#only with stage hypnosis

[jounetsunosymphonia]

You're a friend.

old-ish sasasama based on shoujo rei and inspired by just an absolutely insane number from stage where tdd-era samatoki has a fever dream about sasara

edit: I FORGOT THE.

[7-7-cherry]

Rio day!!!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Mesmerized.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.8k.

TW: Hypnosis, Unhealthy Relationships, General Lose of Autonomy, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

“You’re getting crueler, brother.”

Lynette watched you stir at the sound of her voice, nearly identical to that of your dearly beloved, but you slackened as soon as you realized it was only his sister, melting back into place against Lyney’s side. Your expression was one of vacant bliss; all glassy eyes and careless smiles, worry only visible in the dark circles laced under your eyes, the pained creases folded into either corner of your mouth. A poor imitation, altogether. You looked more like yourself when you were angry.

Lyney hummed, resting his head on your shoulder. As if trained to, you cooed softly and raised a hand, carding your fingers through his hair as he spoke, self-satisfaction heavy in his voice. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Is it cruel to want to spend time with one’s dearly cherished?”

“Father said not to let the public see them until—”

“—until we’ve fallen in love,” Lyney finished. It was a clipped summary, to say the least. In reality, Lord Arlecchino’s order had played more closely to the tune of ‘until you’ve collared your pet properly’, but admittedly, Lynette might’ve missed something. She and Freminet had been listening from the other side of a steel door, and Lyney hadn’t been eager to discuss their conversation after her lecture ended. “And I’m sure, if you bothered to ask, you’d already know that we’re quite in love. Aren’t we, beautiful?”

“Quite in love,” you parroted. There was something strange about your inflection, as if you were trying to speak in a language you hadn’t yet mastered, but Lynette chose not to dwell on it.

“And I’d hardly call this the public,” Lyney went on, when Lynette made it clear that she had yet to be impressed. He made a quick, sweeping gesture to the rest of the backstage area – as if the technicians and stage-hands rushing between lighting rigs and half-assembled props were no more real than the silhouetted figures painted onto the set dressing they were hauling into place. “Think of it as… a trial run, to see how much we’ve improved. If everything goes well tonight, perhaps we’ll be able to attend Father’s next banquet together, too. I’ve been dying to introduce them to the rest of our family – preferably without all the screaming and biting, this time.”

That, Lynette could admit, would probably be for the best. She still had a bruise in the shape of your teeth on her left wrist from the day she’d met you, but Lyney still claimed it’d been one of your better first impressions.

“I’ve always wanted to see one of your shows.” You were cupping Lyney’s face, now, using your thumb to draw tender circles into his cheek. “I’ve always loved the opera. You’re playing the male lead, right?”

Lynette pursed her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she turned her attention pointedly towards her brother. He looked away. “I’m still working out the kinks. By this time next week, it should all be right as rain.”

Reluctantly, Lynette let her attention shift back to you. Your sleeves were long, dense with lace and tulle, but a patch of reddened, raw skin where the shackle had been wrapped around your wrist was just barely visible underneath the frivolous material. There was a slight tremble in your stiff shoulders, and when she looked closely, she could see that you were swaying; your legs weak from disuse, barely able to hold your own weight. Her brother, on the other hand – she could remember the last time she’d seen him smiling so widely. He been in a state of pure, untethered euphoria since the moment you were dragged, kicking and swearing, into one of the Fatui’s lesser-used underground holding facilities, and she rarely saw him without a glint in his eye and a light flush painted over her cheeks. It was almost upsetting, to see a face so much like her own so distorted. If she hadn’t been so used to his sudden flurries of passion, she might’ve been disturbed.

“It can’t last.” Lyney straightened, but she didn’t give him a chance to cut in. “The—the trance, I mean. You’re a magician, not a hypnotist. It’s going to wear off, eventually.”

“I’ve always hated stage magic,” you muttered, dreamily. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I hate feeling like I’m the only person who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t need to last forever, just long enough.” This time, it was Lyney who caught your chin in his hand, pulling you just close enough for a quick, shallow kiss. Lynette looked away before she could be forced to endure yet another unabashed show of affection, but she could still hear him far too clearly when he spoke seconds later, his voice now nearly distant as your own.

“Until we both manage to forget how we could ever live apart.”

[cactus-of-the-dead]

Danjo's legs are skinny as fuck and I do not like this enough to change it

[malleleothreesome]

Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand. 

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property. 

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic? 

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater. 

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous. 

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air. 

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this. 

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest. 

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined. 

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor. 

Fellow feels his pants tighten. 

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will. 

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show. 

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks. 

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful. 

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream. 

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes. 

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates. 

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront. 

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll." 

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours." 

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

[hyperfixatedbastard]

do you write hypnosis stuff?? it's not specifically against the rules but idk it's kind of an iffy era for a lot of writers-

if it's okay with you, could you write some Vox x Singer!Reader who he uses his mind control on to sell their soul to him so they remain under the VoxTek label? (im sure remaining with him is an ulterior motive of his as well lol)

thanks :]

I can absolutely do that! I’m a little iffy about NSFW hypnosis, but I can do a SFW oneshot :)

siren songs

Obsessed!Vox x Singer!GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

WARNINGS: Yandere-ish behavior, hypnosis, manipulation, toxic behavior, all that good stuff

A/N: I told y'all I'd be back with some toxic Vox!! I wasn't entirely sure how to end this one, but I've spent enough time rewriting it to stop caring. This one is only romantic in theory - nothing actually romantic happens between Vox and Reader, it's more mutual pining than anything else This is also my first time writing obsessive behavior, so I hope I did it well!

Dividers

You’ve been working with the Vees for years now. You were originally recruited by Velvette, who’s like a bloodhound for new talent. She saw some popular videos of your singing online, and she made you famous.

But you don’t work with her that much, oddly enough. Over time, you gradually started to see her less and less. Vox was the one to take her place. By the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it—you’re certainly not an equal to the Vees, so there wasn’t much you could do. Sure, you could’ve quit then and there, as you’d never signed a soul-binding contract, but you really liked your job. You were getting to do what you loved for a living! Who wouldn’t want that?

Well, you. You don’t want that anymore. You’re getting burnt out. You feel like you’re out of creativity for writing songs, and singing no longer has the same appeal it used to. It feels like a chore. Getting on stage doesn’t get you excited—it just fills you with dread.

Then you saw the videos of the annual clown pageant down in the Greed Ring. How Fizzarolli, Mammon’s favorite little jester, just…quit. Just like that. 

Can you do that?

You don’t have backup like Fizzarolli did. There’s no Prince of Hell to protect you if the Vees lash out in response to your resignation. But the Vees aren’t Mammon. They’re powerful Overlords, sure, but they wouldn’t kill off an easy cash grab like you. And they don’t have any leverage to use against you—you’re a fucking superstar, you learned to stop keeping secrets a long time ago.

Yeah, you can totally do this!

You spend the next week making a plan. You currently live in V Tower, so finding another living arrangement is a priority. Luckily, your standards are just as low as before you got famous, so snatching up an apartment doesn’t take long. You’ve been building up savings for some time now, just little bits here and there that wouldn’t look suspicious among your bank withdrawls, so you have enough money to last you a while. You’ve made a go-bag, but you’re not too worried about bringing anything with you, as you have enough cash to just buy new shit. By the time the end of the week comes around, you’ve got your escape plan ready to go. All that’s left is to actually quit.

You decide that directly speaking to Vox is your best option. Velvette and you don’t have the same rapport that you used to, and Valentino is just… no. During your time working with Vox, you like to think there’s some sort of friendship there. The two of you chat amicably, and he always makes sure you’re okay when it comes to creepy fans and the like. You feel like there could be something more than just friendship, but you don’t plan on staying long enough to find out. As much as you like Vox, you’re not willing to spend the rest of your afterlife hating every second of your job just for him.

You stand outside Vox’s lair, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation. You take a deep breath, and right before you can knock on the door, it opens.

Okay, here goes.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You aren’t as sneaky as you seem to think you are.

A normal boss wouldn’t have noticed the small transactions in your bank account, or the little trips you’ve been taking to go look at apartments. But Vox isn’t a ‘normal boss’ by any means. And he noticed.

From the moment Vox set eyes on you, he knew he wanted you. You’re beautiful, and fuck, your voice—he just can’t get you out of his damn head, no matter how hard he tries. And he really fucking tried. But he couldn’t avoid you, thanks to VoxTek being such an integral part of your performances. And you’re like a damn siren with that voice of yours, even though he’s supposed to be the hypnotizing one here. Eventually, he just gave in and accepted that he was more than a little obsessed with you. That’s why he started drawing you closer to him, pushing away Velvette and taking control of your brand. He doesn’t like sharing.

Obsession isn’t a particularly new feeling for Vox. He certainly has… tendencies. But this isn’t like whatever the fuck he’s got going on with that deer-headed, old-timey bastard Alastor. It’s not a lust thing, either. You’re certainly attractive, and Vox most definitely would sleep with you, but that’s not the main factor at play here. This is a deeper obsession than any of that bullshit.

Vox knows that he doesn’t own your soul. He’s well aware that he can’t truly stop you from quitting. Even if he managed to trap you inside V Tower, he can’t force you to keep up the performances. If he had you under a proper soul-binding contract, though…

He would own you.

Now, he’s not Valentino. He doesn’t plan to take that kind of advantage over you. He doesn’t want to change a damn thing. He just wants you to stay.

And he will make you stay.

He knows when you approach his office, and he opens the doors with the touch of a button on his desk. He plasters that casually perfect smile on his screen and turns to face you as you enter. The doors shut behind you.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, my dear,” he lies easily, the charismatic mask fitting into place like it was never absent in the first place. “How can I help you?”

You hesitate, your anxiety starting to get to you. But you’re determined to do this. You clear your throat and step forward. “I’m resigning.”

Vox’s smile doesn’t falter, nor does his screen glitch. His demeanor is…unnerving, to say the least. You’ve known him to be temperamental, emotional. You expected some kind of reaction. But he’s just smirking at you like he always does.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to change your mind,” he replies smoothly, tilting his head to the side just slightly.

“No,” you confirm, trying to sound confident in your answer. You’re not sure if you succeed. “I’ve already made my decision.”

Vox sighs, though he doesn’t sound very defeated. His smirk hasn’t gone away, either. “Well, then. It’s been a pleasure working with you, darling.”

He holds his hand out for you to shake. The gesture immediately worries you, as it’s the well-known sign of a deal. But you reassure yourself that there’s no deal being made here. Hell may be chaotic, but there’s rules when it comes to these kinds of things. Neither of you have offered anything, therefore there’s no harm in shaking his hand. It’s just a respectful gesture of a boss wishing their employee farewell. It all feels too easy, but you’re too relieved to think too hard about it.

You go to take his hand, but as you lift your head up to meet his gaze, everything goes fuzzy.

Vox grabs you by your wrist before you can shake his hand. He’s not rough with you. He’s careful of his claws, ensuring they don’t put too much pressure on your skin. Not that you’d notice, either way—your mind is far gone at this point, thanks to those spirals in his eye.

“In exchange for your soul, you’ll remain under the VoxTek label and continue working for me. Your work will remain the same as before. You’ll forget about leaving. You will want to stay here. You will want to stay here with me.”

A golden scroll appears out of thin air, and it floats in front of you as it unfurls. “Sign it.”

Your body moves on its own. You sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page.

Vox releases your wrist, and takes your hand in his own as his eye reverts back to its normal state. When you come to just moments later, he’s shaking your hand with calm professionality.

“I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Vox remarks smoothly, his smirk looking almost proud now. “I look forward to your next performance, my dear.”

You blink a few times as you become more lucid and aware. “Uh, yeah. Can’t wait!”

You smile, and Vox releases your hand, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You don’t remember what exactly you came in here for, but you’re happy with the outcome.  “Perfect.”

[dr-spectre]

I saw this really great thread on twitter by Grungygrim and it definitely highlights my thoughts and frustrations with the story of these games and the Splatoon fandom as a whole. (be forewarned, i get really tilted in this blog post fyi.)

I made a blog post about 2 weeks ago where i said that i was happy that the narrative online that "Callie is an idiot who got kidnapped and then brainwashed/mind controlled against her consent" is going away. (Here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/dr-spectre/749710338672525312/im-so-happy-that-the-narrative-online-that?source=share)

Unfortunately I'm gonna have to retract a lot of the stuff i said. I'm still seeing, TILL THIS DAY THAT NARRATIVE ONLINE! IM STILL SEEING SO MUCH MISINFORMATION AND IT MAKES ME REALLYYYY ANGRYYYY!!! As a big fan of Callie, people completely outright ignoring her character arc THAT WAS SET UP SINCE SPLATOON 1 BY THE WAY!!! and not even bothering to look at outside sources for more information and lore genuinely pisses me the fuck off to no end.

No, hypnosis is NOT MIND CONTROL/BRAINWASHING! I DONT WANNA KEEP REPEATING IT! YOU CAN LOOK IT UP! if a person is genuinely uncomfortable and doesn't wish to take the suggestions to heart while hypnotized, THEY WONT DO SO! THEY STILL HAVE CONTROL! Yes, Marie did say "kidnapped" in some of her dialogue, but from her perspective, OF COURSE SHE'S GONNA THINK CALLIE GOT KIDNAPPED! She's known to worry about Callie all the time and ruminate about her, of course she's gonna think of the worst case scenario, doesn't mean she's right though. Was Octavio still in the wrong for hypnotizing Callie in the first place and allowing her to bring out her darker traits more easily? YEAH! NO SHIT! HE'S A BAD DUDE! Not a totally evil person but he has made some awful decisions out of desperation for his people. Why do you think he was so quick to help out the New Squidbeak Splatoon in the finale of Splatoon 3? His people got turned into fluffy monsters by a giant bear, he's all about helping his people.

Hell look at how Callie acts while under the Hypnoshades, she decorates Octo Canyon and her peppy and energetic self is still in tact even during the final boss, she's just more mean and violent. Callie was in an emotional and mentally unwell situation due to her overworking herself and being incredibly lonely as her relationship with Marie was damaged overtime. Callie accepted the suggestions of DJ Octavio and heard him out, AS SAID BY HER FROM THE RELATIONSHIP CHART! She wasn't forced into anything. She didn't suffer "sexual abuse" from Octavio by being forced into skippy clothing as some psychos say online, if she didn't want to wear that outfit she wouldn't cause hypnosis is NOT MIND CONTROL!! I hate having to repeat this over and over again, i hate how the developers basically rushed and ruined this interesting villain arc with stupid shades, only to try and hastily fix it later with an obscure post about A GOD DAMN RELATIONSHIP CHART THAT PEOPLE EITHER DONT KNOW ABOUT OR DONT CARE TO LOOK AT BECAUSE THEY SEE SPLATOON AS SOMETHING FOR KIDS AND TO NOT GIVE ANY CARE TOWARDS!!!!!!!!

I made a god damn giant blog explaining Callie in Splatoon 2 because i felt so frustrated about how my favorite character in the series was being treated and i tried to salvage the story that the writers tried to make. The way that people made her situation worse by saying she got kidnapped and forcibly ""mind controlled/brainwashed"" actually gave me chest pain, thinking about that kind of scenario for Callie actually hurts me... Heck i cant even listen to the Splatoon 2 stage music or final boss music because hearing her reversed vocals makes me feel uncomfortable due to the misinformation online. I hated all the misinformation and i wanted it to stop. HELL EVEN IN GIANT TIMELINE VIDEOS WHERE PEOPLE DO TONS OF RESEARCH THEY STILL GET IT WRONG!! UGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! i guess it'll still be the common and popular notion that Callie is an idiot that got kidnapped and then ""mind controlled"" by some shades... oh well... ugh...

I'm sorry if I'm coming off as really angry, i am. It's just, my brain is really hyperfixated on this squid and she means a lot to me. Seeing the way the fandom as well as the writers treat her makes me really mad. I hope i can find some peeps who feel the same way as i do. Misinformation is so frustrating man... i dont even wanna get into the Octarians because that's a whole other can of worms... anyways im done ranting. have a good night or good morning wherever you live y'all.

[liennka]

Another tragedy in your pitiful collection of plays

Interview with the Vampire characters x gn reader

Summary: you witness the tragedy that happened that day in the Theatre des vampires and tell your side of story to Molloy…(s2e7)

-> This one is pure angst and rage, I am open to any criticism (be nice pls) and I hope you like it :)

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

I've never been so scared. As if the whole world pressed against me, its weight crushing my chest, squeezing my heart. As if I was suffocating, my lungs empty, squeezing my windpipe. One look at the stage and my heart threatened to burst, yet I couldn't tear my eyes from their faces. Madeleine's blank gaze, her pale skin covered in blood darker than her lipstick. Claudia's resigned sneer, her mouth open, always ready to defend herself. Louis' furrowed brows, one eye slightly swollen. The smell of blood everywhere. Just another batch of strawberry syrup with dye for the people watching, even for me in other situations, but today it was the blood of my friends. Reeking of metal and bitterness, flowing straight from their hearts, poured onto the floor from their mutilated heels. 

I could not hear what they were saying. What made Claudia stand up and gasp with pain, what made Luis fall to the ground. No pre-written words from Santiago, no laughter from the people, no retelling of Lestat's life, no music.  My head was silent, only Armand's whispering, a voice that was familiar, a voice that lulled me to sleep. His powers that immobilized my body, his pity, his reassurances. My mind was clouded. Inside I was aware of what was happening, the fear and disgust, I wanted to scream, wanted to get out. But Armand did not. I could feel tears streaming down my face, but not my muscles… Then all the whispering stopped.  

"Banishment!" The crowd shouted in unison, in unprecedented desperation. The sound broke my hypnosis. What happened? I scanned the audience carefully, glancing at the man next to me. He sat behind the bars, giving the impression of a prisoner, but I knew very well that the only one holding him captive was himself. His inner self-degradation, his way of avoiding guilt. Why did Armand let me loose? What took his attention that even his love could not keep? Was it an unpredictable course of the play? Did the audience disappoint him?  He didn't move a hair, his eyes didn't flicker, his hands didn't clench. Still, someone had manipulated the crowd. If it wasn't him, then who? Lestat's ear was bleeding, his hand was shaking, and his eyes were red. It was him. Lestat. Armand wanted Luis dead.

"Is this what you wanted? Another tragedy in your pitiful collection of plays? Another reminder of your endless suffering?" I finally regained my voice and snapped at him, my hand gripping his arm. 

I've never been so mad.  As if the whole world was laughing, its ignorance signing the death penalty for these three vampires, the audience enjoying the show. As if they wore sunglasses while their skin burned. No, I was not mad at those fools in those seats, I was mad at the fool in my coupé, in a cage he designed himself. Watching a play he wrote himself.

"Louis!" Claudia yelled, clutching his shirt in despair, though there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

"You can still end it. This time you can say No", I begged Armand, I always begged. He just shook his head. "Not to the laws," he whispered. Luis's screams filled the backstage until it ceased altogether, stifled by the doors.

"Is this a revenge on Lestat? Is this a way to regain the power over your coven? Is this revenge on your coven?" I took a breath "This is not the way! For once, do not let others trample over you, swallow your wounded pride and let it go. This plan of yours will hurt all of us, not just them! This is a mistake!" my voice wavered, I was desperate. Out of the corner of my eye, Santiago was talking to the humans, warning them. So did I, warning Armand, pleading with him, threatening him.

"Stop," his cold tone pinned me to the ground again, literally.

"Let them live," I cried, unable to move.

"They broke the law, they committed a crime. You are being irrational" he looked into my eyes.

I knew they were criminals, but more importantly, they were my friends, two girls doomed from the moment they were born. If anyone deserved to live, it was these two.

"They don't deserve this, please!" The burgundy tears fell from my cheeks onto my white blouse, forever testifying my misery.

"'There's nothing I can do," he shrugged and turned towards the performance.

"Coward."

He did not react. The stage fell silent, all the actors retreating, pushing the two vampiresses forward, holding onto each other till their last breath. I do not know what their last words were, it belonged only to their ears.

The dark curtain began to draw . Claudia looked up for the last time, meeting my gaze and smiling. "I'm so sorry, Claudia," I sniffled, not accepting what was about to happen. "It's okay," I heard in my head, her voice rough but sweet. "'s not your fault." I choked on a sob. She was like Joan of Arc, ready to die, knowing she was right, knowing they had misjudged her, yet she did not give up on her ethics, kind till the end. She stopped smiling and glared at the whole room. "Follow the bouncing ball!" she mocked them, gently embracing Madeleine.

When the sun's rays hit them, Claudia shielded Madeleine with her body, but the newborn vampire did not know daylight, did not know the pain of a sunburn, because Claudia loved her, she never let her suffer like Louis and Lestat had let her. With a shriek, she fell to her knees, the ash from her body swirling through the air. Claudia's singing led Madeleine out of this world, and then herself. 

I've never felt such pain. As if the whole world ended, the lights went out, the music stopped. As if my heart had turned to stone, fallen out of my body, shattered into a million pieces. But the world didn't end, only their lives. The lights didn't go out, only their eyes, the music didn't stop, only their screams. They turned to dust, the dust we'll all turn to one day, human or not.  

I dropped on my hands and knees, nothing holding me down, but I stayed there anyway. My choked cries, muffled by the vampires watching, turned to wheezes and  wheezes turned to screams. I had never screamed that loud before, not on stage, not as a human, never. It was so loud my eardrums were bursting, I could feel my own blood on my tongue and my vision darkened. I heard the cracking of glass, the clattering of shards as they scattered across the floor, all the glass in the hall shattered. That was the power of  vampires. I hope Claudia saw it somewhere, and I hope I made everyone in the hall deaf. The last thing they would hear would be a cry of pain, haunting their conscience.

The people fell silent, waited, and then began clapping. They applauded death, they applauded violence, they applauded Armand's writing.  How humorous. He frowned at me. 

"Are you all right?" He asked. 

No, I wasn't all right. I wanted to gouge out his doe eyes, break every bone in his body, make him suffer, but I still cared about him. 

"How can you even ask?!" I growled at him, waving my hand at him. My fingernails left scars, sure, they would heal, but my words won't. "I hate you! You should have stayed a slave, not ruining people's lives!" I didn't mean that, did I? I don't know. I do know that Armand took it seriously. 

"That's enough." He grabbed my hand and then I didn't feel a thing. He shut me down, just like in the restaurant.

“Thats how it happened mister Molloy” I sat in a cafe with the interviewer.

“And tell me, how did you know he directed the play?” he asked, recording my voice again.

"In the café. He stood up and headed for another drink, but ended up at the door, I think. I found it odd, so I followed him. Followed his gaze as Santiago entered." I glanced down at my hands, mindlessly fiddling with Claudia's green necklace.

"They took my friends by force and covered their heads with sacks. They were shouting, I was shouting too. I demanded an explanation from Armand, to stop the madness. Instead, he embraced me, pulled me close, and told me to stop fighting. That he was saving us, saving himself. I asked...and I remember it like it was yesterday:'So you've chosen...you've chosen to suffer again?' and he said, 'Yes'. He said he wrote a play that would make everything right again."

“He didn't lie to you about the play? He never told Luis, you know?” Molloy asked

"Honestly, I don't know. I think he always saw himself as my brother, he knew that I could not leave to live on my own. That I would stay by his side. That I would always forgive him" I smiled a little

“Did you?” he smirked

“No, not this time. I do think he can be redeemed, but never forgiven, not by me.” I looked into Molloy’s eyes. “So, if you see him again, tell him to find me, it's been 70 years and we have stuff to discuss”  

[jounetsunosymphonia]

some ichikuus i drew after rewatching track 5. i'm so sorry

(context for the first one)

[scaredyspooks]

BG3 Kinktober 2024

Because I'm a perverted conduit that the void speaks through, I'm doing a Baldur's Gate 3 themed kinktober this year on here and AO3. As I publish the fics I'll be updating this list with links to them, and so y'all can gauge your interest here's the list!

Astarion (spawn) - roleplay - what's an innocent magistrate to do when his assistant propositions him when they're staying late at work?

Gale - pegging - growing bored of the wizard's endless accounts of how he and his goddess' bodies once intertwined, you notice there's one pleasure she never showed him.

Shadowheart - sensory depravation - life's greatest pleasures can be found in loss and darkness.

Lae'Zel - leather - peeling the leathers from your lover's body are one of the greatest rewards of battle.

Wyll - chastity - just because he wants to take things slow, doesn't mean you can't torment him a little.

Karlach - temperature play - attempts to cool her down end up having an interesting result.

Minthara - bondage - an interrogation goes south as you try to get to the bottom of the Absolute's cult.

Halsin - olfactophilia - after almost a tenday of not having time to bathe you head to the river, only be blocked off by a large elf.

Mizora - public - shrouded in the cloak of the hells atop a secluded pedestal, only to find it is in fact a stage.

Rolan - electro - someone's ego boost at getting a new tower has him coming out of his shell.

Zevlor - glory hole - the commander and the cleric need a release, things get interesting when the stranger behind the wall ends up being far too familiar.

Ikaron - semi-public - tensions are high in The Hollow, but you think you can help.

Raphael - naked platter - the devil has made a patisserie of you for his guests, though they seem to fade from existence as he grows distracted by the meal he's making of you.

Haarlep - size difference - the succubus is shocked that you want to see their true form, turns out they're a lot bigger than their master.

Rugan - impact play - the Zhentarim seeks to punish you for trying to skip out on your deal, he doesn't get very far.

Gortash - power play - your relationship has always been somewhat of a dance, one that you're determined to lead.

Dammon - edging - the forge's flames illuminate more than the smith realises, but you're happy to "help" once things quieten down.

The Emperor - hypnosis - the ilithid believes he can still get through to you, with one last attempt.

Aradin - hate fuck - your competitor, the thorn in your side, but damn if he doesn't have good stamina.

Abdirak - sado-masochism - two priests of Loviatar aid in each other's prayer.

He Who Was - free use - his ability to travel the shadowcursed lands unhindered has him popping up everywhere, making you pay for his insatiable desires.

Lia - wax play - after the first few drops, it's hard to tell what's blush and what's burn among the giggles in the Elfsong.

Cal - play fighting - a little extra training won't do any harm, though the proximity may prove... challenging.

Gale - findom - what starts as a simple shopping trip to Sorcerous Sundries takes a turn as you drag the wizard to more and more shops.

Astarion (ascended) - biting/marking - your last night as a mortal will be one to remember.

Shadowheart - human furniture - god's favourite princess needs a throne.

Wyll - roleplay - the son of a duke has a duty to mingle at these important events, though it usually shouldn't lead him to a cupboard with a handsome stranger.

Lae'Zel - predator/prey - your heart races, your breathing to quick to catch, and you know the more you sweat the easier it'll be for her to catch you.

Karlach - human ashtray - she's been making fun of you all evening for your drunken confession about her cigars, but once the other's go to bed she's happy to indulge you on the Elfsong's roof garden.

Halsin - breeding - ever the beast of nature, with your perils finally at an end he lets himself run loose with you and you realise it’s going to be a long night until he’s done filling you.

Minthara - body worship - the drow isn't keen onbeing nursed after but with injuries so severe you need to make sure she's alright.

[captainmalewriter]

The Long Game

I sat in the passenger seat of the car as I waited for my new boyfriend Steven to come back from the gas station. He came back after a couple of minutes and hopped into the driver's seat. I couldn't help but smile like a ninny as my handsome boyfriend jumped back behind the wheel. It was truly a happy moment for me, but I knew something that could make it even better!

"Hey babe?" I started. He turned to me with big puppy eyes, practically begging me to give him more of my attention. "It's kinda hot in here... Do you wanna take off your shirt? I bet you'll feel better!"

"You're right, my love, hold on a sec..."

I watched with a wide grin as he got out of the car and took off his shirt. He then got back in, now shirtless and body on full display.

"Hey babe? Have you been hitting the gym a lot lately? You're looking swole as fuck right now... do you wanna show off?"

Steven smirked, then proceeded to flex his muscular arms right in front of me. I had a clear view to the gun show and I was loving it!

It was crazy to think that it was only three short months ago Steven was dating my sister. We first met after she brought him to a family barbecue. I knew from the first time I laid eyes on him that I wanted him for myself.

And so, I got to work. Everytime I saw him, I made sure to leave subtle yet powerful subliminal messaging for him. I knew how to use my words and I knew how people worked on a psychological level. Put those things together, and I was a natural at hypnotizing others. I made sure to keep my hypnotic work on the downlow so nobody would notice what I was doing or that Steven was slowly but surely changing as he fell under my spell.

Hey Steven, wanna go work out with me?

Hey Steven, wanna go to the pool with me?

Hey bro, wanna spend more time with me?

Hey bro, wanna share a bed with me?

Hey, do you think you like boys too?

Hey, wanna go on a date?

Hey babe, wanna have some fun tonight?

I used phrases and questions like the ones above to lure him in. I had to make sure he kept his decision making power while I merely suggested things to him. That way, he wouldn't even notice he was falling under my hypnotic words! I also made sure to spread out my suggestions throughout a long period of time (about five months) before I started making real progress on my goal. What can I say, the power of suggestion was a waiting game, but it was a game I was a professional at!

It took a while but surely enough, I noticed the desired changes in Steven. As I went deeper with the hypnosis, Steven became much more comfortable with me. He became playful with how physically affectionate he was. Of course, because I was the one who became his object of desires, I was always showered by his shameless display of affection. Kinda like a puppy, but it was just the way I liked him.

At the final stage of hypnosis, he finally broke up with my sister and was incredibly ecstatic when I asked if he wanted to go out with me. His pupils had become incredibly dilated due to the hypnosis, but that'll go away with time. I'll also slowly stop suggesting things once he's fully settled in the role I gave him. It'll probably take another month or two. But in the meantime, we'll continue being the best, most-in-love boyfriends this world has ever seen!

"Hey babe, wanna make out in the back seats?"

"Of course, my love, I'd love that."

[drdemonprince]

Do you have any favourite scary movies?

I love the ambiguity and grief of The Orphanage, and the main character's emotional journey is absolutely gutting.

The Strangers has some of the most subtle, dread-inducing scares of any horror film of its era; if you liked the hidden ghosts in Mike Flanagan's Haunting of Hill House, it owes some inspiration to this film, I think. It truly gave me nightmares.

The newer Suspiria has really stayed with me, and I loved Flawed Peacock's analysis of the film on Youtube as well. I watched both this and the original back-to-back a few months ago, and they're both great in different ways, but nothing tops the haunting, sickening beauty of the end of this one.

28 Days Later is the only zombie movie for me, and yes part of that is because Cillian Murphy was so fuckable in it. I'll never forget the quiet, contemplative air of this movie, which is rivaled only by The Last of Us games. The zombie genre is bloated with derivative crap, but this movie rang in a whole new generation, and did it so well you don't need most of the rest.

The original Saw is a hell of a stage-play-slash-bottle-episode, and it's far more sophisticated in its writing than any of the rest in the series. It really holds up in my opinion.

The Cell isn't really that scary, to me, but it's fucking cunty as hell with incredible costumes and set pieces, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Bonus points for having a minor corruption/hypnosis aspect really tickled my imagination. I just wish that element had lasted for longer.

Speaking of movies that are actually plays -- there's no better Stephen King adaptation than Misery. Kathy Bates absolutely crushes in a nauseating, confining performance here, and the hobbling scene is one you just never forget. To me it's a perfectly paced film, and it holds up shockingly well in the era of stans and superfandoms.

Ghost Ship is my favorite bad stupid horror movie. The opening scene is enough creative nonsense carnage to justify its existence, but stick around through the end for a very weird trip-hop montage.

Dead Silence is another goofy one that gets really inventive with its gore. I love horror movies that do just downright disrespectful, creepy shit with corpses, and that's what this one is all about.

The Boy is a fucking laugh riot to me. The entire premise is so transparent from the very beginning and the thrills are so awkward and tame that it's a great Halloween party movie. If you're anything like me, you and your friends will walk around the house talking about the Boy for days afterward. Brahms is an age regressor king

Some people find Aronofsky's movies to be too over-the-top to connect with, but I think he nailed the internal horror of perfectionism, codependency, sexual repression, and eating disorders with Black Swan. Barbara Hershey's character is so perfectly unsettling that it sets all my people-pleasing, abandonment-fearing issues alight every time. Everything about this movie is confining and distorting, which is exactly how it feels inside when you narrow your entire life to a singular pursuit and are governed by impossible rules.

The Others has exactly what I need for a horror movie to have good replay value: just like The Orphanage, it's final reveal is more depressing and unsettling than it is pure scary, which makes it cut deeper, and it recontexualizes the whole rest of the film. The interiors and aesthetics are great.

Possession is easily the most disturbing movie on this list. This one cuts deep in a confusing, unmooring way -- it makes you feel sick in your soul, hopeless, and put off from relationships. Filming it reportedly ruined Sam Neil & Isabelle Adjani's lives for a good while, and you can see why. This film is the psychological reality of divorce in its unabashed form. To really leave behind a life you once committed yourself to, you have to become almost unrecognizable to yourself, and do great violence to both your former self, and the ones you love. This film gets that, and it's painful. It makes you feel disgusting for wanting things or for staying in a place where you're unhappy.

Happy watching!

[tra1nchi]

It's not even funny,,how badly I want to be hypnotised >□< MINORS DNI!! bttm ftm male reader with breasts,,Public hypnosis,, Exhibitionism

Being someone who knows absolutely nothing about hypnosis,,only seeing it in TV shows and even believing that I was all make believe!! Taking control of someone's mind,,that had to be fake!!

So when your friends convinced you to go with them to a hypnosis show,, you agreed!!! Just for the fake to see if it was real or fake,,which you knew it wasn't!!

The place was nice,,it was dark, cozy and smelt like alcohol,,which of course it did since it was in a bar!! Sitting down with your friends at a table and ordering a round of drinks!!

Seeing people drop into hypnosis and boasting to your friends about how they must be actors and there's no way they're flopping so willingly into the hypnotists arms!!

The hypnotist must have heard you though since he started to pick out volunteers from the ground and he landed on you,,your friends joked with you and encouraged you to go up!!! Go find out if it's real or not >□<

"Come on up here sir!" The hypnotists voice is joyous as he speaks into the mic motioning you to come up on the stage!! His arm moving to wrap tightly around your waist!!

You never noticed how the atmosphere was so soothing,,his voice was so soft and deep in your ear as you couldn't help but relax in his embrace!! falling back against him as you fall into trance!!

"There we go, look at him ladies and gents! Completely out!" His hand grabs your wrist and lifts it up, showing how limp it was before his hand accidentally brushes against your breast,,his eyebrow lifting in curiosity!!

"look what we have here." He snickers,, looking around at the crowd before lifting your baggy jumper,,grinning at the sight of your binder as he maneuvered it off,,the crowd gasping at the sight of your breasts!!!

His hand fondles your chest,,the crowd whispering to eachother as he seemed to start to get distracted himself,,groping you as you drool mindlessly under trance!!!

[lazywriters-blog]

INNOCENT WITH A LIAR

I couldn't just sit by and do nothing after witnessing those pictures of Lyney holding- ahem! Oh, I think I just dodged a bullet again.

SUMMARY: You've heard voices around you as you are blindfolded, while you know you aren't in danger as it is a magic show, one can only pray nothing goes wrong.

WARNING: Nothing I can think of mentioning. Am I implying hypnosis? Yes, maybe. Also, I accidentally posted this... So... There's that.

The magician gave her the creeps, gently holding her shoulders and urging her to sit down on the chair, she looked at him one last time as he whipped out a piece of cloth and aligned it with her eyes, blocking out the crowd of people watching them, not being able to see them provided some relief.

Then, she felt his breath fan her earlobe and his voice closer than before. "Relax, your shoulders are far too stiff, there's no need to be scared," he murmured, his grasp increasingly growing tighter.

She doesn't feel good about this.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I shall make her disappear and reappear right from where she came from." he declared, showing his clothed wrist to the public and grinning wide. The lack of his touch further cemented just how tight he had held, "Don't close your eyes."

She is certain everybody is looking at her intently, straining their eyes to not miss a second and a whiff of the magician's secrets. Surely, if they focused without blinking once, they'd come to know how he did his tricks.

However, she doesn't know why she has to be blindfolded.

"On the count of three, say it with me... One..." he begins with a cheerful tone, and suddenly she's not too sure about why she accepted to volunteer, It seemed like a bad decision now that she's here on the stage and waiting impatiently.

"Two..."

"... Three!!" he pitched up his voice and then, the floor opened up beneath her making her fall to her doom as the crowd gasped.

She groaned as she fell out of the chair and landed someplace dark, picking herself up from the fallen stool she took off her blindfold and set her eyes on the door, jogging towards it she twisted the handle and it refused to curl and open. If this was a trick, someone would have to have been around to help her. Surely!

Mirrors reflected her frame and the candles did little to light up the place, arrayed hangers gently swinging right and left, and the make-up stalls smeared with accidental paints and lip tints, a resting spot and other things a dressing room would contain.

Unbeknownst to her, she had someone else taking her place.

"My dear audience she's appeared." Lyney smiled, and the spotlight showered down the seat she had been seated in. "Now you know she couldn't have walked there on her own."

The crowd clapped and she could hear them above her, she'd always known magicians tricked people but why did it have to be her? She frantically looked around, this had to be a mistake! Why would he have a problem with her?

There they were, still with their blindfold on and gripping the seat for dear life, heaving for air as the audience laughed loud and clear at the bowing magician. It had been his solo performance that evening and they couldn't be more impressed, indeed a grand finale for the parting.

She prepared herself to crash into the door hopeful that it would cause an unmissable thud, but nothing indicated they'd heard it, she had to make another sound.

She had to make them know whoever was in her place wasn't her! And she's still down here!!

"I shall see you all in my next performance!" he spoke over the sounds she managed to make, perhaps she had it wrong, and they were just keeping her there for the time being to make sure their magic secrets weren't exposed. "Hey!! I'm still here!!" she shouted.

"Hey!!! Be careful my dear people!!" he nervously grinned as rows of seat gradually emptied, one person hanged around a little longer to glance back and look at the magician quickly vanish behind the curtains rushing to the backrooms.

Of course, they had believed his lies.

The house was cleared of every citizen as lyney approached his sister who returned from the shadow. "So, how did it go? Did people believe it?"

"Looked like it, but was it really necessary?"

Lyney stumbled a little but regained his confidence quickly and retorted, "Of course, it was necessary! Otherwise, my feelings would have gone unheard." he muttered, his sister did not want to see him sad that had to be why she assisted.

But, doubt was a natural notion to any person.

"Alright... If you say so, let's go and see her." She unfolded her crossed arms and faced in the direction of the hidden rooms, lyney perked up and led the way to the secret passway underground they'd trapped her into. Nobody knew she never left the theater.

"Okay, wish me luck! If anything goes wrong, I need you to back me up Lynette."

"Yeah yeah, don't worry I won't let anyone find you confessing your love-"

"Hey! Not so loud!" he hurriedly urged.

"Stop being so paranoid bro..." Lynette deadpanned, leaning against the wall while her brother finally opened the door, looked at her once, and stepped in.

Perhaps the landing had been harsh, he should have kept something softer to cushion the fall but no use grieving over it since the task was complete and he had won his prize. He only needed to speak up and... Let his brain do the automated work.

Besides, he had practiced near to perfection. It couldn't be hard. He hopes at least.

"Hello, my dear lady... Sorry about the situation I put you into, I hope you are not that mad at me." he slowly pulls off his gloves, and sets his hat by the makeup booth. The room lit up bright with lights and candles, he had prepared everything to accommodate her short stay and make it somewhat romantic.

"I see you've taken off your blindfold, that's good... I would have been too shy to take them off myself since your eyes are so pretty..." he mused, closing the distance inch by inch and absorbing the shift in her behavior, usually when one's shoulders are raised and their backs erect. They're ready to fight out of fear. He'd know to be careful.

Her eyes are wide open and her breaths are audible for him to hear, the room had been quiet until he appeared. She didn't scream bloody murder whilst she had been down there, so maybe that's a good sign for him to consider.

"Are you alright? I could-" She quickly moved back when he took a step far too big, but he swiftly recovered, "I could take you someplace better if this is not to your liking." he lowered himself to her level, and magically, a plate of cake sat atop his palm. "You like cakes, don't you? I brought this for you earlier."

She hadn't eaten before coming to his show. "What do you want?" she asked the question nagging her, shuffled back some more, and glued her eyes on him. "Are you the one behind the serial disappearance?"

"Oh no! I would never do such a thing, but you are an exception I couldn't resist. Forgive me." he rested his hand on his chest and peered down. "I never would have done it if you hadn't gone and stolen my heart, honest. Unfortunately, we were... Ways apart and it had been hard to simply let my feelings drowse." he carried on.

"You see, I like you... And I couldn't find any other way to express that without..." he shook his head, "I wanted it to be a secret. That's all." he put on his plastic fake smile he's shown to the audience mere seconds ago.

"Oh..." she stared at him, he couldn't say it was a reaction he was anticipating. "What's wrong?" he took the bait even while understanding everything was wrong.

"Nothing... I thought I was kidnapped and... Awaiting bad things to happen." she softly uttered and faked a smile, he knew they were perfect for each other.

"I would never hurt you," he reassured.

"... Yeah." she had been slow to respond.

"Perhaps not the best confession you've witnessed but," he pulled a bouquet of roses out of thin air, "would you give me the pleasure of being your date for tonight?"

She did not move and stared at the bundle of red held before her, something about him just didn't sit right with her and it was driving her insane, she couldn't tell what troubled her.

She took in a deep breath and shook her head, "I'm sorry I'm far too frightened tonight to be your date, may I leave?" She wondered if her polite tone would do the job, "I would love to tomorrow." She had to fake something.

"Oh! That's alright..." he lowered his hand. The sight of his smile dropping was unnerving for her to watch, and she didn't know why, had she seen this exact enactment before somewhere?

"Can I escort you outside?" He stood up on his feet as soon as she had walked to the door and he closed the distance between them, She didn't want to show her back to him, she quickly turned around and gulped, "Please don't get so close to me." her heartbeat had picked up.

He didn't say anything but hurt had been written all over his face, "Can you unlock it?" she gestured to the door.

"Can I show you one more trick before you leave?" he mumbled.

"No, I'm good, I think I've seen enough of your magic tonight. Can I leave?"

"I know it looks bad but 'father' would have never encouraged such behavior from me." he gripped his fists, "I needed this to be perfect!! But I blew it!!" he shouted, and she stumbled back to the door to support herself. "I can't let you go knowing everything."

"Lyney, is everything alright? Why are you yelling?" A girl's voice resounded outside, she had never been so happy to know someone else could ambush her.

"Please, can you open the door?" she tried her luck at convincing the other voice, but Lyney quickly sternly retorted, "Don't, Lynette. I need your help."

"Why are you doing this? I won't tell any of your secrets to the public! I swear! Just open the door!"

"I need you to calm down. Everything is alright, you can relax." he took a small step forward, and two steps back when she refused to let him touch her, "I won't hurt you I promise! Don't do this to me!!" Everything hurt and he couldn't deny that it kept growing the more he drank in the terrified expression on her face.

Lynette could no longer stand still hearing the voices inside. She opened the entry and to her surprise, her brother's beloved crush fell out and landed on the floor, "Lynette! I told you not to open it!"

"My bad. She's the one you confessed to last night and failed?" She didn't seem bothered by the harsh tone her brother used. "You know, 'Father' would probably want to meet her if word gets out, right?"

"If it gets out, I won't let it."

"Whatever you say, bro. Do your thing."

[irisfixation]

an invite to a show

(experimental writing piece. cw: trance-y language and a gently unsettling atmosphere, perhaps.)

Having a local kinkster acquaintance (in the midst of a play party, no less) ask if you'd like to go see a dance together was somewhat unusual, you'd thought at the time. Even more surprising was the here and now, as you passed between stall and stage, past tent and warehouse, through the local fringe festival, only to find yourself set up in front of a relatively regular theater stage.

Same half-ringed stage. Same curtains; same rows of seats (lower than usual, and with less capacity); same lights, set and framed just as any other, just beyond eye level. They nearly blind you as you step in from the mid-evening blues beyond.

There were other things in the festival you could have expected them to take you in. Adults-only shows, bondage showcases, risque dances in skimpy outfits, stage hypnosis routines, et cetera.

This was clearly not one of those. The banner image just outside the entrance was some classical ballet routine - you didn't recognize it off-hand - and aside from you and your friend you didn't particularly notice anyone else from your little band of Weird Horny Folks™.

Why the hell here in particular? The question bemused as much as it fascinated, really. Was it some elaborate setup, was one of the actors someone they knew? Was this merely an attempt at socializing that went too far? Is this a date?

You look to the one who invited you here. You phrased some of these confusions already when they told you, of course, but they'd just smiled and said a few words of consolation. "I dunno, it could be a date if you wanted it to be" - that kind of flirting, just vague enough to be played off.

Well, either way, you'd be finding out soon enough. A stagehand in shades of burgundy pulls the entrance door to, filtering out first the last streams of sunset light from the entryway, then the chatter and commotion of the festival beyond. The susurration of fellow viewers' friendly chatter dies down to whispers, then naught. The lights dim, slowly yet fluidly.

The curtains pull fully back, the shifting of fabric sliding smoothly across your ears. A beam of light alights upon the very center of the stage. Upon a woman.

She stands there with purpose, the stillness of a bowstring pulled taut, meeting the gaze of the audience before her. Meeting your gaze, within it.

Wordlessly, her chin dips; her arms move to the side as she curtseys. A slow, deep movement.

And then she begins to dance.

You watch, waiting, as she moves. It is a slow thing; hardly a fast-paced spectacle, but possessing of a certain confidence in each of its movements. A turn. A stretch. A slow stride across the stage, each step made as if in slow-motion.

She continues on; somewhere between a ballet and the movements of a sleepwalker. There's a certain sense of autopilot within it, like that of an automaton carrying out procedures done many times before. Of a familiarity that rejects haste.

There's always a certain intentionality to art; a piece of art preserved in a gallery is not so different from something placed on the street, after all. (As the old adage on abstract art goes: "I could have made this!" "But you didn't.") The woman's movements, you think, are similar; you could have easily passed the person in front of you in the street and barely notice. But right now, as you sit and watch, there is an intent clear and pure enough to reject any attempts to turn away.

Her movement winds down. She drifts to the center of the stage, and slowly but certainly ceases her movement.

The moment is heavy, hushed, oppressive. Her gaze holds above it almost tirelessly.

You and her remain there; you rooted to your seat, her anticipant in place, the outside world less than a whisper.

Slowly but surely, she raises an arm. You watch each micromovement as it happens, as her fingers splay out and knucklebones play against taut skin, the muscles across elbow and shoulder tensing, as tufts of her hair brush aside and she places a sole outstretched finger upon her cheek.

There is no music as she moves. None of the crowd says anything, and looking at them would mean missing whatever might come next, so you remain as you are, a body waiting in place for more of the act.

Her index finger, outstretched, traces down slowly but surely, a record needle's slide across grooves intended for teardrops. The edge of her nail moves with painstaking time, alights upon the edge of the lips, sways nigh-imperceptibly to and fro as it waits to move down again. You watch, focus more directed into making sure you see the next moment than it is your body.

It moves down again, slipping across to just beneath the chin. The stage seems to flutter, dreamlike; a buzzing inside scalp and forehead. A tension.

Further downwards, continuing its inexorable journey to just atop her sternum. You watch. (Some part of you wants to watch further down still, but it relents for the time being.) She raises it, phalanges pulling back, the tension within and without building, a bowstring drawn back;

She taps, just once, and you exhale, and the moment is broken and released from tension, and the world sucks in a breath all at once, and the buzz in your head slowly, patiently falls away.

឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵឵ ឵឵ ឵឵

A warm crescent moon and the warmer lights of the festival greet you as you leave. Your friend flicks their eyes to you momentarily as you exit the building, trying to prompt your opinion out of you.

You don't know. The stint of time inside the theater seemed to slip by before you could process through it all. You tell them simply that it was neat enough; that seems to sate them, and it's not nearly as important as things such as getting back on route after all.

It's gotten late far darker than you expected, after all. Time has moved by and left you in place, and you need to get home.

You'll have time to think properly another day.

[emjiroki]

Vampire Cult Leader Geto Suguru x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: sacrifice, blood drinking, hypnosis, predator/prey dynamics, death (not reader or geto), venom as an aphrodisiac, pet names with a little degradation (pet, little lamb), dubcon (it will be tagged appropriately multiple times)

A/N: Happy Halloween Ghouls and Goblins! What's more perfect to celebrate wrapping up this spooky season than with a Vampire Geto fic? I hope everyone enjoys and has a safe holiday!

Likes, comments, reblogs, and tags are appreciated and treasured

‘Why is it so cold? Where are they taking me? Why am I in only a thin sheet?’ all of these questions swarmed through your mind as whoever it was had their freezing hands around your wrists just over the leather they had used to tie them. They kept growling to “Keep moving”, your feet shuffling cautiously across the cold concrete. 

You couldn't see who they were due to the cloth tied across your vision but they would shove you if you stopped moving or stumbled, sending you to the ground before dragging you back up harshly from the floor. With the adrenaline coursing through you, it felt as if your blood should be cold; not hot as it oozed from the scrapes across your knees. 

A rush of air from an opening door greeted you before you were dragged forward again, forced to your knees in a kneeling position, a cold hand pushing your head down before yanking the blindfold off. You squinted even in the low light of the massive room, flickering candles in massive standing candelabras lined the room and cast dancing shadows across the stone walls; shadows that seemed to mock you. 

It seemed to be a jumble of senses as you tried to figure out just where the hell you were; the temperature of the room, the smell of incense permeating the air, the rough feeling of stone beneath your knees and toes, the sensation of light cloth against your skin from a white gown like dress you had never seen before, and the massive door being the only way in or out lined with guards in black robes. 

There were other captives kneeling next to you in a line, a few of them crying softly and the others with their heads down and their eyes closed, lips mumbling words you couldn't quite hear but you assumed they were a prayer. All dressed in identical gowns to yours.

 You turned your head slightly to try and get a look at the people behind you, all of them in robes of various shades of red, a symbol carved into the flesh below their collarbones. The guard behind you turned your head back to face the stage again, his eyes a feral shade of orangey yellow as he bared his teeth. Fangs, not teeth, you realize, your body begins to shake. What was going on here? A sharp cry echoed through the room as a woman down the line was bashed across the back of the head with a wooden pole after seemingly trying to get up, her sobs only seemed to grow as they began poking and prodding her, laughing at her anguish and fear.

“Now now we know better than to play with our food don’t we?” a deep voice rang out from the front of the stage, one light turning on to showcase exactly who was talking. The room erupted in applause as the dark-haired man bowed, smiling as he motioned for the crowd to settle, “What is rule number three?”.

“Pain ruins the blood” the crowd answered together.

“That’s right” He commended, seemingly pleased for the moment until he turned his gaze to the two offenders who had been pushing the woman around. 

With a wave of his hand, they were turned to mist, blood spraying across the ground and walls as they turned to wet atoms. Your jaw dropped, stomach twisting. What the hell was going on?

“And we have no room for anyone who can’t follow my simple rules, correct?”

“Yes Master Suguru” the crowd chanted back. 

“Help us!” one man cried, his head raised to stare at the master with pleading eyes. Suguru laughed, something airy and almost gleeful.

“But I am helping you,” He replied, “Helping you reach your potential, true enlightenment”. The crowd erupted in applause again, their clapping unnerving you. He continued to speak once the group died down again, explaining their cult mission in a voice that seemed as if he was speaking directly into your brain, whispering in your ear; the words curling around your brainstem and invading your nervous system. Despite the urge to flee, the primal need to get as far away as possible screaming, you couldn’t move. Frozen to the floor watching him gliding across the stone stage, back and forth in his long robes the color of garnet stone. 

“Don't you see? You are but simple nourishment, akin to cattle for the slaughter, it's your true purpose". 

Fresh adrenaline flared when the icy hand of the guard standing behind you wrapped around the back of your neck, the shrill scream that left your mouth didn't sound human; feral and desperate. The strap they had used to tie your hands dug deeply into your wrists as you thrashed, managing to throw the guard off balance enough to shoulder his thigh and send him to the floor before forcing yourself to your feet. The cult was swarming now, circling like a pack of wolves waiting for their prey to make the wrong move, their unnatural eyes bright with bloodlust.

“Enough” The dark voice of their leader brought them to a halt. 

Like scolded dogs, they moved away from you, the guy you had knocked to the floor staring like he wanted to break your neck. Your knees throb from kneeling as you stand on unsteady feet, suppressing every urge not to shake as their leader approaches you in his unnerving gliding stride. 

“Well well, a strong one aren’t you?” He asked in a seemingly pleased tone, drawing so close to you it felt like he was enveloping you, so close that you could see the delicate gleam of hunger in his carnelian eyes. The moment you looked into his gaze it felt as if your body had frozen, like prey in a trap. His pointed nails dragged smoothly across your cheek, riddling your skin with goosebumps. 

The longer his cold fingers lingered the more it felt as if he was invading your body through every nerve ending, every pulse of your blood seemed to be at his will like he was pumping your heart manually.  

Your mouth felt iron-locked, eyes unable to tear away from his as one hand held your jaw, keeping you steady as he reached behind you and easily sliced through the leather, the sound of the strap falling to the floor barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears. 

‘Why can’t I feel the floor? Am I… floating?’ all of these questioning thoughts ran through your mind as you focused on the feeling of what seemed like your entire body was balancing in the palm of his hand. 

“See? So easily subdued, such a good pet”. 

It felt as if your heart should be pounding, adrenaline and cortisol spiking through your blood as a vague primal panic tensed every muscle to flee. But it wasn’t and nothing was happening except a boneless calm. Glass water in a lake. He leaned in close, his nose grazing the line of your pulse as his dark eyes flickered closed for a moment, a deep inhale drifting his warm exhale against your flesh as the energy buzzing around you reflected the restraint he was exuding to keep his lips from your throat. 

“On your knees” He murmured, his hand releasing your jaw the second your legs gave out under you as he turned away, beginning to walk back with merely a glance down at you.

“Crawl”. 

Your limbs weren’t your own as you dropped to your hands, your knees throbbing as the scrapes met the floor and shuffled across it; your head up with your eyes still trained on him and watching every fluid movement of his steps. You grit your teeth against the pain of the cuts opening again but are unable to stop trailing behind him, parading yourself for his power move. But as long as you weren’t being swarmed by these bloodsuckers you’d stay on your knees all night. 

He ascended the stairs silent as a ghost, no sound reached your ears other than the whimpering of the others held captive cutting the pin-drop silence. He reached the stone landing three stairs before you did, two of his henchmen struggling but quickly moving a chair in for him that should be described as a throne, all dark wood and deep obsidian velvet cushions. They bowed graciously to him before skirring away as you moved to his feet. 

“Look at you, come closer”. You shuffled forward until you were between his parted thighs, his hand cold as he traced the back of his fingers against your cheek, “So warm and supple”. You felt air invade your lungs again, the fog in your brain lifting, if only momentarily, and you finally move on your own accord. You rubbed your wrists where the strap had been cutting in, your white gown pooling around your legs now. A soft, unsatisfied noise escaped him as his dark eyes followed your brief glance down to your clothing, a sharp clawing-like nail pricking just under your chin to drag you up again. The room's cool air had fresh goosebumps erupting across your skin as he raised his hands to your shoulders before pushing the gown down and off to settle at your feet. You stayed still as he observed you in your bare form, your heart hammering in nervousness, fear taking the back burner for now. It felt like he was analyzing you. Not an inch of skin or cell in your body unseen as he regarded you with a sort of… interest. 

“No need to be so nervous pet,” He said, leaning back comfortably, “You’re in capable hands now”.

“Who-Who are you?” You stuttered, your voice breaking as you lifted your arms to cover yourself. The chuckle surprised you.

“I am Geto Suguru, Master of this cult of… well animals, bloodsuckers, the discarded scraps I suppose” 

“Why are you doing this?”. Another almost unnerving chuckle.

"Feeding them, and myself, so we don't get too restless, tends to cause more chaos when hungry" He mused, glancing behind you once and waving his hand dismissively before training his predatory gaze back to you. "but I must say I don't think I've ever had a meal as pretty as you". 

You fight the shamed redness from your cheeks, your spine chilling as a shrill scream shattered the near quiet; the ravenous sounds of the bloodsuckers descending upon those sacrificed to their feral appetites had your stomach tied in knots. 

"No no, eyes on me" Geto murmured, a strange tingling behind your eyes prompting you to face forward again, to ignore the carnage behind you unsuccessfully. The sickening sounds of teeth popping flesh had your stomach churning, skin crawling, and saliva pooling against your tongue as you forced the vomit down at the images your brain was conjuring up at the sucking wet sounds. You were so focused on not throwing up that you didn’t notice the cool hand wrapping around your wrist, Geto pulling you forward until you were stumbling into his lap. He settled your knees on either side of his lap, effectively straddling him in the chair and baring everything to his wandering gaze. Your body began to shake, afraid to put your hands anywhere but clutched to your chest, every alarm bell ringing loudly but your muscles froze. 

“Geto I-” You stammered past your trembling jaw, only for one of his slender fingers to press against your lips.

“Master” He corrected in a hushed tone, “you’ll address me as Master while under my care”, He leaned forward slightly to draw his nose along your throat again, “at least for now”.

“M-Master”, the name foreign to your tongue and making something stir in your guts, “I’m-”.

“Scared, I know, Your blood is practically burning” He hummed, a soft smile on his lips that revealed his fangs, “purely divine”.

It felt wrong to be aroused at the feeling of this deadly man running his hands along your sides, his claw-like nails on one hand running tantalizing lines along your ribs. The other was planted flat on the small of your back, almost encouraging you to lean closer into him.

You squeaked at the feeling of his lips meeting your collarbone, his tongue slipping against the skin, tasting you, reveling in the sound of your heart beating like a racing horse. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked, finally putting your hands against his shoulders to keep balanced. His dark eyes flicked up to you, flames from the surrounding candlelight dancing in those black pools.

“I truly despise repeating myself,” He said, a more stern edge to his voice as he moved his hand up to thread in your hair, arching your neck back a little to expose your throat. 

“It’ll only hurt for a moment, take a deep breath”.

You could do nothing but follow his instructions, air filling your lungs for a moment before a sharp stinging pain erupted across your throat, bringing tears to your eyes as you let the breath escape in a shaky whimper, your hands shoving against his shoulders in a futile effort to move him. 

His hold was unbreakable. Pinning you to his lap and barely allowing any movement. The pain radiated through your body, a flash burn that made every nerve under your skin ignite. But suddenly there was nothing. No pain. No fear. Just a blooming euphoric feeling. 

Were you dying? No no that couldn’t be this. Nothing could be this. 

You felt a soft chuckling growl tremor against your throat as sagged a little against Geto’s chest, the hand against your moving for his arm to encircle you and keep you steady.

“It’s the venom” He murmured into your skin, answering your silent question. It was then you noticed all other sounds past this were numbed. Muffled like someone had filled your ears with cotton. It was as if you were in a bubble, the only feeling being Geto beneath you. The feeling of his lips on your throat, his cool hands caressing your skin, the softness of his robes. Like all the nerve endings in your body were firing at once. Your hips bucked against him as he dragged his nails softly down your spine, releasing your hair to make you shiver. The stimulation of your heat had a choked moan escaping, bucking your hips involuntarily again and feeling a prominent bulge forming. 

“Easy now pet” He hissed, his hands going to your hips as rocked against him again and again, the stimulation buzzing through your body like you were touching a live wire. You couldn’t help how wet you were, the stickiness of your thighs drawing a burning heat to your face. Your gasp echoed around you when Geto unlatched himself from your throat, his lips red and shining in the dim candlelight, beckoning you in to steal a sinful kiss. As if reading your mind he leaned forward, one hand softly against the back of your next pulling you to meet him halfway and taste yourself against his lips. It should have been gross, downright revolting to have your blood smearing against your lips and swallowed against your tongue, but you let him devour you. Panting with a soft moan as his tongue slid against your lower lip, his sharp canines nicking against the soft flesh and drawing fresh blood into both of your mouths. 

“You want it that bad?” He questioned and you realized your hips hadn’t stopped moving, the wetness leaking against the material of his robes. With the way this dizzying need consumed your brain and body, you couldn’t say no. Wouldn’t say no. Not when you were balancing on a precipice this steep. If all you needed to do was give yourself to him, blood and body, then it was much preferable over anything that would have happened with those fiendish goons still devouring on the floor behind you. You gasped as he lifted you up slightly, hands against your hips as he shifted the front of his robes open. The groan that tumbled from his lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock sent a shiver through you, his dark eyes peering up at you through heavy lids as his sensitive head grazed across your wet heat. You tried to sink down and take him all at once but his sharp nails dug into your hips and ass the moment he breached your entrance.

“Ah ah, go slow” He instructed, squeezing your flesh and pulling you down an inch at a time, your head swimming as he stretched you so well, stuffing himself right up against the soft spot inside of you. A sharp hiss escaped you as he roughly prodded your cervix.

“It’s- too much” You whined, shifting your hips uncomfortably. 

“You’ll learn to take it” He murmured, his lips grazing your chest as he panted out a heavy groan, “So tight”. Another sharp pain against the side of your breast and suddenly you were buzzing again, that euphoria leaking back into your bloodstream. You could feel him drawing your blood in against his tongue, drinking you down greedily like he was a dehydrated man receiving water, his hands beginning to guide you along his length. It felt like he was dissolving into you, your warmth gripping him and filling his stomach at the same time as you began to bounce, your clit smashing into the hair at his pelvis as moans crumbled passed your lips more freely. 

“That’s right, fall apart for me,” Geto encouraged as he broke from your skin, the side of your breast slick with blood as it rolled down your stomach, his tongue tracing the line to clean up his spill. Your climax was edging embarrassingly fast, your wetness leaking out and staining the material of his robes as you panted and whimpered wantonly, completely disregarding anyone who could be watching at that moment. You could feel eyes on you, burning into your back with hunger but you ignored it, sparks popping behind your tightly closed eyes as Geto began thrusting up into your body. 

“M-Master I’m-” You tried to tell him how close you were as his hand moved up to squeeze your cheeks, prompting you to open your eyes for him. Looking into his gaze had you under his spell again, like a mouse about to be consumed whole by a snake. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, a surprised hum bubbling from his chest as he pulled you in closer and began hammering against the soft sensitive spot deep inside and dragging you closer to your end. 

“Cum for me” He whispered against your lips, the prick of his nails in your flesh sending you careening over the edge. Your arousal soaked your thighs and dripped from his balls to the chair as you shrieked, never having had an orgasm this intense before in your life. He chuckled darkly as he moved his thumb down to your clit, pressing in tight circles and sending you spiraling again, your hips moving without any rhythm as your second release crashed through you and further soaked his lap. You sagged against him as if boneless, your breath escaping in heavy pants and your heart thumping so loudly it sounded like it was leaking from your ears. 

“Look at the mess you made, little lamb” He commented, his thumb going down to run across your folds and bring your juices to his lips, “you’ll have to do your part and clean me up with that exploring tongue of yours”.

A weak groan was all you were able to manage, not able to even move your arms. You felt so weak. 

“But that will come later, need to have you in top shape to take my seed and produce my strong little spawns”.

You weakly raised your head to look at him, feeling the surprise on your face before he mentioned it. 

“Don’t look so surprised little lamb, you’ve proven yourself a worthy vessel and an even worthier snack”  He dipped his lips down to your ear, nipping lightly but drawing no blood as you twitched against him, “think I’ll keep you, make you my bloodsucking bride and give you true purpose, to be mine. Forever”.