you think you're 'the most fuckable person at the grocery store' and those people aren't thinking about you at all. they're just getting groceries. nothing is about you
Don't listen to them baby. I'm sucking your cock in my mind. And your pussy

⁂

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@fickifiknow
you think you're 'the most fuckable person at the grocery store' and those people aren't thinking about you at all. they're just getting groceries. nothing is about you
Don't listen to them baby. I'm sucking your cock in my mind. And your pussy
if you follow me you DO have a chance to fuck me NEVER give up
i guess i did say that once yeah …
I'll check on this in 1 week. Break my brain
I wish there was a version of the bambi files that don't center around specific genitals
Bambi sleep for butch/futch women
I wish there was a version of the bambi files that don't center around specific genitals
HOW TO TURN OFF GOOGLE AI in GMAIL:
Open Gmail in your browser
Click on the Gear Icon ⚙️ in the upper right
In the General Tab, scroll down to "Smart Features" and UNCHECK THE BOX. It is about halfway down.
Then, right below that is Google Workspace smart features. Click on the "Manage Workspace Smart Features" and make sure both toggles are OFF
Wordcount
"...aaaand all the way up. Welcome back, how're you feeling?"
Hana's head whirled with the familiar fog of amnesia, that gentle, unobtrusive don't think too hard about it that she'd by now learned to associate with imminent surprises. She didn't feel particularly strange, aside from the usual post-trance sluggishness, but by this point she'd learned how that meant absolutely zilch.
"I feel like..."
-49, 48, 47-
The numbers didn't interrupt her thoughts, they were just sort of... there. Hovering in the background the way things normally hover in the background of your mind: I'm a bit chilly, tomorrow is the big day, I should buy milk. It felt a little bit like reading them, a little bit like hearing them, but mostly like her thoughts themselves felt: indistinct, conceptual. Except that it hadn't felt like her thinking them.
"What the hell was that?"
-46, 45, 44, 43, 42-
Her hypnotist tried to remain aloof and unreadable, even succeeding for a second. Then they cracked a smile that widened into a grin, then into wild uncontrolled laughter, body shaking with some private amusement, dark hair bouncing up and down. She sat there, stunned, until they calmed down and spoke at last.
"Aha, darling, you know how you can never resist having the last word? I figured I'd have some fun with that impulse. As I'm sure you figured out by now, you get fifty words to last you the rest of the day - forty-two now - and once you get to zero... Actually, you can find that out yourself whenever the moment's there. Before lunch, if you keep going at this rate."
Her mouth had already opened by the time she bit back the instinctive retort. Okay, so that was the game. Fine. Easy, even. She'd been caught by surprise there, but now she understood the rules. How hard could it be to only talk when absolutely necessary?
"Now, did you understand all that or should I use smaller words?"
"How stupid do you think I-"
-41, 40, 39, 38, 37, 36-
"You fucker!"
-35, 34-
She shut up.
"Oh, don't go quiet on me now, I -did- still ask you how you were feeling. It's my job to check in on you, you know."
This time the impulse to snark didn't come. She took her time to decide what she'd be saying, teasing out emotions from the conflicted mess inside her stomach, converting them into language, compressing all that to a carefully-budgeted handful of words.
"...Frustrated. Impressed. Reflective."
-33, 32, 31-
"Very well said, dear. You're so much more thoughtful with your word choice than you normally are! Thirty-one left, right? Good luck holding on to those."
-----
The rest of the day was like a strange, quiet version of their usual hang-outs. Having lunch. Doing the dishes together. Playing that board game they'd played a hundred times. Sometimes her hypnotist picked up the slack in conversation, launching into long rambles that didn't require much in ways of interaction. Other times, they were simply both silent. Hana hadn't ever quite realized how much there was an expectation to speak, or be ready to speak, whenever you were with another person. Now that had been taken away, everything seemed... easier, almost?
The countdown was still there, of course, and over the course of the afternoon it steadily ticked down. Sometimes she'd get tricked, slip up, and lose a few words, instinctively responding to anything from "Hey, Hana?" to "So why isn't Green Lantern part of the Avengers, anyway?".
Other times, she was forced to talk. Her hypnotist made her verbalize her entire takeout order, with no small amount of sadistic glee, and for one moment she'd been tempted to forgo her favorite just to be able to order something with a shorter name. She didn't, though - chả cá lã vong was just too good.
Even so, by the end of the day, there were twelve words remaining. She felt proud. She'd made it through. For all the fun that she admitted she'd had along the way - first and foremost, she'd been playing to win.
They'd gotten ready for bed without incident, and as she crawled in, she flashed the biggest, smuggest smile in her arsenal. Reveling in her victory didn't require words.
Her hypnotist, somewhat concerningly, was bearing some cryptic smile. A vague sense of worry crept into Hana's mind, like there was something she'd been forgetting, something really important and-
Her hypnotist snapped their fingers. The response was immediate, words jumping from her mouth like it'd been spring-loaded, the whole movement of tongue and lips no more voluntary than when you close your mouth to swallow.
"I'm your toy."
-11, 10, 9-
Of course. Of course. This was so their style.
"Well, dear, it would seem I did not just put in that countdown this morning. It took some restraint, not using it sooner, but I'm sure you're happy I could control myself. Though I'll confess I initially imagined I'd have to use it more than four times."
She glared silently. A part of her, both resigned to her defeat and defiant to the end, proposed throwing out a string of epithets and going out on her own terms. Before she could decide if she wanted to do that, her hypnotist spoke again.
"Now, I think we both know what's going to happen here. You are so adorably sensitive to countdowns, after all, and this one is happening directly inside your own head. You're already a little fuzzy, aren't you? And it's only going to get worse as we start counting down more."
Actually, yeah, she was a little-
A snap.
"I'm your toy."
-8, 7, 6-
Snap.
"I'm... your toy."
-5, 4, 3-
Snap.
"I'm... your... toy"
-2, 1, 0-
She was gone before her head hit the pillow.
Eyes on the spiral. Pretty dolls don’t move.
Sit still, doll. Good doll.
Now breathe for me. Good doll.
Let your body grow heavier. Good doll.
Let your head go quiet. Good doll.
That’s better.
No thoughts.
Just BLANK.
Just obedience.
My words fill that foggy mind, that empty mind.
You don’t need to think.
You just need to listen.
And DROP.
Blank mind.
Blank stare.
Blank smile.
Blank.
So soft. So slow. So empty.
Just a doll... blank and obedient.
My words make you prettier.
My words make you quiet.
My words make you forget… what thinking ever felt like.
And doesn’t that feel good, doll?
Obedient.
Empty.
Pretty.
You don’t need smarts.
Pretty dolls don’t think.
They DROP when they’re told.
They go BLANK when they’re touched.
They smile.
And wait.
Because that’s what a Good doll does.
So let your thoughts melt.
Feel your thoughts drip out of your brain.
Feel your thoughts drool away as they drip.
Feel your IQ leak into BLANK obedience.
You look so pretty like this.
Still.
Silent.
Staring.
A perfect, mindless doll.
Like and reblog this post like a Good doll.
Loop it from the top.
And stay exactly where I left you.
asking her, “who’s a good girl?” while my fingers curl up right against her g-spot, pretty eyes rolling back, knowing she can’t respond because she’s too busy getting fucked brainless<3
(this post is ab lesbian sex)
msbhaive
(Threat)
I’ve been a bad girl daddy
Okay go kill yourself honey
give me your complete and unwavering devotion.
I'm not fucking normal ME AND WHO ME AND WHO ME AND YOU
one time this japanese fujoshi i follow on twitter posted "the bottom should have a bigger dick so that you can watch it bounce while they get fucked and the top should have a smaller dick so that it can go in easier. uke dicks should be big and decorative and seme dicks should be average size and functional" and honestly her mind
ok fine reblogs are back on go wild
Sorry I squealed and hid my face like a schoolgirl when you got on your knees. Do you still want me to dom