#manipulative behavior

[bl1ssfulelleon]

A suspiciously In-ho looking person, smirking in a flirtatious way: “Do I look like your boyfriend?”

Gi-hun, in a haze and drunk from drinking too much soju and misses Inho(or rather the Young-il version he knew): “No.. my.. my late partner.” He hiccups and continues, “I can’t believe it.. you could he his twin! Your face, your voice.. just your hair and clothes are different...” He feels like he’d sob any minute now.

Inho, grinning seeing how pathetic Gi-hun’s state is: “my name is…”

OR

A squid game au after s3 where Gi-hun he killed In-ho and the Vips(though miraculously, in-ho did not die), now feeling more empty as ever as theres nothing, no games, no friends, no family, no anything, no more Young-il, or In-ho. So he goes out to a bar and drink till he gets drunk like crazy and ofc, his lil obsessive ahh bf came to him(but in a new persona he carefully crafted so Gi-hun would be into him again).

BASE ON THAT SILENT HILL AUDIO!!!

[creature-wizard]

Heads up, if someone says "If you behave like this, no one will like you and everyone will leave" - that's manipulative behavior.

It would be fine and appropriate if they said, "if you behave like this, I will leave." That would be setting a boundary. They're allowed to do that.

But telling you that everyone will leave is manipulation, playing on your fears of being alone.

[yanderes-for-everyone]

Title: Betrayal of Dignity

Status: Ongoing

Synopsis:

Would you sacrifice your honor to marry a Duke?

In order to save her family from ruin, Chloe Verdier must find a groom for her sister, Alice. She soon runs into the handsome but arrogant Duke Thisse who makes a proposal that could save them. When Alice flees with a mysterious man, Chloe must seek out the Duke in the biggest gamble of her life. (manta)

My Thoughts:

I love puppy dog Yanderes. The ones that are sweet and simple, that are always at your beck and call. But there's just something about a manipulative bastard that really gets me going. And this man tops all the bastards I've seen so far. He's just so shameless. He's willing to do pretty much anything to get his way without regard to anyone else's feelings. I think that he probably immediately fell for the fl as soon as he saw her (though he would have never admitted that at the time), but he marries the fl in order to use her. As he get's to know her, his mild interest turns into obsession. He bulldozes his way into her heart through...you guessed it manipulation (she doesn't like him at first.) But don't worry he gets what's coming to him...fufufufu.

Anyway... he's definitely a manipulative type and I enjoyed him thoroughly, but I really love the fl. In my opinion she feels like a real person. She is so level-headed, smart, and loyal. She tries to keep and open heart and mind when engaging with other people.

But what really made this comic stick with me was the season 2 finale (I'll leave a huge spoiler in the comments if you're interested). It really sold me on the series and the fl.

And if you like smut the snu snu scenes are pretty good 🤭

Yandere Rating*: 8.5

Overall Rating: 8

*Meaning the yandere's intenseness

[loveyourlovelysoul]

Reading the kind of messages a guy sent a girl before abusing her and killing her, makes me realize how manipulative he was with her, playing with her kindness, guilt/codependent issues and lack of healthy boundaries. She wanted their story to be over while he couldn't accept it.

It also throws me back to a guy I met once and that showed slightly similar manipulative behaviours with me. I was lucky enough to become aware of that in time and get away, build up a wall and leave him by putting myself first and not letting him control me. It breaks me she couldn't, nor could ask for help or talk about this with others who could have helped the guy while keeping a distance from him.

Please if you find yourself in a toxic and potentially dangerous situation like this, where someone tries to make you think they may do something bad and only you can save them (or even they try to control your every move and/or have you say/behave in certain ways to make them feel good), talk with someone who can help you and ask for help for this person too by contacting their family/friends. Remember it's not you they need, but to feel the power that comes from the control they have on you and the attention you keep giving them as you feel responsible for them (in reality you're not!! You're only responsible for yourself, you cannot save them from their own demons but you have to save yourself). It could be anyone else. So save yourself first and foremost, and if you can try to save the next person (this habit has no gender anyway) too by talking about this with their closest ones or a school psychologist or anyone really.

Please take care of you.

[eternalpassions]

This is unhinged. I’ve seen this person harass yumes and other unhinged behavior and now she’s acting like the moral police. It’s just opinions. We don’t care. You’re unhinged acting as if it’s deeper than it is when you’re upset not everyone loves the author’s choices that benefit your ship. I’ve seen this person harass and start other unhinged behavior now she thinks she can scare people by saving the deleted post and the people who liked it

[traumatizedjaguar]

My father is an extremely misogynistic, racist and LGBTphobic person. He was always condoning for women and girls getting raped, murdered and tended to think of gays as some otherworldly gross unnatural creatures as that's how he treated them. He is so deeply insecure he sees everyone as beneath him like he always deserves special treatment for just being him, especially vulnerable groups of people he hates on, and he always would argue when he was proven wrong when he couldn't handle being wrong he's said before, "well idc if Im wrong because im still right" the embarrassment of how he looks to everyone else in the room but him. He also has the belief, stated in his own words that because he went through abuse growing up that he has a right to abuse others now. Verbatim he said, “idc I was bullied a lot growing up I have a right to bully others now.” He is a grossly childish man who decided to repeat his childhood abuse on others. He's stuck in his childhood abuse and by the time I was 15/16 I knew what my issues were, was very honest with myself and knew to work on generational trauma. I was older than a 50 year old man by the time I was 15/16.

[chackyxyooj]

Subject to Change

Ein | MS, Angst

→ “Maybe we should love like kids.” - Love Like Kids, GRAHAM.

╭──────────.★..─╮

Pairing: MS!Ein X Reader

WC: 1.2k

TW: Possessive & Manipulative behaviour from Ein (but what else is new?)

This pick is brought to you via a random wheel spinner.

Event Masterlist

╰─..★.──────────╯

Ragged breaths and heavy footsteps bounce off the walls as Ein drags himself to the front door of his apartment. There isn’t much that the boy enjoys these days, and returning home wasn’t one of them. His entire body weighs him down as he leans against the door frame. His hands dig through his pockets to find his keys long enough that when he finally finds them, he doesn’t have enough patience to want to unlock the door himself.

Quietly muttering to himself, Ein shoves his key into the door and wriggles it around until it finally swings open. The boy doesn’t waste any time shoving his way into the apartment, nor does he care about the placement of his jacket or boots as he shakes them off and pushes forward through the foyer.

“You’re back?” Your voice rings in Ein’s ears. It’s irritating if you ask him. The pitch of your voice. The smell of your body. Everything about you serves as a reminder that you’re different.

You’re not a werewolf, you’re not even close to what Ein would consider more than a means to an end, but you’re better than nothing. Sometimes, when the boy closes his eyes and buries his face in his pillow, he can almost imagine that you’re someone else - someone who’s not a bumbling pushover that worries all the time.

As he makes his way toward the Kitchen, Ein barely looks up when you place yourself in his path. “Move.” He mutters, but you don’t comply. On instinct the boy tries to step around you but you grab onto his shoulder. It’s not as though the boy cannot push past you, but the sudden contact causes him to freeze in place.

“Ein.” Your voice is a little more coarse than usual. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just grabbing a snack. No need to get your panties in a twist.” He mutters in reply. The boy doesn’t wait long enough to let you reply. He pushes past you in an attempt to get to the kitchen as seamlessly as possible. He’s just glad your footsteps don’t immediately chase after him.

Ein doesn’t care to know what you decided to do. All he cares about is how you’re gone long enough for him to grab a granola bar and shovel it down. He can almost feel his irritation subsiding, but that’s only until you appear at his side once again.

You stand just out of arm’s reach from the boy, leaning against the fridge with your arms crossed. “It’s been a week.”

“What, did I come home too early? Did you want me to stay at work for a month before coming back?” Ein grabs a cup from the dishrack and fills it with water. “Or maybe you couldn’t wait for me to return. Is that it?”

You groan to yourself and mutter a quiet curse.

The sound is like music to Ein’s ears.

The boy can feel his ear twitch before his hand is suddenly wrapped around your wrist. For the first time since arriving, Ein finally looks up at your face. Though he expects to see the feisty or entertained expression you usually wear, you don’t. Rather, your eyes are puffy and your lips curl in a horribly practiced smile.

He isn’t sure why but his stomach drops. The look on your face has never made him feel this way before, not that he’s seen this look before, but it’s weird. For some reason Ein has an insatiable urge to reach out and touch your face.

“What the hell happened to you?” The boy utters. If he wasn’t confused before then the half hearted laugh you gave was the nail in the coffin.

“What happened to me?” You huff in exasperation. “What happened to you? You’ve changed. And I don’t mean that you changed since the last time I saw you. I feel like the two of us… is there even a reason why you agreed to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” The question slips from Ein involuntarily. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Back when I asked you to go steady with me, you didn’t seem… committed. That’s not to say that I think you’d cheat on me, but I can’t shake the feeling that you don’t value this relationship the same way I do.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You open your mouth to say more but stop yourself.

Ein thinks you might burst into tears any moment now. He isn’t really in the mood to comfort you, he’s never been in a mood to comfort anyone for that matter, but today his feet stay firmly rooted in place. Even when he attempts to get his gaze to wander, his attention is always drawn right back to you.

Finally, you sigh. “I missed you, Ein. I missed you so much that most nights I couldn’t sleep.”

“I…” Ein feels his jaw tighten. “I missed you too.”

“Don’t lie to me.” You snap back. “You never bothered to text me while you were gone. You didn’t even let me hug you when you came home. So yeah, you never said that you didn’t value our relationship, but you sure showed how much you cared.”

Ein scoffs. “Like you really care about me so much?”

And there it was. One of the many things Ein could say to make you cry. A heavy feeling pools in the bottom of the werewolf’s stomach but he doesn’t look away. He can’t. There’s something so captivating about the way you cry.

It’s not as though Ein enjoys watching you cry, he’s not completely heartless, but the boy can never seem to pull himself away from you whenever you were in tears. You’re always so small. So fragile. It makes him want to hide you away from prying eyes. To call you his and his alone. And sometimes, even though he’d never admit it to himself, Ein wants to hold you.

The boy can feel his hand twitch against your wrist.

At first Ein holds his breath. It feels like every instinct in his body is telling him to push you away, but he doesn’t. He fights that urge as desperately as he can. He isn’t sure why he does this, he isn’t even sure why he’s kept you around for this long, but before the boy realises what he’s done, he’s wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest.

Ein can feel your tears soaking into his shirt. Though it’s uncomfortable he can’t find it in himself to push you away. He listens to the sound of your quietly quaking breaths, takes a breath of your subtle but sweet scent, and relents.

“I love you.”

Ein isn’t sure if he means it, but it feels right. He feels like that’s what he’s supposed to say. He just… it’s been so long since he’s craved something the way he craved you. Your touch, your voice, even your damned passive nature. Ein didn’t want to let things get to this point but it’s obvious that he has, in fact, reached the point of no return.

He needs you. He craves your affection. He won’t let you go. There’s no way he’d let you go!

He loves you too much to let you love someone else.

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

I have this weird fucking cobra husbands au

Where in the past in nam their relationship is just like a more fucked up version of silverusso and Johnny and kreese Like where John first victim student was terry and John is trying mold terry in this version of him and break that little twig

and terry so blinded by his devotion and he doesn’t realize anything and he calls terry good solider and his twig and Lieutenant and uses terry need to get away from his father constant trying tell him what to do and how to live his life

and it dark and fucked up and John is just having the time of his life being manipulative and during that tattoo parlor scene in this Au John might have got a bit rough because why would terry leave he definitely use some ways to break terry down, pull ranks, he give terry the thought that he has a choice to pick the company over the dojo, get a little touchy maybe the neck grab is not so gentle this time

and he obviously doesn’t believe he doing anything wrong because he saved terry so many times so it only fair he gain a loyal solider in return it not his fault terry worship the ground he walks on

and in kk3 John is just relaxing in Tahiti letting his Lieutenant get revenge for him and maybe he did leave terry right after it “teach him a lesson” about fucking up and failing make terry all breaking and desperate when he comes back he probably kept tabs on him to just to fuck with him more when he does come back

and getting ready to manipulate terry and get him back to that twig mindset because Terry is thinking a lot for himself and that is not a good thing for John

@deviousdevilx you gave me inspiration for this au

@isindismay this au is so weird and fucked up and toxic 😭

[sonderden]

Me: My ex-bff wasn't that bad. I know my therapist has said it counts as abuse, but we met when we were 11. She didn't know what she was doing. There was no malicious intent. She was a largely neglected kid with a messed up sense of boundaries, it just sucked that I was both really compatible and really incompatible with that. She even got a little better over the 13 years we knew each other, she wasn't a bad person. She saw the world differently than I do, that's all.

Me, talking about what it was like to use Tumblr in middle school: It was fun, but I had some restrictions. I couldn't follow things -- tags, people, etc -- that my best friend didn't like. I couldn't join fandoms she had claimed; if she liked it first, or liked it "more" than me then it was hers and I'd mess it up by liking it. I had to join fandoms she'd decided I would like, or we'd like together, even if they weren't fun for me. I wasn't allowed to be online at night without telling her, because if she caught me she'd say that was time I could have spent chatting with her if I wasn't going to sleep. She'd feel betrayed. If I made an original post, she'd immediately comment on it as a way of "claiming" me as her best friend and warning others that the position of best friend was taken. Also to interact with me and be my friend, but mostly to keep me focused on her. She did not comment on or like any of my writing, though. She never read it. She said it was boring, then demanded I read everything she ever wrote and quizzed me at school about whether I'd seen her posts or emails about her writing yet. So Tumblr had a bit of a shadow looming over it, but I still liked the fandoms and memes!

The Memory of My Therapist (she's not dead, I just haven't seen her in 2 weeks): You know it doesn't have to have malicious intent to have harmful results, right? You know that whether she knew what she was doing or not, she still did messed up things you didn't deserve?

Me: Well, when I lay it out like that it does sound kind of bad, yeah... 😬

[creature-wizard]

I was reading that one conspiracy theorist who claimed to be part of NWO (I don't know how to spell her name but the S one) and her website on programming and the Illuminati. It has a section on callback/loyalty programming and it mentions "cues" (i.e stuff to activate a program). It's literally fucking manipulative behavior. Like the examples of cues she says is basically, "why won't you call your parents", "your parents miss you", etc.

Yeah! As you go looking through the literature claiming alter programming is a real thing, you'll find all kinds of perfectly mundane (if genuinely crappy) stuff framed as having something to do with it. It's so extensive that any determined person could find "evidence" that just about anyone is a victim of alter programming, whether or not that person even shows actual symptoms of DID.

This is also one way we know the whole thing is just a modern witch hunt - the diagnostic criteria is so broad that it can apply to nearly anyone, and once somebody (like a therapist) has decided that your behavior must be caused by programmed DID, there's basically no way to disprove it. (In fact, denying that you were programmed is supposed to be more evidence that you were programmed!)

For anyone who isn't aware: Programmed DID is a far right conspiracy theory that preys on vulnerable people in need of real help. For more information on its origins and how we know DID programming isn't real, see Cathy O'Brien - The First Project Monarch "Survivor" and Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler: Two Of The Most Dangerous Conspiracy Theorists Most People Have Never Heard Of.

[heartlogicus]

🚨 Are You in a Toxic Relationship? 🚨 Narcissists can be charming, manipulative, and emotionally draining—but how do you know if you're in a relationship with one? Understanding Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) can help you recognize the red flags, break free from the cycle of emotional abuse, and protect your peace. In my latest blog post, we’re diving into: 💡 The traits & warning signs of narcissistic partners 💔 How narcissists manipulate through love bombing, gaslighting & silent treatment 🛑 Ways to set boundaries, cope, & disengage from toxic relationships Steps to heal & regain your self-worth after narcissistic abuse You don’t have to stay stuck in the cycle. Your emotional well-being matters! ❤️ 💬 Share your thoughts in the comments—Have you ever encountered a narcissist? How did you handle it? #MentalHealthAwareness #ToxicRelationships #NarcissisticAbuse #EmotionalHealing

[eliangeldolly]

Tumblr my beloved

[shadowsofcontrol]

Double standards are a hallmark of abusers. They do what they want while criticizing you for the same behaviors 🚩

[bluepurpleviolatte]

more thoughts on manipulative indirect communication tricks:

If someone wants your help but expects you to offer it first, or if they want to contact you but expect you to initiate, it’s just playing unnecessary, childish games. This kind of behavior is immature and wastes time. People should be straightforward about their needs and intentions instead of engaging in these silly tactics.

If you want to talk to someone—especially a boy to a girl, though not exclusively—just speak to them directly! Don’t use tricks to make them start the conversation first; that’s not cool. I’ve seen boys call a girl and let it ring just once, hoping she’ll call him back. Seriously? And then there are the boys who want to make contact with a girl nearby but are too afraid of rejection, so they start making noises with their phones to get her attention. This kind of behavior just makes you seem sneaky, cowardly, childish, and even manipulative. It reflects insecurity and a lack of confidence.

--

Instead of approaching the person with honesty and directness, these "tricks" only create awkwardness and show immaturity. Direct communication is not only more respectful, but it also shows that you value the other person's time and your own integrity.

[artemis-melody]

from 📌

[noirscript]

Lavender and Powder

Pairing: Yandere!Farmer x City Girl!Reader Description: Isaiah, a farmer with a quiet intensity, becomes an unsettling presence in your life after a chance encounter. What starts as neighborly kindness spirals into a chilling tale of control and obsession, leaving you trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming. Warning/s: Yandere | Psychological Manipulation | Obsession | Emotional Coercion | Stalking | Non-consensual Confinement | Forced Domesticity | Dubious Consent | Threats | Intimidation | Mild Physical Violence | Implied Babytrapping Note: I tried to make the reader bratty in the drafts but it doesn't feel right T^T I don't know if the anon who requested this is still lurking here or not, but enjoy! Also, join the taglist by clicking this link! (My interview ended few minutes ago. My brain is toasted af. T^T)

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast 50% off

You’d only been in town for five days, and already you were part of the scenery at Gracie’s Diner.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work. You didn’t mind the grease that clung to your skin, the clatter of dishes, or the sting in your legs after double shifts. What mattered was that you were earning your keep—paying your bills, fixing up the wreck of a farmhouse your mother left behind, and doing it all without help.

You weren’t here to be rescued.

“You sure you’re not overworking yourself, sweetheart?” Gracie asked as you refilled the sugar jars. She was a woman who wore her sarcasm and worry with the same ease as her eyeliner.

“I’m fine,” you said with a smile, rolling your sleeves up higher. “Gotta pay for a new water heater somehow. Thing practically screamed when I tried to shower this morning.”

“Thought your neighbor offered to help with all that?”

You stiffened.

You remembered him well. Isaiah. The farmer with shoulders like barn doors and calloused hands that looked like they could crush rock. He came to welcome you on your first day with a crate of eggs and a bashful smile. In return, you gave him a plate of spaghetti you made that night, more out of politeness than interest.

You hadn't realized the way his eyes lingered as you handed him that plate.

That in his mind, that gesture sealed a bond deeper than you’d ever intended.

“I told him I had it under control,” you said simply.

Gracie gave you a look. “I know you city girls are all about that independence. Just be careful. Some men ‘round here get ideas.”

You laughed softly. “I can take care of myself.”

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

Your shifts were long. The tips were modest. And the farmhouse was stubborn in its disrepair. But you were managing.

Until your truck died.

You were halfway down the lonely road toward your house after closing the diner when the engine sputtered and gave out. No signal. No cars. Nothing but the humming of bugs and the distant rustle of trees.

You grabbed your backpack and kicked the tire, muttering curses.

Then headlights pierced the dark.

Isaiah pulled up beside you, leaned out the window with a smile that looked just a bit too pleased.

“Well, now. Looks like you need a hand.”

You blinked. “Yeah… my truck just—stopped. No warning. Can I get a lift home?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Was just headin’ back from drinks with the boys.”

You got in.

The silence stretched as you talked. You were tired, but adrenaline kept you going. You talked about the renovations, your job at the diner, your plans to eventually turn the farmhouse into something self-sustaining. You didn’t notice the silence behind the wheel. Not really.

“I just think women shouldn’t have to rely on anyone,” you said, stretching. “It’s freeing, you know? To build something yourself.”

His hands clenched the steering wheel.

You didn't notice.

But he did.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

Three days later, the farmhouse was broken into.

You came home after your shift and found everything ransacked. Nothing stolen—just destruction. Dishes shattered. Curtains torn. Couch cushions ripped open like animals had clawed them apart. Your knees gave out. You screamed.

Isaiah arrived before the sheriff.

“Jesus,” he said, crouching beside you. “You alright? You’re shaking.”

“I—yeah—I think—” You gasped. “They didn’t take anything. Just trashed it.”

“No way you’re sleeping here tonight,” he said. “Door’s broken. You’re vulnerable.”

“I’ll go to a motel—”

“They’re all booked for the rodeo this week,” he interrupted gently. “Look, I’ve got a guest room. Just for a night or two.”

You didn’t want to. But your nerves were shot, and there was nowhere else to go.

“Just a night,” you agreed, voice hollow.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

Isaiah’s house was too perfect.

Pristine. Polished floors. Dishes stacked in neat rows. A faint floral scent lingered—lavender, maybe.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. Towels are clean. I’ll get the bed ready,” he said, walking away with your overnight bag like it already belonged there.

You spotted a mug on the counter with your name on it. Painted in soft pastel blue.

“You… had this?”

He smiled. “Felt right. Made it when I heard you took the old place.”

You tried to joke. “That’s… thoughtful.”

He smiled wider.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

You tried to offer him money the next morning, after breakfast. Scrambled eggs. Homemade biscuits. Too good.

“Don’t insult me,” he said quietly. “Just help out around the house, alright? You’re already doing so much.”

So you did. You swept. Cleaned. Cooked dinner once or twice. Anything to repay him for the roof over your head while you called contractors and scraped together the funds for repairs.

But the contractors never called back.

Your calls went unanswered.

The mechanic said your truck was totaled.

You didn’t realize someone else had made sure of that.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

It was a week later when you heard Isaiah on the phone.

The kettle had just started to scream when his voice reached you from down the hall, muffled but distinct. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—not really—but something in his tone made your body freeze.

“…No, she hasn’t figured it out yet. Sweet thing still thinks this is charity.”

A low chuckle.

“I’ve been teaching her… slowly. She’s adjusting.”

A pause. His voice dropped lower.

“Not yet. But soon.”

You stood there for a second too long. Long enough for the kettle to whistle sharply, loud enough to cover the sound of the ceramic mug slipping from your hands and smashing against the floor.

The tea scalded your bare feet. You barely felt it.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his voice stopped mid-sentence. The sudden silence on his end was deafening.

You moved.

Bolted.

You didn’t think—just acted. Your legs carried you on instinct, slipping on the wet floor, catching yourself against the wall, fingers fumbling for balance. The hallway felt longer than usual. Your vision tunneled, the walls squeezing closer with every second.

You reached the back door.

Unlatched.

Unlocked.

Hope surged in your chest so violently it made you gasp.

You wrenched it open.

Cool air hit your face, the smell of soil and pine and freedom burning in your lungs. You were halfway out—one foot in the grass, fingers scraping the edge of the doorway—

And then a hand, large and brutal, slammed the door shut.

With you halfway through it.

You screamed.

The edge of the frame cracked against your ribs as Isaiah yanked you backward, one arm wrapping tight across your waist, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. You kicked, flailed, clawed at his skin, but he held you firm—an immovable wall of muscle and determination.

“I knew you’d run,” he muttered, breath hot against your ear. His voice had lost the syrupy sweetness he wore like a mask. Now it was raw, cracked, and furious. “Ungrateful little thing.”

He turned, carrying you effortlessly despite your thrashing.

“I’ve done everything for you. Gave you safety. Gave you warmth. A home.”

He slammed the door behind you both with his boot, the echo like a gunshot.

You fought harder.

“I was gonna ease you into it,” he snarled, dragging you past the kitchen. “Let you feel like you chose this. But you just had to snoop, didn’t you?”

He didn’t take you to the guest room.

He took you down the hall, past the door you’d never seen open. The one that was always locked.

He kicked it in.

And there it was.

The cradle. A handmade wooden crib, nestled in the center of a room painted in soft yellows and sage green. The mobile above it spun slowly, creaking on its hinges, casting distorted shadows across the walls.

Everything smelled like baby powder and lavender and something far too clean.

Your stomach turned.

“No—no, let me go—!”

“You’re mine,” Isaiah hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. He twisted the lock before pressing you against it, pinning you there with the full weight of his body. “You fed me that day. You smiled. You looked at me like I mattered. What the hell did you think that meant, huh?”

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “It was just dinner—it didn’t mean anything—”

“It meant everything,” he growled, gripping your chin so hard it ached. “It was a promise. A bond. You gave yourself to me when you fed me. You just didn’t know it yet.”

You whimpered as his hand dropped to your hip, then your wrist, guiding you toward the crib with terrifying tenderness.

“You’ll see. You don’t need that diner. You don’t need money or dreams or whatever garbage you believe in. You need me. You need this.”

He pressed your palm flat against the cradle’s wooden edge.

“You need to understand your place, wife.”

You sobbed, body trembling, but there was no more strength left to fight.

His voice dipped lower, reverent and sickeningly soft.

“…And maybe it’s time you give me what I’ve waited for.”

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @fandangoballs @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger