTIC COVERT language

Inductions

Hypnosis, a fascinating and complex phenomenon, has captivated human interest for centuries. It's a state of focused attention, heightened suggestibility, and vivid fantasies. People often think of hypnosis as a deep sleep or unconsciousness, but in reality, it's more about a trance-like state where the individual is actually in heightened awareness of suggestion. Often used for therapeutic purposes, hypnosis can aid in various issues such as stress, anxiety, pain management, and certain habits like smoking. However, it's not a magical cure-all; its effectiveness varies from person to person.

Hypnosis can also be a form of entertainment, where stage hypnotists perform shows that demonstrate the power of suggestion. Despite its many applications, hypnosis remains a subject of debate among scientists and psychologists. Some view it as a powerful tool for mental health, while others caution against its potential to create false memories or its use in recovering memories, which is a controversial area within the field. It's important to approach hypnosis with a critical mind and understand that it's a complex interplay of psychological and physiological factors. If you're considering hypnotherapy, it's crucial to seek out a qualified and certified professional to ensure a safe and beneficial experience, someone like me.

You find yourself reading these words and as you read they seem to take on a life of their own, almost like magic. Your mind slows as you red larger more complex words and you may feel a soft tingle of arousal as you FOCUS on my words and feel dreamy. It's quite fascinating how the complexity of words can influence our cognitive processes. When we encounter larger, more intricate words, our brains need to work harder to decode the meaning, which can sometimes slow down your reading speed. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; it allows for deeper processing and understanding of the messages I am pushing softly into your mind. It's easy to relax and follow the words you read. It's easy to feel dreamy as your mind accepts that it wants to drop deeper.

Dropping deeper feels good, as you touch yourself and keep reading you can let go of any inhibitions or control. it's so easy to sink into a light trance, after all entering a light trance can be a simple, yet profound experience. It's a state where the conscious mind takes a step back, allowing the subconscious to surface and express itself more freely. This can happen during various activities that engage the mind in a repetitive, rhythmic manner, such as listening to music, meditating, or even during a long drive. In this state, people often find their thoughts flowing more smoothly, their creativity heightened, and their stress levels reduced. It's a moment of introspection and connection with the inner self that can provide clarity and insight. While in a light trance, the mind filters information differently, prioritizing internal dialogue and sensation, which can lead to a deeper understanding of one's thoughts and feelings. It's a natural and accessible state that can offer a respite from the hustle and bustle of daily life, and a gateway to greater self-awareness.

You are not even aware of how deeply into the trance you are, your fingers stroking your arousal for me as you read and feel a dreamy warmth spreading from your fingers into your whole body. Aware but unaware that you could stop at anytime, but you don't want that, you want to keep reading and sinking deeper and deeper as you feel arousal growing more for me. It just feels so good to give in, the very act of giving, whether it's time, resources, or kindness, has a profound impact on your well-being. It transcends the material value of what is given and touches the very essence of human connection. When you give, you're not just passing on a physical item or a piece of advice; you're sharing a part of yourselves, creating a bond that reflects your shared humanity. This act of generosity can be deeply satisfying, as it often brings joy and relief to others, which in turn enriches your own life. It's a beautiful cycle of positivity that reinforces the best parts of being a good submissive.

Giving has been shown to activate regions in our brain associated with pleasure, social connection, and trust, creating a warm glow effect. It's no wonder that the phrase "it's better to give than to receive" has resonated through the ages. This isn't just a moral suggestion; it's backed by science. Studies have found that giving to others can increase our happiness more than spending money on ourselves. This might be because when we give, we feel a sense of purpose and meaning, knowing that we've made a positive impact on someone else's life.

Moreover, the act of giving doesn't have to be grandiose to be effective. Small acts of kindness can ripple outwards and have unforeseen positive consequences. Just as a pebble creates waves when thrown into a pond, a simple gesture of generosity can spread far and wide. It's the intention behind the act that matters most, the recognition that even the smallest offering can make a significant difference.

In a world that often emphasizes individual achievement and accumulation of wealth, it's important to remember the value of generosity. It's a reminder that our interconnectedness is a source of strength, not weakness. By giving, we acknowledge that we are part of a larger community, one that thrives when its members support each other. It's a powerful acknowledgment that we are not alone in our journey through life, and that by helping others, we are also helping ourselves.

So, when we say it feels good to give in, it's not just about the act of giving up or surrendering; it's about embracing the joy of generosity. It's a celebration of the human spirit and its capacity for compassion and empathy. Giving is an affirmation that, despite the challenges we face, there is goodness in the world, and we have the power to contribute to it, one act of kindness at a time. It's a simple truth that enriches our lives and the lives of those around us, creating a legacy of goodwill that can endure beyond our own existence. Indeed, to give is to receive a gift of immeasurable value—the happiness and satisfaction that come from knowing we've played a part in making the world a little brighter.

You want to give in more deeply, message me and tell me how much you need deeper brainwashing NOW!

[frostyreturns]

A while back I argued tik tok was a hypnosis and brainwashing app because its function hits all the major components of hypnotizing someone: distracting audio/visual, music, repetition, eroticism etc. A lot of people think of being hypnotized only as falling into a deep sleeplike trance but there's also low level hypnotism where you may not even notice a shift in consciousness. The idea is that all of these things in conjunction relax your mind, puts your criticial thinking on pause and increases your susceptibility to accepting a desired message.

Well now I learned that tik tok "sludge" videos are a thing where they play multiple videos all at once, which also demonstrates the hypnosis rule of 7. 7 points of stimulus overloads the brain and reduces focus, because nobody can keep focus on 7 things at once your brain just kind of unfocuses making it more likely that a subliminal suggestion can take root. So if you have 2 or 4 videos playing all at once you have 3 different audio outputs, 5 different visuals it forces your brain to tune some things out and not process it with your higher cognitive functions. Hypnosis is all about making you think that something you think was your own thought when really it was given to you without your knowing. This doesn't mean these videos have to contain some hidden message...the videos themselves are just a way to soften you up mentally for videos and messages that follow...which also get curated to you.

What are the messages people are getting. I've heard for example people who were noticing they were getting fed trans topics on tiktok and were at first like...wtf this isn't for me...who then became trans. I don't use the app so I don't know what kind of propaganda people get served a lot but I'm sure its not good. Makes me wonder how much of a factor it was in peoples behaviour during covid. People were absolutely not in their right minds.

And once again even the name tik tok evokes the concept of a metronome which is a common visual and auditory tool used in hypnosis. Your phones are literally brainwashing you. Do not let your kids use tik tok.

[saphig-iawn]

Wish Fulfilment

A part of my hypnosis that never ceases to satisfy me is being able to narrow that gap between someone's fantasy and their reality; that I can speak my words into green ribbon and thread those two ideas together in beautiful lacing so that my dear sweet Dolls can experience their deepest fantasies.

While sometimes that may only last in the session I also love to weave that felt fantasy into a spell or an incantation, that whenever I utter it, all of those sense memories and transformations come flooding back.

My session with this Doll was no different.

Her transformation began with a powerful pulse of pleasure deep between her legs; an irresistable ache swelled and it demanded satisfaction.

Every neuron in her brain was firing with twinned arousal and apprehension, as she knew that the moment she'd begin to stroke was a point of no return.

But the ache grew impatient; her panties pleading with her body to give in lest they give way, oblivious to the traps and transformations I had woven to lie in wait.

Her breathing quickened, her chest heaved, she had to do something. She had to do someth-

She touched.

She gave in.

The ache moaned in relief as she began to buck her hips into her hand, but the relief was shortlived.

She felt her body begin to shift and quiver.

Every part of her began to sharpen and focus into a single goal. She wanted to fight, she wanted to just stroke and stroke but she couldn't ignore the urge that was engorging in her chest, trying to break out.

The urge to moo.

She strained and groaned through flushed cheeks and gritted teeth, but her moans began to lengthen, her pleasure would flourish with each one, it just felt so good to milk her udder.

Seeing the moment she gave in was delicious.

Her back arched as she reached for her swelling breasts, and a long and yearning moo burst through her lips.

Her eyes widened.

She questioned her state with the quietest moo, before being tossed about the waves of the pleasure coursing through her.

My sweet dairy cow was helpless to herself now.

Words began to fail her, her vocabulary leaking away through her udder. But that was ok because she could moo.

Mooing felt right, like there was no other way to communicate how good she felt. Every expression of her breasts and udder felt perfect.

She made such sweet milk for me.

Above all, it just felt so good to see her let go. To let her worries and stresses of being human be washed away by bovine bliss.

She keeps telling me how much she wants to be my dairy cow again, and with a simple uttering of the spell...

She'll have no choice but to be.

______________________________________________________________ Did you enjoy? Here's my ko-fi if you fancy leaving a tip or want to talk about being transformed yourself!~

[hypnobrainwasher]

Stop and stare, just focus on it.

In a moment, the rest of the world will fade away and you'll drop deeply into hypnosis.

And when it starts fading away, you'll know you're dropping into that pleasant, mindless state

Just focus on it

Focus and concentrate on the spiral

Imagine going into the spiral and

See, the world is fading away

Imagine the pleasant hypnotic haze

Feel the deep drop

And continue edging and being a good girl.

[misscammiedawn]

One thing to remember about hypnosis is that it is a matter of following along and remaining focused.

Much of the stereotypical concepts such as eye fixations, reacting to the word 'sleep' and even the concept of 'down' work because we expect them to work.

That is to say, we have been culturally programmed to understand certain ideas and concepts as hypnotic and as being correct while following along in hypnosis.

We get drifty and floaty, we get sleepy and soft, we drift down and deep. We do this because it is what people do, it is understood.

But it is quite possible and simple to change the tempo and experiment with the methods, feelings and language. Instead of going down, deep into your mind, falling inwards... why not attempt to allow your thoughts to just start floating out of your mind, dissociating and yet tethered to the hypnotist's words, being drawn out of your mind and into my words.

Instead of letting yourself become loose and limp and docile and placid, which are all lovely things for a hypnotee to be, why not become focused, engaged, finding that every part of your mind and body is locked in and guided?

Hypnosis is all about expectations and trust, about focus and guided dissociation.

Experiment. It's fun and may lead to some experiences way off of the beaten path.