#- manipulating to get a false sense of security.

[shinyume]

WE STAY WINNING LEECH NATION !!!!! THEY CAME HOME

[purrivacy]

i really wanna believe that this time its genuine

that someone wants to help me and i dont even care if it turns out they just wanted me to sleep with them bc thats fine i can do that

but i just hope they actually wanna be friends w me too

id just

like a friend

one that wont drop me as soon as i cant give them whatever they wanted

[thesecretdcblog]

Tim who lies and manipulates as easily and naturally as breathing.

Tim who will give you the verbal run around until you forget what you were even talking about in the first place.

Tim who can look you over in 0.05 seconds and know exactly how to target your biggest insecurities.

Tim who will gaslight you so hard your ancestors will break into hysterics.

Tim who uses his words as a barrier to keep others from getting too close.

Tim who uses his words to lure you into a false sense of security before verbally eviscerating you.

Tim who has been able to make men twice his age and size cry like small children just by speaking down to them.

Tim who can lie to Batman and get away with it.

[yandere-daydreams]

Honestly one Hybrid troupe I love but don’t see a lot is the deer! Reader. They’re still innocent, of course with those doe eyes, but they live for the chase against a predator. What happened when this sweet doe is caught? 👀

tw - manipulation, power dynamics, implied non/con.

no wait,,, bc deer!reader and panther!geto,,, no,,, wait,,,

it's just - you're such an easily scared little thing, quick to run at the first sign of pointed teeth and sharpened claws. he knows he shouldn't, that it's unfair of him to target prey so far beneath his hunting class, but he can't help but linger in the shadows of your usual grazing spot, can't find an excuse not to send those drooling mutts after someone else's meal and let your hopeful little herbivore mind be lulled into a false sense of security by the suddenly serene forest. you're still frightened when he eventually shows himself, but you don't bolt, and he keeps his fangs hidden behind his lips as he smiles and introduces himself, as he lets you pet over his rounded ears and admit you've never met a hybrid quite like him before. you're so unfamiliar with big cats, you don't even register him as a carnivore, much less a threat - taking him by the hand and showing him all of your favorite shortcuts through the forest (all the shortcuts the wolves don't know about, you assure him), all your favorite places to hide when something tries to take a bite out of you. you go on and on about how much you hate wolves, how mean bears can be, how hard it can be to find a watering hole the alligators haven't already gotten to - imparting all your well-earned wisdom onto your new companion without so much as a second thought. if it wasn't such an endearing display, he might've started to think just a little less of you.

when he finally does lunge, it's far too late to get away. Not that you don't try - it's adorable, watching your hoofed feet kick at air, your teary eyes darting to every possible escape route before your instincts realize that you're already trapped, already pinned underneath his larger body. if he wanted to, he could've taken a bite of you right then and there, but you're such a precious thing - so fast and so, so trusting - it just feels wrong not to see how much of a chase he can get out of you.

maybe, if you really manage to impress him, he'll decide to put all that endurance of yours to good use <3

[gayforolderwomen]

You wanted to be touched didn't you?

Pairing: dark!Agatha x reader + hinted at Dark!Rio x reader

Agatha and Rio have kidnapped you, they've left you completely alone and isolated for months in hopes that you become touched starved, it works and Agatha uses it to her advantage

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, non-con, mommy kink, fingering (r receiving), kidnapping, manipulation, implied mind control, Stockholm syndrome, extremely brief breast play, r has a pussy, r is referred to as a girl, use of 'good girl', touched deprived r, panty soaking, slight overstim, mention of a strap-on, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: this is a dark fic please pay attention to the tags! This is my first fic so please be nice and there's probably going to be some spelling/grammar mistakes sorry lol

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

You don't know how long it's been

One moment you were walking peacefully in the woods the next two women appeared and you passed out, you woke up in this cell and ever since then it's been silence. No footsteps above, no muffled voices, no human interaction at all

Your meals just appear at the same three times everyday, the cell window too high up and small to tell where you are but at least it gives you a sense of time

It's been roughly three months you think since they took you, you don't know who they are or why they did this but the thing that confuses you the most is that they haven't even come here. No visits at all and it's starting to get lonely, you even tired calling out a few times but recived no response

All you have is the confines of the cell, you sit on the old mattress that's been your bed for the past few months and suddenly a door opens

Your heart leaps as footsteps descend the stairs and she appears. Fear lingers in your chest but the woman approaches the cell with a warm, deceptively kind smile on her face, as if her softness could vanish any minute but you'll take anything right now

"Agatha, Agatha harkness" she states with soft credence

Without waiting for your name Agatha opens the cell door and watches your reaction carefully, you stay still for a moment studying the woman. She's definitely one of the women that took you but she's being so kind and at least she's talking to you

Against your better judgement you stand up from the mattress and hug yourself slightly suddenly feeling awfully touch deprived

Agatha smirks slightly and slowly approaches you. Once she reaches you she cups your face in her hands, her touch gentle and grounding

You almost immediately nuzzle into her plams as if it were the most natural thing in the world, easily lulled into a false sense of security as Agatha's thumb caresses your cheek. She coos at you quietly and brings you closer to her body, her strength a subtle reminder of her power in the situation

"Sorry to keep you waiting little one I just had to make sure you'd be a good girl for me, you're a good girl aren't you darling?"

She asks with a sultry lilt, one of her hands moving from your cheek to wrap around your waist possessively, pulling you flush against her, her other hand still gently cupping your cheek caressing it almost as a distraction to her firmer grip on your waist

You don't even pick up on the implications of her question and just nod, nuzzling into her hand a little more just greatful to be touched

"Use your words little one" Agatha gently chastises her grip loosening slightly as a warning

You almost instinctively panic when her grip loosens desperate not to lose the gentle touch you been without for months

"I'll be good, I am good. I'm a good girl" you say quickly trying to nuzzle into her palm again, an aching need in your body to be caressed

Agatha smiles, a slight darkness flashes in her eyes, too quick for you to take notice. Her grip goes back to how it was cupping your cheek with one hand, the other holding your waist to hers

She leans in slightly, her hot breath tickling your ear "that's a good girl, you deserve a reward for being so good, don't you think darling?" She husks in your ear her tone no longer disguising the lust it's laced with

Agatha doesn't wait for your response this time and her hand leaves your cheek, prompting a small pout from you which Agatha chuckles at

"such a sweet little thing, so desperate for mommy's touch hm?" Agatha teases slightly, pulling back just enough so that her hand can slowly slide down your neck to your chest brushing against your breasts in a fleeting touch

Your cheeks flush slightly heat stirring in your stomach at the name Agatha gave herself. Before you can think clearly Agathas hand cups your breast through your clothes feeling your nipple harden easily, she smirks her plan has worked perfectly, leaving you alone for months waiting for your body to start craving any kind of touch and now you're as responsive and pliable as she had hoped

Her other hand now leaves your waist instead brushing across your stomach occasionally dipping under your shirt to feel the soft skin beneath, her long fingers teasing your pantie line watching your face with a careful determination

The action makes the heat in your stomach grow and you let out a sound of desperation and confusion, almost a whine, you've been aching for another persons touch but this isn't what you imagined

"Wh- i-" you stammer before Agatha raises her hand that was cupping your breast to shush you

"shh baby girl, mommy's gonna make you feel good, you wanted to be touched didn't you?" She says before her fingers slip under your panties and press against your clit, eliciting a gasp from you and making your hips buck involuntarily

Agatha smiles holding back a laugh "see doesn't this feel good darling?" She says as she starts pressing circles against your clit

A strangled moan escapes your lips and despite your mind reeling at the sudden change in situation you feel your body reacting, your folds starting to become slick with arousal, your hips bucking slightly more

Agatha presses her body against yours and starts waking you back until you hit the wall of the cell "oh baby you need me so bad don't you? Mommy's got you" she coos in an almost teasing manor enjoying seeing the way your body betrays your mind

Her thumb is now circling your clit occasionally pressing down hard to hear your beautiful sounds. She can't hold herself back anymore and slips two fingers inside you with little resistance, your warm slick walls enveloping her digits

You let out a whimper that quickly turns into a moan as she curls her fingers inside of you, the pain from the stretch mixing with the pleasure

"Does that feel good baby? You like mommy's fingers inside you?" Agatha husks in the your ear before starting to leave hot open-mouthed kisses on your neck

You let out an almost pathetic moan in response your mind suddenly too foggy to speak, it's odd though your mind was perfectly clear a mere second ago

Her fingers start to pump in and out of you, giving you no chance to think further, curling them perfectly in time with her thumb strokes on your clit. Her other hand holding you firmly against the wall trapping you completely. Your hips buck and twitch desperately not even knowing if you're trying to get away or want more

Agatha moans softly at the sight of you so confused and desperate, your walls clenching around her fingers each time they push in

"That's it's baby take mommy's fingers, you're so good for me" she says a hint of pride in her voice and she pushes a third finger into you once again giving you no time to think as she fucks you against the cell wall

The sound of your moans echo through the basement and your hips start to shake slightly the pleasure pain starting to get too intense, the mysterious fog clouding your brain coaxing you to just give in, Agathas lips still pressing against your neck as her fingers pump into you relentlessly her thumb curling your clit with increased power

"Go on baby, let go, cum for mommy" she commands in your ear before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue demanding entrance and dominating your mouth claiming you completely

The fog in your brain thickens feeling almost like a blanket wrapping around you, lulling you into security and compliance

Agatha keeps you pinned to the wall as your legs start to shake, her mouth still dominating yours swallowing the slurry of moans you produce and then it happens, a high pitched moan, your legs shaking so badly that Agatha is the only thing holding you up, pleasure crashing through your body and cum enveloping Agathas fingers soaking your panties in the process

Agatha finally pulls back from the kiss still holding you up to look at you, your face flushed, chest heaving, legs trembling, it's the most perfect sight to Agatha. She keeps pumping her three fingers in and out of you making you ride the high of your orgasm, her thumb pressing hard against your now swollen clit before pulling out and stepping back making you fall to the floor with a thud but the fog in your brain barely registers the pain

Agatha takes the fingers that where inside you and brings them to her mouth licking off the cum with a moan "oh sweet girl you taste delicious, I wish I could devour you right now but it's Rio's turn"

Agatha says and suddenly the other woman that took you appears in the cell. Rio, she stands over your trembling body and leans down, her hand dipping beneath your panties and proding at your entrance feeling how wet and stretched out it is

You want to squirm away, your body already tired and overstimulated but the fog keeps you still, keeps you compliant

"You did good my love, she should take my cock nicely" Rio states with a low growl of approval "clear her mind though, you know I like it when they're feisty"

It's then you notice Rio is completely bare, apart from a harness fastend around her hips

[wandaslittlepsycho]

𝜗𝜚 pervy!roommate!wanda who offers to massage you when you come home from a late night shift, pulling you into her room insisting that you had a long day and you wouldn’t be a bother.

she plops down onto her bed and sits you down between her legs, making sure you were both positioned towards her mirror. she’d listen to your small pants as she hungrily stared at the reflection of your blissed expression. Lightly biting the corner of your lip, looking down at your lap and letting out small, shameful moans when she’d get just the right spot.

she started manipulating you into saying lewd things, like easing up the pressure every now and then to hear you whine so she could innocently ask you what’s wrong.

“What’s wrong, bunny?”

“Harder Wands…”

“How does that feel?”

“So, so good..”

“Yeah?”

when she would “go away” every other weekend, she’d actually be in a motel watching you through security cameras she had placed all over the house. most nights, you would come back home after a day with your friends and end up passed out on the living room couch watching a sitcom. if you missed her, you’d text her asking how her day was or scroll through her Instagram.

but if she was lucky, she would catch you sneaking a hand underneath the fabric of your shorts, watching you rub yourself while watching girls kiss from your MacBook or phone.

she sits in a motel bed, spying on you as you finger or tease yourself in the comfort of your room, a false sense of security pulling you into a state of unreal tranquility.

sometimes she feels guilty because she knows everyone deserves their privacy. but she’s only looking out for you. what if some pervert decided to walk in and take advantage of you? she couldn’t let that happen.

If anything you should be grateful, she’s always making sure you’re safe. she loves you, she’ll always love you.

she’ll never stop loving you. ₊˚⊹ 𐙚

[thecloudsaremyhome]

Headcanons

☆Yandere prototype x teen reader☆

Tw: infantilization, yandere behavior, stalking, manipulation.

• let’s first start off on how you would meet the prototype let’s say you arrived at playcare in search of your missing friends, who have been missing for a few weeks now, they have been last seen going here so that’s what you think you should start your search for them.

・Once you enter playtime co. You encounter huggy wuggy, who starts to hunt after you, after successfully escaping you come across poppy and accidentally free her.

• then chapter 2 events occur between you and mommy longs and that’s when you get in contact with kissy missy and poppy and form an alliance with them to stop the feral toys and the prototype.

・then chapter 3 events occur when you get into contact with Ollie/ the prototype that’s when the yandere tendencies start to really pick up.

• you see you don’t know Ollie is the prototype in disguise using his many voices to trick you into trusting him, which works of course for you and poppy, the thing is he just though of you as another playing thing a first, a naive child trying to be the hero in the horrors in this factory, it amuses him of how naive you could be.

・truly it was so easy to get you to trust him just with a play phone! But some part of him feels guilty ler say for taking advantage of a child like you. Your just trying to survive like everyone else

・the longer he communicates with you the more he starts to grow fond of you. You really do still have that child like innocence to you. Just like the orphans.

・but when he finds out about yarnby and the doctor attacking you to say he's pissed is an understatement he's furious. He doesn't know why he feels so protective over you but he can't stop.

・so he does what any sane person would do an lures you to him in th false sense of security that he needs your help an of course Polly and kissy Missy blissfully unaware allows you to go help Ollie Aka him.

・well your literally walking into his trap right where he wants you! And once he get his hands in you he will never let you go! Don't worry he will us catnaps sleeping gass to make sure your docile and don't out up to much of a fight.

・but he would never ever hurt you and he will make sure no one does and hell make sure the doctor knows that as well and abides by it. Because all in all he truly controls this place not the doctor no matte how arrogant the man is.

・so please don't scream or cry or put up a fight I know his appreance i want th most pleasing but he promises to take care of you! Your a baby after all! You shouldn't even be here it's dangerous but don't worry he will always protect you.

And you'll never leave him ever

[padawansuggest]

Anakin: What are you doing?

Cody: …I’m swapping mine and so General Kenobi’s blankets.

Anakin: Huh. It’s one thing to be disturbed that the laundry mixed them up, but I didn’t think he smelled that bad :/

Cody: …oh, no. Other way around. This is my blanket. I’m gonna shove it under his head so he can smell me and lull himself into a false sense of security. It helps him sleep. Like a rescue strill with anxiety sleeping on their owners sweater.

Anakin: wow

Rex: :/ maybe I should try that with mine.

Anakin: wtf rude

Rex: I’ll do it later. I’ll switch them out while you’re already sleeping so I can manipulate you into seeing me as a security blanket that you refuse to get rid of.

Anakin: …you two are assholes.

Cody: Tell us something new.

[alessiathepirate]

Squid Game

SMILE FOR ME: Hwang In-ho/Frontman/Oh Young-il x fem!reader

Summary: Manipulation - that was his greatest weapon...

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, referenced PTSD and/or trauma, emotional manipulation, referenced death, referenced betrayal, heavily implied obsession, (Gi-hun and reader are besties, since the writer aka me loves him too much to not baby him)

●●●

She doesn't smile anymore...

That was In-ho's first thought when he met her in person for the first time.

And oddly enough - since he played a pretty big part in the cause of that - he really missed that: her smile.

There used to be something about it - something special.

In-ho had watched and sat through his fair share of games; and during those every player's positivity, hope and smile disappeared after the very first game. They acknowledged the consequences of failure - and accepted the fact that there's nothing they could possibly do about it. Even if they found some allies or friends, they never smiled again. Not really. Only with those false, fake ones.

But not her.

They were different - her and Gi-hun, especially.

Even after red light, green light; after the dalgona; after the tug of war -- they still smiled, especially with each other. They sat down to eat with their group and they shared stories, the old and fun ones, and those could make their teammates chuckle.

In reality, In-ho thought, it must've been to keep themselves and the others calm. To give them a false sense of security and hope.

In-ho couldn't exactly say when was the exact time she stopped smiling. The marble game; player 067's death or player 218's betrayal... It didn't really matter - the when. What mattered was the fact that she changed - and In-ho didn't like, even though he should've.

There was still a small shine in her eyes whenever she talked to Gi-hun and Gi-hun alone, but it wasn't the same...

It wasn't the same at all.

●●●

"Gi-hun..." her voice made In-ho turn slightly, as quietly as possible, so he could watch their interaction play out. "I'll take over. You need to get some sleep."

In-ho watched as she sat down next to Gi-hun, her thigh pushing his, so he would get a move on. During moments like these, she almost looked like the old her -- cheery and playful; still, it was only almost.

"You don't have to. I'll keep watch, I'm not tired anyway. You can go back to sleep."

She pushed his thigh again; and even though her lips didn't curl upwards into a smile, her eyes seemed happy.

"You are still a terrible liar, Seong Gi-hun..." her hands pushed his chest, so he would move. "Now go before I make you."

Gi-hun reacted the same way she did - he didn't smile, but the muscles around his eyes softened. He seemed calm, almost safe as he looked at her.

"Promise me you'll wake me if anything happens."

Her lips twitched.

"I promise." she punched his shoulder playfully. "Now go."

Gi-hun got up painfully slowly, as if to give her time to change her mind, and then did what she said. He lied down, pulled the covers over himself and after a few moments, he closed his eyes.

In-ho watched her for a while. He witnessed how all the tension and stress disappeared from her shoulders when she thought no one was watching. He saw how she let the sadness she was truly feeling appear on her face.

She seemed oddly calm.

In-ho let the minutes go by, he waited patiently until he was sure no one else was awake; and then he walked up to her, letting her shake in fear from the sudden presence behind her.

"Young-il." she whispered as she let out a long breath. "You scared me."

"My apologies." he said, almost frowning at how she immediatelly went back into her protective shell - she didn't feel comfortable around him, unlike the others, and In-ho didn't like that at all. "Would you mind some company? I can't sleep, we might as well keep watch together."

She looked up at him, clearly contemplating what she should say.

"Be my guest." she said in the end.

He sat down next to her, and watched as she pulled her feet further away from him. Silence began to set in - but In-ho wouldn't let it win. This was the first time he found a chance to talk to her alone, and he wouldn't waste it.

"You and Gi-hun seem to be close."

She turned to look at him in the darkness as if she could figure out his real intentions.

"We are." she said. "I've known him for years. I don't understand how it affects you though."

In-ho almost smiled at the accusatory tone.

"I'm just making conversation." he said, trying to sound kind. "And I noticed that you only talk to him and no one else."

She seemed irritated - ready to curse him out, to tell him to shut up or wake Gi-hun up, so he could come to her rescue.

In the end she just scoffed.

"I don't have much to talk about these days."

"Or smile about." In-ho added and this time he let himself smile at the look on her face. He might as well test her - her and her trust, the holes on her shell. "You seemed ready to sacrifice yourself - during the first game. The same goes for Gi-hun." he tilted his head slightly. "I think I just don't understand what you're doing here. You won the previous game. You have all that money to spend... Yet you two are here; and you seem unhappy."

She swallowed and then took a deep breath. She didn't know what she should say and how she should say it. She was completely at his curiousity's mercy, which didn't seem to have a filter - and she couldn't find the right words for an answer.

In-ho's lips curled upwards and he chuckled before she could come up with an answer. His laugh confused her even more.

"I'm sorry." he continued. "You just don't seem to trust me very much."

She pointed at his jacket's number without hesitation, then at the 'O' sign - the sign what previously had been 'X'. She looked him in the eyes before answering.

"The last 001 I trusted turned out to be a liar and an asshole." she pulled her legs up and hugged her knees to her chest. "So I apologize for not trusting you. Besides, your name is Young-il and you are player 001?" she scoffed. "Either the guards have a great sense of humor and they gave you that number, or you're a bad guy with zero creativity."

In-ho wanted to laugh. Really laugh. Even though her trust-issues made her unable to have fun, they made her more fun.

What would be the right reaction? Half a chuckle maybe, plus a small smile.

Then, In-ho waited. He waited for her facade to break - and it did. Because even though she changed, she still had characteristics every human had -- well, most had --: regret.

He waited for her too feel remorse. He waited until she was drowning in it for being too harsh. He waited and didn't say anything.

"That big pile of bloody cash is in a motel room." she said suddenly as she continued to hug her knees.

"What?"

"You wanted to know about the money. Well, it's in a dimly lit motel room." she explained.

In-ho chuckled. "Really?"

"Yeah." she nodded, but this time there was something about her expression: as if she just admitted to herself that the picture of a fortune in a motel room is oddly funny. "As for the sacrifice part - there's nothing wrong with helping others."

"I'm not saying there is." In-ho explained. "It's just that most people in here are selfish. They would choose to save themselves instead of others." he stayed quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. "But you and Gi-hun still choose to save them. All of them."

She tilted her head.

"I asked myself if I'd like to be a rich murderer or a dead person who chose to save others." she said, her tone turning sad. "I chose the latter." In-ho's lips twitched from trying not to smile, when he noticed that she stretched her legs, no longer being careful around him. "I guess I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I was to ever cause someone's death. Besides, everyone here has someone to go back home to; I don't. Gi-hun's here and my only other friend isn't even really my friend." she shrugged. "So then why not help?"

Her knee almost touched his.

Trust. That was what he wanted.

"People who think they don't matter are the ones who matter the most." In-ho looked at her. "Are you sure that playing hero is the best decision you can make?"

She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

In-ho let out a fake chuckle.

"You have people who love you, who think you are important. I'm sure of it." he leaned forward. "And heroes, even if they succeed in the end, don't usually have an easy journey. There are losses - and consequences."

"You think I don't know that?" she started to get angry again. "What do you know about loss?"

"Everything. Sadly." he sounded more honest than he intended to be - and she noticed it too.

Regret. What a beautiful human emotion.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry." she said as she looked at him with remorse in her eyes - her body language showed no fear or protection. She gave up, she showed him the real her. "I didn't know."

"No need. You couldn't have known." he gave her a weak smile - he showed weakness so she would do it too. "Although when I sat down I thought we would speak about something more... fun."

The muscles in her cheeks twitched and In-ho knew she was so close to smiling, yet she held it back.

She looked around the room, looked at the beds and the people who were sleeping in them. In-ho followed her gaze.

"Well then..." she began, not yet knowing what she'd say in the end. "You are a good fighter. I mean you beat up two guys without even lifting a finger." the compliment sounded nice coming from her. "Police or military?"

In-ho wanted to grin.

"Good deduction. Both, actually. And thank you."

"I have a friend who's a cop. Well, I don't really know if he is my friend, but he seems nice regardless." she intertwined her fingers. "Next time I see him, if I see him at all; I'll have to ask him if he knows some... ancient martial arts too."

He just chuckled.

"Who knows... He might surprise you."

They stared into the darkness for a second, since one of the other players started to move around. In the end it turned out to be just a woman, who was having a nightmare - she soon sat up in bed while breathing heavily.

"If we're talking about skills..." In-ho began, so he could get her attention once again. "You are surprisingly good at ddakji."

Her lips twitched and he knew he wasn't too far from getting that smile.

"Yeah, I am." she admitted. "I'm much better than Gi-hun at the very least. You should've seen him playing against that recruiter guy. He was horrible! Absolutely horrible!"

"And you?"

"I beat him almost always. He must've been... quite annoyed."

Suddenly her lips curled upwards into an honest, teasing smile. The muscles under her eyes twitched, as if they have forgotten how to act during a smile.

In-ho found himself smiling too. It was like going back in time and seeing her old self.

Sure, this smile wasn't that pure and innocent, but it was a start. A pretty good start.

"You know, Young-il, I wish I could say the same, but you were God-awful at paengi chigi..." she giggled and pushed her fist against her teeth to not be too loud.

"Yeah, I was. It's not one of my proudest moments."

She continued to laugh and by the look on her face she herself couldn't tell what was so funny. But once she started to giggle there was no going back - years or surpressed emotions came running out as small wrinkles of joy appeared on her face.

In-ho joined her and as the final test, he put his hand on her knee, then he leaned in.

"Quiet, you'll wake up the others..." he said through a small laugh.

She let his hand rest on her leg as she tried to quiet down.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know what's so funny - but damn I needed this."

Got you, he thought as she leaned back, resting her bodyweight on her hands, while letting his touch linger.

Despite everything, all that change, she was still the same person with the same weak points on her shell. In-ho knew them all - he had watched her play her very first game.

"I missed your smile..." the sentence rolled off his tounge before he could've stopped himself.

She giggled, not noticing the major give-away on his perfect mask.

"Careful..." she warned him and for a moment In-ho thought she put the small inconsistencies together -- but then she continued: "I might think you're flirting with me."

"I wouldn't even dream of it." he said; realizing she let her vigilance leave her completely with a grin.

"Good." she sighed. "Now tell me, is there anything else you absolutely suck at?"

In the end In-ho got what he wanted - he always does. Trust, honesty - smiles... It didn't matter.

He had her on the hook too, her and everyone else, and there was no amount of doubt what would be able to ruin his perfectly painted picture about himself and the situation.

Doubt. He could use it against them.

That's what he does best after all.

[followingthebutterflies7]

Sweeter Than Honey | Part One: The Game

Mob Boss!Spencer Agnew x FBI!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Series Summary: You were sent undercover to infiltrate the world of the most dangerous mob boss on the FBI’s list, Spencer Agnew. But the more you find out about him, the more you lose yourself.

Series Warnings: Mature themes that include emotional manipulation, psychological tension, dubious consent, morally grey relationships, violence, organized crime, and mild language.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part Six

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

Part One: The Game

You were built to ruin men like him. So why does it feel like you’re the one being led to slaughter?

The first rule of your honeypot training: they can’t know you want something.

Desire must look effortless. Seduction must feel accidental. You don’t chase the target. You become the thing they chase.

You learned that early, somewhere between the controlled flirtation drills and the hours of psychological deconstruction in sterile underground rooms. They stripped you down, not your body but your mind, in rooms colder than morgues until there was nothing left but raw, pliable instinct. 

Then they built you back up, piece by piece. A different version of yourself, designed to fit the voids inside others. You were taught to map a man’s mind the way others mapped coastlines: to find where he was soft, where he was strong, where he could drown.

Comfort. Chaos. Curiosity. Control.

You learned to be whatever the moment demanded. Whichever hook would sink fastest into the heart, or throat, of the mark.

You were the FBI’s best recruit, the golden child of the honeypot program. Every lesson they had put in front of you, you had devoured like a starving dog. All the tests you were put through, you had passed with the kind of effortless precision that made others whisper in jealous awe.

Every operation you touched ended the same way: completed, clean, and without a trail.

Your instructors said you adapted like water, slipping through cracks and reshaping yourself into whatever was needed. You preferred to be compared to honey, patient, trapping, and sickly sweet. 

You were cunning. Ruthless. Resilient.

And you were beautiful. But not in the way that mattered.

You were beautiful like a loaded gun left on a nightstand: inviting from a distance, deadly up close.

That was why you were their best.

Because you didn’t just know how to make men want you. You knew how to make power want you.

Still, this time felt different.

Because this time, the target wasn’t just dangerous. 

He was danger.

“Spencer Agnew,” your handler, Claire Marlowe, said as she slid the slim black dossier across the table like it was a loaded weapon. Her fingers brushed the edge of it briefly, a silent warning.

The FBI's underground briefing room in D.C. hummed with cold fluorescent light. No windows. No clocks. No distractions. It was sterile, quiet, and cold, humming with tension of deep silence. The kind of place where reality was optional and morality was a suggestion.

You didn’t touch the folder yet. You knew better. Marlowe always delivered the worst of it first.

Marlowe’s gaze was razor-sharp, fingers steepled in front of her. "He's not a hammer," she said. "He's a scalpel. Precise. Surgical. Patient. He slices right through his enemies with a soft voice, expensive suits, and exquisite elegance. He lures everyone past a false sense of security, and into safety and comfortability. He doesn't bludgeon his way to power, he dissects his enemies while they're still smiling at him."

You nodded once, silent.

“He slices through his enemies with soft words and softer hands,” she went on. “You’ll want to underestimate him. Everyone does. That’s why they’re all dead.”

You let the silence stretch.

“I won’t underestimate him,” you said.

Marlowe arched a brow, skeptical but not argumentative. “He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. But bodies drop when he says jump. Political leverage, international trafficking networks, arms deals. We've only scratched the surface of what he’s done. And now he’s started laundering through legitimate logistics contracts. He’s starting to buy himself into respectability.”

You met her gaze. She leaned back, exhaling. “That’s why we need you, Agent Dahlia.”

You opened the file. And stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

Spencer Agnew’s photo was clipped to the first page. You weren’t sure what you expected. A brute, maybe. A thug with blood under his nails. Not this.

Spencer Agnew looked like a man who belonged in a penthouse suite above the city. The man in the photo was tailored to perfection. Charcoal suit, slightly messy curls, a half-smile so slight you might have missed it if you weren’t trained to look for the little things. 

His eyes were dark and sharp, but with a detached air, like he was already five moves ahead on a board you didn’t even know you were playing. Every bit the predator who knew he could play with his food.

You weren’t new to infiltration. You’d seduced tech brokers, cartels, crooked hedge fund heirs. But none of them had a reputation like his. 

They called him the Gentleman Reaper. And no one ever saw him coming.

Your stomach tightened. Not with fear, but with something colder, sharper.

Marlowe slid another folder across the table towards you. It contained a carefully crafted undercover persona, put together by the FBI’s best, your new life.

Your new identity was Elise Hawthorne. Ivy-educated logistics consultant with offshore shell companies, a brilliant paper trail, and a long resume of profitable, morally gray ventures. Believable. Polished. Just dangerous enough to catch a man like Agnew’s attention.

“You’d be inserted through a fake corporate front, an intelligence-created laundering contact.” Marlowe says. “Win his trust. Earn a seat in his inner circle. Gather intel. Bring him down.”

 All roads led to one destination: proximity to Spencer. 

"You’ll gather everything you can. Names. Accounts. Evidence. And when the time’s right-" She mimed pulling a trigger. "We take the whole empire down."

But first? You had to survive his gatekeeper. Standing between you and Spencer Agnew was his right hand.

Alex Tran.

Marlowe didn’t sugarcoat it.

“He’ll interrogate you before you ever breathe the same air as Agnew,” she said. “And he doesn’t care about manners or boundaries. He's a former intelligence, some black ops ghost, who vanished after a mission in Bangkok. Rumor is Agnew pulled him from a kill team and gave him purpose. Or maybe Tran found him. No one really knows.”

You tapped the edge of the file.

“What does he want?”

Marlowe's eyes glinted. “To protect Agnew. At any cost.”

“He'll vet you first," she continues. "And he doesn't play games."

Neither did you.

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

The first time you met Alex Tran, it was like walking into a den of knives.

You were taken to a penthouse in Manhattan under the guise of a private consulting contract. The residence was all glass and steel. No personal touches. No softness. Just the subtle hum of a building too secure to be anything but a fortress.

Your heels clicked softly against polished floors as you entered a living room designed for quiet intimidation. Polished stone. Chrome accents. A view that swallowed Manhattan whole.

And there he was. Alex Tran. 

He was leaning against a black-paneled wall, dressed in matte black, arms crossed. Cold eyes. Movements so still he barely seemed to breathe. Watching you walk in like he was memorizing the sound of your footsteps.

“You’re early,” he said.

You smiled coolly.  “Professional habit.”

He said nothing, just studied you with the detachment of a scientist examining a specimen he didn’t believe was real.

“Sit,” he said, nodding at the leather high-back chairs. “Let’s begin.” You did.

“You come highly recommended,” he says, standing behind the chair across from you, not sitting. “I don’t trust recommendations.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

The interrogation didn’t feel like one at first. It was conversational, subtle. Questions layered in questions. He asked about your past contracts, your strategies, the way you handled risk. Then the tone shifted.

“Tell me, what’s your price for betrayal?” he asked, casual as a knife slipped between the ribs.

You didn’t blink. “That depends. Who’s betraying who?”

For the first time, something flickered behind his eyes. Interest? Approval?

Maybe.

“You’re clever,” he said. 

“You wouldn’t have let me through the door if I wasn’t.”

Another pause. Then, softly: “You lie like someone who’s done it for a living. That’s dangerous. For you.”

Your heart tapped a slow warning in your chest. You allowed yourself a fractional shrug. "It’s part of the job."

"Not the job you think you’re interviewing for," Alex said, stepping closer. "You’re not here to help Spencer Agnew. You’re here to survive him."

The room seemed to tighten around you.

“You think Spencer’s going to trust you,” Alex said, voice like icewater. “But here’s the thing, he doesn’t need new people. He doesn’t want them. I’m the reason you’re even being considered for a meeting. I’m also the reason it could be your last.”

You met his gaze. Unflinching.

“I’m not here to replace anyone. I’m here to solve problems.”

Alex tilted his head slightly. “Then let’s see how you handle one.”

He was suddenly uncomfortably close. Almost breathing down your neck.

“Your name,” he said.

“Elise Hawthorne.”

“Wrong. Try again.”

“Elise-”

His hand hit the table.

“You’re a liar.”

You didn’t flinch. Your training was a steel wall around your pulse.

“Everyone in this business is a liar,” you said calmly. “What matters is what I can do for him.”

Alex studied you like he could see the gears in your mind turning.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

“You’ll get your meeting.” He decides. “I’ll be watching you. Every second.” He waves you off.

You get up from your chair and walk calmly, even-paced, towards the door. Alex calls after you. You paused in the doorway.

His mouth tilted into something that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

“Just remember," he said, voice almost gentle. "Spencer’s not the only one who kills for a living."

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

You waited a week until any instructions came for your meeting with Spencer Agnew. A note on embossed paper had appeared on your kitchen table in your assigned undercover apartment. In dark ink were the instructions, just a date, time, and dress code. 

A car pulled up in front of your apartment on the day. Not a second early or late. Your car door was opened for you, and you were escorted to the meeting location. Same city, different level of hell.

Your meeting with Spencer wasn’t hosted in a flashy club or a cold boardroom. It was a private speakeasy-style lounge beneath a closed restaurant. There was no signage, no cameras, only the faint thump of jazz through the walls and the metallic scent of money in the air. The kind of place where the carpet muffled every footstep and the walls drank secrets.

Security was invisible but omnipresent. Eyes followed you down the hall like ghosts. Your heartbeat was steady, but something coiled in your stomach, a quiet, anticipatory dread.

This was it.

Everything about the mission so far had felt technical. Strategic. You were the player and the board. But now, walking into this curated underworld, it felt less like a game and more like stepping onto a stage. And you weren’t entirely sure who you were playing anymore.

A hostess led you through the velvet curtain and into a room bathed in low amber light. Your heels sank into the plush carpet as you walked further away from the safety of the exit. The whole thing left less like walking into a negotiation and more like stepping onto a stage.

Then you saw him.

Spencer Agnew.

He was seated at the end of a dark mahogany table, backlit by low golden sconces, looking like a king in exile. A glass of something expensive sat untouched beside him. One leg crossed over the other. Perfectly still.

He didn’t look up right away.

You took in the tailored charcoal suit, the undone cufflinks, hair curling rebelliously against his temples. The sharp edge of his jaw softened only slightly by the curl of his lips, like he knew a secret no one else did. Like he was the secret.

You felt his gaze before he even looked up. When he did, it was like a slow burn.

Then his eyes met yours.

Dark. Intelligent. Bored, at first, as they slid over you like a hand tracing a weapon’s edge. Not hurried. Not surprised. 

Then, something else.

Recognition? Curiosity? A flicker of interest? You weren’t sure. But it landed.

And suddenly you weren’t FBI. You weren’t Elise. You were seen, and you didn’t know how he’d done it.

“Ms. Hawthorne,” he said, voice smooth, warm, and utterly disarming. “I hear you solve problems.”

You stepped forward, unhurried, measured.

You managed a soft smile. “Only the expensive ones.”

He smiled back. A real one, this time. Slow. Dangerous.

“Good,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Because I have a few.”

He raised two fingers. A glass appeared in front of you. 

You didn’t touch the drink they offered. He noticed.

The conversation started innocently enough, unfolding like a dance. You were deliberate in your steps, feints, and flourishes. You talked about your fabricated background, your “expertise” in laundering sensitive funds through unstable foreign markets. You were smooth, measured, confident. Everything your training demanded.

But Spencer had a way of listening that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. It wasn’t what he said, it was the way he watched you. Calculated. Curious. Quietly… amused.

“Tell me,” he said, swirling the amber liquor in his glass without drinking it. “Why this line of work? You could be running a legitimate firm. A big one. Why take on clients like me?”

You tilted your head. “Because clean money doesn’t come with nearly as much satisfaction.”

His brow lifted. “Danger turns you on?”

You smiled like it was a joke. But neither of you laughed.

There was a beat of silence too heavy to ignore. His gaze locked on yours again. This time it was colder. Testing.

“I don’t like games,” he said softly.

“Neither do I,” you replied, steady.

Another silence. Then:

“But you’re playing one,” he murmured. “Aren’t you?”

Your throat dried, but you didn’t blink. “If I were,” you said, “I’d be very good at it.”

Spencer leaned back slightly, eyes still on you.

“I think you might be.”

You didn’t reply.

You watched as his gaze unraveled you. Not your story, but you.

And for the first time, a cold trickle of doubt slid under your skin.

Spencer Agnew didn't look at you like a mark.

He looked at you like a puzzle.

Something to be solved.

Something to be wanted.

Something to be broken.

“You’re not afraid of me?” He asks. 

"If I were," you said, "I wouldn’t be here."

For the first time, Spencer laughed, a low, quiet sound, more vibration than voice.

It was almost...genuine. Almost.

When the meeting ended, you stood. So did he.

He offered a hand, not for a shake, but to take yours gently in his, like a kiss might follow. You placed your hand in his, but he didn’t lift it to his mouth. Just held it.

You let your hand linger in his just a moment longer than necessary. Enough to signal an invitation. Enough to hold a knife behind your back.

His hand was warm. His eyes were colder than ever.

His eyes flicked to your lips. Back to your eyes.

And when he let go, you swore you could still feel his touch branded into your skin.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said, voice like silk and smoke.

But you had the distinct, sinking feeling he’d already made a decision. And whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be about business. 

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

You didn’t exhale until you were back in the black town car that had brought you in.

The streets of Manhattan slid past the tinted windows, but your mind was still inside that velvet-lined room. Inside that amber gaze. You touched your wrist, where his hand had rested.

You should’ve felt power. Progress. Triumph.

Instead, you felt seen. Not as Elise Hawthorne, not as the FBI’s Agent Dahlia, but as something closer to yourself. And that wasn’t part of the plan.

You felt utterly disarmed after your meeting with Spencer. Like he had taken all your defences, all the knowledge of your fake identity and mission and stripped them from you as he had seen right through you. But as the fog that clouded your brain like the smoke from the speakeasy, you clung to two things you did know. 

One, he was interested. Two, you were already in over your head. 

And somewhere in the back of your mind, a single thought coiled tight: You weren't sure you wanted to climb out.

Marlowe was waiting in the basement of the apartment when you returned, a secure location for you two to meet. She had a coffee in one hand, suspicion in the other, and a frown etched deep between her brows.

"Well?" she asked.

You kicked off your heels, letting exhaustion hit like a delayed blow.

“He’s interested,” you said, voice low. Marlowe didn’t smile.

“Interested,” she echoed.

You dropped onto the armchair, rolling your neck. “I’m in. He’s giving me access to a tier-two contract, movement logistics. Alex Tran will supervise.”

Marlowe raised a brow. “You passed Tran’s screening?”

“Barely.”

You didn’t mention how close Alex had gotten. How much he had seen.

Marlowe crossed her arms. “Good. That means it’s working.”

She tossed you a burner phone. “You’ll report every 48 hours. No exceptions. If you miss a check-in, we’ll assume you’re compromised and move in.”

“Understood.”

“You look rattled.”

You hesitated.

Then: “He doesn’t act like a man afraid of being caught. He acts like the world already belongs to him.”

Marlowe gave a dry smile. “It does. That’s why we’re here.”

That night, you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the encounter.

His voice. His stillness. His quiet dissection of you like he already knew the things you hadn’t said.

You told yourself it was tactical. That it was good he noticed you. You needed him to.

But something about Spencer’s gaze didn’t feel like simple interest. It felt like recognition. And that was dangerous.

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

The next day, you were back at the Agnew Syndicate’s Manhattan front, a sleek logistics office disguised as a boutique firm. You were introduced to staff, led through the maze of operations, briefed on files that were mostly for show. Your cover identity was airtight. Your credentials flawless.

But you still felt eyes on you.

Alex Tran wasn’t in the office that morning.

He arrived just after lunch, moving like a shadow, silent and perfectly controlled. He said nothing to you at first, just watched as you took a call from a “client” and as you made notes in your new desk.

Then, finally, he approached.

He didn’t speak until everyone else was gone.

“You did better than I expected,” he said.

You didn’t turn around. “Is that a compliment?”

“No.”

You stood slowly. “You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone. But you?” He stepped closer. “You’re lying about something. I don’t know what. Yet.”

You swallowed.

He tilted his head. “But I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re not afraid of Spencer. Not the way most people are.”

You didn’t answer.

“You should be,” he whispers.

There was silence between you. Then he added, almost too quietly: “And if you’re not careful, he won’t be the one to get hurt.”

He turned and walked away before you could respond.

That night, you sat by your apartment window watching the city breathe below. The burner phone buzzed once, a coded ping from Marlowe.

“Status?”

You didn’t answer immediately.

Your reflection stared back at you in the glass, half shadow, half smirk. The city lights blur into gold and blood against the dark glass. 

You’d spent your whole career becoming exactly what people needed to see.

But Spencer?

He hadn’t looked at you like a solution. He’d looked at you like a question he wanted to solve. And you weren’t entirely sure you wanted him to stop trying.

Somewhere out there, Spencer Agnew was waiting.

And for the first time in your life, you weren’t sure who was hunting who.

[lemonade4wanda]

Isolation

Part two of the craving you series (part 1)

Dark! Wanda Maximoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - you settle into your new job while Wanda undos your life

Warnings - manipulation, dark Wanda, obsessive Wanda, unhealthy obsession, breaking and entering, theft, bribery, catnapping, Wanda calls herself mommy, not proofread again srry

Words - 1.8k

A/n - this took me ages to write srry, I still think part one is better tbh

When you first got the job as Wanda's personal assistant you expected it to be strange like the meeting you'd had in her office prior, the one in which she'd has you begging on your knees. Much to your surprise however Wanda was more professional than ever, keeping to herself and only talking about work matters. Little did you know this was because she was too busy eyeing you up to make conversation.The job itself wasn't much too difficult either perhaps even easier than your original job and for the same wage. Your days consisted of planning phone calls, picking up mail, getting her lunch and coffees, taking notes in meetings, arranging taxis, responding to emails and then collapsing in to bed with your darling cats.

Wanda watched on eagerly as you slipped into a blissful false sense of security over the weeks working. Enjoying every second especially since she got to gaze at you every second of the day. The way you did your hair each morning, how you rolled around your wheeled chair had you been sat too long, the same pen you always fiddled with in meetings, how your nose scrunched when your were confused, the cuteness of your little yawns when you were tired. It was all the little quirks she hadn't got to see in you before that she grew to love now.

Her obsession love for you only grew the more time you'd spent with her. Your little smiles and nervous way of talking had her fighting back blush. Wanda was always ever so excited for you to go out on some pointless errand so she could take a look in your bag, one time even being lucky enough to find your treasured journal. Her favourite page, which she took photos of so she could re read it anytime, read as; 'my boss Wanda has been more kind than I could ever wish for, with giving me a new job instead of just throwing me out onto the streets. I wish she could know how grateful I am to still be employed as she could have easily had rid of me. I've always had such a good gut feeling about her as a boss and it's finally been proved correct.

I'd never admit this aloud as I don't think it's appropriate for work but I think Wanda is possibly one of the most pretty women I've ever met, she always has a radiant smile when she looks at me joined with such cute freckles.' Oh if only you knew how Wanda swooned when she read that entry.

Slowly though this new found closeness was not enough for Wanda, she felt as if your gratefulness was dwindling and the time you spent together was hardly enough for what she craved. For what she needed.

Wanda needed a new way to make you come to her to make you rely on her. She needed something you loved, she just had to think of what. That's when she figured it out, she was watching you through her computer one night as you lay in bed peacefully sleeping beside your cats. She knew how much you loved them, how lost you'd be without them.

Her plan was simple, tell you she was going out for lunch with a friend when really she was heading over to your flat to take Marlo and Nixie. Arriving at your flat she saw the front door unlocked and tutted to herself, how silly you really were lucky she was looking out for you or someone could have just waltzed right into your home. Stepping through the front door she was overwhelmed with a euphoric feeling of being surrounded by you and your things. Briefly forgetting about the cats she went around your room, going through your wardrobe, admiring your jewellery and lying down in your bed. But all that wasn't enough for Wanda she wanted a little souvenir from her trip and that's exactly what she got. Going back into your wardrobe she carefully went through your underwear drawers deciding to take a matching red lacey set with rhinestoned buckle, you wouldn't need them anyway the only person you should be trying to impressing was her.

After successfully stifling your underwear she moved onto getting the cats. She'd brought her own little carriers for them, Wanda was no monster of course she'd never harm the small animals you held so close she'd just keep them safe and away from you for a while. Marlo was easy enough to convince to get in the carrier being friendly and easy going almost just like you however Nixie was another story hissing and trying to claw at Wanda anytime she tried to pick her up. Lucky for her shed planned this having overheard you discussing with a coworker several weeks ago about how Nixie didn't tolerate strangers unless she had some catnip. Needless to say she'd prepared for this event. Smiling to herself as she poured the catnip into the carrier and trapping the unsuspecting Nixie inside.

The next day at work Wanda hid her smirk well when she saw you shuffle in with puffy bloodshot eyes with big dark circles underneath, deciding to feign concern instead.

"Oh darling, what's up? You can tell me anything." A comforting smile on her face makes you sure you can talk to her about the cats.

"My.. my cats went missing and no one can find them." Your voice is hoarse from crying as you speak and more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

"That's no good at all sweet girl." She stands from behind her desk walking over and engulfing you into a strong hug. "If there's anything I can do to help you at this difficult time don't hesitate to let me know." She tells you in a warm voice as she pulls your head closer into her chest making it hard for you not to become flustered.

"Thanks, thank you miss Maximoff." Your stumble through your reply while burying yourself into her strong body.

A few days later and your cats still haven't returned and you find yourself further falling into despair.

That's when you find a letter in your house. One that pushes you over the edge. The one you never wanted to see. An eviction notice. It felt like the life you'd fought so hard for, one you'd dreamed of since childhood was being torn apart before your eyes. As if God was punishing you for some unforgivable sin.

Wanda watched on eagerly as she saw you find the eviction note in your pile of post, a sick grin contorting on her face at the sight of your misery, at the knowledge she'd be the one to bring you back up. The one to heal you. The one you'd grow to adore, worship and crave as she did you.

Of course she was at fault for that letter after having heavily bribed your landlord to get rid of you. At first he was much opposed claiming you to be 'one of his best tenants' and how you never missed rent but after seeing the cash being offered to evict you he couldn't help himself. Wanda knew he'd break easily after all Money really is the root of all evil.

When she saw you sobbing at the kitchen table, shaking hands clutching the eviction notice she wished she could comfort you and tell you it'd all be okay. To hold you tight like she did not a few days ago. Wiping the tears from your delicate face, once you were hers you'd never feel this kind of pain again. Your suffering was only temporary but still it broke her heart to see you so down. Obviously she'd never regret what she'd done. It was all for you.

When you were next in work you felt and were sure you looked like hell. All your energy had been spent trying to find somewhere new to stay but all properties nearby were so expensive or just boxes. Your regular floral dresses had been replaced with knit sweaters and plain black trousers as if this was your autumn, the beginning of your end. When you saw Wanda it didn't help the way you felt when she appeared more put together than usual, her suits crisper somehow and jaw sharper as if while your life fell apart hers had blossomed.

"Darling, you look ill has something happened?" She asks with a practised act of sympathy, she already knew exactly what had happened after all she'd orchestrated the undoing of your life.

"My landlord evicted me for no reason and-.. and-.." You felt yourself becoming choked up as you struggled to tell Wanda what had happened. She picked up on your feelings almost as if in tune with your mind and quickly pulled you into her before beginning to stroke up and down your back in comforting patterns.

"Its okay, I'm here darling. Nothing bad will happen just tell mommy what's wrong." Your eyebrows raised at what she called herself but for some inane reason decided against questioning her.

"And.. I cant find anywhere to stay and my-.. m' cats are still missing and I'm gonna be homeless." She knew youd begun crying when she could feel damp on her blouse where your head lay. Wanda pulled your head back to face her and stroked across your cheeks in such a gentle fashion that you felt you legs may give out beneath you.

"Well you could always.. nevermind it wouldn't be appropriate." She says with pause to look down at your face. "Oh screw it. I can't stand to see you go homeless over some stupid eviction, y/n if you wanted you could stay in my home until you find somewhere permanent." What Wanda hadn't quite anticipated was the way your eyes lit up at the suggestion, she thought you'd have needed much more convincing than you did.

"I.. if your sure it wouldn't be a bother."

"Sweet girl you could never bother me."

That night Wanda took you over to her house and gave you a tour. It was the biggest and fanciest place you'd ever been. More things existed than you thought one person could need. She had everything from pools to inside tennis courts, acres full of forest land to a sauna. You finally understood what it must feel like to be rich. Wanda claimed her guest rooms were under renovation so you'd have to share her room for now. When you accepted sleeping next to her she was so ecstatic she could barely hide it behind the mask of sympathy anymore.

Tags: @reginassweetheart @alexawynters

[tokoyamisstuff]

could you do headcanons for Alucard and Anderson both wooing reader?

💀R.I.P. bae good luck with that

General Yandere warning bc there's no way in hell this would go about normally.

What might've started as part of their rivalry, winning you over soon turned into a full-blown obsession for both of them.

They'll go about it in completely different ways, though, with Alucard relying on his intimidating power, while Anderson resorts to manipulation tactics.

For Alucard this whole thing is more of a pastime, an entertaining game he is confident to win. Anderson on the other hand is in absolute denial of his feelings and keeps telling himself that he merely wants to protect you.

The vampire will be very upfront about his affection, showcasing his abilities to subtly threaten you into submission. Because he will get what he wants...one way or another. But you needn't be afraid - if you give yourself to him, his power is also yours.

The Priest is very careful how he presents himself, wanting you to see him from his best side only. He'll hide the deranged parts of himself in order to give you a false sense of trust and security. It's hard to believe a man this kind and considerate could be so twisted underneath.

Iscariot would 100% support his aspirations to 'save' an innocent soul from eternal damnation, especially after he reveals that their church's arch nemesis is keeping you against your will.

Integra would definetly look right past any of Alucard's lies and would not tolerate this kind of behavior against a civilian. Even if you were to comply, she'd probably see the toxicity of this insane power imbalance. So he'll try to keep it a secret from his boss, since her influence would certainly be a hindrance.

Sadly neither of those two men care much about your opinion on that matter. Anderson claims you don't know what's best for you and Alucard just firmly believes you'll come around eventually.

For a while this will continue as a circle of kidnapping you from one another, accompanied with a lot of bloodshed on both sides, dragging members of their respective organizations into their mess and sacrificing them without second thought.

Every time those two clash it'll turn more into peacocking honestly, they care more about showing off and making a great impression on you than actually fighting each other.

However they both would stop at nothing to satiate their desperate need for you, so it's inevitable that at some point one of them has to die in order to finally have you for themselves - let's just hope you've made peace staying with whoever wins.

[yestrday]

here to request yandere blue lock crumbs.. anything would do, whether its headcanons, scenarios etc... i just wanna see you write for any of those feral boys hehe

hm. i'm thinking of yandere! poly! isagi, kurona, & hiori with their darling... grgrglrllrgrlrl

i feel like, kurona would absolutely be passive in this relationship. he's very people-pleaser and less leader, and he's content in doing so. he doesn't quite mind the power imbalance between him and hiori and isagi, and actually thinks it's pretty preferable. it puts him on more equal grounds with you.

isagi is generally nice when you or hiori aren't pushing his buttons... or when he isn't excited. he's never gotten in a fight that hasn't been resolved quickly with kurona, but it's an entirely different situation with hiori. they both find the thrill of riling each other up arousing, while you and kurona (unless you want to join in a fight that you can't handle) just watch on the sidelines.

hiori is also pretty nice, but fakely so. you know he's hiding his sadistic tendencies behind that pleasant country accent of his. more often than not, he's pinching your cheeks, biting your skin, and poking you with a fork. he mostly wins his fights with isagi, but he and kurona have a pretty cozy relationship. you just can't get mad with kurona.

they're both veryyyy different lovers. kurona's quite normal, if it weren't for the fact that he's a bit too devoted. he does whatever you want whenever, so long as you don't try to get away from them. if you ask him, he'll let you out of the house for a walk so long as he goes with you. isagi and hiori have told him multiple times not to, but kurona just can't resist giving you what you want.

isagi could be normal, but he's got that manipulative streak in him. he'll play nice to lull you into a false sense of security before he bullies for being stupid. it's a bit exciting to see you cry and depend on him. of course, isagi's still kinda sane, so he has his domestic moments. he dotes on you a lot when he's in his right mind, needy for your attention and pouty when you don't give it.

hiori's just a sadist all the way through. it would be more bearable if he was just a sadist, but he likes to play nice too. unlike isagi where you don't know when he'll have a personality switch, hiori just outright tortures you while he wears that pretty smile. he'll seat you in his lap as he plays a horror game, kurona and isagi chilling on his sides, while your already shaken nerves are put under even more pressure as you get a first ticket seat to bloody jumpscares. hiori is just psychological warfare in one body.

[loveandleases]

I might be in the minority for this, but what'd be REALLY tasty one day for a POV is Chris and if they have Regrets when they see MC somewhere, happy and laughing, whether with an RO or other friends, and Chris would have a moment, just a moment, where they look at Jade realize what they gave up for...basically nothing. Lost the respect of Kara, somehow made MC's dynamic with Chris even stronger, opened the window for them to spend time with G again-- there's a LOT there. I want to see Chris suffer.

I can't let Cam be the only Clarke to suffer!!!

Chris won't be able to manipulate Jade the way they did MC. I think that's part of what's going to throw them.

Chris was able to lead MC into this false sense of security and that was obviously shattered once they were caught screwing on the island. (and of course mc's parents approving the relationship just added more to it.)

But now...now MC knows better, they're going to be able to do some damage if they want, or not. Having a brutally honest MC is going to cause havok.(You'll be getting some Chris bits here and there.)

[trancylovecraft]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚YANDERE KAEYA HEADCANONS!

ੈ✩‧₊˚FILE: 001

GENDER: Femme CHARACTER: Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) SONG: Breezeblocks - Alt-J

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANDERILLUSTREOUS! MASTERLIST! ✧.*

TYPING: Possessive / Manipulative / Stalker-ish

GENERAL:

✦ I see Kaeya as a very subtle yandere in the sense that you PROBABLY couldn't even tell that he's different from in canon. At first anyways. Kaeya is use to covering up his true intentions and keeping secrets.

✦ Though Kaeya doesn't often show his affection towards you, do NOT fall for it. Him acting friendly is a tactic he uses often to lure people into a false sense of security. Sharing a drink with him can be dangerous, especially if a glass can get you to open up.

✦ He, himself, is good at gathering intel. He is not above sending his connections to keep tabs on you, nor is he above running background checks on the people you hang about with.

✦ He only gets jealous if the people you hang about with seem like an actual threat- For instance, someone like Amber would not be a threat to him considering he both outranks her and is most definetly stronger. However- Someone like Diluc or Jean however..

✦ Kaeya often likes to flaunt his little victories with you over the others. Him displaying friendly physical gestures such as hand holding or embracing is something he welcomes. To him, it sends a message. And considering the amount of situations you get yourself in, it may even provide reassurance that you ARE still alive.

✦ Kaeya is manipulative. No surprises there! You, who is known for their spontaneous desires and whims is a bit of an issue for him, however. His go-to tactics are sweet-words, however he can adjust himself well to a situation, even if you ARE an issue to deal with.

✦ Kaeya likes you so very much because you treat him like a friend. Considering who he is, he doesn't exactly have much of those, and you, naïve as you are, accept him as who he is. And as sweet and endearing as he finds this, it also makes you so very trusting.

✦ Of course- He wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you! He's not that bad of a guy, at least not to you. That's why he occasionally likes to follow you about.. Just to make sure you don't get too reckless. Just to make sure you don't injure yourself..

✦ Whenever you return back from a commission, he questions you subtly, but thoroughly. Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? How about you come get a drink with him and tell him all about it, eh? He wants to know all the details.

✦ Of course, he takes swift note of everything you say. He has a good memory, you know.

✦ And yes- He counts the minutes until you get back from your commission. Any longer than usual and he WILL get unusually worried.

✦ If you DO happen to get injured, expect him to hide all that anxiety and worry behind remarks and irritation. He really is worried- Which is why he's the one that tends to your injuries personally, all the while berating you for making mistakes.

✦ If it WAS a person that did that to you, trust me, you won't be seeing them again. Kaeya will make sure that they disappear off the face of the earth.

✦ As much as he would WANT to keep you for himself, he recognises, that at least at the moment- it's not possible. You're surrounded by people who would recognise if you're missing, and wouldn't take it sitting down. He knows Amber isn't a threat, but if anything were to happen to you, Kaeya knows that just may change.

✦ So, for now, he just leans back and watches. He'll continue to be good old Kaeya, listening and waiting. He'll make sure to endear himself to you, keep you close. You're his friend, right? He may want more but you don't need to know that. Not now.

✦ Not until he can finally make a move.

VOICELINE: About [F/N]

"Oh, you're referring to the Traveller? Hm.. How would I describe her.. Spontaneous? Friendly? Reckless, even. I must say, I've never quite seen someone down as many shots as her in a while. Do give my regards if you've seen her about, a conversation is long overdue."

[alexawynters]

Mommy Knows Best - w.m x r blurb

Summary: Wanda convincing R to let her to all the thinking for her

Warnings: Ehhh... allusions to manipulation, kidnapping, stalking.

A/N: So ahhh... I wrote this in 15 minutes while at work in a part of the office I very much didn't want to be in. This isn't connected to anything. I don't intend on expanding this bc I have no spoons and the plot bunnies won't settle on anything definitively. But if anybody wants to take a crack at it, pleeeeaaase do! Just like.. link me so I can read it because I am thirsty. Also all of this was typed up on my phone so sorry for any typos, or formatting issues. I left my laptop at home today like a dumbass..

Wanda's hand cradled your face with a gentle yet possessive grip. "I knew that you needed me the moment I laid eyes on you in that coffee shop."

Your eyes widened at the older woman's confession. Out of all the times you had met up with Wanda, it had never been at a coffee shop. Her implication that she had been watching you sent a bolt of fear down your spine.

"Such a sweet little thing, so easily flustered." She appraised you with a keen eye, searching for any hint that you might try to run. "You were just trying to substitute the milk in your coffee order, yet you couldn't even do that without nearly breaking out into tears. Poor thing. You just needed your Mommy to do all your difficult thinking for you, huh?"

The older woman's voice had taken on an almost saccharine quality, while simultaneously dripping with condescension. You couldn't have explained it if you tried, but something about her tone, her words, turned your head all fuzzy.

Alarm bells that should have been clanging loudly were but a distant detail in your peripheral, not worthy of your attention when the alternative was listening to Wanda's honeyed voice. You should be concerned. A normal person would be leaving this crazy woman as fast as their legs could carry them. Yet instead, you practically meted into Wanda's touch, almost craving it.

The witch gave a subtle smirk at the way your eyes glossed over when she talked down to you. This was going to be even easier than Wanda had thought. She might not even need to use her magic if you were already this responsive to her. Frankly, Wanda was delighted.

"Use your words, kotenok. I know you're just a dumb baby, and words are hard, but when Mommy asks you a question, I expect an answer."

Her grip turned firm, border lining on painful. Glassy eyes snapped open.

"Y-yes, Mommy. I just needed you to do all the thinking for me."

Your face flushed bright red as you spoke the words, but you couldn't bring yourself to take them back. Now that they had been released into the universe, the words rang true for you. They simply felt... right. Your trusting gaze met Wanda's domineering one, seeking any sign of her approval.

The older woman gave a salacious grin, very much reminiscent of a cat who caught the canary. "There's my good girl," she cooed, caressing the apple of your cheek with her thumb.

Lulled into a false sense of safety and security, you tilted your head. Leaning into her touch, you were practically simpering from her praise and touch. Why had you ever been concerned, you wondered? This was Wanda. She would always take care of you. She would never even dream of harming you. If only you knew the extent of the very real danger you were in, you might have tried to run. Not that you would have gotten far, but Wanda might have enjoyed the thrill of the chase.

Nevertheless, she had you right where she wanted you and why make it unpleasant when you were so... willing? The witch reveled in how pliant you were. Like putty in her hands, ready to be shaped and molded into the perfect plaything for her.

"Now kotenok," she said softly. "Why don't you go get changed into something comfortable and we can watch movies? I took the liberty of bringing over some of your clothes from your apartment as you won't be staying there anymore."

The former Avenger patted your cheek gently, sending you off on your way. It was only a few feet you had made before hesitating, turning to look at the older woman.

"Mommy...." You tried the title, and it rolled off your tongue surprisingly easily. "Why. won't I be staying at my apartment anymore? I'm still paying rent on it for another seven months." Uncertainty rolled off of you in waves.

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, reigning her temper in. She needed to be understanding, but firm with you if she planned to get you completely under her thumb without scaring you off.

"You let Mommy worry about all of that. Those are big girl thoughts, and you wanted Mommy to do all the thinking for you, isn't that right?" Her voice was filled with exaggerated patience and condescension.

Part of you wanted to push the question. If you weren't going to be staying at your flat anymore then Wanda must mean for you to stay with her. Unfortunately, you couldn't afford rent in both places, so if you needed to sublet your flat, the sooner you knew for sure, the better. Not once did you question how, when, or why the redhead had picked up your clothes, being so focused about this rent situation.

Still, as you caught Wanda's steadily hardening gaze due to your lack of immediate cooperation, you could have sworn you almost saw a subtle flash of scarlet in her eyes. Opting not to upset the woman you were quickly falling for, you promptly turned on your heel, intent on doing as she had asked.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda Maximoff was observing your trailing form with a razor-sharp gaze. She felt triumphant, everything was going according to plan, and you were honestly making it too easy on her. Soon you would belong to her, and by the time you realized, it would be too late.

A/N 2: What are we thinking? Bin it? Try to write it from the beginning? Or maybe keep going and only have the beginning appear in flashback format? I know I need to update Scarlet Whispers and I'm gonna, I swear! Just... effort. lol