#kidnapped tw

[mottinthepot18]

@figuwhump I coloured one of the prompts!! :)

Those dishes are all plastic btw… Useless useless… Unless? 🤔

[cantfightmoonlight]

Meena fished a dress she already owned out of her closet for the decades dance, though it was the first time since being kidnapped that she stepped foot back in the Manor by herself. She happened to own the same dress Grace Kelly wore in Rear Window so she figured it would do when it came to the dance. She busted out some pearls and did her hair up in rollers the way she used to as well.

@icexpackxjc

[jp-todd-rp]

🔪(from @speedsterredhead from a negative speedforce!wally)

Send 🔪 to kidnap my muse! | accepting ( @speedsterredhead )

''Wally -'' Jason's ribs ached with the aftermath of being slammed down and dragged to where he was tied down, but Jason spoke through gritted teeth. He had to try. ''Come on, man, snap out of it - you don't wanna do this.''

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 02

“I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

You don't need to read the whole story. Everyday can stand for its own. And that poor soul has to suffer through every single one of them, I promise!

Hummingbird 02

(Story starts here)

There was the hart partition wall, than the cool tilts and now it felt... soft. Everything around was more soft, than it had been. Cotton touching his cheek. It was warm like him, too warm. Fingertips brushed over tightly nitted texture.

That were the first things that came to his hazy mind. A quiet humming somewhere above, but it sounded like being muffed by something, or far away.

His shoulder sank into that soft surface. He was laying on his side. His body was rocked gently, a static sound lolling him in. Something was moving. But it was so hot in here.

The humming was cheerish, sounded friendly, but far away.

Sam tried an attempt to open his eyes. They were so heavy. It was dim, little artificial lights, big sources of light passing above., everything blurry. Than the pain came, a pulsing in his head rushed in. At the same time a shiver overtook him. He felt freezingly cold all of a sudden. With a moan he tried to move away from the moving sources of light and the pain, closing his eyes again. Suddenly he felt sick to his guts. Or he just registered, because his body finally arrived in reality? It felt like he was coming down from the flu. His stomach was empty, this kind of sick-empty without appetit. His clothes stuck to his body, he felt soaked. But he must have cooled down again and now was shivering slightly under the blanket, he just realised its existence.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be made out of lead. Rearranging his position was near to impossible. Another moan escaped him by the attempt. His head was hot and definitively going to explode soon. Everything was so blurry. He thought he was laying on a rocking boat.

The humming had shifted, was a bit louder now. A big, warm thing... a hand brushed over his forehead. It was grounding, it felt good, it was comforting in his state. Sam tried to open his eyes again. With every blink he registered more of his surroundings, but details still vanished in his blurry vision. He was looking through a fog. His body was rocked by another cold wave.

Apparently, he was in a moving car, not a boat. The little artificial lights, he had seen, were indirect lighting of a consol and the big one's were streetlights passing over. So he thought. It was more like a dream, or watching a movie with half closed eyes.

It was dark outside. Sam was on the backseat, his head on the passenger side, his feet behind the driver. Slowly his head put the pieces together.

'He had passed out in the club. Maybe, he was in a taxi on his way home?' His mind reasoned. "Home?" He whispered more to himself, then out loud. But his mind was too confused. He wasn't even sure if it was a question for directions or a wish. Sam felt miserable and really sick. Another shiver shock him, but his hands were clammy and digging into the blanket for some stability. A whisper from the front seat. He couldn't really make out the words or the meaning, but it sounded something like. "All.. these... years, I c..ll out... name, but y... won't c...ll back, till t..day." But that was making no sence. Maybe the radio was playing and he mistook it. His head was just too clouded anyway.

The hand on his clammy head was still slightly ruffeling his hair, it was heavingly cool on his hot forehead. Sam felt so miserable, he inwardly was longing for a hug. But he had no family anymore or a girlfriend right now, so his own arms wrapped themselves around his shivering torso against their own leaded heaviness. "Home?" His hazy mind formed and pushed over his tembling lips.

'Wait!... A Taxi?... But why would a randam driver touch him for comfort?'

Suddenly Sam's eyes widened in panic. The thought making its way to his muffed brain. His only natural reaction was to go completely stiff under that hand. He couldn't see for the hand was blocking his view of the driver. 'This wasn't a taxi. The interior was too fancy, the fabric too expensive. Taxiseats had another surface, easy to clean. Who's car was this?'

The hand on his head had stopped moving, as had the car. Around the passanger seat, through the windshild Sam could see a foggy red light. His heartbeat was hammering inside his chest, the slight shivering had suddenly turned into his whole body shaking from adrenaline. His breathing sped up too. He couldn't control his body going into full panic mode.

It was now or never. With his feet he pushed the blanket away to the other side of the backseat and his arms went up defensively. But his muscles were stiff, his arms and legs unnaturally heavy, his movements much too slow. He hadn't had really pushed the foreign hand away, as it only had stopped moving midair a few inches away from him. Sam's left grabbed for the doorhandle above his head, but his system was still flushed with whatever was in that drink and he was exhausted from puking his guts out.

The hand, that had been soothing, comforting, grounding him mere moments ago, was the exact opposite now. It came for him, but instead of pulling his hand from the door handle, it went straight for his left upper arm and wrapped around it like a vise. It pushed down on his already existing big painful bruise from his fall and encounter with the rumble on his work shift last night.* Instandly Sam's hold on the doorhandle losened and his complete arm went limb, when white hot pain exploded. His scream was muffeled, while he jerked his head towards his left shoulder fighting to controll that pain. Desperate puffs didn't really help to get through this cruel moment. He needed a second to brace himself, than flightmode took the upper hand again. He trashed and kicked, trying to pull away. The grip around his arm tightend, but Sam knew, this was probably his only chance. In his violent struggle, he bumped his own head against the rear passanger door.

The pounding in his skull had been overtoned by his panic reaction, but now it was back. He was dazed all of a sudden. His free arm went to his tuft reflexively. Over the concert inside his head he hadn't registered, that the hand around his already bruised arm was gone.

A sting in his left tight and the last remains of fight left him. His pounding head went into a stupor in seconds and he felt his heavy muscles getting even heavier. It was scary, but soothing at the same time. He couldn't react anymore, he couldn't fight, he couldn't move at all anymore. And he just didn't want to. His hand slipped from his head and fell down flabby. He didn't feel it hitting the floor of the vehicle. It wasn't a part of him anymore. His hammering heartbeat seemed to have been cut into half by whatever was injected in his leg.

His surroundings got blurry again. A last aspirated "Home?!" escaped his lips. Sam wasn't able to move his neck, so the only thing he really could see was a diffuse figure behind the wheel out of the corner of his eye, the head was looking at him, maybe some movement in his face. Sam really couldn't tell.

"Home? They don't care about you. Actually, there's nobody who cares about you out there. But don't worry my little hummingbird. I do."

The fuzzy traffic light changed from red to yellow. The man was humming and scarly it sounded soothing again.

The yellow blop turned green and than everything turned black.

TBC

Hummingbird previous / masterlist

*explained later (05)

[wearealive]

parameddic asked: [ FIND ]  for sender to rescue receiver after they’ve been tortured.

this field came with risks: connor knew that. police officers, detectives, interrogators: they weren't well-liked by the general public, and especially by criminals. they were easy targets for violence. they worked with dangerous people on a day-to-day basis. this is why it was critical to always have a partner. sometimes, unfortunately, it just wasn't enough.

nancy was dead. shot with her own service weapon the moment she tried to pull it on the suspect. that was twenty eight days ago. she was left behind when robert fled with connor. her body was found within the hour. connor had been reported missing by the DPD four weeks ago. the main suspect, robert hardin, was nowhere to be found. he'd returned home to austin without a trace: new hair and style. new car. new name (ethan coltrain, his alias during his short stay in detroit). it was fool-proof, or so he thought.

connor stayed primarily in the basement, only allowed to come upstairs for short periods of time. he stayed obedient at first, in hopes of trying to keep himself alive while waiting to be found. but days passed. then weeks. by the third week, he was becoming impatient. truly scared that he'd never be found. that's when he started to fight back, which proved to be a near-fatal mistake.

things had gotten especially bad over the past 48 hours. connor had nearly made it out, but ran face-first into robert when he opened the front door. he got one breath of fresh air before he was grabbed by the throat and slammed into the wall with enough force to knock him out on impact. when he woke up, the first sensation he noticed was itchiness — rope was tied around both wrists, arms restrained to a steel pipe behind him. a piece of cloth tied around his mouth. it's like something out of a movie, connor thinks. did this shit actually happen to people?

the longer he goes without food and water, the harder it is to stay awake. he conserves all of his energy for when robert comes downstairs. his neck aches from hanging down, but he can no longer really hold it up. one last attempt at escaping leaves connor bruised and bloody - it's when he accepts his fate. he's not getting out of this. he just holds onto hope that he'll go quickly. that he doesn't feel anything.

connor is asleep when he hears the first round of gunfire. he opens his eyes into blackness. it must be late. the shots sound close. very close. a sudden burst of adrenaline courses through him, arms pulling and legs kicking in a futile attempt at breaking free. ❝ help me! ❞ the young man tries, but the cloth is still secured over his mouth. another minute passes and there's a second round. things grow silent upstairs. it feels like an eternity before the basement door is kicked open and connor is struck with a blinding light, strong enough to make him lose his sight entirely for a minute or so. all he can hear is footsteps, a voice that sounds... angry? demanding? it isn't robert, but connor isn't really coherent enough to tell the difference. he tucks his head into his shoulder and screams, kicking at the individual in front of him.

[dearestagonya]

@diverse-hearts-ocs sent an ask to sunshinebled. :: "W-Wait - who the heck are you? Where's my sister?" - Ethan

Icy blues stare at the man who'd just woken up in her home. They're upstairs, in a bedroom that looked old and musty. The wallpaper was peeling in some places and the old carpet looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in years. Prudence sits beside him on the old bed, the mattress creaking with their movements. There's an old handmade quilt underneath them, with different patterned patches sewn into it.

She smiles sweetly at him, reaching out a hand to touch his face. "Oh darling," she cooed. "You don't need her. You're where you belong now and I'll make sure to take good care of you."

[x--sinner--x]

Listen, I didn't mean to push my cock into your pussy while you were sleeping. It was part of a dare and my stupid friends dared me to fuck the girl I found hottest and film it as proof.

I was planning to be in and out, making sure you never knew what happened. But the moment my cock went inside, it felt so good that my thoughts of pulling out just left me. I was just dumbfounded and wanted more.

Sorry I came inside you. I really have to go now. Thanks for the picture.

I hope you will love the present I gave you 10 months from now.

[storybounded]

Open Starter ( wrong place, wrong time )

Scott had been missing for several HOURS. He never returned to his hotel earlier that night, and those who tried to reach out couldn't even get him to pick up his phone. How could he if it was thrown within the deep and murky depths of a fountain.

Quite a bold move it was to snatch a high profile actor. But high profile meant this guy was worth A LOT. It didn't help Scott didn't have any security with him. Being a guy with a strong 6'4' stature, it lead himself to believe he would be untouched. That couldn't be further from the truth.

Being stashed way in what looked to be a dark supply closet, the handle was, to no surprise, locked tight, not allowing any form of escape.

The actor's hands were tied behind his back, and his mouth taped shut. His head was still reeling from the effects of chloroform, and every movement felt as if he had just downed a whole bottle of alcohol. Was the room spinning? The actor stumbled, back against the wall, and he slid down to the floor.

Breath was quick, racing along with his heart that pounded with fear within his chest. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Where is he...why is he here. His brain was a buzzing wasp nest. If only he was actually Bolt - the SUPERHERO that he played on TV.

Now....now... He was reduced down to nothing but a defenseless victim. Stiffening when he heard a noise in the distance, his eyes on his bruised face DARTED to a pipe that was just lying there.

Using his leg, he desperately tried to slide it over closer.

[cantfightmoonlight]

@briarreed

"Briar Rose Reed!" Bri called out, banging heavily against her dear friend's door. "Are you in there? Because you haven't texted me back in hours and there are still two psycho killers on the loose, so if you don't open up in the next five minutes or give me some sort of sign you're alive and well, I- I'm going to assume you got kidnapped like that asian dude did and call the pol- we don't have a head of police anymore. Fuck. I'm going to tell your siblings on you."

[suicideassistance]

Darling, There is no "stopping."

You left your house wearing a skirt and no panties. I found you walking alone in the woods. Leaving a scent trail with your soaked thighs, you call any predator to take you like an animal in heat. Now you want to cry out for rescue. No, baby.

You're going to take every inch of me like a good rape toy. And if you deliver what you display, I may spare your pathetic life.

[bunnygirllover45]

possession.

[urprettylildoe]

𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁ℯ𝒹

♡ yandere football player x fem reader ♡ Every girl wanted to be with him and every guy wanted to be him, and to everyone around the world he was considered the embodiment of perfection. But there's more to what meets the eye, and you're one of the only people who know that very well. ♡ word count: 1.9k words ♡ warnings: yandere/obsessive behaviour, dependency, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted drugging, very brief and implied self-harm, suggested nsfw

His team had won yet again.

Critics weren't just analysing the performance itself but one particular figure that always made his presence known; whether it was deliberate or natural.

Looks, money, charisma, talent; what characteristic didn't the renowned football star possess?

Blake's motivator was his love for things that kept him on his toes and sent a rush of excitement through his veins.

The constant chanting of his name from the crowds was like music to his ears. He waved and shot them a pretty smile adorned with dimples that would surely make magazine covers.

Cameras zoomed in on each of the team players as they walked out of the field. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he stared into the camera.

The world out there didn't know that it was reserved for one particular person, and they knew who they were.

A message.

I know you're watching.

♡

"And how do you feel about today's performance?" The lady smiled almost too brightly, holding the microphone up towards him.

"I think we gave it our all today and I couldn't have done without my team," he enthusiastically recited as if he hadn't been practising with his manager for the perfect PR response to the questions. Blake was a natural in front of the camera — he threw in some jokes and made sure to flash those pearly whites every now and then.

The interviewer chuckled, "Oh please, don't be so modest. You were amazing out there, Blake. Give yourself some credit, will ya?"

A few more minutes passed with them going back and forth before he was finally asked million dollar question:

"so, we're all dying to know, any relationship updates we should be aware of?"

For a split second, his flawless facade cracked and his smile faltered, his jaw ticking with something unpleasant. Then, almost as if nothing happened, his expression turned carefully neutral and he maintained a polite smile, "my personal life is just that, personal."

Translation: i'm not answering that. In any other situation, he'd have no problem saying it directly, but he'd rather not listen to his agent talking his ear off about it later.

But the woman obviously did not pick up on the implication and if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she leaned in and brushed her hand against his bicep at an attempt of subtle flirting, "Oh, come on. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Surely there's someone special in your life?"

He feigned embarrassment rather than expressing his anger and scratched the back of his head, "you're really putting me on the spot here." He paused, then added, "i'm just focused on my career at the moment. And as they say, good things come to those who wait, right?"

His answer shut the interviewer down and the last line did have some truth to it. Patience is a virtue.

♡

Pushing the bathroom door open, his hands gripped one of the sinks and he took a moment to calm his nerves.

They don't know. They don't know. It's okay.

His gaze dropped to the scar marring his otherwise perfect skin in the mirror, right under his bottom lip. Yet, instead of frustration like his manager had expressed with utter disappointment, warmth he was all too familiar with fluttered in his chest.

This was no burden, but a gift from his favourite little songbird after one of her many tantrums of be let out of the golden cage. Though it is a hassle to calm her back down, he did cherish the mark imprinted on his skin.

Blake tutted, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised it further. It was fading; he'll need to fix that up soon enough.

He shrugged on a jacket and drove home in his sleek car, ready to finally relax. The day drained him of all his energy.

Or perhaps it didn't, because when he reached his home, all of the anger bubbled up to the surface. Patience was not a virtue, because his had reached its limit because of a certain dove.

♡

Tonight was the night.

The night where you would finally be free of the shackles that bound you to that horrible, horrible man.

Blake.

To his fans and the world, he's a passionate and talented athlete. To you? He's a monster. One that stripped you off everything you've known, one that kept you for his selfish desires, one that held a warped version of 'love' in his heart.

You wanted to flee. Not even tell the police, just run far, far away where he couldn't reach you, where you would be your own person and not some pretty ornament he'd come home to admire every day.

Sanity hanging by a thread, you slipped down the marble stairs in just your socks and cute pajamas. Any captive should have injuries and tattered clothes. Except, your captor wasn't normal. And while you didn't have any physical injuries, you were still hurt.

You were supposed to be asleep, if everything went according to his plan (which usually did). The opportunity was too good to pass up; he was leaving for a match for hours. When he had given you the pill with a fond smile, you returned it and made an act of swallowing, all while keeping it under your tongue. The doors were locked due to his paranoia so you couldn't escape through there. Not to mention your hands and feet were tied, so you spent time on those too.

Finally, the makeshift rope was ready. Hours of twisting bedsheets together finally paid off and now you were ready.

One look out the window and you were already nauseous. It was such a high drop and you weren't willing to die, not yet at least. The rope tumbled down till it nearly reached the bottom, only a few feet off the garden grounds.

In and out. Nothing is going to happen.

Wrapping your limbs around the clothing, your hands clenched around it. Your eyes closed and you let yourself slide. Breathing fresh air felt true bliss, like this was your first time.

When you reached the bottom, your knees trembled with the gravity of what's going on. The closest thing you let out to a relieved sigh was a choked sound out of your throat.

You were free. You. Were. Free.

No more punishments, no more suffering, no more of his constricting love, no more-

maniacal laughter rings through the air sharply, making you halt. No.

You'd recognise it anywhere, even if you didn't want to.

"Wow, I leave for a few hours and come back to this?" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye in amusement, though you caught a vein in his forehead throbbing. "You surprise me every time, baby. Though I gotta admit i'm a little...hurt."

Your heart stopped and you took a step back, whipping around to face him. Such beauty he had, but so undeserving of it. Your nails had dug blood out of your palms, making them dully ache however not as deep as his confessions of 'love' would pierce your heart.

He didn't have nothing in that chest but rotting flesh.

"Now, now, none of that." He grinned as he followed your steps with his longer, stronger legs and you could only pray that he showed mercy. "You really didn't think you'd get away, did you? You truly do underestimate the lengths I'd go for you.

I give you the most beautiful home, the finest foods — my love. And this is how you repay? By running away from me? From us?"

His voice progressively got louder with each word. You really pushed him to the limits.

"I-I'm sorry-"

Cutting you off, large hands shaky with barely concealed raged cluched either sides of your head, "shh, I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore."

It wasn't a normal, torturous kind of punishment — no, you wished it was. You wondered if falling from the window was a better fate than this.

His voice softened at your sniffles, almost as if he was comforting you, shielding from a danger that nothing seemed to poise but him. "Hey, hey, don't cry. C'mon, my dove. If you're good, I won't go too hard on you."

Cries spilled past your lips, begging him that you were sorry and that you weren't going to do it again.

And really, you were never going to. Not after what he did to you afterwards.

You were reduced to a small ball to shivers and hiccups underneath Blake on the soft, fluid-stained sheets. The pink sleepwear was discarded on the floor. Equally bare, his muscles from all the training were on display. He was now beaming affectionately as he watched your tuckered out expression.

This wasn't the first time you've been violated, obviously. But this time it felt worse, like the pain of reality came crashing down on you like a tsunami ten times harder than before. It didn't help that he kept on whispering sweet threats in your ear.

He had branded your skin roughly and taken you, only to cradle you gently with a lover's touch. The drug he had injected you with made you a willing participant in his game, made you ache with desire for the one being you wanted to hate.

You slurred like a broken record, unsure of what was even going on anymore, "m'sorry, I didn't mean to...hic"

"It's okay, it's okay" he sang softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes, "y'know punishing you hurts me more than it does you, but I had to do this, you were trying to leave me, sweet thing."

A small, hidden part of you still wanted to fight for your freedom, to save yourself.

"you're so silly, thinking anyone would believe you if you ran away." He cooed, peppering loving kisses all over your face.

You closed your eyes and weakly whimpered. They would believe you, they would. Wouldn't they?

"Sometimes, the thoughts become too much for that pretty little head, don't they? You can't possible take all of it at once. But that's why i'm here. To protect you from every bad thing in the world."

His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head down, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I'll give you the world. Just — promise not to leave me again"

The sentences tumbling out his mouth just made you feel even more horrible.

You were broken. You had tried to convince yourself otherwise, but it was all in vain. He had shattered you into pieces and rebuilt you to fit his preferences. If you looked into the mirror right now, you don't think you would recognise yourself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't cut out for the world, maybe there were dangerous things out to get you, maybe safety was in his arms.

"Rest, i'll take care of you"

You let your eyes droop shut. Yeah, that sounded about right. He'll take care of you.

Once you finally nestled against the comfort of his chest with tiny snores, was he finally able to celebrate another accomplishment. He can't remember the last time he didn't have something he wanted, even if his beautiful dove was putting up a fight against him.

♡

Copyright © 2025 urprettylildoe. All rights reserved.

Yours truly,

@urprettylildoe

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Fiddauthor divorce arc speedrun <3

After 30 years of searching for his lost brother through demonic rituals and summonings, Ford has become a bit of a notorious demon collector over the years. He's made a LOT of deals with MANY different demons over the years; from minor and harmless little entities to big and powerful overlords. Most of the time, these deals aren't really a one-way situation, so a lot of demons have a strong grip on him just as much as he does on them. It often ends up being a mutual sort of destruction, as in: "I know I'm but a mere mortal trifling with things I couldn't begin to fathom, and I know you will destroy me eventually; but I don't care as long as I get to destroy you too." He just needs to live long enough to find his brother.

The red hands are essentially pieces of himself (his soul, you could say??) that he wields as his method of restraint to the demons he has "tamed" so far. They act as a leash to contain each demons' powers, and he can loosen or tighten his hold on them as much as he wants. The number of hands required to contain a demon really depends on their individual strengths, but 3-4 hands are already very energy consuming.

YES, I gave all of his demons stupid names. SUE ME.

[dearestagonya]

Prudence Headcanons.

Just thinking about some Prudence lore and wanting to dive into her personality a bit more. Specifically, how possessive and obsessive she gets with people. And how irrational it makes her. Like Prudence could meet someone one time and is suddenly like: We're friends. Or she could've kissed someone once and is instantly like: I'm in love with you. You're my boyfriend now.

She's the type of person that will stalk the people she cares about. She will either stalk people as a means to protect them and keep an eye out for them. Or she will stalk them because she feels paranoid. She's afraid they might abandon her or replace her, so she will do whatever it takes to make sure this doesn't happen.

Prudence has also been known to believe that she is the only person anyone needs in their life and gets very jealous if she sees that person with anyone else. She'll be like : You don't need them. You have me and you only need me. Doesn't matter who they're with. Some examples of this could be: a persons relative, their neighbor, a co-worker, a romantic partner, another friend, and so on. If she feels like they're a threat to the relationship she has with the person of her affections, she will kill them without remorse. She's so good at what she does that no murders are ever traced back to her and no bodies are ever found. And she even goes as far as to make people forget she knew the deceased, not wanting the police to catch on. Or if she's not feeling that extreme - which is rare - she will just attack them and make them forget what happened afterwards. There has also been a time or two where she's kidnapped someone who was close to the person of her affections. This usually lead to the kidnapped person being murdered later.

She gets upset when people come to visit her and have to leave. Most of the time she will just gilt trip them or beg them to stay with her a little bit longer. But if they make her mad and refuse to listen, then she might get angry and hurt them. Usually regretting it later and apologizing. Usually the apologies going something like this: I'm sorry I hurt you, but you were trying to leave and I got upset. If you hadn't tried to leave me I wouldn't have hurt you.

Prudence has also kidnapped some of the people she's become infatuated with. But this is extremely rare and usually only happens with uncooperative people or people she thinks might be trying to abandon her.

She has also been known to kill the people of her affections. This has occurred when people have rejected her in a certain way - which lead to her getting angry and being unable to control herself. It has also occurred when she's come to the conclusion that someone is trying to replace her (Master Stine is an example of this). Or when she thinks she's being abandoned by the person she cares about.

However, Prudence is also the type of person who will literally do almost anything the person of her affections asks of her. If the person of her affections happens to be very dominate in nature, then she will be more submissive and docile. Much like she was with Master Stine. I imagine she probably had a bit of stockholm syndrome in regards to him. Though her feelings towards the master were never romantic - they were more platonic I guess? Sometimes she greatly detested him though.

Also, because I forgot to mention this, Prudence will never purposely hurt children or animals. That's where she draws the line. If she does hurt them, it's an accident.

[sethdomain]

Space experimented child soldier capitalism miraculous ladybug AU. What's next