#abduction cw

[justplainwhump]

Arrival

Dany is brought to the facility.

Part 3 in Angel's abduction. [1 - Over] [2 - Red].

[Making Angel Masterpost]

Content / warnings: Abduction, threats, intimate whumper, noncon kissing, implied future noncon, whumper pov.

Operation Angel, Alex Nadler had baptized the latest acquisition job. Patrick didn't know their reasons - Nadler played everything close to their chest, and WRU drove a strict need-to-know policy anyway. But having seen the target stroll down the street in that pristinely white dress of hers, he couldn't deny the poetry in that designation.

It was a pleasure, working with Nadler. Their experience in planning ops didn't come from serving under the same flag that Pat and his men had once sworn on; but it was brutally efficient. And they'd all long given up serving governments, anyway.

Corporations paid better. And - Pat paused to look into the rearview mirror, remembering the smooth skin and long legs of the naked woman stuffed in the trunk - corporations were much more relaxed about rules of engagement.

"All good?", Nadler's voice sounded over the earpiece. They'd stayed behind, doing what they did best: Logistics. Nadler would make sure that bodyguard's body was dumped somewhere he'd found; the decoy's body somewhere she'd never be. They'd take care of the surveillance video to show just the right parts of her death in that white dress; they'd clean up, pay off a witness or two, plant evidence and spread liberal amounts of the target's stolen blood in that parking garage.

Beautiful, stubborn society girl Danielle Hammond would be declared dead, even before she'd fully realized what was coming for her.

And if they dropped her off at the facility as ordered, Pat and his comrades would be on the team that got to break her in. 'Preparation protocol', WRU called it. Sanitized term for some highly objectionable work. Undeniably hot though.

Pat couldn't be any less interested in fucking a meek and braindead pet. But the target of an acquisition mission, while they still processed, while they struggled, while they understood, what they were about to lose? It was the best wind-down he could imagine. And if they looked like Danielle Hammond did? Even better. Girl was his type for sure.

Yeah. Corporations were much better than governments.

With a content sigh, Pat leaned back in the driver's seat and checked the navigation system. Only a few klicks left to go. His gun was next to him on the passenger sheet, hidden under his jacket, two cars with his comrades following them as back-up. This mission wouldn't need either. Nobody had caught up on them. Alex had made sure the police were looking at all the wrong places.

Pat tapped his headset with one finger. "Yup. All good," he confirmed, allowing himself a wide smile. "Excellent, actually."

-

When Pat opened the trunk with a cheerful whistle on his lips, the target was barely conscious. He tossed his mask and gear onto the plastic tarp next to her, before he grabbed a fistful of her blond hair to pull her upright to her knees.

She yelped, bucked under his hold, giving him a lovely display of the way her lithe body could curve.

"We've arrived, sweetheart," he said. "WRU Preprocessing Facility C1. The last place you'll remember."

"I'm not -", she whimpered, with a stubborn edge to her voice, eyes still half closed "- not anyone's fucking sweetheart."

Pathetic. Adorable.

"Wrong," Pat playfully slapped her bloodied cheek with his free hand. She hissed at him, weakly lifted her bound hands to push him away. He just grabbed her hair faster instead, leaned in closer over her shape in the trunk, hisvoice dropping to a whisper. "You're going to be everyone's sweetheart. First mine. Then my team's. And then every single handler's this dirty facility has to offer."

"You… you can't." Her breathing was shallow. "I'm - My father is Stuart Hammond, he-"

"Wrong again," Pat said patiently, letting his hand run down the side of her body and explore her curves. "Ms Hammond is dead. You? You're a nameless, powerless, empty - however, very nicely shaped - body, with delusions of personhood. You're 002238. And you're free for the taking."

She winced, when his hand cupped her cute boob, thumb playing with her nipple. There was no way of her fighting him off, bound as she was, feeble from blood loss. He knew it. And she knew it, too. She didn't even try. Pat smirked, watching her nipple perk up in reaction to his attention.

Tears gathered in his target's dark honey eyes. "Please, no," she whispered. "No."

His hand in her hair settled on the back of her head, forced her face up towards him. "Yes." He pulled her in for a kiss.

She let him. To his own surprise, her lips parted for him, a soft invitation, and then she kissed him back, that sweet, naked body pressing closer into his.

Gosh, she felt fantastic.

"You can get so much more," she whispered against his mouth, her breath a soft tingle on his skin. "Take me out of here, I'll make you a rich man, I'll let you fuck me, I'll play along, give you the time of your life." Her eyes seemed darker than before, when she met his gaze, something like a challenge shining in them. "It's more fun when you don't have to share."

Pat thought about it for a hot second. Shoving her back down into the trunk, slamming the hood shut over her once more, speeding off, taking her with him for himself. To some beach, maybe, just the two of them, her on top of him, riding him in front of a cinematic sunset.

She was a millionaire in her own right, she'd be good for a decent ransom - and for a more than decent fuck.

"You are undeniably hot, Danielle" he said softly, raising a hand to brush away a speck of Mueller's blood on her cheek with his thumb. "But I'm afraid not hot enough to risk being the next guy having his brain spattered all over you."

She flinched in his arms, tried to pull away, disappointment and something almost like grief flaring up in her gaze. Pat didn't let her.

"Shhh." He gently wiped his bloody thumb over her trembling lip, admiring how well the red suited her. "Don't worry, 238. You'll make me rich and well fucked anyway." He pressed a kiss on her lips again.

This time, she didn't kiss back.

---

[Next]

-

Tag list: @whumplr-reader @there-will-always-be-blood @whimpers-and-whumpers @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606

[plasmicthoughts]

olivia rodrigo, lesbian, woman, she/her. ♡ now entering the apartment building is deidre flores, a twenty-one year old who is currently a true crime creator & advocator. netizens have said they seem timid but others have said they’re benevolent ! gossip aside, we’re sure they’re bound to be a fan favorite !

content warnings include abduction, trauma, & abuse.

basics

Name: Deidre Dahlia Flores

Nickname/s: Deedee

Preferred name/s: Deidre

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 21

Birthday: December 17th

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Sexuality: Lesbian

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: True crime creator & advocator

Hometown: Santa Monica, California

Accent: American (Olivia Rodrigo vc)

backstory

Deidre grew up in a dance-focused household, with her mother as a ballet teacher, which instilled in her a passion for dance from an early age.

At just seven years old, she and three other girls from her dance troupe were kidnapped by a competition head, enduring a harrowing experience before being rescued.

The trauma from the abduction kept her out of dance for several years as she struggled to cope with the aftermath.

At ten, her family moved to South Korea for her mother's job opportunity as a choreographer, hoping for a fresh start.

Deidre faced significant dehumanization as her case was publicized; even though their identities were protected, the trauma resurfaced in her teenage years when evidence of her identity leaked.

The revelation at school was devastating, leading to bullying and isolation, which deepened her desire to help others in similar situations.

This experience fueled her passion for advocacy, and she began working to support victims of crimes through awareness and education.

Eventually, she channeled her experiences into creating an ethical true crime podcast and YouTube channel, focusing on the stories of victims and their families.

With the support of her small community, Deidre found the strength to return to dance, reclaiming a part of her identity that had been lost.

Seeking connection and healing, she applied to join the web series Seoulmates to find a supportive network and explore new friendships after her trauma stunted her social interactions.

Through her podcast and dance, Deidre aims to empower others, reminding them that they are not defined by their trauma but by their resilience and courage.

personality & more

Deidre is compassionate and deeply empathetic, often putting herself in others' shoes to understand their struggles.

She possesses a strong sense of justice and is driven to advocate for victims' rights and awareness.

Creative and articulate, she excels in storytelling, both in dance and through her podcasting.

Deidre is resilient, demonstrating remarkable strength in overcoming her past trauma and using it to fuel her passions.

She has a strong moral compass, prioritizing ethical practices in her true crime content to honor victims' stories.

A natural leader, she inspires others in her community to speak out and support one another.

Despite her past, she maintains a playful and light-hearted side, often using humor to cope with difficult topics.

Deidre values authenticity and encourages open conversations about mental health and trauma.

She has a passion for learning, often exploring new topics related to crime, justice, and advocacy.

Her experience in dance has made her disciplined and dedicated, qualities she applies to all her pursuits.

Deidre is a lover of storytelling in all forms, enjoying books, films, and podcasts that explore human experiences.

She dreams of creating a platform that not only educates but also empowers victims and advocates for systemic change.

Deidre is timid, and feels socially stunted, but she's always trying her best to live the life she once wasn't sure she'd still have.

[meganfoxrocksmyworld]

Megan Fox in Midnight in the Switchgrass.

[doublejango]

for @cruelprincae, whose muse unfortunately has certifiably the worst brother ever of all time--

-

Assisting Balekin would certainly prove to be an intriguing prospect, Vepar had no doubt, if the usurper ever actually called on him. It might be enough for this brother of his to simply be kept out of the way, of course, and that was an entertaining prospect. Although the faerie had been delivered to him unconscious, Vepar was already having a wonderful time. He knew next to nothing about these beasts. A quick check in his library didn't reveal much more than that they enjoyed 'free air.' Well, ventilation was doable, of course. His manor in the mountains had an abundance of fresh air, and was in one of the rare, cold parts of Hell. One room in particular had sturdy stone lattices to make up three of the walls--surely that would be the most appropriate place to put him?

So, he settled his new pet down on the bed in there, trying not to worry. Was this enough ventilation? A cold breeze was scouring through, but he didn't want this one to overheat... Still, temperature preference might best be left up to the creature to show him, and he wasn't entirely convinced that Balekin had been honest with his caretaking instructions. "He requires a fish-based diet if you're going to feed him solid food, but I wouldn't bother; let him choke on his own foolishness" and "the only milk he's suited for comes from cats, don't try to offer him anything else" seemed... less than sincere. But, for now, it was worth trying at least. He had sent several of his servants to obtain cat milk before even bringing this one home, and while they didn't find it exactly, they did their best: a little box of 'Kitten Milk Replacer' had been left on a nightstand, along with a glass, a straw, and a warming plate.

Perfect. Vepar got the little one tucked in under a comforter--dark blue velvet, nearly black--and touched his forehead, a trifle worried at whatever had been done to him to keep him out this long... Frowning, he sent a whisper of healing energy into the young creature, to hopefully ease any pain he might be in, and help him return to consciousness.

"Come now, little one," he murmured, talons lightly stroking at those curls. "Wake when you are ready. You will be well looked-after." Vepar stood and stepped away from the bed, stretched, and sighed as he walked over to look out the stone lattice. Magic hung heavily about his manor, all the more so now that he had a pet capable of using magic himself--although according to Balekin, his powers were a paltry thing, weak, used only for ugliness. Well, whatever they were for, Vepar would keep him safely contained here--however he raged, whatever he tried to throw against the wards, he should be secure. Nothing would ever hurt him--

And he would never be able to leave.

[susandsnell]

would you ever write a persephone retelling?

Send me an ask that says “Would you ever write…” and continue the sentence.

First of all, this is cyberbullying / I've been hollering laughing since receiving this, well done/Unfortunately, I am not a smoking hot butch construction worker

All seriousness? If I had a good enough idea for an interesting angle. I'd say the market is saturated for Persephone retellings right now, but if I felt I had an idea/perspective that could bring some new or at least refreshing way of engaging with the story, and felt motivated to follow it, I'd give it a go. For instance, if I came up with something like a Hadestown-type of jaded, hot, middle aged Persephone, or used the story as a vehicle to explore a certain setting/issue (by perhaps situating it in an interesting point in history, etc), I'd see where it took me. While I do find the mother/daughter angle personally moving (and certainly preferable to the misogynistic madness of 'rebelling against controlling smothering mom Demeter, you can only self-actualize through a big strong man that treats you like property'), I've taken your point heavily about how easily that angle can come off as venerating the idea of a daughter having to manage her mother's emotional responses over things that happened to her, but I still say there's potential. (Maybe space for complexity of a mother who adores and wants to fight for her daughter, and the contradictory feelings of loving a parent deeply while also feeling stifled by their response to your pain/transition through life stages in that it centres them and not you? Food for thought...) Where Hades is concerned, I'm only interested in the relationship if it is fully acknowledged in its complexities, if it explores how and where love and power are negotiated in sites of violence and power imbalance. I don't know that I'd necessarily be the right person or capable to tell certain stories, but it's the only iteration of their relationship I could write in good conscience.

The straightforward gender essentialist ~ooooo size difference ooo innocent little flower corrupted by darkness oooo female power fantasies are deriving all your strength from a big strong dark lonely man whose feelings matter more than your safety~ stuff can stay about a hundred million miles away though, lmao. Especially the ones that don't acknowledge the violence against women inherent to the story.

Thank you so much for asking, what a fun one! <3 hope you have a great day!!

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 A Warm Body

Oviposition CW: egg laying Monster!Reader based on an Anon❤️ from a while ago, yandere!human, reader with male and female reproductive organs

Growling in frustration, (Reader's) long claws carved into the concrete flooring of the room they were kept prisoner.

Their swollen body ached with how full they were, going mad with how desperate they were for release. As soon as they emerged from the Earth to reproduce, a human shot them with enough tranquilizers to put down a herd of elephants, which is why (Reader) now found themselves in what was essentially a concrete box, locked in by a large steel vault. (Reader) cried out in need, craving release.

The metal door spun obnoxiously, multiple mechanisms whirring as it unlocked and squealed open. The man who shot (Reader) quickly entered, shutting the door closed again behind him. There were so many things he wanted to say, an entire romantic monologue planned for the creature he had spent his entire life obsessing over, researching and hunting despite no one else believing in (Reader's) existence. But before he could open his mouth, (Reader) had him by the leg, dragging him down beneath them.

(Reader) ignored the man's happy squeaks, ripping his clothes off to find a suitable hole. His face glowed with heat, blushing as he pitifully attempted to cover up his body. But his small, human body was no match for (Reader's), effortlessly holding the man up by his hips, unfazed by his weak flailing. With his ass presented to (Reader) they couldn't help groaning, nearly bursting just from the thought of being able to mate.

They pushed the man onto their large depositor, screaming in pleasure at how snuggly he fit on them. (Reader) slid him against them, animalistic grunts bouncing off the concrete walls as they mercilessly fucked him.

His smile and incoherent babbling was cute, but (Reader) didn't really care. It didn't matter that it felt good for their abductor, that he was in complete and utter bliss. Nor did they appreciate his erect penis twitching with his building climax, about ready to cum without touching it. The only thing that mattered was coating the insides of his ass with their protective slime, forming a type of pocket to protect their eggs from his bodily functions.

Squelching sounds filled the air as he slapped into (Reader's) pelvis wetly, creating strings of fluids stretching between their bodies. (Reader) could feel that they had pumped enough nesting liquid into him, with how round he was already becoming.

The man erratically spasmed as the first egg entered his asshole, hitting his prostate on the way in. Cum hit the concrete with the next egg, off-white droplets landing pathetically by (Reader's) feet and dripping onto his own face from the doubled over position.

But (Reader) wasn't done. Eggs continued pumping into his body, brushing past the overstimulated man's sensitive spot, bringing him to tears as his post ejaculated body was overwhelmed, fucking deep into his aching hole.

He couldn't stand or run away, his legs weak from his orgasm and his body tired from the sudden bloating from his unnatural impregnation. (Reader) carefully pulled out after finishing, satisfied from laying their first brood. The man wasn't a bad host for their offspring, still smiling through his drool and tears. His full body was cradled against (Reader's) protectively, feeling content with the new life laid inside of him.

(Reader) may have only needed a warm body, but they didn't mind using this one for the rest of their mating needs ❤️

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Sinking Into Your Arms

Masterlist

Cw!: yandere!Scaramouche, possessive behavior, (brief) drowning/suffocation, abduction, (somewhat) suggestive. Tags: merman scaramouche, modern fantasy au, established relationship, gn!reader, open ending. Summary: Scaramouche has finally gotten tired of waiting in one place for you to come back to him.

☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆

You sighed heavily as you walked along the coast, breathing in the salty breeze. Your parents called you back during your vacation, just to rush you to get married. You weren't even that old! They had been nagging you day by day, even on your regular phone calls. Your parents wouldn't understand that you had been dating someone already, even if he can't quite go to meet them.

Scaramouche swam up to the surface the moment he felt your presence. You were gone for way too long! His eyes lit up at the sight of you wearing the necklace he gave you but acted as if he did not care one bit. "Finally care to come back, pipsqueak?," he huffed while taking out a small bracelet designed to your taste. "It doesn't matter. How long are you going to stay this time?"

You looked at him guiltily. You felt horrible for choosing an inland city, making it even more difficult to meet up. "A week at most…?," you scratch your cheek awkwardly while looking away. A dark expression flashes on his face but disappears just as quickly as it appears.

Everyday for the next week, you go to the seashore, at Scaramouche's request, each time bringing a small snack or gift as an apology for leaving him again so quickly. Your parents don't let up on trying to get you to go on blind dates, however. And with their intensifying efforts, your exhaustion also increases, leading to you pouring out all of your complaints on the final day.

Scaramouche smiles almost innocently, his violet eyes glinting under the sunlight. "I have a solution for you." His hands move to pull you down into a deep kiss, each movement slowly claiming the air in lungs as his. His sharp nails dance on the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into delirium before pulling you into the sea with him. 

The cold water pulls you right out of your trance and you struggle against his hold desperately. Scaramouche lets go just enough for regret to fill your eyes, diving back in to give you some much needed air. This time, there is no resistance even when he stakes his claim on your lips, your tongue and even your existence as a whole. He whispers into your ear, his voice killing you into a deep slumber…

"News flash: a resident has been reported missing after going to the seaside. It is recommended to keep your family members, especially children, away from the waters as the current has been rather unforgiving…" Your parents cried, aggrieved at your disappearance. There is nothing they wouldn't give to find you again.

☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆

A/N: oh wow this wip was all the way back from april lololol well happy mermay folks!

[necros-writing-stuff]

His love is violent. It's the scars on your neck from the years of chafing from his collar kissing your neck. It's the finger shaped bruised that accompany those scars and litter your hips, waist, wrists, thighs - anything he can hold onto tight enough. It's the imprints of teeth, left red and sore after his way has been had.

Eden's love is obsessive yet insecure. It's the routines that he sticks to every day and the role this routine forces you to play. It's the way everything is shared but he always comes first to the breakfast table. It's the way that the body he hates gives him the strength and power he cherishes to keep you in line.

The hunter's love is hypocritical. It's the way he preaches of dangers he protects you from yet all of the previous statements are true. It's the declarations of love when his persistence brings your tears. It's the grief that comes when you realise that he, of all people, should know how this feels.

[splatoonpolls]

If you’re a fan. DO NOT SPOIL in the reblogs or comments

[justplainwhump]

Over

Dany is captured by WRU.

A part of Angel's story.

Written for Whumpmas in July @whumpmasinjuly-archive , day 12, Caught.

Content / warnings: Abduction, betrayal, character death, whumper pov, thoughts about noncon, vibes of unhealthy relationship dynamics (m/f).

Had it been up to Frankie to choose the last day of this life, it defined wouldn't have been a Monday. The Hammonds' weekly security briefing was tedious and dull. Especially today. Especially when the sun was shining, especially when his flight to the Caribbean was -

"Frankie." Peter snapped his fingers. "Focus. Look at these photos. Anyone on these shows up near her, you get her away. The Chernovs are pissed because of the boss' latest move, and they won't hold back."

Especially when Frankie knew in detail what - no, who the biggest threat to Dany was today. He had to bite back a smirk.

"The Chernovs won't get to her," Frankie assured, peeking at the clock in the corner. "I'll keep her close."

Josie leaned back and chuckled. "Yeah. We all know just how close she keeps you."

Peter clicked his tongue. "We don't talk about the junior like that, Josie. She's an adult, she's a professional, and so is Francis. When he's listening."

"Yeah. I've got her," Frankie repeated and peeked at the clock on the wall. "And she's going to insufferable when I'm late to pick her up. So. Excuse me."

"Watch out for these guys."

"I will."

He'd been even more attentive than usual, lately, Frankie thought as he jogged towards her office. He knew WRU was scouting them, and he'd clocked some of their agents. Whom he he'd been truly on the lookout for, however, was the principal. The person behind it all. Who paid hundreds of thousands of dollars, to make Danielle Hammond his.

It scratched his professional honor that he couldn't tell. Sure, Stuart Hammond pissed off many powerful players, many of whom would go great length to take it out on his only daughter and designated successor. But none of them would use WRU as a middle man.

And Dany's own surroundings? She certainly came after her Dad, in both business sense and annoying attitude, but Frankie usually managed to keep up with a list of her enemies.

Nobody matched.

Frankie sighed, before he knocked at her door and entered right away.

"You're late," she said, not bothering to turn around from where she stood in front of her cabinet, changing from her elegant business suit into a white summer dress. Frankie was a pragmatic man, but he suspected there was some sort of poetry in that choice on a day like today. "Just in time to zip me up, though."

He stepped in behind her and carefully brushed her blond hair aside, before he reached down for the zipper.

She was gorgeous. Sun tanned, soft skin. The freckles over her shoulders. The fit body, with just the perfect mixture of curves and muscle. His hand rested on her ass just some moments, mapping her shape to keep her in his memories.

All of this would belong to someone else, soon.

"Frankie." She raised a brow at him through the mirror. "We're past this, remember? Focus."

His other hand searched for her hip, too, and he pulled her back against him. She didn't fight it. Fuck. She felt too good, her body pressed to his, just like the many times before. "Come on," he whispered into her hair. "One last time?"

Dany turned her head, and it made him shiver how close she was, how her soft breath caressed his skin. "You don't call the shots, babe," she whispered back, her hand on his cheek. "I do." She twisted her hip out of his grip. "Not today."

He wondered, how it would feel to just take her, right here, in her office. What would happen, if he just grabbed her, hand in that blond locks, tossed her over her own desk and fucked her. She was feisty, but he was stronger than her. Paid to be. He could easily overwhelm her. He'd thought about this, more than once. Never done it. Always let her call the shots. Always let her be in power. What a meek little power that was, though. All deduced, from family, from wealth.

And someone out there was about to do what Frankie couldn't. Strip that off her. That power. That name. That arrogance. All of it. And make her into a submissive little fucktoy.

Oh, he fucking hated them for getting what he longed for.

"Focus," Dany said sharply.

He took a deep breath and nodded. And he did focus. On the smell of her shampoo, on the way her hair tingled over his skin, on the curve of her ass under the zipper.

Focus.

Frankie would become a rich man today. Rich, satisfied, free. He'd just have to make it through this.

"Sorry, babe," he mumbled.

He wasn't.

~

"Why did you say that?" Dany asked, when they were going down in the elevator, looking at him through the huge mirror. "A last time? You usually don't give up that easily."

Frankie had to hide a flinch. "I... Did I really say that?"

She stared at him from honey eyes, eyebrow raised. Expectant. "Yeah."

He hated her. For being gorgeous, for that white dress, for being in charge, for looking right through him. Fifteen minutes. He just needed this to not blow up in his face for fifteen more minutes. Just needed her to trust him for fifteen more minutes. "I... I think we should end this," he said. Improvised. It felt hollow. It sounded real. "It's... It's sort of getting nowhere, right? And I... I think I deserve better."

She paused for a moment, searched his face, before she shrugged. "Okay. Yeah. I guess." She smirked. "It's really been a bit of a cliche, anyway."

The doors slid open towards the lobby, but he couldn't move.

"That's it?" Frankie asked in disbelief. "That's how simple you think this is?"

"Wasn't it always? Come on, Frankie. We fucked. It was fun, it was good, and not gonna lie-" She winked at him. "I did like spanking you. But I mean. It's just sex, right? When it's over, it's over. No hard feelings." She held out an arm to keep the elevator door open for them. "Now. Are we leaving or do you want Peter to cover your shift?"

He really considered it. For a second or two, Frankie imagined going home, having a beer, calling his parents, telling them he'd come back to work in their repair shop. Imagined a life without Dany Hammond.

No.

He'd close this chapter of his life in a much more rewarding way.

"I'm good." He gave her a sharp nod. "Yeah. No hard feelings."

He pushed past her into the lobby, took the room in with a sweeping glance. For a short moment, someone locked eyes with him.

Alex Nadler. That short, awkward WRU client satisfaction manager, dressed just like a businessperson passing by. They weren't awkward now. Their gaze felt like steel.

Frankie shivered.

Move, their lips formed as they tilted their head towards the street.

Focus, Frankie thought.

Focus.

He guided her to the door, just some steps after Alex.

By his side Dany, utterly unfazed by their past conversation, had pulled a stack of index cards from her white purse and skimmed through them, mumbling to herself. She was invited to give a speech at some charity's summer event, just two blocks south.

She wasn't scheduled to arrive.

He walked half a step behind her shoulder, as always, shielded her from behind and towards the street. And as always, his gaze constantly flicked from the surroundings to her. Her long legs, short white dress, perfectly curved ass, blond strands dancing in the wind. People made space for her on instinct, looked at her, jealous, admiring, greedy. And herself - she didn't even notice, deep into her notes, trusting the man behind her to keep her safe.

The man she'd let into her bed, but nowhere else. The man who'd been good enough to guard her, but not to be more than an affair out of dozens. The man she'd led him on, made feel special, and then proved over and over that to her, he was anything but.

A van closed in from behind them. In front, Alex slowed their steps to down to fall back to Dany's side.

Everything was in place.

Dany had no idea.

Frankie smiled grimly.

For someone as savvy as she was, she was pathetically naive.

Then, Alex raised their hand.

~

It happened in seconds. The van slowed by the curb, its door sliding open. Masks. Machine guns.

Dany's index cards silently drifting to the sidewalk. Her white dress still dancing around her thighs, while she stood frozen in shock.

Her first move was for him. A hand, reaching back, to where she knew her protector would be.

Frankie grabbed her waist, a move so familiar he could almost laugh. "I've got you, babe" he mumbled. He could swear that he felt her relax the tiniest bit.

Then he hefted her into the van, right between the armed men.

He jumped in, Alex followed, and the van accelerated, sped off, before Dany had even said a word.

She didn't, still, even when one of the captors took her purse and passed it on to toss it out. Even when another pulled back her wrists and fixed them with zip ties. Even when they forced her to her knees and bound her ankles as well.

Even with a stranger's hand in her hair, a gun to her head, she stayed silent, attentive, aware. Her gaze was on Frankie alone.

And oh. He could drown in those eyes.

When someone touched his wrist, disturbed the image, he angrily flinched. "Sit," a masked man next to him said. "It's getting bumpy."

"I'm -" Frankie grabbed for a hold on the side, just before the van sped around a corner.

"An asshole," Dany said flatly. "I should've known."

Somebody chuckled. But apart from that, nobody spoke.

She didn't say anything more either. Smart girl, he thought. Just as him and the security guys had talked through with her dozens of times. Don't give them anything. Stay calm. Stay alert. Don't fight. Could even have helped, had this been what she probably assumed it to be.

A kidnapping for ransom, for information, for leverage. A kidnapping that matched her worldview. Matched her self image of being the centre of the world.

He idly wondered, what they'd do with that cute white dress. Trash it, probably. Too bad. He'd have liked to fuck her in it.

The van hit a speedbump, another one, and Dany let out a short gasp when the man behind her yanked at her hair trying to keep his footing. The outside noises changed, grew dull, and the van drove into a long, spiraled curve. Parking garage, Frankie thought.

The door slid open, and without spoken commands, their captors emerged into the dark, boots echoing on concrete.

They were alone.

Frankie and Dany, his charge, his lover, his boss. He'd have given his life for her, a long time. Now, he'd sold hers.

She tried to push herself off the ground, get onto her knees again. Under the dim inside light of the van, her dress seemed to emit light. He saw her eyes skim over the inside of the car, the door, back at him, assessing the situation. It was hopeless.

She knew.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why, Frankie?"

"Money," Frankie said with a shrug and crouched down in front of her. "A new life. Seeing you on your knees. Actually, mostly the latter." He reached out and gently traced her cheek. She did flinch now. Cute. "Because you're a bitch, Dany." He grabbed her chin harder. "Because I get paid to see you destroyed."

She stared at him. He wondered if her lip was trembling, or if it was just the light. "It... You know it doesn't make sense, right?" she said.

Frankie pulled back from the kiss he'd just wanted to press on her lips, irritated. "What?"

"That story. You're a loose end. No mobster in their right mind would just let you walk. You betrayed me, you sold me out to be destroyed, but they'll kill you first." She let out a low chuckle. "Oh Frankie. You've always been a fucking idiot."

Fucking bitch tried to belittle him, even at her lowest.

"Oh no, babe." He shook his head. "You have no idea. They're not the mob. They're something else. They just planned to make it look like-"

Dany raised an eyebrow.

Fuck.

Something cold pressed into the back of his neck.

Frankie froze.

"She's right," Alex said behind him, their voice even. "We're professionals. At WRU, we don't leave loose ends."

Dany's gorgeous, brown eyes widened with sudden understanding, her mask of smug confidence finally shattered. "No," she breathed. "No, no, not WRU, not that, not -"

Dany Hammond looked lovely, he thought, when she fell apart.

He held on to that image, as he took his last breath.

---

[Next]

- --

Angel tag list (ask to be added or removed): @whumplr-reader @there-will-always-be-blood @whimpers-and-whumpers @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606

[wolfsbanesparks]

Trick or Treat!

*Throws 2 candys at you and steals the bowl of candy*

Happy Halloween!

I hope you're not squeamish! This one includes descriptions of a dead body (obviously from Pretty Little Thing)

Blood dripped down his face, slipping down from his nose and mouth, leaving dark red trails down his cheeks, almost like tear tracks. His head lolled to the side, his unseeing eyes boring into Billy’s, silently begging for help, silently damning him for not saving him. He almost wished they would come back, that they would go back to torturing him, anything not to be left alone with the body, the reminder of how badly he had failed, the promise of what his future would hold.

[dirtybg3confessions]

can't stop thinking about gortash abducting a redeemed!durge and forcing himself on them. it starts as him trying to get them to remember their relationship - they're bound and gagged but he's being gentle, he's convincing himself they want this - but then when it becomes clear that not only do they not remember, they want nothing to do with him now because they're some goody-two-shoes he starts getting more and more rough and starts torturing them for information on the party and where the netherstone(s) they already have are. he's trying to convince himself that now it's just business, he has to break them like any other prisoner and this is the quickest way, but in reality he's furious they moved on without him and wants to ruin them for their new love interest. fucking them dry until they're bleeding and sobbing and begging for mercy while he digs his gauntlet-covered fingers into their fresh bruises and tells them they deserve this.

[horygory]

No One Will Save You (2023)

[dead-dove-orchid]

Deciding Moment.

[loonybun]

Meeting Aisling (CYOA) 2

sorry i am a VERY slow writer and work on bursts of inspiration and writing sprints so this took FOREVER to write. anyways here it is.

contains: more fae shenanigans, implied magical manipulation, exhaustion, fae carewhumper, invasion of personal space, abduction, The Horrors (fun stuff because my canon doesn’t 100% follow traditional folklore as i like to add things in), just creepy vibes but i’m sure everything will be fine and he’s actually 100% harmless. most definitely!!!

—————————————————

“A photographer?”

He lights up and grabs onto your hands. Almost immediately, he lets go, but the fuzzy sensation dwells on your palm. The strange man continues on.

“That’s not something you hear everyday! I don’t know a ton about photography, but I may have seen some of your… Your picture-things! I never caught your name, actually. Would you mind giving that to me really quick?”

You can’t place why, but words send a shudder down your spine. Somewhere deep in your mind an alarm rings.

He’s still a stranger. You don’t give out your name to strangers. That’s just common sense. Sure, he seems friendly enough, but better safe than sorry. Instead, you give him the handle you use for your photography. That’s probably the main reason he was asking, anyway.

He’s obviously disappointed, but you decide to ignore the guilt. There’s an awkward silence before he speaks up again.

“—Well, follow me. Let’s get you somewhere safer, okay? You can call me Ai, by the way, but not like the ones you see with. Weird little nickname, but it’s what most people call me anyways. Unless we want to be formal with each other, but that doesn’t really seem necessary.”

His enthusiasm returns, and before you know it you’re practically chasing him through the dark forest. It’s hard to catch up with the way he deftly darts from tree to tree. You can hear him laugh as you fail to match his pace, and the sound echoes through the forest like the chimes of crystal bells, bouncing off of the trees.

Eventually, you manage to run up to him. He’d stopped to wait for you, and now he was sitting in the grass, grinning up at you strangely. The exhaustion overwhelms any urge to find the source of your anxiety. You’re still trying to catch your breath, and you soon find yourself down beside him. Ai pats the top of your head, patiently waiting for you to regain your strength.

“…The grass here seems so much softer. You don’t know why, do you? That’s okay. We’ll find out soon.” He murmurs, combing through your hair with nimble fingers. “Do you have your camera? You should take a picture-thing. This is a nice little spot. You probably won’t be able to find it again.”

You hadn’t even noticed, too concentrated on the soothing tones in his voice. You’d nearly fallen asleep right there. Oh god, you just cuddled up to a complete stranger. After a moment, you pull your thoughts together and focus on the area around you.

There’s still no signs of the campsites, but the area he’s brought you to feels safe all the same. Moonbeams stream in through gaps in the canopy above. The white light pours onto the plants around, casting them all into an ethereal state. You take your camera out of your bag and turn it on, eagerly looking at the screen—

But something’s wrong. Pink ebbs into the edges of the screen, and the middle keeps splitting into bars. You point the camera around in an effort to reset it. Ai curiously watches you struggle, that same odd smile still placed on his lips. For a moment, the camera pans over to him— or what should have been him. The bars on the screen seem to multiply and crack, barely obscuring something unfathomable and buglike. You look at the terrifyingly beautiful entity on the screen, then back to him. You hadn’t noticed his teeth before. They really shouldn’t be that sharp, should they?

“Is something wrong?” His voice still sounds so sweet. It makes you feel woozy. Sick. That thing wasn’t human. Where were you? The woods hadn’t even began to thin out. Had he taken you further in?

You shake your head, but you must have taken too long to respond. Once again, he’s by your side, a hand on your shoulder and the other positioned in front of the lens. He’s not smiling anymore.

Ai’s hold on your shoulder becomes firm, uncomfortable and tight.

“…—I didn’t… I didn’t know it did that. Huh. Well— I’ve dragged this out long enough. I was hoping you’d get a few last photos of your world though… Just as a keepsake. Oh well, Maybe it’s for the best.”

A surge of panic shoots through your body. You immediately push him away, stumbling back in the process. You need to get away. Fast. Whatever he meant couldn’t be anything good. Did he want to kill you? Why did he wait?

He’s picked up on your panic.

“Woah, woah! Hey! I don’t want to hurt you. It’s not like that, okay? I just— I need you to come with me. It’ll be an adventure! Humans still like adventuring, right?” The thing’s slowly getting closer to you. You don’t wait to hear whatever he says next. All you can do now is run. Keep running until you find some way out of this place.

Despite your exhaustion, you keep moving, weaving between the trees and taking as many turns as possible. Anything to get him off of your trail. You can hear him behind you. It doesn’t seem like he’s running, though. There aren’t any footsteps.

WHAM. A branch collides with your forehead, and you immediately fall back onto the ground. You need to get up. You need to get up now.

It’s already too late.

He scoops you up effortlessly, ignoring your desperate flailing.

“Oh, ouch... That looked like it hurt. Hopefully it’ll only leave a small bruise. Anyways, I feel like I’m leaving a really bad first impression. You wouldn’t mind giving me a do-over once we get home, right? I mean— I feel like it was going well! Up until you got all freaked out. Not your fault, but next time maybe don’t run off like that.”

He doesn’t look human anymore. You’re looking into the slit pupils of some otherworldly being. It hurts to think too hard about it. It hurts to think at all.

He carries you back over to the spot you two had been before, taking you a bit further. Dread fills your stomach as he steps into the center of a ring of mushrooms and the world begins to melt around you. You can hear him whispering some reassurances to you, but you can’t process what he’s saying. Your eyelids feel so heavy. You don’t resist when he kisses your forehead, causing you to drift away entirely.

Sleep takes you under. It’s a relief. Nothing hurts anymore.

-

-

Your eyelids slowly open, glazing over your new surroundings. Sunlight streams in through a hole in the ceiling, as well as a window that has been thoroughly wrapped in vines. The bedroom is luxurious, but definitely not in any traditional sense.

There’s a large tree in the very center of the room. It’s a grandiose thing with slim leaves and dramatic pink flowers. It looks well taken care of. Still, it’s a weird decoration to have in the middle of a bedroom.

The man— or whatever it was— that brought you here is nowhere to be seen. That’s probably for the best. It gives you more time to find a way out of this place.

You notice the door parallel to the bed and immediately make your way over to it. Locked. You’re not sure what else you expected.

So that settles it. You’ve been taken hostage by some weird magical creature for god knows why and you have no way of knowing where you are. At least he hadn’t restrained you. You could still escape. Things weren’t over yet.

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!!): @whumpy-wyrms @inkwell-and-dagger @lordcatwich @kawaii-cakes

[oboetemasuka]

Lucky and Amane screenshot game

(cw child abduction, child abuse)

Remember that meme I made three months ago? (Three months ago!?)

Well, I finally got around to doing the full matching game.

Every scene with Lucky is matched with an Amane scene.

Sorry, I haven't got it in me to ID these at the moment.

-

Distant view of the mistreatment

"Those who were judged as guilty lived a much more, shall we say, restricted existence." We don't know for certain what happened in the intermission, but the way that the injuries line up with the restraints, I'm inclined to believe this theory. Kotoko, do you really not see this?

Battered...

Hat

Favor

Going to someone familiar, only to find a threat.