#kidnapped reader

[glxssynarvi]

The concept of neglected batsib being cuddly with anyone BUT the batfam is so funny to me. The batfam thinks they're touch averse or something but no. Batsib is perfectly fine hugging, holding hands with, or bumping hips with their friends. Batsib will even cuddle/nap with their friends! Just not Batfam. Lol.

[cluelessatthispoint]

Dragon's Horde part 14

(inspired by bluegiragi and docdudo)

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The tall trees seemed to go on for miles and miles. The bitter cold of the wind left stinging prickles along your tender flesh. Vast expanses of trees loomed overhead miles in every direction. North, trees. South, trees, East, trees. West, trees. stabs of electricity run up and down your shins with each step you take. Looking back, there is no sign of the cave in sight, not even the mountains which the hybrid's cave is. Theres nothing. oddly enough, it feels right. It's hard to tell how much time has passed; the sun went down ages ago. The woods bathed in darkness under the cover of night and the light of the moon.

'Should've paid more attention to the travelers back in town.' Spitting at the very notion of them. They never helped you, not even once. But the stories they would tell in exchange for coin has proven helpful more than once. Which mushrooms to avoid for one, how to make a simple snare, too bad one of the traveling men shooed you away when he was telling how to pinpoint direction by light of the moon. with the past in the past, there was no use in ruminating over what could have been. especially now more so than ever with the way the wind picked up in baleful gusts. It was as if even the very forces of nature were against you and your plight. Moisture gathers, sticking to your eyelashes. Making the act of opening your wind swollen lids ache with a strange sort of burn. Wiping your running nose on your forearm, the feeling of mucus drying on your cold and clammy skin sends a curl of disgust to your face. A small grimace that only grows bigger over the span of seconds as the wind dies. The sudden change leaves you near breathless as shivers wrack your being.

"Well now, aint you a small'un."

Jolting at the sudden voice. your eyes widen as large as dinnerplates. Looking to your right, then to your left. Swirling around until you can find the source of the voice.

"H-hello?" it's almost pathetic how small you sound. How you barely sound intelligible.

"Cold? Well, can't have that now can we." Automatically it's as if the shadows of the forest curl in around at your ankles. Before you can jump away out of instinct, a heavy arm drapes itself around your shoulders at the same moment a solid body presses itself at your side.

"Dragon, Harpy, Werewolf and even a wraith. My, my, you are a strange creature indeed."

Turning, the arm around your shoulders doesn't move to stop you. Even in your state, you could feel how if he wanted to, he could do so much worse than hold you still. Looking up, it's strange how the moonlight makes this stranger's form pop into being. Scowling, you bring you gaze to a face so pale that it rivals the moon in all its glowing splendor. Pale blue eyes flash red for only a moment; you could swear that it was as red as blood.

"w-what? who-"

"ah ah, not important. however, what is important. Is why a small little thing like you, is out alone at night. It's quite late, and dark. Are you scared of the dark?"

"No!" the feeling of indignation wells in your chest. You're certainly not a small child anymore. Not a baby. Even being treated similarly to one for these past months couldn't dampen the rage at being asked something so demeaning. recoiling, you stamp your foot on the ground to solidify some sort of boundary.

"Who are you." The man doesn't flinch at your tone, nor at the fire in your eyes when you settle him with a steely stare. 'He's blonde' you notice. The more you look at him the more it seems like the shadows that were clinging to you earlier dissipate.

"Just a friend, a friend who is worried about a child wandering around my woods at night."

"Your woods?" You blurt out. Embarrassment follows swiftly as the man cocks his head at you. Amusement or something of the like graces his lips.

"That's right, my woods. And you're trespassing."

Crossing your arms over your chest for warmth, the wind makes it moment to pick up again. Being labeled as a trespasser stings, but the woods have no one owner.

"No I'm not, these woods-"

"-Are no place for a child, and a barefooted one at that. Cold?"

The scowl on your face only grows deeper as you start to shiver again. The evidence of your disposition is clear on your face and the cold clear remnants of snot on your arms as well as your body language. Nodding silently, the stranger's face doesn't even change when you admit to what he can see as clear as day. Without wasting a beat, the man smiles. Not condescendingly, but softly. A smile that looks unnatural on his fine features. He almost looks handsome you think, almost.

"I'm-m cold...yeah." Whispering, it's a miracle he can hear your voice through the call of the wind.

"How about this, I take you to my campsite and get you warmed up. Food's almost ready." You find yourself nodding along in agreement. 'But if there was a campsite nearby, wouldn't you have seen the glow of a fire nearby, or the smell of smoke?' Your brain fizzles out a last-ditch rational thought as you slip your hand into his larger, outstretched palm.

"How..why did you say..dragon? and all that stuff?" You find yourself asking as you allow the man to lead you in an entirely different direction than you were walking before. His shoulders sag as he heaves out a sigh. Almost sound over-exaggerated, his tired sigh gives way to a stifled laugh. The type that has you wondering if you said the wrong thing or if he finally cracked his gourd by travelling in the dark for so long.

"I've got a good sense of smell. It's rare, mighty rare to meet the child of all four creatures as those. But you're just a lil human. Same as me." The way he tightens his grip on your hand leaves you with a bitter taste, his accent slipping out catches your attention more than anything else. As if sensing your confusion, he shoots you another small smile. A glint of white from behind his pink lips draws your eyes to his mouth. Gently, he shakes your hand. Your focus momentarily shifted from teeth to hand to the darkness surrounding you both. Squinting, just up ahead you can see the small glimmer of a campfire.

"Is that your camp?"

"Sure is. And now it's yours to."

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WOOOO its a spooky vampire and reader doesn't know it yet~ oooh~ spooky.

[emotionalmessss]

hope you’re well ♥️ may i request a headcanon where yan!chrollo’s partner escaped but when he confronts them (or however you write it-it’s up to you!) they are really remorseful like “i knew i shouldn’t have left” on their own volition? thank you! ♥️

Note: ouu, I really like this. I can never say no to Chrollo content. Thank you for the request, enjoy! :) Also, this ended up being much longer than I originally intended lol.

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, stalking, forced captivity, brief mentions of dub/non-con, hardcore manipulation would it really be chrollo without manipulation?

Chrollo is no saint, but he definitely has the patience of one–though only to a certain extent. With you, however, he seems to have all the fucking patience in the world. Because of Chrollo’s emotionally complex nature, I kind of feel like it’s difficult for him to form emotional attachments, especially with those outside the Troupe. Connections have never really been a priority for Chrollo, nor do they come easily to him. But, with you, it’s different. You’ve always stood out, and his relationship with you is something that he treasures deeply. In his own twisted way.

Ever since Chrollo first laid eyes on you, he’s been utterly fascinated–a reaction that probably confused him at first, considering his interests usually only involve the wellbeing of the Troupe, books, and stealing valuable objects and Nen abilities. Chrollo has utilized all his available resources to gather as much information about you as possible, spending countless hours studying every single aspect of your life. Say goodbye to your privacy because there’s no such thing when it comes to Chrollo. And sure, a few members of the Troupe probably found Chrollo’s behavior unusual, but they knew better than to question the boss.

Chrollo might be completely infatuated with you, but he’s not blind to how difficult the situation is for you–he is well aware of human nature, and even more familiar with you. In fact, he completely understands your struggles. But, does that mean he’s going to let you go? Fuck no. As far as captors go, Chrollo has been incredibly lenient with you, hoping that you’d eventually realize that there is no one else in the world that could cherish you the way he does. And when you escaped from him, you betrayed that sliver of trust he gave you.

Your escape was successful, congrats. Managing to slip past Chrollo’s defenses was a challenge in itself–and you should be proud–not everyone can outsmart the head of the Spider. But, that’s just the beginning, don’t celebrate just yet. Surely, you’ll have to deal with a fuck load of complications, like starting your life over from scratch, fending for yourself, constantly watching your back, and maybe, just maybe, going as far as adopting a completely new identity. Things couldn’t get any more complicated, could they? Oh, they can and they will. 

It wouldn’t be long before you started to doubt and question everything–your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your choices, and most importantly, Chrollo. You might’ve thought you had the upper hand, but somehow, for some fucking reason, Chrollo always has the last laugh. Chrollo would never allow himself to show it, but he would definitely feel slightly irritated with the situation and your behavior. You actually had the audacity to run away from him? Have you forgotten who he is and what he's capable of? It’s not very often that someone would defy him, and part of him secretly applauds your pathetic–yet somewhat amusing–actions. Did you truly believe that he wouldn’t be able to find you again? 

I’d imagine that Chrollo probably saw your sudden absence as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Annoying? Yes. Unexpected? No. Would he have expected you to be remorseful after escaping? Not entirely. Fortunately for him–and unfortunately for you–Chrollo knows you very fucking well. So well, in fact, that he’s become really good at predicting not only your next moves, but also what goes on in your head. He knew it wouldn’t take long for your mind to overwhelm you–that fresh start of yours isn’t feeling all that fresh anymore, is it? 

Chrollo wouldn’t go find you right away, no, he’d let you struggle for a bit before he made a move. The Troupe would probably question their boss’ somewhat unusual approach to the situation, but they wouldn’t push their luck–they knew better than to risk overstepping any boundaries, especially when it involves you and Chrollo. Just because his love for you is fucked up unconventional doesn’t mean he’s going to act impulsively to get you back, that's not how Chrollo operates, his methods are much more refined and efficient than that. 

But, that doesn’t mean Chrollo won’t be thinking of you. You’re always on his mind. He’d deny it, but the mental image of you–somewhere far away and stressed out, trying to move on with your life–was oddly satisfying. Some might say that’s cruel, but Chrollo sees it as conditioning. And Chrollo is a master manipulator. He may appear relatively passive on the outside, but you should never underestimate him. I feel like nothing is off-limits with Chrollo, and he’ll do anything and everything to make it impossible for you to leave him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. So, it's really not much of a surprise that you’re remorseful about running away. That’s exactly what he planned. 

From the very beginning, Chrollo has been subtly manipulating and conditioning you, instilling doubt and dependency within you. He’d isolate you from the outside world and from the other people in your life, both physically and emotionally. He kept you by his side, never allowing you to stray too far. Even when you thought you were alone, he was watching. He gave you the illusion of freedom–a door that was occasionally left unlocked, access to his entire apartment, the opportunity to go outside, but only with him. He’d make you question the relationships you had with everyone that wasn’t him, slowly turning you against them. Do they actually care about you? Do they actually understand you like he does? Those were his ways of making sure there was nobody else you can interact with, forcing you to become dependent on him for everything.

Chrollo wouldn’t stop there. There were times when he would let his guard down, allowing you to see moments of vulnerability. He would tell you things–his past, his thoughts–enough to make you believe there was more to him than the monster you feared. When you eventually opened up to him about your own thoughts, he’d listen. He always listened so fucking carefully. He made you feel like he understood you better than anyone else ever had, or ever could.

And it all paid off in the end. For him, at least.

It’s almost been two months without Chrollo and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. In fact, your newfound freedom feels fucking horrible. It doesn’t make sense–you should be thrilled that you’ve managed to escape after being held captive for one year. You had planned this escape for months, spending countless nights going over it again and again in your head until it was foolproof. It worked, yet you were far from satisfied.

Feeling more than a little conflicted about your state of mind, you move to sit on the couch in your living room. The old, faded piece of furniture creaks beneath your weight as you settle into the cushions. It felt cold and unfamiliar. The couch was probably older than you–faded, torn, and pilling–unlike the expensive plush one that Chrollo has. That one felt warm and familiar. Anxiously, you stir your half drank cup of coffee and take a sip, grimacing slightly. Even his fucking coffee was better than yours. 

This new life was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, it was a constant reminder of everything you left behind. It seems that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get Chrollo out of your mind. Every little sound–footsteps, doors opening–sent you into fight or flight mode, always on edge. It felt like you were living with a shadow that was slowly closing in, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to run away from it. Fear, longing, and resentment were just a few of the emotions you’ve learned to cope with, but it never got any easier. 

Part of you missed the late night, deep conversations, the way he listened intently, as if your words were the most important thing in the world. Now, your nights are restless, haunted by constant nightmares involving a certain raven haired man. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome? There’s no way to be sure–therapy costs money, and you aren’t exactly rolling in it. Your hands tremble as you place the mug down, spilling the dark liquid all over the side table. Still trapped in your mind, you get up from the shitty couch and head towards the kitchen, moving to grab a rag to clean up the equally shitty coffee. 

A small creak from behind catches your attention, making you pause momentarily to glance over your shoulder. Like countless other times, there's nothing there. Maybe you don’t even need a psych to diagnose you, since you’re already going insane. Sighing, you grab the rag and start walking back toward the living room. 

“A bit late for coffee, is it not?” The smooth sounding voice instantly makes you freeze in place, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a rush of emotions. There’s a certain lightness in his tone that’s not usually present–it’s almost like he’s teasing yet chiding you. Either way, you weren’t going to concern yourself with the semantics.

It feels like your body has been completely paralyzed. Yet, somehow, you manage to summon the courage to slowly turn your gaze towards the source of the voice, finding it at the front entrance of your apartment. What you see is enough to make you feel faint, your head spinning and your stomach dropping like a stone–it’s Chrollo, looming in the doorway, his large eyes focused solely on you as a soft, enigmatic smile plays on his lips. Unconsciously, a whimper escapes your lips and your mind suddenly kicks into overdrive, frantically attempting to process the overwhelming reality of what’s happening. All those conflicting thoughts from moments ago flood back into your mind.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the relief of finally seeing him again and the chilling fear of what this unexpected encounter might bring. You had started a new life here, a life that was simpler, quieter, more peaceful. But as you stand there, facing Chrollo and the flood of memories he brings, you can't help but question–was it truly peace? You must’ve only been standing there–stuck in your thoughts–for a few minutes, but Chrollo seems to notice your dazed state and decides to speak up again, effectively snapping you back to reality. 

“May I come in? We have so much to discuss.” Chrollo says, his voice as gentle and as reassuring as you remember. Without waiting for your response, he's already stepping across the threshold and moving into your apartment, making his way toward the living room. His approach is calm and measured. It’s almost as if he’s been in your apartment a thousand times before, and as if he has all the time in the world. Rooted to the spot, your hand trembles as you clutch the damp rag, watching as Chrollo takes your previously occupied seat on the couch.

“Chrollo?” You find yourself whispering, your voice barely more than a shaky exhale, hesitant and filled with uncertainty. Saying his name after the silence of these past months feels strange, foreign, but oddly enough, you find yourself not hating it. Chrollo doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he sinks deeper into the couch, leaning back casually and letting his hands rest on top of his thighs. The silence stretches on, lingering too long, and a part of you believes he’s doing it on purpose. 

“You seem troubled,” Chrollo observes, his dark eyes softening a fraction. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” He insists softly, tilting his head toward the empty spot next to him on the couch, a silent command for you to join him. Despite his calm demeanor, it’s quite clear that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He won’t deny it–your little escape was mildly infuriating. But he wasn’t entirely without compassion–at least, that’s what he liked to believe.

Your chest tightens painfully at his words, each breath feeling like a struggle, as if your lungs are refusing to expand. Your vision blurs as tears gather, threatening to spill over at any moment. You’ve reached your breaking point–the emotions you’ve been painstakingly avoiding have finally surfaced. The ache of remorse gnaws at you, a torrent of regret and guilt that you've been desperately trying to suppress. You open your mouth to respond–to say something, anything at all–but find yourself choking pitifully on a sob, no words coming out. 

The tears start to fall, pouring down your cheeks as you stumble blindly toward the couch, dropping the rag on the ground and barely registering the resigned sigh that Chrollo lets out. You plop down onto the couch next to Chrollo, feeling utterly pathetic about your current state. Not even a second later, Chrollo’s arm slips behind your back and wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body toward his. You don’t fight it, instead allowing your face to bury into the comforting warmth of his chest, while his hand gently cradles the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, your voice cracking as you sob into his chest. 

Chrollo’s quiet again, the silence only broken by your sniffles and unsteady breaths. His fingers thread soothingly through your hair, softly shushing you. “You’re okay, I’m right here,” he reassures, his voice stripped of its usual firmness, now softer, gentler, almost tender. His expression remains unreadable as he looks down at you, his eyes revealing nothing of thoughts that are undoubtedly coursing through his mind right now. Internally, however, he feels a tinge of satisfaction upon hearing your apologetic pleas. Maybe things can go back to the way they were, or maybe they'll morph into something new, something better. 

There’s another pause, a moment where he lets you compose yourself. He doesn't mention your escape, or the remorse you've shown–not just yet. In truth, Chrollo is not the least bit surprised by your emotional spiral. He knows you well enough to understand that this is not merely a reaction to his relentless pursuit and eventual discovery of your whereabouts. No, this is an entirely different kind of response, one born out of internal conflict.

If it were any other man in this position, they might have felt guilty for putting you through so much torment. But Chrollo is not ‘any other man.’ Far from it. As he watches you break down in his arms, he doesn’t feel any guilt. He doesn’t see your suffering as something he should apologize for. Why would he? For Chrollo, he sees this as a necessary consequence of the bond he’s carefully created. And he can see that you’re finally starting to understand.

During your time together, Chrollo had a way of making you question everything. Slowly but surely, he instilled a sense of doubt and dependency within you. It was never obvious. That wasn’t his style. 

He had a way of making you believe that the outside world was cruel and dangerous. Every time he caught you looking at the door, he’d remind you–without even needing to say a word–that he was the only one who could truly protect you. A raised brow and slight tilt of his head was more than enough to remind you of everything he had told you before. He was never threatening about it, he didn’t need to be. A simple look from him was all it took for you to hesitate, to second-guess walking out that door. 

Would it really be better out there than here? Could you really handle Yorknew City? Surely, there were people out there much worse than him, right? People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone like you. You could imagine it so vividly: faceless men with rough hands that wouldn’t give a shit about you, your struggles, or your pleas. They’d only see you as a pretty little thing to use. Chrollo never said it outright, but the implication was always there: he wasn’t like them. His touches, though somewhat unwelcome and borderline possessive, were never violent. 

At least with Chrollo, you knew the rules and boundaries–his rules and boundaries. And he never lied to you, not really. The world really was dangerous. There really were people out there who would hurt you. He made sure that you believed he was the best choice. And who else was there for you, really? Not your friends, the ones he slowly convinced you that they didn’t care as much as they claimed. Not your family, who couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of your situation. No, it was just Chrollo. He wasn’t the monster you wanted him to be. He was something far worse: he was everything you didn’t know you needed. And that was much more fucking terrifying.

Finally pulling himself from his thoughts, Chrollo decides that he’s made you suffer in silence for long enough. “You should not have tried to escape, [name],” he says, his voice gentle but carries a clear note of criticism and disappointment. He deliberately uses your name, refraining from the endearing nicknames he usually employs. It's a subtle punishment, a way to remind you of your mistakes. He knows exactly what kind of impact it has on you–how the distance it creates makes you feel small, like a reprimanded child. “Predictably, it didn’t end well.” His tone is soft, almost conversational.

Chrollo pauses again, his fingers suddenly halting their soothing rhythm in your hair. Abruptly, he withdraws the comforting contact, depriving you of the warmth you didn’t even realize you’d come to depend on. You can’t stop yourself from tensing in his arms, struggling to stifle a choked sob. You can’t see it–not with your teary face buried in his chest–but there’s a faint curl of his lips, a flicker of satisfaction at your reaction. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh, his hand pulling away from your scalp completely. Now it rests on the frayed backrest of the couch, lazily tracing patterns on the rough fabric. 

“Running… it doesn’t suit you.” The words are so plain, so final. It's not suggestion or opinion, but a fucking fact. It’s the way he always spoke to you, as if he knew you better than you knew yourself. “It only leads you to pain and suffering. Surely, you’ve realized that by now?” There is no anger or frustration in his voice, just that same steady, disorientating calm that makes you second-guess everything. He speaks as if this entire situation is simply an inconvenience to him, which makes it near impossible to decipher his true thoughts and feelings. 

And then, Chrollo gently but firmly tilts your head up, leaving no room for you to resist him. Not like it would do you any good. Forcing you to meet his gaze, he studies you intently, his dark eyes partially shielded by the strands of raven hair that fall across his pale face. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he murmurs, and for some reason, it felt more like he was mocking you rather than giving you a genuine compliment. “I’m certain that you can grasp the situation.” As he speaks, his grip on your face tightens significantly, hinting at the threat that lies beneath his words. It’s his little way of telling you that you should know better.  

You wince as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your jaw, more out of surprise than pain. The pressure isn’t unbearable, but it’s enough to remind you of his control. You don’t have much faith in your ability to form a coherent sentence right now, not when your throat feels tight and your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Instead, you nod in response, hoping it’s enough. 

Chrollo’s eyes flicker with approval, and maybe a hint of amusement. It’s impossible to be sure with him. He releases your jaw as he lets out a satisfied hum of acknowledgement, now wiping away a few stray tears from your damp cheeks. The gesture should feel comforting, but instead, it leaves you feeling hollow, like being soothed after a punishment you never deserved. “Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue easily, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re emotional,” he says, almost to himself. “But you’ll understand in time.”

“It’s time to go home. We’ll continue this conversation later,” He adds, reminding you that this matter is far from resolved.

[sunnyswide]

Sorry for the long break (stuff and lots of more stuff)

2nd part here

Part 3 of my Murderer 141 🔪 x kidnapped reader (Final part :D)

This is smut ladies and gentlemen ;) Sexual and non-con activities up ahead!!

You wish you could say you saw this coming, but instead, your hands were tied and your mouth gagged in the back of a moving vehicle.

Tears spill from your dazed eyes as they stain the random clutter surrounding you. you wanted to scream, thrash around, try your best to escape but your head throbbed with a pounding sensation. Each bump on the road made you jump, the clutter sliding around.

You look for anything, a sharp tool or edge to rip at the meticulously tied rope but nothing. it was just pieces of cardboard, a few small duffel bags, empty plastic storage containers, and the fresh smell of bleach.

Finally, you feel the car stop, the sounds of muffled footsteps on breaking sticks closing in. You shut your eyes, rubbing the tears against the sandpaper-textured trunk floor. The door opens, the light piercing past your eyelids and making you twitch.. did they see it?

"good afternoon love"

Price flicked his fingers against your cheek. obviously, he saw.

"Now if I untie you.. you promise you won't run?"

He chuckled, pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You watch him intently. Should you agree and make a run for it or just stay silent? Would you even outrun him?

"I won't run.."

He smiles.. that innocent ol' smile you trusted so much. He grabbed your quivering hands in his, untying the rope nice and slowly. Letting you adjust your wrist and stretch out your arms. You sit on the edge of the car trunk, peering over his large torso at the surrounding area. A thick pattern of pine trees extends to the edge of your sight everywhere. Not a single sign or post, the trail wasn't even paved out. The smell of nature was intoxicating, making you scrunch your face at how strong your senses seemed to repulse at the air.

Or maybe it was the bleach mixing in with everything.

Price watches your eyes search for freedom and humanity but nothing. He watches as hope escapes your dilated little pupils.

Oh how he wished he could keep you for himself, a frightened little deer in headlights, a lost animal in the freezing rain. His lost little pet.

"Done looking?"

You look up at him, your body trembling, some part of you knowing no one will come and save you. They made sure of it.

You nod your head silently, letting him guide you to wherever. Running was futile, the sun was slowly setting behind the trees casting decrepit shadows across the ground. You follow him to a wooden manor, something you think you'd see in every slasher. He opens the door, stepping aside for you to step in first. Ladies first right?

You walk in slowly, the wooden planks making a low creak with every movement. At some point, you thought of what they would do next. torture you? starve you? play cat and mouse till you tire out and wither away? Fucking hell you were scared, getting kidnapped and dumped into a "Nowhere forest".

"Scared?"

Price places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down into your ear, grabbing at your waist with his other. His touch is colder.. rougher than ever before. You let out a small gasp, titling your head up against him. Play it cool.. play it cool... your heart was racing, and sure as hell he felt it.

"fuck you.." You whimper out, trying to pry his hands away from you.

You were certain they'd kill you... tear your heart out and eat it like demons. Right?

"You'll be the one doing that for me Love"

He pushes you against the wall, your back arched perfectly as you yelp in pain before his hands grip tightly around your neck.

"That right.. scream for me Doll"

He tugs down your skirt along with your panties, letting them drop down to the floor. You squirm against his hold but to no avail. You hated it.. you hated it... But your body was screaming the opposite.

"Don't worry... I'll prepare you"

Price spits on his calloused fingers, rubbing them along your stomach down to your cunt. Stopping when he realizes how soaked you were. ".. You're enjoying this?" He let go of your neck.

He smeared your juices against your folds, Fucking hell you were dripping. He pushed one finger in with ease, listening to the sweet gushing sounds your pussy made. And another.. spreading his fingers apart inside of you.

".. just fingering your sweet little cunt got you dripping like this love"

You moaned, your body betraying your thoughts. You didn't want this! You..You didn't!

He stopped abruptly like he knew what you were thinking.

"n.o" you squeal out. He smiles letting his fingers sink slowly into you.

You look up at him, desperation coating your eyes as you begin to bounce up and down his fingers. Your hands landed on either of his shoulders, quicking the pace of your hips.

"Price... move.." You beg him through pathetic moans. His fingers were drenched in your wetness, your gummy walls desperately needing to be stretched.

"Fucking whore.."

He slips his fingers out quickly replacing it with his achingly hard cock. You squeal as he slams into you, completely bottoming out in one swift thrust. Tears stream down your face as he plows into you, jackhammering himself into your little entrance.

You wrap your legs around him, making him penetrate himself even deeper.

"Little.. Slut"

He breathes out with each thrust, reaching an all-time new high for him. Being the gentle trusting Price for so long, he finally let himself loose. You were sure he came in you.. white puddles of his warm cum coating his Dick. But he kept at it, somehow.. pounding you harder like his life depended on it.

"Price!.. S-Stop!" You choked out between hiccuped moans and screams.. you felt yourself losing consciousness. The sound of his heavy balls slapping against the red of your ass over and over, his hands bruising the fat of your hips.

His thrust became sloppy.. and rushed full of need before finally releasing even more of his cum inside of you. With a few final thrusts, he stopped but refused to take himself out of you.

"geez.. what a show"

Simon leaned against the, his hands crossed. you look over in horror and embarrassment forgetting there were three more.

The front door creaked opened.

"Yo! We're hom-"

Gaz just stared dropping his duffel bag as Soap peered over him. They stayed silent before smiling at Price who finally seemed to come to his senses.

"My turn" (soap and Simon)

"My Turn

"Fuck off I'm not done"

[i-love-frensh-fries]

Some times I think that chrollo genuinely despises the reader.

He goes out of his way to kidnapp them, lock them up and get ride of every single trait that made them lovable while knowing damn well they will be in pain and instinctively get ride of theis traits themselfs so he doesn't attack them.

They will probably hate him for life, loose their minds, get sick or just kill them self but he doesn't care 'cause that's what he inconsciously wants. To get ride of them and the things they make him feel.

"The one who loves reader isn't chrollo it's chrollo's inner child and he hates that"

Reader brings up his more human side the side he buried. That wounded child's cries that he thought he silenced a long time ago are back and now they are crying for reader. So automatically he needs to get ride of the cries he needs to get ride of reader.

The worst part is that he doesn't even know about his own motives so he keeps going. Stuck between wanting their love and wanting their pain 🥖 .

(I don't know if I make sense or not)

[motherkiwidear]

note: i had just finished the main story for Days Gone, a day or two ago and it was really good imo. i’m definitely going to try and 100% it, but until then please enjoy this.

pairing: Deacon St. John x fem!reader

tags: @slxyquxxn 💚

not proof read, my bad. 🥲

“___! ___, this is Deacon! If you can hear me, please respond.”

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Rikki asked, as she approached Deacon’s stressed figure.

“___’s not picking up her damn radio.” Deacon replied, his words laced with worry and slight annoyance.

He sped walk over to his bike and mounted it in one swift motion. Wordlessly telling everyone that saw him, he was beyond worried and scared.

“Well, I’ll—”

“You’ll stay here, I got this.”

“Deek…”

“Rikki, I’m serious.” She scoffed and folded her arms in annoyance.

You were her friend too, and for her to be forced onto the sidelines, didn’t sit right with her. But she was always a radio away, if her assistance was needed.

“Fine, but Deacon?” He turned and looked her in the eye. “You bring her back in one piece, you got me?”

He didn’t reply, but he had already promised himself that he wasn’t going to lose you. Not after finding someone, he couldn’t imagine life without.

He wasted no time, in getting on the road and heading to your last known location.

Once, he took care of the stray zombies, he put his tracking skills to work.

Crouched down, put his fingers against the dirt floor and noticed the footprints, “North.”

He told himself and followed the footsteps to a t, until they just stopped. “Come on, where’d you go?”

“Look all, I’m saying is..” Deacon was quick to duck around the corner as two Marauders approached, talking aloud. “Mike doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. I mean, seriously, why would he just take some random girl off the road?”

“You don’t know why, he did it?” One of them asked and the other shook his head, in total confusion. “You got a lot to learn about Mike, new guy.”

‘You sick fucks..’ Deacon waited for the right moment to strike, before taking out one of the guards, and taking the other one hostage.

“Listen to me, if you don’t want to end up like your friend there. You better tell me where Mike is.”

“Screw you!”

“Oh, hey. That’s no way to talk to a guy who controls your fate, is it?” Deacon wrapped his arm tighter around the stray marauders throat, waiting to see if he’d comply.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll tell you. Just stop.. stop!” He loosened his grip on the throat of one of your captors. “You see that cave over there?”

“I see it, what about it?”

“That’s where, we take all our.. All our victims.”

“Good, good. You did a great service, shame that you won’t be with us anymore.”

“Wait, what—?” A sickening crack was heard before his body slumped to ground.

He was never going to leave someone alive for the Freaks to feast on. Even the sons of bitches that took you hostage.

“Lost Lake, come in. This is Deacon St. John to Lost Lake, come in.”

Only a few seconds go by, before Boozer picks up the radio.

“Deek? What’s up, man?”

“Hey, Boozer. I found out where the sonofabitches might’ve took ___.”

“Shit, do you know how many of there are?”

“A handful, but not too much. I can handle ‘em.”

“Alright, well radio when you’re done. Give em hell brother. Boozer out.”

“Trust me, I will.” Deacon didn’t even sign off, before headed deep into enemy territory, mind filled only with thoughts of you and if you were here.

He intended to find that out.

The camp that was once filled with Marauders and Rippers, had to have come up with some sort of alliance.

No way they could coincide without it.

He put his tracking skills to use once more, and found you in some sort of shed, with the door locked. And with a bit of prying and force, he was able to get it open.

“Who’s there? Don’t you touch me!”

“Hey, hey… It’s okay, it’s Deacon.”

“Deacon?” You asked, as the blindfold was removed from your face, to reveal your bloodshot eyes and tear stained face.

You haven’t been there for long, but both groups knew no bounds.

“Hey, I’m here. You’re safe now. No one is going to lay a finger on you. I promise you that.” He stated, a vow to both him and you.

[i-just-wanna-read-fanfiction-pls]

Help Find Fic!! Please I'm Begging! 😭😭😭

This happened like late at night so I'm sorry for not being able to reblog and something happened with my chrome during that time so history is out of the option but this is the story;

Yandere Mafia Batfamily where instead they are not obsessed with the reader but Jason who runs away because he does not like the way the batfam runs things and tries to take them down. He has a new name he works in the precinct and where he met the reader who he befriends. So an accident happened and Jason gets hurts and reader brings Jason to the hospital and of course the batfam gets a notification on Jason being registered as the Hospital took his blood. Badabing badaboom they kidnap Jason and they also take the reader to get Jason to behave. So Duke is the one who talks to Jason because he got into the family when Jason was gone so Jason won't hate him as much and presented him with what happened, how they have reader in custody in the manor and if he behaves they won't do something bad to reader if he doesn't then... Yeah. And he also gets it into Jason's head that the precinct was under Dicks thumb the whole time which was a lie. So they were going to have lunch (dinner?) together and that's where the Tumblr post ends. This is all I can remember and this is basically the fic but I need it! I need to see how the batfam then evolves to being obsessed with reader as well!

[jokeringcutio]

Menstruation Kink – Grabber x Captured!Reader (Explicit SMUT, Read ALL WARNINGS)

@susiesterling-17 I wasn't sure if you wanted a sweet fic with Grabber taking good care of Reader, or if you wanted perverted smut. I wrote the latter. But if you meant the first, let me know and I'll write you a more innocent and sweet comfort fic as well ;)

Menstruation Kink – Grabber x Captured!Reader

You awoke with a start, the cold air in the basement chilling your bones as you shivered uncontrollably. A sharp pain tore through your lower abdomen, making you wince. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you tried to make sense of the situation. But then, realization dawned on you as you felt the wetness cold and sticky between your legs.

You had gotten your period while being held captive by the Grabber.

"Oh no," you muttered under your breath, fear creeping up your spine. Blood stained the dirty mattress beneath you, creating an unsettling sight. You’d completely missed the start of it, had awoken only when it was already too late.

Panic set in as you attempted to clean up the mess with what little resources you had at your disposal. You scooped with your hands, then tried to flip the dingy old mattress over, but your cramps prevented you from doing that.

"Please, not now," you whispered, desperation tinging your voice.

Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the dirt and grime that clung to your skin. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless in this dank prison. The heavy flow showed no signs of stopping, and you could feel the blood soaking through your clothes.

"Fuck... what do I do?" you muttered, your mind racing with possibilities and outcomes.

Your breathing quickened, each inhale and exhale echoing through the cold, dark space. Time seemed to slow down as you fought to maintain some semblance of control over your body and the situation. But deep down, you knew that it was a losing battle.

"God, please help me," you prayed, your voice barely audible.

You couldn't escape the feeling of dread that gripped your heart, squeezing it tighter and tighter until you felt like you couldn't breathe. The blood-stained mattress was a grim reminder of your captivity, and your thoughts wandered to the mysterious man who kept you here - the Grabber. He wouldn’t be happy, you thought, having seen how easily he was angered.

The basement seemed to close in on you, the darkness pressing against your skin like a suffocating blanket. You shuddered, the air in the basement cold and damp. The pain in your lower abdomen grew more insistent, a cruel reminder of your body's betrayal. You had to do something to clean up this mess.

Dragging yourself from the bloodied mattress, you made your way toward the corner of the room and looked behind it, where you spotted the toilet paper next to the grimy old toilet. It was a small mercy, but one you'd cling to.

"It’s not enough," you whispered, as your fingers trembled while unraveling a length of toilet paper.

Taking deep breaths, you began wiping away the blood, trying not to gag at the scent of copper and mildew that filled the air. Your eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for anything you could use to help your predicament. That's when they landed on the old rugs, dirty and frayed.

"Better than nothing," you muttered, as you grabbed a rug and instantly flinched and doubled over. The pain in your stomach was too bad, and for a moment you feared you’d start to vomit too. But luckily, you managed to keep the bile down that rose within your throat, and you took a few deep breaths before you decided you were in no condition to move the heavy rug right now.

“Damn it all,” you muttered, limping your way back to the mattress to lie down for a moment. Standing there, bleeding all over the floor, would not help your cause. And as you lay upon the bed you moved your hands to press against your abdomen, wishing the pain away.

With tears in your eyes, you grunted. “Please, please, please,” you silently begged. You longed for escape, for freedom, but deep down, you knew that it was all in vain. You gave in, if only for a moment, and closed your eyes.

You would try and flip the mattress as soon as the pain became less. It would have to do.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed through the basement, making your heart pound with terror. You knew it was him. The Grabber. The man who had taken away your freedom and tormented you for his pleasure. Albert had cleverly kept his name hidden from you, so you knew this man by no other name than the one the media had given him.

"Please... don't let him come down here now," you begged, knowing that there was no one to hear your pleas. The door opened to reveal your captor. His mask covered his face, showing only his chilling blue eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he growled, eyes widening at the sight of the bloody room. He looked around, confusion and anger fighting for dominance in his gaze. "What the hell happened here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

He must think you’d been trying to murder yourself, you realized with a start,

"Please," your voice cracked, "it's not what it looks like." You could feel your legs trembling beneath you, fear making your words shaky and weak. You bravely tried to sit up, but the cramps made it ten times harder.

His eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of deception. Then, realization dawned on him, and the fury in his gaze softened, if only slightly. "You're on your period, aren't you?" he asked, his tone holding a mix of disgust and pity.

"Y-yes," you stammered, tears threatening to spill over as you lowered your gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

Fear clawed at your insides as you watched Albert's reaction shift, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and sadistic pleasure, and you knew that something much worse than his anger was brewing.

"Please," you whispered, your voice shaking with terror, "please, don't..."

"Quiet," he commanded, stalking towards you like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his gaze roved over the gruesome scene with that twisted arousal only heightened your fear, lending an edge of desperation to your words.

"Please, I...I'll do anything," you stammered, tears streaming down your face as he loomed over you, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers grazed your trembling arm, sending sparks of panic racing through you.

"Anything?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low and laced with menace. "You'll do anything to make up for this filthy mess, won't you? Because you know the consequences if you don't."

"Y-yes," you choked out, barely able to breathe under the weight of his oppressive presence. "Please, just...just tell me what to do."

Albert leaned in close, the lips of the mask brushing against your ear as he whispered his demands. Your heart hammered in your chest, each word sinking into you like a knife, shredding any hope that you might have clung to.

"Good girl," he breathed, stepping back and eyeing you with that chilling mix of lust and cruelty. "Now, let's see just how far you're willing to go to earn my mercy."

"Strip," Albert commanded, the single word slicing through the air like a blade. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears as you hesitated, frozen by the cruel order.

"Please... don't make me..." you whispered, pleading once more for mercy that you knew wouldn't come. In response, he merely chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with a sadistic desire that left you trembling.

"All right then," he murmured, stepping closer until his body towered over yours, casting a menacing shadow. You shuddered under his gaze, feeling both terrified and strangely captivated by the dominant figure before you. His rough hands gripped your clothes, ripping them away with swift, forceful movements, leaving your vulnerable form exposed to his hungry eyes.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice a guttural purr that sent chills down your spine. "So fucking pathetic, so desperate for my approval. It's almost endearing." As he spoke, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of arousal stirring within you, mingling with a fear that threatened to consume you whole.

You wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to save you from this nightmare, but you knew it was pointless. There was no one to hear you, no one to rescue you from the monster who held your very life in his hands. And as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that didn't want to be saved, that craved the twisted dance of pain and pleasure that Albert inflicted upon you.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to look away from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul. The conflicting emotions swirled within you, a hurricane of fear and desire that left you breathless and aching for the touch you dreaded.

"Quiet," he snapped, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced your body to bend to his will. "You'll take what I give you, and you'll be grateful for it." The harshness of his words only served to heighten the storm raging inside you, a perverse mix of dread and longing that threatened to tear you apart.

"Please," you repeated, your voice barely audible as tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew that there would be no mercy, no reprieve from the torment he inflicted, but still, you couldn't help but beg for some semblance of compassion in his brutal touch.

"Pathetic," he sneered, his grip tightening as he continued to strip away the last remnants of your clothes. And as you stood there, naked and trembling beneath his cruel gaze, you couldn't help but wonder how you had come to this point, how you had become so entwined with the very man who should have been your worst nightmare.

The moment you were exposed to his gaze, your heart raced with a mixture of fear and strange excitement. Albert's fingers trailed down your body, a shiver following each touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The sheer intensity of his stare weighed on you, yet something within you longed for his touch.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, and you obeyed without hesitation, lying back on the blood-stained mattress. The cold, damp fabric pressed against your bare skin, heightening your vulnerability. Your eyes darted around the dimly lit basement, seeking an escape that didn't exist.

"Spread your legs," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a tremor through your core. You hesitated, but ultimately complied, feeling the fear mingling with a shameful arousal as you bared yourself to him.

"Good girl," he praised, and those words made your stomach twist with both repulsion and an odd sense of gratification. He approached the edge of the mattress, unzipping his pants and releasing his throbbing erection. His eyes darkened, locked onto yours with a predatory hunger.

He positioned himself between your quivering thighs, gripping your hips with bruising force. "Ready or not," he warned, a sinister smirk playing on his lips behind the mask. He didn’t need to remove it for you to know it was there. The glint in his eyes betrayed it all. And then, without further ado, he thrust into you, a guttural groan escaping his throat as he filled you completely.

Your walls stretched with a quelch. Blood coated his cock as he slowly pulled out again, glancing down to admire the mess you had made of him. “Hmm, looks good,” you heard him say, a low but pleased grunt. And then he was inside of you again, stretching you without mercy.

"Ah, please!" you cried out, the initial pain quickly giving way to a searing pleasure that threatened to consume you as he shallowly thrust inside of you. Then deeper and harder, slowly picking up a pace. You tried to claw at him, tried to breathe, as his thrusts became more forceful. Each powerful stroke sent shivers down your spine and left you gasping for breath, your entire being focused on the sensation of Albert inside you.

"Look at me," he demanded, his grip tightening on your hips as he continued to pound into you with relentless ferocity. You met his gaze, your eyes brimming with tears, but unable to look away from the man who held your life in his hands.

"Such a good, obedient girl," he whispered, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. Your heart clenched at the praise, even as your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight back against the twisted pleasure that coursed through your veins.

"Please... I can't..." you whimpered, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensations, both physical and emotional. But Albert merely chuckled.

"Too bad," he murmured behind the mask. Without a warning, he pulled back. You gasped, stared up at him, and waited for what was to come next. And as you expected, he thrust inside of you hard, hitting you deep, bruising the entrance to your womb with his hard cock. The force of the impact sent stars dancing across your vision, and you couldn't help but moan, your body surrendering to the brutal rhythm he set.

"Take it all," he growled, and something within you snapped, leaving you utterly at his mercy, embracing the pain and pleasure that threatened to engulf you whole.

Your body ached. Albert's thrusts slowed and his grip on you tightened possessively. He was going to come, you realized with a shock. And so were you.

Warmth flooded your insides as Albert came with a groan. Your walls pulsed around him as you cried out. The moment seemed to last forever, with him resting his head against you, his hips still against your own, his cock pulsing and your pussy milking. Once he was done he slipped out, cock leaving a trace of mixed juices down your thigh. You didn’t care about it much. You knew there’d be blood, and the mattress was already stained beyond repair.

"Grabber..." you whispered, though you couldn't be sure why. Were you pleading for mercy? Begging for understanding? Or was it simply an acknowledgment of the twisted bond that had formed between you and this man who held you captive?

"Shh," he murmured, nuzzling against your neck as if to soothe your frayed nerves. But his touch only served to heighten your inner turmoil, your heart clenching with a mixture of fear, desire, and shame.

"Please... let me go," you managed to say, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You knew they were futile, nothing more but a desperate plea for a freedom that seemed further out of reach with each passing moment.

"Never," Albert growled, the possessiveness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "You're mine now, my sweet little captive."

The thought sent a sickening jolt of arousal through you, even as your mind screamed in denial. How could you crave such darkness? How could you find comfort in the very thing that brought you so much pain?

"Please... I don't want this," you whimpered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. But Albert only chuckled, his mask cold against your ear.

"Your body says otherwise," he taunted, fingers tracing a path up your trembling thigh, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "Such a good girl, always so responsive to my touch."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you completely broken, even as your body betrayed you time and time again.

"Please," you whispered, desperation lacing your voice. "Have mercy."

"Mercy?" Albert mused, his grip on you not relenting as he considered the word. "You don't understand, do you? I'm showing you mercy right now. I could have ended your life so many times, but I chose to keep you here instead. To possess you in every way possible."

His words sent a fresh wave of terror through you, even as some dark part of your soul clung desperately to the fragile connection that existed between you. You wanted to hate him, to loathe every fiber of his being. And yet, there was an undeniable allure to the power he wielded over you.

"Please..." you breathed, your vision blurring as tears threatened to spill over. He paused for a moment, his eyes studying your face with unnerving intensity.

"Rest," he said finally, his tone softening ever so slightly. "We'll talk more later."

And so, with no other choice, you lay spent and exhausted in Albert's arms. As your eyelids grew heavy and sleep began to claim you, your mind swirled with a mix of pleasure, shame, and a growing sense of entrapment. Were you ever going to get out of here? ~ Fin ~