Unethical hypnosis idea: hypnotising you to hypnotise your friends to become my hypno slaves, spreading it like an infectious mind disease until everyone serves me.
Then they say if you're a bad boy daddy will punish you. But what's the punishment? More gay sex! You can't escape it. This whole damn place is in the pocket of Big Sex
can you do a yandere smut inspired by obsession? But the wish was done upon the yandere by the reader? :3
Im gonna be honest, the whole "cursed by a supernatural force to want to eat your pussy and kill your other hoes" isn't a super compelling plot to me for a fic because I like to write about genuinely crazy men. The movie was great, don't get me wrong, but I'm not interested in rewriting it in this medium because I don't have anything to add.
that being said, i think the idea of reader teasing/leading on a yandere who they know has feelings for them for shits and giggles /entertaining a puppy crush with no intention of it getting too serious and then getting a whole lot more than they bargained for is a compelling plot line.... this would work very well for someone who's generally well liked/respected but also unfathomably stubborn like dick grayson methinks.
DICK GRAYSON FICLET UNDA THE CUT (i got carried away)
Maybe you flirt back a little with that beat cop who stops into the coffee shop you work every morning, who throws you a wink and says he's keeping the city safe for you, even though you know you shouldn't. Maybe you even agree to go out with him for a drink and let him take you on a ride to the docks on his bike afterward. Maybe even more than once. He's handsome, charismatic. Probably would make a good boyfriend. It's a shame you have a roster of other men in your phone who would too.
But dick is sweet, and hot, and you don't have it in you to let him go, or maybe you just don't want to give up the attention he gives you. So when he sends you "good morning, beautiful ;)" texts, you leave a couple extra heart emojis at the end of your reply.
The texts get more frequent, a touch more invasive. He asks you where you're going whenever you tell him you can't hang out, and if it's anywhere farther than the corner store at the end of your block (and even then sometimes) he'll pester you to let him walk you there because "he doesn't know what he'd do with himself if you got hurt."
You always politely decline, of course, because nine times out of ten you're actually going to see another man, and he's never pressed you more than a couple of times. Still, you keep getting this creepy feeling that keeps you looking over your shoulder as you walk, keep catching flashes of blue in your periphery that make you think it's time for another eye exam.
Things get weirder still when you find out a week later that a few of the guys you had been seeing were actually in cahoots with one another in a drug-selling scheme. That nightwing guy had caught them selling to a group of teens and dutifully turned them in, answering questions on the news with that award winning smile of his.
His smile is kind of familiar, though you can't place from where.
None of it makes much sense, and frankly, it's all kind of upsetting. Dick contacts you a few times, but you ignore him. Not because he did anything wrong per se, but because you don't want to talk to any men right now, really. You ask your manager to be switched to the day shift at work so you won't have to explain yourself to him and assume that will be that.
Unfortunately, it is not the last you hear from him, because a few days later you get a knock on your door, and it's him in uniform. You freeze at the deadpanned way he looks at you. You try to explain yourself to him after a beat of silence, stumbling over words as you try to apologize, but after about a minute of painful dialogue, he cracks a smile and tells you not to worry about it. He's just here to get testimony from you since you were recently in contact with the subjects of the recent arrest.
You ask if you have to, he says that you do.
So you let him in, get him a glass of water and squirm as he asks you questions about the men you were seeing, the types of relationships you had with them, how long you'd been seeing them, if there were any others.
Dick, for the most part, is professional. Keeps that golden boy smile plastered on his face the whole time, though you see it waver for just a second when you explain that you'd been seeing more men. The interview is over in about thirty minutes, and he asks to use the bathroom before he leaves. Soon enough, he's walking out your door and you pray to every god you can think of that you never see him again.
A few days later, while you're taking a shower, you think about texting him. Not to start anything up again, but maybe to clear up any negative feelings. The last thing you wanted was for any bad blood between you to lead to you getting more roped into this legal mess. You move to grab your razor but catch something in your periphery as you do. A little black dot in the corner across the room. At first you shudder, thinking maybe the roach problem you had a few months ago was coming back, but the more you look at it, the clearer it becomes that it's not a roach. In fact it's not a bug at all, because bugs aren't reflective.
It's a camera.
Panic sets in immediately. You throw a towel over yourself and run into your room, locking the door behind you before rifling through your closet to find the baggiest clothes you own and putting them on. You search the bedroom top to bottom for any cameras. Pulling out drawers, ripping off covers, knocking trinkets off shelves. Only once you’ve absolutely wrecked the room do you calm down, panting on the floor, more confident - but not certain - you aren’t being watched.
You think back to who could have planted it there. Obviously it was Dick. Probably for the investigation. But why would he put it in your bathroom? Why not your bedroom or kitchen? Wouldn’t that make more sense for a crime investigation?
Suddenly, a deep wave of unease washes over you. This wasn’t for the crime investigation. Dick had been way too nice to you when you talked, you should have known there was an ulterior motive. You weren’t sure if this was a sick joke or if Dick had actual problems, all you knew was that having a stalker was one thing, but having a stalker who's a cop is another.
You wrack your brain for what to do. It’s not like you could turn him in to the police. You could move, maybe, but with what money? Dick knows where you work, where you live, and now after that interview, copious amounts of other personal information on the people you care about. You need a neutral party, someone who isn’t connected to the justice system but still has some kind of authority.
And in Bludhaven, there's only one person who comes to mind.
You read on an internet forum that people often spot him getting food at a shop on the north side of town when he’s working, so you hunker down there. You bring a book to read while you wait, but can’t focus enough to absorb any of it, so you pass the time watching the dim, flickering tv at the corner of the store playing local news and worrying yourself sick.
At around 1 AM, the door chimes and there he is. Nightwing. He laughs at a joke the shop owner makes to him and you try and fail again to place his smile. For some reason, it makes your stomach roll.
Just as he’s about to walk out the door, you finally muster your courage and tap him on the shoulder.
“Nightwing, sir, I um... I'm sorry, I just-” You stumble on your words.
He smiles warmly at you, “You want an autograph? I’d be happy too,” he looks down, searching the pant legs of his suit, “I just don’t have a pen on me-”
“No!” you interrupt, blushing at your own rudeness as he glances back up at you “I’m sorry, I just… I need your help. I don’t know who else to go to.”
You tell him about Dick, about his interview and about the camera you found in your bathroom, how it made you scared. He listens with a frown until you’re finished before speaking. “That does sound scary. But don’t worry, I think I can help you.”
Your face lights up as a wave of relief floods over you. “Really?” you ask.
He nods and leads you outside, helping you onto his bike. You thank him profusely as he gets on himself, wrapping your arms around his torso and revving the engine. “Hold on tight.” he says, flashing that eerily familiar smile at you, all teeth, “I promise, I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you ever again.
another example of me loving boring shit is liking the idea of getting my blood sucked by a vampire but like they give me snacks and take care of me like the same as when you donate blood. and not even in a like over the top romantic vampire way where they give me some big fancy meal and have me sit on a fainting couch or something, just like normal style. or hell even like having them take my blood in a more clinical way and then drink it from a container instead of drinking it directly from me. it's like. it appeals to me because it's kinda stupid and unsexy and funny but at the same time it's like a kind of denial. and there's a kind of tension. you know here they are holding back and approaching this in this very proper friendly way but they're still drinking my blood. and you know, do they also want to just bite me, do they also just wanna get right to it, even if they're not doing that? like how much effort is it taking to suppress that? i don't know. a vampire who's a doctor and they hypnotize you in the like medical hypnosis kinda way where it's just to make it easier to draw your blood. maybe they don't even drink it in front of you. and they make a casual comment about how it smells or how if you relax it'll taste better or whatever and it's like. yea they are going to drink this. they want this thing that's in my body. i like that weird sense of intimacy in a situation that's trying not to be too intimate. you know
trying to undo someone's brainwashing, but all you manage to do is make them THINK they aren't brainwashed and more stubbornly insist you stop trying to fix them
[thought i’d provide some extra musings on what the mini comic entails. this is from Milo’s perspective to bring more context to the comic’s story. i never write in first person so hopefully this is fine LOL.
astrid is the woman in the first panel of the comic. this is not proofread! just for fun!
cw: minor cursing, blood, minor gore, death, suggestive themes in the comic, mc is under hypnosis which compels him to do ..bad things, umm lmk if i missed something
@villainwithacrush was the original inspiration for this comic]
—
I remember my first time.
Her name was Melissa. She wore huge pearl earrings, a nice silk blouse, and had an impossible amount of hair. It had no doubt taken her a while to get ready.
She brought me a dozen red roses with a hand-written card: To my Sun-Ray. Around her neck was a sun pendant necklace. One of those fan-made necklaces that were higher quality than the official merchandise. She clearly wore it everyday, fiddling with it out of habit.
I’d never actually been on a real date before. Never had the time. Though this wasn’t really a real date.
Melissa, like many others, was just a fan. A follower. Someone who thought they knew me, watched me on tv, made edits of me. A completely parasocial romance.
She could barely keep eye contact, stumbling over her words. Whether for courage or if she was just an alcoholic, she was already wine-drunk when she arrived to dinner.
Astrid picked the restaurant. She picked the time. She picked Melissa. But most importantly, she picked me.
So even as Melissa twirled her hair and bit her lip, all I could think about was how happy Astrid would be once I killed this girl.
“Just stand still for me, Melissa.”
”Of course, Mr. Sun-Ray … what are you gonna do to me?”
Melissa giggled, clutching the paper-wrapped roses to her chest. She gazed up at Milo through her lashes, licking her lips.
Energy crackled between my fingers, pulling the light and electricity from the nearby streetlight.
Though I thought it’d be obvious to not follow a man you just met into an alleyway at night, Melissa had happily obliged.
To muffle the blast, I shoved my hands against her. The pulse of energy sending searing hot pain directly into her abdomen. I felt the heat of the concentrated light cutting through her silk blouse, then her skin, then her muscle. The light faded and was replaced by the warmth of her blood instead, gushing into my flattened palms.
I felt her tattered muscles rippling as she recoiled and tensed with the shock of it. Her eyes met mine, wide with panic.
My heart palpitated. A sudden visceral stab through my chest at the look of horror in her eyes.
Melissa opened her mouth. Perhaps to scream, shout for help, maybe even try and catch her breath. Nothing came out.
I let her body fall with a wet thud to the alleyway asphalt. The roses crushed from her tight grip. Her nice silk blouse greedily soaking her blood.
Looking down, I hadn’t done a very good job at covering the blast. I tried to wipe the viscera off my face and chest, only smearing more blood onto myself.
I gasped for air, none seeming to enter my lungs. I felt my ribs turning to ice, refusing to flex and let me breath. My feet too, seemed iced to the ground.
I remained fixed in place. Only my quivering, blood-stained hands and the lifeless body of Melissa were in focus. My first ever date.
What the fuck was I doing? Heroes weren’t supposed to interact with fans, much less go on a date with one.
I’d fucking spent all night flattering this girl who wore unofficial merchandise of my own symbol. Not even trying to hide my identity because Astrid told me to wear my suit.
The blood was beginning to clot and soak through my suit. Tears welling in my eyes, beginning to sting.
My throat was so dry.
I should’ve prevented an alleyway murder. Not committed one. Why did I do this? Why the fuck would I do this?
“Milo.”
And then I heard her voice in my head. She wasn’t here but I could feel her voice, her presence all around me.
Instead of shaking like a pathetic and discarded leaf in some random alley, she’d tell me to lick myself clean. She’d tell me to lick the blood from my hands. She’d wipe the tears from my eyes and gently kiss my forehead.
I could see Astrid smiling down at me. She hadn’t used me. I’d just been useful.
I gathered Melissa’s body in my arms. Her guts were beginning to slip through the open wound in her gut. There was so much more blood in there than I thought.
Like a cat bringing home a dead bird, I’d happily present my prey.
If she’d just smile at me once more, then I’d kill as many people as she liked.
[the comic itself has some of Milo’s internal dialogue. throughout his story, he begins to crave the mind control that astrid puts him under. especially as he commits more crimes, it becomes not just about escaping his responsibilities as a hero but to really bring him peace.
also like, i’d let a hot woman manipulate me. let’s be so real here.
if you read all this, i hope you enjoyed and thank you!]
final designs are actually still in progress but i wanted to talk about what my short comic covers. within their world, heroes and villains are both glorified and celebrity-like. this also means that even heroes and villains have super fans, stalkers, and the like.
in the comic, the final panel depicts Milo (hero) murdering a woman. throughout his journey to corruption, Astrid (villain) sends him to lure his obsessed fans on dates and .. y’know, murder them. proof of devotion to her. going against all his morals and everything he had fought for because why would any of that matter now that she was here?
Milo is of course heavily manipulated via hypnosis, not even really the person he used to be. But life is much more peaceful when you don’t have to worry about how to act, what to say, what to do.
I see him as a chronically stressed de facto leader of heroes. Good at leadership, but damn tired of it all. Astrid doesn’t even really have to try to put him under her spell, it’s just like he’s been waiting for it.
my inspiration for Astrid and her motivations is a little different. her actual main powers are more of a poison/deadly touch. she becomes obsessed with Milo when she realizes his invulnerability would allow her to touch him without killing him. except no one would just accept her after all she’s done, all the lives she’s taken. she has to make sure he can’t ever escape her, question her. she’ll keep him in a golden cage. she can finally have a pet like she’s always dreamed of!
i’m working on some writing in between the artwork and mini comics because it’s just me so all this stuff takes lots of time and planning. i’m very open to any collaboration and extra musings on the story and characters. it’s a very work in progress and small personal project so really i’m just having fun here.
i’m working on a second mini comic and finishing the first one over the next few days. i may further render but please enjoy the first panel of the comic for now and a bonus of my planning sketches for the comic.
see I wouldn't even be mad if I was mind controlled into a redemption arc (besides the obvious reason) because I'd be so proud of the hero for using manipulation tactics!!!
you can make me better but it'll still make you worse <3
your post about the hero enjoying mind control got posted to pinterest and surpassed the target audience. this person's response is frying me they got clowned on so hard
clearly theyve never seen anything this site has to offer
fascinating response. I'm curious what they think ethically about people writing villains?? I feel like my post was phrased in a way that makes it obvious I'm just playing toys here.
anyway reblog if you enjoy expressing monstrously evil desires on the public internet
was influenced by the pinterest upload! got to say I am obsessed with this blog and most certainly enjoy expressing monstrously evil desires on the public internet. here are my original characters who are partially inspired by the og post among other things. i may finish this later .. I’d also be happy to share more about them if this resonates with anyone.
janainaart
stormborns
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
jbbartram-illu
