#love me some hypnosis and dubious consent

[lamorravailxoxo]

Here's the story I said I was gonna do, got busier than I expected so here's a quick one. Hope you enjoy, and if you do don't hold back in saying so:

It's been a few weeks since your brother came home from studying abroad. The two of you have an alright relationship. He's older so he always did his own thing and the two of you ran in different circles. You remember him getting into trouble when he was in high school as well as bringing a different girl over every month, but only when your parents weren't home. Part of you wanted to blackmail him for that, get him to cover you as you did some stuff you wanted, but something about your brother scared you a little. He had these...looks he'd give other girls. Almost like a sneer and almost always when they weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd do it right in front of them. You never saw their expression, but they'd usually meekly follow him up to his room and then the loud metal music would play. Sometimes, he'd give you that look. You only know cuz you accidentally saw him once and became conscious of it, your heart instantly sinking as you felt his eyes on you. But that was the past, surely he grew up and out of that after he went off to college, right?

A clap grabs your attention for a second, a chuckle following soon after. Guess something funny happened? Your parents were gone, taking a vacation. You yourself had a break from school, but nothing going on. Not that you wanted to leave the house anyway, in fact you were looking forward to staying inside for a while. But then your brother gave a surprise visit, and now your alone time is ruined. It was awkward, since you two weren't close. But it's strange, it's been a few weeks yet it doesn't feel like it. He's laying on the couch, watching something on Netflix and yet you get this weird feeling of deja vu. You feel like you've been here, seen this very scene. Your brother, sprawled out on the couch watching this very episode. You can't quite put your finger on- "What are you doing? If you want to watch, just sit down don't stand there like some middle aged dad." His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you feel them slip away just as quickly as they came. You turn to look at him, an amused expression on his face. "Yeah, sure..." you half mumble back. You feel a little dizzy all of a sudden, so you do as he suggested and sit down. "You good? You seem a little pale." "Just dizzy, for some reason. I'll be fine" "If you say so. But if you start sweating or something, I suggest taking some layers off."

Now that he mentions it, you notice that you are feeling a bit warm. How did you not notice the sweat beginning to form on your brow? You nod in agreement, and without a second thought about it start to strip. You pull your top off and slide your pajama pants down, sitting back down in just your bra and panties. It already feels better, good thing you listened. Your mind still feels...hazy, as you lean back into the couch. The tv in front of you blurs into a mix of colors and sounds, yet blinking your eyes does nothing. You turn your head yet your vision is fine, your brother isn't blurry and you can make out his handsome features just fine. But you can't look away from the tv for long, the noise drawing you back in.

You don't feel hot anymore, but your body feels like it's warm all over. The haze feels like it's spreading. Your start to breathe slightly heavier and you feel your thighs begin to rub together unbidden. You place your hands on them to stop them but that only proves to be a temporary solution as soon even your hands begin to slowly trail up your legs. You barely register a snicker to your left as your eyes close halfway, the lids feeling heavier with each passing pant. "You feeling alright?" a voice says from somewhere, worming into your brain. It has a mocking tone as it continues; "Why are you panting so much? And why are you spreading your legs like that?"

You glance down, seeing the voice was right. Your legs, closed previously, were now spread wide open. A damp spot was clearly visible, even through your half open eyes. One of your hands was very openly touching your clit through your underwear. Your other hand was cupping your breast.

"Huh?"

"Geez, didn't realize my little sister was a whore."

That word enters your brain and it feels like it kick starts that fire in you. You let out a moan immediately, loud and primal, as your fingers pinch your nipple in response.

You feel that look of his on you without even looking up. That sneer of superiority, of looking completely down on someone beneath him. It only stokes the fire inside of you, yet even now you can't cum. Something about this, in a situation where a simple word pushed you to the brink, is still keeping you teetering on the edge of release.

You feel hot breath on your ear and shudder in response. Your whole body tenses, as if it expects what's coming next.

"Unfortunately, I got plans to see some other bitches today. So we'll have to wrap this up here for now. But don't worry, I'll be sure to pound you into your sheets later just like before"

You whimper, looking up at him for the first time in a while with the most pathetic pleading expression you can muster.

"Aw, what's wrong? You want your nice older brother to help you cum?"

"Mhm!" your nod your head vigorously, making him laugh at you

He leans away from you and you feel that fire inside you sputter a little. You feel desperation and anguish as he goes further away, but soon that's replaced with more desire and excitement as he begins to slide his pants down. Back to his previous spot, he leans back and places his arms behind his head. His dick, to which your eyes are now locked on, is large and throbbing. Beckoning. You feel your mouth begin to water in response almost instantly.

"I suppose I have time for an appetizer before tonight. Go ahead, I'll let you ride me. But you can only cum when I do, go it slut?"

"Yes! Yes, please!"

"Then hurry up."

You all but scramble into his lap, shedding your underwear as quickly as possible. Your pussy is dripping, your inner thighs drenched in excitement. Practically hyperventilating, you hover right over his dick and look at him in anticipation. Waiting for permission like you've done this dozens of times before.

He smiles that familiar, superior smile as he looks you dead in the eyes and you shudder.

"Go ahead"

You immediately slam down, swallowing him in one swift motion. You feel a jolt of pleasure, like electricity, shoot straight into your brain. Your body twitches in response, but already your hips are rising. You were told you can't cum except when he does and you need to cum. You feel like you'll go insane if this goes on any longer. Soon, the tv is drowned out by the sounds of your hips slamming into his as you ride him with everything you have. Eyes half closed and half rolled into your head, your tongue is lolling out and droll is falling onto his chest. He doesn't seem to mind, instead reaching over and pinching your nipples as you bounce like a sex addict. You moan, you've been moaning, but it's like his touch is a drug. You can't help but feel immense pleasure every time he does something. A little voice in the back of your head wonders "why?" but it gets smothered in the sea of euphoria as your brain screams at you to go faster, to go harder.

"More!" you shout, echoing your thoughts. He's just laying there as you hammer yourself onto him as hard as you can. Your whole body tingles, from head to toe, but it's your womb that you feel the most. It aches in need, in desire, wanting nothing more than to drown in your older brothers sperm. You swear you feel it kiss the tip of his dick every time you bottom out, your cervix getting crushed in indescribable pleasure.

"Not bad," he grunts, "I wasn't planning on busting early but you're really squeezing down on me. Must love my dick that much, huh?"

"Yes! I love it! I love your dick! Please, cum with me!"

"Fine, but you better take it all slut!"

For the first time and last time he becomes active. He grabs your waist, encircling it with his hands completely, as he lifts his hips to slam them into you just as you go down to slam into him. Your eyes roll up as you feel him begin to empty himself inside you, the warmth that swells into your womb spreading out through your whole body. You cum, violently, your whole body beginning to shake and spasm as your mouth opens in a silent scream. You collapse, toppling off his dick, as your vision fades completely

"Wake up, how long are you planning on lazing around?"

Your eyes flutter open. Groggy and dazed, you find yourself in your lounge wear on the couch. You glance up and see your older brother with an amused expression looking down at you.

"I'm heading out to meet some friends, I'll be grabbing lunch. There's money on the counter if you want anything, but I'll be home in time for dinner. You gonna be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm not a little kid," you answer groggily.

He grins, and ruffles your messy bed head with his hand. Your body jumps slightly, a damp spot beginning to form in your pants.

"You'll always be a kid to me, dork. See you later tonight, don't miss me too much."

"As if," you manage to respond.

You get up and stretch, deciding you better take a shower if it's already almost noon. You even fail to notice the lack of underwear under your clothes

"You'll always be a kid to me," he says, my pussy still sore and my womb full of his cum. What I wouldn't give to have someone so shamelessly own me. I wonder how long it would take me to finally realise I was spending more time desperately fingering myself than I was questioning his behaviour? How long it would take me to realise that it didn't matter how I felt, that only one thing mattered?

[uwusillygirl]

UWUSILLYGIRL’S SECOND ANNUAL GNARLY, NICHE, ANNOTATED, PERVERSE LIL KINKTOBER EXTRAVAGANZA!!!

myself and some of the most delightful perverts i know gathered at our local pervert chapter to curate a particularly delightful (in my humble sicko opinion!) collection of kinktober prompts. some are repeats, some are new, and we wanted to give everyone plenty of time to get disgusting with it. 

the below passage is from last year’s post, and remains true: “what i want most is for this shit to be fun and messy and flexible. being involved can include a cohesive story, it can be a bunch of blurbs, it can be just one sentence a prompt, or some other artistic interpretation! 

i wanted to try and bring in some trickier/lesser tapped into kink prompts (in fact, i am nervous about writing some of these), and not all of them are kink-based, some are scenario based or kink-adjacent. these are also so, so open to interpretation! please go at ‘em however you want. (and if you’re totally stuck and just wanna write pee-pee stuff post-Hoard trailer for 31 days, i will still read your shit and cheer you on. henry winkler “i love you, you’re beautiful” GIF etc. etc.)”

have fun, write what you want, don’t write what you don’t want (i think i have included some more squicks this year, so tread lightly when it’s not for you!), get nasty. prompts and notes below the cut!

anal (duh) 

feet part two (last year i don’t think i read a single footjob. i’m not saying this is assigned homework but what if it was) 

watersports (pee stuff! for all my friends! perhaps if squeamish you can interpret it as them fucking on water skis! it’s not my business how you work!

hybristophilia part two (if you don’t recall, this is a fetish for criminals!) 

intoxicated sex (stoned sex! drunk sex! maybe they finally get to have the ketamine fuck we never got to see!) 

cockwarming (perhaps self-explanatory. less of the fucking part, more of the dick just being inside <3 romance) 

hypno kink part two (horny hypnosis!)

service topping (topping/domming because your other partner likes it! as an act of service!) 

religious play (maybe it’s a church confessional! maybe chrissy is a nun! maybe they’re both nuns!) 

sex pollen (i have never written sex pollen and have read very little but i do like the idea that magic dust can make you go nuts and crazy sexual style) 

gender bend part two (make them dykes? for me?) 

dubcon (dubious consent!!! an icky sticky in between situation!!! not quite a no, not quite a yes!!!) 

tentacles (tentacle sex! tentacle porn! as pointed out by a friend, there are literally tentacles on the show …) 

outdoors (have them have sex outside! tie them to a tree like that one part in secretary! take them camping!) 

financial domination (getting off on the process of giving someone money/taking someone’s money! a fetish classic!) 

medical play (maybe someone’s a nurse! maybe there’s just a stethoscope laying around! idk!) 

sex work part two (sex or sex related acts for $, you know the drill) 

bloodplay (knives! bloody noses! idk!) 

pregnancy/breeding kink (getting turned on by the idea of getting knocked up or getting someone knocked up! getting turned on by someone being pregnant!) 

interrogation/coercion (one of our more meta picks for this kinktober! accessing or coaxing information out of someone through sexual means!) 

bondage (i have no idea how i didn’t include this one last time! good old fashioned tying someone up!) 

ghost fucking part two (let’s fuck some ghosts y’all. let’s bend the laws of physics and shit) 

cannibalism/vore/consumption (i recently read tina horn’s why are people into that?: a cultural investigation of kink and the chapter on cannibalism was so good. so i’m adding this as a treat) 

power imbalance (shaky middle grounds! no-no relationships! professor and student/employee and employer kinda deal!) 

all on one (the pervert council and i struggled to know how to define this, but basically it’s like a gangbang where the focus is entirely on one singular person? you know what i mean? talk amongst yourselves idk) 

foreign object insertion (what if something that shouldn’t go in there … went in there … as a treat …) 

sex toy wearing (strap ons, cock rings, lovense, undies, whatever)

exhibitionism (some form of sex where someone else can perhaps see!) 

cumplay (cum in someone! cum on someone! cum being consumed! cum being where it should not! cum being where it should!) 

impact play (defined most broadly as a BDSM practice where someone derives pleasure by being struck by someone else. think caning, hitting, spanking, paddling!) 

free space (do what you like! be free! and if you need a prompt, who’s ever going to say no to a good old fashioned free use blurb?) 

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Kinktober Day 26: Lamia

Natasha Romanov X GN! Reader

Notes: Hypnosis, bondage via coiling, lots of pet names, abduction, dubious consent

You’d been lost in the jungle for a few days. Separated from your research team after a storm. You wandered along, finding edible berries and spots to sleep in. Eventually you made your way to a gigantic tree. As you stepped towards it you heard an unusual crunch. You looked down to find a shedded snake skin that was as wide as you were tall.

“Are you lossst, little one?” A voice called out.

You spun around trying to figure out who, or what, the voice belonged to.

“Sshhh. There’s no need to be scared.” Finally the owner of the voice revealed herself. She was beautiful with vibrant green eyes and red hair. She had a well worn cloth as a top. Then you looked below. And you found what had shed the gigantic skin you saw minutes ago.

“What’s your name little one?”

“I’m. I’m [Y/N]. Who are you? What are you?”

My name is Natasha. I’m a lamia. Do you know what that means?”

You shook your head.

“I’m descended from the gods. I have been gifted many attributes,��� she said, gesturing to her tail, “as well as powers.”

“Powers?”

“Yes, sweet, inquisitive, thing. Would you like to see?”

She was so much bigger than you. You had no idea what she was capable of. No way of knowing what she wanted of you.

“Aww. I can see how scared you still are. You poor thing. Just a cub, lost in the jungle. I can help you, keep you safe. There’s no need to fear me.”

She bent down to cup your face gently. You had no place to look but into her eyes. Her very pretty green eyes.

“You humans have a saying yes? ‘The eyes are the window to the soul’. Look into me, human. See what you find.”

Her irises seemed to start to swirl, and sparkle. It was captivating.

“Good little pet, there you go. Look deep into my eyes.”

Her voice was so soft and soothing. Then something in you remembered what situation you were in. You started blinking.

“Oh how cute. The little one thinks they can resist me hm?” She didn’t seem mad, more, playful.

Suddenly you were lifted up, her tail had wrapped you up, binding your arms to your sides while her eyes had ensnared your mind.

“See little one, you can’t fight me. And that’s okay.”

You tried to squirm but there was no room to move. Her strong muscles wrapped around you.

“Oh this is cute. Struggle for me, little love.” She teased.

Your feet kicked pointlessly in a panic.

“Sshh,ssshhh. Come here sweetness, let’s calm you down. Pretty thing.”

You looked at her. She thought you were pretty?

“Such soft hair, oh it looks like you have a few tangles. I can help you with those, I’ll take you to the river nearby, get you cleaned up.” She mused as she petted your head gently.

“And those eyes, I’m sure many a human has been charmed by those hm?”

You blushed involuntarily.

“I’m quite fascinated by you little one. Could I look a little longer into those eyes?” She asked gently, stroking your cheek.

You found yourself staring right into her eyes. Your body was tired of fighting. You tried to force your mind to stay strong.

“You’re adorable like this. All bound up for me, and still trying to fight. But the more you fight, the more you feel the pull of my eyes, isn’t that right?

You bobbed your head up and down in a nod. Her eyes swirled and sparkled. And you felt…kept…held.

“Good pet. Let them pull you in now. Deep into my power. Deeply enthralled. All mine now.”

All hers now. You thought as your eyelids started to droop.

“Awww, sleepy little thing. That’s okay. It’s okay if you just…drop. Close those eyes. I’ll be here, surrounding you with my coils. Surrounding your mind with my words. Sleep well, pet.”

—

You woke up and you were…wet.

Well you were drying off. Laid on a bed of coils out in the sun. You were naked, with some strategically placed coils preserving a modicum of modesty.

“There you are, welcome back to the world of the waking, little one.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Also drying, over there on that rock. I’m sure they’ll feel much better now that they’re clean.”

“Could I um, could I have something to wear in the meantime?”

“Now why would that be necessary?” Natasha teased.

“Umm…” you were going to make more of an argument when Natasha moved in front of you. The cloth covering her top half now done away with. Your mouth went dry and your eyes went wide.

“Oh I like this expression on you.” Natasha cooed.

“I—uh, sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about pet.” Natasha’s tail wrapped around you a few times, a little below your shoulder, immobilizing your arms once again, but leaving your legs free.

“There is that better? Covered in my coils.” Natasha said as she started to tighten and release around your body.

Your eyes fluttered closed as her tail massaged your body. Her smooth scales rubbing against your bare chest. You couldn’t help but let out a moan.

“Feels good doesn’t it? I can make you feel so good baby. Would you let me do that?” Natasha crooned.

You lightly bobbed your head in a nod. Your body going more and more limp in her grasp.

“Sweet pet, already so weak for me. But that’s okay.” Natasha’s face was now in front of your own. She pulled you in for a kiss. Her lips were soft, her tongue was forked, but gentle as it explored your mouth. You moaned into hers.

“Sweet little thing.” She whispered when she pulled away. “Look at me, pet.” She instructed gently.

You opened your eyes and were met with her sparkling irises once again. Totally captivated. Totally enraptured by her.

“Good pet. Fall deeply into me. It feels so good to let go, doesn’t it?” As she spoke to you she lifted you up, placing you back down with you straddling her tail. “And that’s all you need to do right now, just feel good for me. No thinking, just feeling good. Grind those hips, sweet thing.”

Automatically your body started moving for her. You had started to leak when she had first wrapped herself around you. You were slack jawed now, totally lost in pleasure. The pleasure of the friction against your most sensitive spots. And the pleasure of her control over you. The pleasure of giving into her.

“You look so sweet like this. I could just keep you like this all the time. Mindless and grinding against me. All coiled up. No way to escape me, not that you’d want to.”

Sounds were coming out of you that you’d surely be embarrassed about if you had enough awareness.

“Fuck baby, you’re getting all messy, and we just got you cleaned up.” Natasha teased. “Not that I mind having to clean you up again. I’ll let you be awake for it this time. Let you be aware of my hands all over your body. Oh baby, we’re gonna have so much fun together. Getting close sweet thing?”

“Yesss” you whimpered out.

“Go on then sweet thing, cum for me. Cum for me and be mine.”

Your orgasm was explosive. It took over every cell of your being. Natasha was there to hold you steady through it.

“You did so good for me sweet thing.” Natasha cooed as you panted in her coils. Quickly, she unwrapped you and took you in her arms.

“So so good for me little one. I’ve got you.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou” you whispered into her neck.

“Of course little one. You’re all mine to take care of, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm.” You murmured sleepily.

“I wore you out didn’t I? Well I’d better take you home so you can sleep then.”

“Home?”

“That’s right sweetness, you’re coming home with Mommy.”

“Home with Mommy.” You said sleepily.

You drifted off in her arms as she took you to her village. She couldn’t wait to share you with-introduce you to all her friends.

[steviestits]

Can you do the lost boys au and the cheerleaders au please.

Thank you so much for the ask! I felt you deserved porn since you've been helping me out so much, so I skipped ahead in the fics and wrote some.

Both of these are rated E and contain "vaginal" fingering, hypnosis, and dubious consent for the Lost Boys Mermaid AU and unprotected vaginal sex for the Cheerleader AU.

Lost Boys Mermaid AU: So... you know that scene in the Lost Boys where they're all sitting around eating Chinese food and David hypnotizes Micheal to see the rice as maggots and the noodles as worms? That's what this but more sexual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though confused, Steve still came over as Eddie had beckoned him. He could feel the eyes of the other members of Corroded Coffin, an odd grin on all of their faces like they were sharing an inside joke. Steve tried to ignore them, especially as Eddie’s eyes locked onto his, making him feel as if they were the only two people in the room.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie began with a smirk, “how’s your pussy?”

Steve frowned. “What?”

Slower, Eddie repeated the question, “How’s your pussy?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t have a pussy, but Eddie was already sliding his fingers down into Steve’s pants. He hooked his fingers, and that’s when Steve felt Eddie press into something wet between Steve’s legs. The touch felt strange, except Steve couldn’t pull away as he maintained eye contact with Eddie.

As Eddie rubbed deeper, sparks shot through Steve’s head at the pleasure that he experienced simply through Eddie’s touch. A breathy moan escaped Steve’s lips, unable to stop it as Eddie pressed into a particularly electric spot inside him, which made Steve shudder with excitement. He started to rock his hips too, following the rhythm Eddie had set as more groans erupted from him, unable to control the noises he was making.

“Listen to you,” Eddie said, chuckling darkly. “You sound like such a slut, Stevie. Moaning so wantonly, even with the others around. Do you like it? Like everyone knowing how much of a whore you are when you’re riding my fingers?”

Words honestly escaped Steve, but he nodded in agreement. All he could really focus on was how good Eddie’s fingers felt inside of him, how great it felt to have a pussy. He forgot that he wasn’t supposed to have one, that Eddie’s fingers shouldn’t be able to be inside him. The only thought in his head were the ones that Eddie placed there.

“Do you want to cum, sweetheart? You want to let everyone know how much you enjoy this? How much you love having your pussy played with?”

Steve nodded his head eagerly.

“Then cum. Cum on my fingers. Show everyone what a whore you are.”

With a shudder, Steve orgasmed in an explosion of pleasure while his head went white. He continued to rock against Eddie’s fingers, humming as a pleasant warmth spread through him. Though his throat, also, suddenly felt very dry, as if he desperately needed a drink of water and skin felt too tight.

Peals of laughter sounded behind Steve, distracting him from the odd feelings that he’d been experience. Steve glanced over his shoulder and saw that the members of Corroded Coffin were keeled over laughing, as if something hilarious had just happened. It made Steve want to pull away from Eddie, only for the other man to pull him closer, flush against his chest.

“Don’t listen to them,” Eddie cooed to him gently. “They think hypnotism is funny.”

“Hypnotism?” Steve repeated.

That had Steve coming back to himself, remembering that he didn’t have a pussy. It had felt so real, though. As if he could actually feel Eddie’s fingers inside his wet heat. He could even still feel phantom pulses from inside his abdomen that remained after he orgasmed. The fact that Eddie could make him believe and feel such things should’ve scared him, but he was too addicted to him to back away now.

------------------------------------------------------------

Omegaverse Cheerleader AU: Steve and Eddie used to go to high school together, but now, years later, Eddie is famous while Steve is an aspiring dancer. Eddie offers Steve the world if he let's him fuck him while Steve is wearing his old cheerleading outfit. Of course, Eddie isn't just going to be satisfied with that, wanting to take the omega as his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gasping, Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders tightly as he thrust into Steve’s pussy. Steve had slept with several alphas previously, but none of them had been as big as Eddie. He could feel himself being stretched open to nearly his limit even though Eddie’s knot hadn’t even popped yet. This was definitely going to be an encounter that he’d be feeling for days, which only made Steve more excited and grind harder onto the cock inside him.

“Look at you, Stevie,” Eddie said, groping Steve’s ass through the fabric of the uniform. “What would the other cheerleaders say if they saw you taking the Freak’s cock?”

“How should I know? I haven’t spoken to any of them since we graduated.”

“Humor me, sweetheart. Talk dirty to me.”

Red colored Steve’s cheeks as he said, “Okay, I guess they would be grossed out that I stooped so low, but then they’d get jealous.”

“Why would they be jealous? I’m a freak, a loser. Isn’t that what you guys said?”

Before Steve could answer, Eddie slammed into Steve making him moan. Steve’s back arched while his fingernails dug into Eddie’s flesh, as he couldn’t stop the pleasure that was shooting through him. Not only was Eddie big, but he knew exactly where to hit to make Steve see sparks. The alpha hadn’t been kidding when he told Steve that his performance would leave the other breathless, not that Steve ever had any doubts.

“Eddie!” Steve groaned. “Oh, Eddie, there!”

Eddie grinned down at him, hips stilling, “You still haven’t answered. Why would they be jealous of you?”

With a pout, Steve whined, “Eddie... you know why.”

“Want to hear you say it, baby. Want hear you say why they’d be jealous.”

“Because- Because you have a big dick and know how to use it! Are you happy now!?”

“Ecstatic.”

Then Eddie leaned forward to capture Steve’s lips, pulling him into a bruising kiss with Eddie’s tongue forcing its way down Steve’s throat. Steve opened his mouth wide for Eddie, allowing him to push his tongue further in until it felt as if Eddie was trying to devour Steve whole. He could feel Eddie timing his thrusts with the kiss, creating an intense rhythm that had Steve panting while whimpering for more.

There was, also, a possessiveness about the way Eddie explored his mouth, like he was mapping out each inch of it while marking ownership as well. No one had ever kissed Steve in such away before now. No one had seemed so desperate to own him, to claim him, to ruin him for all others. He was used to feeling like a quick fuck, something to be used and tossed aside, not treated as if he was something worth keeping.

Such intent should’ve terrified Steve, and maybe a part of it did, but he couldn’t help being drawn to the idea of someone wanting him. He let Eddie draw him closer, let him thrust deeper inside him, allowing Eddie to have what he desired. The pace became rougher, but Steve didn’t fight, even going as far to grind his ass into the hand that was still groping him. Steve wanted Eddie to know that he could take him, all of him, and he wouldn’t resist in the slightest bit.

[mommyofmols]

He repeats

Part 1

Summary: never!reader has the ability to control people. When she joins the school for good and evil, she decides to target Tedros Pendragon

A/N: this is a hypnosis story, there is no nsfw content in this chapter but there is likely to be some in future chapters. This also means there will dubious consent from Tedros in these activities. Please let me know if you’re interested in a next part!

Warnings: hypnosis… um that’s it in this chapter but read the authors note about about any future chapters!

It was so easy to get him under my control. Everyone in the school was fascinated by me, as they were meant to be. A never that looked like me? Very rare. But here I was. Somehow able to pull off the never outfits without even trying. But then again, it wouldn’t really matter what I looked like. People can’t help but take an interest in me, it’s like an instinct. There’s no conscious thought about it.

As soon as I enter that school I set my eyes on my target. Prince Tedros of Camelot. I made an extra effort for him as well. To really show him I meant no harm. I had a lovely ‘conversation’ with my teachers that meant I wasn’t required to wear the uniform like other students. So I wore a dark, low, v-neck dress, making sure my breasts look obvious and out there in the mirror, doing my hair just right. He needs to trust me and I can’t just depend on my powers for that, that would be foolish.

I make my way outside at lunch and search the area, looking for him. It didn’t take long. I walked towards him with a purpose, grabbing a lot of peoples attention. It doesn’t take me long to get to Tedros and I clear my throat to grab his attention. He turns fast and looks at me, he runs his eyes over my body and I let him take it all in before I speak. “May we talk privately sire?” I say politely and confidently. He hates nevers and despite it being me, I was not going to risk having a ‘no’ as an answer because I didn’t address him ‘properly’. 

He nods and gulps, his eyes fixated on my breasts. I smirk a little, everyone’s the same with me. Of course, he doesn’t notice this. He stands and I lead him away from the other students, making sure there’s no chance of someone overhearing. Tedros trails behind me, stumbling slightly every now and then.

“This will do.” I mutter to myself and sit delicately on a rock, tapping the space right next to me, inviting him to sit. He does, there’s not too much space so we’re close, which is perfect. When he turns to look at me again, he can’t help but fix his eyes on my breasts again, I chuckle, which barely makes him glance at my face.

My power is… complex to understand. It’s something that I understand by pure instinct however. People get fixated by me from a glance, and the closer they get to my physically, the calmer they get, and the more I talk to them, the calmer they get. This unnerves people unconsciously, so they avoid eye contact. That’s why it’s good to give them something attractive to focus on. Ideally some part of your body. You want it to move with you, to make them relax further. Otherwise if they focus on grass, for example, it has no connection to me and can take longer to bring the focus to me. Straight men? Boobs. They move as you do, and it is something that they naturally find attractive. Simple.

“I brought you out here so we could have a chat, Tedros.” I state, calmly.

“O-ok…” he responds, barely there already, this was going to be easier than I expected.

“Do you trust me Tedros?” I ask.

“Y-yes. But I shouldn’t.” That’s the barrier I have to break through to get him fully under my control. Convincing him that there’s nothing to distrust about me, and making sure he keeps listening to my voice is key.

“Why shouldn’t you? Have I done anything distrustful?” I ask and scooch even closer to him, our thighs almost touching.

“No… but you’re a never. You’re evil.” He doesn’t try and move away and his eyes stay fixed.

“You really believe that? You think that all nevers are pure evil?”

“That’s- that’s what they’re meant to be.”

He’s starting to sound unsure, which is my cue to start touching him. I start by resting my hand on his shoulder lightly before continuing. “Maybe so, but they’re not are they? I’m not. I’m just a woman, who wants to make some friends. You know I’m not evil don’t you?” The added physical contact seems to break the final walls down.

“No… you’re not evil… just… just trying to make friends.” He’s talking much slower and he looks tired now. Perfect.

“Exactly. You trust me don’t you? I would never do anything evil.” He nods.

“I…I trust you. Y-you’d never do anything evil.” Now I bring my hand up to his head and sink my hand into his hair, massaging gently.

“There’s no reason to not trust me. I’m good.”

“T-there’s no reason to not trust you. You’re good.”

I take both hands and place them on either side of his face, slowly bringing it up so he’s looking directly into my eyes. “I’m here to protect you. I’m here to keep you safe. I can protect you better than anyone.” “You’re here to protect me. You’re here to keep me safe. You can protect me better than anyone.” He’s not hesitating anymore, which means he’s completely under. Now it’s time for the final stage. 

“You must always do as I say. Everything I tell you to do is for you’re own good.” Once again, he repeats the phrase back to me. “It doesn’t matter what I tell you to do, I always know best.” He repeats again. “You like doing what I say.” He repeats. “The more you follow my orders, the more you like it.” He repeats. “Soon you will start craving my orders.” He repeats. “You know that I am always right.” He repeats. “I always make the right decision.” He repeats. “You don’t listen to what anyone else says about your decisions as long as they were made by me.” He repeats. “You no longer make any decisions.” He repeats. “Every decision you are required to make, has to be made by me.” He repeats. “You belong to me.” He repeats. “I own you.” He repeats. “You’re purpose from now on, is serving me.” He repeats. “You will not tell anyone of this unless I give you permission.” He repeats. “You will behave the same as before this interaction unless I give you permission.” He repeats. “You’re mine.” And for the last time, he repeats…

[thetravelingmaster]

"Maybe someone implanted this idea in me at some point but that doesn't matter anymore, being a doll is at the core of my being."

I often broach this subject in my more dubious consent stories. How much the source of your joy truly matter if giving into it feels so good to you?

Don't get me wrong, consent is ALWAYS required but being so thoroughly brainwashed to a point where you LOVE what you are being changed to do raises interesting questions...

Like memory play for instance...

If you could be brainwashed or gas-lighted to a degree where your original memories are changed and you are convinced you remember wanting to be brainwashed...

For the person you have become, would it still feel like non-consent?

It wouldn't now would it?

In that hypothetical case where you can make someone enjoy and WANT what you are doing to them, what does original consent mean when you can seduce it out of the target of your manipulations?

Or even...

Let's view it in reverse.

What if you can face to face with a person that proved they could change you in that way. However, before they do, they ask for you consent before turning into something you don't want to be.

For what ever reason (financial, social, career, etc), you didn't outright refuse them and are still listening to their offer.

Would you give your consent to be changed into something you would never wish becoming if you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you would be made to enjoy it?

Not giving your consent means you don't want to participate, sure. But it also implies that you don't wish to be made to do things you wouldn't like doing. But if you know you'll 100% love it after the change, how does that affect your consent? Does it even really matter what you want before if all your wants and desires can be changed?

Maybe it comes down to basic principals of liberty then... You are free to want what you want and it is your right as a free person to be the Master of what happens to you.

What if you can't remember what you wanted before? Does that mean your consent was important in the first place? We are but the culmination of our memories after all so if you don't remember anything from before, why would you even be mad that your consent was ignored if you love what you've become?

You wouldn't... But someone else could be mad for you and explain that your consent was violated.

If others are right to me hurt and mad about what was done to you, even though you LOVE what was done to you... Does that mean your consent isn't just up to you then?

And if it isn't JUST up to you, then why doesn't your 'social' consent include the person that changed you?

I guess that under these hypothetical circumstances, you loose your freedom and consenting to that is certainly called for. However... If the person that changed you actually did it so you would live a better life? Would it become so wrong to ignore your original consent?

Who would truly object to being forced to live a better and happier life?

Of course, if the change is only meant to benefit the devious mind that changed you and you become a happy slave to do their bidding, then the implications changes...

Does the importance of consent in these situations then depend on the intent behind the brainwashing? If so, does that mean it would be ok to ignore consent if it's for the benefit of the brainwashee?

Anyway this is obviously just sophistry of a person that as soaked in this kink for a long while.

Mind control and hypnosis has always raised these fascinating questions for me and I've done 1 or 2 stories about it specifically. It's a VERY slippery slope and thankfully, none of this is truly possible as of yet so the discussion is moot for the moment.

It's just interesting to ponder as we enjoy our fictional kink...

Regardless of what you just read though:

Consent DOES MATTER.

Even if it is exciting to fantasize about non-consent and covert inductions, always take the time to discuss and consent to things before hand when you explore real hypnosis and brainwashing files. Otherwise, you'll find yourself in bad situation that could affect your every day life and future.

Play safe out there!

TM

Becoming a Doll

In recent days I've delved deeper and deeper into becoming a hypnotized doll. A part of me has always felt like a doll but now she's getting stronger each time I go under.

But this is what I want, to be a good doll. To be empty and obedient, usefull and submissive. Being a doll makes my mind feel like goo and my body like its fuzzy all over, I can be relaxed, not worrying about every little thing and not being bothered by my thoughts. Both body and mind being totally still.

At this point being called a Good Doll triggers submissive bliss in me and makes my mind shut down for a few moments each time. It's also ungodly enjoyable to just follow simple commands when I'm controlled.

This is good for me. This is what I wanted. Maybe someone implanted this idea in me at some point but that doesn't matter anymore, being a doll is at the core of my being. Thank you to everyone who's with me on this journey into deeper dollification, be it hypnotists, fellow dolls or just curious bystanders. I love you all, I love being a doll <3

[ineffably-human]

Guillermo, pining in London: Nadja, you didn't marry Laszlo until a long time after you turned him, right? How did you know he was the one you wanted to spend eternity with?

Nadja: Well, I hypnotized my Laszlo to let me into the room and his bed, and afterwards I knew I wanted to get some of that again, if you know what I mean, so I made him a vampire-

Guillermo: Wow. Consent is - okay. Go on.

Nadja: And when he asked why he did not remember some bits I said well, I used hypnosis on you, and he said 'no you did not. Hypnosis is not real, it is a parlor trick.'

Guillermo: But you're -

Nadja: I am speaking, Guillermo! And when I said 'but I am a vampire, I have just made you a vampire, here, I will show you how to become a bat,' he says, 'excuse me, if a flying raven-haired temptress came to my window to make me an unholy creature of the nights, I have let her in myself because that sounds like a jolly good time, I do not fall for this mumbo jumbo superstition.'

Guillermo: That's...sort of romantic.

Nadja: I hypnotized someone in front of him and he said I had done it with mirrors. We fought for hours, and then had very good makeup sex for hours. (happy sigh) That was our third date. And that is when I knew.

Guillermo: Wait, because of the arguing or the makeup sex?

Nadja: Never fall in love, Guillermo, because men are idiots. But if you do it is the ones you want to strangle who are the keepers.

[galactic-murmaider]

Some Offdensen Headcanons/Fan Theories (or: “Sed cur pateris?”)

Some of these I might flesh out into a fanfic, but then I remember of right I have two psychologists I've been neglecting for too long because I started watching the series just to get some inspiration and now oops now I'm obsessed with this show again and found a different middle-aged man to simp over. So for now enjoy some of my rambling nonsense. Also bear in mind this all pre-movie release so it is inevitable some of this will be completely wrong albeit if I do get anything right, my PayPal is right open /j. So without further ado:

1. When he was born

Little known fun fact, we actually sort of know when he was born to the point where I went ahead added it to his fan wiki page. In the episode “Dethsources” (S2E14) we see a first place plaque for a fencing tournament dated 1985.

I bring this up because with college sports there is no age limit ,your eligibility to compete expires after four or five years of graduating high school (so undergrad and maybe the first year of grad school) although the rules vary slightly vary depending on which Division it’s in and there’s small exceptions such as being in the military (we’ll get to that). So assuming Charles graduated high school at the typical age, he was roughly around 18-24 at the time putting his birth year between 1962-1967 putting him in about his forties for most of the series’s run. And naturally Metalocalypse being Metalocalypse I hereby propose that he might’ve been born in 1966. And if you want to be extra metal, probably on either June 6th or April 30th. Especially since if you believe a certain fan theory he’d technically be the Metalocalypse universe’s equivalent of the Anti-Christ albeit fortunate that he went the Hellboy route…which leads me to:

2. His family

CW: Brief discussions of dubious/non-consent (at least in the context of classic mythology)

I’ve read a few good fan fics so I’m gonna try not to copy others I’ve read too much,but to get one thing out of the way: it’s a modest bet but I somewhat subscribe to the fan theory Salacia is his father. It’s not a perfect theory, but I reblogged a post a while ago that makes a pretty convincing argument as to why that might be the case so I recommend checking that out so I won’t bore you with the full details. Only other thing about my interpretation of the dad!Salacia theory I’ll add for now is that Salacia probably conceived Charles for a specific, nefarious purpose (think Ego from Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 2); unaware that he’d grow up to become the Dead Man. I’d probably imagine he used a similar technique to him shapeshifting in Doomstar Requiem to lovebomb and hypnotize Murderface to set him up for betraying the rest of Dethklok in that he courted Charles’ mother using a specific persona (probably without the hypnosis since I don’t want to go full sexual assault here but then again his name is possibly word play on “salacious”) for reasons that don’t really have roots in “love” since as far we can tell he sees most humans as pawns to him even if he’d probably have to at least seen “something” in her. Although we at least know that he stuck around for a while rather than the abandonment being immediate. And even regardless on if you believe in the Salacia theory, there is some indication that Charles grew up with an absent father since he refers to him exclusively in the past tense and seems oddly wistful about the subject in S3E5’s “Fatherklok” (again know this isn’t a flawless theory since that scene could have several possible meanings). And hell speaking of that episode, it’d make sense from a narrative perspective since gods seducing mortals (including taking other forms to do so) is a common theme in various mythologies, especially since for all we know Ms. Offdensen may not have been the only one.

…but enough of that for now, I’d probably imagine he was primarily raised by a single mother or extended family after his father left the family. I have plans for the latter but I’m keeping my more fan fic-y ideas under wraps for now (as tempted as I am to infodump about his mom and Uncle Ned). All I will add is that the personality I gave his mother kind of depends on what version I’m going with. He probably might also come from a more lower-middle or working class background since I think it might strengthen his character arc if he didn’t come from anything, especially if he had to claw his way to where he was at the start of the series even if it requires blood along the way (because capitalism gonna capitalism). Also depending on the nature of what Salacia’s endgame is, he potentially has several half-siblings he has no idea exists. Although probably was raised alongside his cousins in the extended family version of his backstory, he has “oldest sibling” vibes to me.

3. What was he like growing up?

For the most part not super different, he kind of gives off serious “grew up rather fast” energy. That is to say seems quiet and nerdy in the surface, except he could kick your ass even back then as a few bullies learned the hard way (“have you ever been kicked down a roller slide?”). After all as established earlier, he seems to have grown up without a father which can lead to aggression and other behavior issues in some children as shown in some real life studies, but it was more the pent up kind where it’s bottled up and then explodes under specific circumstances. So he was slightly more aggressive than usual at first and for all we know the fencing lessons might’ve been a way to provide an outlet for that. Especially since he was caught at least once in elementary school, with his guidance counselor being borderline-terrified of the possibility of him being a “budding psychopath” and being not sure how to feel after he became Dethklok’s manager and thus the richest and most powerful man on Earth. Although by the time we get to high school, yeah he’s more or less similar to how he is as an adult.

He had a mostly okay relationship with his family, albeit in the present he isn’t as close either due to being constantly tied to his work and/or there’s not a lot of his family that are still alive. That and he’s specifically from Narragansett, Rhode Island which I partially chose because of the water connection and also the fact that they have these towers that look semi-“metal” if you ask me

That and he had a near-death experience at age eleven in which he almost drowned and had these strange visions of five figures with a blazing star but that’s not important….and speaking of death, I guess:

4. Does he have a military background?

As far as I know yes, albeit he doesn’t like to talk about it, it’s at least explain how he has so many skills from marksmanship to being able to maintain his own private in the form of some of the elite Klokateers ,as well as how he was able to blend in so well during the nine months he spent infiltrating Crozier’s army between seasons 2 and 3. Although the exact details I’m having a hard time figuring out (other than he probably didn’t have any encounters with the Tribunal at least no directly), mostly because the US military did have some military action in the 80’s and early 90’s but not by much, as well justify the how or why considering the college exemptions, although my best guess might be taking a cue from The Two Of Us Are Dying only without the outdated information and saying it might’ve been a college scholarship thing after something happened regarding the fencing one. There is at least the possibility that he might’ve gone to a military prep school since bare in mind contrary to pop culture believes, they’re not reform schools for juvenile delinquents and is as selective as any private school, I doubt he’d at least turn the scholarship opportunities and the sense of structure even if being in the armed forces may not be his preferred career path…that and also you get a sword and we all know Charlie likes swords.

Although this one might need the most polish albeit I did as much research on this subject as possible. I have also considered the possibility of somehow he was a Tribunal agent that went rogue ,but I’m not sure if that would make sense. Also because Metalocalypse is Metalocalypse, I at least dubbed the school the Napalm Death Academy, who’s motto is “Sed cur pateris”. Totally no red flags and is certainly not secretly part of the Tribunal’s conspiracy….I’m running out of transitions so here’s the part you’ve probably been waiting for:

5. How he met Dethklok (and the early years)

CW: suicide ideation

He didn’t find Dethklok, Dethklok found him so to speak. It would especially make since thematically since the Metalocalypse universe runs on fate and destiny, in particular of the “everything happens for a reason” variety so it was likely a chance encounter. Possibly during a dark chapter in his life particularly of the quarter life crisis variety, in a way Dethklok gave him purpose and a reason to keep going. And Doomstar Requiem revealed that Dethklok had a manager before him (and I don’t feel like just calling him “old manager” the whole time so let’s just go with the placeholder name Blake for now). I’d probably imagine that this manager was only slightly more competent than Dethklok themselves and was prone to making bad business decisions. And while I feel like I could write a whole ass fan fiction about this, I’ll at least set the scene for the cliffnotes version:

It’s around the early to mid 90’s, Charles’s post-college career didn’t exactly go as he planned since he found himself unsatisfied and unfulfilled with his job and general life direction (possibly toppled by personal tragedy such as death in the family) to potentially even suicidally depressed levels. The stars somehow align one evening so that he hears an up and coming act that catches his attention rather quickly, he’d been a secret metalhead for a while to escape the stresses of his job (a la Aggretsuko) but this band was something else, something much greater. Although interacting with them and their manager after the show was a much different experience, but he couldn’t help but take in one piece of information…that apparently they weren’t even being paid for the gig and clearly they deserve better than being “paid in exposure”, so he abandoned any plans he might’ve had on ending his own life. In other words: Dethklok being high key stupid saved his life!

As for Blake, didn’t really take his job too seriously in the first place that lead to Charles picking up the slack even before becoming their manager officially; especially after miraculously making enough to quit his shitty old job and commit to the band full time, which eventually escalated into a falling out (probably when Charles arranged the Crystal Mountain desk which Blake thought was him being a “sell out”) that caused him to quit and walk out on the band. It took at least two weeks for Dethklok to notice he was even gone, thinking he’d just gone out to get cigarettes.

I apologize for being confusingly vague with some of these, but trying to balance whether or not I should spoil potential fan fic ideas or not. But Y’know what I can’t spoil?

6. Sexual and Romantic Orientation

Originally in the misc. section but actually it went on for so long it was graduated to it’s own section

But I think he’s most likely somewhere on the aspec since he’s one of the few male characters that expresses no interest in romance or sex (the closest we get to anything hinting at his sexuality being “Goingdownklok” which even then “No comment” could have several potential meanings). Kind of doesn’t help that the Church of Black Klok consists solely of men as far as we can tell and the back of the Season 3 DVD/Blu-Ray has a quote from Ishnifus about that how “none shall birth no more” which seems to suggest that it’s a “vow of celibacy” type of religious order, although again the fact that Offdensen is prepared for such a thing could mean multiple different things. Along with some other subtle and not so subtle hints such as Skwisgaar is the only one he doesn’t pal in the Season 3 extra around with due to him sleeping with a few women, and in the deleted scene from “Dethsources” during the counterpart to Melmord’s montage (there��s even purple lighting) . But still I’m also open to the possibility that he’s gay or even that he’s into women but a thousand times classier than Dethklok; it’s just him being asexual is the one I put the most stock in. Hopefully the new movie might provide a representation win, but we’ll see.

Furthermore, we know canonically from the episode Fanklok that even in-universe there are people that want to sleep with him, which makes sense considering how much the world practically revolves around Dethklok guaranteeing high status in this world just by association and people find money and power sexy and he is (or was) canonically the richest and most powerful man on Earth; so indeed people do try to make advances on him but he politely turns them down at every opportunity. I’d also probably imagine at least a few times there have been awkward moments where Dethklok groupies have tried to get close to him (drunk or otherwise) which naturally made him just a smidge uncomfortable if very good at hiding it. So basically for that reason he added a clause to the “backstage audience” agreement that any sexual activity or advancement is restricted only to Dethklok and that attempts on employees or other associates is strictly off-limits. Especially had to since one such photo leak. He does reluctantly let the smutty fan art be sold at Klokakon though since the artists are paying vendor prices to solicit there.

6. Other Random Bull🎸

Aka I’ve covered the basics so the rest of these will be mostly lighter and not tied to anything particularly grand

Another popular one to add: He is the voice of Facebones. My main argument being while I can maybe see why that scene from “Murdering Outside the Box” could be a mistake, at the same time if you think about it logically you’d need the voice actor to do the raffle live as well as the fact that throughout the series it is very convenient that he has videos on short notice for such things as the drum machine to replace Pickles while he’s in rehab and the Dethkones (especially since he was weirdly fixated on that for most of the episode). Initially he only did it because they were still a humble ragtag production and for once it was Dethklok that was busy and he wasn’t. They did try to replace the voice for Facebones once, but it resulted in mass riots in the streets and a few acts of destruction so Offdensen resumed the role rather quickly and structured his schedule in a way that he can record in a way that doesn’t interfere with his other duties. Facebones is a tightly guarded industry secret since he is rather strict about not doing the voice outside of official business (a la Frank Oz) and often they have to take *ahem* “drastic measures” towards anybody who finds out but won’t sign the NDA. Also he keeps a steady supply of water and honey lemon tea because of this and the band doesn’t know why.

If he had an “ancient animal form” I’d imagine it probably be a wolf both because it’s a badass predator of course, but mainly because wolves are considered amongst the best fathers in the animal kingdom due to how super protective and attentive they are of their offspring. Although if Salacia’s bloodline is a factor maybe his true ancient spirit animal is some cosmic abomination that would cause you to claw your eyes out when you see it, who knows?

He secretly watched Dethklok (sans Toki for obvious reasons) throughout Doomstar at a distance both because he could sense that Ishnifus was gonna die and that his ascension to become his successor was upon him but also to attest that they were truly ready and just plain old’ being able to “function” without him. Although even though his suicidal thoughts had been at bay for about fifteen years, he would have sacrificed himself for the Prophecy if he was able to.

His leather jacket outfit is sort of symbolism of the most crucial parts of his relationship to Dethklok: how they first met (or at least the version in my head anyway), his triumphant return in Renovationklok, and finally his departure in Doomstar. Barring how he’s probably gonna come back one last time in the new movie.

He has a bedroom other than his office in Mordhaus, we’ve just never seen it properly since he likes his privacy, and is currently Abigail’s. He also owns a few other smaller properties for the rare moments he has time off from Dethklok (although even he rarely wants to necessarily spend time without them).

He isn’t against the idea of having children, but even ignoring the asexual/possibly aromantic idea (although of course that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible, adoption exists even for single parents) he doesn’t think that it would really work out due to how chained to his work he is (possibly even speaks from experience being part of Gen X aka “the latchkey generation”), and he’s already a father figure to five grown-ass men so his found family is good enough for him.

The Church of Black Klok is a group of monks…that never said they were pacifists though, so I fully expect Charles to go full Alexander Anderson from Hellsing once he dies return!

So ummm that’s it, several days and getting sidetracked by vocational rehabilitation night classes later and I got most of my bases covered, although I might fix any mistakes I left and will maybe add more if requested via reblog. Special thanks to @cloudchaser2000 for suggesting that chef’s kiss title after I previewed the “Napalm Death” thing to them 😂 and otherwise being an awesome mutual.

[pxppet]

AntiAverage Commission for @ari-trash​

A continuation of a previous commission of theirs, Chase is deeply hypnotized into the role of Anti’s perfect boyfriend, but when Anti brings home a stray cat, Chase is easily tempted down into the basement. 

CW: dubious consent to romantic actions, hypnosis, knife wounds, blood, panic attacks, gaslighting through hypnosis

▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴▴

From his warm, sunlit sheets, Chase stirs slightly as he hears a loud thud against the wood of Anti’s house, followed by a heavy groan. A small noise escapes him and he lifts his head, eye blurry. As he shifts the chain connected to his sunflower-engraved metal collar jingles. He sits up, rubbing his eyes though it never makes them any less blurry these days. He is illuminated in sun, turning is his hair and beard ruddy red-gold, golden streaks showing in his mustache that Anti insists he grows out and curls.

Another thud. Chase whines, fragments of aching memories flashing in his mind at the sounds of a body being thrown down the basement stairs. “Anti?” he calls, hoarse and in a childlike squeak. He wants Anti, Anti always makes everything better, Anti looks at him in the eyes and kisses him and says “I love you Chase, I love you, I love you more than that fake family ever could have,” and Chase doesn’t know what that means but he likes it anyway and kisses back. He sighs at the memories, lips pursing as though those hot static-feeling lips are right there in front of him.

He hears boots on the floorboards outside the bedroom. Chase sits crisscross and behaved like a good little boy, hoping that Anti will take the collar off for today and play with him, or kiss him, hug him, touch him, yes that would be nice-

Anti pushes open the door, stepping in. He is breathing heavily and his jeans are grass and dirt stained. Chase’s lips part in concern, before Anti smiles at him, and oh, oh the world is so perfect and beautiful as Anti stands there with the sun reflecting in his electric green eyes. Chase simpers softly.

“Hiya, Chaser,” Anti’s grating voice calls in a mockery of softness.

“Hi,” Chase squeaks. Anti’s brow turns up softly, the picture of gentle, boyfriendly concern.

“Aww, Chasey, does your throat still hurt?” Anti walks over, boots from before suddenly not there as he climbs, barefoot and suddenly clean in a blue hoodie and black jeans, onto the bed with Chase. Chase looks into his eyes, hoping to see the welcoming sight of blackness, of dying and rebirthing galaxies, but there is only green. Anti touches his collar, humming to himself. He smirks at Chase and raises an eyebrow.

“Want me to take that off for the day, baby boy?” he teases. Chase smiles back, eyelids droopy, and nods, a tiny, barely there ��mhm’ leaving him. Anti’s lips curl wider, and he pulls the key out of his pocket. It never leaves his pocket. The collar slips off, and Anti hangs it on the bedframe, huffing in a pleased manner. Chase rubs his neck, uncomfortable without the conditioned weight, but nonetheless happy to start the day with his boyfriend.

“Can I cook for you? Did you bring food today? What was the thuddi-“

“There was no thudding,” Anti speaks, and his voice is so, so soft and kind and Chase sinks into the blackness of those wonderful eyes, relieving every single worry and fear, making the world perfect, taking such good care of him…

“There… was… no thudding...” Chase slurs, his eyes fogging over even more, an empty-headed smile crossing his lips as he nods sluggishly. Anti hums at him, and the eyes are gone. Wait, why was he using the eyes? Was he upset about something? It doesn’t matter, because Anti hugs him, pulls him to his chest with a firm grip. Chase giggles dumbly, nuzzling up against Anti’s hoodie.

“I did get some food yesterday. Is my baby boy too dumb today to remember? Such a shame, the brain damage. You did that to yourself, you know.” Chase doesn’t have time to think about that before Anti guides him up off the bed and smacks his butt softly. “Get in the kitchen and cook me something meaty. I’m gonna fucking sleep till then.”

Chase scurries to the kitchen quick as he can, he’d do anything for Anti, anything for his master. The kitchen is small and always smells of mould no matter how much Chase cleans it. Simple with only a stove and oven, fridge, short island, small sink, and a tiny bit of counter space. Chase hums a frantic, discordant tune to himself. He doesn’t remember much music these days, even the things from the movies he watches with Anti. Anti likes showing him the gory ones. Chase is never sure if they’re real or not.

He rummages through some sparse food in the fridge and finds bacon, sliced ham, and eggs. They only have salt and pepper in the cabinets, but Chase still makes the best fry-up he can, heavily salting the meat and dashing pepper in the eggs. He sets aside a portion of eggs for himself and heats up frozen blueberry waffles on a pan, since there’s no toaster.

“Master, food!” he calls. Anti groans loudly and trudges into the kitchen, sitting his full weight in the chair so strongly it nearly tips over backwards. Chase laughs, then quickly covers his mouth, but Anti only chuckles at him, gesturing for him to come closer. When he does, Chase is rewarded for the food with a long, soft kiss. He softly whines into it, taking Anti’s hand. It feels so good to kiss him, like this is what he was made for. Maybe it was, maybe he was always meant to be Anti’s obedient, good boyfriend. Why did that ‘Jameson’ ever leave him?

There is a scream, a howl, a wretched animal noise from the basement. And Chase- Chase knows a noise like that, except from his own lips, long ago, somewhere, buried in there- oh god Anti, it was Anti, Anti made him feel like that-

“Puppy. Look at me.”

Chase opens his eyes that he didn’t realize he had closed. He is met with the blackness of deep space, the endless expanse both frightening and so, so comforting, because he is not alone.

“There is nothing in the basement. You’re hearing things, hallucinations from your brain injury.”

“Nothing in… basement… Hearing things.” Chase nods along sluggishly, mouth parted in an O shape.

“Good boy, good pet. You love me, right? I love you, so you love me back. You would never break my heart like my ex, right?” Anti’s eyes are wide with false fear, horror, terror, oh no oh no, my master-

“No! No of course, Anti no! No, I’m yours I’m staying, forever, I’m yours!” Chase throws himself into Anti’s chest, making his chair rock to the side slightly. Tearing up and snuffling, ensnared in Anti’s mocking hug, Chase doesn’t hear the second, weaker scream echoing up from the basement.

---

Blood. There is blood in the doorway to that basement in this house that makes no sense. It never makes sense. Chase is frozen stiff, coffee mug trembling in his hand. Blood. Like his blood, red and brown and dark on the wood-paneled floor, Anti standing over him, kicking him in the nose till he falls down those stairs. Brain injury. Brain injury. ‘You did this to yourself, Chase,’ Anti always says, he always assures him his stupidity is his own fault. But there’s blood. And Chase is certain there’s someone down there.

It smells like something that gives Chase deja vu. Something like the damp earth of spring and the soft crackle of fire, something like a rushing creek and the hug of your best friend. He steps forward and touches the basement door- he- he touches- he touches the basement- he- He shouts and grips his hair. Something stops him, every time his fingertips hover close, a brick wall erects in his mind and he can only think of Anti. In grabbing his hair his coffee has clattered to the wood floor. Faint, faint but true, he hears something in the basement hiss.

Curiosity giving him a burst of willpower, Chase bursts through the mental wall and shoves open the door, practically tumbling down the stairs due to how quickly he moves. What he sees, though, stops him short. The familiarity and the wrongness and the confusion hit him all at once, barreling down onto his brain. His eyes clear over and he utters the word filling his brain to the brim: “M… Marvin?”

Marvin, for their part, had shoved themselves up against the wall, pupils pinpricked into narrow lines and face covered in welts and bruises. “Wait- What the fuck? Chase? Holy shit wait- Chase?” They are suddenly sat upright and completely alert, blinking rapidly. “You’re here, with him? Wait- Chase! Chase you’re not dead! Holy shit he told me you were dead!”

“What? N-no, I’m- Who are you, why do I know you? Who are you?” Chase is roaring by the end of his sentence, voice growing louder and louder with raw panic as every alarm bell in his brain blares at him. He scrambles back from the person in the basement, sitting roughly back against the opposite wall, slamming his back against concrete. Wide-eyed, he stares at the hole, the gaping hole in his world that sits across the room from him.

“Chase, hey, it’s- fuck, man it’s okay. Listen, lovely, chickadee, I don’t know what he did to you, but I’m here now and there’s- there’s two of us, so I can keep you safe from-“

“From fucking what? You’re the intruder in this house! You’re my master’s captive! You shouldn’t talk to me like that or he’ll- he’ll-“ Chase is cut off by how hard he is panting and heaving as blood pours down every crevice of his body, as blood rots on his filthy skin, as knives come down on him again and again, fuck!

“Ch-chase..” Marvin half wails his name and crawls as far towards him as the chains around his limbs will allow.

“No! No, no fuck off, get away from me! Anti! Stranger, stranger, Anti!”

“Chase don’t, don’t call for him! Oh god what happened to you? Chase come here, please, I’m not going to hrrk-“

Marvin is cut off by a steel-toed boot connecting roughly with their gut. Anti grips them by the hair and drags them to his own face.

“Talking to my toy, my baby, my puppet! You dare fucking look at him! You dare fucking touch him and breathe his air! Pathetic waste of space! Don’t you ever talk to my boy, understand!” As Anti screeches in their face a knife in his other hand is slashing wildly at their thigh. Chase sits in the corner, wheezing softly, barely able to see, to breathe, to think any thought except “Anti came for me.”

“Okay- augh! okay, I understand, stop, stop! Let me go stop!” Marvin is yowling through tears as the lethally sharp knife leaves deep gashes along their freckled skin. Eventually, Anti’s gotten his rage out, and drops Marvin like a sack against the dirt floor. He whirls on Chase, heaving through his nose, knife clutched in trembling fingers. He begins to stalk towards his boyfriend when he suddenly cools, softens, slacks over.

“Oh, Chase… Chaser, stop crying. Did the mean kitten bite you? Are you okay? I told you, you shouldn’t come down here sweet angel, sweet puppy.” He gently grips Chase’s chin and plucks at his eyelids, trying to get him to look at him through wracking sobs.

“What did you do to him? D-don’t talk to him that way, don’t… don’t…” Marvin’s protests fall away as Chase collides into Anti’s chest and begins to kiss all over his face, apologizing between every plea of a kiss. Anti seems shocked at first, but slowly, achingly, turns to Marvin, wearing the largest shit-eating grin Marvin has ever seen.

“Chaser,” he sing-songs. “Oh, my puppy, my love, angel darling. You did very good, you called for me when you got confused just like I trained you, yes? Look at me, Chase, look at me.” Their eyes lock and Chase is swathed in starlight and never-ending blackness. Marvin growls at the sight of his best friend, slack jawed and sleepy looking in the monster’s hands. Their face is contorted horribly and they try to cast fire, plants, water, any spell that they know. It stays bound in their hands, burning at their flesh.

“Nice try, cat. Sigils and sachets line the entire inner walls of this room. You ty to cast and it won’t even leave your pretty little hands.” Anti doesn’t look at them, eyes focused on staring deeply into Chase’s own. “Chasey boy,” he coos to him. “Do you love me?”

“Y-yes Anti, of course, of course I do, you’re my- my boyfriend Anti.”

“Tell me more, dear…”

“I-I’ve been fantasizing about marrying you, I think about you all the time, I like it when you touch me and lock me up, I love you Anti. I love you.” Chase says the last bit with so much conviction that fresh tears well up in his eyes.

“Mm, yes, yes you do. Isn’t that great, Marvy? Isn’t it so good he finally has someone who actually loves him? Poor boy left all alone by a family who never cared about him.” As Anti speaks Chase’s face wells up with grief and he nods heavily in agreement with his master.

Marvin, for their part, is frozen in terror. Their best friend… thier Chase… Henrik’s nurse, Jack’s protagonist, Jackie’s right-hand. He seems to Marvin like a ghostly shell of the man they remember, all the translucent bits filled in with Anti. Will they be made like a ghost as well? The grief is shockingly potent and Marvin stills against the dirt, helpless. Helpless to stop as Anti floods every chemical sensor in Chase’s brain to make him love him.

Anti drops the hypnosis, and Chase drops onto his lover’s chest, seemingly dead asleep.

“If I ever hear your luring him down here again, you tricky witch, I might just decide you’re not even worth the energy. I’d string your filthy, beaten body up on Jackieboy Man’s porch before I let you undo my hard work.” Marvin is too stunned to retaliate. Satisfied with their silence, Anti scoops Chase up in his arms, and carries him to bed.

Chase sleeps soundly next to his boyfriend through midnight, moonlight pouring over his hair turning it black and golden. His mouth twitches his mustache in his sleep, mussed, but curled as always. The sunflower collar sits softly against his neck, Anti breathes gently beside him. Through foggy eyes Chase discerns that all is right with the world. What could go wrong now? Anti is always watching, always there to reset his training and conditioning as deep as he can.

“There was… no… thudding in the basement…” Chase mumbles softly as he rolls over into his lover’s chest, and dozes back to bed in his perfect world.

[mas-o-kissed]

(Hypnosis fantasy story: warning for dubious consent and themes of loss of control and obedience. Relatively sfw. Second person, gender neutral.)

Despite the prevailing belief that a powerful entity resided in its halls, the castle as you found it was crumbling and abandoned. The stories changed each time they were told; some said it was occupied by an ancient vampire. Others described the being as a human who had sold their soul in order to acquire magic power. But as you walked down the decrepit halls, feeling the cold air and hearing the echoing of your own footfalls on the cracked ground, you found no evidence that another person had walked down them in the past hundred years. That was, until you turned a corner into a small bedroom.

Though the room itself was unassuming and plain, on the nightstand was a gold jewelry box. It drew your attention immediately, for although every inch of the room was coated in a layer of dust, this box shined in the dim light streaming through the window, clean and polished, as if it had only been placed on the table a moment before. You stepped toward it, a cocktail of emotions twisting in your stomach: of curiosity, of anticipation, of fear, and of something else... something you couldn’t quite place, but which guided your feet towards the box and pulled your hand to its shining lid. You opened the box.

Atop a bundle of red satin rested a glimmering choker encrusted with jewels. Beneath it, two matching bracelets almost seemed to glow with their intricate, jeweled patterns, their beauty casting colors onto your face even in the dimness of the room. As you looked at them, your thoughts seemed to quiet. So... beautiful... was all your mind seemed to want to process. Without really noticing, your hand drifted toward one of the cuffs.

In the back of your mind, dimmed but still present, you could hear thoughts like This is strange. I should keep away from them, and I need to get out of here before it’s too late, and What am I doing? Why am I reaching for it? I can’t stop myself...

But those thoughts were all far away. They didn’t matter. You could barely hear them, for the front of your mind was filled with... a song? Yes, the jewels were singing a lovely song. Beckoning you. Willing you to just try on one of the bracelets, just to see how pretty it would look wrapped around your wrist.

So you did.

In an instant, the bracelet tightened around your wrist, trapping you in its cold, hard metal. With that came a sense of panic, and the thoughts that had been at the back of your mind broke through. You clawed at the bracelet with your free hand, trying to tear it away from your skin. You could feel pressure around the fingers on your cuffed hand, and you screamed as they began to move independent of your will. You could no longer control that hand. And it was reaching for the other cuff.

You tried to pull away, but you were only half in control of your body. You felt your fingers close around the other bracelet, and though you struggled against your own body, it forced the bracelet onto your other hand, where it locked in place.

The change was instantaneous. Your entire body went limp and you fell to your knees. You could feel the magic working through you, taking over not just your hands but your whole body. You tried to stand, tried to lift an arm, but your will over your own body was completely gone. You couldn’t even lift a finger, no matter how hard you tried. And that frightened you, because you knew what was coming next.

You felt your body rise, as though it was lifted to its feet like a puppet on strings. Your legs pulled you back to the box. The collar dazzled in its gold beauty, but you could now feel the menacing magic emanating from it. You helplessly watched as your hands lifted the collar from its box. They put the collar to your neck and locked it in place.

In that moment, the castle came to life around you. The room was illuminated by a soft, warm glow as candles lit by themselves. The dust evaporated into nothing, and the flowers that had before been dry and wilted bloomed in colorful beauty. As they did, it was as though someone had blown out the light in your own mind. You felt weak. Docile. Obedient.

It felt incredible.

You swayed slightly, eyelids drooping as you felt the last traces of your free will leave you. As it did, you felt two cold, strong hands on your shoulders, sending a shiver through your whole body. “Very good, my pet,” said a silky voice behind you, “Are you ready to serve me, as has always been your destiny?”

“Yes,” your own voice felt far away, coming from your body but not from you. The feeling was intoxicating, “I am ready to obey.”

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember 2020 Master List

Now that I have awoken from my post-Hypnovember nap, it’s time to post my 2020 Master List! in comparison to last year’s entries, a lot of stories this year delved more into either more intense kinks or more of my intense personal feelings than my stories last year did. Sometimes writing stories is a bit like reading my own tarot cards in that way- letting an ambiguous prompt roll around in my subconscious and sometimes being surprised or amused or even slightly unsettled by what it turns into. I hope you will find something in this group of works that soothes you, that turns you on, that intrigues you, and that most of all provokes a response. If you do, I’d absolutely love to hear about it. :)

Copying one of my favorite @jukeboxemcsa  ideas, I’ve also included a HypnoBS rating for every work about how realistic the hypnosis/mind control is in each work (IMHO). In this ranking, 1 means to is absolute bullshit and 5 is a normal Tuesday night (for someone).

Icons- 📰- story. 🔊- audio 💻- technology 😍- romantic 🌈- queer 😴- regular ole’ hypnosis 🛀- brainwashing and/or character in tub 👻- spooky 🐈- at least one happy pussy ❓- bad or reeeally questionable consent 👨‍🔬 -science! 🤪 -crackfic #-#sceneideas 😭-feeeels ⭐-author’s personal favorites

Day 1: Instant M/f 📰 😴🐈#😭

Choice quote: “Sean chuckled as he moved in closer. And closer. ‘I thought you wanted to know what it was like to be hypnotized, sweetheart. To follow suggestions? To have someone else take control? It’s not real control if I’m doing something you already wanted, now is it?”

HypnoBS- 5. Read the whole thing but- IMHO totally plausible.

Fun Fact- These are the same characters from last year’s Day 5: Poison.

Day 2: Coils F/m 📰 😴 💻 👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘I bet you could hypnotize me with a bar of soap if you wanted to. That still doesn’t make me like spirals.’”

HypnoBS- 5. Maybe 4 because I don’t love the induction but- maybe you will? Also- oh no poor Daniel is so conditioned that he’ll go under to anything Jamie does! How hard for him. :(

Day 3: Staged Hypnosis (Stage) F/f 📰 😴 🌈 🛀 ❓

Choice quote: “No one needed to know she was a plant. A confederate. A stooge.”

HypnoBS- 1.5. This would collapse like a house of cards. It’s a fun concept though.

Day 4: Psychic F/nb 📰 😴 🌈 😍 👨‍🔬⭐

Choice quote: “Something about the hypnosis- being in and out of each other’s heads and in and out of each other’s bodies all weekend- made her feel like she and Tris had merged in some way. Like there was a new, deeper understanding between them now- a telepathic bond.”

HypnoBS- 5. Maybe a 4.5 if you’re recognizing some nre magical thinking here. But- I’ve definitely had this feeling and this kind of experience- and I hope some of you have had it/will have it as well. :)

Day 5: Visor F/multiple 📰 😴 🛀 💻 👨‍🔬 🤪#

Choice quote: “Besides, everyone knew stormtroopers were kinky.”

HypnoBS- 4.5. Some of the exact details would need to be changed and thought through more thoroughly, but I absolutely believe you could do something like this if you wanted to. (And if you do, you definitely have to let me know. I know some of y’all out there go to Dragoncon.)

Day 6: Pendulum F/y’all 🔊😴 👨‍🔬

Choice quote: This is a trick I first learned from a science book I read in 5th grade.

HypnoBS- 5. The real thing.

Day 7: Song Aliens/the human race 📰 💻 👻❓

Choice quote: “Anna didn’t know what she was singing.”

HypnoBS- 1. I hope. Why do the song based stories always turn out so creepy?

Day 8: Performance unknown/f 📰 👻❓😴# ⭐

Choice quote: “With each snap, the gears inside her doll body click click click clicked into action. She turned, jerky but graceful. She was determined to do well. “

HypnoBS- 5 (if part of a fearplay scene, which is my headcanon for this story)

Day 9: (Hot Under the) Collar F/f 📰 😴🛀🌈 🐈#⭐

Choice quote: “She was wearing her collar. She was aroused. It was as simple as that.“

HypnoBS- 5 With time, I think you could do this. Maybe a 4.5 for the 30 minutes thing- that might lead to a bit too much cramping.

Day 10: Gentle 🔊😴

Choice quote: “Just look into the spiral....”

HypnoBS- 5. I hope.

Day 11: Summoning Sappho (Summon) eventual F/f I hope 📰 😴🌈 🤪

Choice quote: “In fact, the only ideas left to try on their brainstorming board included ‘sexy alien invasion’, ‘sexy witches’, and this. Shockingly, at this point a sexy seance seemed the most practical.”

HypnoBS-1. Although stay tuned for Femme Flirt 2021.

Day 12: Plants unknown/m 📰 😴🛀#

Choice quote: “If he focused, Chris could feel that new suggestion also growing stronger and stronger, becoming more and more firmly rooted inside of him. “

HypnoBS- 5, with the right person

Day 13: Artifact F/f 📰 😴🛀🌈 👨‍🔬 ❓

Choice quote: “She fumbled through the contents when suddenly her hand found something unexpected from her past.A red lipstick tube. An artifact.”

HypnoBS- 4? There’s different ways of reading this story, but my headcanon is that the consent here is pretty dubious.

Day 14: Tail M/f 📰 😴🛀❓👻#

Choice quote: “It was no use. She could sense her tail was still behind her. She couldn’t shake him. She should have known he’d come for her.“

HypnoBS- Let’s say 2. Although I think this could work really well for a fearplay scene in an appropriate setting (where someone wasn’t actually left unmonitored with extreme paranoia).

Day 15: Serve F/m 📰 😴#⭐

Choice quote: “He had put his heart and soul into the dish.They were hers now.”

HypnoBS- As a scene? 5 (depending on the person). As a long term effect, much lower.

Day 16: Memory F/f  📰 😴 🛀🌈 😍

Choice quote: “Mesmera waited for Galaxy Girl at the door.”

HypnoBS- 4, you could do an induction along these lines but -1 for psychic powers

Fun Fact: These characters were originally featured in last year’s Day 19: Hideout. 

Day 17: Toy F/f m/f 📰 😴 🛀🌈🐈 #

Choice quote: “Dolly hated to have Bad Manners. “

HypnoBS- 4.5. This is pretty deep into headspace, but I wouldn’t want to rule it out for the right person.

Day 18: Monster m/f 📰 😴 ❓😭⭐

Choice quote: “That kind of stuff wasn’t fair to think about here. It wasn’t everyone else’s fault that she was so warped.”

HypnoBS- 5. Ouch my heart. Poor young!Ella.

Day 19: Eyes M/m 📰 😴 🌈 😍

Choice quote: “Scott looked into his partner Brandon’s eyes. Brandon had hypnotized him so many times over the years in so many ways but- this was one of Scott’s favorites.”

HypnoBS- 5. Especially in a long term relationship like this. (In my pretend Hypnovember universe, these guys are some of the patriarchs of the hypnokinky convention scene and absolutely wonderful advice givers.)

Fun fact: The story of how these characters originally got together is in last year’s Day 12: Stage story. 

Day 20: Possession F/f  📰 😴 🌈 😍😭

Choice Quote- “Things that were hard to do for herself during these times became easier to do as something owned by Thadra. Taking a shower. Getting up and going to bed at the right time. Making sure she ran once a day. Making sure she ate.”

HypnoBS- Errr....4 trending upwards. Although for this to be safe and healthy you’d really need to be checking in with a therapist and working on your continuing mental health at the same time (IMHO). Please do not get relationship advice from my porn.

Day 21: Snaps 🔊😴👨‍🔬

Choice Quote- “No, that one was up.”

HypnoBS- 5. I’m not sure quite how this translates to audio but this is the kind of shenanigans I pull with friends all of the time.

Day 22: Restrict  F/f 📰 😴 🌈 🐈👨‍🔬 

Choice quote: “’Hmm. By ‘weird’ do you mean ‘hot’?’ asked Zahara, lounging above her on the couch. Nikki nodded. She definitely meant hot. “

HypnoBS- 2. A month is a long time and this is a strong reaction. But- maaaaaybe would work for a bit, especially within these boundaries?

Day 23:  Villain there’s a m and a f  📰 🛀👨‍🔬❓#

Choice quote: “They had been planning against that damned do-gooder reporter Lizzy Lampost for months and now they were about to finally have her in their clutches. “

HypnoBS-1. But you’re not reading this one for realism, are you?

Day 24: Drink F/f 📰 😴👨‍🔬🌈 😍

Choice quote: “’Leah,’ she said. ‘I’ve found a drinking game! This might be fun! Want to try it?’”

HypnoBs- 5. With the right person. (That part of the end might be a bit harder.)

Day 25:Worship: F/m 📰 🛀🌈 

Choice quote: “After all, it wasn’t the time to work right now. It was time to worship his Mistress’s cock.”

HypnoBS- Someone on AO3 told me this fic just wrecked them. Lucky that person- this one’s a 5. Maybe not with everyone, but an awful lot of people should be able to do an awful lot of the activities in this story. :)

Day 26: Fey M/f 📰😴 😭⭐

Choice quote: “Humans do not know the spells they weave.”

HypnoBS- 1 Only true in that metaphorical way. (So- really, really true. But not factual.)

Day 27: Recording F./m 📰 🛀❓👻#

Choice quote: “It’s a recording, he reminded himself. “She’s not there. No one is there.”

HypnoBS- 2 At least, I don’t know how to make this happen (outside of a consensual scene).

Day 28: Obsession M/F 📰 🛀😍👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “Some guys had cars. Some had computer systems. Some had home brewing. But Mark’s obsession was Julia.“

HypnoBS- Oh gosh. Errr...2.5? Hard to say. 

Fun Fact: This started as a one-sided scenario, then it changed, then it felt really hot, now it feels like a sweet silly sitcom premise. (If you want to read some episode synopses of this hypothetical sitcom, there are some brilliant ones here! Also- feel free to send me more!)

Day 29: Helpless F/m 📰😴😍

Choice quote: “’I want to be helpless,’ he replied. Juan felt his headspace changing. He threw himself into that feeling, trusting Josie to take the reins.“

HypnoBS- 5. Not a scene log, but pretty much How I Top.

Day 30: Awaken 🔊😴👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “Aaaaaand-awaken!”

HypnoBS- 5 Hypnotist BS- also a 5

Thank you all for reading these! Thank you especially to everyone who reblogged, wrote me comments, and generally supported me through this past month. I’m going to specifically single out @daja-the-hypnokitten​, @wellgnawed​, and @spiralturquoise​ for the encouragement- y’all are the best. :)  I know this is a long post, but I’d really appreciate reblogs of it!

Also, I didn’t have time to contribute myself but- if you donate to Hypnokink for Trans Lives, let me know and I’ll write you an epilogue for any of these stories that you choose. 

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 9

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: Explicit Reference to Self Harm, Explicit Duress, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Degredation, Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Male Masturbation, Handjob, Threesome (M/M/F), Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 8.3K

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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“Hold her upright, I can’t wash her stomach properly with her hunched like this.”

“I’m trying, she’s too—”

“She’s slipping!”

“Well, help me get a better grip, then!”

Warmth underneath your armpits, heating your back. There’s pressure tapping steadily on the top of your head, trailing down in front of your face and down your neck. Wet. It’s wet. It feels really good, actually. Everything is warm and soft.

“Wait, holy shit.”

“Grab her waist!”

Why are you hovering like this? You cast a glance down, feeling dizzy at the way that your vision swivels drunkenly. Legs. Those are your legs. They won’t stand upright. Ah. The tiling under your feet is pretty, though. Green. You like green.

“Jungkook!” The warm skin is hands. There are arms underneath yours, wide hands gripping your shoulders. Your body slips limply and both you and the person behind you nearly go down, saved only by thudding into the wall. You watch your feet swing in front of another pair of tanned feet. Can you exchange feet? Those ones look like they work. They’re really big. They work but you bet you’d have a hard time finding cute shoes for them.

“I think she’s waking up!”

More hands, one holding each cheek, lifting your head to meet wide, brown eyes. Dazed as you are, a smile pulls at your lips when you recognize the face waving in front of you. You know him, that’s Jungkook. You love Jungkook.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. His thumbs caress your cheeks as he bobs his head, watching the way your eyes follow him with excitement. “Hey. Thank god. You’re okay…”

“Sleepy,” you correct him, slurring.

“W-what?”

“What did she say?” That must be Taehyung, his deep voice rumbling through your back in a way very familiar.

“You’re sleepy?”

You hum.

“O-okay, that’s okay—”

“Is she alright?”

“I don’t know. I need you to wake up for us. Can you do that? Wake up.”

“She doesn’t sound alright.”

You consider the command. You can feel his words rolling over your skin—but they pass right over you just as surely as the water. They don’t sink in, don’t flood your sight or curl through your body like they usually do. Water. Ah. That’s water. It feels really nice.

You hum again. Water, water, tiles, tiles. Are you naked? Yes. You are. Then it must be a shower. You’re having a shower. You like having a shower. You’re really dizzy and it’s hard to focus your eyes. The world spins headily. Not so much a fan of that part.

“No, no, no, hey, stay with us—!” Jungkook pats your face, squishes your cheeks, but your eyelids are drooping of their own accord, painting him in the shadows of your eyelashes and blurring his colors and outlines together.

“She’s going out again? Let me try—”

“I—it didn’t work at all, it’s not working anymore—“

“She’s going limp!”

You certainly are. Your motor control, what little of it you had to begin with, is giving up. Your vision doesn’t seem to want to stay put. Your head lolls. The edges of your sight darken and furl inwards.

“Jimin! Jimin, get—”

 “Wake up.”

Your eyelids fly open. Your gaze blurs as you struggle to comprehend what you’re seeing, struggle to focus on the person staring intently at you. You feel a hand at your hairline, pushing your hair back from your face gently, and you purr in the wake of the contentment that washes over you. You aren’t in the shower anymore, but somewhere else familiar. More importantly, there is another man leaning over you and taking up most of your vision. Affection makes your heart swell when you realize who it is.

“Jin,” you croak through the smile beginning to form on your face. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he replies. His returned grin is small, but it’s there, and it fills your chest with warm butterflies. He looks tired again. He’s certainly not too pleased with something. Multiple somethings. You hope it isn’t you.

“I missed you,” you add.

He snorts. “Did you…?”

“I said it would work if it was Jin.” That’s Jimin. You can’t see him, but his voice is coming from somewhere to your right.

“You didn’t know for sure.” Taehyung points out. He’s over there, too, somewhere.

“She’s going to be okay now, right?” Jungkook. The gang’s all here, then. You cast a glance past Jin’s midnight-colored head, searching for cherry boy’s signature mop—but he’s out of your range. You can see the ceiling painting, though. And it’s soft beneath you. You must be back on the bed. Arousal sparks in your belly. On the bed, in the middle of all these wonderful men. You know how this goes.

“Just because I can haze her to wake up doesn’t mean she’s okay.” Jin replies. There’s annoyance in his tone. Something dark, warning. It fills the room with a kind of electricity. “How are you feeling?”

You watch him with wide eyes. The way he meets your gaze steadily tells you he’s waiting for you to answer. Oh. The question was for you. How are you feeling?

Your throat is sore. Your cunt feels a little used, but it’s not necessarily a bad feeling. The hurt at your neck is better, but you suspect that’s mostly because there’s a deep, pulsating throb at your breast that aches with pain and pleasure every time you inhale or exhale. Comparatively, your neck isn’t even on your list of priorities anymore.

Jin’s still waiting for you and with every second you take to contemplate his question, he gets more and more concerned, his eyebrows pulling together and his smile disappearing.

“I’m okay,” you settle on finally, cheerily. “Tired.”

“Listen to the way she’s slurring,” another voice puts in with a low whistle. “You three really fucked her up, huh?”

Your neck cranes and you cast your view around, looking in shock for the fourth member of the neat little party you’re currently having. There, by the doorway. It’s…Hoseok. That’s his name. He’s standing casually, hands in the pockets of his expensive-looking jacket. He meets your eyeline and grins widely, crookedly. His smile is all teeth, and it does something funny to your insides to watch him bare them.

“It was my fault—“ Jimin starts quickly, but Jungkook interrupts.

“It was my fault. I went too far.”

“You keep saying that.” Hoseok points out.

“Because it’s true.”

 Deft hands slip chilly fingers into your collar—you’re wearing Namjoon’s hoodie again, you realize—and tug down to reveal the skin on your chest. Your breath catches in excitement, but Jin only frowns at the crimson marks left there.

“We didn’t take more than a mouthful each,” Taehyung insists suddenly, shifting. You catch a glimpse of his golden hair. It’s shiny. Wet. “And she was almost healed from when you fed anyways.”

Jin brushes a thumb over the bright wound, and you gasp. Electricity skitters from the point of contact, linking to your neck, travelling to alight your cunt. You writhe faintly, thighs rubbing together. It seems like Namjoon’s hoodie is the only thing you’re wearing at present. You make the mistake of meeting Jin’s glance as you make this realization. His tongue flits out nervously, eyes burning through yours as if he could pull you apart here, now, and swallow down the remains.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” he hums. His lips barely move.

“I don’t think it’s not the problem,” Hoseok interjects in a half-amused, half-dangerous tone.

“It’s a problem. But…I’ve never seen this happen to someone. Never heard of someone passing out like that. Refusing to wake up. Not for this long at a time.”

“So…?”

“So maybe…maybe she’s been hazed too much?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Since when does hazing cause brain damage?”

“Did I say brain damage? Watch her when I touch the marks.”

This time, when he presses his thumb against the bite, a thrill crashes through your spine, flooding your limbs, and you audibly whine. You shift, and you don’t miss the way his resolve briefly wavers, how he watches your legs curl again, watches your chest rise and fall with a sharp inhale. Pleasure, low and deep, curls about your frame, fizzling out into your limbs and leaving you wanting.  

“Okay, she’s a freak. I’ve seen chicks who were into weirder shit before.”

“That doesn’t seem like her.”

“Please don’t tell me you think you know her like a lover now,” Hoseok snaps back, but the amusement is fading from his eyes. He watches the back of Jin’s head with an expression like disbelief and concern. “What, are you two best friends now, since you fucked her like a whore and drank her like a meal?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Jungkook bites, and when he takes an impulsive step forward, he moves into your field of view. He looks legitimately angry, his handsome profile angled in a way that puts his body between you and the other vampire. His hair isn’t dry yet either, and it sticks to the sharp edges of his jawline, his cheekbones.

“You’ve called her worse.” His elder doesn’t move from his position against the doorway, but the way his eyes flit to meet him, sizes him up briefly, begs him to take another step. Promises him he’ll regret it. You shiver, reaching instinctively for Jin’s arm. He covers your hand with his, warm, rubbing a thumb across your knuckles, and it’s a comfort you readily sink into.

 But Jimin interrupts, and as he moves to situate himself between the others, you can see him, too. He’s wearing his sweater again, and it’s returned him back to his sweet side. Huggable, soft—miles away from the man that demanded you choke on another’s cock. That pinned you to his elder’s bed and fucked you while his brother slid into your throat.

“She likes that sort of thing in the moment,” he confirms quietly. “But she’s really easy to get attached to when we haven’t had anything else in so long.”

Hoseok looks to him, and a kind of fondness crosses his expression for a split second. He nods, assenting, looking away. “Yeah. Alright. I get that.” When he meets Jungkook’s eye again, the tension that had been building dissolves—not completely gone, but ramped down significantly. “Sorry. I know you’ve had it rough lately.”

Jungkook nods, once, sharp. The angle of his shoulders doesn’t change.

“Its dangerous to get too attached, though.” Hoseok continues. “We’re not in the market for a pet. Just a temporary fix for a bad situation.”

“You aren’t telling me how to manage my coven.” Jin murmurs. It’s almost a question. He’s watching you, but he isn’t really looking at you. He’s musing on something deep, something hidden. You imitate his soothing rubbing, squeezing at his arm faintly. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could haze him? If you could bring him down here, with you, where it’s warm and safe and everything’s okay? You blink. Your eyes are feeling heavy again, but it’s a nice thought. He’s always so worried, so tired. You’re threatening to fade out at the corners.

“You’re right. I’m not.”

Jin doesn’t seem convinced. “…I don’t know that she’ll be alright to move right now in any case.”

“She obviously can’t stay here.”

“Mistakes were made—”

“Clearly.”

The dark-haired man in front of you finally rears up at the blatant tone in Hoseok’s voice. Still holding your hand, he turns, eyes flashing. “Watch it.”

“Your circus,” the other returns bluntly, unblinking. “Your monkeys. This was your problem from the start, Jin. Always has been.”

“You do not tell me how to manage my own coven, Hoseok.”

 The two lock gazes, bristling. The younger vampires, in the corners of your sight, sway uncertainly. Jungkook’s jaw clenches, and you can see the muscles flex underneath his skin from here. Jimin casts a brief look towards you, licking his lips. He moves to take another intervening step, opens his mouth to try and diffuse the situation further, but Hoseok beats him to it, striding towards you and taking your free wrist in his hand. Jin’s hand slips from yours, but you maintain your grip on him as you’re pulled up from the bed, onto unsteady feet and into Hoseok’s chest. You get a gentle waft of whatever body wash he uses—vanilla-scented—as you stumble faintly and he catches you.

“I’m not telling you how to manage your coven,” he replies steadily, above you, his voice vibrating smoothly against your cheek. “But I am saying this isn’t the first time you refused to put your foot down.”

“You’re going to have to carry her out of here.” Jin’s response is hushed, but you can hear the danger lurking underneath the softness of his tone. You the fingers at your hand again, peeling you off his shirt sleeve. You wish you weren’t so disappointed to leave him. Another wash of tiredness floods over you and you sway, but Hoseok has you supported, holds you closer. “She can’t walk.”

“It won’t be the last time, either, until you do something about them.”

The body in front of you shifts, bending, his head dipping to your neck. Excitement again roils through your frame, automatically linking your arms around his shoulders, but he’s catching the backs of your knees, tucking your neck into the crook of his elbow, and suddenly he’s lifting you up off the ground into a bridal carry. He jostles you a little more comfortably, ignoring the way you stare at him, wide-eyed.

His features are so sharp, so delicate, the color of his skin so warm and inviting. His hair looks soft, dark and deftly styled. But there’s something else, deep inside of you, that sparks as you watch him. Like a light switch activated from a mile away. The way his mouth moves when he talks, his profile.

Jin continues to ignore him. “I tried to keep her fed, but obviously I was called out before I could make sure she had anything to eat, so she’ll probably be hungry once the haze wears off.”

“We’ll take care of her. Don’t worry about it.”

A warm palm to your cheek, encouraging your head to turn, to meet Jin’s eye.

“They’ll take care of you.” he repeats. “So you’ll behave yourself, right?”

You blink at him, distracted by the train of thought concerning Hoseok more than anything. Finally, you nod. He smoothes his thumb over your skin. He smiles, but it’s empty. Your heart sinks at the same time as another wash of sleepiness sweeps over you. Your blink takes too long, and you know he notices. You wish this didn’t feel like goodbye. The lingering warmth, comfort, from his haze, flickers like a flame and evaporates a little more, leaving you impossibly tired, weary.

“We’ll miss you,” you hear Taheyung murmur.

“Thank you,” Jimin adds, quiet.

 Hoseok moves to walk out the door with you, his strides smooth and purposeful. Jin’s hand lingers on your face, but hesitantly begins to slip away. You watch the man above you, trying again to grasp at the vague memories that light up the depths of your mind, even as you sink further into velvety darkness.

“Tell Namjoon this makes us even.” Jin says.

“I’ll tell him, but you know it doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t get to judge me. Neither do you. I’m still your elder.”

Hoseok pauses in the doorway, cranes his head over his shoulder.

“This wouldn’t have happened back then. Namjoon wouldn’t have let it happen.”

You hear the shuffle of feet, as someone rushing forward suddenly, but it’s put to an abrupt halt. Hoseok’s face doesn’t change, still looking calmly behind him.

“Get out of my house, Hoseok.” When Jin’s voice comes again, it’s so much deeper, so much darker than you’ve ever heard it.

Hoseok smirks humorlessly and finally glances down at you. You waver, your sight darkening. Your hold around his neck is loosening despite your best efforts as you search his eyes, chasing that spark of familiarity.

“Let’s go home, pretty girl.”

You hum. He starts moving again, out the door, back down the hall, cradling you easily. Your neck lolls and you crane back to look into the room you’re leaving. Jungkook, standing next to Jin, Taehyung and Jimin behind them, still circled around the bed. All of them meet your eyes at once. Jin has one arm extended in front of Jungkook, who looks like he’s ready to fight, muscles tense and coiled, soft mouth curved into a frown. None of them look happy to see you go. None of them say anything as you keep moving, until the doorway swivels them out of sight and you start going down the stairs.

“Pretty girl.” You repeat to yourself. Hoseok doesn’t pay you any mind. You blink. The feeling fading from your limbs dissipates. Your eyes don’t reopen and instead you sink, body heavy, into an inky void.

It isn’t sleep that claims you, but something deeper. You let it have you for a time. The soft caress of nothingness that holds you tenderly. It’s nice. Until it breaks, like waves upon a shore made of neon.

 Sweat, bodies bumping into you, the lingering taste of alcohol, universe spinning, bass thumping along with your heart. Your world is strobe lights and heavy air.

He’s watching you. You know he is. On the next beat, you make sure your hips swivel even harder, even more smoothly, your eyes half-lidded, bottom lip caught between your teeth. What would you do if he was up here with you, what thoughtless choices would you make? You need him to see what you’d do for him, what you’ll do if he keeps looking at you like that.

The music is so loud, it swallows up nearly everything, the whoops, the calling, the laughter from the drunk patrons. None of them have clearly defined faces. Their features melt and blend, sometimes too sharp and sometimes blurred entirely, but that’s okay. You’re not here for them. You’re here…you’re here for…

Your heart twists and you banish the pain that comes with that train of thought. You just need to dance. That’s it. You just need to dance.

As you turn, you hazard a brazen glance back to the bar. Back to the man watching your every move. Legs spread as he lounges on a barstool like he’s part of the scenery. He definitely appreciated that last swing, his mouth stretching into a dangerous grin. His tongue slips out to lick his teeth coyly, eyes dark. The man sitting next to him also casts a glance your way, a smirk pulling at his plush lips. Could you snag both of them? A thrill coasts through you as you consider the possibilities. He’s not the first one you’ve caught watching you. There’s a lot of handsome men out tonight. Where has the blonde disappeared off to? You can’t see him in the crowd. Not that it matters too much. Hands slide onto your waist, encouraging you into a feverish grind against firm hips, and you allow it, encourage it, make a scene out of it. You could take both of the two at the bar home, could take them anywhere, judging from their stares.

“You live around here?” A deep voice asks. It’s quiet, but it breaks through the noise easily, parts it like a stone in a brook.

“No.”

A hand leaves your waist to brush hair from your shoulder, lips nuzzle closer into the space underneath your jaw, murmuring against your neck.

“You come here often?”

“Never been here before.”

You’re responding easily enough, but you’re distracted by the men at the bar. The one you’ve focused on raises his eyebrows, cranes his head to his friend. You won’t pretend you catch everything he says. But you see him mouthing pretty girl.

…Hoseok? It’s Hoseok. Your stomach plummets, your universe tilts violently. Next to him, Namjoon makes an amused face, gesturing as he responds, but you lose everything he says.

You blink. Where are you? What are you doing? Why do you know this so well?

The deep-voiced stranger behind you chuckles, spins you around and suddenly you’re facing him. Blonde hair, purple eyes, killer grin.

“Came out all the way here just to dance? Or maybe just to stare at people?” he hums, tucking a finger under your jaw, still swaying with you to the music. His eyes are so intently focused on you, you can feel them burning underneath your skin. “Why?”

“That’s for me to know,” you purr, “And you to find out. If you wanted.”

You giggle flirtatiously, watching the strobe lights glance off his smirk, light up his hair. Why are you back here? What’s going on? Is this—is this a memory? Panic rises inside of you, curls, and even as you try to anchor yourself, try to calm down and keep a handle on everything, the memory flickers around you. The walls pulse, the music distorts. The patrons surrounding you on all sides flit in and out of existence, blurred, fading. Taehyungs head dips to your neck again, catching the flesh between his teeth with a brief nip. It hurts. It hurts, he’s broken skin, and you struggle backwards, except it doesn’t, and you don’t. You sigh, leaning into the teasing kiss he plants there.  

“You don’t know the half of what I want,” he rumbles, thick.

You laugh again, and it echoes. The space is empty. The music is deafening. You can’t think, it’s so loud.

 “Jin thinks she’s been hazed too much.”

Taehyung disappears from your grasp. You’re alone. And yet, there’s someone talking, pausing. You’re annoyed at it. Deeply.

“That’s what I said—the kids swear they didn’t take enough to cause any problems.”

The music stutters and halts, turning into some rap track. It’s much quieter, but you can still feel the bass. Your eyelids flutter and your nose scrunches as you slowly come back to reality. There’s cushion underneath you and the ambient sounds of gravel crunching all around, the whirr of an engine. And your head is splitting in half.

“Honestly, that’s gonna have to be up to you. I don’t know.”

You sit up with a quiet groan, pressing your palms to your eyes with a huff of pain. God, you have got the killer-est of migraines right now. Thank fuck it’s dark outside, but the flashes of streetlights are going to send you straight to your grave.

“Haha, I’ll take that bet. We’ll have to see.”

You peel your eyelids open with some effort, moving your hands to press to your temples, squinting blearily at your surroundings. You’re in the backseat of a car. Hoseok is driving, phone in one hand, other hand carelessly laid against the steering wheel. If he’s noticed that you’re up, he doesn’t show it. You almost gripe about him not paying enough attention to the road, but casting a glance out of the window tells you it’s probably either early as balls or late as hell. No one else is on the roads. You look at the dashboard. 2:30 AM. Figures.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Definitely. It should be worn off completely by then anyways.”

You glare disparagingly at the vampire in the front seat, frowning. God, does he have to talk so loudly? You shift again. Your body feels like if a garbage dump was a person. Your neck hurts, your chest hurts—sharp and painful. Your throat and all of your limbs are sore. You grunt as you scoot backwards in the seat. The downstairs is not too thrilled at the moment, either. You’ve really taken a beating.

“Sounds like a good idea to me. Yeah. No.” Hoseok chuckles. As you look up, you accidentally lock eyes with him through the rearview mirror. “No, I don’t think that’s too much. She can take it.”

A shiver runs through you, and he definitely catches on, his smirk growing.

“Yeah. We’ll meet you there.” He clicks the phone off and sets it down on the passenger’s seat before looking back up, briefly craning over the seat to flash a grin your way.

 “Hello, hello, sleepyhead.”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you huff, hoarse. “Maniac.”

“Aw, what’s the matter? Someone’s grumpy. You were all over me a little while ago.”

“Yeah, when I was brainwashed,” you snap back, crossing your arms and turning to face the window. “And now I have a raging headache.”

“Interesting choice of words. Raging.” His tongue slips over the word too smoothly and you hate him for it.

“Don’t you fucking think about it. Closed for business.”

“That’s new. Sounds to me like you were all sorts of open.”

“I—” Memories, fragments of them, flash in your mind, and your throat goes dry. Hands all over you, hushed whispers, murmurs; being used up and drained dry like a toy. You push it all down aggressively. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

Hoseok laughs at that. “Right. Right. You were hazed.”

The way he says it, like it’s a flimsy excuse, has you balking, craning to pull a disbelieving face at him.

“Yeah! I was!”

He only chuckles. “How are you feeling?”

“You already asked me that.”

“Jin asked,” he corrects, careless, “And I’m asking again. Now that you’re ‘in your right mind’.”

“Everything hurts.”

“Everything?” You can hear the raise in his eyebrows. You elect to ignore it.

“I’ve got a headache.”

“You mentioned. Bad?”

“Bad enough I’m already sick of whatever you’ve got playing on the radio.”

“Don’t insult my musical tastes just because you made bad decisions this morning.”

You shift again, frowning out the window. “They weren’t my decisions.”

“Uh-huh.”

 It’s quiet between the two of you for a second, you delving into a surly silence and him seemingly content with leaving you to marinate in it. You spot a neon sign saying something about waffles lighting up a sparsely populated parking lot and to your surprise, he starts to pull into it.

“Hungry?” you ask, incredulous. What are they even doing open at this time…? You’ve heard of 24/hr breakfast diners—but as far as you know, there’s never been one by where you lived.

Wait. Where you live?

“A little bit.”

The car jerks as he pulls up and puts it into park, unbuckling his seat belt.

Where do you live?...

God, it was almost there. It was almost there. You don’t even notice that he’s gotten out until the door you were leaning against opens and almost dumps you out onto the pavement.

“Not as much as Yoongi, though.” He’s still talking. You shuffle upwards, frowning at your surroundings as you dismount, trying not to wince as literally all of you complains in a chorus of aches. “Which is lucky for you.”

“Lucky me,” you echo sardonically, avoiding the hand he reaches out to help you to the door. You’ll stumble, thanks.

“It is.”

He takes your arm anyways, tugging you in close to himself, looking you over when you shoot a glare up at him.

“He probably would have pulled over on the side of the road if you were moaning in your sleep in his backseat.”

You freeze, mortified, meeting his eyes. Not a hint of a lie in his chocolatey depths. “…I wasn’t.”

“Oh, you were.” He pats your arm with his free hand, mouth stretching into a dopey grin, mockingly consoling. “Yeah.”

“No.”

“Like a pornstar. A lesser man wouldn’t have made it all this way.”

You roll your eyes, but let him lead you through the doors, cringing at the too-bright sound of the bell hung above them. As you could have guessed from the lack of cars outside, it’s not exactly crowded in here. One or two people, a group of clearly intoxicated youngsters—and a familiar face, seated at a booth tucked into the divider that splits the restaurant in two. Namjoon smiles at you, raising an arm to usher you over. Across from him, back towards you, you can see black hair. That must be Yoongi. He doesn’t turn around.

“That being said, if it’s my name you’re calling next time,” Hoseok’s voice has dropped into a low growl, lips barely moving as you both walk closer to the table. You can feel his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll be sure to give you something to moan about.”

Treacherous arousal skirts down your spine and straight to your crotch and you wince at the brief ache, refusing to look at him.

“Glad you could make it,” Namjoon says, eyes squishing upwards as his grin widens congenially. If he notices your mild discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Yoongi looks up as you come around the side, looking first to you, then Hoseok, then back to you. He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, nodding as a form of greeting. The circles under his eyes have gotten darker, and his hair looks almost ragged, unbrushed, hanging into his face. When he scoots inwards to allow you a seat, you can see his hand shaking for just a second. He looks sickly. The lights in here are too harsh, they hurt your eyes, make the thudding in your head all that much worse.

“It’s not like there’s traffic,” Hoseok snipes, but it’s comfortable, familiar. You shoot him a surprised look when he goes to sit next to you, encouraging you to shift closer to Yoongi, instead of joining Namjoon on the other side, but he only raises his eyebrows and makes shooing motions with his hand. You do what you can, but Yoongi doesn’t seem interested in moving and you end up thigh to thigh with him, smelling his gentle cologne, pressed to his forearm. Hoseok sprawls obnoxiously on the end of the seat, slinging an arm around the back and casting a pleased look about the table.

 “Sounds like you’ve had an exciting morning,” Namjoon begins.

You hum noncommittally, trying to focus on monitoring your breathing. You know Yoongi can hear your heartbeat, know he can smell only god knows what on you. It’s then that you realize Namjoon’s got a milkshake in front of him, bright pink and chock full of strawberries, and there’s a basket of fries sitting next to the drinks menu on the end of the table. Forget what Yoongi can smell, because you catch a whiff of them and your stomach coils painfully, an embarrassing growl sounding in your gut. They smell perfect. Delicious. Your mouth waters.

“Oh!” Namjoon blinks, pushing them towards you. “Yeah, here, we got these for you. Jin said you’d probably be hungry.”

Despite the eager expression on his face, you hesitate.

“…Are you sure? You don’t want any?” you ask quietly.

“Not hungry for fries.” Yoongi mumbles, hoarse. You aren’t going to look at him.

“That’s really cute, actually,” Hoseok scoffs with a smile, shaking his head. “’You don’t want any’.”

“All for you, baby. Go ahead.”

On the one hand, you wish you could say you were patient and diligent with this unconventional gift. But in reality, you nearly grabbed a handful of fried potato goodness and stuffed it down your maw with all the ferocity of a half-starved bear. You eat like it’s going out of style, reveling in the overly greasy saltiness of the fries and the sweetness of the shake, and when it’s finally over, basket empty, glass drained, you sink back into your seat with a heavy, contented sigh. The lights are still blaring but the dull ache in your head is at least helped with some food.

“Better?” It’s with an embarrassed feeling that you realize everyone at the table has been watching you eat intently, but the smile on Namjoon’s face is nothing but deeply pleased.

“…Yes. Thank you.” You finally mumble, quiet.

“Anytime.”

“You really were hungry, huh?”

“For something besides cock.” Yoongi pipes in again, under his breath, and this time, it catches you by enough surprise that you flit over to meet his stare. “It sounds like you’ve had more than your fill of that lately, hm?” he clarifies, low. You flush. His tongue flits out to drag across his lips, studying the way you turn away quickly.

You look instead to Namjoon, hoping he’ll chastise his comrade or at least turn the conversation to something else, but his eyes have darkened, his smile unwavering.

“That’s okay,” he says, tone dipping into deceptively calm waters. “It’s hard to resist Jin’s boys. Even after you’ve been told to stay away.”

“I—”your voice catches in your throat. “I was hazed.”

“Yeah?” He blinks, still smirking. His head cocks.

You cast a disbelieving glance around the table. Hoseok only offers you a raise of his eyebrows and Yoongi’s eyes are busy trailing up your body at a snail’s pace. He’s not listening to your words. You have got to stop looking at him—everytime you do, a shiver crawls down your spine and you have to resist the urge to shift your thighs away from him. You turn back to Namjoon.

“So I had no control over any of it!” you clarify, lowering your voice when a waitress passes by. “It’s not like I could just break out of it. I didn’t have any say in what happened.”

Namjoon chuckles, craning forwards to rest his elbows on the table. He takes a breath like he’s explaining simple concepts to a child, watching some indeterminate point in space to his left. “Like mind control. Is that what you think haze is?”

“…obviously?”

His eyes flit to meet yours again and your stomach goes into free fall. “If we could control every human being like that, twist them in ways they didn’t want, command what we need from them, why are we starving?”

Now that gives you pause. You think of Jungkook. Of Yoongi. You can’t say you’ve thought about it—not that you’ve had time to. It doesn’t make sense, you guess, but…?

“I—I don’t…”

“Take a steak knife from the silverware holder.” Namjoon’s haze is light, almost sweet, but it swirls about your skin just the same, fills your lungs with stardust. Immediately, you reach for a knife, curling your fingers around the handle. You aren’t sure what you’re doing with it, but you’ve got it now. Everything is as it should be. You immediately relax.

“Put your other hand on the table, palm up.”

It’s already done. You blink, looking down at your hand, faintly mesmerized by the way the overhead light plays off the lines in your skin. Something, something sour, curls in your belly. Vaguely, you’re aware of the soft snicker to your right. Yoongi. What is he laughing for?

“Raise the knife a little higher.”

Why is your stomach coiling? You’ve broken out into a cold sweat. Your hands are starting to tremble. There’s something wrong. Something wrong?

“Hold it over your palm.”

“P-please.” You stammer. What for? What is this feeling? There’s panic building inside you so intense your legs are restless, your chest is beginning to rise and fall rapidly with harshening breaths. It’s not you speaking, but it’s your voice that leaves your lips, frantic. “Please, Namjoon, please, don’t—”

Your hand tingles, your fingers twitch.

“When I say ‘now’,” he’s still talking, evenly, smoothly, “Bring the knife down. Hard. Push it through the table. Understand?”

You’re shaking so hard it’s visible, tears building up in your eyes and coursing down your cheeks when you blink, confused. Your breathing is shuddery now, on the verge of sobs and there is screaming in your head again.

“Of cour-of cour—ple-please, Nam—of course,” your teeth are chattering.

“Ready?”

You take a huge gulp of air, vision spinning, chest heaving; what is going on with you? Maybe you’ll be okay once he says the word. Once you do as he says. A hand curls around your wrist, pinning your hand to the table more firmly, even as it convulses, twitches. Hoseok. He’s helping you. That’s nice. But you’re still crying. Another hand, hesitant, slipping across your thigh. Dangerous, feather light. Yoongi.

“Ready?” he echoes, rasping into your ear.

You nod. Except you don’t. Your head is shaking fervently ‘no’. A whimper escapes your throat and you almost vibrate right out of your seat.

“Now.”

 You scream. You’re sobbing. Shaking, every muscle in your body drawn painfully tight, legs seizing. You can’t see, you’re crying so hard, and you can feel the drops on your arm, dripping down your chin. Your teeth are clenched to the point that you’re not far from breaking them, head bowed, shoulders taut.

A second, two, pass.

Oxygen rushes through your lungs when you finally let go of the breath you were holding, sucking in air with gasping sobs that wrack your entire frame. Forcefully, you open your right hand, the handle of the knife sliding from your grasp and falling to the table with a clatter that sounds too loud, too deafening, even in competition with the sound of your weeping. You curl forward, pulling your free arm into your chest, still shuddering violently.

“Do you get it?” Namjoon murmurs.

Your mind whirls, skin prickling, shivering.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“You fucker,” you spit, suddenly filled with white-hot rage. You jump to stand, but Yoongi’s hand on your thigh and Hoseok’s hand on your wrist both flex with inhuman strength, forcing you back down. You shoot daggers at Namjoon through the tears, teeth bared.

“You didn’t do it,” he answers himself, scooting forward again. “Because I can’t make you do it.”

“You almost made me stab myself?!” your voice rises in pitch, angry. “To prove a point?!”

“You can’t keep hiding behind haze. We’re gonna break you out of that habit now.” He returns, even. His hand comes too fast towards you and he grips your chin, pursing your lips. His grin is feral this time. You flinch to raise your other arm towards him, unsure if you’re going to push him away or punch him, but Yoongi catches it with his free hand, pulling it back to your side. You’re rendered completely immobile.

“One, it can’t put you in direct danger. And two, when it clashes with something you really don’t want to do? It breaks.” Namjoon licks his lips and snarls through a smirk, nose scrunching, eyes unblinking as they bore through yours. He relinquishes your face, sitting back in the booth, but the two on either side of you don’t let go of your wrists.

Namjoon relaxes, his face smoothing back into something less threatening, brows flitting upwards.

“So,” he continues, low. “When you’re a slut, baby, you have to understand that it’s because you’re a slut. Nothing we could do to you would change that.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out through your teeth.

“Only if you begged nicely.”

“Are we talking fucking now?” Yoongi pipes up, his voice heavy. He sounds weirdly…restless. Excited. “Fuck, that was so hot.”

“I know, right?” Hoseok agrees in a mumble. You feel Yoongi lean in and you twitch to move away, but you’re trapped between the two men, their grips on your wrists tightening and Yoongi’s other hand stroking, petting, against your thigh.

A huff of surprise leaves you when you feel his breath on your cheek, then something hot and slimy. You struggle, but he drags his tongue up your cheek, tasting your tears.

“So scared,” he hums, smacking.

“You don’t really think we’d hurt you, do you?” Hoseok adds. You glance at him, feeling your gut churn at the way his eyes are blown wide, the impatient way he licks his lips. “You don’t really think we’d put a hole in your pretty little hand?”

Yoongi groans, scooting closer. “God, but what would it be like to jack off with it?” he growls. His hand becomes more bold, circling further up your leg, and the teasing brushes send shivers through your body. The adrenaline from your fear hasn’t worn off yet, leaving you skittish and wired—but Yoongi and Hoseok panting into your ears, Yoongi’s long fingers drifting further and further to your bare cunt, separated only by the hoodie…His thumb drags through the fabric and meets your clit on the way, and you jolt, breath catching.

“A weird thought, but okay.” Hoseok scoffs. He shifts to be closer, so that you’re now sandwiched between them, half-bare legs pressed to theirs, wrists caught in their grip.

“I’m so hungry,” Yoongi says in a conspiratorial whisper, catching your earlobe between his teeth. “I could drain you right from your cunt and fuck the corpse.”

His hand works your clit underneath the table, too desperate to be steady, too feverish to give you a rhythm, but still it builds arousal in your belly, begins to soak through the hem of the hoodie.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” he muses, feeling for the wetness gathering with his fingertips. You flush, embarrassed, angry, and open your mouth to argue, to demand he stop, but you falter when he leans towards the marks on your neck.

“Well, now we’ve got that out of the way,” Namjoon continues suddenly. Yoongi inhales deeply at your skin like Jungkook had, tongue slipping out to press kitten licks against the bites. The arousal that slams through you, that travels straight from top to bottom, sends your legs into spasm, humping once at the hand still sloppily rubbing at your core. You gasp, sucking in a breath.

“I wanted to talk house rules.”

Hoseok tugs at your hand, and your palm meets something hard and hot. Looking in shock, you can see his cock, yanked out of his boxers, through his unzipped jeans, within clear view of anyone who might walk past if not for the meager modesty of the table. He curls your fingers around him and you make the mistake of then glancing up to meet his eyes. His eyebrow flits upwards, grinning widely, his tongue passing over his teeth.

“Pay attention when someone’s talking,” he chastises, thick.

Yoongi laps at your wounds again and you can’t help but make a fist, stroking Hoseok once. He fucks into your hand smoothly, lithely, hips rippling like they were made of water, eyes never leaving yours.

“You haven’t shown up as a missing person yet, so if you want to go outside, I don’t mind—just take one of us with you. For safety.”

You yelp when Yoongi bites down, hard, and you almost wish it didn’t send such a strong pulse of want through you, didn’t make your back arch, toes curl.

“If you’re hungry or tired, y’know, just tell one of us. The blood situation out here is really bad; we do genuinely want to take care of you. No one wants you hurt.”

“Except you,” Hoseok chides, still staring at you. “You seem fine with it.”

“My kind of girl,” Yoongi growls, catching your skin again and you whimper, gyrating against him.

“I really want you to get well. Honest. If we can just use you temporarily, just until everyone isn’t starving, I promise we’ll let you go after. You have my word.”

You look to Namjoon. He’s still talking as though you’re in any state to answer him, still so genuine. The only indication he gives that he’s aware of what’s going on is when Yoongi tears himself away from you with a grunt.

“Namjoon.” He says, heavy. It’s almost a plea.

“Go ahead.” Is his answer.

 Namjoon leans forward again, tucks his chin into his thumbs, watches you steadily past his entwined fingers, as Yoongi relinquishes your hand, turns, and kicks his legs out, suddenly sliding beneath the table. You don’t have time to process what’s happening before you feel slender hands returning to your thighs, shoving your knees apart. Strands of hair dance teasingly over your legs, the hoodie thrust up and out of the way. Teeth nip at your inner thighs, soothe the brief pinpricks with saccharine kisses, travelling up to your core. You shudder, chest heaving, trying to scoot away in anticipation. Your free hand dashes beneath the table, intending to push him away, but Hoseok is quicker. He snatches your wrist away just as Yoongi finally makes contact with your pussy, pressing a lingering kiss against your center. You keen, attempting to cut off the loudest of it, hands curling.

They aren’t doing this in the middle of a restaurant. But the slow blink Namjoon serves you as Yoongi slurps headily at your clit, as Hoseok fucks your palm, tells you a different story.

 It’s mortifying, how quickly your orgasm builds, even as you struggle and jerk limply against Hoseok’s hold on your arms, Yoongi’s grip on your thighs.

“You still haven’t told me that you don’t want this,” Namjoon points out.

“Because she does, right? God, she loves it. Center of fucking attention,” Hoseok pants, chuckles into your ear when you flinch, biting back another moan.

“It could stop if you did. If you told me to stop. I’d tell them to stop. We leave you here. We go home. Easy.”

Yoongi groans against you, licking a long stripe through your wetness, sucks a swollen lip into his mouth and nibbles it. You’re gasping, humming, shivering and rolling, the wire inside you pulling dangerously taut. But still you bite your lip, defiant. You don’t meet Namjoon’s eye, staring blankly at the table as your high mounts.

“But let me fucking clear. You answer to me from now on. You don’t fuck anyone unless I say so. You don’t let anyone feed from you unless I say so.”

Yoongi’s slender fingers press experimentally against your cunt, swirling with his tongue, and you almost seize when he finally slides one, another, into your heat, fucking with all the same desperation as he licks and sucks.

Hoseok releases the hand not around his cock and it flies to Yoongi’s hair, curling around the strands. The garbled oath he utters when you tug lightly encourages another gush of arousal from you, which he diligently suckles up. You feel fingers on your chin again, forcing your head up, and finally you’re made to look Namjoon in the face. He hasn’t moved, and you can’t see his mouth, but his eyes are bottomless, hungry.

“You don’t cum until he says so, either, pretty girl,” Hoseok coos, flexing his hand around your chin. “Get it?”

There’s no way you can hold it off, you’re already climbing, but the subtle threat in Namjoon’s gaze has you trying to pull back, trying to deny the rush crawling up through your toes, your legs.

“P-please,” you plead, finally, hushed.

“Tell me what you are. Are you brainwashed?” He returns affably.

Yoongi is attacking your clit like a man possessed, sucking, rolling with his tongue, scissoring his fingers, Hoseok still panting and murmuring expletives through his teeth. You shiver, but shake your head.

“N-no.”

“No what?”

“No s-sir?” you try again, desperate.

“Better. What are you, baby? Tell me.”

Your eyes are threatening to roll back in your head. “A, a slut, sir,” you stammer.

“Good. Good girl.” He nods, once, satisfied. “Yoongi.”

 The head between your legs disengages from your core with a soggy sounding ‘pop’ and a gasp of air.

“Fuck,” he snarls, hoarse, steadying himself with sticky fingers on your thighs, “Thank fucking god.”

“You’ll want to gag her.”

Hoseok obediently slips his hand from your chin to cover your mouth just before pain suddenly explodes from the inside of your thigh, followed by a pleasure so intense, so deep, your back arches violently, chest heaving, legs snapping shut and trapping Yoongi’s head between them. He begins to suck and though your screech is thankfully muffled mostly by Hoseok’s palm, it’s still so incredibly loud, rushing through your ears, as your orgasm finally, finally¸ washes over you, setting every limb aflame. Your vision goes white, hips gyrating, still clutching at Hoseok’s dick even as his swearing cuts off into grunts and you feel him fumbling on the table for something.

 Yoongi feeds from you fervently, grunting and humming and whining through his nose, and you can almost feel him swallowing; every time another mouthful of your blood is pulled from your veins, your pleasure spikes, keeping you high, keeping your limbs filled with cotton, your eyes filled with stars.

“Yoongi.”

Namjoon repeats himself when his first call is ignored. “Yoongi. Stop.”

He disconnects from you after a beat, teeth retracting with a slick noise. He laves his tongue over the wound, panting headily.

“Five more fucking minutes,” he murmurs into your skin, distraught. “Five more minutes, fuck, it isn’t enough.” “I know it isn’t. But she’ll be with us long enough to recover, won’t she?”

The afterglow, the shame, sinks in slowly. Yoongi is still kissing and licking, hand fondling your thigh absently. Hoseok removes your limp wrist from his lap, folding a soiled napkin and crumpling it in his fist before tucking his softened cock back into his trousers.

He crows playfully. “I hope so,” he replies, grinning. “She’s a lot of fun.”

“Won’t she?” Namjoon repeats. You’re trying to catch your breath back, subdue the sparks that still jitter through your limbs, make sense of what just happened, what you just agreed to.

“Y-yeah,” you manage finally, hushed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Your headache is gone.

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[hypno-sandwich]

Hypnovember - Day Twelve - Stage

(Possible CNC, possible dubious consent)

“Raise the curtain.”

Agatha paced the floorboards offstage, nervously. The stepped shakily onto center stage. She was trying not to crumple the piece of paper in her hands, but her fingers, her hands, her whole body was shaking. This wasn’t working.

It had worked in rehearsals and in previews, but this was opening night... why wasn’t it working? “Raise the Curtain,” she whispered to herself, again, more insistently. Nothing happened.

“Raise. The. Curtain.”

She didn’t have time to call her roommate, Naomi, who had given her the hypnotic trigger in the first place. The actual curtain was actually going to raise in mere moments and Agatha was actually going to have to actually remember her lines and actually.... act.

Her roommate was out there, probably, just beyond the curtain. This was her idea.

“You’re an amazing actress.”

“I’m not.”

“You are! Whenever you read me a story from the newspaper, or one of the plays from our literature assignments, you really make it come alive.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind, but I get so flustered talking in public. I tried auditioning once, and I was just so pitiful.”

“I have an idea. But you have to promise not to laugh.”

“...OK”

“Well, you know I’m taking a class in hypnosis?”

Agatha blinked. “Yes.... no. Come on.... does it actually work??”

“It does. And it’s actually really good for these kind of things, helping you out of your shell.”

Agatha thought briefly that there was a strange look crossing Naomi’s face when she said that.

“I don’t know....”

“Come on.” Naomi gave Agatha one of her crooked smiles. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Agatha gave a look. “Two words. Tattoo. Removal.”

Naomi laughed. “Ok. Name another time. Besides, college is supposed to be the time you cut loose and experiment. Here’s a chance to show how talented you are.”

“Fine! But no funny business.... no... making me bark like a chicken.”

Naomi smirked. “I promise. I won’t make you bark like a chicken.”

Agatha threw a pillow at her.

But that was it. For that entire weekend, Naomi hypnotized Agatha repeatedly. For Agatha, it seemed like the weekend flew by, and she seemed energized and alive by Monday. Naomi, for her part, also seemed overjoyed, but a little tired.

Still, Agatha felt a brand new sense of confidence: she was participating in classes more, had dumped her pushy boyfriend (what was his name? Derek? Rick? Frederick? Whatever.), and had gone on a wardrobe overhaul with Naomi. They had been spending even more time together, and Naomi was only too happy to donate some of her parents’ platinum credit limit to Agatha’s sudden interest in ties and bespoke blazers.

Agatha was also so happy to have found herself in rehearsals for a brand new experimental play. It was a mark of how effective the hypnosis had been that she barely remembered auditioning for it.

The play explored interpersonal power dynamics between women, and it was called “Look Into My Eyes.” Each night was a completely different experience, with roles drawn out of a hat from random suggestions. Some nights were extremely risqué, and Agatha always seemed to draw the dominant roles. It wasn’t like Agatha to enjoy putting the other cast members in their place on stage. But Naomi had helped her. She said that any time she felt unsure of her role or her place, she could just use the trigger “Raise the Curtain,” and everything would fall into place.

“It’s just a variation on the Stanislasvki method,” She remembered Naomi telling her, “say that trigger, and your unconscious will make sure that you’re ready for the role that’s presented to you.”

And it worked. She’d say it, and she became the characters she was given. It was as if Agatha was shoved aside, and the character was in her place. And Agatha grew to love the experience.

The first few rehearsals were relatively tame: “horny woman making the first move,” “experienced senior teaching virginal sophomore,” and “therapist/patient” were some obvious (and cliche’d) suggestions.

Agatha was surprised by how well she took to them. And she hugged Naomi and thanked her after every performance for giving her the confidence.

One night, though, she was given “CEO,” and she remembered the scene ending with her forcing her costar to bend over her desk writing “I’ll be a good capitalistic worker” over and over while Agatha spanked her with a copy of the Wealth of Nations.

Naomi had been there, and said she thought it was unusual but incredibly hot.

Just the night before the opening, Agatha was given “Nun/naughty college student at all-girls college,” and before too long had her co-star crawling across the stage on all fours, we Agatha spanked her with a ruler.

But this was tonight. Opening night.

“Raise the Curtain!” Still, nothing. Nothing was happening. Tonight’s role was written on a piece of paper in her hands, but she was too nervous even to look at it.

Finally, she heard a voice- it was Naomi’s voice.

“Raise the Curtain, now.”

Agatha blinked. She suddenly wasn’t on a stage. She was in their living room. Naomi was sitting in a chair, looking at Agatha with a look of trepidation.

Agatha looked around, and the memories shifted back to her, of Spring Break, and Naomi and her enjoying role after role in their apartment staycation.

She looked at Naomi again. Naomi was tied to her chair with ropes. Agatha was somehow sure she had tied them, but could barely remember that. There was a pile of plays on the coffee table, and an assortment of sex toys and flogging equipment, including a nun’s habit, as well as a pocket watch and some flashing lights, scattered around the room.

There was a pause. Naomi glanced down at the paper in Agatha’s hand.

Agatha looked down and read it.

“Hypnotist,” it said.

Agatha felt a surge pass through her.

“Really.” She said more than asked. She could see Naomi’s breathing and pulse quicken.

Agatha rolled up her sleeves, and grabbed the pocket watch. “Well, then,” she said, “let’s find out what’s been really going on. And what roles you can play.”

Naomi moaned contentedly, as she felt her mind slip away, and Agatha took another turn on the main stage.

[zanydanger]

SWitch. (Written by Zany Danger)

Here is a little bit of a lovey spoopy story for you. I didn't get many prompts this month so here is an MC story in 20 minutes for y'all. 

@ellaenchanting @undersleeper @amitus

CW: They/W, blood, dubious consent, vampire, fae, consent chats, hypnosis.

Consider supporting me through Patreon! You can get patron-only content, specific to you content, or just see my creations early! 

I also offer private sessions for a fee. Reach out for details!

The vampire’s gaze drew her in, entranced and entangled her. Like some remarkably skilled phlebotomist, she barely felt as they sucked her life force out. As her will started to disappear, Sally remembered herself.

“Hey!” Sally pushed the vamp off of her.

Startled they stepped back. “I…I’m sorry, I thought you wanted this. Was I hurting you?”

“Not really no, but I do feel like we should have a conversation about what’s inside my blood, among other things.”

The vamp shyly hid in their cloak. “So sorry, I really shouldn’t have assumed.” They quickly wiped the blood from their teeth.

“I like the sensation of you taking me over completely…even the covert hypnosis stuff. I just think we should maybe negotiate. I want this to last.” Sally looked up to the vampire with big eyes and flush cheeks. She giggled, “You know, I’m worth more than most of your thrall combined.”

“I thought we had killed…but you can’t be!?”

Sally turned to the side and shimmered in the moonlight. “Yes, I am part fae. I hope this doesn’t upset you.”

“I…uhhh…I. No. I didn't think there were creatures like you left. I'm sorry for my rash behavior. Uh. Could I please entrance you and take you into my arms?”

“Yes, you may.”

“May we make love tonight”

“Not tonight, but play your cards right and maybe some other time we can lay together.”

“Understood. May I bite you and take some more of your blood?”

“I’d love it if you did. Just please, be gentle. At the end, will you feed me some of your blood?”

“Uhhhhh….” The vamp got extra super nervous at this question.

“Just a drop.” Sally’s eyes flashed like the sun for a split second. “Pretty please?”

“Oh you devil, yes!”

“Just a run-o-the-mill half-fae.” Sally smirked.

[hypnoobiwan]

57 Flavors!  (well, 6 anyway)

@ellaenchanting‘s comment that “Wiseguy is teaching 57 classes” amused the heck out of me, because a couple of years ago that would have been only a slight exaggeration.  Fortunately, there are lots of really good new presenters out there so I’ve been able to slow down a lot from my 10+ class habit of the earlier years.  The ones I’m doing at Entranced are things I particularly enjoy doing, which is going to make for a fun con.

Erotic Hypnosis 101

(Friday, 10am)

This is the standard primer for newbies that I’ve done at every *EHU, Entranced, Charmed!, and several other BDSM cons since NEEHU 2.  I love teaching this class because it helps to bring newcomers into the fold in a way that is friendly, respectful, and consent-oriented.   Many a dubious partner has left this class feeling a lot less afraid of what we do, and that makes me unspeakably happy.

Your Hypnotic Self

(Friday, 2pm)

This is a complete rewrite of a class I used to do; it’s now all about what a new hypnotist needs to know in order to develop their skills.  We’ll talk about induction types, negotiating tips, rapport, fitting your approach to the mind you’re working with, and where to go from there to become a confident, skillful erotic hypnotist.  Recommended (by me, anyway) for beginner hypnotists or switches.

Monogamy Roundtable

(Friday, 3:15pm)

@dommestic, @ellaenchanting and I are cohosting this roundtable discussion for monogamous people in the scene.  We’ll talk about things like how you decide when/where to play, how much involvement your partner has in your play, and topics like that.  We’re not putting ourselves up as experts here, just facilitators; I’m hoping to leverage the wisdom of crowds to get more ideas out to everyone who participates.

Hypnotic Head Games

(Saturday, 10:15am)

I love doing this class!  It’s all about using hypnosis to mess with someone’s memory and perceptions.  Depending on who volunteers for the demo, we may do a number of things including change someone’s name; confuse the heck out of them by making people and things appear, disappear, or get rearranged; teleport someone across the room; put someone behind a perception filter, where their friend/partner is unable to perceive them even as they try to interact with them.  Other devious head games are possible as well.

May the Force Be With You

(Sunday, 11:15)

@thesecretsubject and I will be sharing the floor in this class, which is a public acknowledgement that when it comes to certain aspects of Star Wars, we’re both huge dorks.  We’ll be using the Jedi Mind Trick to mess with someone’s mind; slamming someine against the wall and choking them with the Force; freezing someone in carbonite; pummeling someone with bolts of energy from our fingertips; and maybe, just maybe, someone will be (un?)fortunate enough to have their mind probed to reveal a deep, dark secret (that they consent to beforehand).

Own the Room

(Sunday, 3:15pm)

Hypnotizing a group presents some interesting challenges.  How do you negotiate with 30 people?  How do you pick an induction for a bunch of different minds with different preferences?  How does that change when you’re talking about 50 people?  Or 15?  We’ll talk about those things, and if time permits have a brief demo group trance.

So, I have a light class load for me.  Which means I’ll have more time to do the other things I love to do at cons:  talk to people, trance with people, and help wherever I can.  Several of my current crop of about-to-be-graduates will also be doing their final exams at the con.  

Let’s have some fun!

@ultinath, @sideshowmel

[thealliterates-blog1]

Book Review: The Rose by Tiffany Reisz

Rating: ★★★★☆

Real talk: there’s nothing I love more than brainy erotica.

Because, at heart, I am a romance reader. Sure, I dabble in fantasy and history and contemporary literature, but if there isn’t at least a hint of a romantic subplot, you bet your ass I’ll probably knock a half star off the rating. Sure, I’ll chalk it up to some other “reason”, but that’s bullshit.

Don’t judge me.

The problem with my overwhelming love of romance is that I demand a lot from it. I’ve read so much of the genre that my pet peeves have morphed into giant, book eating monsters. If too many of them appear, they’ll tear the thing apart in my hands.

Ragebeast male leads? Fuck that noise. Dubious consent? I’m out! Insta-love? *vomits noisely*

But give me a consensual slow-burn and I’m happy. Add in a bunch of accurate history and I am delirious. That’s what The Rose does.

You can tell that Reisz did her research here. Or that she’s at least as big of a history nerd as I am. Because it’s not just the Greek myths that permeate these pages, but some well-placed, casual mentions of other historical facts. There’s a passage about Mary Shelley’s Mathilda that is especially poignant, delivered in such a crushing way that I had to set my kindle down for a second and say a little pray of thanks to the pantheon that I was born when I was.

History has not been kind to women.

For me, this book contains the best form of historical incorporation. Because really, when you add in this much history, you’re world building. Reisz laid it out in such an organic way that it never felt info-dumpy or forced. And while she acknowledged the cruelty endured by women in Ancient Greece, she found so many ways to subvert it. To have Lia and August re-write these tales while still acknowledging their darker origins.

The blurb for this book is so spot on. Lia is gifted what she’s told is a magical erotic cup, and she is believably reticent about its powers. Even when she and the male lead, August, take their first sips of wine from it and descend into the myth of Andromeda and Perseus, she chalks it up to something rational like hallucinogenic compound traces in the clay paired with hypnosis.

I really appreciated this aspect. So often in stories with paranormal elements something like this happens: “Oh, hey, I’m a vampire!” Followed by, “No shit? Cool!” Here, Lia portrayed the perfect amount of disbelief throughout the entire story.

And whoo boy, what a story it was. Through her and August, I got to relive not only Andromeda and Perseus, but a non-rapey Briseis and Achilles (and Patroclus – oh my!), a gender-swapped Psyche and Eros, a hilarious Dinoysus and Ariadne, Pan, Poseidon, Zeus, you name them, they make an appearance here.

This is my first book by Reisz, and from my friend’s reviews of her other works, I expected to be titillated. I did not expect to ugly-laugh my way through this. Between Lia’s highly inappropriate parents, to her and August’s whip-sharp back and forth dialogue, I spent the entirety of this book as amused as I was turned on.

Quite a feat, because this is hot AF.

But it’s so much more than time-traveling sex. In between the historical flashbacks, there’s another plot unfolding. One revolving around male power and the many ways in which men can hurt women. It was handled so well. The feminism, the progressive thinking on the part of the MCs and their friends and families, the (for once!) positive depiction of prostitution, the subversion of the patriarchy in a million small ways – I AM SO HERE FOR IT.

Even though I was given an ARC of this, I’m buying it when it comes out. Firstly, that cover is gawg. Secondly, I can easily see myself re-reading this over and over again.

If you enjoy braingasms as much as you do orgasms, add this one to your TBR immediately.

And to answer the author’s question in her acknowledgments:

YES, PLEASE. MORE OF THIS SERIES. I LIKED IT SO MUCH I ACTUALLY READ THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FOR ONCE.

Get your copy here.