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jokeringcutio · 6 months

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Request Fill: Tears ( Grabber x Reader )

AN: There are some Halloween-themed reader-inserts coming up in the upcoming days. Keep an eye on my account if you like my writing style.

Title: Tears Fandom: The Black Phone Pairing: The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x Captured! Reader Rating: Explicit! Warnings: Kidnapped!Reader, Dub-con/Non-con, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Mocking/Cooing, use of 'Little One', Belt Whipping, Name Calling (Good Girl), Reader might have a praise kink. This is a prompt fill by one of my top supporters. If you want to show your support, you can always buy me a ko-fi.

The prompt (I also added the items you sent in your later message):

TEARS

The chilly air brushed past your legs, reminding you once again of how vulnerable you actually were. Lying there like prey, waiting for the monster to come again. You hated it, but until you figured a way out, you would have to do with all the lemons life decided to throw at you. Even if they came in the shape of a demonic stranger who hid himself behind masks and depravity.

You had grown tired of being tied to Albert Shaw's bed, having only an old oversized t-shirt that belonged to him to preserve some of your dignity. You knew that the cloth was a lie, though. Easy access, that was all it was. His hands would roam underneath as easily as breathing.

The cold metal of the handcuffs dug into your wrists as they kept you bound and vulnerable on the soft mattress. A contrast that was as big as your kidnapper’s personality: hot and cold. Evil and kind. An icy chill swept through the room, causing goosebumps to form on your skin and making the hairs on your legs stand on end. You had felt it before, and it usually meant the front door had been opened. He’s home. The thought sent a chill down your spine. Loud barking of the dog confirmed he had indeed returned from walking their round.

You held your breath and listened for the sound of footsteps. Was he heading your way? Or would he go to the kitchen first? The soft mumbles of the man reached you and you assumed he must be talking to his dog. Perhaps you were in luck and he’d leave you alone for a little while longer. But then the door creaked open and in walked Albert, wearing only the upper part of his mask. It concealed the top of his face, but his devil's horns no longer frightened you. What did send shivers down your spine, however, was the sight of his lips and the smirk that played upon them.

He showed off his sharp canines in a grin that spelled what was to come. He wanted to touch you again.

"So, how have you been, little one? Not too scared while I was away, I hope,” Albert drawled, his words dripping with sinister intent. Little, you huffed. He seemed to like to call you that way just to establish some kind of power balance between the two of you.

You tried to keep your breathing calm, though your heart raced like a wild animal caught in a trap. Your eyes followed his every movement, trying to anticipate what he would do next.

“I suppose you can show Daddy how much you missed him,” he continued in that overly dramatic theatrical voice. He moved to the side of the bed and carelessly dropped his cardigan at the end of the bed, just out of your reach. Teasing you.

But you knew what it meant.

His chest was already bare, had been so underneath the piece of garment. He’d never fully dressed after the last round, you realized with a shock.

"Please, don't..." you whispered, but your voice wavered with fear, betraying any semblance of bravery you hoped to display.

Albert chuckled, deep and throaty, sending shudders up your spine. "Now, now, sweetheart. You know I can't resist you when you're all trussed up like this."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and retaliation, even though you knew it was futile. In this room, with Albert looming over you, there was no way out, no hope for reprieve.

As he approached you, you could see the hunger in his eyes and feel the weight of his gaze as it roamed over your body. It felt like a predator sizing up its prey, and you knew that soon enough, he would once again have his fill.

"Let's see how feisty you are tonight," Albert mused, his voice low and grating.

He approached you with a predatory grace, his hands reaching out like tendrils seeking to coil around your body. You hissed and tried to pull away as he ran his palms all over your trembling form, but there was nowhere to go, no escape from his touch.

"Still got some fight in you, huh?" Albert growled, growing impatient with your resistance. His palms slid down your naked thighs, calloused skin brushing past soft flesh. You felt his fingertips as they traced patterns down your sides, down your hips and legs, how his nails raked past your skin.

He moved his hands up and down a few times, admiring you, exploring you. He cupped your breasts underneath the shirt, tweaking your nipples between his fingertips a few times for good measure, having you bite back a moan.

A low growl escaped his throat, but you didn’t know whether it was a sound of approval or annoyance at the way you still tried to resist him. His hands ran down from your breasts, past your belly and to your hips where he got a good grip on you.

“Come on, sweet thing, open up.” His ice-blue eyes stared intently at you through the holes of the mask. His lips were curved upward in a grin full of malicious intent. You realized he wanted you to spread your legs, which you did, hesitatingly.

His one hand sneaked in between while the other pressed down on your thigh, forcing you to keep your legs spread open for him. He rubbed his thumb past your clit, little circular motions that sent jolts of pleasure down your core. You bit your lip in an attempt to keep silent. You didn’t want him to hear how he played you like an instrument, how much pleasure he sparked deep inside. But your walls slickened, so he must know. Your body never allowed you to hide its reactions.

“There,” he whispered, almost lovingly. And again. “There.”

Disgusted by the pleasure he made you feel, you tried to move your hips away from him. Just anything to relieve some of the tension you felt building up inside your core. He was working you towards an orgasm, you felt it. But you didn’t want to give him the pleasure.

Your reluctance didn’t go unnoticed, and with a sigh, he took his fingers from your clit. With a clap of his hands on his knees he pushed himself up into a standing position. Your heart pounded as he slowly removed his belt, the leather slithering against itself like a snake preparing to strike. You knew all too well how much he enjoyed using it on his victims, and fear tightened around your throat like a vice.

"Please..." you choked out, bringing your knees together to protect your precious core from his roving eyes. But your plea fell on deaf ears.

“Now, now,” Albert cooed, “Good girls deserve treats,” he said, swirling the leather band of the belt around his left hand, then pulled at the ends, showing the belt as it stood taught. You couldn’t help but feel how your eyes were drawn towards it. A clear signal that you were in trouble.

You trembled when he took a step closer towards you again. With his right hand, he let go of the belt, so the torturous item was only held in his left. But that right hand – oh. You dreaded to look at how he spread his fingers and then pushed down upon your tummy. His hand slipped lower and tapped against your knee.

“Bad girls need to be punished,” he said, huskily. “Now, open your legs again for me, sweetheart.”

You felt the pressure he gently supplied with his right hand on your knee and did as you were told, not eager to make him use force. As you lay there, trembling, you tried to think of anything but the man now looming in front of your cunt. You could feel his breath pass over your skin. Keeping your legs apart cost you real effort and you knew that he could tell you were trembling from fear. His thumb started to draw small circles on your thigh, effectively keeping your legs spread open with the comforting motion. As if it was enough to appease you.

“Ah there,” as he studied your exposed flower, wet and pulsing for his cock. “What a pretty sight, little one.”

For a moment, you glanced at him through your lashes, thinking that perhaps you had escaped the dance. Perhaps him showing off his belt had been enough; a reminder of a punishment you could have deserved if you defied him any further.

But you were mistaken.

Without a warning, he fiercely pushed your leg down with his right hand, his thumb no longer making soothing motions. Then raised the belt up into the air with his left.

You instantly knew where he wanted to strike.

No. Anywhere but there.

"Tell me you want this," Albert demanded, his left hand still up in the air. You could see the leather of the belt glisten teasingly, challenging you to defy. His knuckles had turned white, the leather straps were circled around them just once. His gaze locked on yours, unrelenting and unforgiving.

"Say it."

You couldn't bring yourself to utter the words, your defiance sparking something dark within him. With a sadistic grin, he struck down. A loud snap and an instant jolt of pain as he deliberately smacked it against your pussy. The pain seared through you, and you couldn't hold back your cries and tears.

"Say it," he ordered, his tone callous and cold. "Tell me you like it." He raised the belt again like a whip and panic seized through you. You struggled against your bonds anew and would have closed your legs if he would have so much as allowed it.

The words didn’t come out fast enough, and so he hit again. Your hands curled into fists and your back arched. The tears welled up in your eyes as an awful cry escaped your lips. Your pussy burned.

“You sweet little thing,” you heard the man coo, mockingly. That demon, you thought, as you tried to look at him through the tears in your eyes.

He fell silent and for a moment, simply stared at you. Just as you were starting to wonder why, a grin twisted his lips. “I love it when you cry,” his voice was low and husky, dripping with arousal. This whole thing got him turned on, you realized with a start. He derived pleasure from your pain. The bastard.

“But you know what?” he asked, voice sultry. You didn’t want to know. Your pussy still hurt and you did not think you could stand another blow. Tears were still rolling down your cheeks, you could taste them. “I love it even more when you take my cock,” Albert said, voice dangerously low.

“Now, I will ask you again,” the warning was clear. “Do you like what I am giving you?” He raised the belt once more, igniting fear deep inside of you. You wiggled against the bounds again but felt his burning hand upon your thigh, reminding you he had no scruples in hitting you once more.

"Y-yes," you gasped out, the humiliation burning as hot as the pain. "I like it."

He watched you, the mask hiding his true expression. But you could feel the anger behind it.

“Daddy,” he sounded furious. The calm kind of furious that made you know not to make any missteps again. “I like it, Daddy,” he said, waiting for you to repeat the words.

His eyes gleamed with depraved satisfaction. The belt was still raised dangerously beside his head. The hand he had on your leg, pushing them wide apart, pressed even harder, betraying his anger.

You bit your lip, your shame and self-loathing warring with your desperation to end the torment. You could try and struggle all you want, but you knew you could not break free. That this man had you. All of you. And he would take all that he craved. Finally, you gave in, whispering the word that sealed your submission.

"I like it, Daddy..."

The belt lowered., but you did not draw a sigh of relief. It was too early for that. Your pussy stung from the hideous slaps he’d given it. And yet, your core felt slick. As if your body actually wanted it. As if he was telling you to say what your body already betrayed. That you wanted it. Him. More.

As if he could read your mind, you heard his low voice grumble. “Tell me you want more,” the low command made you want to curl up into a ball and hide your vulnerable flower from his wicked belt.

“I need more,” you said, a breathless whisper as you finally dared to raise your gaze and look at him fully. He stood there, sweating, panting, obviously aroused. The tent in his pants gave it away.

“Need it,” he sounded pleasantly surprised by your choice of words. Then he dangled the belt towards your pussy, having the leather dip against your slick pussy lips. “Need my cock in there?”

You squeezed your eyes shut in shame and swallowed. A silent nod was your first reply, but you could tell by the way he pushed the belt against your slick core that it wasn’t enough. And so you opened your eyes again to caught his staring, waiting.

“I need your cock,” you said, chest heaving up and down rapidly. “Daddy.”

A pensive hum, voice dripping with lace and sin. “I thought so.”

With your eyes squeezed shut, you could feel it. First, he dipped forth. A warm, wet tongue licked the tears from your cheek.

Then, a low hum.

“Delicious, little one.”

The words made you flinch, though you tried to hide it.

The rough leather edge as it tapped gently against your clit. He was dangling the belt in front of your pussy, letting the leather slip past your sensitive slit, forcing a moan from your lips.

A low laugh escaped him, then he suddenly grew silent.

"Enough," Albert finally whispered, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he lowered the belt. The torment ceased, leaving you shaking and gasping for breath.

He moved closer, cradling your head in his strong hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. His grip was firm, almost painful, but it was the obscenities that escaped his lips that made you feel small and defenseless.

"Such a pathetic little thing," he sneered. "You're nothing without me, you know that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you couldn't turn away from his piercing gaze. You tried not to look down at how he palmed his own hard cock through his pants while breathing heavily. You knew he was right, and it shattered what little dignity you had left.

“Fuck, those pretty tears of yours,” he murmured. You’d forgotten he liked it when you cried, and threw him an angry glare.

His laughter was cold and unforgiving as he undid his fly, exposing his hardened length. He looked down at you with predatory eyes, taking in your bound form, the bruises and welts that marked your skin. The tears in your eyes.

You saw him close his eyes for a short moment, throat bobbing as he swallowed, then opened his eyes again and let out a shivering breath. He studied you while he took his cock in his hand and though you tried not to look down at him preparing himself, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of his hard throbbing shaft. The skin was already purple, the veins angrily popping out, the head leaking in anticipation. You’d seen him hard before, but never like this.

"Please," you choked out, hoping against hope that some shred of mercy remained within him. But deep down, you knew better.

"Still begging, are you?" he taunted. "You never learn."

"Please don't..." Your voice cracked, fear making it impossible to speak more than a whisper.

"Too late for that," Albert growled, positioning himself between your legs. “In case you’d forget,” here he hesitated, letting the tip of his shaft brush threateningly past your entrance. “You’re mine.”

And then, despite your pleas for him to stop, his hips moved forward and he buried his cock deep inside - another act of dominance, another reminder of his control over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, the humiliation, the utter degradation. But there was no escaping it, not when he held you so completely in his grasp.

You whimpered as you trembled underneath him, feeling how his length dipped deep inside, how all his ridges and veins stroked your walls and stole your slick. It was just one thrust to bury himself to the hilt and establish his dominance. But as he slowly moved out, you felt it: all of him. It felt ridiculously good. He was hot, warm, rigid, unyielding. His hips moved fiercely against yours, working his way back into your throbbing pussy.

You felt his teeth as he grinned against your neck while his grip on you tightened.

"Oh, that is so good, little one," he breathed against your ear as he thrust into you, each movement calculated to remind you of your place in his world.

He was ravishing you like a man starved. You could feel it, the passion with which he moved his hips against yours and how the head of his shaft battered your insides without mercy, spurting pre-cum along the way. He slipped from your core way too easily, the way now lubed with a mixture of your combined juices. He let out a laugh, making you flinch for his lips were still near your ear.

“You’re so, so wet,” he breathed, the puff of air sending goosebumps to form on your skin. You closed your eyes and tried to block him out. But he slid in and out of you smoothly, lubing your walls, hitting a spot inside that made your pussy quiver around his hard cock. At first, when he took you, the pain threatened to consume you, each thrust like a burning dagger inside your already bruised and battered body. But as he moved within you, something began to change – the fear and disgust that had been your constant companions began to ebb away, replaced by a twisted kind of pleasure.

"Fuck... why does it feel so..." he gasped out, and you had to agree. You were unable to comprehend the sensations coursing through you. The agony was still there, but it was being overtaken by waves of ecstasy that left you breathless and wanting more.

Without a warning, your walls started to clamp down hard, milking his cock hard and eager, drawing a loud moan from your lips that you were too late to withhold. Your fingers curled above your head, your whole body twisted in the throes of desire.

And above you, thrusting still, your masked captor grinned down at you. A droplet of sweat fell from his head upon your half-clad chest – the shirt had ridden up to reveal your breasts.

“That’s it,” the words were vague, blocked out by the bliss of your orgasm. You felt how his fingers dug deeper into your skin, how his length kept battering your overly sensitive walls as he worked himself towards his own. His thrusts became erratic, and just when you thought you could take it no more, he slammed inside of you hard and buried himself deep. You felt the pulsing of his shaft and the hot warmth that filled you deep inside your tummy.

You caught your breath, body sensitive around his twitching cock. That’s when you heard it, the whispered words near your ear. You felt Cheshire grin against your neck and felt how the edge of the mask pressed painfully against your cheek.

"You were made for this," Albert hissed, his fingers biting into your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake. "You were born to be my good girl, weren’t you?"

His words should have repulsed you, sickened you to your core. Instead, they ignited a spark deep within. Yes, you thought. You felt like you were. Your body was thrumming pleasantly, the afterglow of the orgasm making you feel dozy and warm and – not yourself.

"I know," you admitted, your voice barely audible through your tears. You weren’t quite certain if you said it just to please him and save yourself from his ire any longer. You were too tired at this point to fight. "Daddy."

"Good girl," he murmured, propping himself up on his elbows, cock still softening inside your core. His words echoed hauntingly through your mind. You were born to be my good girl. You were made for this.

You glanced up at him to meet his blue eyes, cold and hungry and devious. They rested upon you, piercing you, making you feel as small as he always wanted to make you believe that you were. You could see the darkness swirl within them. Something that you couldn’t name. He wasn’t done yet?

“Tell me what you are," he commanded, his voice low and dark, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'm... I'm yours, Daddy," you whispered, feeling his softening cock twitch at your answer. “I am your good girl.”

"Damn right, you are," he growled. And then, as if nothing had happened, as if the world hadn't just shifted beneath you, he leaned down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to your forehead.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle now. And before you could fully process what was happening, he slid down beside you on the bed, cock slipping out of your core with a squishy sound, his arms wrapping around you in a hold that was almost – almost – comforting.

You felt Albert's fingertips tracing the delicate skin of your bare arms, feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. His breath caressed your ear as he whispered words you'd never expected to hear from him.

"Such a beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. "Look at how well you take what I give you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sweet words and gentle touches somehow more terrifying than the violence that had come before. But there was something intoxicating about it too, a heady mixture of fear and desire that made it impossible to look away.

"Tell me you love it," he demanded, his fingers tightening around your arm. "Tell me you need it just as much as I do."

"I-I love it," you stuttered, feeling a flush of shame rise in your cheeks. "I need it, Daddy."

"Good girl," he purred, his grip on your arm relaxing as his lips brushed against your neck. The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming; your world narrowed down to the feel of his mouth on your skin, the warm breath tickling your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer. "Kiss me."

He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your submission. "As you wish," he breathed against your lips before capturing them in a passionate kiss.

It was a kiss unlike any other, a maelstrom of raw emotion that left you reeling, desperate for more even as you knew you should be pushing him away. But in that moment, wrapped up in Albert's warmth and the sweet lies he whispered into your ear, you couldn't help but feel comforted and loved.

And so you let yourself fall deeper into the darkness, knowing full well that there would be no return.

~ Fin ~

AN: Hope you enjoyed it :) In the days running up to Halloween, I will be posting a few Halloween-themed reader inserts. Some are smutty, some are dark, some or sugary sweet.

#albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #the grabber x reader #black phone 2022 #black phone reader insert #older man x younger woman #kidnapped!reader #grabber x you #black phone grabber fanfiction #grabber x reader #prompt fill #request fill #reader x villain

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sexy-monster-fucker · 2 years

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Silent Treatment

The Grabber x Reader

warnings: smut, Stockholm (that's for pretty much any fic about him lets be real), implied kidnapping, aggressive spanking, creampie

a/n: can't believe I'm finally writing for him. if you all enjoy this, feel free to request more from me. I will write it as soon as possible, I work a lot though lol. I also did not feel like writing a whole backstory scene about the reader getting kidnapped, we all know how it goes by now.

word count: 1,971

~~~

"Are you ever going to sleep?"

You shook your head a firm "No."

The silent treatment. For some reason in your sleep deprived state you decided this was the game you were going to play with your captor today.

He stood in the doorway holding a tray consisting of scrambled eggs and a glass Sprite. God... you hated scrambled eggs now. For what felt like nearly weeks you had been locked in the dingy basement only being fed those stupid fucking eggs once a day. You weren't sure how long you had been down there, but you knew it was too long. You gave up counting after the first three sunrises that would barely peak through the window. No matter how hard you forced yourself you could not get a good nights sleep. The dirty mattress was no helping. But being held captive was the biggest thing. You were a grown woman sleeping on a mattress too small for you.

He huffed loudly. The tray slightly rattled as his arms tensed in frustration. He stepped further into the room, finally you could make out more of him. It was hard to see when the light of the hall blinded you. That stupid fucking mask, again? His head cocked to the side as he saw you staring firmly at his mask. He wore it every time, this time without the top half. Just that bottom half with the stupid toothy grin. He acted like you had never seen his full face. The only thing that was hidden during your first encounter was his sharp blue eyes.

Those eyes.

They stared at you now. Anytime he was in the room his eyes did not leave you. You held eye contact with him as he placed the tray on the floor in front of your feet.

"If you aren't going to sleep, at least eat." He gestured with his hands. You rolled your eyes. Not a single sound left you. You could tell it was slightly bothering him. You usually were mouthy anytime he entered the room. You always did run your mouth no matter the circumstance. You grabbed the drink, kicking the rest of the tray away. It slid across the floor barely between the two of you. He squatted against the wall playing with his own hands. You could see his eyebrows furrowing. More emotion showed when the top half of the mask was missing.

"Feeling feisty today I see," he raised his eyebrows in frustration. You did not move an inch, just holding the stare you two shared. Oddly enough, you enjoyed looking at him. You knew it was crazy, you knew you were going crazy. The veins on his arm were constantly present, you could not help but admire them. He held himself more confidently then the younger men you were usually around. College age boys are so immature.

"What do you think about while you're up all night, sweetheart?" He asked. You knew he was trying to get you to say something, anything. You stared at him with heavy eyes. You were exhausted. The silence in the room echoed in your ears. He nodded slowly, "Is this how you're going to behave today?"

He stood, arms swinging limp at his sides. "There is no pleasing you... bring you a hand prepared meal and you throw it back at me..." he folded his arms in front of his chest. You mimicked his stance, crossing your arms in front of you. He scoffed.

"You're so fucking childish," he grumbled under his breath. You turned your head to look away from him. You refused to look at him now. Pretending to admire the room you were in. He stepped closer to you, hopping your eyes would dart to the side to glimpse at him. You did not budge.

"What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?" His hand caressed your cheek.

You eyes stayed fixated on anything but him.

"Wanna play a game?"

Silence.

"... I'll let you upstairs with me..."

A lie. You knew he was lying. Silence.

"We can watch a movie... I'll make something besides eggs... Just fucking say something..."

Silence.

He grabbed your cheeks with one hand, squeezing harder then you'd ever been squeezed there. "STOP. IGNORING. ME," he loudly growled. He leaned in to be nose to nose with you not letting up on his grip, "Didn't mommy and daddy ever teach you manners?"

You felt crazy. But you weren't crazy, maybe just stupid. You continued to ignore him. Only holding as much eye contact as you could. He shoved you away onto your back, "Speak when you're spoken to... roll over." You felt your face turn pale. You slowly shook your head in denial. "Do it or I'm going to make it hurt," he gritted through his teeth. You felt your mouth fall open and your lip quiver. It did not matter if you wanted to respond now, your body would not let you. You did as you were told for the first time today. You rolled over on all fours on the mattress, presenting your ass to him.

He growled with pleasure. You weren't sure if it was in response to you obeying or to seeing your ass up in the air to his mercy. Maybe both. He pulled your shorts down to expose your bare ass. His finger ran along the line of your panties. "You're so pretty, Y/N, especially when you behave," he praised you. You could not deny it went straight to your core. You felt dirty, but you didn't really care either.

He spanked your ass hard. You had to fight back the yelp that almost escaped you. It did not matter the situation you were currently in, you weren't going to talk. Not yelp. Not groan. Not make a sound. You were so fucking stubborn. He exhaled loudly before spanking you again. You jumped with each relentless clap of skin, but no sound left you. You bit into your lip hard, you swore the skin would break any second.

"SAY," another smack, "SOMETHING!"

For some reason his desperation made you unwind. You fell forward on your arms, letting out a pornographic moan. He stopped. There was no sound or movement between you for what felt like a lifetime. You were embarrassed. Your face was completely hot and red. Why did you do that? Were you fucking stupid? Oh God, what if he's mad?

One of his hands went to your side, encouraging you to roll over and face him. You did so. He was stiff in front of you, his hand went to your chin. You stared up at him, his eyes were blown with lust.

"I want to hear you do that again," his breath was broken and needy.

"Then make me," you finally spoke words to him.

He pounced on you, grinding his bulge into your core. You threw your head back with a moan. "Such a pretty girl," his hand framed your exposed neck. You could not help but smile at his words. This was so wrong and you knew it. But if you were going to be stuck here with him might as well have some fun.

"You want me to fuck you, gorgeous? Huh? Do you?" He used an almost mocking tone. You nodded in your blissful state. "Beg me," he gritted, "I wanna hear that pretty little voice you were keeping from me... come on."

You glared at him. You hated being mocked, but in this moment he was unbearably sexy to you. His hand put a slightly firm grip on your neck. Your eyes rolled back. "Please..." his name should have went there, but you realized he never told it to you, "Fuck me..."

You saw his eyes squint up in approval. "More. I'm not letting you by that easily, you better sweet talk me or I'll leave you down here begging," he spoke with so much power.

"I need you to fuck me. Please, I need you inside me. I'll behave from now on, promise. I won't ignore you ever again, please... please... please... I need you," you moaned at him. He exhaled an almost broken breath. "You sound so pretty begging me," he grinned under the mask wide enough you could see it in his eyes. His free hand went to his zipper. You stared with wide eyes as his freed his cock. He pumped his member in his hand a few times, "Take your underwear off." You swiftly did as you were told. He sighed as he saw your opening. He grabbed your panties from your hand and tucked them into his back pocket, "I'll keep those safe." He winked. Your face flooded with embarrassment and arousal.

He pressed his tip into your opening, you jumped. He chuckled at your movement. In one swift thrust, he bottomed out inside you. He held your hips, keeping you still. You moaned, "Fuck."

"Dirty mouth, Y/N," he leaned down slightly. You blushed at him. He began thrusting his hips slowly. Before you could fully adjust to him, his pace kicked up. He was slamming into you. You were moaning uncontrollably. "That's it, let me hear more," he sounded pleased. You began thrusting to match his movements. He groaned loudly, grunting each time your hips met.

"Tell me who you belong to," he growled.

"Y-You... only you," you moaned.

"Good girl."

You felt the coil in your stomach begin tightening. He was hitting every spot inside you perfectly. You were pulsing around him, so close to your edge.

"You think you're gonna cum without asking?"

Your eyes shot up to his. He tilted his head chastising you.

"Please..."

His finger went to your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. You could feel yourself about to come undone.

"Beg me."

"Please-Please-Please! I wanna cum, please let me cum." You whined.

He nodded, "Of course."

With that you came undone around his cock. He did not slow his rhythm as you fluttered around him. You threw your head back, your body going slightly limp. He leaned down, placing both hands on either side of you. You were staring directly into his eyes, panting. He continued thrusting inside you until he came. He slumped onto you slightly. He did not stay in that position long. He stood quickly, tucking his cock back into his pants. You whined when his weight left your body. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. He was attempting to catch his breath.

"Well... I have to go now," he began for the door.

"WAIT!" You called out to him. He froze slightly. "You're just gonna fuck me then leave? Wha-What the hell, man," you crossed your arms in frustration. He turned to face you again. His eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. "I have things to take care of and I've stayed down here long enough... I'll be back later, Y/N," he promised. "But... I don't want you to leave," you got teared up. He could see the tears forming in your eyes.

Something tugged in his chest. When did he go soft? Why did you bring out that side of him? Fuck.

He walked back over to you, placing a hand on your cheek. "I'll come back soon, I have things to take care of, doll." You pulled him into a hug. His body became stiff. What were you doing? He swallowed loudly, one of his hand went to your lower back pulling you closer to him. "We can do this again later when I have more time," he whispered into your ear.

He stood once again. "Try and get some rest. You should sleep better now," he chuckled to himself.

And with that he was gone. The loud door slamming behind him.

~~~

[END]

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this consider following me or joining my tag list! Inbox is always open, thank you for your support! <3

tags: @theroadreader ~ @purplelupins ~ @heif ~ @d4dd7sgirl ~ @lucyhammershit

#grabber x reader #the black phone #ethan hawke #ethan hawke x reader #black phone x reader #hunter mumbles #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics

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myers-meadow · 2 years

Note

hello, you don't have to write this if you ate uncomfortable. But I was wondering if you might be up for writing a Grabber x reader, where the Grabber knows that the reader is a masochist and the reader denies it completely.

Hop you enjoy this one! You didn't specify whether you'd like smut, but that is what I wrote, since it's my favourite <3

This was great fun 💞😊 Feedback is very welcome, and if you enjoyed this, don't feel shy to reblog :). That helps a lot.

Requests are still open btw :)) Link to my writing masterlist.

Warnings: smut, 18 + content, knife play, blood play, masochism, he's a bit mean.

Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

He was inside again. It stung with the stretch of him, toes curled until they cramped.

“Ah, be gentle,” you bid him, but he shook his head, eyes crinkled with a laugh behind the mask.

“I don’t think you want me to,” was all he said, before tightening his grip on your shoulder. He always seemed to want more from you, or something you weren’t able to give – but for now, everything was perfect. He drove into you mercilessly, one hand keeping you still, the other dragging the tip of a knife down your chest. Each gasp, whine or moan would change the way it felt against the skin. Perhaps because of the vibrations, perhaps because he just wanted it so – but it was delicious. The sting of it made you clamp down on him, and he hissed as if he was the one in pain. The sound of his voice made you spiral higher. Each shallow breath made your head swim. Everything about him was overwhelming, and each sensation was crystal clear.

He continued, smearing the trickle of blood over your chest, deepening the sting. “You love this, don’t you? You love when I’m rough. You love to hurt for me.”

As soon as you shook your head, you sensed his frown. Instead of responding, he pushed two fingers in your mouth, pushing them past your teeth. They tasted of blood.

“Well,” he said, softly groaning as another clench sent shockwaves through you both, took his fingers out of your mouth, the pressure returned to your shoulder, “if you admit it, I’ll tell you all the things I like about you.”

Your response came a little late for his liking, and he slowed down, lifted the knife and twirled it in his hand. “Or I could just stop, if you’d prefer?”

Of course he knew you’d cave. He knew you needed this as desperately as he did, that the weight of him, the edge of danger all made you dizzy with something akin to love.

Before he stopped completely, you spoke up, voice shrill and out of breath, but it was enough. “I need you, I need you as you are.”

He continued his slow torture of your insides, cocking his head. “Hmm, what do you need, doll?”

Barely more than a whisper, but he heard you. “I need you to hurt me.”

That did it, and he let himself fall onto you, pushing your legs back. “You’re so perfect for me,” he mumbled, the sound echoed through the mask, his breathing loud in your ear, so close, so close. With the knife in hand, he pressed it against the spot you needed him most, slowly moving the handle against the bundle of nerves, your back arching up into him.

“God, no, too much…” and your eyes pressed closed with a sudden and overwhelming explosion of sparks.

He moaned deeply, “my sweetheart, you’re taking it so well. You feel so good.”

His hips stuttered in his own climax, but he stayed inside, letting his weight rest on you, almost suffocatingly, but even that was the best feeling in the world as you slowly regained your breathing. You looked beside you, at the discarded knife, the small bloodstains on the white sheets, and smiled, kissed the side of his mask. He caressed your face and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, before letting himself sink by your side, sweaty, spent, gorgeous. The contentment buzzed through you as you looked at the eyes behind the mask, calm and adoring.

#the grabber smut #grabber x reader #black phone #the grabber x you #the black phone x reader #the grabber #the black phone 2022 #the grabber x reader #grabber x you #the black phone #the black phone fanfic #albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you #minors dni #request #horror movie fanfic #requests open

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dancingisdangerouss · 10 months

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Non Compos Mentis update alert!

Chapter 4: The Suave Deceiver is now up on my account here X

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katehawke · 2 years

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Me reading all the awesome fanfics you guys have to offer like:

I love this little community!

#grabber x reader #arthur harrow x reader #ethan hawke #the grabber #albert shaw #black phone #the black phone 2022 #stephen strange x reader #loki x reader

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cerebellam · 2 years

Text

Tag, You’re It - Chapter 2

The Grabber x Female Reader

Summary: The Grabber has you tend to the wound you inflicted on him

Warning(s): UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT. Language, blood/violence, kidnapping, large age gap (reader is 26)

Masterlist: X

A/N: Let me preface this by saying I do NOT condone the acts of The Grabber AT ALL. More details on this rant on the Masterlist. I hope you enjoy!

Shit. Fuck….FUCK.

The severity of your situation was finally settling in. Your breaths became ragged and fast and you found yourself beginning to hyperventilate. The tips of your fingers were tingling, numbness fighting to take over your extremities. You looked around your prison wildly, searching for any way out. No, no, no. You needed to get out of here. Get your shit together. How the fuck were you going to get out of this? You attempted a deep breath to calm yourself. You could slowly feel the oxygen return to your limbs.

You eventually rose from the bed, walking over to the only window in the room. It was a few feet above you- way too high for you to reach. You attempted to jump for the ledge anyway, unsuccessful. You even made your way to the black phone next to the bed on the wall, repeatedly pressing the switch hook in an attempt to hear a dial tone. You resentfully looked down, seeing that the phone’s wire was cut.

“Fucking, damnit.” You breathed, slamming the phone back on the hook.

You decided to try screaming in a last-ditch effort.

“HELP!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. For God’s sake, there had to be someone nearby that could hear you. Where even were you? Sure, some neighborhood somewhere...but you could be in another state for all you knew.

You cried out another call for aid, the sound of your voice reflecting around the small room and off the concrete walls.

“It’s no use, I’m afraid,” The Grabber’s sighing voice had entered your ears again. You hadn’t even heard him come in. “No one can hear anything down here, I soundproofed this room myself.”

You spun around to face him. “If there’s someone upstairs, they’ll hear me.”

“No he won’t. Not with the door shut.”

“He?”

The cerulean eyes behind the emotionless mask watched you carefully. The Grabber cocked his head.

“When the door’s shut you can’t hear anything from down here. So shout if you want, you won’t bother anyone.”

“Well, I think I’d be an idiot if I didn’t try,” You mumbled, squeezing your fists in frustration. There went that plan.

The masked man gestured down to the tray of medical supplies he carried. He approached the bed, sitting down on the edge and setting the tray down on the floor.

You sighed, returning to your spot on the mattress against the wall.

You lifted the tray on the other side of you on the mattress, digging through the pile of bandages and dampening the washcloth with the glass bottle of freshly boiled water he had provided.

“If this hurts…please don’t take it out on me,” you murmured, begrudgingly scooting closer to him and lifting the cloth to his neck. You began to wipe the caked blood from his skin. The saturated cloth gave a wet squelch against his epidermis, pink-tinged droplets cascading to his shoulder. You lifted the cloth to reveal a nasty open gash. You heard him wince and a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You paused a moment, watching him carefully. You didn’t know why you weren’t trying to strangle him with one of the bandages, or pouring alcohol in his face as you made a run for the door. You definitely considered it. His neck was exposed at the moment and at your disposal. But you also considered the fact that timing was everything, and right now, he would surely find a way to overpower you. You needed time to think this through.

“This is a stupid question, I’m sure,” you started, continuing to cleanse his wound, “but do you have any intentions of letting me go?”

“And just why would I do that, little dove?”

You mentally cringed at the title. You sure were a caged bird.

“Why? What do you want with me?”

He stopped your wiping motions, grabbing your wrist in his large hand and turning to look at you. His blue eyes were intense and unwavering.

“Don’t you worry about that. Just…play nice and I’ll decide just what to do with you,” he growled.

“Or you’ll kill me?” Your voice was just above a whisper, your lip trembling.

Silently, he released your wrist and ignored your question. A resounding yes, to you. An answer you already knew.

Then the fucker giggled. This sick fuck.

You tried your best to pretend you didn’t hear the titter and continued your first aid, finding sterile gauze and a large bandage among your brought supplies. You could feel his side gaze watching you as you worked,

“What’s your name?” He finally spoke.

“Why do you care?”

“I usually don’t.”

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You tried your best not to skip a beat.

“Margaret,” you swallowed, lying.

He dug into his pocket and you flinched, prepared for him to whip out a switchblade or something. He held up your plastic name tag between two fingers, ‘Y/N L/N, Registered Nurse’ embossed in white.

Shit. You forgot your uniform was in your duffel bag…which he stole from your car.

“I don’t like liars, Y/N.” He enunciated your name with a hiss.

“I-I’m sorry-“ you stammered, immediately regretting your decision to lie to your captor. You had messed up now.

“Why lie to me, little dove? I already have you exactly where I want you.”

Before you could even blink, his hand quickly snaked its way around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. You gasped in panic, heat rising to your cheeks. He slid his hand up your neck, taking your cheeks in his ringed fingers. He chuckled, a darkness rumbled in his chest. He tsked. “Naughty girl. I think you need a time-out.” His masked face was extremely close to yours. You could hear his heavy ragged breaths. You just stared at him, attempting to not let the fear in your eyes make itself known.

“Be a doll and wrap this up. I’ll need to be upstairs for a while. Something has come up.”

“What?”

“Never mind, what.”

His grip on you released and your body was practically burning with the urge to just go apeshit on this man, attacking him with everything you had. You wanted to rip that stupid mask off his face, rip further into his neck wound, and make a run for the door.

No. Be smart. Play his stupid game. You had time to think this through...right?

You finished his wound care by placing a sterile dressing over the gash.

“There. You need to keep it dry, change it tomorrow...clean your hands before you do. Change it sooner if it seeps through.” Or don’t. I don’t care. You held your tongue.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he hummed approvingly, lightly brushing his fingers against your chin as he stood. You guessed that was your thank you- your thank you for fighting everything in you not to rebel, not to fight back. Good girls didn’t try to attack their kidnapper. Jesus, how long would you play this game?

The Grabber picked up the tray, now littered with bloody bandages and wrappings, and faced the door.

“Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll be back soon enough.”

You hated the tone in his voice. You wish he didn’t know your name.

You were left alone again in silence.

Chapter 3

Tags: @strrvnge, @astroo-babe

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #the black phone #ethan hawke #al shaw #the black phone fanfic #grabber x reader

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years

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impact play headcanons ; albert shaw / the grabber (18+)

kinktober day five extra

pairing ; albert shaw x gender neutral!reader

note ; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

impact play is something that’s a given with al regardless of whether you know him as “albert” or as “the grabber” - and regardless of whether your relationship began consensually or not

if you first knew him as the grabber then impact play would be used as a threat to keep you in line and prevent you from trying to leave - particularly through the “naughty girl/boy/pet” game that he played whenever the basement door was left unlocked

whenever he caught you trying to leave, he’d force you over his knee and relentlessly beat you with his belt - covering you in bruises from your back to your ass to your thighs - all whilst scolding and degrading you for misbehaving

it’s enough to send a message and stop you from moving much for the week or so afterwards - but he won’t kill you… you’re too special for that

in his mind it’s just a light scolding to keep you in your place rather than anything as violent and depraved as it actually is

but if you met him as albert, he’ll treat you much more gently - treating impact play as a rare occasion to let out some of his darker urges without causing you too much harm

when you’re intentionally acting out, he’ll take you to the bedroom and lay you across his lap before giving you ten solid swatches to your ass and an additional five to each of the backs of your thighs - making you count them and soothing the marks lightly between each hit

despite himself he can be quite gentle with a lover, so you won’t get too bruised and cut up in this scenario - but he won’t go too lightly on you either, so sitting will be rather awkward for the next few days

either way you can expect to see a darker more sadistic side of him during impact play

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #smut #minors dni #the black phone x reader #tbp x reader #tbp smut #the grabber x reader #grabber x reader #the grabber smut #albert shaw x reader

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nicktremblaywayfu · 1 year

Note

Imagine, if Albert is a reader neighbor and they’ve known each other for a long time. But he’s kind of mean to reader. He constantly teases, pranks and does stuff like that. One day he’d gone too far in his teasing and make you cry.

Now He feel hurt.

This man is a magician and he knows well about pranks stuff and things. While he is a literal murderer who kidnap children from the street, he still has his gentleman side.

Whenever he was going to work as part time magician, he would call you to walk closer if he saw you on the street. Which always resulted in kinda mean pranks. You always let it slide as he was a magician and that's just his clownery side. From coin beneath your ears until the prank that use air horn and water. You kinda tired as the joke getting meaner from day to day.

One night he just arrived from his work (not as magician). But somehow he still equipped with countless prank. He saw you dressed nicely, thinking that you as well just returned from some place. Because he didn't wear his clown make up, you didnt think anything weird. So when he called you to come, you actually came. Until suddenly he let out a water gun prank, making your outfits all wet. While he laughed, you screamed in surprised and slapped him. Not knowing that he ruined your party time for this evening, he saw you crying to your house. And this Albert man felt guilty.

A simple apologize ain't enough, so he planned to take you to his basement a fancy restaurant. He wore his best brown suit, tidying up his hair and went to your house. Your face dropped into anger knowing the one that knocked your door was the prankster Albert, so you yelled at him nonstop until he pulled out a rose behind your ears. He then gently apologized, telling you his plan tonight. You were still mad ofc but who wouldn't say no to free food ?

Finally, there goes the night of you and Albert enjoying a fine dining in the town. He promised that he won't give you any mean joke again, and if he did you are free to slap him hard. He was truly a fine gents that you started to have crush on him tonight despite already knowing each other for years. He was so sweet, that you asked to hang out for a moment in his house after the dinner. Truly, this man was mean yesterday to you but now suddenly he turned into the most attractive man you ever saw in just one night.

Now that you were in his house, whether you ended up in his basement or you came home safely are on your choice ;)

#albert shaw #the grabber #ethan hawke #albert shaw x reader #the grabber x reader #grabber x reader #black phone #the black phone #the black phone (2022)#anon answered #ethan hawke x reader #Alvin's thought

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willshipanything-blog · 1 year

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Breaking the Rules- Chapter 3

Been a little while, but the next chapter's up- with the added bonus of Max (and Samson)!! Will make a chapter index soon once I can be arsed 😅

For now, Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here

Detailed tags and the whole fic if you prefer over on AO3.

Chapter 3- House Guest(s)

The stygian abyss of a dreamless slumber was broken by an intense, blinding whiteness, waking you unpleasantly from your peaceful sleep. Your sore eyes adjusted slowly to the sun-drenched bedroom, the late morning sun forcing its way through the gaps of the curtains. It was sweltering, and you were dripping in sweat. A throbbing headache had already begun to cluster at your temples, and your eyes felt puffy. A night of sobbing and crippling anxiety will do that to you. Was that the cause of the groggy feeling in your head and rancid taste in your mouth as well?

You hadn’t woken up feeling this terrible in a long while. Maybe last month, after an ill-conceived night of whiskey and a game of ‘Truth or Dare?’ with Al. A game you had lost, of course. You’d nursed the mother of all hangovers the following morning. Funny, how your mind instinctively coursed towards that happy (albeit wobbly) memory, rather than those other mornings. The ones where you’d woken with a dull ache in your head, littered with bruises and possibly a concussion from the violence inflicted on your body. A multitude of occasions where you’d stirred into consciousness to find yourself still trapped in that hellish basement by the Grabber.

You rolled onto your side, feeling like you might puke. Both from the splitting headache you currently had, and from the memory of the Grabber that had dared to wriggle itself free from the confines of your mind. Along with the wave of nausea, a sense of unease also washed over you: Al wasn’t here. Luckily, as you turned in bed you spotted a glass of water and a couple of Tylenol capsules on your nightstand. Al had left you to sleep off your worry, to rest after a draining night, but his calming, attentive presence was still felt keenly. Watching out for you even when he wasn't there. You felt better even before bringing the water to your dehydrated lips.

You threw back the tablets along with most of the now-tepid water, drinking in eager gulps, before dragging yourself to the bathroom to brush the putrid taste from your mouth and shower the perspiration off. The self-loathing- that was harder to scrub away under the cold spray of the shower. As the water warmed, the heat of the rising steam helped unblock your thoughts, but a tug of resentment pulled in your stomach like a fish hook caught painfully in your gut. For his brother, Al was going to hide the worst parts of himself, concealing his dark, dormant half and just being Big Brother Al. Your obfuscations were of pleasantries. Not just hiding, either, but actively mangling those memories into a mutilated version of themselves. It all felt so rotten, so unfair. You just had to remind yourself of the necessity of the hateful narrative you were going to tell. It isn’t real. It’s to placate Max. It’s to protect Al. Your mom, she was a wonderful person. Your stepdad was supportive. Jonathan was, at one time or another, your lover and your best friend. You wouldn’t forget that, even if your mouth contradicted those facts.

After trying (unsuccessfully) to wash away your melancholy reflections in the shower, you figured a mundane type of day might help you feel more relaxed, or at least a little less nauseated about the approaching evening. Cleaning, cooking, watching TV- the banalities of the day might lull you into a sense of normality. A little humdrum might trick you into forgetting the worry and tension that gnawed at your mind, strained your muscles, threatened to pull more tears from you. An ordinary day- that’s what you needed. Or, you thought as you dressed and traipsed down the hallway away from the bedroom, as ordinary an existence as was possible.

Things HAD been ordinary, relatively speaking of course. You weren’t so madly infatuated with your abductor that you couldn't see the wrongness in all of this. But you did love him enough that the rightness of it all eclipsed its dark counterpart, banishing it to a distant corner of your psyche. So lost in the gray matter of your mind as to be almost forgotten. And the routine that you and Al had slipped into helped to validate what you had, made you feel like a normal person in the normal world. Almost.

The long, languid weeks of late summer had breezed by in a heartbeat, but nothing felt rushed. It was effortless, as easy as being swept out to sea on a rip current. This life felt so dream-like, but you had an unsinkable clarity that kept you afloat- a belief that you could really have this, that idea cementing itself as fact with each day spent with Al. The routine of it all solidified that. The soft mornings, waking each other with delicate kisses and showering together before Al left for work. The meals where you talked endlessly, and Al usually listened, savoring your words along with the meals you’d cooked. Evenings spent listening to old records or watching black and white movies together. And nights, where you made love under the silky sheets, or occasions where Al donned the mask and brought out the belt. The game itself was unpredictable, and Al always had a new trick up his sleeve when he dusted off the mask to play again at your request. But the certainty of it was unwavering, and its inevitability brought as much comfort as any soft kiss or shared meal. It was part of the routine just like everything else, and it fit perfectly, the different parts of your life slotting together like cogs and gears to make a whole mechanism; a well-oiled machine whose components thrummed along synchronously. Perpetual and unstoppable. It was atypical, but it worked. If it worked, then it couldn’t all be wrong. If it worked, there was hope.

But would Max’s presence change that? It could be a disaster, a spoke in the wheel that derailed everything. So many ways for it to go wrong, for the carefully crafted thing you and Al had created to be dismantled and broken, revealing the sins and secrets hidden beneath the surface. One crack of the perfectly polished exterior could cause all sorts of things to come tumbling out. But your days of happy domesticity with Al had kept alive the optimist within you- and you wished more than anything for things to go smoothly, and maybe even get better. Though better than perfect felt a little far fetched. But, you would have to suffer another day of uncertainty. Not knowing was agony. Like a serpent slithering through your gut, weaving its way across your chest and constricting around your heart. It would depend on Max’s reaction whether it would release its hold or choke you completely.

All this zipped through your mind during the short trip from the bedroom to the kitchen. Shuffling into the room, you were stunned to see the clock on the wall stuck with its little dial stretching up towards the XII, the minute hand not far behind. Several incredulous blinks didn’t change the time on the canary yellow clock face, and a cursory glance to the clock on the wall in the living room confirmed it really was almost midday. You let out a stunned exhale- last night must have really taken its toll on you, body and mind, for you to have slept more than 12 hours. At least there was less of the day stretching out in front of you now. Less time to fret, you mused.

Putting on a fresh pot of coffee to brew, you rested with your back against the counter, trying to let the hum of the coffee maker silence your still-intruding thoughts. Your eyes lazily perused the kitchen, when an unfamiliar flash of white made them dart to the breakfast bar. The usually empty vase had been filled with a cluster of Sweet Alyssum blooms, a small folded note propped against it.

I’ll try get home early tonight little dove. Don’t worry, it will all be peachy. Max is gonna adore you!

Al x

P.S. –OJ and fresh milk in the fridge.

A blithe smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you read the note before slipping it into a back pocket of your shorts. Al’s kind reassurances managed to linger long after he had gone. Yes, things would be peachy, you inwardly agreed, smirking at the playful words he’d purposefully used. The lies you would tell would be worth it, the momentary pain only fleeting, and worth the payoff of a reconnection in Al’s life. And for your troubles, he would chase away that bitterness later, with tender caresses and sweet nothings. He would banish the pain. He always did.

After eating and clearing away breakfast (or, more accurately, lunch), there seemed so little to do around the house. The shag carpets were recently vacuumed, the windows streak-free. Hell, even the oven and stove top were polished to a reflective shine. You cursed Al for being neat as a pin, the house clean and tidy from his ingrained, meticulous habits. Your plan to lose yourself in playing housemaid wasn’t going to while away nearly enough hours. Only so many times you could dust the figurines on the mantelpiece, rearrange Al’s records into a perfectly curated catalog, fluff up the couch pillows. You were too distracted to read and not tired enough to nap. You even considered giving yourself a little self-care. Touching yourself might relieve some pent-up tension, and while away a little time. But you knew you were too busy fretting to feel even a little bit aroused, so decided against it.

Why were you so nervous? Al had reassured you as much as he humanly could last night, barely leaving your side as you came to terms with the lies you were weaving. That was the crux of the matter, you supposed. The lies. You didn’t lie. You were an honest person who wore your heart on your sleeve. Even for Al, from the very beginning, you’d shown nothing but honesty. You’d told him your name out of fear, and out of anger had told The Grabber he was a piece of shit for the crimes he’d committed. You weren’t sure what emotion made you tell him about your friends and family with surprising candor. But you had always clung to the truth. From the time between viewing him as that sadistic monster, to later down the line when you had blurred that image in favor of focusing your eyes on Al Shaw, an ordinary man. The both of you slowly dismantling the wall between you, brick by brick with each visit, each conversation, each meal and gesture and touch. Jesus, even when Al had first taken your body, you didn’t lie and said that you’d hated it, even if you should have. You should have spat in his face and told him what a monster he was. But that would have been a lie, so you told him the truth about how he made your body tremble at his touch. At that seminal moment, who was it you told those truths to- Al, or the Grabber? Because they were different. They had to be. If you told yourself that, it must be the truth. Because you were an honest person- except this one occasion, when circumstances forced your hand.

You switched on the TV for some background noise, hoping for a distraction to muffle these thoughts. Thinking certainly wasn’t going to ease your worry anytime soon. When the TV hummed to life, the saturated picture of the sitcom with its stilted laughing track accompanying it, you groaned. Of-fucking-course. Three’s Company. What other program could possibly be showing right now? It all felt strangely prophetic. Still, as you sunk into the couch, you secretly hoped things would be like they were on the TV screen in front of you: lighthearted and lively. Max sounded like a good person, and he wanted to come visit, even stay a little while. Maybe after the initial dread, things would really be ok after all. That didn’t stop your worry completely, and you spent the rest of the afternoon trying to imagine your life as a character on a TV sitcom, without the notion of worry or dread inside of you. Your mind tried its best, but it didn’t stop you wearing down a section of the shag carpet with your nervous tapping foot, or save your fingernails from being bitten down until nearly bloody.

Just as promised, Al came home earlier than usual. As he stepped through the door, you glanced up towards him. Your usual greeting of running into his arms had been abandoned, and you stayed rooted to your seat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. An understanding, sympathetic look appeared on his face and in two long strides he was sitting on the couch beside, pulling you into his arms.

“How was your day, little dove?”

“Oh, perfect, Al. Reeeeal fuckin’ swell.” you crooned. Even with the acerbic tone, your sarcastic comment was a deflection and the tears soon followed. As Al brought your head into his chest, you weren’t sure whether the sound you made was a sob or an incredulous laugh. Still, your arms circled around him instinctively.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Al said, still holding you close to him. His hand held steady at the nape of your neck as he applied small, comforting kisses to the top of your head.

“It’s not-” the words ‘your fault’ didn’t quite form themselves on your tongue- because, in a roundabout way- it was. You knew it, he knew it. It was Al’s actions that had led to this. But the last thing you wanted was to place direct blame. Al was worried and tense too, you could sense that easily enough- and you weren’t about to guilt trip him. Everything was shared now, even this burden. “It’s ok, Al. Your note helped a lot.”

“It’s true, what I wrote. Who’s not gonna love you?” he hummed. You still had a painful uncertainty juddering in your body, but Al’s presence, his calm, made you feel better than you had all day, even if tears were streaking down your cheeks right now. If his brother was anywhere near as understanding and kind, maybe it would be ok. You both sat there in silence for a while, Al’s arm hooked around your waist and a hand clasped in yours. So quiet you could hear the low buzz of the refrigerator running from the next room. Both savoring your final moments (for a little while at least) where it would just be the two of you.

— — — — — —

As peaceful as yours and Al’s expectant, silent waiting was, the first moments of Max’s appearance were in stark contrast, marked by a ruckus of shouts and knocks, clatterings and barks. Like a sudden rumble of thunder ripping through a serene summer sky. A hammering on the front door seemed to put even Al on edge, and you watched from the safety of the couch as he opened the door to the new guest. The door swung inwards and Al stumbled back several steps in (perhaps horrified) surprise as Max lumbered in with suitcases, bags, and a huge black dog in tow. Make that new guests, plural.

“AL!” the slightly shorter, wiry man boomed, dropping his bags with a heavy thud at his feet and throwing his arms around his brother with gusto. Al, though shocked and obviously less enthusiastic, returned the hug with a quiet ‘hey Max’, though his eyes darted around his legs, where the dog was sniffing ardently at his scent. Breaking the hug, Al began to gesture towards you, attempting to introduce you as you rose gingerly from the couch.

“Max, this is-”

“I hope you don’t mind about Samson? Listen, I know I didn’t tell you, but I thought you might say no if asked to bring the dog, and hey- better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? So-”

“Max.” Al said, a little more sternly now. His big brother mode worked, and Max actually ceased his mile-a-minute rambling. Al continued, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

“Oh, shit- I mean- jeez, of course!” Max lurched towards you, tripping over a bag but managing to catch himself before falling headlong into you. Righting himself, he stopped for a brief second, his head tilted and his deep brown eyes seeming to twitch in recognition of something, but the lapse in fervor passed as quickly as it began. Max ignored your outstretched hand, bringing you in for a hug just as eager as the one given to Al a moment ago.

“I-it’s a pleasure, Max.” you wheezed, a little breathless from the tight embrace. Max released you and stood back with a grin as you felt a warm breath at your knuckles where the dog also seemed to have taken a liking to you.

“This is great, really, just great.” Max smiled from ear to ear, his straight white teeth gleaming beneath his dark mustache as his head pivoted from side to side, trying to simultaneously catch up with his brother and find out everything about you. In the first five minutes of his arrival he said more than Al usually might have said in a couple days. The wry smile he gave as he babbled was probably because he noticed the very obvious age gap between his brother and you, his eyes volleying between you both, though he didn’t say anything on this topic. Maybe he was more tactful than you had anticipated; a good sign for when you’d eventually need to tell him about the delicate situation into which he’d entered.

The younger Shaw brother spoke so differently compared to Al. Whereas Al spoke in those low, velvety tones, Max tripped over his words, flitting between bursts of non-stop rambling and pausing in places to find his footing, his train of thought having derailed a sentence or two back. His gestures were wildly frantic too- and though Al had a flair for the dramatic, he was usually fairly relaxed, but Max had none of the same cool composure. It was endearing, how earnest and guileless he was, though you had to wonder- if this was Max NOT on drugs… Even if his speech and body language was erratic, the dark pools of his chocolate-colored eyes and his small, dimpled smile were genuine and warm, exuding an almost child-like innocence about him.

Somewhat sidetracked by these observations, you hadn’t realized that at some point Max had actually ceased talking, and was now looking straight at you, wide-eyed and stock-still. It took another moment before you realized that Max had repeated your name. Your full name. You hadn’t told him your full name. Panic gripped your body, your blood freezing in your veins. The only movement you could manage was darting your eyes desperately towards Al, who was already stomping over to his brother. Seeing you, he gave a resolute nod.

“You’re missing. I mean, obviously you’re not if you’re here. But it IS you, right? I saw your picture on the news-”

Grabbing the back collar of Max’s garish Hawaiian shirt, Al yanked him a little to the side, depositing him roughly onto the armchair in one swift motion. Standing in front of his brother, arms crossed and looming over the smaller man, Al blocked the line of sight towards you.

“Alright Max, Y/N is going to tell you something important. This isn’t easy for her, ok, so will you pay attention? You’re NOT going to make her repeat it. So listen. Up.” Max seemed on the cusp of saying something, but the warning look from his brother was enough for him to clamp his mouth closed, and nod promptly. It seemed Al's dominant, persuasive nature extended farther than just you. Al turned, grasping your hand firmly in his before pulling you to sit next to him on the couch. Max’s face, displaying a look somewhere between concern and utter confusion (not to mention the fact that he was basically a stranger) had your stomach roiling, and you felt a fresh layer of tears forming a wet film over your eyes. But glancing to your side, Al gave you that soft, reassuring smile, his eyes crinkling at the temples. His firm hands, one clasping yours, the other on your knee to stem the jitters, provided you with a fresh wave of courage that lapped in your chest. Steadying, calming currents. You swallowed down the fear, licked your dry lips, and took a deep breath.

It was a well-rehearsed speech, but the familiar soliloquy didn’t feel any less unpleasant on your tongue. You supposed one good thing about the real tears that slid down your reddened cheeks was that they made the lies all the more believable. The words were false, but the agony was real. Finishing your story through hiccupped, staccato sobs, Al thumbed away a teardrop on your cheek, and you both looked towards the younger Shaw brother for a response. The hushed air between you was palpable until he finally broke his silence.

“Woah.” Max reclined on the armchair, huffing out a long, dramatic sigh. He rubbed the back of his already-tousled black hair with a hand; a little awkward, as if trying to find the right words. You could almost hear the gears spinning in his mind, trying to unpack the baggage you’d just heaved on him. “That was…heavy. I mean- shit,” He tripped over his own tongue, but his eyes didn’t break from yours. “So, that was a one time deal then? Like, we’re just gonna move on?”

“That was the deal Max.” Al stated plainly.

“Ok, sure- I mean, you got dealt a shitty hand and that sucks, but everything's ok now, right, Y/N?”

“I- yeah. Everything's great.” you said on a relieved sigh, a little incredulous that he didn’t have any follow up questions.

“Awesome! Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, I do have one important question.” There it was. You knew it was too good to be true. Was he going to ask about your supposedly awful childhood, when one more lie might cause you to snap, like a tightly-strung wire ready to snap? Or was he, God forbid, going to connect the dots between your disappearance and The Grabber? You squeezed Al’s hand until your knuckles were white, anticipating the worst as Max asked the question.

“Are we getting takeout for dinner? Cause I would literally kill for some Chinese food right about now.”

If someone had been listening in on the conversation, they might have thought Max a little obtuse, so blunt in his decision as to be rude. But the look in his eye was knowing and intense. And he’d spoken as if he knew how it felt to not want to dredge up the past. It seemed that Max had a different side to him, hidden beneath the wacky, extroverted exterior. Not quite the dark side that Al possessed, but a sympathetic part of him that knew pain. No-one but Al had ever melted away your worries quite so quickly and decisively as Max had just now. It was a Shaw thing, you joked inwardly.

As Max made himself comfy in the spare room, unpacking bags and fixing up a place for Samson to sleep, Al pulled you into his lap, hugging you more tightly than even his brother had, which was a feat in itself.

“You did so good, Y/N. You’re amazing, you know that?” he said through the kisses plied on your cheekbones and jaw.

“So is Max. He just got it. You too, Al. I don’t think I could’ve said all that without you there.”

“It was all you, dove. You-”

You leaned in to kiss Al hard on his lips. Sometimes his self-deprecation just needed to be put on mute.

The rest of the night felt so comfortable, so relaxed as if Max had always been a permanent fixture in the house. If Max was still curious about your past, it didn’t show on his sunny grin. Though it was easy to forget about yourself for a while with his endless chatter, like his own stream of consciousness had been unbottled every time he opened his mouth. What he’d been up to the last few months, the endless spate of jobs he’d tried his hand at, different places he’d stayed and people he’d come across. It seemed he never stayed pinned down for too long, drifting from place to place without any real purpose. You felt a twinge of pity for him, who you guessed might have been lonely as Al once was. But Max’s enthusiasm and rampant optimism had rubbed off on you. Hopefully, this could be a fresh new start for him, you mused. He was clean now, and had his brother (and you!) nearby. Maybe Max could lay down roots back here in Denver. Al wanted the same- you could read it on those small nuanced expressions you’d come to learn so well. You had thought things getting better seemed a far-fetched notion, but ‘better than perfect’ suddenly felt like an attainable path ahead of you. You’d help make it happen.

For now, though, you felt it important for Al and Max to reconnect without you. Plus, if Max had any burning questions, it was no longer your responsibility to dig into that pain- Al would see to it that they would be kept at bay. Feigning tiredness, you gave Samson a scratch behind the ears, peppered a small kiss on Al’s cheek and said goodnight to Max, who jumped up for another one of his now-familiar hugs before you left the Shaw brothers to their conversations.

— — — — — —

As his dove said her goodnights and the door to the master bedroom clicked shut, Al looked expectantly over to his brother. Surprisingly, Max hadn’t pounced or blurted out some gauche comment, but the smug look and slow shake of his head meant Max definitely wanted the details, as if Al had been hiding Y/N away from him. Which, to be fair, Al reflected, wouldn’t be a complete lie. He wasn’t forthcoming with the discussion, instead choosing to eye his little brother as if daring him to start. Max was more than happy to take Al up on his challenge, leaning in with his elbows resting on his knees. Hunched forward and hungry for details he obviously craved, but was too afraid to ask in front of Y/N.

“So, come on man, spill. I wanna know everything.”

“Were you even listening? We won’t be going over it-”

“No no no, dude. I wanna know about- you know…” Max left a pause, which Al did not furnish with a response. “You and her. She’s awesome. Where the hell didya snatch her up?”

Al obviously wasn’t about to openly admit he actually had snatched his little bird off the streets- ‘Yeah Max, I bungled her into my van and kept her in my basement until we fell madly in love’- though he thought Max would actually find that ‘joke’ pretty funny. He opted to answer his question with one of his own:

“What, I can’t just meet someone nice?”

Max snorted. “Seriously, Al, come on. Where’d you meet her? She doesn’t seem…your type?” Al supposed Max changed his comment to a question to sound a little less stinging. A raised eyebrow at the question had Max backpedaling, changing tact and instead asking if Y/N had been living with him for long.

“I guess since we first met, pretty much. It was a little rocky at the start, but things are good now.” He wasn’t lying, per se, and though he wasn’t proud of the way he’d twisted his words, it was nice to talk to his brother about his relationship. Someone who (although not privy to the entire truth), had accepted the parts of Al and his little dove’s story they had shared, had met it with a seeming strong comprehension and firm acceptance.

“Glad to hear it man, I mean, fuck, that wasn’t easy for her. I get not wanting to talk about that shit. But it’s not like it didn’t sound a little familiar right?” Al winced slightly at the statement flung around so casually by his little brother, but he was grateful for the general sentiment. He had worried about leaving his little thing with Max, but felt a little easier about that necessity after their discussion.

Al moved the conversation swiftly on when Max started asking about putting a ring on it (which was skating just a little too close to dangerous territory, given that Al had already traded rings with his dove as a promise for all sorts of things he was NOT going to discuss with anyone else, ever). Instead, they chatted a while about Max’s plans while in Denver, with Al agreeing to help him find his footing as best he could. He was his big brother, after all, and had to look out for Max. Al had feared this rekindling with his brother would be awkward and stilted, but it felt natural, familial to Al in a way it never had before. So strange and foreign in how normal it all seemed. Well, almost normal.

Al had surprised even himself when he admitted his feelings about her to Max, actually saying the words “I love her”. He hadn’t shied away, but had actually beamed at his affirmation. Max had beamed right back, his infectious smile reminding Al of that buck toothed grin he always had plastered on his face as a young kid. His little brother had said Al had never seemed so happy- because he never had been before. It had worked out, after all the doubts and misgivings, it was going to be ok. More than ok, he asserted. Just peachy. The house, which had housed so much death and decay, had suddenly come to life once more, warm and loud and full.

With Max finally heading to bed and Samson curling up on his bed in the corner, Al made his way with purpose to the master suite. She’d done so well, his sweet little thing. Had made the most sacrifice and risk to allow this to happen. Al hadn’t wanted to put her through any more torment after the things he’d done, but she’d done them anyway, for him. It was only fair that he returned the favor. After all, good girls deserved rewards.

#the black phone #black phone #the black phone fanfic #the grabber x you #the grabber x reader #the grabber #grabber x you #grabber x reader #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x reader

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beehindblueeyes · 1 year

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Fandomization: Revisited

I have a post I made a while ago that was really more of a warning if anything. It was a pattern I was noticing begin to grow within the fandom and how issues are really just a flat circle. It effects all over time and it’s especially prevalent in horror fandoms? I don’t quite understand past the reductionist “horror is where the horny is kept”. It’s more than that but it’s a thing here as well. However I don’t want to completely repeat the same thing I had in my prior post, I’m going to include a update on that part and address some further things etc etc etc. Strap in.

* Disclaimer: I am going to be talking about things I have personally obsessed and am not a fan of. This however does not mean you personally cannot enjoy it or should stop making it. Don’t let me tell you what to do but also don’t ride me off as a “hater” or attacker. Hear me out, if you don’t like my gripes that’s perfectly fine just don’t take it out on me.

Donna, Bev and victims of one ship rules all-

I talked about this in the last post but all fandoms start out sort of equal. A barrage of fics, fanart and discussions for everything and everyone but over time they sort of dilute into just shipping and one ship. You have to go digging in the mines if you want to find another ship god forbid anything else! This isn’t to say “ship popular so ship bad” but more—- if that’s all there is it loses what it had. Usually it’s a gay ship and 9/10 the female character of the movie suffers for it.

Donna in particular has gotten so much shit from Rinney shippers and just fans in general. A lot of the bargain bin “she’s getting in the way” “why does she exist” etc. However it’s gone beyond this into hate pages and vile comments against her actress online and it’s sick? People harassing a child over a movie character and ships— have you no decorm? Less extreme is that content about her or ships involving her or anyone else go virtually ignored. I know for a fact if this post had used Robin instead of Donna there’d be at least 100 likes. I’m not saying this because I think my post “deserves” a bunch of likes but because I know if I Used Robin half of you would eat it up. It’s that “if it’s not gay it’s icky” metality in young fans that can lead to some weird places as you grow.

Bev has a similar treatment. Where she’s just straight up ignored or used as a straw,man because she gets in the way of this and that or she’s reduced to “richies best friend who he smokes with sometimes” instead of her own character. I don’t know if her actress recieved the same level of hate campaign but I hope she didn’t. I really do.

One ship rules all hurts the ship itself-

If you haven’t caught on by now my arugement is for variety. It’s that more than one ship gets all the praise and love and admiration etc— hell it’s that we can get something that’s not a ship as well. This movie is about some pretty young kids and… idk. That’s not the point of this segment. I’ve talked before about fandomization and how characters get reduced to tropes, stereotypes and personal interest and might as well be ocs because they scarcely resemble the character past maybe their face. Its true and it’s coming. Using the “one rules all” or Reddie and Rinney today.

Preface this with a bit of a bias on my end. I actually enjoy Reddie as a concept. Childhood crushes, meet again as adults with a ‘oh’ moment well after it’s to late? I eat that shit up. Rinney on the other hand? I can understand where it comes from but I just see more of “he’s my cool friend💕” because we really don’t let friendships between boys be intimate in the same way we do girls. (I Hope that makes sense)

Basically as the only content to come out from a fandom becomes a single ship the more divided and weird it gets, there’s the usual break off points and accepted headcannons. There gets to a point where the Fanon has Fanon and then people believe it to be cannon and get extremely upset when it’s pointed out to not be. A great example is again Eddie and Richie:

Meme from Pinterest . The “Bad boy X soft uwu boy” is the same thing that is happening to Robin and Finney and it’s a bit concerning. It’s very reductionist and is becoming a gay stereotype within itself? Which- idk when a lot of kids first experience to this sort of stuff is through fandom and this is the expectation? Idk — I’m going to stop talking about real life impact in this regard because I’m not qualified and it wasn’t originally my point, my point is a much more personal disappointment. As Fanon-Fanon characterization being all there is , is a little sad when they get so far removed from the characters we all love in the first place.

They are children I’m literally begging you-

So I’m a bit old™️, and when I was younger x reader wasn’t really a thing or it was all on wattpad which I didn’t touch(and still don’t) with a ten foot poll. But- I feel like there was more variety. It’s not my cup of tea and I’m not saying it’s not a ligitamte form of fanfiction but if that’s all their is… etc etc.

My concern lies in the fact that none of the main characters are over the age of 14 and there’s a x reader or god forbid smut , obsession with this movie. Griffin is 11 and Billy is 12 at the time of their deaths based on the missing posters and shipping them or with yourself—- it just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not saying there’s not teenager , survived AUs but I mean with characters as they are , or implied to be the same (even then aging up in this context implies you did it implicitly for romance purposes which is still,,,)

They’re literal children and I guess that’s why the boundless shipping really surprises me, that and they’re always acting way way older than they are. Like where’s my friends fics or stupid ass crushes and weird behavior? Idk.

Also the actors are also children! They’re reaching their teens now but that’s no fucking excuse for how creepy people are towards them. Getting fam and swarmed by fans starting at a young age cannot be good for mental health. I’ve already expressed this before but people are so fucking creepy about Miguel in particular finding family photos , private moments and texts and reposting them AND TAGGING HIM?? Etc. I think part of it is the adultification of Latino kids.

The kids from IT and stranger things experienced similar stalkerish behavior and really borderline sexual remarks since they were 12-13 and idk how they’re handling now but there has to be a fear that undermines every fan interaction. Esp because modern fans feel entitled to celebrities time and social life if Miguel is any test to that. Like there is a reason a lot of kid actors end up super fucked up in adult hood and it’s more than workplace abuse or parental control. With the new age and fan obsession… I’m worried things will get even worse and I hope they all make it through alright.

Apologist behavior-

Talked about this briefly again and again, I’ve kept quite and simple because I don’t want to be attacked but I’m going to say it all again here. I also want to establish I in no way encourage or condone people harassing and attacking them in the same way (Grabber x reader people) or worse. I keep hearing claims of death threats but none shown publicly- regardless don’t do that.

Anyways. “We changed him so he’s fine”. Why not any other Ethan Hawke character? I fully agree he is a fine ass man but of all of his characters the Pedo serial killer????? It’s been stated by at least two authors that “we like the grabber. Not his other characters but this is a different version” but if you like this character spesfically what is it that you like about him? His entire character is being a Killer who locks little boys in his basement to kill and …worse. What is it that you like? Ethan’s eyes? That’s all Ethan.

You can’t just pout and cross your arms and go “he likes grown women fuck you.” And expect people to just walk away? I’m sorry, no that’s not how it works. I’m genuinely curious because I just— it baffles me. And for the love of god stop using the slasher excuse he’s not a slasher he is a spree killer. He’s rooted in real life and real life serial killers not a big scary monster man. (I say this as someone who likes slashers and understands that sort of thing but there’s just a line when it comes to kids. It’s like dogs in movies).

I just- I want to know the psychology around this I guess? I don’t- I don’t know.

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jokeringcutio · 2 months

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The Grabber x Hufflepuff (f) Reader [1] (Explicit, warnings)

Because I noticed an astonishing amount of my Grabber readers have this one thing in common. It's the house. Hufflepuff. They all have Hufflepuff on their profiles. Summary: You're a Hufflepuff student and you get caught by the Dark Lord's infamous snatcher known as The Grabber.

Fandoms: The Black Phone, Harry Potter Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, clad touching, non/con or dub-con touching, Reader is a Hufflepuff, Reader is Innocent. Reader is a virgin, Reader is a Mudblood/Muggle-born, use of little witch/littlegirl/little one, Reader is of age, Grabber has an innocence corruption kink, Reader gets kidnapped. Harry Potter 2nd Wizard War AU.

Grabber x Hufflepuff [ 1 ]

The Room of Requirement shimmered with the focused intensity of young witches and wizards, secretly preparing for the fight against the Dark Lord and his followers. You were among them, your wand tracing arcs in the air as you practiced defensive spells like all others. Some students here were younger than you, some slightly older. But everyone was practicing with the same passion. The air was thick with concentration, punctuated by the occasional crackle of magic gone awry.

"Hey," Ginny's voice cut through the hum of activity, pulling you aside. She was in the same year as you, although you hadn’t truly talked until you joined Dumbledore’s Army. Her eyes held an edge of urgency. "I need you to fetch some Hellebore Herb from the Forbidden Forest."

You nodded, a quick, sharp motion. "I can do that," you murmured, feeling the weight of the task settle on your shoulders. Slipping out of the school was a grizzly task nowadays. Students weren’t allowed to leave as it was said to be too dangerous out there now that the Dark Lord had returned. But you knew danger lurked inside the walls of your school as much as it did outdoors. Most of the staff at Hogwarts was sympathizing with the pure-blood radicals. If one of them caught you sneaking out of the school, they’d be taking their time punishing you with heavy torture spells.

Luckily, you were quite skilled at being silent, always alert, and excellent at not being noticed. Ginny knew this. It was why she usually asked you or Clementine Felley, a Ravenclaw with similar skills but a year below you two, to do these sorts of assignments.

Because you’d been doing this for a while, you had grown confident in your skills. In the shadowy corner, you slipped into your school robe to protect yourself from the cold outside. You made sure to flip your hair from underneath it before donning the hood and hiding it again.

The yellow and black of Hufflepuff covered you, and you were glad you belonged to that house. Somehow, the yellow became just another shade when you were out in the dusk or dark, resembling green or brown and adapting to your surroundings. You ran your fingers over the emblem, feeling the rough embroidery against your skin, before you grasped a wicker basket, its weave tight and firm.

Creeping out of the Room of Requirement, you clutched the fabric of your robe close. The corridors loomed silent and watchful. You knew the stakes — capture meant punishment, Crucio, or worse if the Carrow siblings got their hands on you.

As the doors groaned closed behind you, you drew a deep breath. Every shadow could hold a spying eye, a guard, or an enchantment meant to betray your step. But like so many times before, you made it out of the school with practiced ease. The Forbidden Forest loomed, a dark maw ready to swallow you whole. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, but you pushed forward, feet whispering over fallen leaves and twigs.

Like you had hoped, nothing happened. You weren’t spotted. There was no alarm raised. And the deeper you got into the forest, the more at ease you started to feel. Not that there weren’t countless of dangers here, but with your wand and your knowledge of spells, you felt you could handle the forest’s creatures.

The underbrush crunched beneath your knees as you knelt, fingers sifting through the damp soil. You found the Hellebore — a sinister beauty with its deep green leaves and delicate blooms that belied the poison lurking within. Your breath came in careful puffs, visible in the twilight of the forest.

"Aren’t you a brave girl?" The voice was like gravel, grating against the hushed whispers of the trees. It struck a chord of fear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze lifted, heart beating high in your chest. There, a few feet away from you, a devil's mask leered down at you, eyes hollow pits of malice. You instantly recognized the foul creature from pictures in the newspaper. Moving images of the same mask, two hands raised next to it, showing the same rings you saw now glinting on his fingers in the light of the moon.

The Grabber.

His name slithered through your mind, conjuring images of snatched souls and vanished faces. His jacket hung open, revealing a swath of bare chest, skin pale in the moonlight, betraying he was just another man.

“What are you doing, lovely?” The voice was so deep and low that you felt it deep in your core. You squeezed your legs together uncomfortably, hoping the man didn’t notice the gesture, as you slowly rose from your knees.

Even standing, the man was at least a head taller than you. If not more.

“Well?” He tilted his head, the mask mocking you as it slanted.

"Collecting herbs," you managed, voice a mere wisp of sound. You tucked the Hellebore behind your back discreetly.

"Oh,” the man made a mocking sound that was almost called gentle. “Sweet thing, aren't you? Voice like honey." The Grabber cocked his mask, angling it in such a way that his eyes could trace you up and down. You could feel it, felt his gaze as it roamed over every inch of your body. It felt intimate, the way he studied you.

He stepped closer, the scent of earth and something darker emanating from him.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell the big bad man what kind of herbs you are collecting out here, on your own, at the cusp of midnight?”

You knew he had you there. No student was allowed in this part of the forest or indeed allowed to roam outside at night. In fact, no students were allowed out at all. And by your robes, he could easily tell you were still a student, that you belonged to the school nearby.

A man like him, working for the Dark Lord himself, would not let you go unpunished. He would either hand you back to the school, or he would dish out the punishment himself. But with his reputation for being a man who tortured his victims and made innocent people disappear, you had a feeling which one it would be. The others wouldn't get their herbs today. You had failed them. For a short moment, you wished one of the Carrow siblings had caught you on your way out instead.

“I-I will,” why was your voice trembling? Why did you stutter? Were you truly this scared of the legendary snatcher who was said to be more demon than man?

“Very cute all the stumbling,” the man interrupted you. “I don’t care what you came here to collect. All I care about is that you are being naughty. Being out here, on your own, late at night. There are all sorts of bad men prowling about. Hadn’t you noticed?”

You blinked, clearly confused by his words because he obviously was one of these bad men himself. Why else would he trod around wearing a demon’s mask, bare-chested, in the middle of the night? He was out here, hunting.

Did that mean that others were nearby? That you somehow had been unlucky enough to cross paths with the ones he was chasing. People the Dark Lord wanted to see dead.

“I-I am s-so sorry. The H-herb I needed only grows at night and I thought-" you lied.

“Hellebore Herb,” he interrupted, cutting you short yet again. Of course, he must have caught sight of it. You nodded, realizing that although you had been trying to hide it behind your back, there was some more Hellebore near your feet. It would have been an easy guess.

"Well, well” he muttered, and you watched as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. The way his jacket swayed about revealed a hairless stomach with trained abbs, slightly pudgy but you supposed that came with age.

“Are you a full or half-blood?"

Huh? It was a sensitive question, but you could guess why he would ask it. The Dark Lord wasn’t keen on anyone not considered pure. You could lie to him. You knew you should. But something about the glint behind the dark holes of eyes in the mask told you he already knew the answer.

"Neither,” you reluctantly admitted, hanging your head in defeat. The herb dropped from your hands, fingers outstretched behind your back. “Muggle-born," a reluctant whisper and most definitely a death sentence. To lie was folly; he would know. To think all your bravery and good intentions would end here, tonight. That your defiance would be squashed down by one man and an unlucky encounter. Fear danced along your nerves, yet you forced stillness upon your frame.

"Charming," he murmured, surprising you as he closed the gap between you. The brush of his fingertips against your hair sent an unwanted tingle down your neck. "I would love to take you home."

You stiffened, the words wrapping around you like chains. There was no mistaking the implication, the threat veiled as a compliment. He wanted to snatch you the way he had done so many others. But there was something else underneath, something thick with arousal.

His presence loomed, a specter of dread. His breath grazed your cheek, slipping out from underneath the mask as he studied you with a sidelong glance. You let him touch your hair, let him believe he held sway. Inside, your thoughts raced — plans, strategies, hopes all tangled in a desperate knot.

"Would anyone miss a sweet little muggle-born witch?" he cooed, playing with a lock of your hair. His closeness disgusted you, but you tried to use it to fool him. Your hand slipped into your robe, ever so carefully, and searched for your wand, mentally preparing to knock him back with a spell.

"Everyone is missed by someone," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

"Ah, but will they look for you?" The Grabber's tone was a taunt, a predator enjoying the quiver of his prey.

They would. They had to. Ginny and the others would notice if you didn’t come and deliver the herb. They would alarm the others, start a search for you, make sure your parents were informed. And then, the true search would start. No matter how influential the Dark Lord was, he couldn’t stop your loved ones from searching for you. They would, you just knew it. You were loved. You clutched your wand in your fist, preparing to attack.

"Let's find out," the moment the whisper reached your ears, his hand left your hair. You felt how his hand slipped into yours, disarming you by taking your wand. How had he known that you'd reached for it? That you held it? "You don't need that, little girl. Wands are for grown-ups," he teased, voice sing-song. And you silently fumed because you were an adult. Even if it hadn't been for that long. How belittling the man sounded, how he seemed to take pleasure in making you feel small. Then, his mask came closer again, forcing you to lean a little more backward.

"Run, little girl," the Grabber hissed, and without a second thought, you spun on your heels and you ran. With a twist of your body, you broke free from his grasp, feet pounding against the forest floor as you sprinted toward safety.

You could hear him, the laughter that bubbled up from his throat, rich and deep and terrifying.

"Run, little witch, run," he taunted, delight evident in each syllable. "I do so love a chase."

Branches whipped against your face, leaving hot, stinging trails in their wake. Your lungs burned with exertion, the distance between you and the safety of the school shrinking with every desperate stride.

You could reach it, you had to. At this point you didn’t even care if any of the guards spotted you and if they crucioed you until you wished you had never been born. Anything was better than this. Anyone was better than this man. This demon who you’d read about.

Kidnapping. Torture. Unethical spells.

If he got you, you’d never see the light of day again. You’d be done for. You'd die a horrid death.

The outline of the school loomed into view. Just a little further. You pushed yourself beyond your limits, limbs stretching, going faster than you ever had, before your freedom was snatched away. An arm snaked around your waist, making you tumble. His hands clamped over your mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape. Together, you crashed into the underbrush, his chest, a wall of heat and hardness, pressed against your back. The scent of him enveloped you—earth and sweat and something darker, unnamable.

You fought to breathe, feeling the strain of his fingers against your lips, pushing tightly so they couldn’t even part. You tried to wiggle out of his grip but he only tightened it, hissing in your ear as something hard poked against your butt and you instantly came to a still, eyes wide open. That wasn’t…?

"Shhh," he hissed as a guard's lantern light flickered in the distance. "Not a sound."

You had no choice but to wait in his embrace, feeling his chest heave rapidly up and down behind you. His palm warm against your lips, his heart hammering against your spine. Sweat from his naked chest brushed against your robe.

The moment stretched, an eternity wrapped in seconds, until silence returned and the light of the lantern disappeared into the dimness of the night. Then he rose, pulling you with him, his grip ironclad and unyielding.

"Be silent. Don't make this difficult," he commanded, his hand was upon your arm, gripping you tight, as a wand was raised by the other. It took less than a second for you to realize what was about to happen, but you didn’t have time to counter his spell or try and get away.

You knew what came next—the sensation of being squeezed through an impossibly tiny space, the world blurring into darkness. Apparition. A forced journey to an unknown hell.

You now stood somewhere else, in someone’s living room by the sights of it, too busy taking in your surroundings to stop how the Grabber replaced his hand from your arm to your neck. The squeeze was painful, bringing tears to your eyes, and your hands darted up to try and alleviate his grip. But to no avail.

The man forced you to walk from the living room to the kitchen. Standing in front of a white door, you couldn’t distinguish the soft muttered words that were muffled by the mask, but it was clear he was using some kind of magic to unlock and open it.

A deep and dark room appeared, a staircase leading down to it. Like a basement full of concrete. Then he pushed you through the door.

The grip he had on your neck was firm enough that it became difficult to breathe, as he guided you down the stairs and into what seemed to be a grey and mostly empty room.

The basement was a tomb of dampness and decay. You were thrown onto a mattress that reeked of rot, each spring groaning in protest. He loomed over you, a shadow stripped of humanity.

"Let me have a look at you," he demanded, settling before you and reaching out without expecting an answer.

You felt like a trapped animal and tried to crawl away, but your robes obstructed your movements. And where would you go? There was only a wall behind you, the grey concrete looked chipped and filthy, but also sturdy. You’d need your wand to get out of here.

The man’s hands were already untying your robe, pushing the cloak aside at both sides. Fear twisted inside you, a serpent coiling tighter with every passing second. Veins were visible on the male’s hands. He must be an older man, you thought. And strong.

You tried to struggle and pushed your hands against his arms in an attempt to stop him. But he only stopped his movements to shush you, angling his mask your way before his hands slid past the fabric of your clothes once more.

"Yellow and black," he mused, fingering the edge of your school robe with a touch that was both reverent and mocking. "I always had a thing for Hufflepuffs... loyal, kind, innocent. Wouldn't harm a fly." His voice dripped with sarcasm even as his fingers delicately parted the fabric to reveal your uniform beneath.

You held your breath, trying to shrink away from his probing gaze, but here there was no safety for you. He leaned in closer, heat radiating from his body as you deliberately tried not to look at the bulge he was sporting in his pants. "But innocence is often just a facade... physically they are pure. But mentally," here he chuckled.

"Please..." The word escaped your lips as a whisper, a feeble attempt to preserve some dignity.

A low growl rumbled from the depths of his chest and his nails pressed into your skin as his grip on you became more bold. “I like it when you beg. Makes you look cute, honey.”

You whimpered sadly, realizing that begging wasn’t going to save your life.

"Quiet now," he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. "You won’t need this."

The robe was pushed down your shoulders without a fight.

"Shh," he hushed you, his fingers sliding up the sensitive flesh of your bare thigh, just above your stockings, causing an involuntary flinch.

His coarse fingertips traced dangerously close to your skirt now. You couldn’t help it. You weren’t a fighter like the Slytherins or Gryffindors were, but you had your boundaries. With a sharp movement, you brought your elbows down to harm the man, but the Grabber was quicker. He caught your wrists with just one hand. A sad realization that his hands were large and strong enough to subdue you. You wiggled ineffectively, feeling the grip around both your wrists tighten.

"Cute," he chuckled darkly, taking pleasure in the shiver that coursed through you.

"See," he breathed out, his hand venturing beneath the pleated skirt, touching you where no one had ever touched before. "You are going to love this." His words were poison, staining the rawness of the moment with vile certainty.

"Stop," you tried to command, but it came out as a whimper, your own body betraying you under his invasive touch.

His fingertips stroked past your covered folds, the crotch of your panties dampening with each intimidating stroke. The pressure was just right, pressing down tightly enough to stimulate your clit through the soft cotton layer until he had you squirming. Soft mewls escaped your lips instead of pleas while he still held your wrists up with one hand, making it impossible for you to fight him off or crawl away from his touch.

"Ah, there it is," he whispered triumphantly as his finger traced over your damp core. "Your mind's as filthy as they come, little witch."

Panic clawed at your insides, yet amidst the terror, a spark of rage ignited. You hated him, hated his touch, his violation of all you held sacred. You loathed the way he made you feel; exposed, vulnerable, and worst of all, responding despite yourself.

"Doesn't this prove your point?" you spat out with venomous defiance, despising the trembling of your own voice. You were wet, you could hear it now. You felt your nipples peak underneath the fabric of your blouse, their tips pressing through the layers of clothes you were still wearing. But you had no doubt he had caught sight of it.

“Who said I wanted to prove anything?”

For a moment the two of you sat in complete silence while his fingers still rubbed your clothed core. Slick sounds emerged from between your legs while the Grabber stared at you. Was he waiting for an answer?

You tried to control your breathing, thankful when he finally lowered his other hand and with it your wrists. Your arms were starting to feel sore. Yet, that didn’t distract you from the warmth that was slowly building up inside your core. A tight coil was inside your tummy, your legs started to tremble. Whatever function your panties were supposed to have was rendered nihil as he flicked and fondled your clit through the now-soaked-through piece of garment. The fabric clung to your folds, making it easier for him to brush his fingers and the cloth deeper inside, even being as bold as to try and dip a fingertip in until you moaned and thrashed against him.

You turned your head aside, unable to look at him and his devilish mask as an orgasm was rapidly approaching. Your body trembled under his touch as the finger pushed against your entrance once, twice. And then suddenly withdrew.

Shaking, you sat there, blinking confused before you turned your head to face him. Your body felt hot, between your legs, it was burning with desire. The orgasm was so near that you could feel the first tremors already racking through your body. But he had stopped on the cusp of it, withdrawn as a form of pure torture. Leaving you undone, a trembling and whimpering mess on the dirty pale mattress.

You looked up at him, cheeks red and eyes full of arousal. Even forgetting to lower your arms now that his hold on you was gone. Not that you wanted him to have sex with you, but you were the epitome of a woman on the cusp of ecstasy - eager to have your bodily desire fulfilled. You wanted to feel good. Your mind was now conflicted, torn between wanting him to finish and wanting him far away. You looked at him, flushed, eyes begging him to finish what he started. No wonder a low groan escaped him while he squeezed the bulge in his pants as he rose to stand tall again.

“So innocent,” was all he announced before trying to run a hand through his shoulder-length hair. It must be a habit, you realized, mind still hazy with lust, because the movement had no purpose. The man’s mask was clasped behind his head with several bands. His fingers couldn’t properly run through his hair, and he had to halt his movement and lower his arm again.

You smirked up at him, as if you’d just found out a secret about him.

If you could undo those clasps, you could see his face. If you could escape, you could pass that information to the others. He’d finally be an easy prey.

A sudden movement shook you out of your thoughts when he suddenly dipped his hand inside the pocket of his own jacket. Your wand slid out, the hand in which he held it still glistening in the dark from your juices.

"M-My wand," you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips.

"Shhh, little Hufflepuff," he cooed mockingly before holding your wand up high, seemingly to study it.

And you finally propelled into action. Your wand was an extension of yourself, of your magic, and it shouldn't be in his possession. You scrambled onto your hands and knees in an attempt to jump up and snatch the wand out of his hands, even if he was that much larger and even if you probably couldn’t reach it when you jumped anyway. But you had to try it. You had to get it back.

Your wand was the only thing that could get you out safely.

The Grabber seemed to have predicated your move. It only needed a whisper of his lips, and you sat frozen.

“It works well,” he muttered, words muffled by the mask. And you had no choice but to watch as he lowered his arm. Your breath caught as his fingers, rough and calloused from years of unforgiving work, slipped into the pocket of his dark robes, taking with them your wand—your lifeline.

He patted the pocket of his jacket as if to taunt you, the jacket smacking against his hip as it still hung open to reveal his naked chest. You could see his belly roll with each deep breath taken. He was still aroused, taking delight in playing these games with you.

A whimper escaped your lips, unbidden, raw with the fear of helplessness.

"Isn't that just adorable," the Grabber mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the cavernous basement. You watched, heart pounding, as he prepared to leave, the satisfaction in his stride unmistakable. "Don't worry, pet. You won’t be needing that while you’re here."

You watched him as he made his way to the door. If only he hadn’t put that spell on you and you could still move… But as it was, all you could do was sit and watch as he carried your only hope for survival with him.

“I think I’ll just add your name to the list of deaths," the low husky murmur of the Grabber surprised you. It came unasked, just another way he was mentally manipulating you, you guessed. "No one’s gonna ask for you. But you know, future reference. In case anyone decides to start prowling,” he paused, turning his mask to face you from over his shoulder. “It'll just be another whoops. My hand slipped. Killed a pretty little girl out in the forest. Mud-blood witch. I had my orders.”

Anger raged inside of you, boiling under the frozen surface. You wished you could grit your teeth, curl your hands into fists, growl even. But you could do nothing.

He'd report you as another casualty, another life claimed by the darkness he served.

"It’s a cheap trick, but it works every time," he said casually. "Mostly had boys before you. This will be new." The implication hung heavy in the stale air, a sentence without an end, and it was suffocating.

Why? You wondered. Why not just kill them? Why take them home?

The Grabber paused, the mask changed direction until it almost looked like the demon grinned. "I like to play a game. Only with the cute ones though.”

Panic seized you and you felt like you suddenly couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t just read your mind, had he? Merlin, please don’t let him be a Legilimens.

The Grabber fully turned back to you, the demonic mask’s expression seemed to have changed. But surely, that must be your imagination. Or had he cast a spell on it?

“Want to know what it’s called?” he taunted. And you thought. No. No, I don’t want to know what the game is called.

But instantly after, a different voice inside your head said otherwise. What game did he play with his victims, you wondered?

You almost heard the smirk that was hidden underneath the mask. “Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, confirming your fear that he was someone who could read minds.

“It’s called the naughty game.”

Then he smoothly turned on his heels while a thousand thoughts clouded your mind. You watched him, his back to you as he ascended the stairs, leaving you to contemplate the twisted rules of his game. What happens if you're naughty? you wondered, a desperate plea for some semblance of understanding.

He halted, his silhouette framed by the dim light at the top of the staircase.

"You lose," he answered, the words echoing ominously off the walls.

And with that, he disappeared from sight, leaving you alone with the chilling silence, your wet panties, and your racing thoughts. ~ AN: More? ~

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