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rubynationwins · 2 years

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Front Row Seat (18+)

Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Lloyd gives you something to do while he’s getting information out of his target–keep his cock nice and warm.

Main Masterlist

Warnings: (I mean, it’s Lloyd which seems like all the warning u need) Dark!fic, Non-con/Dub-con(reader is Lloyd’s captive), Smut, Cock warming, P in V sex, Public sex/humiliation, degradation, Pet names, Overstimulation, Angst, Canon level violence & description of Lloyd’s “interrogation” tactics (to an OC) similar to those used in the movie, 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.

Connected to this drabble: Actions Have Consequences, but it’s not necessary to read it b4 this fic.

Word Count: 4,223

A/N: Do I even need to add ‘dark!’ in front of Lloyd’s name? I feel like it’s a given😈 This man is my new obsession & I’m fully here for it. If you have any requests for this pairing-or just this mustachioed psycho in general-lmk! Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

“Come on, princess, we don’t got all day!” Lloyd stands a few paces away from the roaring helicopter, his hands resting on his hips, clearly losing his patience waiting for you to get out of the flying death trap. You inhale deeply and unbuckle your seatbelt, which is difficult to do with your trembling hands. Finally, you get it and it zips back into the seat; you stand up on legs just as shaky as your hands and stumble to the open door.

Suddenly, the copter tilts. You’re jostled to the side and your hip rams into an armrest. You cry out, knowing a bruise is already blossoming on the tender flesh. This cabin is too fucking small.

Lloyd’s boisterous laughter rings through the air and you shoot him a silent curse. You wouldn’t ever dare say anything audible, but in your head, you’re throwing every curse under the sun at his smug face.

The chopper hovers a few feet off the ground instead of resting on the helipad for some ungodly reason, and you hesitate when you reach its edge. You swallow, not confident if you hop down that you’ll land on your feet.

Lloyd reaches his arms up. “Jump, I’ll catch ya, sweetheart!” His promise gives you no peace of mind. Lloyd may be strong but you doubt he can so much as lift you up. His eyes narrow when you don’t move. “I said, jump.” Lloyd’s word is law, so you hold your breath and leap.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for a rough landing but it doesn’t come. Two strong arms sweep around your waist and Lloyd pulls you into his chest with a satisfied grunt. His arms are steel, surrounding you in a bear hug. Your feet dangle a foot above the ground; he leans down and they’re met with solid pavement. He drops his arms, resting his hands on your soft waist. “Told you I’d catch ya, princess.” He winks and gives your asscheeks a quick squeeze. You jump at the sudden advance and he snickers.

Grabbing your hand, he leads you away from the helicopter as it flies off, the wind from the spinning blades whipping your hair in every direction. Lloyd’s hair, of course, stays perfectly coiffed, not a dark strand out of place.

Now that you aren’t focused on your harrowing chopper dismount, you look around at your surroundings to see where he’s taking you. A giant hangar sits in the middle of an asphalt lot. A forest of green trees and underbrush crowd around it on all sides except the front. The foliage stretches as far as you can see, parted by a narrow airplane runway.

You have no clue where you are. Ever since you “joined” Lloyd, as he likes to put it, you never have any definitive clue as to your exact location. Sometimes you can make an educated guess, but mostly you’ve given up on attempting to find your bearings. It doesn’t matter anyway. No matter where you go, Lloyd is right there next to you, dictating your every move.

All you know about this place is that Lloyd said he wanted you to come along on one of his “work trips” so you can get acquainted with his line of work. You’re not eager to find out what this “work trip” entails, because knowing Lloyd’s profession, it can’t be good.

A man in tactical armor carrying a large shotgun opens the hangar door and you step into a brightly lit metal cavern. Two sleek charter planes take up most of the building, and large wooden crates fill up any empty space. You can only guess as to what’s inside them, and you don’t want to find out.

Lloyd leads you to a door at the back of the hangar that opens into a long hallway. A musty smell permeates the stale air. Three menacing steel doors line the passage, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. Lloyd stops at the last door and raps his knuckles on the dull gray metal.

The door opens and you gasp when you see a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room, a cloth sack covering his head. Your heart begins racing and your eyes fly around the stuffy interior, taking in the two armed guards, the long table lining the far wall, and the worn-out stains splattered around the room. You try not to focus on the dark splotches, even though you’re fairly certain they aren’t old ketchup stains.

You’re too shocked to resist when Lloyd pulls you into what you assume is some kind of interrogation room. Two more guards follow behind. When the door slams shut behind them you snap out of your stupor.

You begin to hyperventilate, your shaky breaths becoming ragged. You tug against Lloyd’s grip, desperate for an escape. The small rectangular windows lining the wall are hardly big enough for you to slip out of, and a guard blocks the only door in the cramped room.

Lloyd squeezes your hand tightly and you yelp, ceasing your attempts to pull free. You whip around to face him, your eyes are wide as saucers and full of panic. His striking face is as calm and cocky as ever. “Don’t be shy princess, you’re being very rude, not greeting our special guest,” he coos, his tone patronizing. He walks over to the man tied to the chair, towing you behind him.

When he’s close enough, Lloyd reaches out and yanks off the sack around the man’s head. His lined face is pinched with rage and he strains against the ropes, his shouts muffled by a dirty black cloth in his mouth. Lloyd pats the angry man’s cheek before he straightens back up. He glances down at you and cocks his head. “Don’t worry about all this,” he gestures around the dingy room, “Mr. Wilson was invited here to have a little chat. He’s gonna answer some questions, isn’t that right, Wilson?”

He bends back down to look at the trapped man–Wilson–and makes a concerned face, “Are you comfortable, old pal? Can I get you anything? Some water? Although you’ll probably want something much stronger for what’s about to happen to you.” Wilson’s dark eyes narrow and he struggles against his restraints, more muffled yells sounding from his gagged mouth. Lloyd’s face scrunches up in mock sympathy. “Sorry, I didn’t get that. Guess you’ll just have to stay here for now.”

Lloyd steps back and motions to one of his men, who sets a large tactical-looking box on the table. While the sizable guard unpacks everything, Lloyd guides you over to a corner on the opposite side of the room. He sets you in front of two more intimidating guards so that you’re facing the bound man. He cups your cheek and murmurs, “Stay right here and watch, princess. Like I said before, I want you to get a taste of what daddy does when he’s not at home.” He gives you a playful wink and pinches your cheek before getting back to the task at hand.

He grabs a chair that’s sitting against the back wall and drags it up to rest in front of Wilson. He doesn’t turn the chair around, instead straddling it with the back facing forward. Leaning over to the table on his left, Lloyd unfurls one of the rolled-up bundles laying on it and a neat row of various metal instruments is revealed. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight of the ominous devices.

“Now then,” Lloyd hums, as his hand grabs the gag in Wilson’s mouth, “let’s remove this cumbersome thing first.” He rips it out but before Wilson can say anything intelligible, Lloyd cracks him square in the face with his massive fist. The assaulted man’s head snaps back and he lets out a gurgled scream. You jump, covering your mouth with both hands to keep yourself from duplicating the strangled cry. When he lifts his head back up his nose is already turning purple, blood gushing from it.

Lloyd doesn’t miss a beat, he snatches a pair of small pliers from his “toolkit” and waves it in front of the bleeding man’s face. “That was just a little taste. Things are gonna get a lot more painful for you if ya don’t start giving me some answers. Now, is there something you wanna tell me?”

Wilson splutters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This time Lloyd’s fist connects with the side of his face; the sickening crunch making your insides reel.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” As he speaks, the same man who had set up Lloyd’s workstation snatches Wilson’s right hand, straitening one of his fingers out. Lloyd moves in front of it, obstructing your view of the hand, but you can infer by the sounds of pain what he’s doing with the small pliers he’d chosen.

When his howling captive claims ignorance again, Lloyd wrenches his arm back and Wilson’s pained cries increase. “Wrong answer!” Wilson has a crazed look in his eye as Lloyd sets something on the table with the pliers. You almost hurl when you see it. A bloody fingernail.

The nightmare continues for what feels like hours; Lloyd still not getting any closer to whatever it is he’s seeking. You do your best to hold back your revulsion but when the metallic stench of blood hits you, you can’t keep yourself from crying out. When they move to his left hand and you finally see the gruesome work they had down to his right, you sob.

At this point, you can’t control your gasps of horror and mournful whimpers as the man in control of your life tortures a helpless victim in front of your very own eyes. Tears start to stream down your face and your hysterics become louder, drowning out Wilson’s own cries. When Lloyd places the now bloodied pliers down and picks up a much larger pair you can’t control yourself from wailing. “Stop!”

Lloyd stills and draws his hand back from the array of sharp tools, a sudden ominous aura radiating off of him.

Oh god, what have you done?

He slowly stands up, swinging his left leg over the seat, and turns to face you. You expect fury on his features but instead, his eyes gleam with ravenous excitement. Lloyd cracks his neck and saunters forward. His voice drips poisonous honey when he speaks, “You know, sweetheart, normally I’d be pissed at anyone for interrupting me in the middle of work. I mean, I was on a roll, princess!” His posture as he looms towards you is wound tight with unspent energy. You step back but run into the guards behind you. “However, princess, I was already having a difficult time enjoying myself with all your little intrusive sounds.”

He stops directly in front of you, his body almost touching yours, and brings his bloody hands up to frame your face. His touch feels like needles on your heated skin. He squinches his features into a mocking pout, wiping away one of the tears staining your cheek with his thumb.

“I know you’re not used to this yet, but fuck, I didn’t think you’d react like this. You can barely contain yourself, hun. And let me tell you princess, all those whines and moans of yours are making it pretty damn hard to concentrate.” He grabs one of your limp hands and drags it over his crotch. You gasp when you feel his prominent erection and try to jerk your hand back but he grips it tight, massaging your soft palm against his growing bulge. “Fuck, sweetheart. I don’t know how I’m supposed to work under these conditions.”

He suddenly pulls back and strides back over to his bruised prisoner. Wilson flinches when he nears but Lloyd snatches the chair he’d been straddling and drags it back, turning it around as he does so. He sets the heavy metal chair about five feet away from the beaten and bloody man. He sits down, lounging back in his seat, and looks over at you and smiles, his wide grin reminding you of a wolf baring its sharp teeth.

Lloyd wastes no time pulling his straining cock out of his pants, clutching the growing member in his strong grip. His eyes devour you as he strokes it up and down. You’ll never get used to the sight of it, huge and throbbing, the head already leaking pre-cum. It’s split you open too many times to count at this point, but still, your pussy walls are never prepared for his massive size. The first few strokes are always pure agony as your walls are stretched to encompass his substantial girth.

Lloyd’s deep voice cuts through your wandering thoughts, “Well, come on over, princess. Come sit on daddy’s lap so he can help you through all this.”

You step forward but hesitate, hovering just out of his reach. You look around the room with wide eyes, feeling all the heated gazes lingering on your quivering form. Your mouth is dry and your skin feels clammy like you’re burning up. Your voice quavers as you mutter, “P-please, Lloyd, don’t make me do this. I can’t–”

His shrewd eyes flash a warning and you swallow your protest, otherwise, it might be you strapped to the chair opposite him next. You inch towards him, hanging your head; your body shaking with embarrassment. Fear-filled adrenaline and deep shame shoot through your veins.

When you reach him you start to climb onto his lap but he stops you with a blood-smeared hand on your hip. He grips the sides of your pants and tugs them down, taking your panties with them. Your breath hitches and new tears well in your eyes. You cover your face as you step out of your pants, too ashamed to look him in the eyes.

Lloyd takes your hands in his and pulls them away from your cowering face. He chuckles under his breath, eyes dilating at the sight of you bare before him. He licks his lips and his dark mustache twitches when he notices the tremor in your thick thighs. “Hop on, sweetheart.”

Before you can straddle him, he grabs your wide hips and spins you around. “You don’t want to miss the show, now do you, princess?” Your eyes widen when you see the towering guard who had been assisting Lloyd beforehand starting up a generator; attaching jumper cables to it. “Lucky you, getting to watch Tod take over. He’s pretty good at this stuff too, not as good as me, of course.”

Lloyd’s grip on you is tight as he lowers your ass down onto his cock. His cock-head slips in between your pulsing pussy-lips and you gasp at the sensation as he stuffs his thick length inside of you. The burn of him stretching your walls as he pulls you down inch by inch is insufferable. You mewl, throwing your head back and sucking in deep breaths, trying to relax your tense muscles.

He’d already filled you up once today, in the shower that morning, so your pussy is already sore and the added sting as he lowers you down is unbearable. The position you’re in only makes it worse. You can feel every ridge and bulging vein as he pulls your weight down onto his engorged dick, the full sensation too much for your already fucked out cunt. Your whimpers of pain only egg Lloyd on, and when he’s fully sheathed inside you he thrusts his hips up, slamming against your cervix.

You fall back into his chest, your toes curling at the merciless invasion. His next movements are minuscule; just small, shallow thrusts with his cock still buried to the hilt in your quivering sex. In between the teasing thrusts he circles your hips around his cock, growling at the feeling of your ass grinding against him.

His teasing thrusts drive you crazy. They’re enough to rile you up but are far from enough to offer you any kind of release. You’re even more ashamed that you’re yearning for pleasure in this grotesque situation. You excuse it as wanting to get it over with quickly so you can go back to cowering in the corner.

Lloyd doesn’t seem to have the same mindset, though. One of his hands rests on your thigh, squeezing and massaging your delicious curves, but only ghosting over where you need his scalding touch the most.

You don’t remember when he slipped his hand under your shirt, but he plucks one of your nipples and you gasp at the added stimulation. He pinches and teases the sensitive nubs with his rough fingers and you try not to think about the slight stickiness of them. You try not to think about the blood on his hands tainting your skin.

“Open your eyes, princess, I told you I don’t want you to miss the show.” Lloyd squeezes your now stinging nipple tight and you let out a strangled groan. His chest rumbles when your tight cunt clenches around his aching dick.

When you force your eyes open you immediately regret it. Tod, the guard, presses one of the electrified jumper cables to Wilson’s cheek and the man writhes in his seat, straining against his restraints. Tod has a twisted, delighted look on his face, similar to the one Lloyd always sports but less controlled.

With his henchman now doling out the punishments, Lloyd begins the same line of questioning as before. For every unsatisfactory answer Wilson gives, he gets a shock from Tod’s jumper cables, each strike leaving a slight burn in its wake.

All while Lloyd presses you to his cock, his arm thrown around your waist to keep your hips from bucking up. Even worse, with every blistering shock and cry for mercy, Lloyd’s dick twitches inside of you. You always knew Lloyd was a sick bastard, but you can’t believe the sadist is getting off on watching the brutal action playing out before you.

You feel sick. You want to hate him, you want to scratch his eyes out, pry his heavy hands from your body and crawl off his lap. But you’re too weak–both in body and spirit. Lloyd has broken you so many times that the notion of refusal, of fighting, is a fleeting fantasy. All you can do is watch the gruesome interrogation, helpless to the trauma unfolding in front of your eyes. And still, even while witnessing the awful torture, you’re coming undone by Lloyd’s relentless ministrations.

He has you right on the edge of pleasure, but the ache of his fat cock splitting you open is keeping you from your release. It’s all you can do to keep from begging for some kind of friction against your swollen bundle of nerves, not that you’d put it past Lloyd to demand you do just that.

Tod presses an electrified jumper cable to Wilson’s neck for a moment longer than the other shocks and he screams and thrashes like never before. The cries dwindle into weeping pleads for mercy as the electricity bleeds out of his system.

Lloyd can’t hold back his groan, “Fuck, princess, this is almost too much.” His hips snap up and you yell out his name. “That’s it,” he grumbles against your ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Take daddy’s fat cock. Look at you, a hungry little cock-slut getting off in front of all these people. Have you no shame, princess?”

His hips start rolling into you with a steady rhythm and it’s your turn to plead for mercy as he tears your pussy apart. He drops his hand to your cunt and you wail when he finally touches your needy clit.

You shake as he rubs small circles around the sensitive nub while he taunts you with more cruel words, “I had no idea you were such a dirty slut. This was supposed to be your punishment, princess. Your punishment for making me this hard in front of my men. In front of Mr. Wilson here. It’s downright unprofessional. Though I’m sure Wilson wishes his punishment was this–” he pinches your throbbing clit and you squeal, arching your back like a cat in heat–“pleasurable. Maybe if he had been more cooperative I would have been more inclined to share.”

Your breath hitches at what Lloyd is insinuating, disbelieving his words, but knowing deep down he would have no qualms passing you around if it helped him win. Because that’s all this is to him; a game that he loves to play. A game he must win at all cost, no matter who he has to hurt or manipulate or torture. There are no lines that can’t be crossed in Lloyd Hansen’s twisted playing field.

Lloyd breathes in your scent, “Hmmm…Well, maybe if Tod can get the info out, I’ll let him have a go as a reward for a job well done. There’s no amount of cock a cum-slut like you can refuse, right princess?” Your sounds of protest morph into moans of insatiable pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts and applies more pressure to your clit.

You don’t miss the way Tod licks his lips as he looks at your plump pussy getting pounded by his boss. He adjusts himself before getting back to work with renewed vigor. You shiver, trepidation flooding your psyche. Goosebumps rise on your flesh.

Lloyd must have seen the lust-filled look in Tod’s eyes too because he growls deep in his throat and holds your hips in a vice-like grip. He starts bouncing you up and down on his swollen cock, stuffing your dripping cunt to the brim over and over again, your juices soaking his pristine white pants.

Every time his cock-head slides against your g-spot you see stars, barely able to make out Tod and the weeping Mr. Wilson. There’s no way you can control the salacious sounds spilling past your lips, you can’t think straight as Lloyd absolutely wreaks you.

Your breasts jiggle as he bounces you up and down. Other parts of you jiggle too, but Lloyd doesn’t care. He loves the feel of your generous curves pressed against the hard plains of his body, the force you can take as he drives his cock into you. But most of all, he loves how he can turn you into a cock-dumb, drooling mess. The wanton sounds he’s pulling from you right now are the reason he’s kept you by his side for so long–and why he’ll never let you go. You’re his perfect, pliable princess, and he will keep you locked in a tower if it means you’ll never escape his hold.

Your trembling walls squeeze tight around Lloyd’s dick when he slaps your clit, the sharp sensation shooting up your spine and unintelligible curses tumble from your chapped lips. You chant his name like a prayer when he lifts up your left leg, his powerful bicep curled under your knee. Over and over, he hits the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars as his cock slams up into you.

He orders Tod to shock Wilson when he denies him the information he’s seeking yet again. Lloyd growls in your ear as he cums at the exact same time the jumper cable meets flesh.

The feeling of his thick, hot cum shooting into you pushes you over the deep end. White hot flames spark through your veins. You convulse, your walls fluttering around Lloyd’s leaking dick as your entire body seizes up from your intense orgasm. You’re a jumble of cum and slurred speech as you come down from your lofty high. Your chest heaves as you try to reign air back into your lungs.

Lloyd bites your shoulder and you shudder at the sting of his teeth marking you as his. He laps at the wound, pleased with his handiwork. “So fucking perfect,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Even though your stomach still has butterflies, you try to pull away from his muscular form–but you can barely wiggle your fingers, much less climb off of him.

Turns out, you don’t have to worry about that. Lloyd stills your movements with large hands placed on your waist, pressing you all the way back down onto his cock. It’s somehow hardening again, the stretch taking over your blown-out senses once more.

You groan, shifting uncomfortably in his lap, but Lloyd shushes you, “Uh-uh-uh, princess. You’re staying right here. Gotta keep daddy’s cock nice and warm while we wait for Mr. Wilson to cough up the answers we need. Besides, it’ll help your tight little cunt get acclimated to being wrapped around daddy’s cock while he works because you’re gonna need to get used to it.” He cups your jaw and forces your head forward.

You can’t even bring yourself to react to his foreboding declaration. All you can do is sit there with his insatiable cock filling your tender pussy and struggle to hold in your shameful moans. Lloyd clearly isn’t stopping until Wilson gives up the intel-or worse-either way, you’re going to be filled up with his pulsating length for the foreseeable future. Just like he wants.

“Tod, up the voltage.”

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slashersgirlypop · 1 year

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Grilled Cheese Chapter 13.

TW: NON-CON KISSING

(September 3rd, 1978)

I groaned, rolling onto my side, away from the blinding ray of sunlight that shone on my eyes. My back ached from whatever the hell Michael laid me on. I knew we were no longer driving, but I didn’t know where we were.

I opened my eyes, sitting up and rubbing my neck. I was in a dirty, bare-walled room with stains on the carpet. There was a small, smashed window, the glass scattered on the ground beneath it. On the ground next to me was a shattered mirror, with bits of my reflection along the floor, a constellation of me. What was the white thing on my forehead?

I reached up and touching the side of my head where it was aching. My fingers brushed along gauze. Taking one of the pieces of glass, I investigated my reflection. There was gauze wrapped around my head clumsily, but with intent. There was a small dark stain on the side of my head, probably from where Michael smashed my head against my headboard. I gently lifted the gauze, grimacing at the wound. It didn’t look too deep, but it was a head wound so it seemed worse than it probably was.

Getting up, slightly wobbly, I made my way to the door on the other side of the room. I glanced back at the makeshift bed I was on. It seemed like a sleeping bag, well, my sleeping bag. Michael must have packed it. I noticed another sleeping bag, maybe a few feet away from mine. Maybe someone left it?

I slowly opened the door, stepping out into the next room. I think I was in some abandoned mobile home. It looked like someone was in a rush to leave, and whoever used to live here had problems. By that, I mean the various amounts of cheap beer bottles scattered along the hallway.

Stepping into the front room, I saw Michael. He was sitting on a broken sofa that was tilted on its side.

“Hi,” I croaked out, my throat dry from lack of water.

“What time is it, Mikey?” He pointed to a clock leaning against the wall. 2:45.

“How long are we going to stay here, uh, wherever here is?” He didn’t respond, only returning his attention back to the sketch book he had in his lap.

“Okay…Do you still have whatever you wrapped my head in so I can maybe clean the wound?” I asked. He pointed to the bag on the floor.

Retrieving the first aid kit, I went to the bathroom and tried to find a reasonably clean spot on the messy and stained counter.

I hissed as I felt the alcohol sting my skin, gently cleaning the wound. I was surprised Michael had bandaged my head, although it was a sloppy job. It’s the thought that counts I suppose, though.

I gently applied fresh gauze, content with the job I did. I mean, it wasn’t nurse-level good, but when you are virtually alone most of your life, you learn how to treat a wound decently.

As I cleaned my wound on my head, I thought back on the strange and crazy turn of events that led to this moment. It’s been, what, four days since Michael has entered my life? He entered my home one night, demanded I prepare him food, choked me, spanked me, killed my assistant manager in my own fucking home, and then knocked me out and took me God knows where. To top it all off, despite my dizzy head, probably from the wound he gave me, I am relatively calm about the whole situation.

Shouldn’t I be screaming? Begging, pleading for my release? Saying I won’t tell a soul if he lets me go?

Why am I taking this whole situation so well?

“Mra?” I softly smiled as I finished the knot on the freshly applied gauze wrapped around my head, feeling Mrs. Petunia brush softly against my leg.

I guess having something that provides some sort of comfort does keep me more grounded and less likely to act irrationally. Okay, aside from my escape attempts which have ended with me being choked or spanked cruelly.

Exiting the bathroom, I walked back into the living room. Michael was in his same position, only moving to draw more to…whatever was on his sketchbook. Jesus, was that a picture of him stabbing some poor blonde girl?

“Um, so, what now?” He paused his drawing, slowly looking up at me.

“I mean, I’m surprised I’m taking this whole situation well right now, but what will happen from this point on? Stay here forever? Because if it is, I need some cleaning supplies because this looks like some, uh, drug…place,” I finished weakly, looking at the several grossly colored stains along the wall along with the cheap empty beer cans around the room. Why did it smell like…a skunky smell, I wanna say?

He said nothing, only nodded before drawing his attention back to his sketchbook. I sighed, crossing my arms. I jumped, feeling Mrs. Petunia begin to climb up my pant legs and then up my side, perching herself on my shoulders. She began to purr in my ear, content. I reached up and stroked her, my attention still on the silent masked killer who was using crayons to graphically depict the blood spilling out of whoever that poor lady was.

“Mikey, I’m going to be honest with you here. Why me? What’s so important about me that you couldn’t just, I don’t know, leave me at my house, at least tied up so I couldn’t escape to get help and you could get away?” He once again paused. He looked up at the wall, as if pondering his words, or something like that.

It’s really hard to tell what he’s thinking since he always has that damn rubber latex whatever on.

Finally, he flipped to a new page of his sketchbook and his hand flew across the page, writing something.

He got up once he was finished and made his way over to me. As he got closer, Mrs. Petunia grunted and hopped off my shoulder. Soon, he stood right in front of me, making me feeling immensely small and weak compared to his towering and built figure.

He handed me the paper, and I took it.

“Becuse you are m ine,” Is what was messily written on the paper.

“‘You are mine?’ Mikey, what does that even m-“ He grabbed the back of my throat and pulled me close, crouching slightly to my level. The nose of the mask briefly rubbed against mine before he pressed the fake lips against mine. Shock ran through my veins along with fear. It was over as soon as it started, and he walked back to his seat, plopping down on the sofa. It creaked under his form as I stood there frozen.

Well, this just got more complicated than I thought. Fuck.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~

WHAT IS UP MY BITCHES????? Yeah, things are now gonna move more into the Michael being his more bad side!!! I'm sorry it took so fuckin long to update. I've had a mental breakdown, got a new job being a waitress, been sick, and am slowly losing some of my best friends. Oh yeah, and I've officially entered the stage of having alllllll level 3000 courses at uni. so yeah. next chapter might be out next weekend. Fairwell, my fellow slasher sluts ;-3

#halloween 1978 #michael myers #slasher #yandere michael myers #yandere michael myers x reader #hostage reader #tw: noncon #captive reader

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arieswritez · 5 months

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yandere mark nsfw alphabet😳😳 loved the idea

cw; DARK CONTENT! MDNI!!! rape, breeding/baby trapping, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, abusive 'relationships', edging, predator/prey dynamics, nipple play, kidnapping, food tampering, mentions of suicidal ideation, threats of violence, implied death, manipulation, victim blaming, branding, mentions of incapacitation.

about; nsfw alphabet ft. cray cray mark x gn! reader xx a/n; a couple of u asked for this so here it is :D not edited & straight off the dome so excuse any grammatical errors. will edit if necessary xx

A= Aftercare

'aftercare' with yandere mark is patronizing and condescending. a lot of shushing, wiping your tears, and asking why you're so upset. you asked for this with all your fucking cock teasing. it couldn't have been that bad, i mean, he did make you cum! why can't you just let good things happen to you? ;(

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

mark loves your eyes <3 it's the first thing he's noticed from you. how they seemed to gleam and widen while you gave him your undivided attention. he can't count the amounts of times he had to excuse himself and jack off in the bathroom: imagining how your eyes would water with his cock stuck down your throat. or the way your eyebrows would furrow while he jack hammered into you.

C= Cum

yan mark definitely likes marking you with his cum. he likes to see it dripping off your face, along your belly, your thighs, but most importantly, he loves it when he watches it drip out of you. whether you can get pregnant or not - and good luck if you can - there's just something primal about cumming inside of you. marking you in and out.

D= Dirty secret

he's a masochist just as much as he's a sadist. his little obsession with you caused him to get a tattoo of your name <3 right at his adonis belt 🥺 so everytime he's in too deep,, your hands desperately try to hold his hips back,, and your blunt nails dig into the curved lines of your name. it never fails to make his eyes roll into the back of his head 🫶🏽🤭

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

canon typical mark is (was) a blushy lil virgin but yan!mark has a tad bit more experience. he's attractive, he's funny, he knows how to play into the slightly awkward charm that got you to lower your defenses. so it's safe to say it isn't hard to find random hookups every now and then.

it's not all about his experience. he just knows what you like.

you may not know it, but he's. . done his research. and by that i mean, he's logged into your computer or your phone and looked through your browser history. he knows what kind of porn you like. and some of those things are borderline freaky. here you are, acting all innocent, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. or high and mighty like no one would ever dare snuff out your flame.

who would've known you were such a desperate slut?

but that's okay! because he's willing to do anything to satisfy you. . or humiliate you by making you cum. he feels it takes you down a peg, when he pins you down and makes you cum even though you don't want to. even though your mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to hold your climax back while he plays with your clit/cock.

unbeknownst to you, he's watched you masturbate. knows the right amount of pressure & speed that gets your toes curling. he knows you so well & he can't wait to learn more about you 💕

F= Favorite position

mark loves watching you squirm beneath him. most importantly, he loves taking you down. he might even make you think you can get away. the chase, the constant cat and mouse you'd subject him to used to be torture. your teasing, the occasional sliver of skin as you stretched, the way you'd lay your head on his lap as the two of you watched television, the way you'd grin when he blushed. . and the wrestling. god, the play wrestling.

he used to let you win. but now. . now this is real. there's real consequences. so he makes you think you can kick him off while you flail. maybe even lets you get up and run. your elbows are all scuffed during the struggle and he's given you a busted lip, but he lets you think you've won.

god knows he'll catch up eventually.

the games he'd play made you cocky. you thought you were stronger than him instead of considering that it was just him playing nice. so he loves to watch the look of defeat, of deception, anger, and disappointment towards yourself when it's revealed he could've had his way with you all along.

he loves to be on top.

but sometimes,

sometimes,

he likes it when you're on top. some things never change. and lets just say he didn't always let you win play wrestling just because he was trying to be a gentleman. but because he liked the way your weight felt on top of him as you grinned triumphantly, pinning his wrists down.

now, of course, things have changed. he can't let you have all the control. pity. but he forces you to ride him: his hand wrapped around your throat. he could really hurt you if he so much as wanted to. . something he hisses into your ear whenever your pace so much as falters. he makes you work for it. and it takes longer to make him cum when you ride him. fear makes you clumsy, makes your legs shake more, and you're sore and achy and tired, which makes it all the more fun.

so i think his fave is when he forces you to be on top :)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

yan!mark teases you a lot. comments on how many times he's made you cum, pinches your nipples just to hear you squeal. he's only ever quiet and serious when he's in a bad mood.

H= Hair

mark's trimmed but not necessarily shaved.

you, on the other hand, have to be shaved. not because he finds it unattractive (if anything, it makes him feral. makes him feel like you're something meant to be conquered, something to be domesticated. controlled.)

hence his decision to have you shaved at all times. it's about control.

he forces you into the bath tub and watches as you shave, making sure you're all pretty for him. no, you don't get a say in the matter. you're his little doll. he'll do whatever he wants to you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

mark is rough. depending on the situation, he may start off slower, softer, easing into you while his words are pure venom. he's grinding into you, making you hiccup, because this type of 'love making' should be reserved for couples. not whatever the two of you have got going on. but of course, he speeds up. roughing you up the more into it he gets.

he's rough regardless of who the object of his affection is, but he's definitely rougher if you're on the masculine side. yan!mark doesn't like to be challenged. he doesn't like talk back. he doesn't like you running around thinking you're big and bad. so he has to knock you down a peg. force you to understand he's stronger than you.

he chokes you out, squeezing your throat until your vision spots. he likes to watch your face change colors. and when your mouth opens, desperately trying to suck in air, he spits onto your tongue 💗

likes it when you - confident, and tough, walking like nothing can ever hurt you - beg him to let you go. beg him not to kill you.

because, sometimes, you fear he just might.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he does! but when he gets you, there's really no need for that <3

when he hadn't kidnapped you, he'd masturbate all the time. it was the only way to relieve himself. like i rambled about before, he'd steal your underwear and cum into them, use them as tissues to wipe his abdomen clean.

secretly takes pictures of you - upskirts if you wear 'em,, or just candids. cums to your most mundane selfies.

if the two of you were close before he kidnapped you, debbie would send you all types of homemade treats. sweet or savory, whatever it was; you loved debbie's cooking. what you didn't know was that mark would add a little bit of his own . . twist to them. when you'd steal bites of his food, you always wondered why his tasted differently to yours.

and the way he'd stare at you as you ate, jesus.

you thought he just liked the way you'd wolf down whatever his mom cooked. turns out he just liked watching you eat his cum.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

BREEDING!!! whether you can get pregnant or not, he loves the idea of claiming you for a lifetime. of changing your life and forcing you to carry his child. watching you grow round and hormonal. he knows he'd have to keep you on a tight leash; lest you do something you'll regret in order to escape your fate. but it'll be worth it. because after nine months, you'll have another life to look after. you'll be on edge all the time, protecting a fragile, little life, because you can't trust mark to do it.

after all, if you're really bad, he can always get rid of it. start all over again. and you wouldn't want that, would you~?

dacryphilia.

there's nothing like watching you cry. when you'd confide in him about your troubles, when you'd cry on his shoulder, seek solace in his company for whatever reason, and cry. . it'd be really hard to hide his erection. the first time you let yourself cry in front of him was a day he'd never forget. he couldn't stop thinking about it since. wonders if you tear up when someone fucks you. (you do. you will)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

mark doesn't care where he takes you as long as he's got you. it can be in public or not, just as long as he takes you to the secondary location he'll keep you prisoner in. if it's in the au where nolan & him team up, there will be a compound with all the rebels. you'd be at the top floor in a comfy little penthouse. a gilded cage overlooking the remains of your burned city.

i think he'll first want to fuck you in a place where there'll be no interruptions. if it isn't in the au where him & nolan conquer earth, he knows how to play his role. doesn't want to risk being found raping you. he'll most likely fuck you in a place you hold dear to your heart. your bedroom, could be an example.

because wherever that safe space may be, you won't be able to stand being there without thinking about him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

he likes it when you act so sure of yourself. when someone's a bit cocky and bossy. it's nice to break you.

it is a whole lot easier when someone's shyer, though. wallflowers always blend into the background.

no one misses them when they go missing.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

there's almost nothing mark won't do to you, sorry ;( even if he doesn't like it. . even if you both don't like it. . he'll always find a way to humiliate you if you've been bad. so it's advised you be on your best behavior if you really don't want him to do some fucked up shit to you. & believe him: it hurts him more than it hurts you!!

all he's ever wanted was to own you.

you were meant for him.

so why fight?

you both know you're not getting out of this alive

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

mark doesn't always give head unless it's to put you in your place. just to show you that he can make you cum and theres nothing you can do about it.

but he makes you choke on him all the time. he's impatient, forcing your head down and hiking his hips up to meet your face. if you've pissed him off, he'll pinch your nose and hold you down. loves to feel your nails dig into the bulk of his thigh. sometimes, you'll make him bleed. he doesn't care.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

mark doesn’t last very long BUT he’s got a very short refractory period and can go for countless rounds. by the time you cum once, he’s already cum like three times and he’s ready for more. by then, he’s already fucked dumb. so your next orgasms will be forced out of you, roughed up and overstimulated as his cum leaks out of you, his cum acting as lube and making the slide intoxicatingly easy.

Q= Quickie

basically non-existent. he loves giving you his undivided attention. and he never stops after one round ;(

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves trying new things with you. he's spent so much time fantasizing about you that he doesn't even know where to start the first time he gets his hands on you. he'll most likely force fuck you more than once in a day the first time he gets the chance to.

S= Stamina

(see pace <3)

T= Toys

loves using toys on you. if you’ve used them before him, he’ll force you to use them in front of him. it doesn’t take long before he takes control: grabbing them and fucking you with them. edging you. if you cum, then it’s only fair he cums, too, right? and you don’t really like that much ;( so best hold it in <3

U= Unfair (how do they tease? edge?)

mark loves to tease and edge you.

you say you hate him. you can't stand him touching you.

you bite and you snarl, kick and punch, yet when he has you pinned, edging you for hours on end. . you end up breaking. begging him to make you cum. of course, he coaches you through it. tells you he'll leave you alone once you cum, he promises. yet he drags it out for so long. hearing you ask to cum instead of asking him to stop is music to his ears.

except, mark is a liar. you shouldn't trust him.

he just ends up overstimulating you after you cum😒

V= Volume

lots of whispering and hissing, talks very quietly and carefully. you'd think he'd be loud. . but he's not. and despite the fact that he may say vile, disgusting things to you, he whispers them to you so nicely. . if he were saying anything else it'd be sweet. he's so patronizing ;( whimpers in your ear when he's close.

W= Wild card

really into pain.

since he's got his powers, it's not very often that he feels pain. sure, there are some fights with villains - while he's out playing the perfect hero in the mean time - that give him a few flashes of pain. but that's once a blue moon.

nothing compares to you.

you fight him like you're afraid he might kill you. and he might. but it's never his intention ;( he knows what kills and what doesn't (trust him) &, believe it or not, he doesn't want to lose you. but you fight him with such intensity he has to manhandle you more than he'd like.

your hits are surprisingly hard. you claw at him and punch and kick, and he's thought about breaking your legs more times than he can count - he still might if you catch him on a bad day - but then that'd leave you completely immobilized and that's really no fun. because he likes it when you make him bleed. he likes it when your hands slap against his face and when your nails try to claw his eyes out. he wears the bruises and the cuts you give him like badges of honor and he loves to bite his busted lip when he's close to cumming.

he loves it when you hurt him. and he loves it when he ends up winning, anyway.

X= X-ray (size)

5-6in & THICK. really pretty w/ plump balls. he cums SO much.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

he's got a HIGH sex drive.

you've teased him for so long he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. and there's nothing you can do to stop him. if the two of you weren't close - if the two of you weren't friends, etc. - there's nothing you can do to lay low. you'll catch his attention sooner or later and he'll weasel his way into your life before you even realize it. his intentions would appear pure at first. he'd be so caring, wondering if you're doing okay, and protective; who were you talking to? i don't think they're good for you~

and you listened. because it's mark you're talking about. but if you truly knew him, you'd realize his accusations were actually projections.

Z= Zzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

falls asleep fairly quickly after he's wrung himself dry. but that's only IF he's already taken you hostage. if he so happens to assault you while the two of you aren't where he'd like to keep you, he takes you there, first. coupled with his strange idea of aftercare, he is fairly affectionate. or as affectionate as you'd expect him to be, anyway. always with a hint of menace: he'd hold you tight against him, an arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat. making sure you don't so much as think about straying away from him 💗💗

#mark grayson #invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #yandere mark grayson x reader #mark grayson brain rot #can't stop imagining mark being an absolute creep #“when will my husband come back from war”#but it's just some psycho #do you think yan! mark listens to deftones #korea & lovers are his songs #mascara is if he's still pretending to be normal #& baby traps u or something #so now u have to get marrieeeddd eee #when he follows in his dad's footsteps #making u a stay at home parent while he saves the world #but ur being held hostage #listen to it now i am in ur walls

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gremlingottoosilly · 4 months

Note

thanks for your thoughts on eepy wife! I really appreciate that

for another ask, how about kidnapper!König and spicy food? I think he can handle a bit of spice but fucking brags about it so much that his kidnapped wife really believes it. So for the first time cooking dinner for him, she makes a spicy dish and puts in so much hot sause and peppers that the whole plate is red.

I'm up for all the fluff and maybe something funny, too ><

This man has an atrociously AUSTRIAN taste, he calls paprika too spicy and yells at Horangi for bringing his own food to the mercenary function because he claims that the air is too spicy to breathe around him now. He can brag about eating whole chili peppers and drinking as much hot sauce as he wants but in reality, he will fold after you add too much black pepper to his meat or something. He wouldn't survive, because in kidnapper!scenario, he just wants to eat food made by you, you finally started to come around like a good girl, playing housewife for him!! He couldn't resist your cooking even if the food was anime-style horrible, with pixelated purple colours and little smoke skulls flying around the plate. He is eating it like it's something made by angels themselves - and then, after the first bite, he is coughing violently and almost thinks it was all a trick, you wanted to kill him, to poison him and run away... Then he looks at your face, that little expression of your, naivety and sheer desire to make your kidnapper happy - he knows you're broken enough to never actually try anything, he is just...not really able to put his money where his mouth is, so to speak. He doesn't know how to tell you that he can't handle spicy food, you tried to hard to cook for him, he isn't an ungrateful asshole who will just put you in your cage for trying to please him! God, he is struggling. You made the poor man cry - his enemies would consider hiring you as a special assassin just for him.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #hostage!reader

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lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 5 months

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pov this guy keeps taking you hostage and you're starting to wonder if maybe it's a type of flirting

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takaraphoenix · 7 days

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It is so funny to me that ever since the bad retcon movie spoiler news have been spreading, my notifications have been EXPLODING with people digging up like every single KainShin post I ever made or reblogged; to like or reblog, not to clown on.

A few years back, I had to see like 75% of shippers leave my ship in my biggest fandom because one of them got a canon love interest and that discouraged them from shipping the non canon ship. Just like that.

Meanwhile, here the author really very badly retcons the ship into being related and all reactions I have seen so far are either FUCK CANON or THIS ONLY MAKES IT HOTTER.

Genuinely can not express how much I love you guys.

Like, yeah there are certainly people who will abandon the ship, and I'm deeply sorry that Gosho made it so you can no longer enjoy this ship and I do respect the choice; bad canon writing decisions have made me turn my back on ships in the past too.

But I haven't sailed this non-canon-and-never-will-be-canon ship for 20 years to have canon get in the way now.

I just FULLY do not care about this late ass, bad retcon. Doesn't exist to me, the same way Kaito and Shinichi's heterosexuality and Shin/Ran doesn't exist to me.

Fandom exists to have fun with the characters and the world, to play around and cherry pick what you like about canon and only keep the bits that spark joy. That is how I have treated fandom for over twenty years now and that is how I will continue treating fandom.

#DCMK #Detective Conan #Movie 27 Spoilers #Detective Conan Spoilers #KaiShin #felt like reassing my readers/followers on my stance here #but also GOOD GODS we are 27 movies into this franchise #ON TOP of the way over 1000 chapters/episodes and he only does this NOW #HOW could I POSSIBLY take this seriously #between this and Aoko's mom it feels like Gosho is being held hostage #and is trying to let us know via awful late retcons that make no sense #hoping someone will notice and come and free him

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purerae · 9 months

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— ROOM 42.

FEM!READER X YANDERES

— being forced to reveal your secrets is never fun.

( keep reading for more information. )

SYNOPSIS ;; When Y/N L/N finds herself in detention due to her inability to finish her math homework, she discovers the schools delinquent in the same isolated classroom. Ignoring their previous disagreements, they both discover a weirdly placed door at the back of the room. Curious about the strange door located they decide to investigate it together. However, their attempts are stopped by the teacher, who sends them out before they can unlock it. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, Y/N and her friends devise a plan to sneak into the classroom after school and explore the hidden space. Little did they know, they'll be trapped inside, forced to play a twisted game of approval, secrets, and betrayal. As they delve deeper into the room's secrets, they soon realize the consequences of their actions could be dire. How far would they go to cover their sins? How far would they go... for her?

WARNINGS ;; yandere behaviour , fem pronouns used, male and female yanderes, stalking , manipulation, reverse harem , bullying , angst , death , torture , obsession , murder // (more will be added if needed!!)

TAGLIST ;; OPEN!!

A/N ;; new story!! this was from my old wattpad account i just chose to continue to update and improve it on here <3

START ;; 13/07/23 - ONGOING..

𖥻 characters

𖥻 chapter one ; prologue.

𖥻 chapter two ; detention.

𖥻 chapter three ; storage.

𖥻 chapter four ; stupid decisions.

𖥻 chapter 5 ; please don’t!

𖥻 chapter 6 ; disgust.

𖥻 chapter 7 ; it’s okay.

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demonic0angel · 7 months

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I have nothing to say…. (Click for clarity)

#omniscient reader novel #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dojka #tcf #lcf #orv #orv kdj #imagine my shock when I find out that orv only has 551 chapters???#like lotm and tcf look absolutely crazy in comparison #*head in my hands as I sob* KDJ is holding me hostage

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laurens0 · 1 year

Text

Small mw2 x male reader

Characters: price, ghost, soap

Warnings: reader has ADHD

Genre: crack, fluff? It’s platonic

————————————————————————

Price to hostage that they had to question* : Ur not gonna talk?

Hostage: No

Price: okey… you’re gonna hate my partner, he interrupts all the time

Y/n with ADHD*: how’s it going?

Hostage: Could be better. Just wish i wouldn’t fuckin-

Y/n: did you see game of thrones last night? I’m sorry, you’re still talking. I do that a lot. I do that a whole bunch. Uhm, do you sell drugs? Or uh… what was I talking about 2 seconds ago?..

Hostage: game of thrones

Ghost: price, this ain’t gonna work.

Price: just give him a moment

Y/n back to the hostage*: no

Hostage: do I sell drugs..

Y/n: yes!

Hostage: no..

Y/n: where’s my phone at? I do this all the time.. can you call my phone.. real quick? I’m looking for my phone..

Hostage: what’s ur number?..

Y/n: you should really watch game of thrones. It’s 310-598-7537

Hostage: this number is already saved in my phone?..

Y/n: ur supplier…

Hostage: yhe?..

Y/n to price*: he gets his stuff from Johnny.

Ghost: well I’ll be damned

Price: told ya

Y/n to the hostage*: gotcha

Hostage: fuck…

Soap: great job y/n!

Y/n: thx adhd does have its good sides sometimes

————————————————————————

FEM ALIGNED DNI

Reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

If you have requests you can leave them in the comments

#captain john price #ghost mw2 #hostage #mw2 x male reader #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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moonshine-nightlight · 1 year

Text

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Two

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 22

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] Part Twenty-Two [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

“Well now ladies,” the tallest man speaks, his voice low and condescending. He’s smug too, like the cat that got the mouse, as he steps forward twirling a dagger. “You don’t seem to have our prize stallion with you as we expected, but I’m certain his filly and granny will make perfect bait.”

You’re glad to have a wall at your back in some ways, but you’d feel better with a method of escape.

“I know not what your aim is,” Grandmother begins. You’re relieved to hear Grandmother speak. The way her strength had been failing, you were getting worried about how bad she might have been hurt. You also have no idea what to do next, the assassins fanned out in a semi-circle on the other side of the desk you two are behind. Her voice is rough, but strong, as she continues, “but I assure you: it will fail!”

“Know not?” the one on the right says, her voice more bored than anything. Her head tilts with the question, but she keeps her spear pointed at your corner. She’s got a scarf tied tight about her mouth and hair, leaving only eyes free. She’s clad in dark well-worn clothes that give free range of movement. There’s a bulk to them that suggests leather armor of some sort is under them. She stands with a sturdiness you can determine even with your minimal martial knowledge. She looks like it’d take an ox to move her where she doesn’t want to go.

“Clen just said what our aim is,” the one on the left says, his voice mocking. Grimly, you agree. They all but said you’re now hostages to them, leverage against Dale. You wonder what he might have done, likely not to them, but to those that hired them. These were rough folks, but skilled. Although, they did bungle their actual capture of Dale, nabbing you and Grandmother instead.

They’ve already adapted their plan and they still seem confident. The tall man—Clen—isn’t even out of breath as he holsters his crossbow. The fact that no one’s heard the commotion is really starting to worry you. That means they must have incapacitated those nearby. Anyone you could have alerted or called to help must either be away or somehow dealt with already.

Of all the worries you had about this wedding, somehow attackers targeting Dale or yourself had never crossed your mind. Clearly, you’d been thinking too small, you realize somewhat hysterically. It’s taking everything you have to keep yourself together, but you know you must.

You’re no fighter, certainly not outnumbered with someone to protect. All of your minimal lessons were with weapons you didn’t have, people you do not have around you, and primarily were geared towards escaping. They also tended to be in consideration of one opponent, not four highly trained ones.

“She’s got a bit of a bleed going from her head,” Clen replies. You feel ice slip into your veins and turn your head, trying to keep them in sight but also take a look at Grandmother. You don’t even remember pushing her into the chair behind this desk. She’s managing to seat herself confidently. Her posture makes it appear as though these are mere hooligans who’ve burst into her office unannounced. Only the thin trickle of blood down her cheek betrays her affectation.

You press one of your spare handkerchiefs into her hand, while readying another. “Please use it to stop the blood,” you whisper to her. “You must.”

Grandmother accepts the cloth from you, but you both keep your gazes fixed on the assassins, unable to look away from the threat.

“So I suppose we can’t blame her for not following the obvious,” Clen grins. His scarf covers his head too, but it has holes for his eyes and leaves his mouth visible. The other man is taller than the woman, but shorter than the other men, with only a scarf covering his mouth. You can’t see well in the light, but you think he’s got markings either cut into his short shorn hair or inked onto his scalp.

The final one hasn’t said anything. He’s the one who appeared suddenly in front of you to cut off your escape. He also has no covering on his face at all. His hair is black streaked through with gray and his eyes seem to glow, highlighting the blue of one and the green of the other. He looks the least physically strong, but you’ve a feeling he doesn’t fight that way—not to discount the short sword he does have in his hand.

Assassins, a word you can hardly believe you are thinking, also tend to come in two breeds: those who are extremely skilled fighters and thieves and those who are that and also dabble in demonics. That last one is definitely the latter. And even the others look like they might at least have had some Depth enhancement work done. Did someone know to send such types after Dale? Or were they merely counting on Northridge being vulnerable to such attackers? Maybe this group was just the best money could buy.

“We’re here for your little heir,” Clen says, enough theater pomp to his manner that you wonder if he was once a performer. “Our generous patrons want him trussed up and escorted back to them. Before we deal with him to their satisfaction. Bit frustrating he didn’t come back with you two as he had every past nights, but we’ve time to wait.”

“Even with this distance between us,” he smirks, waving an arm towards where you and Grandmother are wedged. “I know you agree that you’re well and truly cornered.”

“So sit still and wait like good bait,” the man on his left says, his eyes and voice conveying the smirk he must be wearing, “danglin’ on the hook, for the lordling to arrive.” You think you like him the least. His eyes seem cruel and his daggers very sharp.

“You can yell all you want then,” the woman says, seemingly convinced that you’ll stay put. She’s pulled her spear back to her and is polishing it with her sleeve. “But don’t bother now. Some’at mysterious struck the guards this wing of the house. What was it again, Lasky?”

“Food poisoning something bad, I heard,” the man on the left, who must be Lasky, says. His eyes seem to linger on you in particular, despite Grandmother doing the talking, even now when answering the woman. You wish you had more than a dull dinner knife on you because the idea of that one in particular anywhere near you makes your skin crawl

“My lot are in the cellar,” the woman returns with a shrug, “got stuck somehow.”

“And Two won’t tell what he did to his,” Clen jerks his head at the silent, unmasked man. He’s the one you’ve already decided is the most dangerous. You’re certain he’s by far the most mixed up in demonics. Even beyond the superstition of people with two different colored eyes. His disinterest in hiding his identity, the shadow movement he displayed, his silence and lack of blinking all point towards possession to you. He unnerves you far more than Dale did, even in the beginning. There’s a carelessness to him, something unbound and unrestrained. You don’t want to think on what he could do, if he wanted to. Your only comfort is the fact that he seems largely uninterested in doing anything but leaning against the wall and waiting.

“You will not succeed in this plan,” Grandmother says, clearly fed up with their antics. You’re happy she has it in her to feel annoyed instead of just scared, with the edge of anger like you. “You would do best to try to make your escape now while you still have the opportunity.”

“She’s got brass ones to be threatenin’ us right now,” Lasky says with a laugh that Clen joins in on.

“You’ve no idea what we’re capable of,” Clen says to Grandmother once he’s stopped. “If only your grandson hadn’t angered quite so many people with the money to spare. Mayhap then they’d have hired those lesser than us to accomplish their bidding.”

“He really shouldn’t have cheated that one Lord at cards,” Lasky adds and you can hear Grandmother let out an outraged huff. You bite your lip to hold back unexpected, ironic laughter at the idea that this is just more of same. Original Dale, being careless and leaving others to suffer for his mistakes. “I think he paid more than half our fee by himself.

“My Dale is no cheater,” Grandmother retorts hotly, as if that mattered at all. “If they had a real case, they would follow the proper channels. They would not send thugs after him.”

“Well, our patrons disagree,” Clen replies. He doesn’t slide his sword back into its sheath, but stretches with it still in hand. His shirt rides up to reveal red ink markings that confirm to you he’s got some sort of demonic enhancements.

“Although the knight is a hypocrite,” the woman scoffs. “Complaining about someone else cheating.”

“Who cares? He’s the one paying us extra for—” Lasky starts to say before Two gives him a look. It’s not even particularly menacing, just filled with intent. Clen gets tense for all he doesn’t look at Two, but the woman gives Lasky a glare fit to set him on fire. Lasky shuts up.

She stalks over to him, pointing her spear at him with a thunderous expression on her face.

Lasky turns from Two, who’s gone back to looking out through the open doorway to the courtyard, to face her. “Not your place, Vi—don’t try and speak on things you don’t—”

“Don’t need to understand to know you’d best keep your mouth shut, you ninny,” Vi hisses. “I made an exception, working with you lot, and I’ll not be regretting it.”

“Is this the time?” Clen sounds exasperated and turns to get between them. The resulting argument is quiet enough that it devolves to unrecognizable words and sounds.

Your eyes automatically dart to the door and then to the courtyard, but you know you’d never out run them, let alone be able to with Grandmother in tow. And if they think they’ll be discovered, well, Grandmother would lose her value as a hostage. Besides, your eyes trip past Two while looking. He’s switched back to staring at you.

“Keep calm,” Grandmother whispers in your ear, seemingly wanting to take advantage of the argument. You’re grateful she seems coherent, if tired, but her voice is less strong in your ear than when she was yelling at Clen.

“Your maid and my own will likely have already realized we’re missing,” she reminds you. You’d completely forgotten about sending hers ahead and no doubt yours will be up in your rooms with your late night nibbles soon, both wondering where you two are. “No doubt they will find some guards. Or it will be noticed some guards are missing from their posts. Either way, they will backtrack our route. It is only a waiting game. Just don’t let those ratbags get close.”

“I agree,” you say, glad your voice sounds steady. You try to pivot your body to keep them in the corner of your eye, for at least a few minutes. You desperately want to take a closer look at Grandmother’s injury. “How are you feeling?”

“I will be fine,” Grandmother insists, but she moves as you do, sitting more heavily in the chair with each passing second. You’re able to finally see that the arrow did graze her head. “Just rather…”

Her eyelids flutter rapidly and you hurry to brace her, barely able to keep from making a noise of surprise that might draw the kidnappers’ attention. Her hand falls to her side taking the handkerchief with it, stained red. The resulting cut is bleeding sluggishly into her hair and down her cheek. Since your spare is already in your hand, you’re quick to press it to the wound. You tug a ribbon free from your hair so you can try to fix the cloth in place.

You know the best you can hope for is to set her up in the least dangerous position that also leaves you free to protect her. Who knows what ideas these criminals might get without her conscious to be intimidating? With one less person to make a fuss?

You’ve just gotten it to stay when the sound of Lasky’s voice causes you to whip around.

“Aw, did she fall asleep?” he asks. His continually mocking tone sets your teeth on edge. The three who’d been involved in the argument are back to their original fanned out positions, best to limit your escape. He takes a step closer and you can’t help but press closer to the chair, needing something solid at your back. Needing to remember that now there’s only you there to defend Grandmother. You need to keep it together.

“Don’t feel lonely, I’ll keep you entertained, lady,” he says, stepping even closer. “I am certain I can keep your attention. I venture I could make you forget all about the pompous heir. His fault for letting his little betrothed walk back without him, isn’t it?”

Fear and anger rage inside you at his implications, at his approach. If only you were someone else, someone with the right training. Near everyone you know would be better in this situation than you: schoolmates, siblings. That sparks a memory and you glance down. This was the corset gifted to you by your oldest sister, who wasn’t a knight, but was never unarmed.

“Lasky,” Vi warns. “The granny’s already fainted.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Lasky says, glancing at Vi. “Well, not enough she would not still be useful.”

You hastily take advantage of that split second, fingers fumbling with the tie at the top of your corset. You slid a finger into the hole and drew out a flat, wickedly sharp dagger. Designed as a set with a sheath to act as a typical busk. It is on the thicker side than most busks, but still comfortable in its place down the center of your corset. While in its sheath it performs its job of lending stiffness to the corset. Out of its sheath, the blade is wicked sharp.

You had lessons on using it, but you’d never truly expected to need to apply them. That training was none of the forms and rules of typical martial training. Self-defense is about taking advantage of any vulnerability, leveraging whatever you had at your disposal to get away. It was all dirty tactics and cheap shots. You hold the dagger in front of yourself. The weight of the metal is slight, but steadying. You feel safer with something in hand to protect yourself with.

When Lasky turns back to you, his eyes immediately land on your new blade. “You think you can win a fight with that?” he sneers at it. “It’s hardly more than a letter opener.”

“No,” you reply truthfully, before you tighten your grip. You swallow, realizing you haven’t had to speak yet. You try to pull even an ounce of the steel Grandmother had in her voice into your own. “However, I think I can blind you in at least one eye or take a few of your fingers before you killed me.” Your voice is quieter, with less command than Grandmother’s, but it’s steady, which is more than you’d hoped for.“And I doubt you want that.”

“I told you these noble bitches were cold,” Clen says, but he doesn’t sound upset. Of all of them, he’s been almost cheerful the whole time. “Do not touch her until we have him—she is more tempting bait than the old woman. He’s probably just waiting for her to drop dead as it is. You know how these heirs are.”

Lasky hasn’t retreated, but he’s stopped advancing. You hope he can see how sharp the blade is. You hope he’s thinking about your words. How he will win the fight, but that you are more than capable of making him regret it. More than capable of leaving a lasting mark. That’s how they train the nobility who do not go into the military. Your virtue, your bloodline, are your most valuable possession. It is drilled into any noble, especially those who aren’t heirs, that you must ensure no one besmirches it.

“Would one of you lend me some aid?” Lasky complains.

“The plan was not to take prisoners,” Clen points out, still sound amused more than anything. He’s not even looking at Lasky anymore, instead he’s checking his gear. Obviously, the fight with Dale or whatever guards might come are his main focus. It worries you that they have such time and anticipation when Dale does not. However, it also is a comfort because that means he’s not paying you as much mind. “I would prefer to keep my hands free.”

“No rope,” Vi clarifies where she’s pushing some furniture to the side, making a clearer area for a fight. That makes sense given the reach of her weapon. It doesn’t help the dread pooling in your stomach. You wish they would simply tell Lasky he wasn’t allowed to touch you, that you’re too valuable a prisoner to risk. In the end, you’ll just have to settle for being a hair too much trouble to do more than leave you in the corner you’ve backed yourself into. Alone.

You want to check on Grandmother again. You want to see if she’s awoken or if the handkerchief is soaked through. But you can’t. You can’t afford to look away. Not with Lasky still where he is. Not with him still in the room. Not with him still conscious.

“Two doesn’t need rope,” Lasky says, but you think he’s pouting. Unable to believe how carelessly he’s saying these threats, you chance a glance at Two.

Two’s only indication he knows he’s being talked about is to cross his arms. He stares at you, still not blinking, but unlike Dale, his eyes don’t compel you to fall into them. His eyes make you want to look anywhere else. Given the threats currently facing you, you don’t feel too foolish for hastily looking away from him and back to Lasky.

“And I’m not spending the next however long trying to help you hold onto a squirming, crying girl for whatever purpose you’ve in mind,” Vi says, her voice hard. “Who knows when the heir might show up. And we can’t risk knocking her out with the granny unconscious.”

Lasky sighs, his eyes still betraying a grasping eagerness that you hate. He takes a step back regardless. “Fine, stay in that corner, but I’ll be back for you after we’ve dealt with your naughty fiance.”

You don’t take your eyes off of him, even as he retreats back to the others. You try to think of a plan, something else to do so that fear doesn’t overwhelm you like it’s threatening to. You keep the dagger upraised and pointed, but you try to push the chair back even further. You want to get it close enough to the closet. If you need to hide during the fight that will break out, you want the short distance possible to have to drag Grandmother and the chair.

As you slowly, slowly do move the chair, you keep your ears alert for any information they might let slip. You catch snatches of phrases which begin to paint a picture.

“…don’t want Two to tire himself with the girl when…” Clen says to Lasky, making you readjust your grip on your dagger. You raise the point since it had started to drift lower the longer you kept it aloft.

“…even want her? This payout…” Vi complains.

“…aren’t here,” Clen sounds exasperated even as he helps Lasky use a dagger to pry the jewels from a decorative statuette. “Those are back at their estate…take us….”

“It’s the knight, he’s the one who cares about that,” Lasky says. “It’s why he brought Two on. The heiress is the one who…”

“After. Once Northridge is secured, you can do what you want,” Vi says. “But you’re not risking my…”

You’re pretty sure the knight they keep referring to is Eastmont, who must have warned them Dale had some access to enhancement from the Depths. He seems to also want Dale’s research, which must be why they’re trying to capture him alive. It sounds like if they succeed, Lasky will still want to keep you a hostage—he continues to keep looking back at you. His gaze makes a visceral feeling of disgust well up within you at the way they drag over your body.

You try to think about who these other benefactors might be, a Lord and heiress are the only others they’ve mentioned. But before you think much further on it, Two straightens from his spot near the courtyard door, turning to face the door you came through instead.

The others instantly fall silent.

It takes a tense moment that seems to stretch on and on, until you finally hear what Two must have.

“…certain they only went to the courtyard for some air, my Lord,” a woman is saying and you find yourself barely breathing as you try to hear over your thundering heartbeat for the reply.

“It seems a long time for such a thing to take, especially so late at night.” It is Dale. The relief that floods you is almost dizzying and you sway where you stand. Quickly, you shake your head and adjust your footing. Everything is about to get very very chaotic and you need to be ready.

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my Lord,” the woman replies, “but things take longer for those getting on in years.”

“I shall forgive you,” Dale’s voice is cheerfully teasing and just that sound is immensely comforting to you. “However, best pray Grandmother doesn’t hear you say such a thing.”

“I would never,” the woman says as they get even closer. “Here, I believe Mr Allen said this is likely the way they went.”

They’re so close and you’re torn. Is it selfish to be so grateful he’s joining you in this extremely dangerous situation? Should you call out to forewarn Dale or should you not send him racing in to his death? Will it help or hinder him for you to shout? What is the right course of action?

But time is slipping through your fingers. You make your decision and pray it’s the right choice.

“Dale!”

[Part Twenty-Three]

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slashersgirlypop · 1 year

Text

Grilled Cheese Chapter 6.

TW: NON-CON AND NON SEXUAL SPANKING

(September 1st, 1978)

I huffed, bored out of my mind. Yes, I was still scared of the big, strong, stabby man, (who I just started to call Mask-Man), but I also was locked in the closet for a great majority of the day. If I had to guess, I had been in this closet for maybe five or so hours? Maybe more? All I knew was that when I knocked on the door, asking for at least some food, a slice of cheese was shoved at me. He only let me out today twice to use the restroom. I heard him leave about maybe an hour after locking me in the closet and then come back four hours later through the back door.

Some point during the day, before he left, I heard Miss Petunia come down the stairs. I don’t know what happened, but it didn’t sound like there was any sounds of pained meows. I did hear her begin to eat food, so thankfully the stoic and silent Mask-Man does have decency to at least feed her.

“Excuse me? Sir? Mr. Mask-Man-Person? Are you, uh, just planning on keeping me in here forever? You know, I got a job and friends who might be wondering where the hell I am. Also, it’s really boring in here. I counted all the brush-hair-things on the broom in here fifteen times. I’m worried I’ll go crazy, so, can I be let out?”

As expected, I got no response. I groaned, slumping against the door, sliding down until my butt hit the floor. I began to light bonk my head against the wood. Alright, time to use the annoying-hostage-girl approach.

“Let me out please.” Bonk.

“Let me oOF-,” I huffed, falling on my back once he opened the door. I stared up at him, my head between his shoes, him looking down at me. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I hoped he looked annoyed by my successful antics.

“Mra?” Miss Petunia chirped from Mask-Man’s shoulder, looking down at me curiously. My mouth slightly opened in betrayal at my cat. While I was locked in the dusty old closet, my beloved pet was buddying up and getting all cozy with my captor. The audacity of pets, I swear.

“Alright. So, are we just gonna have a staring contest, Mask-Man? Am I allowed to come out? If you’re planning on a staring contest, it’s not really fair on my end because you could be blinking and I’d have no way to tell with your mask and all.” Shrugging, I looked up at the man. He just stared at me before walking away, leaving me on the floor.

Groaning, I sat up, feeling my joints cracking in my back. I hoping he wasn’t planning on locking me in the closet tonight, because that would not be comfortable to sleep in. Speaking of which, where did he sleep last night?

I turned, jumping as he just stood behind me.

“How are you so fast and quiet, pal?” I asked. Wordlessly, he thrusted two objects into my chest. It was a notepad and crayons. Did…did he want me to draw or something? Then, Mask-Man pushed me not too gently into the family room, where the TV was on, playing cartoons. He shoved me into a chair before walking over and plopping down on the couch. Miss Petunia mewed softly at him as if the gently chide him before hopping off his should and walking over to me. She laid at the bottom of my chair, her head on my foot, and she began to purr quietly.

Mask-Man said nothing, only focusing his attention on the animated figures. Honestly, this is not how I would imagine a kidnapping or hostage-taking-thing would go. It could be worse; I could be dead. At least my only reason to be alive is that I make him food.

I began to absentmindedly draw on the paper, getting lost in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be his cook forever, and eventually someone other than Mr. Steinberg is going to wonder what happened to me and come check on me. Mrs. Gracie most likely will send one of her boys to check on me, like she did when I was sick with the flu and had to take off work. Until then, I have to figure out how to play my cards right and not piss off this guy to the point of killing me. Despite my numerous other escape attempts, I knew I could get out and get help. But how is the question? He’s always there, he’s quieter than an ant, he can kill me probably with one hand, so what would I do-wait. My crayon skid to a stop on the mane of the badass centaur I was drawing

Does he know I have a gun?

Earlier, when I thought he was just some kid pulling a mean joke, I did mention it, but I don’t know if he thought I was bluffing or not. I hope he does think I’m bluffing. I could use the gun and force him to let me out, or even kill him. I frowned at that idea. I don’t really like the idea of taking a life, even if he did kill people, but if I must…

I stood up, stretching my arms, his head turning to me. He began to stand up as well before I sighed.

“I’m just going to make myself some food, Mask-Man. No need to patrol and act as my guard. I’m not dumb enough to try to escape again,” except that I was, “so just, chill out. I’m just hungry because all you gave me was a slice of cheese.” He paused before slowly sitting back down, his head still pointed at me. Then, he slowly turned his attention back to the screen.

Taking deep breathes as quietly as I could as I walked kitchen, my eyes zeroed in on the drawer where the pistol was. Casually, I approached the pantry, which was near the drawer, but unfortunately in sight of the family room, meaning Mask-Man could see me. It also just occurred to me that I had no idea how to use a fucking gun. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Just aim and shoot. I mean, I think it was loaded, although I wasn’t sure.

After pretending to peruse the pantry, I took a deep and shaky breath before yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. I gripped it with both hands and pointed it at the man, who now was staring at me, standing up.

“You know what this is, buddy? It’s a fuckin’ gun. I didn’t wanna do this, but I had no choice. Let me go,” I ordered, trying my best to look intimidating despite the man practically being a giant compared to me. He merely stared at me, before taking a step in my direction, which I yelled at.

“H-HEY! No! Don’t take any steps towards me, you mask-guy-man. Stay there! I will shoot! Don’t try me!” He proceeded to take several more steps, despite my warnings. When he was within five feet of me, I closed my eyes and aimed the gun at his head.

“I’m sorry, but I warned you!” I pulled the trigger, wincing and bracing myself for the inevitable fact that I will be staring at a corpse when I opened my eyes.

Click. My eyes whipped back to the gun, wide. It’s in that moment I realized that it, in fact, wasn’t loaded. Fuck.

He grabbed the gun and wrenched it out of my hands, throwing it aside, staring down at me.

�� “Shit, oh shit, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me, I’m sorry! PLEASE!” I pled, shrieking as he grabbed my hair, no doubt pulling out strands as he dragged me to the living room, my scalp screaming in pain.

He sat down on the couch, yanking me over his lap, making me lose my breath. He grabbed my jeans and yanked them down along with my panties, exposing my ass to the open. I began to writhe, desperately trying to get off him. He was going to rape me, he was going to fucking rape me-

I gasped in pain as I felt his big hand come down of my right cheek, the pain bursting out. I didn’t have time to process what he was doing though because he continued to spank my ass, no doubt leaving bruises at a relentless pace. I began to sob around thirty, dangling miserably from his lap.

My ass felt like it was on fire. He didn’t stick to a pattern, he just spanked. I never had felt so humiliated in my life.

By the time he was done, I was a sobbing mess. Snot was dribbling slowly out my nose onto the carpet below, tears also staining the carpet.

I choked on air when he cruelly gripped my left cheek, digging his nails into the skin. I just let him, feeling defeated. I didn’t know how to react. I was just grateful he was done.

He shoved me off his lap and onto the carpet. I yelped, before continuing to sob, my rear exposed to the air still.

He just ignored me, as he normally did.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

ye, sorry if you aren't normally a crier, (y/n) got a bit of a traumatic experience. I was basing her reaction off what I would do in this situation, and I would just fuckin sob and feel weak. MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKAH/ HAPPY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE!!!! See ya, my fellow slasher sluts.

#halloween 1978 #michael myers #slasher #yandere michael myers #yandere michael myers x reader #hostage reader #tw: noncon #captive reader

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 6 months

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jennifer jareau x daughter reader. She is 12 and gets into a hostage situation on a school field trip. Jj, will, and the team have to save her and the others

Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau X Daughter reader

Request: jennifer jareau x daughter reader. She is 12 and gets into a hostage situation on a school field trip. Jj, will, and the team have to save her and the others

Third person pov...

Y/N Jareau and her Best friend were almost jumping up and down in excitement like the rest of the class was as they neared the museum where they were going for their Field trip.

The little Jareau had been waiting for this day all year and was very excited to finally be going on it. "We have now arrived, please stay seated until we have stopped students!" Yelled Mr Tracy Y/Ns teacher.

This caused a commotion amongst the kids, they all started yelling excited and standing up in their sears as their teacher slouches in his seat, Mrs Hill just sighs at her companion and stands up facing the group of about 40 kids.

"He said QUIET!" She yells effectively making the bus silent not one student dared to speak after Mrs Hill shouted at them, she could be scary when she wanted.

A full 5 minutes if silence passes before the kids all start tlaking excitedly they could see the museum coming up, they all jumped in their seats as the coach finally parked and they could get out.

Once they were outside the teachers began getting the students into groups and paired with a buddy, Y/N and B/F/N where paired together which the two friends loved.

"Okay students, we are now going in stick with your group if you do go off take your buddy with you" called Mrs Hill over the noise, the large group began making their way into the museum.

Y/N and B/F/N instantly break away from the group and wonder off on their own, Y/N had lots of information about the exhibition ls they go into thanks to her Uncle Spencer.

As the two laugh and walk around, outside the building a large van is parked, 5 men all get out dressed in black holding duffle bags and guns

"Let's go" yells the leader.

Just two hours later all hell breaks loose, a group of about 5 men dressed in black storm the museum and puts it in lockdown pulling guns on the people inside including Y/Ns class.

"Shut up the lot of ya!" Yells the leader, over the incom making everyone in the museum hear him, Y/N and B/F/N quickly hide in on of the exhibitions, they hide in a small corner to small for an adult to get to but smaller enough to two teens to sit in.

B/F/N shakes with fear as the leader threatens everyone in the museum, anyone hiding will be taken to the rest fonthe group if they are found. "It's like a sick game of hide a seek" mutters Y/N, she was scared but couldn't let her friend see.

"What would mum do in this situation" mutters the teen trying to remember what her mum taught her, 'stay calm and don't do anything rash, listen and be submissive' thinks Y/N to herself.

They mostly likely have control over the cameras and door locks if they are seem then they will be killed. Y/N racks her brain before grabbing her phone she forgot about it.

B/F/N looks up from her crying as she felt Y/N rummaging around for something. "Ah ha! Found it" she exclaimed it was her phone, quickly the 12 year old pulls open contacts ans calls her Mum.

5 seconds later the woman picks up. "Mum help me!" Says Y/N.

Back in Quantico...

JJ had jsut said goodbye to her daughter she was super excited for her trip to the museum. "Have a great time sweetie!" Yells JJ waving to her excited Daughter the H/C girl waves back equally excited.

As the coach leaves the school JJ makes her way back to the car and drives herself to work. Once she arrives she sees the team gathered around the pull pen talking.

"Morning JJ, Y/N get on the coach okay?" Asks Emily turning the conversation onto Y/N, the whole team knew she was going on a field trip that day.

JJ smiles at them "yeah the coach jsut left, she'll have so much fun" smiles the Blonde, the team then syart Woking after they get a glare from Bossman.

Two hours later JJ is busy writing up a case they had two weeks ago when her phone rings, confused the woman answers wondering why her daughter is calling.

"Hey-Mum help me!" Yells the distressed voice of her daughter the girl sounded terrified. JJ instantly stood up phone next to her ear. "Mum! The museum has been taken over ! It's a hostage situation help us!" Yells Y/N sounding hysterical as she explains.

"Dont worry Honey, I'm on my way the team will be there soon stay put and don't been seen" she exclaims being running from her office ans into the bullpen.

This alarms the team making Hotch abd Rossi run out of their offices and the team surround JJ trying to calm the scared woman. "It's Y/N there's a hostage situation at the museum she's at!" She exclaims crying.

Hotch gets a phone call. "Yes ma'am, yes I understand, we will be there" he says then ends the call and turns to the team in front of him. "Looks like we arw the rapid response team wheels up, we meet with the police department there" he says, the team waste no time and rush out the doors.

While doing this JJ calls Will and explains tk him, being a detective he's apart of the department helping the FBI out. Once they arrive they arrange contact with the leader.

After 5 grueling hours later the snipers get a good shot at the group of men and take them out freeing the civilians trapped inside, The BAU rush in Hotch infront.

JJ is the one that finds her Daughter, they wee hiding in the dinosaur exhibition in between a Trex and display cabinet.

Y/N and B/F/N had been playing I spy while waiting, as the door opens they freeze, holding their hands over each others mouth to keep quiet.

As they door the footsteps get louder and JJ appears in their vision, suddenly Y/N was jumping at her Mum sobbing loudly as JJ holds her tightly.

She then talks into her radio. "I found them hotch, they are safe" she says sniffling and holding her arm out to Y/Ns best friend to instantly runs into her arms.

Both girls cry happy to be safe, JJ and her group walk the two girls out of the museum, B/F/N spots her parents runs off leaving JJ and Y/N to find Will.

The man had been pacing back nad forth waiting for his wife and daughter to come out, when he spots them he runs over almost knocking them over as he holds them kissing his wife and daughter on the head holding them.

"Your safe now darlin' don't worry we aren't letting you out of our sight for a while now" mutters the man getting a laugh out of his family.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the late I've been busy with a project fir class and haven't had time to write these oneshots.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1260

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x daughter!reader #mother daughter fluff #jennifer jareau x daughter reader #jennifer jareau x child reader #jennifer jareau #will lamontagne x daughter reader #will lamontagne #hostage situation

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Note

do you think hostage reader would get addicted to anal bc of könig.... like all she would think about all day is his cock calls deep in her little ass?

She is definitely traumatized enough to enjoy the comfort of sex with her captor. For her, she wasn't really rescued - she just pleases only one guy instead of being in danger from a group of terrorists. Konig is gentle with her, trying to get her to believe this is all consensual and she is fine, she is his little girlfriend! He is getting addicted to the feeling of your ass squeezing him( it's very hard to focus whenever you're around, and you are not helping!! Wearing booty shorts, ignoring bras, and trying to get him in your pants constantly because this is the only thing that calms you down now!! You're sleeping with a plug set firmly in your butt, you constantly grind your ass against his crotch because you need him!! You can't sleep without his cock, you're too silly and needy now( You just feel so empty without him, it genuinely crushes you( poor thing, he now has to implement toys in your sex life because sometimes he wants to slide his cock in your warm, tender pussy, but you whine about your ass feeling lonely( poor thing, you are playing with your ass as he slides in your folds, making a mess out of your pussy because you just need to be filled everywhere! Konig had to call for some assistance - Krueger and his fat cock constantly filling you up, taking this dumb hostage lady as she deserves to be filled!

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #hostage!reader

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gaycragula · 17 hours

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Hello there

Please could i request a child male reader (around 9-12, maybe younger idk you can choose) x 141. Platonic obv. Reader is being held hostage for reasons and they have to go on a rescue mission. When reader is saved he’s scared of them all except ghost who he just clings onto LMAO

cheers mate 🙏

Lost and Found

Pairing: 141 x Child Male Reader (Platonic!!!!) Warning(s): Heavy implication of parent death, politician family, child reader, locked in a basement, he gets fed i promise, i have no idea how the military works, angst? Word Count: 2069 Masterlist

The walls were an ugly, cracks running along them, and you’re sure there was mold growing in one of the corners. The only light in the room was a small lightbulb in the center of the room that was rarely left on. The only door leading out of the room was locked from the outside. You’re not sure you exactly wanted to leave the room. Not with the heavy thumps of feet that stomped through the first floor of the home.

It was a nice summer day when it happened. You’d just finished a nice dinner with your parents when the sirens began to blare. The sound cut your ears and you covered your ears, trying to block out the noise. You were whisked out of your chair by your dad before you could get up yourself.

Hushed words were shared between your parents as they rushed through the home to the basement. Your father’s grip was tight on you as he toted you down the stairs, your mother right on his heels.

Dad set you down in a corner, trying to keep you out of direct sight of the stairs. He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, your mother doing the same.

“Be good and stay here,” your mom whispers, giving you a pained smile. Her lip quivered as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Mom and Dad love you. We always will.”

. Then, they left you, footsteps receding back up the stairs into the home. You heard the door shut and a silent darkness covered you. The silence only lasted for a moment.

Something crashed upstairs and loud bangs made you cover your ears again. You curled further into the corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible. More crashing and something heavy hitting the ground sounded before it fell silent again. It was over… right?

The basement door slammed open and you gave a full body flinch. A flurry of steps rocketed down the stairs. Way too many to be just your parents.

Five or six men came into your sightline. Each of them looked like they were armed to the teeth and it sent a jolt of fear through you. These men just ran through your house. Where your parents were. Where were your parents?

They scoured the basement, flashlights leading their guns as they searched. For what? You weren’t quite sure but you hoped they would just look over you. The fear surging through your body was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe, each breath fighting to force its way out silently. You tried to stay hidden for as long as possible but their flashlights soon exposed you.

They said something you couldn’t understand before moving on and returning upstairs when they finished. You heard the faint click of the lock to the basement and you were left in the basement by yourself again. You tried to fight the tears that began falling down your cheeks as you curled in on yourself. It wasn’t a very long fight and your face soon became wet with your tears. It hit you then that you’d probably never see your parents again.

It had been a week since it had happened. The men would leave food for you at the top of the stairs. You spent the majority of your days sitting under the light in the room, playing whatever you could find. Trying to distract your mind. You were suddenly happy your parents kept a chunk of toys down in the basement for storage.

Totes of toy cars that you pretended to race with, some toy dinosaurs you’d gotten years ago, left forgotten in the basement until now. There were planks of wood you’d dragged over that you drew on with some chalk your parents kept down there. The chalk worked well on the walls as well.

Drawings littered the small walls of the basement. Cars and dinosaurs littered the floor. Your house.. Your home, your family. Where did it all go?

You’ve tried to talk to the men on multiple occasions but they only either looked at you with disdain or spoke in a language you couldn’t understand.

On the eighth day of the occupation, you heard those loud bangs and the shouts of men again. You started crying again, you didn’t even have a chance to try to stop it as you scrambled back into a corner in the room again, hopefully out of sight. Out of mind.

It felt like ages before the house fell silent again. You heard the doorknob wiggle, muffled voices coming from the otherside. Light filtered into the basement as the door creaked open. “After you, Sergeant,” a gruff voice huffs, a hint of teasing to the tone.

A short laugh followed the words before steps were coming down the stairs again, flashlights dancing over the walls as they descended. “Ohhhh hell, look at this, LT,” a second voice whispers, a light lingering on the drawings on the wall. Silence fell again as the sound of more boots started down the stairs, flashlights whipping around the room before one fell on your form.

—-----------------------

Clearing the home was easy. The bastards inside weren’t expecting an attack for a while. A home far outside any city line would surely work as a temporary base, right?

They thought so at least. So when the Scotsman barged through the door followed by six others, the occupants weren’t prepared. The firefight was short. The men inside scrambling to get to their weapons as fast as possible.

It was Roach who’d noticed the door to the basement, calling over the rest of the team. “What d’ya thinks down there?” Soap chuckles as Ghost takes a hand at picking the lock. “More guys? Prisoners they been keepin’?”

“If I had to take a guess, probably prisoners. Family who lived here was big in the political field here. Probably kept them as hostages for ransom,” Price says, gesturing for two of the guys to stand guard at the front and back doors.

The door clicked open and slowly swung open with a nasty creak. “After you, Sergeant,” Ghost huffs, nudging the Scotsman forward. Soap let out a short laugh before starting into the dimly lit basement. Ghost close behind him. Soap’s flashlight scanned the floors and walls. He noticed dinosaurs and cars littering the floor around the bottom of the stairs. He initially thought nothing of it. They knew a young kid lived here.

He was almost to the bottom as his light scanned over a big drawing of a home and a family of three drawn in chalk.

He felt his heart drop at the image. Soap was no master in chalk or anything, but the drawing looked pretty new. “Ohhh hell, look at this LT,” he says, nudging the other. Ghost went rigid for a second before gesturing back up the stairs for the other three to come down quickly.

Flashlights scoured the basement, Soap wandering towards the darkest part of the basement. His light danced over the stone floor before the body of a little boy was illuminated.

“Over here,” Soap calls out, almost missing the way the kid jerked in response to his words. Soap handed Price his gun before crouching down next to the boy. Your eyes were locked onto him, tear stains evident on your cheeks and fear clouding your eyes. “We’re here to help ya,” Soap says, trying to offer his hand to you.

“Back off the kid, Soap,” Ghost mutters. “He’s scared shitless.”

Soap let out a quiet, barely audible sigh as he stood back up and stepped back to join the rest of his team.

Your eyes shot from man to man. Your breath was heavy in your chest and you could hear yourself wheezing because of it. “Where are my parents?” You almost sobbed. Your voice was hoarse, throat tight as you waited for an answer.

The men felt their hearts drop at the pure pain in your voice. This kid, no older than 11 or 12 had his life turned upside down in a matter of fifteen minutes just a week ago.

It was Ghost who made the first, well technically second, advance towards you, much to the surprise of the rest of the team. Just as surprising was the way you sat up to be face to face with him as he crouched down.

He pulled a small picture out of pocket and handed it to you. It was a picture of your parents and yourself that you’d never seen before. “I don’t know where your parents are, but I do know that if you remain here, you’ll never find them,” Ghost spoke lowly. Just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded in understanding, shoving the picture in your pocket as Ghost stood up. He went to turn back to the team but paused when your hand grabbed his. You avoided his gaze when he looked back at you but didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he picked you up and maneuvered you onto his back.

“Thank you,” you mumble, laying your head down on his back.

Ghost turned towards his team who were all gawking at the scene before them. “Get goin’ and quit starin’ at me like that,” he huffs, nodding towards the stairs before turning to speak to Roach, Gaz, and Soap. “Get the kid some clothes and we’re gettin’ out of here.”

“Aye, L.T,” Soap almost stutters, pushing Roach and Gaz towards the stairs. Price chuckled to himself before heading up the stairs after the three, rounding up the other two that he’d stationed up there.

“What’s your name?” Ghost hears you ask quietly.

“They call me Ghost,” the man answers as he heads up the stairs. He felt you nod against his back and you fell silent for a moment. “What’s your name?”

You tell him your name, which he already knew but he wasn’t going to tell you that. That started a short and quiet conversation between the two of you. You asked how long he’d been in the military, where he was from, what his family was like and Ghost answered you and asked you the same questions in return.

It was a stark contrast to what the 141 was used to. Ghost was generally quiet on these kinds of missions. “It’s gotta be the kid,” Gaz whispers to Soap who nods in agreement.

“Yeah but what about this kid is different from others we’ve found?” Soap whispers back, rubbing his jaw as he watched you and Ghost interact. Gaz shrugged in response before Roach chimed in.

“Maybe he reminds him of a family member? Younger brother or nephew?” Roach suggests and it was like a lightbulb went off in the other two’s heads.

“That’s gotta be it,” Soap nods. “Does anyone know anythin’ ‘bout his family?”

Gaz and Roach shake their heads and Soap sighs. He opened his mouth to say something else, stopping when he saw Ghost shoot a look over his shoulder at him.

“Quit chattin’. Be on guard. We’re still in hostile territory,” Price mutters, ignoring the noise of complaint the three made before begrudgingly doing what they were told.

It was your first time on an aircraft. You were glued to Ghost’s side, eyes locked on the floor in front of you. Soap had tried to get your attention a couple times to no avail. If you did make eye contact with him, you were quick to look away as quick as possible.

The others didn’t have much luck either. Roach had tried to speak to you while Ghost was carrying you and all you’d done was bury your face into the fabric of Ghost’s shirt.

Price had been the most outward about it, asking to actually carry you so give Ghost a break. That was the only time you’d spoken to anyone besides Ghost. “No,” was all that came from your mouth as you shook your head. Ghost had chuckled and told Price he was good to carry you the whole way.

Ghost had given you his hand to basically ‘play’ with. You braided his fingers, bending them and whatever else you could do to keep your mind calm. The rest of the team couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces at the sight.

Who would’ve guessed. The big bad Ghost had actually a big softie.

#kid reader #kid male reader #male reader #reader #call of duty #soap cod #ghost cod #roach cod #captain john price #gaz cod #extra unnamed characters #parent death #heavily implied #hostage situation #fluff #angst question mark #angst #yippee im working on requests that are like a year old

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quinncupine · 7 months

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So glad your request are open I love your writing! Here’s a request for you, Deku x fem reader where he’s out on patrol and calls his s/o to check up on her and she doesn’t answer, so he goes home and and sees someone holding the reader hostage and he saves her. Protective worried Izuku wins my heart every time lol

I definitely got a little carried away with this one. This request was a bit similar to the last one, so I took a few liberties, but I hope you'll enjoy it all the same!

Failsafe

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Female Reader

Word count: ~7,600

Warnings: Blood, mild language, guns, explosvies, violence

MASTERLIST

The phone buzzed for a second time in his pocket. With a distracted sigh, he pulled it out, only getting a momentary glance at the caller's I.D. Your picture lit up the screen, and he couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the corners of his lips. He moved to answer it, but someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Deku, the negotiator just finished the call." Detective Tsukauchi said with a grim look. "Dynamight just arrived as well."

Izuku glanced back down at the phone and declined the call with a promise to call you back once this situation had been handled.

The command center that had been hastily assembled outside of the museum buzzed with activity. Officers had scattered about, all running orders and securing the perimeter of the increasing amount of curious onlookers. Evening had set upon them, bathing the area in golden rays blended with the flashing lights of the nearby cruisers.

Both men headed towards the back of a S.W.A.T. vehicle where Dynamight stood, grumbling about something to a man right outside the truck.

"Dynamight!" Deku called to his old friend as they approached, "It's good to see you! We'll not under these conditions, I suppose."

Hearing his name on familiar lips, he tensed, and turned to glare at the bright beam of a smile being shot his way. "Of course, you'd be here," was his apparent greeting.

"I'm glad you're here," Tsukauchi said to the feisty hero with a nod. "I'm sure you've been briefed on the situation at hand."

"Yeah, a bunch of rich ditz's got themselves kidnapped during their own fundraiser." He snipped, crossing his arms. "The idiots robbing the joint made a mistake during their little heist and decided to make things worse."

Tsukauchi cleared his throat. "Um, well, yes I suppose you could put it that way." Then he turned his attention to the man Katsuki had been talking to earlier. "This is Agent DeLuca. He's our chief negotiator tonight. He'll fill you in on the rest."

"Right," the older man nodded, looking between the three of them, "I've made contact with their leader. He didn't have much to say except for a list of outrageous demands."

"Outrageous?" Izuku asked, curious.

"Yeah," the man chuckled before turning serious. "They want a helicopter landed on that roof," he pointed to the museum, "five fresh pizza's waiting in said helicopter, along with four crates of top shelf sake. They want it all within twenty-eight minutes, or they'll execute their first hostage. And by my count, we have twenty-four minutes left."

"Pizza and booze?" Katuski scoffed. "What're they playin' at?"

"Twenty-eight minutes is a pretty specific timeframe." Izuku cocked his head. "And with those kind of demands It almost seems like they're waiting for something. Stalling."

The phone in his pocket buzzed again but this time he simply reached in and turned it off, mind swirling with possible theories. They had to be aiming toward a bigger goal here. What weren't they seeing?

"Do we have eyes and ears inside?" He peeked into the truck where a wall of screens shone through.

"We managed to patch through to the security system, but they've been hacked. They're just playing the same loop on repeat. We do have a specialist currently working on overriding it, but that's gonna take time." The detective rubbed his head while he explained. "From what we can gather, they still have roughly 18 guests and staff held hostage."

"And that quirk barrier is preventing anyone from getting in," Izuku murmured, examining the building. It emitted a faint purple aura. "I bet holding that up takes a lot of stamina. That could be why they were on such a specific time frame."

"Our men tried to get through." Tsukauchi frowned. "Anyone who touched that thing ended up numb from the shock. That's why you two are here. It might be possible to break through with your quirks. The only problem is alerting the captors."

"They said they'd start shooting the moment anyone stepped foot in that building. Agent DeLuca explained. "At the moment, we're in a deadly stalemate."

Tsukauchi's phone rang, and he excused himself.

Izuku pinched his bottom lip in thought as he faced the building. There were a few ways they could go about this. With Dynamight here, it should make things a little easier. However, he needed to be sure to keep the lives of the civilians as his first priority. So maybe if he-

"Deku," Tsukauchi grabbed his shoulder, pulling him from his ruminations. "Your wife is calling."

He blinked. You were calling again. When he instinctively reached into his pocket wondering how the detective new that, he paused, finally noticing the phone in his hand. Then he noticed the deep-set frown on his face.

A million questions scrambled through his head, but he locked them down in favor of taking the phone. "Hey, is everything alright?"

"Deku, listen closely," you said quietly. Your voice didn't sound right. A slightly slurred warbled edge.

had the baby hairs on his neck on end. "You're going to…to let the men in the museum leave unscathed. You will not pursue. Do this, and everyone gets -" You hitched your breath "- everyone gets to live."

A lingering silence pressed between the two of you. Your labored breaths a loud echo to his ears. It was wrong. So very wrong.

"Are you hurt?" He finally spoke, locking eyes with a concerned detective.

A shuddered sob answered him. It locked his heart in a vice grip to hear you so frightened. So vulnerable. How long had you been like that? How many calls did you try to make to him, and he simply ignored them all? Right when you needed him most. An equal flood of guilt and rage filled his veins. He could feel the sparks of his quirk begging to be let out in the wake of his anger, but he had to reel it in for your sake.

Behind your erratic panic, he could hear it.

The faint puffs of air around your own tattered breaths. Someone was there. Someone was there with you. And if he didn't act carefully, your life would be on the line.

"You have tw-twenty minutes to either s-save the innocent people in that building or come f-find me. There's not…there's not enough time to do both. If not…" you faltered before taking in a sharp drag of air and screaming. "Don't do it, Izuku! Save them! It's a trap. There's a-"

The call abruptly ended.

He stared at the screen. Too many conflicting emotions were battling for control to think clearly. Someone, a villain, had taken you. That much he was certain. There were more men than those five stuck in the museum. But it didn't add up. Even if there was someone from this crew working from the outside, there would simply not be enough time to plan something like this on the spot. Unless…unless it had been orchestrated from the start.

"Deku!" Katsuki snatched the phone out of his hands with an annoyed growl. "Get your head out of your ass. What was that about? You sayin' there's more of these losers?"

Izuku flinched at his words, not realizing he'd been mumbling.

"It's-she…they-" he locked eyes with Katsuki, "-they have her."

He straightened, glancing between the detective and Izuku. "Explain."

And so he did.

A nervous energy he couldn't quite tamper down ran rampant through his body. He itched to just take off and leave to go find you right then and there. But there was more to this than they realized, and if he ran headlong without forethought, it could put not just you but the other hostages in danger.

"That bastard!" Katsuki snapped. "They want to divide our forces. They think they can escape that way."

Yes, Izuku figured as much, but it still didn't change the fact that you were in some slimy villain's hand. He'd already tracked your location from the phone. It pinged from home, but whether you were still with it was up in the air. Those calls he'd missed seemed to be mocking him now.

He couldn't forgive himself for that.

You were calling for help.

You were calling for help, and he didn't answer.

You were calling for help, and he didn't come the one time you truly needed him.

What kind of lousy hero was he?

"Stop that," Katsuki slapped him upside the head, non to gentle either. "I know what you're thinking idiot. This isn't your fault. You just happened to be their target."

"What?" He asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"If they actually put a few braincells together to plan this thing, then it would make sense to have a backup plan. A failsafe of sorts." He tossed a glare towards the building before focusing back on Izuku. "They must've known your route. They must've planned for you to be in the area. What better way to take you out of the equation than to create your own hostage situation? Draw the heroes away."

"I believe Dynamight's got the right idea. They have more men involved than we thought. We'll need to revise our plan." Tsukauchi turned to relay this new information to the command tent.

"We're wasting time." Izuku turned to Katsuki, eyes wide and almost pleading. "I need to go. We're on a time limit. Whatever he has planned….I have to save her."

"You don't think I know that?" He scoffed. "I can handle things here easily. I bet those dumbasses didn't expect me to show up. My route doesn't fall into this sector."

Izuku nodded, grateful that he had arrived, then paused. "Why are you here?"

"Because I had to track down that bastard mugger that managed to escape through here. And if you thought I'd let you steal my crook, then you're dead wrong." He puffed up, daring Izuku to challenge him.

"First time a mugging actually worked in our favor then." He chuckled ironically and grabbed Katsuki's shoulder, his small smile slipping. "Thank you. I'll radio you as soon as I get her back."

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged off his hand and shooed him away. "Now get out of here before I have to show you up again."

"Wait, Deku," Tsukauchi jogged back over, "I'm coming with you."

"I appreciate it, but I'm faster airborne." Izuku explained, impatience rearing itself in the form of a harried sigh.

"I know, but you're here under our jurisdiction. This kidnapping falls under that. I'm coming." He pulled out his keys and headed towards his car. "We can't rush into this without our own plan. Dynamight can handle things on this end, but i'm coming as backup. There are too many lives at stake here. If you barge in there with quirks blazing and emotions clouding your judgment, then it could spook the boss into doing something we'd all regret."

Logically, Izuku knew this. He did. But he also felt that overstored anger directing itself towards the detective. Izuku could handle a hostage situation. He's handled them before, and he most likely will have to handle them again. Then the rational side to his brain told him it would be good to have backup in case things did end up going wrong. Regardless, he couldn't waste any more time by arguing, so he simply nodded and got in the car.

The moment Tsukauchi started the car, he peeled out past the gathered crowd, straight towards Izuku's home. The same home he shared with you.

The house was silent aside from the low buzz of the television in the other room. It played some show Izuku had been watching earlier before he left for his evening patrol. A hero documentary he's made you watch hundreds of times already. You absentmindedly listened to it as you cooked dinner, making sure to make leftovers for him to reheat once he returned from work.

After making a plate for yourself and storing some in the fridge for him, you dumped everything in the sink for a soak with the intent to come back later to clean. The meal smelled good if your rumbling stomach had anything to say about it. Washing up your hands, you took your plate into the dining room where you could finish watching the show.

On the way there, the lights flickered overhead before the power went out. You paused, staring around in the darkness to see if it would come back on. With the television off, the lifelessness seem quite foreboding as you stood all alone. Left in the quiet of the apartment, you set the plate down and headed into the living room where your phone sat on the coffee table. A quick call to the power company should clear this up.

When you stepped into the living room, using muscle memory to feel your way to the coffee table, the lights suddenly flickered back to life. You blinked rapidly to readjust your eyes as light flooded your vision. Glancing around the empty room, you wondered what had made the power surge like that.

"Weird," you whispered to yourself as you picked up the remote to turn the television back on.

One look at the flatscreen, and you gasped, dropping the remote. A dark, murky shape loomed behind you in the reflection, and before you even had time to react, a sweaty hand wrapped around your mouth and pulled you right off your feet.

You were slammed down into the carpet with a hard smack to your side. The attacker didn't give you much reprieve as you were hoisted back up and thrown onto the coffee table, smashing a vase full of flowers and knocking everything off as he dragged you across the wood surface.

It took a few seconds for your brain to pick up on what happened, and you shoved your legs under his arms and kicked as hard as you could in the groin. He yelped and let go, stumbling back into the couch, clutching himself.

That defense only bought you a limited amount of time. You scrambled off the table and landed on your knees, still a bit disoriented. The phone had landed underneath it, undamaged, in a stroke of luck. Dropping to your stomach, you reached under and nabbed the device.

You knew exactly who to call.

The intruder's hands latched onto your ankle just as you gripped the phone. He pulled your leg so hard you were sure something popped out of its socket. You screamed and twisted over, kicking at him wildly.

He didn't bother trying to hide his face. The man towered over you. He sported a neatly trimmed silver beard with matching square eyes that drilled an icy glare into your own.

"Stop fucking moving!" He growled as you kicked his knee and he doubled over, releasing you.

"Get away!" you screamed out, scurrying to your feet and dashing around the couch in an effort to make it to the door. "Help!" With the phone in your hands, you dialed in the number. He could respond faster than any police. And you would just feel better hearing his voice.

The phone rang twice before it disconnected. There wasn't much time to think about it as you made it to the door. You turned the knob, but a much larger hand snatched your wrist at the same time. The door slammed shut along with your hope.

He towered over you for a terrifying moment before he rammed you into the door. Your body dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks. Pain seared up against your spine where you had impacted.

The phone landed out of reach, corner of the screen smashed. You just prayed it would work.

Still disoriented, you didn't react much when his burly hands seized your throat and easily lifted you off the floor. Panic set in. You didn't even realize what had happened until it was too late. When it did catch back up, you scratched anything you could reach in an exhausted effort to release the pressure on your neck. The only sounds that managed to escape were wheezing gasps that held no form.

Regardless of how this scenario ended, you knew it wouldn't end well for you. This man had strength on his side. Fighting him would be a mistake, so you had to figure out a way to escape. Or, at the very least, call for help. Unless you could reach your phone, you were screwed.

Slippered feet struggled to try to pry him off you. His fingers only seemed to tighten further. Black ebbed at the corners of your vision, and pain blossomed up your head. Thinking, let alone, fighting seemed nearly impossible.

As your swirling vision dimmed, your foot managed to connect with his stomach. You dug your heel in as hard as you could. The fingers around your neck loosened slightly, and the only thing you could think to do was bite down on his hand.

He yelped and threw you against the door where you slumped forward onto your knees, gasping for air. The phone sat within reach, but first you swung out, and sucker punched him right where it hurts most for a second time. He roared and fell backward.

You used the opportunity to dive for your phone and redial Izuku's number, praying he would answer quickly. With a tight grip on the phone, you launched to your feet, swaying dangerously as you stumbled for balance. That hit to your head did more damage than you thought. You were almost sure you had a concussion.

Turning to the door, you glanced down and your heart sunk. It had gone to voicemail again. What was happening? He always answered.

"You're not going anywhere!" He yelled, staggering back to his feet.

Shit. You couldn’t think clearly and wasted too much time stumbling around. Now, he stood between you and the door, giving you quite the death glare.

"Please, just take whatever you want!" you tensed as he stepped closer. "Just…please just let me go."

"That's kinda hard when it's you that I need, now ain't it sweetheart?" He sneered, grabbing hold of the collar of your shirt and twisting you around into a headlock. "Now come on, we've got a schedule to keep."

He squeezed hard, forcing you to shuffle forward, away from the door. He wanted to keep you here? Why? If this had been kidnapping, you were sure he would've taken you somewhere else. Why keep you here unless… Actually, you didn't want to think of those implications.

"Sit," he ordered, not giving you much choice as he shoved you into one of the dining room chairs.

You could try to run again, but you doubted you'd get very far before he caught up to you. And you weren't too keen on figuring out if he really wanted to keep you alive or not. He already looked pissed off as it was.

"What do you want?" you asked, hating how wobbly your voice sounded.

"I want you to make a call," he said, placing a hand on the back of the chair and the table, essentially trapping you between them, "to that little hero of yours."

He wanted you to call Izuku? That was strange. Usually, villains try to steer clear of heroes, not invite them to their crimes. He must have some plan to try to lure Izuku here to do who knows what. As much as you wanted him to come, you also didn't want to walk him right into a trap.

You steeled your nerves and glared up at him. "No."

"Oh, so you wanna play hero now, do ya?" He grinned. "Think you're ready to play in the big leagues, huh? Let's see if ya are!"

His hand moved too quickly. You nearly tumbled out of the chair as his palm struck your cheek. Aching streaks of pain weaved across your stinging skin.

"Don't test me." He leaned so close you could smell the tobacco on his breath. "You're gonna want to make that call, sweetheart, trust me."

He leaned across the table and dragged a large duffle bag into view. How long that had been sitting there, you weren't sure. You actually weren't even sure how he got into the locked apartment in the first place. It seemed a little late to worry about that now, though. With a sadistic smirk, he unzipped the bag and let you have a peek inside. It nearly made your heart stop.

"Now," He pulled out a stack of notecards from his coat and forced them into your hands. "Your job is simple. All you have to do is read these cards. Simple enough, eh?"

As you scanned the cards, your stomach flipped. Did he really expect you to read this? You were too distracted to see him pull out your phone until he grabbed your wrist and used your thumb to unlock it. He put it on speaker as the phone rang. It barely rang once before it went straight to voicemail for a third time. You were starting to worry Izuku had been hurt and unable to answer somehow.

"Hmm," the villain stared at the phone thoughtfully. "Guess he doesn't care so much about ya, huh?"

"Don't say that! You don't know anything about him!" You spit out, then bit your tongue, knowing you shouldn't stoop to his barbs.

"Well, I know he's too busy to answer ya darlin." He chuckled and dialed in a new number. "I'm sure the detective will be more willing to talk, yeah?"

Detective? You only knew one detective. It still struck you as odd that he would call the police on himself. But with the cards and what he had stored in that bag, you were starting to understand your role in all this.

The phone rang, and this time, someone did answer. You refused to say anything. It would be too dangerous to bring him here. Not with what he had planned.

That turned out to be the wrong decision as the man reached into his coat and brought out a handgun. He used the barrel to tap the cards.

"Deku," you whispered, glaring up at the criminal.

"Y/N? It's unusual to hear from you at this hour. Are you alright?" He sounded concerned.

"I…need to speak to Deku," you blinked hard. "Please."

A notable pause hung in the air before he hesitantly spoke. "…alright."

Tsukauchi was a smart man. One of the few who you thought could hold a candle to Izuku's analytical skills. If he could already tell something was wrong, then Izuku would pick up on it immediately.

Suddenly, his voice came on and threw you for a loop. They were already together? It must have to do with whatever these cards meant. It could be the reason he didn't answer. Izuku could be caught up in a case already. But the real question is how did the man know that, let alone know you would have Tsukauchi's number.

"Hey, is everything alright?" He sounded confused with a concerned undertone.

The cards shook in your hands as you scanned them again, debating just going off script. But with that gun looming in front of your face, you wisely decided to play nice.

"Deku, listen closely," you began quietly, knowing your voice had a slight quiver he would undoubtedly pick up on. "You're going to…let the men in the museum leave unscathed. Do this and everyone gets," those next words caught in your throat, "everyone gets to live."

They were using you as some sort of ploy to try to escape whatever situation this gang had found themselves in. Everything about this was just wrong. Now, Izuku would have to worry about rescuing you while also trying to do his job. You loathed every minute of it.

"Are you hurt?" His voice, quiet and low, betrayed the calm air he tried to maintain. A characteristic tone you've heard before. Anger and frustration just barely concealed.

The fact that he knew you were in danger filled you with a sort of relief that now he could finally do something about it. He could fix this. He always managed to fix things.

You tried to answer, but only a garbled sob of mixed syllables spilled from your mouth. It took you a moment to compose yourself again as the man huffed at you, tapping the cards impatiently with his gun.

"You have tw-twenty minutes to decide." More disturbing things were written, but you needed to warn him about what kind of trap he was walking himself into. "Don't do it, Izuku! Save them! It's a trap. There's a-"

The phone crunched in half under his brute strength and he threw it against the wall. Despite your very real fear, you managed to smirk at him. In hindsight, making a man with a gun angry was probably the worst thing to do in your situation. You learned that the hard way as he twirled the gun to his other hand and with a violent swing, he whipped the side of your head, knocking you clean off your chair.

Head throbbing, you clutched the gash just above your temple. A warm, sticky trail of dark red dripped down to your cheek.

"Got a loud mouth, don't ya?" he grinned and hauled you up only to drag you across the floor and dump your ragdoll form into the middle of the living room. You couldn't hide the panic as he knelt by your face, plopping the black duffle from the table next to him. "I'll just leave ya with a little present to greet your hero with. How does that sound. A nice parting gift."

The drive couldn't have taken any longer in Izuku's opinion. Even if Tsukauchi flew down the road, he still wasn't getting there fast enough. A few times, he had been tempted to just jump out and fly the rest of the way there.

He bounced his leg impatiently, glaring out the window as the silence seemed to permeate the air around them.

"We'll get her back," Tsukauchi broke the silence first.

Izuku turned his attention back to his phone. The three missed calls from you berated him each time he looked. He willed his leg to still, but all that pent up adrenaline didn't have any other outlet to escape from.

"This is my fault," he mumbled.

"No, it's not. There's no way you could have predicted this. No one could." Tsuhauchi sighed, turning sharply onto the next street. This was a conversation he'd had with the young man on multiple occasions. He was starting to understand how All Might felt, practically raising the boy through high school. "The only people to blame are the criminals responsible. You know that as well as I do. Thinking that way is only falling into their trap."

He made a noncommittal sound, turning back to obsessing over the missed calls. The rest of the ride was made in silence. Izuku had gotten so lost in thought that he didn't realize they'd parked until Tsukauchi opened the door.

Silently cursing, he blinked back into reality and got out of the car. The two of them headed for the apartment building. Your last known location was here. Though Izuku had doubts that you'd still be here. Most kidnappers took their victims to secondary locations.

They burst through the lobby, startling a poor woman taking her dog out for a walk. She jumped out of the way as they rushed past, yelping when she saw Tsukauchi's drawn gun. They paid her no mind, set on reaching their target.

Izuku took the lead. He raced up the stairs with a spark of his quirk, only stopping when he reached the right floor. Tsukauchi trailed up behind him at his fastest pace. He paused when the door came into view. Closed and undamaged. Whatever lay beyond might be an entirely different story, and it had his heart racing with fear.

"Take it slow," Tsukauchi huffed when he reached the last step. "We don't know what's waiting for us."

"I know," Izuku nodded, taking a spot in front of the door.

He signaled for the detective to take the side. Whoever was in there was sure to be expecting Izuku. He would have to act quickly. When they were in position he readied Fa-jin to break down the door with a strong kick of his leg, but the moment he lifted it, that sharp stab of Danger Sense screamed at him. He tensed and prepared to dodge whatever threat was coming his way, but when nothing came, he set his foot down, examining the door with a critical eye.

"Something's not right," he whispered, hand gently grabbing the handle.

The knob turned slowly in his hand and opened the door just slightly. Danger Sense lit up his spine once again. He drew in a sharp breath when he finally saw where the danger lay.

Opening the door any further could trigger whatever nasty surprise waited inside. He let go of the handle in favor of leaning closer to try to get a glimpse of the room. From his narrow line of sight, he didn't see anything amiss. He would need to see further somehow.

A shimmering line of wire ran across the entryway.

Trap, his mind so helpfully supplied.

"Here," Tsukauchi pulled out a small mirror with a telescopic rod attached. "Use this."

Izuku took it without question. The police had all sorts of gadgets at their disposal. He was just thankful Tsukauchi was here.

As discreetly as he could, he slipped the mirror partly into the doorframe. It gave him a full view of the living room. What he saw nearly made his racing heart stall.

The room was a mess. The coffee table had been kicked over, and the couch pushed off to the side to make room for the single dining chair plopped directly into the center of the disaster. The worst part was the person he cared for most sitting… no, tied to the chair. You were slumped forward and seemingly out cold. A gash in the side of your head trailed dark sticky blood down the side of your face and onto your shirt. Even from a distance, he could tell it was still wet. Still fresh.

You were draped in a throw blanket, which he found odd. It sent alarm bells off in his head. On the other hand, this entire situation was just one blaring alarm.

He was so close. All he needed to do was figure out a way to get to you without tripping any booby traps.

Angling the mirror down, he tracked where the nearly invisible wire led to. His eyes followed it across the floor and right up to you. It threaded under the blanket that had been wrapped across your chest. As he leaned in further to try to see you better, the door creaked slightly.

It caught your attention.

You stirred with a groan and when you looked up, he could see the duct tape sealed over your mouth. As you straightened in your seat, the blanket slipped from your shoulders.

He finally realized why the wire led to you.

"Tsukauchi," Izuku whispered, a slight tremble to his voice. "I need you to evacuate the building and…and call the bomb squad."

It took a few precious minutes, but Izuku had exited the building and now stood on the fire escape, examining the window. Another wire had been threaded around the handle. If he lifted it, it could trigger the bomb. He would need to go about this carefully.

The only good thing was that the top part of the window seemed to be unaffected. After scoping out the interior, he'd come to the conclusion that the man had fled. A smart choice. If you strap your hostage with an explosive, you don't want to be around for the aftermath. A dumb choice to target someone Izuku loved. He'd find the man later, that much he vowed. Right now, he just needed to get you as far from that bomb as possible.

He took a deep breath and in one solid strike, he shattered the top portion of the window. That startled you enough to flinch in your seat, pulling the wires taut.

"Hey, it's alright," Izuku called out softly as he navigated through the window, careful of any more surprises. "It's just me. It's Izuku."

You deflated a little, nodding to show you understood.

The moment he landed, he carefully picked his way through the room until he came face-to-face with you. Your eyes carefully tracked his movement, wary of the various strings attached to the heavy vest you were wearing. He knelt in front of the chair, cupping your bruised cheeks. At the soft contact, you squeezed your eyes shut to blink away the tears.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm right here," He kept his voice low and comforting as he offered you a small smile. "I'll get you out of this, I promise."

Then he dropped his attention down to the explosive. They had strapped you into a Kevlar vest with the clunky explosive sewn right into the fabric. The most worrisome thing was the clock. The numbers were steadily counting down.

Nearly four minutes left.

A time limit.

You did say he had twenty minutes to decide. Didn't the criminals inside the museum say something similar? They must've been working off the same clock. No wonder they gave such a specific time frame.

"Don't worry," he said, looking up when you made a muffled whine of a cry. "I've got people coming to help. People who can disarm this thing in no time." He glanced at the kitchen where you kept the knives. "I just need to get it off you first."

Your reaction caught him off guard. You wildly shook your head, careful of the wires pulling around you. He turned back to you, eyes wide, and hands held out in a pacifying gesture. You only seemed to grow more desperate, shaking your head faster.

"Hey," he laid a hand on your cheek to stop you and forced you to look in his eyes. "Okay, okay."

As you fought back your ragged breaths through your nose, he gently gripped the edges of the tape and slowly peeled it back. You winced as the tape pulled against your skin. The moment your mouth could move, you went into a panicked rant.

"You can't! You can't cut it," you cried, words jumbling over each other as you tried to push them all out at once. "There's a- a failsafe inside the vest. You cut it, and it triggers the bomb. It's the same for these wires," you eyed the wires all connected to various parts of the room. "Any of them pulls too tightly, and it explodes. But the time limit - oh my god, Izuku. It's almost up, I don't - there's no time! There's no time!"

He wrapped his scarred fingers around your chin to center your focus and shushed you before you could run out of breath. "It's going to be okay. I'm here now. I'll get you out of this." His eyes tracked over the vest again, scanning every part of it. He didn't want to tell you that the bomb squad would be at least ten more minutes. There was no time to wait for them. "I'll be right back. Trust me, I promise I'll get you out of this."

If your hands were untied, you would've reached out to stop him. Now that he had come, you were terrified of him leaving. He had a comforting presence that everyone had come to rely on as a hero. He always kept his word. If anyone could get you out of this nightmare, it would be Izuku. You just had to trust he knew what to do. Though the bomb strapped to your chest had built up a raw terror in your chest, making it hard to get even a solid breath in.

Izuku, true to his word, only disappeared for a moment before he returned, kneeling at your side with a knife. "I can disarm it."

Could he? You didn't want to doubt his skills, but you also didn't remember him ever working with bombs like this before.

"Didn't I tell you about those few weeks I spent with SWAT?" He smirked as if reading your mind. "Taught me all sorts of cool stuff." There was a hard edge to his casual tone as he pried open the front of the device to reveal the bevy of wires inside. "This was nothing compared to the kinds of stuff we did. I'll have you out in no time."

You nodded. It was about as much movement the vest would allow at the moment. You could scarcely believe a small contraption like this could be your doom in a matter of mere minutes.

"Izuku," you whispered, looking up at the ceiling as if that would put any distance from you and this death machine. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, eyes flitting up to meet yours before he refocused on the wires. "This isn't your fault."

Silence fell over the room as you absorbed that. Your fingers held a death grip on the arms of your chair, pulling against the restraints. It felt as if the room grew smaller. The beeping only seemed to be getting louder by the second. Panic had nestled itself deep in your chest, spreading throughout your body as the seconds passed.

"H-how much longer?" You dared to peer down at the clock, angling your head to try to see for yourself.

He didn't answer. You watched his fingers hover over the wires, subtly glancing at the timer but refusing to speak. In other words, not long.

"How much, Izuku?" you said again, gritting your teeth.

"Two minutes," he finally ground out. "I've almost got this figured out. I just need to make sure this one is- it should be…" he trailed off, as his finger followed where the wire connected.

Two minutes.

That wasn't a lot of time. You both knew that much.

"Izuku, I don't want you dying too. Please, just go." You warbled out, straining your head up to the ceiling again to try to stop the ebb of tears. "I don't want you dying for me."

"No one is dying tonight," Izuku chose a wire and locked eyes with you. That determination you'd grown so used to seeing cemented on his face. He looked so confident, you almost believed anything was possible. Hell, maybe it was in a world with someone as determined as him. "Are you ready?"

Drawing in a forced breath, you chewed on your lip and nodded. He hesitated for just a moment before bending the wire and cutting it with the knife. The two of you sat in complete silence, breaths held as he stared at the timer. The numbers stopped just before the minute mark, and relief sagged through his body.

"See, I told you I-" the words died on his tongue as the clock beeped twice and suddenly began counting down at double the speed. "-shit!"

"Get out of here!" You tried to shove him away with what little movement you had in the restraints, wires be damned if it meant he could still survive. "Please, save yourself! Go!"

"NO!" he pulled at the bundle of wires, muttering as his eyes darted between them. "I made a promise, and I refuse to break it! There's no way I'd ever leave you!"

He picked a wire and sliced through it. You squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper.

The beeping stopped again with eight seconds to spare.

Izuku froze, body tense as he stared at the machine, daring it to start again. After a few terrifying seconds, he looked up at you, wide-eyed and slightly shaky. He swallowed, setting his face into a more composed look as he offered you a small smile.

"It worked." He breathed out.

Those unbidden tears leaked from your eyes as you drooped your head froward with a heavy sigh of relief. All that terror that you were storing had nowhere to go. Every part of you buzzed with adrenaline. You were quite literally shaking in your socks.

"Hey," he set down the knife and found your chin. "Are you okay?"

"Still got a bomb strapped to me so 'okay' is a bit relative at the moment." You coughed a harsh chuckle out. Maybe it was the frayed nerves trying to find an outlet out of your system, but you laughed again, harder this time, your body just expelling all your emotions out in the form of near hysteric laughter.

"Uh, right," he mirrored your smile and easily unhooked all the wires connected from your vest to objects around the room. Now that the main trigger had been deactivated, these were just decorations. "I think I'll let the professionals handle this vest. They should be here any minute. But I can at least get you out of those restraints."

Using the knife, he easily tore through the tape to free your arms and legs. When you had freedom of movement again, you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him close, careful of the disarmed bomb on your chest. It was still an explosive, afterall.

"Thank you," you whispered, "thank you for not leaving.

He brushed the hair out of your face and placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "I told you, I made a promise, and I never break my promises." Then he pulled back to give you a pout. "But please, don't ever tell me to leave you like that ever again. I could never even think of doing something like that. I would never abandon you, you know that, right?"

The way he looked at you made you feel like you'd kicked a puppy. But in your mind, you just wanted to protect him, too. For the moment, though, you simply nodded and buried your face into his chest, knowing you were safe with him. That you would always be safe with him.

It took another six minutes before the squad arrived and another ten tense minutes with Izuku gripping your hand the entire time to safely remove the bomb. As soon as it slipped off, you rushed into Izuku's arms, trying to entwine yourself as deep as you could with him.

"What about the other hostages? The criminals, too?" you asked, twisting your head up to look at him. "The ones you were supposed to let go?"

"Kacchan, uh, Dynamight handled it." He assured you. "He didn't even need any help taking them down. I think they were counting on this scenario working in their favor. The hostages are safe, and the criminals are in custody."

"Even…" you pinched the fabric of his uniform between your fingers, dropping your gaze to stare at the stitchwork.

"We'll find him. I won't let him get away with this." He assured you, tightening his own hold on you. "But right now, all you need to worry about is getting some rest. Well, actually, we need to get this -" he ghosted his fingertips over the cut above your temple, "-looked at first."

"I'm fine." you waved him off.

"Yeah, you will be," he agreed, pulling you over to the medic who had set up shop on the dining table, just waiting for you. "Once we get you fixed up."

With a small sigh, you sat in one of the chairs, facing the medic. Izuku, who you still had a hold of his sleeve, moved to stand behind you.

"Are you going to leave? I mean, I guess you should. There are other people out there who need you too. And with this whole mess, I'm sure there's a lot of-"

The words were just spilling out of you now, and in the back of your mind, you realized you sounded just like Izuku. You only managed to stop when he bent over and lightly bumped his forehead against yours.

"Take a breath," he gave you a fond smirk, "I'm not going anywhere. Like I said, Kacchan handled it. The only place I need to be right now is by your side."

He stood hunched just inches from your face, and all you could do was stare into his eyes. There were so many emotions swirling through those big green irises, but the biggest one shining through was his sincerity. A solace you didn't realize you needed until just this moment. The warmth he emitted was so comfortable, and the sheer exhaustion from your ordeal had you leaning back into the chair with a tired nod.

"Okay, I trust you," you mumbled, pulling his arm down so you could hug it. "You're a really good hero, Izuku."

He blushed at the soft comment and glanced at the paramedic trying to busy herself with getting her supplies out, but even she couldn't help the little smile that played on her lips.

"She's right, you know," the medic chimed in, gently cleaning your cheek of the blood. "I'd say that was the work of a top-class hero. You should be proud."

Izuku rubbed the back of his head. Years in the field and still hearing something like that overwhelmed his heart so he decided to focus back on you. Your hands were interlocked with his and casually fiddlin with his bony fingers.

A lot that could have gone wrong tonight, and he knew he would be certain to go over every detail in full to make sure those mistakes would never happen again. Not if he was going to be a hero that could protect not just you, but everyone.

Right now, though, he put his analysis on the back burner and turned his full attention to what was most important.

You.

Taglist: @stanny-uwu @lykingart @rei165

#my hero academia #izuku midoria x reader #pro hero deku #boku no hero academia #deku x reader #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #hostage situation #guns #explosives #violence #bakugou katsuki #naomasa tsukauchi #nameless criminals #story requests

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