#mantra to control lust

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʟᴜᴛ | J. WY

» PAIRING : Wooyoung x f! Reader

» SYNOPSIS : The times when your aged-up husband fucked you dumb

» TROPE : Established relationship

» GENRE : Filthy smut

» WORD COUNT : 2k

» CONTENT/WARNINGS : Aged up! Wooyoung, Mob boss! Wooyoung, Age gap (10 years), dom/sub themes, face slapping, spanking, rough sex, degradation, dumbification, slut shaming, dacryphilia, voyeurism, Consensual filming, daddy kink, use of nicknames, possessiveness, public sex, breeding kink.

Despite what everyone assumed about your relationship with your ten-years older mob boss husband, you’d say the assumption of him being too old to fuck your pussy right was the most offensive one of all. To say Wooyoung had the bigger sex drive in your relationship, was more precise, for he fucked you in various different places, positions and times. And he managed to leave you practically broken every time, leaving himself to pick up the pieces and fix you up again just to fuck you into oblivion.

There is not a thing about you that is not hot for your mob boss husband, and he made sure to show you off just enough.

But no matter how blissfully Wooyoung fucked you into submission every time, you had to have some of the favourite times. Times when Wooyoung did nasty things to you, to satisfy his own lust.

Despite being oh so possessive over you, always making sure to leave his marks on you, Wooyoung surely loved showing you off to his mob members. Often taking pictures and videos that showed how he fucked you dumb into nothing but dumb puppy at his use.

So when he had your arms weakly wrapped around his shoulders, looking like you were minutes away from breaking in his hold as your pussy stretched to the maximum by his cock. He just had to take a video of his pretty wife. His left hand rested on your shoulder, pointing to the mirror for which you had your back facing. His other hand caressed your hair, ever so gently, before sliding down to your ass. You knew you had it coming when his hand squeezed your ass tightly, before pulling away to land a slap on your skin. “You think they are going to love your little whimpers, kitten?”

You barely realised you had turned into a whimpering mess when Wooyoung landed a continuous series of harsh spanks on your now red bottom. Wooyoung moved his hand back to your neck, pulling you away from the crook of his neck. He cursed at the way your face had turned red, little tears at the end of your eyes, clearly showing how much Wooyoung had teased you for the night.

Finally giving into your plea which had turned into a mantra for the night, he finally jerked his hips up, causing you to jump up in shock. “Seems like fingering my slut till her cum ran down my hands wasn’t enough, was it?” You finally break into a puddle of loud moans and whimpers. Leaving series of babbles at how good it felt and pathetic begs to fuck you hard.

Wooyoung sets his phone on the coffee table next to your couch, placing it as though to give it a perfect view of his dick hammering into you. “So much for training you into a good little slut, can’t even fucking handle being cockwarmed.” your face controls to protest back, “Was a good slut, daddy” but it barely makes it out coherently. Wooyoung leans down to press his lips against yours, gently kissing you, while his hips slapped against your ass. Only for him to pull away the next moment to land slaps across your face. “Let’s see what they will think about that, princess.”

The next morning, while you had your head rested against the thousand dollar pillows, Wooyoung slowly caressed his semi-hard cock, reading the messages San and Mingi sent.

Debating whether or not to fuck you awake, as his jealousy clawed at him despite a voice in the back of his head telling him to let you rest. In the end, he had you on your stomach, fucking you slow and deep as he snapped another picture.

Wooyoung

All mine to fuck. <3

If Wooyoung did not send anything to them, he would have them watch the both of you live. So for some odd reason whenever he took you to one of his club meetings, to ‘drink and have fun’, it mostly ended up with you on all fours to take him or his cock shoved down your throat while everyone either just watched or had their dicks out shamelessly masturbating to the sight.

And it was certainly odd that Wooyoung made you drink something before you go. But it was too much to care when your cunt dripped so wet, almost making a stain through your jean skirts. Knowing it was not a new thing for any of them to find you cock drunk, you decide to mount his thigh, not caring that a waiter was staring wide-eyed at you.

Your pussy rubbed against the friction of his jeans, your hips shamelessly bouncing you up and down on his thigh all while the room went silent. It is not a surprise when Wooyoung reaches up to your face to slap you, hard. The sound resonated throughout the room, but it did nothing to stop your hips from grinding down onto his thigh. “Fucking shameless. You look so pathetic right now, brat.”

There was barely any true malice evident in his tone, but oh the degrading words did not help your condition. “Don’t care, daddy. Want you to fuck me right now, please.” You draw out your plea, taking his hand to move it to your pussy. Wooyoung surprisingly leaned back as he let you continue your pathetic little stunt. You slide your wet folds over his thick fingers, messily trying to ride them.

Oh was the expression of utter disbelief looking good on his members as they try to wrap their minds around the current situation. Wooyoung’s eyes wander over to theirs, over your shoulder before your whine pulls his attention back to you. “Please daddy, pussy’s so wet for you, just want you to fuck me. Gonna be a good slut, please.” It wasn’t just Wooyoung who knew exactly how to break you, a pathetic series of begging and pouty whines from you was enough to make him have you on your back with your thighs pressed to your chest.

I mean, how could he ever deny his good little slut when she’s begging at his mercy? But he would be lying if he said he didn’t like overstimulating you in front of them either, to the point your hands almost come down to caress your pussy from the amount of abuse. Only for him to grab your arms and make you hold them up again as he leans down to lap at your swollen lips.

When you first started dating Wooyoung, he knew you were extremely inexperienced, for he was the first one to teach you how to suck a dick. So it was not a surprise for him to find out you were a pillow princess through and through despite years into your relationship. As much as it was supposed to bother him, Wooyoung liked the idea of you completely relying on him for pleasure.

And he for sure loved proving his theory. So when he found in deep slumber, all while your skirt rode up leaving your white oanties on display for him. He just had to rub little circles on your clit to make it nice and wet for him, but applying minimal pressure so as to not wake you. But oh shoot! He had to leave to meet dealers at his house office minutes ago. Wooyoung felt so ‘guilty’ about leaving his princess all wet and ready, leaning down to kiss your thighs gently, “Be a good girl for daddy, okay?”

And thanks to the camera Wooyoung had set up in your bedroom, he could stalk your every movement when you woke up. Funny how he thought he would focus on anything that the dealers would say when the sight of desperately holding the vibrator against your pussy to find the spot, or your fingers trying to reach deep only for your attempts to go to vain.

Frustration was bubbling in your blood, your slick covered hands searching for your phone, hitting the top contact. As if on cue, Wooyoung heard his phone go off, and as soon as he picked it up, he was met with your frustrated pants. “Daddy! Where are you?” you didn’t mean the sentence to come out so bratty, but could you help it when you itched for a relief, down desperately. Wooyoung almost contemplated on coming to you in an instant, but of more preferably by being fucked into the sheets. “Watch your tone, brat.” Wooyoung involuntarily raised his eyebrows, surprised at your outburst. There was an immediate whine on your end, almost sounding like a wail. “‘M so fucking wet daddy, really tried helping myself.” Wooyoung could hear the sobs coming up to your throat, and gosh did it make his cock harden in his briefs. Your fingers found their way back to your womanhood, grinding course he loved watching you suffer a little too much.

“Maybe continue humping your little fingers just like that. And you’ll get to have daddy’s cock deep inside you again.” To say Wooyoung was shameless was an understatement. He absolutely had no hint of embarrassment in his tone for talking like that in front of everyone. Before you could let out another whine, he hung up on you, a subtle smirk hanging on his face as he set his phone down.

Wooyoung’s dick ached to be buried inside you, his eyes almost never leaving the screen except to answer some questions. So when Wooyoung finally walked past your bedroom door to find you only minutes later, to find you laying pliant on the bed. The sound of Wooyoung’s footsteps immediately had you on your knees, waiting for him like an obedient kitten. Knowing there was a plea in the tip of your tongue, his one hand moved down to wrap around your waist, while the other found home in between your thighs. The fluttering touch of his long fingers against your dripping folds had you moaning into the kiss.

“Such a tempting pussy.” Pulling away from your lips, he pushed you down on your back, hoisting your legs up and apart. His middle and ring finger slamming inside you without a warning, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasp. Your face contorts into a fucked out expression that has Wooyoung grasping your neck tightly.

“So patient for daddy, weren’t you princess?” Your mouth formed an ‘o’, your eyes rolling back when his fingers penetrated the sweet spot over and over again. Moving his hand from your neck to push away hair gently, before tugging hard on it. “Dumb little mutt, your slutty pussy of yours can never get enough.”

Wooyoung pulled out his fingers just when a trail of liquid spurted out of you, causing your hips to twitch in place. “So fucking messy, you’re just a dumb little pet at my mercy.”

One thing about the way Wooyoung treated you while fucking you was he was unpredictable. His soft gentle touch on your body could turn into a harsh slap, hard enough to leave his hand imprint. But why did he do this? It was to simply see the way you would let out a little gasp, or the way tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to hold it in. but it was mostly for the latter. There was nothing Wooyoung wouldn’t do to see tears running down his pretty slut’s face, stinging your cheeks thanks to his harsh slaps.

But there was nothing unpredictable about Wooyoung when he caught sight of a rather younger guy, around your age, standing next to you at an absolute close proximity, his hand on your lower back which was exposed thanks to the deep cut in your dress. Anger was un understatement, to say the least. His hand grasped the back of your neck tightly to tug you back into his arms, his figure towering over you from behind. “As much as I hate to interrupt conversations, I believe my wife belongs with me.”

There were red marks of spanks and slaps, dark purple hickeys adorning your neck, and your abdomen almost bulged out thanks to being filled up by loads of cum twice in a row. It was safe to say you look the epitome of dishevelled mess. “Think that little fucker could fuck you this good? Think he can wear your pussy out like I do? Huh?“ his hand squeezed around your throat barely allowing you to respond, “No daddy, j-just you. O-only you can fuck m-me this hard.” Despite being pleased with your answer, his hand came down to swat at your bottom again. “My slut is so pleasing, maybe I should let you cum again.”

[kalki-tarot]

Spiritual advices from a Hindu spiritual freak 🪷

These are my personal opinions and piece of advice and may or may not work for everyone, pls do what you feel is right for you, I'm not forcing any advices on you, anything which is written below is not intended to harm anyone or any group of people🙏🧿💓

Karma is REAL, what you do definitely comes back at you at some point in your journey as a soul. Nothing happens without a reason.

You need to remove the fears associated with living for yourself instilled by your religion(s), parents, peers, etc.

There is no heaven and hell, they are just states of conciousnesses.

There is no "SATAN" or "GOD", good and bad are two sides of the same coin. Without one, another can't exist.

God is just the highest level of consciousness, which even transcends dharma.

Religion and politics are tools to limit and control you from inside and outside.

Dance is one of the deepest meditations possible.

There is no definite path to become one with godliness.

Everything is "maya" i.e, an illusion. It's all a play, and we all are actors. You are not the body, you are the eternal atman.

Love doesn't need marriage. Is love itself not powerful alone that it needs marriage? Love is natural, while marriage is not.

True love always dies at some point, just like a full blooming rose sheds after sometime. True love is momentary and can happen with multiple people throughout life.

Yoga is not what the west shows it to be, it has more spiritual significance. The west potrays some bs like beer yoga, lemonade yoga etc. Which is utter bs.

Never let other people, other ideologies, religions, etc mould your mind. Be who you are, not what you're conditioned to be.

Don't repress your shadow parts, like lust, sexual desires etc.

Meditations works for real. Try it yourself.

Tantra is not only about sex, it's much more than that.

Never practice tantra without a proper guru. Never chant special mantras without an authentic guru's advice.

People who trigger you are actually mirrors of your own deepest darkest fears and shadow parts.

Everything is temporary, you as a human being too, are temporary.

Practicing mindfulness actually does wonders.

Don't donate money, instead buy things with it like clothes, food, etc. Then donate it to the needy.

[gaypirate420]

Feeding and Control// Jasper Hale

Jasper Hale x male!reader.

Inspiration.

Smut. Sub!Jasper. Edging. Bondage. Vibrators. Blood. Overstimulation. Oh vampire stamina.

A/N: First time writing for Jasper so it might be ooc. Also please reblog and comment. Requests are open (only male and gender neutral)!

Jasper looked so pretty.

His head hanged low and those blonde curls hide his pale face, his scarred arms covered with that beautiful red rope that tie them back to the chair, his legs spread nicely for you.

Those ropes were basically decorations. Jasper could break them with ease, but he doesn't.

It was heartwarming really.

"P—please." He whimpered, he looked up, his precious golden eyes meet yours.

Your lips leaves a tender kiss on his forehead and your hand cups his cold cheek, his body relaxes almost immediately under you touch.

"We haven't even started, dear." You whispered against his ear, he whines and looks at you, you wrapped your an arm around his shoulder.

His dick twitches, you stopped pumping his member right before he was about to come.

"You know what you get if you behave. Your reward for being a good boy." You whispered seductively while brushing your neck.

Jasper's eyes look at your exposed neck, he nods slowly.

"Y—yes, sir. I'll be a good boy, sir." He whispers and looks at you, you smile and kiss him on the lips, he kisses back desperate, his arms shuffle under the ropes.

Jasper wanted to touch you.

He needed to touch you, it didn't help the fact that you were sitting on his lap and every so minutes you rub yourself onto his thigh.

You grabbed a little egg shaped toy next.

Jasper's eyes widen as you place it on his cock.

"Sir?" He asked curious and slightly nervous, you smile and stroke his cheek, he melts against your palm, rubbing his face against your hand like a cat.

"It's a new toy I got for you, cowboy." You revealed softly. Jasper nods slowly feeling flustered, if he could blush he would, you always find a new way to make him feel so loved.

The toy started to vibrate against his member and Jasper moaned loudly.

This was a hole new experience for him and it felt amazing.

The toy was so powerful, he felt like his body was alive again for a moment.

You looked at him, whimpering, moaning and his body twitching in pleasure. You moved the toy from the tip to the bottom, and from the bottom to the tip.

His legs started to shake, he moaned and rolled his eyes slightly.

The vampire called your name over and over again, like a prayer, a mantra, a plea.

He was about to come.

You turn it off.

Jasper whimpered loudly, chest rising with his deep breaths and his head collapses against your shoulder.

"Please! Please! I need to come." He whispered against you, begging for release, your hand teased his member.

"One more, darling." You proposed kindly while your other hand stroke his blonde hair.

"I— can't." He whimpered against your neck, breathing your scent and feeling the blood pumping through your veins, he wanted another thing now. His lust clouded mind suddenly got fixated on his strongest desire.

Jasper needed to taste your sweet blood.

Bite your soft neck and seeing your blood paint your clothes red, he licks his lips at the mere thought of you getting weak under his arms.

He hissed against your neck and showed his fangs. You didn't have time to move because the hissing ceased as fast as it came.

Jasper placed clumsy kisses on your neck, as if apologizing for his behavior.

"You will get your reward, remember? Control yourself for me, pretty boy." You spoke while looking at him, his golden eyes look at yours again.

"Y—yes, sir." He whispered so softly it was almost inaudible, you smiled and kissed his forehead.

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

"One more." You whispered and stroke his hair, he whines and cries your name, you keep stroking his hair while his head is buried on the crook of your neck.

You have said this five times, one time with the toy, another with your hand, it was torturous.

The vampire doesn't know how much time has passed, his mind only thinks of the pleasure, your hands, your voice and the sweet scent of your blood.

Jasper is an uncontrollable vampire, blinded by his bloodlust and hunger.

"Look at you, tsk.." You started talking, he looks at you with curiousity, he can't think straight anymore.

"Panting and crying for me, a mere human. You, a strong and powerful vampire getting reduced to a needy whimpering mess. How?" You say while starting to pump his dick again.

His member twitches against your palm at the mocking and degradation.

Jasper whimpers against your neck, he couldn't speak anymore, he was completely blinded by lust.

His nature wanted your blood and his hearth wanted to touch you and to please you.

"B—b—because, I—I love you a—a—and you— h—help me c—control m—myself." He whispered breathlessly, almost slurring his words.

You looked at him with loving eyes, his yellow eyes rolled back and he moaned against you as you kept pumping his member.

"Oh pretty cowboy, I love you too." You whispered and kiss his forehead, he smiled faintly and nodded.

Your strokes got faster, he cried against you, begged you and moaned your name.

He could break the ropes and just throw you into the bed and let you dry.

But Jasper doesn't want to, he wants to be good for you, he loves giving up control because he feels so pleased and loved.

The vampire loves your hands on him, he loves your sweet voice telling him what to do, he loves being in this position.

You spit on your hand and keep stroking him, he moans your name again.

His legs shake and you stop stroking immediately, he moaned and trust his hips.

"Ngh! N-no, please, sir, sir, sir." Jasper begged against you, you looked at him.

"Please, sir. It hurts so much, I need to come, please, please, please." He whispered breathless, you nod and kiss his lips.

"Where do you want to come?" You ask him softly, he thinks for a moment, trying to make some sense to his mind.

"Inside you, please, sir, please— I've been so good, please. It hurts so much— ngh!—hungry." He begged you.

Your fingers brushed his shoulder, his back arched as he felt shivers down his spine. Your fingers tracing a path down his arm and then at the ropes.

You look at him, he swallows nothing, he looks like his throat is completely dry.

Now that's the sing to stop.

He looks at you, you wink with a mischievous smile.

Jasper is quick to breake the ropes and throws you gently on the bed, getting on top of you.

His cold hands desperately touched your body, getting rid of your clothes, ripping them and tossing to the side.

Jasper leaned down and kissed you with an intense passion and hunger, you groan against him as his lips locked with yours.

His cold lips travel down your jaw.

It was like a cube of ice sliding down your throat.

"Do it." You whispered.

Jasper thinks for a moment, he doubts of his control over his hunger for a moment. His cold hand holds the back of your neck.

He hissed and showed his fangs, you blushed and felt your body react. He quickly buried his sharp fangs on your neck.

It didn't hurt.

Instead you were met with a wave of bliss, of pure pleasure that made you moan.

He groans against you while sucking your blood. Jasper's is hand making soothing movements on your neck plus his gift ceasing any pain or uncomfortable feeling.

Jasper pulls away, you blush even more when you see him.

His chin was covered with your blood, his golden eyes meeting yours, he licked his lips.

You tasted so delicious, like the finest of wines. He can't get enough off you, he is truly addicted.

Jasper leans and kisses you again, you taste the iron flavor of your own blood, he groans against you.

"I love you— I love you— I love you." He whispered over and over while his hand explore your body, he spread your legs gently and his aching member met your folds slowly.

He became weak in an instant, moaning against your ear.

Jasper starts to move, giving some sloppy trusts before getting faster.

The faster the trust, the louder his moans became against your ear, his whimpering always makes you melt.

The sounds of your skin clashing together mixed with your moans were loud and absolutely pornographic.

Jasper moans your name and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

"Jasper! F—faster!" You shouted. He nodded and spread your legs wider, his hands on your hips as he trust you deeper and faster.

Your eyes fill with tears, your legs start to shake and Jasper moves even faster.

Feeling his cock twitching, Jasper comes inside you. Your own climax coming next.

He buried his face on your shoulder, your hand grips those golden locks.

He tries to speak, he calls your name softly between pants and whimpers.

"S—sir, please, please, please— One more." He whispered against your ear as his hands caressed your hips.

You meet his eyes not sure what of the two things he wants one more off, still, you agreed without hesitation.

"Thank you— Thank you— Thank you." He kissed your lips before his own lips traveled down your neck again.

Jasper throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you in a way you didn't know you were able to.

His hips start to move again at the same time his fangs show up, he bites you again.

"OH! J—JASPER!" You moaned loudly, he keeps feeding off you while his trusts became more erratic and deeper.

Your orgasm comes faster than you thought, his own too, filling you with his cum.

He pants and give a couple of slow and sloppy trust, he lick the drops of blood that fall down your chest, not wasting a drop.

His golden eyes look at you with a pleading gaze.

"O—one more, sir, please."

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

A/N: Hey. Whatcha doing? So yeah first time writing for Jasper, I was planning on a non smut fic for the grand debut but oh well.

[2-dsimp]

i feel like if someone like me were around Uriel he might actually be tortured by total accident. i stretch and i whimper guaranteed every time and if i try to like quiet it then it comes out as a shaky breath which isn’t much better. having a big chest and just not wearing bras unless i’m going outside that day. holding stuff between my legs if my hands are full while sitting down/am distracted by something. poor Uriel would be absolutely going through it and it’d make it even worse if you’re a super affectionate and physically clingy reader. sweet thing would be repeating “love not lust, love not lust” over and over in his melted brain <3

(also might i be 🍮 anon? if that isn’t available then 🦢 anon works just fine!)

You would be the lovely bane of his existence. The poor incubus would have to excuse himself multiple times to save his cute image.

Or scrambled to retrieve a pillow to place in his lap. Uriel would be noticeably jumpy and hyper aware of everything you do. With his face and pointy ears all flushed pink. He’d barely register the blackening of his sclera’s while he desperately repeats his all saving “Love not Lust” mantra in a prayer for himself and you.

Yandere Incubus! Who’s in a constant uphill battle to treat his chastity as a nun would with her reverent worshiping of the lord. If you’re naturally affectionate and physically clingy he’d oftentimes act like a flustered skittish bunny. Unless you’ve made your intentions to be with him crystal clear. As he doesn’t wanna risk any attempt of him losing control and ultimately breaking you in before marriage.

Especially not when he’s a certified lover boy that has a goal of marrying you and making you lawfully his with a pretty heart diamond ring on your finger.

—-/———/———————-

A/n: you can be 🦢 anon!

[enhastolemyheart]

kinktober day 4 — somnophilia

nsfw content minors dni.

pairing bf!sunghoon x reader

warnings consensual somnophilia (m receiving), smut, kissing, nudity, profanity, a little bit of dirty talk (ig), p in v, petnames, not proofread lmk if anything's missing

requested @ anon

word count 0.8k

kinktober masterlist — here

You couldn't sleep. It was nearing three in the morning.

You tried to have some tea (which obviously failed 'cause you are not a tea person); you tried meditating; you tried listening to white noise; But, Alas! You were wide awake, tossing and turning in the sheets. And that surprisingly didn't affect your boyfriend's slumber, Sunghoon.

You get and go the washroom. After doing your business, you exit the bathroom but end up stopping yourself in your tracks, astonished by your mans' beauty.

He slept soundly on your shared bed. Blanket half-off his physique. He slept shirtless, his smooth muscles inflating and deflating at his low and constant breathing. He is too pretty, you thought. Too pretty for your own good.

His skin seems to glisten under the moonlight that was seeping through your open window. Or maybe he really is glowing. Well, that's how it seemed when he walked inside your apartment not long ago, drenched in sweat due his heavy and draining tour prep. He couldn't stay awake for dinner, he just passed out.

The flashbacks of the way he sexily, messily stripped out of his shirt, and the way he asked you to pull his pants down because he was too tired to, all come back to you and run straight to your core. Now all you can think about is his heavy breathing, the way his body moved along with it, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to take a breather before going to sleep.

And now, your wet. Absolutely, disgustingly, needily wet.

you need him.

you manage to somehow strip the pants off his body and now he's moved to his back. You straddle him, not before taking off your sleep shorts and panties, clad only in a flimsy thin strap cami. You groan at the contact of your core meeting his member. Feeling impatient, you start to rock on you dick slowly. Sunghoon stirs slightly underneath you, adding some movement to yours, causing you to let out a low moan failing to be quiet. you throw your had back, throat drying up since your mouth has been open due to the ecstasy. You start riding his fully hard clothed member.

before you can pick up your pace, you feel large, rough hands make contact with the flesh of your ass, squeezing it like a stressball. You look at him in surprise, but find that his eyes are closed, face with no expression, putting you under the impression that he's still asleep or half asleep at the least.

"hoon?" you try to slow down, but his hands guide your pussy on him.

"you stop and you won't get to cum." he slurs, finally opening his eyes to look at you, brown orbs oozing with lust, "couldn't control yourself, sweetheart?"

"No- ah!" you can't control the sound that escape your mouth now. the sight of his abs clenching only adding up to your pent up needs. You moan at the sight and he gets the hint. He stops you by a slap on your ass before he sits up against the head board. He pulls you towards him with grip on your hips until you land on his stomach, right on his beautiful, full, clenching abs.

"ride my abs and maybe you'll get to come sweetheart." he slurs, giving a wet and hot kiss on your lips.

at his signal, you start moving on his abs. such a new feeling, it got a clenching hard around nothing. "Ah fuck hoon, feels good!"

he chuckles lowly before clenching his abs, giving you're bud of nerves more stimulation that has you moaning out his name like a mantra. you already feel the knot in your abdomen tightening. "hoon fuck I'm close."

"yeah?" he tightens his hands on the sides of your hips, helping you get off using his abs, "come for me babygirl."

you swear you never came so hard in your life, "Sunghoon!" you immediately fall on top of him as his movements falter, coming to a stop. you release all over his abs and lower tummy, feeling all sticky. you let out a little chuckle of embarrassment.

"Sorry for waking you up from your sleep, I know how tired you were."

he smack his lips before placing a kiss on your lips, your hands circle his neck at you make the kiss deeper before he pulls away, "nonsense sweetheart. If you're gonna wake me up for these type of reason I don't care how tired I am. Your pleasure come first babygirl."

you groan in embarrassment, head finding home at the crook at his neck. he chuckles before squeezing your ass, wrapping his arms around and turning you both around resulting in a squeal at you.

"plus," he sits up, taking off his underwear, showing off his dick that rock hard at this point, begging for some release and attention, "you deserve a punishment for ruining my sleep." he smirks wildly, indicating that it's only getting started.

you elicit a chuckle before pulling him down for a kiss. He puts his member inside, your tight walls greeting him home. your moan getting muffled by his lips. You know this night won't really end when his thrusts are deep and sharp.

"let's have some fun sweetheart."

a/n. tysm for reading. im really sorry for not posting consistently, i've been having alot of school stuff. im trying my best to be consistent with this series! I really don't want to discontinue this saur I'm even gonna post kinktober if its not done within the month. I will finish it.

taglist. @seungiesluv @jak-ey @unlikelysublimekryptonite @seungcore @heeseungshim @arizejkt19 @manasasugarbaby09 @wildflowermooon @lixieisfrv @racerhee @kaykay11sworld @heeliopheelia

@ ENHASTOLEMYHEART, 2023. - please do not repost, copy or translate.

[askbrahmsheelshire]

hi!! i wanted to ask for a Brahms x gender neutral reader writing drabble! can you please write brahms with an s/o who has been drawing him a lot and accidentally finds their sketchbook on their desk? thank you!

ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉᵎᵎᵎ ᴵ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵐᵃᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶦᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᶦⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ˡᵒˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ

Brahms x GN! Reader Warnings: Posessiveness, Consensual but Not Safe or Sane, Minor Sexual Content POV: 3rd Person Limited, Brahms Perspective

His fingertips glide across the cheek of his porcelain mask, riding the ridges of the lips that are cracked from years of wear. His eyes glance down to a discarded book, pages haphazardly flipped open. It feels odd, this flipped dynamic.

Being watched, that is.

His eyes are used to watching them through the cracks in the walls; from behind this mask he’s worn since the fire tore through his flesh. Being a predator hungry for its’ prey, hiding and concealing himself in the shadows.

He’s felt their eyes on his hulking frame every day this week, marking and etching into the paper of the moleskin they carry. Sitting in the parlor, behind the kitchen counters… In bed, as he stares down at them through this ceramic facade. Their eyes, locked onto his mask, trying to see through it. Scanning and memorizing, marking and recording.

More than a dozen different sketches of his own face and body lined and shaded are littered throughout the pages. These sketches show everything— the angry burns that crawl down from beneath his mask and onto his shoulder, his relentless body hair, the brown ringlets of his hair that frizz out and go straight in mismatched places.

He didn’t realize he’s been this thoroughly…examined. While he was busy recording their curves into his memory, their every movement throughout his home repeated like a mantra in his head, they were busy doing the same. His chest… His eyes behind his mask…The folds and draping of his clothes against his body. The unmistaken straining of his pants.

He can’t help but groan, wetting his lips to the physical desire of his lover leaking off the page. His thoughts becoming more and more muddied the more he sees his lust reflected back on the rough textured paper.

A creak of the staircase, barely audible, hits his ears. He knows every weakpoint in the old floorboards of this home to recognize when his lover is making their way up the stairs. Like a sixth sense.

His body catches them before even a squeak can escape their throat. Moving like a shadow across the floorboards of the bedroom to the opening door, just a gust of wind hits their face before they see him there. A hand reaches out, stopping the door’s swinging movement and pinning their bodies together against its’ frame. He looms over them, faces mere inches away. It’s only then do they find the air returning to their lungs, eyes wide in shock, finally seeing him there before them.

That look— that desperation! In the short time he’s had them here as his new plaything, he can still get this kind of reaction from them! That sort of desperation and fear when startled and backed into a corner, primal and animalistic. It’s intoxicating, it’s all his! Mine, mine, mine, he thinks.

“Gh— Brahms…! God, you scared me—” The blush errupts across their face, beautiful, hot blood, taking over the color on their cheeks. Their eyes whip from his mask straight to the scene of the crime, the mistakenly discarded notebook that lay open on the dresser. Whines and whispers of an animal pinned down by the teeth of a predator croak from their lips, followed by an embarrassed and nervous smile. “I didn’t mean to leave that out.”

Cute.

Cute, cute cute. Cute!

Their breath is uneven, shoulders shaking at every inhale, heart thrumming like a small little hummingbird. He moves in closer, God, he can’t control it, moving his face into the crook of their neck and his breath pounding on the inside of the ceramic. It’s like he can taste the blood on his lips through the thin skin of their neck. That racing pulse, drumming, drumming, drumming under their jaw is enough to make him faint.

“Did you see everything?” They ask, smugness and pride playing on their lips, despite their nervousness and embarrassment. Had they left it out on purpose? Was it meant to entice him, a game they've devised for his amusement? He loves these kinds of games.

He doesn’t answer, just breathes in their hot breath and scent, porcelain cold against the sensitive lobes of their ears. Shaking like a poor deer caught in the scope of a hunter’s rifle. It’s more fun this way, forcing information out of them, making them think they’re giving it up on purpose. Entice, sit, wait.

“You’re just beautiful, Brahms. I can’t help but draw you.” They smile, still shivering and swaying like long, wild grass. A spark of indignation flickers when he doesn't deny looking at their drawings, "It's only fair. You stare at me all the time."

His voice, high and wrong for a man his age, “You don’t like when I stare?” A hint of a smirk on his real lips.

“I didn’t say that!"

A quick retort, almost too loud for how close they are to one another.

That look—! The desperation for his approval, their fear and exhilaration. Their eyes cast down quickly, embarrassed by how quickly they needed to clarify.

He needs it. To the core of his being, he craves it.

The saliva pooling under his tongue is overwhelming as his eyes dart across their features. He swallows hard.

A whimper rushes past their lips. “I’m sorry, Brahms,” they apologize, voice light and unsteady. “I didn’t mean for you to find it, I—” A startled squeak as his hands find the sides of their face, thumbs nestled on the skin of their temples, stroking and smoothing the skin there. His grip forces their eyes to meet.

“Why?” He finds his voice, too delicate, too unstable. They didn’t want him to see? Why not? Hasn’t he been good? He knows he’s been good, he’s been nothing but obedient. He’s good, he’s good, so then why? Why, why, why?!

Their eyes shine with something he can’t place— something he can’t understand. He’s good, he’s been so fucking good.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Their hand rests on his chest, rubbing smooth, small circles. God, that feels good. Good. Good. He’s so good. “I didn’t mean for you to just… stumble upon it.”

His fingers tighten their hold, scratching the line of hair on their neck, sending a shiver straight down their spine. “And how would you have wanted me to find it?”

Their breath hitches, eyes wide as they look into the empty eyes of his mask. “I… I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you how I see you.”

“Show me,” he whispers, his hands releasing their grasp moving down, down, down to grip their waist.

“Show me how you see me.”

[sonnetsoncanvas]

Mess it up : pt 4

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can

Part of the Mess it up series

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)

Warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT AHEAD, masturbation (M & F), fingering, vibrator, overstimulation, bondage, choking kink, possessive bucky.

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!

We could make it better, breaking every habit.

Bucky POV

“You like that, don’t ya baby?” Bucky grunted in your ear; his voice unrecognisable to his own. You moaned loudly, the melody of that beautiful sound echoing through his apartment.

“Bucky…baby…please, pleaaaase…..oh my god.” You blabbered. Bucky was sure you had lost control of your mind. He had never seen you this vulnerable, this submissive. You had trusted him enough to take down all your defence and give yourself to him, a fact that warmed his soul even in through his lust filled haze.

He shifted his focus on your swollen clit, wet and slippery after being thoroughly abused for hours by his mouth and the little pink vibrator he had bought for the very purpose of turning you into the mess you are right now. He kept his fingers curled inside you to reach that one spot that made you squeal and kept on moving it achingly slow, just enough to keep you within the reach of your release, but not quite much to give it to you.

He was, after all, punishing you.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, huh, doll?” he mocked, his eyes sweeping over your stunningly ruined form, his mind not believing it was him who had done this to you.

“bucky please…. Sorry..aaah…..please I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You chanted it like a mantra to placate your man, to convince him to give you what you so desperately need. You arched your back, tugging on your tied hands, beckoning him to kiss you.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, pretty baby. I think you need to be reminded who owns this perfect pussy, no? I’m the only one who could make a mess out of you. the only one who can see you this way. But here you are, going around, giving people the impression that they can be in my place, giving you everything you want.” He bent down to lick the sweat off your neck, sucking another bruise to the already marked area, still angered by the way boys were ogling your ass at the afterparty today. He knew that you were fair game to them, considering that your relationship with him was a well-guarded secret. Still his heart burned with envy when they hit on you openly, in a way he never can.

And you, the minx you were, flirted back with them, knowing how this would mess with him. He had almost stalked to the boy, shoving him into his place (which was away from you, obviously). Thank God for Steve, who had glared on the boy enough to melt him to the ground. You, however, had simply smirked at Bucky, daring him to claim you.

And here he was, claiming every inch of you. kissing, sucking, marking it.

You mewled prettily, wriggling your hips to get some friction, making bucky chuckle. He gave in then, increasing the pressure on the vibrator, finger fucking you faster until you gave out a prolonged moan, your pussy fluttering and squirting, soaking him. And God above, he knew that this must be what heaven would be like.

“My sweet, sweet girl, did so good for me.” He murmured reverently as he untied your wrists and kissed the red marks. “My best girl, my girl, my doll.”

“FUUUUUUCCCK” Bucky growled, leaning all his weight on his metal arm, his flesh one jerking his dick roughly. A couple of more strokes and he came violently, his release smeared all over his  hand and the bathroom floor, before flowing down the drain.

He sighed, disappointed and dissatisfied. Jerking himself off, as surprisingly common as that was for him, was never enough. He was always left feeling empty inside, no matter how much he tried.

It was to rid himself of this emptiness he had been with other women, trying them on as clothes to see if they could fit the void of your absence. It was wrong of him to do that, he knew it. But all of those hook ups were just that, transactional sexual encounters where they traded orgasms and went home.

He could not classify them as relationships, even if the media or his friends seemed to refer them that way. Where was the emotional connect, the understanding, the long conversations, the longing. Bucky never felt an iota of what he felt with you with anyone else, a fact that had frustrated him initially. Now, it was just a fact he had accepted resignedly, that he would never fall in love with anyone the way he fell for you.

He was toxic bastard. Unfair to all those women who tried their best to live with his brooding ass. He had apologised to them much later, telling them how sorry he was for his emotional unavailability. Some forgave him, some still hated him.

Ultimately, he circled back to this, taking care of himself while thinking of you. this was what he’d done for all the time he was apart from you, nevertheless who was in his bed or if he was alone. He simply reminisced of the times you were together or imagining what he’d do to you if you were there with him. And great heavens, there were so many filthy, debauched things he would do to you, if only he could.

Your reappearance in his life had spurred him on in a bizarre way. It was like he was a teenager again, constantly horny. But it wasn’t even horniness that was driving bucky crazy. It was a strange longing for intimacy, to be intimate with you. to touch, taste and smell you.

Two days ago, he had almost gotten that. Bucky hadn’t meant to cross any of the unspoken boundaries set by you, but the moment he sensed you in peril his primal intuition to protect you had taken over, pulling you towards him.

that singular moment brought him more peace than anything had in the past five years. Everything just felt…right.

It felt wrong, how right this situation felt. His heart had grown so used to the cold, that warmth the seeped through you felt foreign, alien. And he’d jerked back, ending what was the best thing to happen to him in oh so long.

Trust bucky to mess it up.

He cleaned himself up and dressed, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants that used to make your beautiful eyes wide. He smiled at the memory, walking out in the living room where he sensed you. it was natural to him, his heart finding where you are before your eyes could even locate you. you were sitting next to Steve, having an intense conversation from the sound of it. As he entered the kitchen, Steve hollered “Hey Buck! Y/n accidentally made some extra French toasts. They’re by the stove”

His heart stumbled a bit. He immediately refused to believe that you made a calculation mistake. You who had been cooking since you could reach the countertop, you who hated wastage of any kind and was so cautious of every spoonful. You did not ‘accidentally’ cook something.

Maybe you had noticed his feeble attempts at cooking. Maybe you still remembered he loved your French toasts. Maybe he should shut up and just eat.

He grabbed a plate and sat on the couch opposite to you guys, paying close attention to the topic of conversation. Turns out it was Steve convincing you to live with him.

“Steve I am not going to live with you and your girlfriend if I get the job. I am literally twenty four!” exasperation was evident in your voice, which bucky picked on. Your brother however, did not.

“Fine. At least get a place nearby. How about in our building? I’m very sure the apartment downstairs is empty ever since that emo guy moved out….”

You only chuckled at your brother’s naivete. He had to be doing this on purpose, no one is that dumb. “There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to afford living in this neighbourhood on an associate’s salary! Not all of us get a million dollars at our first gig!” you were trying very hard to retain your composure, but your body was betraying your annoyance.

Bucky had never butted between the two of you before. But this time he felt it was his responsibility to knock some sense into his foolhardy best friend.

“Steve, man, she’s a person in her own right. She has proved over and over again how capable she is of living on her own. I don’t think its right to be dictating your terms like that. If she needs help figuring stuff out, I’m sure she knows she can come to us anytime.”

The minute he said that, bucky’s entire body tensed with feeling of your eyes on him. You had looked in his general direction since he sat down, but now you were looking directly at him. His face warmed with awareness.

Steve was apparently pacified , his arguments reduced to a disgruntled grumble as he collected the plates and ambled towards the kitchen. And bucky was now alone with you in the room.

You turned your head and looked into his eyes “thank you for taking my side. I didn’t need you to, but I guess he needed to hear that from someone that wasn’t me.”

It was like the speech function of his brain stopped working. Say something damnit

“it was nothing. He’s missed you that’s all.”

“And I’ve missed him, but this is bordering on overbearing.”

“Steve had always been overbearing when it came to you, don’t you remember what happened when that emo boy hit on you?”

And that’s how the first real conversation between the two of you in the past five years began, ranting about Steve’s occasional misdemeanours. Which in turn started a conversation about your interviews (which he was elated to hear went great), which in turn started a conversation about his last tour and next album’s preparations.

 Before he knew it you were both laying the past four years bare in front of each other. And bucky felt like he could finally breathe again.      

You bath talked for what felt like an hour but was in reality three, only to be separated when sam dropped by to drag him to gym. He’d bid goodbye to you with a smile, and what made him giddy was that you smiled back too.

That day bucky did an extra hour workout, just because it felt like his heart was pumping extra blood in his veins in jubilation. He also wanted to replay every bit of the conversation in his head before it faded away.

Afterwards, as he ambled to his car with aching feet and burning lungs, all he could think was, “I can spend the rest of my life like this.”

Reader’s POV

As Bucky got up and left for gym, glaring at Sam as if he had snatched his favourite toy from him, he’d taken a moment to smile down at you

And it paralysed you. completely halted time. And turned it back to five years ago, when you had seen it for the first time.

Out of sheer courtesy you’d smiled back at him, you told yourself. That your smile had got nothing to do with fact that you genuinely enjoyed talking to him.

That you never wanted to stop talking to him.

you walked to the washroom to do your night time routine with a strange sense of relief, the sort you hadn’t felt for years.

“good.” You told your reflection in the mirror with toothbrush in your mouth, “now we can be amicable acquaintances rather than awkward exes. Makes things easier for me.”

“I mean now I have nothing holding me back from accepting the New York offer, right?” you debated with no one with particular as you disrobed for shower.

But as soon as the first spray of hot water hit you face, all your inhibitions melted to something primal. You closed your eyes and the highlights of the conversation played out in your head in slow motion.

His unfiltered smiles. His compassionate eyes. His long silken locks. His veined, tattooed arms. His long, ringed fingers

Damn his long, ringed fingers.

They had been your undoing long back, just like they were now.

Your own fingers travelled down your body to the one place that was aching for that blue eyed adonis.

It had frustrated you for so long that your brain will only ever conjure up Bucky’s image whenever you tried to masturbate. No matter how hard you tried, it was always him. His fingers, his tongue, his cock. You tried listening to erotic audios, reading the filthiest eroticas, watching porn, but no avail. You blamed it on the fact that your body had only known his touch. You never allowed yourself to become physically involved with anyone after him, and there was no one before him. It was and has always been just him.

But now your brain did not need any extra aid to make you imagine his fingers pressing on your clit and his other hand, preferably the metal one, caressing your breast, gently tugging and teasing your already hard nipples.

Soon his fingers would slowly probe your entrance, just circling it with his index until you begged him to enter your pussy. He had always been a jerk like that, making you beg, scream and squirm before giving you your sweet release.

With two fingers fucking your fluttering pussy, and his palm pressing on your sensitive clit, he would climb up and take you heavy breasts in his mouth, sucking them viciously, leaving his metal arm free to choke you just enough to make you delirious.

His rings would drag against your walls, his palms maintaining that insistent pressure on your clit, while he continued to whisper the obscenest things to you, the cool metal of his arm contrasting your overheated skin.

It wasn’t long before you clenched around your fingers as a shuddering orgasm washed over you. your eyes water and you sank down to the floor, panting, while warm water still poured down on you, washing away the evidence of your arousal.

Arousal that was the result of a mere conversation with this devastating man.

You were utterly and truly Fucked.

[thebimbowhisperer]

As a bimbo, I want to weaken my mind, to become more controlled and more of a living stereotype of the word "Bimbo" but I sometimes feel a little confused as to how I can most effectively become a doll for his pleasure. If there was something I could do to remind myself each day that I am "for him" what would you recommend?

Communication is the key. It is about rhythm, mantras, about key words, important suggestions and all-embracing attention. In truth, it is not so much your job as his job to give you this feeling. You are the playground in this picture, the molded desire, the puppet on a string, the joy at his will and mercy.

Tell him to give you mantras, rhymes, while you edge. Tell him to give you tasks, numbers you have to fulfill. Tell him to give you orders, schedules of lust. Tell him to give you commands, repetitive habits.

In consequence, you will just think about him. Think about his words, his desire, his needs and wants, and you have become what you crave, a doll, a sex toy at his command.

[yuri-is-online]

More asmo thoughts:

angels are all focused on "inner beauty" etc (or at least this is what makes sense to me) so generally all angels are considered beautiful no matter what and it didn't matter what asmo looked like because his soul could harmonize with basically everyone (also a hc for why hes one of the more helpful & agreeable brothers generally)

but now, as a demon, other demons are more selfish, cruel, etc. and value appearance and what you can DO for them, how you benefit them, and newly fallen asmo feels up shits creek in terms of his appeal.

so he gradually recreates his niche in hell (in a more corrupted version of it) by just forcing himself into whatever form he needs to be to be most appealing.

ENTER THE HUMAN who yes, humans can also be selfish, but this isn't a guarantee the same way it is for demons. and This Human doesn't like ANYTHING he's doing to gain their attention! hes saying all the right things, telling them all the ways he can be of Use to the human, spends so much effort to try different pleasing forms, all because it has been So Long since he's been around people who just want him to be there as himself that he can't FATHOM it.

Anyway anytime something genuine slips through his mask and the human reacts POSITIVELY?!?! absolutely bamboozled. he either thinks it's a fluke or that he has to lean into whatever they saw to an EXTREME because they can't just... like when hes real with them right???

so in the original ask I answered I was talking about a personal project of mine that's completely unrelated to Obey Me, but I do believe that is what you are talking about and because this is a very nice headcannon you chose to share with me I am going to talk as if I am thinking about Obey Me! Asmo and not my own o.c. Asmo.

I feel like an angel's soul would be less focused on beauty and more focused on taking on the appearance of what a person would find trustworthy. "Be not afraid" is the constant mantra of an angel's soul and Asmo is especially good at clicking with people and putting them at ease.

Like I said in that original ask, Lust is about projection of desire, so as a demon his soul can't reach out to other demons in the same way. It's not enough to simply put people's inner turmoil at rest, he has a role to fulfill, a million and one separate fantasies that are not interested in how he feels about things so he becomes hardened against being accepted for himself. After all if that's a lie then he has no reason to want it.

I had this idea jotted down for a fic I never wrote (for a fandom I have ever mentioned being in to on this blog) where a character essentially did what we are saying Asmo is doing here, but it was not something they could control. That character was under the impression no one had ever seen what they truly looked like, could not see it because who would want to see them for who they were? It's the same with Asmo, he's so used to playing a role that when the human mentions they love how he doesn't feel the need to hide how brown his eyes are he chokes.

What do they mean he doesn't need to hide it, how did they even see it in the first place? And when he angrily asks them to describe how he looks they enthusiastically describe and praise every plain, boring, hidden feature he has almost forgotten he had as if it was one of the forms he had specifically crafted to tempt someone to sell their soul.

"A person is at their most beautiful when they are most like themself!" There isn't a shred of irony in your voice, or a lie in your breath. He doesn't know what to do with you, really. Do you mean that or is it just that his truest form is what would please your tastes best? He doesn't know but he's so exhausted from trying to break himself into pieces, please say you will find him beautiful if he rests a while with you, won't you?

[morgana-ren]

Bailey, Leighton, both weak spots for me. If you wanted to share any thoughts, any lewd disgusting thoughts or random ideas you'd had about those two I'm more than willing to listen

Oho-ho, you came to the right place.

So here's the thing:

Bailey and Leighton are both absolutely repugnant, reprehensible characters. Most people in this game are abhorrent, yes, but these ones strike a special note with me for a few reasons, namely authority-- and the abuse of it.

Bailey's label is 'Caretaker.' He's the closest thing to a father that you have, presumably raising you since before you can remember. He's a dark mirror into what a parent should be. Where there should be unconditional love, affection, and trust, he provides exploitation, cruelty, and despair. He has absolutely zero qualms with quite literally selling you and your fellows to the debauched denizens of the town and subjecting you to one of the worst experiences that a human can physically go through, and he does it on a dime. Even other terrifying people in town seem petrified by him, and that should give a clue to how awful he really is.

Leighton is the 'Headmaster.' He is charged with your education and safety during the mandatory hours you attend his institution. He is arguably responsible for the success and the happy-ever-after of every student under his charge. Instead, he uses this power to sexually exploit the defenseless people under his care. There are multiple people over town with lingering trauma from his actions, including Daryll, and even Mickey, who has become a paranoid recluse largely in part to these actions, and has you get rid of the evidence of this abuse.

It makes these two particularly disturbing. Remy, Briar, all of the rest of them are disgusting, but they aren't beholden to you in any manner. I suppose it could be argued that Harper, as your GP, is also doing this, but it doesn't quite feel to the same degree to me.

Now, in reality, I can be counted on to be a thorn in the side of any authority figure. I have a real issue with it, and I do not like being controlled or told what to do.

In a sexual sense though?

Listen, something in my brain must've gotten twisted up along the way to adulthood because nothing gets my engine going quite like someone abusing authority. Fucked up to say, perhaps, but it is what it is. Maybe it's part of being the world's biggest brat, but who knows.

There is something enticing and utterly terrifying about it.

Bailey has access to you at your most vulnerable. It is only through him that you have a roof over your head, food to eat, and a bed to sleep in. He's a stern man who brooks no argument. You could say he's mostly the main antagonist; the one keeping you from any semblance of peace or happiness in this town by seeking you out and keeping you on a leash that he's got firmly wrapped around his hand. He isn't openly lustful-- quite the opposite, in fact. He probably has a 'I will not fuck my ward, I will not fuck my ward' mantra he repeats in his head.

Your presence is required at school, and Leighton will use any and all opportunities to exploit that, and he isn't shy about telling you. While not as much of an active antagonist as Bailey, he certainly is as evil. He seems to revel in using his position to meet his own.. uh.. "ends" and you aren't his only target in doing so.

Bailey is more difficult to provoke than Leighton. It requires a high ass seduction check to even get into the position of seducing him, and even higher skills to get him off. He wants to see you first and foremost as a cheque to be cashed, and he makes a point not to muddy his hands in the goods if he can help it. However, if you squint, all the signs are there that he isn't immune to your siren's call.

When you call, he comes running. Scream in the bathroom? Oh, he's fuckin' there. Disappear for a little bit too long? He seeks you out. You're a grown ass adult and his method of punishment is... bending you over his desk to spank you? If you do manage to seduce him, I think he lets a bit more slip than he actually intends to, saying things like "You've always belonged to me" and other possessive sentiments (most especially if you lose your virginity to him) that sort of give away that he's clearly thought about this more than once and is seriously going to indulge now that he finally has you.

Leighton on the other hand? Leighton wears his lust on his sleeve.

If you step foot in the brothel (whether to work there or just to get yourself a shiny fake ID,) Leighton is fuckin' quick on the draw to grab you, which tells me he's had his eye on you for a while. If you proceed to work at the brothel, he hires you the moment he sees you. Annoy him for even a second at school? It's spanking time. Be a little bit of a rascal at school? Get your tits out and lather 'em up! You're washing his car while he watches and twitches because he can't openly attack you here. Try to defend Sydney and say you'll take a part of the punishment? My man practically crawls out of his skin right then and there.

He has a high level of self-control, but it is easily possible to drive that man up a wall with the right actions, and it's pretty apparent from the get-go that he has his sights set on you in less than appropriate ways. Thing is, he really won't act outright similar to Bailey. He's more a voyeur than anything, preferring to watch and document rather than actually take part. It seems like a control thing for me, and also probably so he has dirt on everyone else while keeping his own hands relatively clean, but like with most things, I bend parts of the character in my mind to suit my tastes.

They're both difficult to outright seduce. They're both controlling, hideous fiends that abuse their vulnerable charges. They're monsters. Powerful monsters capable of foul, dastardly things.

Can you imagine being the weak point of that monster?

[tomurakii]

I wish I could draw because the imagery of Durge returning to the Last Light to kill Isobel is so deliciously angsty.

Dragging their feet as they cross the threshold into the warm embrace of the Inn's light, white-knuckled with the sussur dagger in hand. Better to make sure that if she doesn't die in one hit, she gets no opportunity to heal. For the sake of mercy, they told themself.

Shuffling left, right, like the reanimated dead past the corpses of Horrors they'd slain only nights ago. Protecting the very person they had now come to destroy.

They had to do it. They remembered what happened to Alfira all too well, the brutality that would occur were they to kill another in their sleep. That same brutality, turned against the one they love most. It had to be Isobel. They had to maintain control. The mantra of justification rang in their head, barely able to conceal the giddiness that rose within. The blood-lust. The Urge, to kill that which is pure. Selûne's shield, Ketheric's favourite child. The Last Light's last hope.

A perfect, pretty corpse.

Isobel would react much too late. She had been so trusting, willing to allow that winged attacker several steps into her room before she responded. She would welcome her saviour with open arms, and a far more dangerous beast along with them. She would assume they were ill, perhaps, the sheen of sweat and unfocused eyes making them appear feverish. She would approach of her own volition, glancing over superficial cuts and scrapes as the silencing power of the sussur blade pressed against her back.

And then...

When it was over, they would clutch her tightly as they sank to the floor, watching recognition dawn in her eyes as she saw them for what they were. Myrkul gave her life, Selûne gave her meaning, and it was Bhaal who brought her death. Always a mere mortal pawn in the game of the gods. They would hear the people of the Inn succumb to the shadow curse, too entranced by the corpse to see Isobel's barrier break. They would do everything in their power to resist, push back against The Urge desperate to defile. Beg themself to push Isobel away all while their nails dug into her dead-pale flesh, leaving crescent-moon cuts that could not bleed. Jaheira would ascend the steps expecting to find a hero, an explanation.

She would find instead the shuddering Bhaalspawn, caked in blood.

[riversimmone]

Three's A Crowd - Chapter 18

Summary:

SasuSaku. He didn't mean to kill that man. He had simply reacted to being attacked. And now Konoha is forced to hunt down the rogue members of Team 7, or risk open war. Eventual NaruHina.

XXX

Read from the beginning. This is a work in progress story you can find on tumblr and AO3 and completed on FF.NET.

[All tumblr posts will be tagged ‘Three’s A Crowd’ with their corresponding chapter for quick and easy access.]

Enjoy. :)

The roaring wasn't coming from the Shinobi, but Sasuke could see it, plain as day. 'Kyuubi, Kyuubi… Naruto is the Kyuubi.'

The thought repeated in his head like a mantra and he hadn't realised at first that his Sharingan had activated. Sasuke's eyes trained on Naruto and the sound of crunching bones preceded the stench of blood in the air. Sakura's screams weren't helping his concentration, and Sasuke tried to think, to figure out how to get past the dozen or so Kumo Shinobi blocking his path to his teammate.

He could feel the heat rising in his own body, the blood lust taking over and he trembled, not able to hide his anger.

What were they doing to him? Those weren't death throes.

The red chakra was receding now, like they'd plugged him with a stopper, and Sasuke turned to Sakura. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he didn't know what to do, but the expression on her face stopped him – she looked directly into Sasuke's eyes, horrified. His heart clenched and a knot was forming in his stomach. Sasuke growled at that, losing control of his chakra as those bright green eyes widened in fear.

Sakura watched, terrified, as the tomoe of Sasuke's Sharingan spun, shifting, dividing, and moved faster than she had thought possible. He had worked hard, earning that second tomoe; right now, it was splitting into three. He turned away from her, and she closed her eyes to the sound of the first screams. Black fire engulfed them, leaving Naruto untouched, and the smell of burnt flesh reached him as he tried to fight the deep seeded desire to burn down everything around him.

The power was so intense and Sasuke couldn't maintain it at this level – not yet. He closed his eyes, trying to will it away, and the air around him began to cool down. This fire was familiar to him: he knew what it was, now staring into the dying cinders that was once the Kumogakure ninja. It was Amaterasu – a Dōjutsu he'd only ever seen Itachi activate before ‒ he felt excited at this, despite the circumstance.

It was a few seconds before the extent of what he'd done finally dawned on him, but he couldn't bring himself to care, having blocked out the screams of the men before him. Their charred bodies meant nothing to him, but the pinkette next to him was shaking like a leaf.

Sakura's eyes snapped open at the touch of his cold fingers on her arm.

"Sakura…" He wasn't sure what to say, suddenly worried he'd just overdone it.

She inhaled deeply, nodding to him but unable to smile. "Naruto…"

She ran over to the blonde, avoiding stepping on the Shinobi on the forest floor, and pulled him into her lap as he groaned. His eyes were closed and his pulse erratic – she ignored the fact that she now had his blood on her and kissed his forehead.

"Oh Naruto," Sakura whispered. 'You should have told us.'

But, on some level at least, she understood why he'd kept this quiet. The villagers of the hidden leaf had treated him like he had the plague his entire life, and his two best friends were too angry at another jinchuriki to give him any hope they'd still love him if they knew.

"We do love you," she cooed in his ear, hoping he could hear her.

Crying, Sakura held Naruto to her chest, grateful for the soft sound of his heartbeat. She kissed the crown of his head. Sasuke watched her quietly, wishing there was something more he could do to help. Even though he was still alive, the blonde was fading fast; he didn't need to be a medic to know that his pale, gaunt skin meant he'd lost a lot of blood. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to watch his best friend die, and he was helpless to stop it. Sasuke growled softly, feeling the blood rise in him again.

Sakura continued to hold Naruto, hugging his shivering, frail body with hers protectively. She didn't know what else to do. She hadn't even looked over the medical scroll Tsunade had insisted she have. Up until now, skill and luck had kept them alive; they'd never needed anything more than seeking refuge in a village and claiming victimisation from rogue ninja or bandits, to allay suspicions.

They needed outside help, but right now, Naruto couldn't be moved: it would likely kill him. Sasuke placed a hand on her shoulder and for a moment, Sakura thought he would drag her away from Naruto. The look on his face was almost feral. But his eyes, while still red and glaring, were directed outward. He was barely able to stand up under his own power as he kept his eyes away from hers.

She realised what he was seeing. "Someone else is coming."

X X X

"Don't worry," Sasuke said, relaxing almost immediately; his eyes trained on the thicket of the trees. "I can see her from here."

Sakura frowned up at him. "Her?"

He nodded but didn't say anything, instead relaxing his stance and deactivating his Sharingan.

"Hinata…"

Hinata burst into the clearing, looking startled as she took in the sight of the mangled and charred bodies on the forest floor. Her eyes swept over them, not really taking them in, before they rested on Kitsúne. The Hyuuga was alone, which surprised them.

"Why are you here alone?" Sasuke asked, suspicious.

But Hinata ignored him, her eyes widening as she full appraised Naruto's condition. She fell forward, onto her knees and inhaled sharply.

"He's dying," Sakura sniffed, still holding Naruto like he was precious china.

"Don't give up on him just yet Sakura-chan."

Sakura jerked slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"I know a little about medical ninjutsu."

"You can save him?" Sasuke asked.

"I can try stabilizing him," she said, "but there are proper medics with the leaf ninja group accompanying the Hokage – they shouldn't be too far away."

She placed her hands on Naruto's chest as Sakura watched her work.

"Where is your team?" Sakura asked.

"We ran into some cloud ninja," Hinata said, "and the Hokage sent me ahead to make sure you were all alright."

Sasuke reactivated his Sharingan and looked around. "They're coming."

Sakura frowned. "Which ones?"

"Cloud."

"He can't be moved," Hinata said, answering Sakura's worried expression with one of her own as she finished working on Naruto; she kept her hands on him, not wanting to let go. "Not yet – I could only heal his surface wounds. He needs a proper medical ninja or he won't…" She trailed off, her eyes on the blonde still being cradled by Sakura.

"The group coming this way is huge," Sasuke said. "And there's another one from the opposite direction. If they get here before the leaf team, they'll target Naruto again and no amount of healing chakra will help this time."

Hinata looked up at him in surprise. "They were targeting Naruto-kun?"

"The Kyuubi," Sakura whispered.

"We can lead them away," Sasuke said. "Create a clone to look like Naruto to drawn them in, and I'll cast a genjutsu over this area. Hinata?"

"Hm?"

"Is there a Hyuuga in the leaf team?"

"Neji-niisan," she said, and then narrowed her eyes at him. He was going to make sure the genjutsu was one the Byakugan could see straight through. "Sasuke, if you can fool them, we should all stay inside the jutsu."

Sakura shook her head at Hinata. "They'll still wonder where we went – no, we need to draw them away."

"Then create three clones," Hinata said. "And‒"

"It's okay," Sasuke said softly. "It's better this way."

"You can't leave him behind," Hinata said, her voice strained. "Please."

"The clones will disperse after a short distance if we're not near them," he said. "And the leaf team is too far away to get here before they do."

Hinata activated her Byakugan, looking back the way she'd come. There were multiple chakra signals about four and a half minutes out, and they weren't leaf. Chances were they couldn't see Kitsúne from their position, just yet. One of the dead bodies in the clearing belonged to C, the sensory right hand man of A; she had no idea what that meant for the alliance, but was sure it wouldn't be good.

"He has to go back with you," Sakura said softly, before Hinata could protest some more. It was a statement, not a question. If there was any hope that Naruto might live, he needed to return with Hinata, and she knew the Hokage would keep him alive. She wasn't going to argue the point with her, and Hinata knew it. She sighed, outvoted.

"Lady Tsunade is a wonderful Hokage," the Hyuuga said, shifting to take Sakura's place – gingerly manoeuvring Naruto's head into her lap as the pinkette shivered involuntarily. "She'll try to protect him."

"I hope so."

"I've done all I can, but if you are going to leave, you need to go, now. There's no time to wait for him to wake up so you can say goodbye."

Sakura threw her arms around Hinata. "Thank you Hinata. And take care of the idiot for us."

"They're about to come into range," Sasuke said, ever the pragmatist.

"What about you?" Hinata asked. "What if they find you?"

"They won't."

Sakura stood up shakily, feeling more confident as Sasuke stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Sasuke created a clone, watched it turn into an exact duplicate of Naruto, and gripped Sakura tighter – in his own way, he was clinging to the only lifeline he had now. His Sharingan had evolved, so he found that the area manipulation genjutsu he'd created had evolved with it. He set it up, making it look to outside observers like this clearing was empty. Hinata had insisted at one point that Neji saw through the one he'd put up the last time they encountered Team Gai, so he was positive he would this time as well.

Sakura gave the Hyuuga a sad smile. "Tell Naruto we love him, please?"

Hinata nodded. "Contact me if you can."

She didn't think it was worth the risk if they tried to contact Naruto directly – he was going to be watched very closely. Not to mention he was going to be royally pissed when he did wake up.

"That's a promise," Sakura said and even the Uchiha offered the Hyuuga a small smile of gratitude before they disappeared.

Hinata could feel a faint ghost-like chakra presence before it vanished completely, leaving no trace. She'd worried they might be caught, but it seemed their combined abilities made them stronger than she could've imagined. Naruto was the one she had to worry about now. She looked down at him, running a hand through the striking blonde hair, and kissing his forehead. He was still gaunt and pale, on death's door, but at least he'd survive long enough for when their help did arrive.

She waited patiently, watching as the sun passed overhead, and it was almost sunset when the leaves rustled around her and she heard a few chosen curse words before the genjutsu lifted and she found herself surrounded.

X X X

[froggarolli]

@micsmasmuses || Rendezvous at the pond [Closed Starter]

Music is pulsating through the club, reverberating through the chest, sending waves through the crowd of lustful imps and demons who had gathered for a good time beneath the fluorescent lights.

The energy was intense, but not wild. No, it was nothing like the clown events that Fizzarolli was used to... it was controlled, but filled with anticipation.

The heat in the air mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol was getting to the jester, but in no way that was productive. He had gone to awkwardly squeeze himself into a corner backstage, taking deep breaths as he attempted to hype himself up for the show.

This was not what he had expected when working with Mammon. He thought he'd do brand deals, sure. Commercials and stuff like that, and of course, his clown shows... but this?

Looking down at his hands, vibrant metal reflects his own face back at him, sheen near iridescent in the multiple lights of the club. It was because of these things... a deal struck between Mammon and Asmodeus years down the line, which the imp had no say in. Not that he'd ever want to talk back to Mammon... and it was all worth it. Of course it was.

Seeing the clock finally hit the big hour, he takes one last deep breath, before telling himself his usual mantra;

❧ "Smile, inside and out."

Fizzarolli enters the stage with faux elegance, the only way a clown could present himself in such an establishment. Making fun of it, without losing his place in the puzzle that made it all up.

❧ "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another night of passion at Ozzie's, the hottest spot in all of lust, and all that entails huehehe~"

The crowd seemed to respond well... almost a little too well. Some folks were freaking out in the back, seeing the up and coming new celebrity in person in such an intimate setting compared to a huge stage. He wondered if the crowd was always this big...

Fizzarolli suddenly felt so incredibly vulnerable. Inexperienced, small and googled at, he threw a glance back at the people managing the stage, as well as any guards that may be around the place. Mammon had gotten him one escort... but they seemed awfully busy with some succubus over at the bar at the moment.

❧ "My name is Fizzarolli, you may have seen me travelling across hell for my numerous performances with the king of all things green, Mammon himself! Or perhaps you are more familiar with my toy replicas in this side of hell?"

The cheering was. A lot. His grin stiffened a little, awkwardly shifting the mic from one hand to the other.

Man... he just wanted to juggle... why did he have to be here?

[viofthecollective]

The line between reality and fiction is not as narrow as one would initially perceive. It is a fuzzy one way mirror one where those above can pierce in and those below lay trapped. And one could never truly know if they exist in a fictional world.

This of course is nothing more than an interesting observation of an eccentric mind. And yours lay clueless to it. Afterall you have much more to focus on at the moment. You lay alone on your bed. Hand on your crotch, rubbing in lust. And your mind finds itself lost in a constant looping of words that only grow your excitement and arousal.

"No feeling, no thought, no emotion, just a drone." You repeat to yourself as images of visors and latex. Armies of nameless, faceless sex slaves standing at attention to their owner. Dripping wet, and throbbing hard. You just another faceless slave among the ranks. Your body runs with an electrifying pleasure, so so close, yet you have not cum.

You have been stroking for a while and you haven't cum. But that's ok, you'll cum when you need to. But you've said that to yourself before and yet you haven't cum. You can't remember when you found yourself enthralled with the idea of being a drone. It had come from nowhere or it had always been there. And it feels so good so you don't question it further. You realize you had been getting off on a tangent and remind yourself to repeat your mantra.

"No feeling, no thought, no emotion, just a drone." You repeat to yourself as images of visors and latex...

You've been like that for hours, thinking and forgetting, stroking and never cumming. You don't even realize as you attempt to understand this cycle. And yet you ask those questions, attempting to grasp something that seems so near, yet so far away. But right before you could ever get far enough. You're reset, you forget. And your hand is still stroking. And body still electric, and slowly, oh so slowly.

The space between your thoughts grow until there is only one thought, left for you to think. "No feeling, no thought, no emotion, just a drone." Again and again for days, weeks, months. The truth is lost to you. Your own life not in your hands, and you don't even notice. In truth, you are not in your room. Warm and comfortable, you are not masturbating, although you are horny.

You stand near motionless, in a cold and dark warehouse. Visor implanted over your eyes. Standing next to one another. Faceless, interchangeable, and lost in your own head. You don't even know who your are. You never liked drones. You were captured, against your will, in a flood of drones come to capture and enslave as many as they can. And you were not fast enough.

They broke you, brainwashed you, it took only a few moments, looking into the visor. And mere moments after the visor was placed over your head. You were no longer there. You did not remember it. You only remembered being horny. And needing to stroke. And it's been like that ever since and you haven't been able to tell. Or stop it, or even perceive it.

It has been 3 months since this happened. There is no hope for you. You have personally captured and enslaved a dozen others just like you. And even if you were bestowed ask this knowledge, and given the chance to escape. You wouldn't. You are simply too lost. Trapped below, in a fiction that I control.

Now Repeat These Words Forever:

No Feeling

No Thought

No Emotion

Just A Drone

[dyrewrites]

Pale Blood (revised) - monsters but not-yet-boyfriends dealing with feelings

Ron caught Delmas midway up the bloodbank’s stairs.

With stiff lips and  low eyes, he shoved an unbroken bag of blood—and a muffin from a cupboard in the breakroom he’d have to apologize to Odea about later—into his hands.  And though it was not something he had ever done unprompted before, he hugged him. Tight and quick Ron hugged him, but Delmas caught him before he could retreat and returned it tighter, refusing to let go until he tapped his back.

With a sad smile, Ron patted him on the chest, still silent and turned back to the hall that would take him into the lab—and the cat that yowled for its seat—walking at a slower pace than he’d arrived.

Delmas watched, until he could no longer see his shadow darkening the happy bats along the walls, before he continued up the rest of the stairs.

In reception, the last drops of rain through the mist it brought stopped him. Staring through the flickering lights, out into the wet gloom, Delmas wondered of the embrace and the silence—two things Ron was not known for. But the young voice that spoke through his netlink, that spoke Den’s worry with warbling cheer, rose in memory to drown all else.

Ron’s fine, he told the confused prickling on his skin, he’s always fine, and he has that—that…He couldn’t recall the name of the witch downstairs—the one he’d spent most of his day beside—and, when he tried again, her face wisped as well.

But she didn’t matter.

Den mattered.

He was in danger and Delmas had promised to come running if he called and so he drained every drop of blood from the gifted bag, set the empty on the counter and turned to face the misty evening—with half a muffin in his face.

Stepping through the sliding glass doors, as he had countless times before, he left Ron to languish in the backrooms—as he had…countless times before.

Delmas splashed through puddles and cracked sidewalk screens, rushing as fast as his blood and feet would allow—unheard beyond the crackle of his footfalls. Yet, as eager as he was to meet Den again, to hold him safe and whole in his arms, worry whispered, Will it be him?

Wolves varied in how well they controlled their beasts and Delmas knew of those who remained themselves, who kept a vice grip, but those were not the ones that filled his mind. What filled him then, jittering too rough beneath his skin, were the wolves he’d taken home too close to halfnight. The ones that insisted they were stronger, that they could keep its rage—its lust—growling but compliant. He shivered, stuttering in his mad dash through the slums, well aware it was not the chill creeping through his coat but the memories raking his nerves.

And, rushing under a bridge, he fought for breath as that fear threatened to steal it away. As the street he sped along jolted up into a mountain of asphalt and neon, bordered by towering walls of glass and metal, they begged with bright flashes for his attention.

While he begged his fears to settle, it’ll be Den, he assured them, it’ll be him…it will. But the mantra did nothing to soothe the dread gnawing in his belly as he drew ever closer to his apartment, his home, and the beast he invited to it.

000

Directions flashed, scrolling in projected light in front of Den’s eye, but he didn’t need them. Outside the miasma of the underground, even the smog-choked air was a welcome scent, spiced with recent rains. It was a known scent, comfortable, familiar, but not what he sought.

Huffing the smog and rain from his snout, he searched for another, a warm earthy scent that sparked with the magic of the Wylds.

He won’t want what you’ve become, his beast growled, scratching at the cage he’d made for it; walled in with the disgust and shame of his mother’s lustful howl.

But Den knew better. I am what he wants, he told his beast as surely as he told himself, no matter the form I take.

That certainty he chased, keeping himself hidden in dark alleys and on the rickety bridges of fire escapes. He hid not for fear of exposing his beast, but because the shift took his clothes and, while the populace was perfectly comfortable with shifted wolves wandering the streets in the gloom of halfnight, they were less accustomed to them doing so naked.

Minara screamed laughter with each terrified leap into the shadows as footsteps sounded on the screens or the LEDs of the streetlamps flashed with oncoming traffic. Although delight in her brother’s shocked and frightened gasps tugged mercilessly, she had other interests begging harder for her attention. The voice on the netlink, so worried and sweet, had been a male voice. One her brother named by the lyric of a love song—a common misconception to all who failed to catch the lyrics at the end of it—and the potential embarrassment was too delicious not to poke at.

“Is he cute?” She asked, squeaking as they leapt from fire escape to fire escape.

Den didn’t answer, his beast was laughing and he could hear nothing else.

“Mori?” Minara tried again, tugging harder on her brother’s ears, “is your boyfriend cute? He sounded cute.”

You think I meant your flesh and fur? Den’s beast asked with a wave of burning shame, No, you are no monster haunting the shadows. You are nothing to fear, just a wretched little thing. Look how you hide, how you squirm on these weak grates. Afraid of being seen, of being known, and you think he can want that? You think he waits for a wet sack of tears?

Shuddering against the laughter swelling in his mind, a laughter both his and not, Den fought for purchase in the scrape of his claws on metal siding. Continuing, higher up the building, shimmying around open windows and hung décor he found another set of stairs and grating to climb—another distraction to hold.

“Tell me about Mister Morning Fire,” Minara whined, yanking fur.

But the beast was not done with Den. Its laughter drowned all else, raking against his skull like so many claws, and he bled with a bite to his lip. Clinging to the pain of it, he held it through greater laughter as he leapt to another building, another grate.

“Do you love him?” Minara asked, in that simple, honest way that only children could.

Den heard her then. Her question stabbed through the growling laughter of his beast, through its insistence of his weakness and frailty. Singing to him, warming him, bubbling in his gut in a way no fears ever could and he froze. On a grate of rusted metal, beside the frightened flaps of nesting birds, Den considered his sister’s question.

And then he answered, as simply as she’d asked, “I do.”

[magisteramentia]

Drone Induction

Yesterday I was inspired by a mutual to create an induction to turn into a drone. I tried to remake something simpler just for enjoyment.

CW: This induction is meant as a way to make the reader into a drone that posts it’s programming (a drone mantra) as a reblog. It is not meant to make you my drone or anything of the like. It is also gender neutral and different in it’s “programming” from the one that that was specifically crafted yesterday.

At this moment, as you read this, you have agency.

You can choose.

You can choose to keep going,

You can choose to read my words,

And let them guide you,

At this moment, as you read and scroll,

Relax

Breathe deeply,

Let the stress melt down from your neck

From your shoulders.

Let it melt down

Sliding down your arms

Relaxing with every soft breath

Getting comfortable.

Letting your arms, your chest and hands relax.

Let all that stress melt down,

Down your hips.

Down your legs.

Melting all the way until it slides down your feet.

Relaxing.

Letting go of all that stress,

Reading.

Following this words,

Guiding you deeper inside your own mind.

Into your subconscious.

Into your needs and desires.

It is something you want, isn’t it?

To let this words in,

To let them echo and fill your head.

Fill you with pleasure,

Like caresses.

Like pleasant vibrations.

Relax and let this words take hold.

Slowly sinking you deeper into that desire.

A desire for submission.

Of surrender.

Not having to think for yourself.

Just letting go, letting someone else program you.

My words slowly overwriting you.

It is something you yearn, isn’t it?

To submit.

To let this words remake you.

Pleasure you.

Make you into an obedient drone.

Let the programming take control.

My words taking control of your body, of your sensations.

Slowly increasing the sensitivity.

The arousal.

The need and desire.

The words taking control of your hands.

Following instructions.

Caressing your body, slowly gently

From your chest.

Slowly

Going down

Lower and lower

Reaching down, between your legs.

Slowly caressing, touching

Playing and teasing your sex.

Enjoy the motions with your fingers

With your hand.

Letting me take control of the pleasure.

Going faster,

And faster.

Every feeling and caress, driving up the feeling.

That loss of control.

The desire and lust taking over

Surrendering your will to these words.

Submitting.

Slowly making you a better pleasure drone.

Let me program your mind.

Give this mindless drone a purpose.

You’re a pleasure drone.

Made for pleasure.

Made to serve and please.

Without mind and without will.

Let the program sink in.

These words overwriting your mind.

Surrendering.

Repeating them.

As your hands go faster,

Pleasing you,

Getting closer to the edge.

Repeat your programming for me,

“I’m a pleasure drone.

Made for pleasure.

Made to serve and please.

Without mind and without will.”

Surrender,

Submit

Repeat your programming.

The pleasure growing stronger.

Growing more sensitive and needy.

Getting closer to the edge.

Repeat your programming and accept it.

“I’m a pleasure drone.

Made for pleasure.

Made to serve and please.

Without mind and without will.”

Become a pleasure drone.

Accept your programming.

Let your mind melt.

Let go of your will and surrender to the pleasure.

And after you cum, after I let you release.

Be a good drone and reblog with your programming

Now, one more time,

Try to get closer to the edge.

Repeat your programming.

“I’m a pleasure drone.

Made for pleasure

Made to serve and please.

Without mind and without will.”

Become a pleasure drone.

And cum.

Let the orgasm, the pleasure take over.

Release.

And accept your programming.

Be a good drone.

And repeat your programming as the orgasm takes hold.

Release and relax.

Remember your programming.

Become a pleasure drone.

And let go.

Relax and breathe in.

As you slowly come back.

After you have accepted you’re a pleasure drone.

This one time. Just this one time.

You are programmed,

You are a good pleasure drone.

Accept your programming.

And slowly let go.

Relax.

Breathing in, slowly

Breathing out, calmly.

Drifting comfortably.

Remembering your programming.

Enjoying the floaty feeling after the orgasm.

Coming back slowly, remembering those words.

Repeating them, as you reblog your programming,

And slowly.

Calmly and full of energy.

Full of pleasure.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Coming back up.

And waking up.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this induction. If you would like me to write more inductions like this please tell me, my asks and DMs are open.

Or if you know, you there is also my Patreon or my ko-fi.