#grabber x you

[jokeringcutio]

DRABBLE/ Insomnia!READER X THE GRABBER

Fandom: Black Phone 2022

Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dark!, Non-con/Dub-con, Forced!Blowjob, Smut, Insomnia!Reader, Kidnapped!Reader, Victim!Reader. Implied age gap/ older man/younger woman, somnophilia, use of Little/good Girl.

AN: for @ninakuli How would the Grabber react if the reader couldn’t get to sleep? Well, this might be one of the ways.

->

“Can’t sleep?”

The rough voice made you look up from your position lying on the moldy mattress. You wondered how anyone could sleep here. A stranger’s house, a damp basement, an unknown environment. The walls were bare except for the painting peeling down. The tiny barred window that let in the only light, whether it was day or night because of the lamp that hung in front of it, was up too high. The walls absorbed any sound. It was a prison made with hellish barriers.

And then there was that stranger who came watching. You never knew when he would be down here. Never knew what he would do next. It had you on edge. How could anyone ever sleep when he was around?

So far, he’d mostly been down to watch you, talk to you, work on your mind until his words confused you and you started to believe you’d ended up here all because of your own doing. That you deserved being here.

But there had been that one time when you had pretended to have been asleep, eyes closed, in hopes he would become bored and turn away. But instead of leaving, you had heard his breathing deepen. And then you had felt his hand between your thighs, fingers pressing deep into your clothed skin until one finger curled against your covered cunt. You could still feel his fingertip press against your sensitive bud. The touch hadn’t lasted long, for you’d shot up instantly and his hand had been back by his side almost just as fast. But you were certain it had not been a dream.

And now you were scared of him. Frightened, that if you were to go to sleep, he might take you in it. That he might claim your body as his own when you could not fight back.

Anxiety ate you, piece by piece until it wrecked your nerves and made you shiver with fearful anticipation. Any sound would trigger a panicked reaction and would have you sit up and open your eyes. Because he is here again, isn’t he? Even when he wasn’t. You were constantly alert, ready to shy away from any advances he might try to make.

And so, you blinked up at him fearfully while you wondered what he would be doing next. He’d commented on your lack of sleep the past few times he’d been down there, annoyed that he couldn’t watch you sleep like he had the others. You didn’t know how many had been here before you, only that he somehow seemed to enjoy observing them when they weren’t awake.

Creep, you thought. You wondered if he got off of it. And why he couldn’t just enjoy you while you were awake?

Perhaps that had been a wrong thought to have, because what he said next made shivers run down your spine.

“I know just the thing.” Just the thing for what? To make you sleepy? You wondered for a moment if he referred to some kind of drug, or if he might just knock you out with one of his fists. But he did neither.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask’s chin pointed at his right shoulder. He was observing you, his stance pensively. What was he thinking? But then you regretted that thought when the man came over to you, coming closer than he had in the past few days.

“An ancient old medicine,” he said, voice low and gruff, while he started to unbuckle his belt. And that was the moment you realized what he might be implying. What he might want from you. He probably had wanted this all along.

Your eyes grew wide with fear as you tried to crawl back on the mattress until your back hit the wall and you couldn’t back away any further. “It has proven to be very effective over time,” his husky voice sounded. Then a chuckle emerged from behind the mask as he pushed his pants and underpants down to reveal an achingly hard cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip and glistening in the faint light that fell in from the window above.

The belt was wrapped around his right fist, the end of it dangling in front of you.

You tried to shield your eyes with your hands. “Please,” you begged when you noticed he’d stepped even closer and completely ignored the fact that you had tried to get away. “No, please,” his hand was upon your wrist, yanking it away to uncover your eyes. You looked up at him, tears glistening in your eyes, while you pleaded for him to spare you. “I’ll go to sleep,” you said, voice choked by tears. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll go to sleep. You don’t need to do this.”

He paused in his actions and there was that tilt of his head again as he studied you through the hole-eyes of the mask. The belt dropped from his hand and fell to the basement floor with a clank.

His right hand came up to your cheek and you flinched, afraid he might slap you there. But his touch was gentle, his palm lightly upon your skin. You opened your eyes again to look up at him mistrustingly and wished you could tell what kind of expression he held behind that darned mask he was wearing.

You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was taking his time, standing there, only inches away from you. He was gently caressing your cheek, his thumb tracing circles. The motion was soothing as if he was trying to comfort you. It worked as well, for you felt your shoulders relax somewhat, despite your brain being on full alert.

His other hand was holding his cock. The aching hard member twitched in his grip as a new spurt of pre-cum droplets emerged from the tip. You tried not to look at it, which was hard as his shaft was on eye-level with you, ready to be brought to your lips.

Would he do it? You wondered how far he would go. He hadn’t touched you before like this. He’d been mostly at a distance. Except for that one time. But it figured he would eventually succumb to these primal desires. Why else had he taken you? If it had been just to kill then he would have done so already. Why keep you alive if not for this?

You whimpered, slightly trembling under his caress. A low hum escaped the masked man, then he stood straight again and you saw him move his upper body. The vest he was wearing fell open, his naked stomach showed. Round, you thought, pudgy. Yet, the muscles that showed on his chest betrayed your kidnapper was a man of strength. A strength that was confirmed almost instantly when he suddenly reached for you.

You felt your head being yanked towards him, and his shaft that had been angled at your lips was now pressed against them, begging you to spread them wide. He kept pushing, roughly, until the meat was between your lips and the head of his cock was upon your tongue. The salty taste of flesh mixed with the bitterness of the pre-cum filled your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks. And then he started to thrust.

You looked up at him, pleading silently for his mercy. But at the sight of your tear-stained eyes, his thrusts grew even fiercer and his grip on your head even tighter. You were left with no alternative but to suck, accepting his cock deep inside your throat.

Low, deep rumbles came from the depth of his chest when you started to cooperate. He was pleased, humming and moaning ‘oh yeah’ and ‘just like that’. Sounds that vibrated through his cock until you felt them in your mouth.

Dirty, your mind provided you while he moved you up and down his shaft. The salty and bitter taste of him filled you completely. The curly hairs around his manhood pressed into your nostrils when he pushed your head forward, blocking off your chance to breathe. You sputtered around him, feeling the tip at the back of your throat, feeling his cock spasm between your lips.

You gurgled and sputtered, trying not to choke. A moment of respite when he slid your head back again and his cock nearly left your lips, but then he pushed forward again until his hips met your cheek and your nose was nestled deep within his pubic hair.

You gasped and tried to claw at his hips, but all you felt was how he kept a tight grip on your head and stilled his movements, leaving his cock deep between your lips, the head pushing the back of your throat.

The process repeated itself a few more times, until his cock finally slipped from your lips and you were left gasping for air. A trail of sperm and saliva dripped from your lips and ran down your chin. You moved your hand up to wipe it away, but he caught your wrist before you could get there.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you heard a chuckle derive from behind the mask. “Na-ah,” the man tusked, his low gravelly voice making something twist deep inside you. A longing, a tingle that had you squeezing your legs together. A foreboding feeling washed over you, that he wasn’t finished just yet. That this was only the beginning.

“Leave it there,” the man hummed. The pause that followed felt too long, making you writhe uncomfortably while you waited for him to either speak or let go of your hand. In the end, he did both, nearly at the same time. “I think I will have to cover your face in a layer of my spunk next time,” there was that rasp again. You had heard it before, how he could slide from a normal, almost gentle tone, into a demonic rasp that was usually used when he was angry and full of curses. “Paint your face a nice white with my cum,” he clicked his tongue behind the mask. His voice became lighter again.

“But for now, there’s another way I have in mind to tire you.”

You shivered at the promise and tried to back away again. The man in front of you got hold of his throbbing cock, wrapping his left hand around it. You saw how his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, still covered in your saliva, and watched how the veins throbbed when he moved his hand up and down at a firm but gentle pace. The ring on his finger glinted in the weak light, skin rippling as he pumped his hand up and down his throbbing cock. Still hard. Balls underneath heavy with cum.

“Undress, sweetie,” he cooed, voice soft like honey.  But when you refused to do as he said, his tone turned drier and more menacing again.

What happened next was much of a blur. He made you undress for him, tweak your nipples for him, rub your hands up and down your bare chest for him while he watched and laughed and licked his tongue past his teeth at the show. His hand never ceased moving up and down slowly, hardening himself underneath his touch until he thought it was enough.

 “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” it took only one command and you were back on your back on the mattress. Your bare back scrubbed along the mold. Even covered in the dark shade of the mask, you could see the glistening of his eyes, pupils wide. You hesitatingly spread your legs for him.

He crawled over you, cock still in his hand, and pressed your legs apart to fit himself in between. His right hand was on your thigh, palm pressed against your soft skin. His left hand guided his cock to your quivering cunt until you felt the head kiss your labia. A wet feeling against your pussy lips and you realized he was smearing his pre-cum at your entrance, deliberately rubbing the head of his cock up and down your entrance while some of the pre-cum came seeping out.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders and your lips parted in a gasp. “Please,” you begged, knowing it to be futile. Then he dipped in, just the head. Careful fingers pressed the tip in. Not enough to hurt yet, just enough to tease.

He paused in his actions just to bend down, his hair brushed against your cheek as he whispered near your face. “That’s my good girl.”

Then he thrust forth without mercy.

You were speared upon his cock that night, in the basement that was your prison. He left you sore and tired as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling body beneath him.

He’d been right. You closed your eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber afterward, relieved when he finally rose from the bed and left you alone. You were too tired to notice when the Grabber returned for you in the midst of the night to get some more relief. Until you faintly awoke to wet sounds and the odd feeling of something thrusting deep inside you.

“Hush, pretty girl,” the low voice whispered in your ear, hips moving relentlessly while he kept pushing himself inside. One hand was on your breast, squeezing it tightly while he toyed with you. His other arm was around your waist, his knee between your legs as he held you from behind, your cunt squeezing down on his cock which was covered in your mixed juices.

“I’ll make you go to sleep soon, little one. Don’t you worry. I’ll make you sleep real deep.”  

#Going real deep here #the grabber x reader #dark smut #grabber x you #albert shaw x reader drabble #drabble fill #prompt fill #insomnia reader dark fic

[myers-meadow]

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

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

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

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

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

Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[silversquirtle]

ETHAN WENT AS THE GRABBER FOR HALLOWEEN I REPEAT ETHAN WENT AS THE GRABBER FOR HALLOWEEN

#the black phone #the grabber #ethan hawke #black phone #albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #the grabber x reader #grabber x you #the things this man does to me

[cerebellam]

Tag, You’re It - Chapter 5

The Grabber x Female Reader

Summary: The Grabber offers you his idea of a ‘peace offering’

Warning(s): UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT. Language, blood/violence, large age gap (reader is 26), kidnapping, beginnings of Stockholm Syndrome, sexual content, dubcon touching, knife play

Masterlist: X

A/N: We’re entering spicy territory here, people. I wrote the ending a little rushed because I was so excited to put this out, I may go back and edit some of it later. Enjoy! 

You awoke to the painful silence of the basement. Your prison. 

At some point, you had crawled your way back to the mattress and fallen asleep. You were curled up on your side in a fetal position, legs drawn close to you in comfort. You were afraid that if you moved an inch you would somehow be dragged back onto the floor and whipped with the belt again. The fact that this was the first time the Grabber had actually harmed you in your captivity only solidified the painful reality in your mind that he was going to kill you. Slowly, but surely. 

You sniffled and rubbed a hand across your face, feeling dried tears crusted along your cheeks. You felt defeated. There was no way out of this. He had said it himself. You weren’t leaving this place. Escaping was clearly not an easy feat, and you couldn’t think of a reason to try to dash for freedom again unless given the prime opportunity. You would simply have to play along and…endure your captivity. Perhaps earn his trust. No matter what that took.

The beginning sounds of the harsh groan from the door being opened began to fill the room, and you quickly shot up from your position and out of your reverie.

You scrambled to the head of the mattress and against the cold, concrete wall. You winced as the ragged scabs on your back shifted beneath the fabric of your t-shirt.

The Grabber made his entrance, appearing before you in his smiling mask. This time, however, the top half of his ceramic disguise was missing. It revealed his gorgeous cerulean eyes to you, a pained expression painted across his features. You attempted to put the two separate parts of his face you had seen together in your mind, and you concluded he was a fairly handsome guy, you know…save for the psychotic kidnapper killer part. 

“Oh sweet dove, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” he tutted. 

This man had to be completely off his rocker. You stared at him silently.

“What do you want?” you rasped, your voice dry and painful.

“A peace offering, if you will.”

Your stare continued. “Seriously? You know damn well a real peace offering would be letting me go-“

He took a step towards you, his stare narrowing.

You swallowed. “Fine. Fine. What did you have in mind?”

From behind his back, The Grabber presented a black piece of fabric and cable ties. 

Your throat tightened. “Um...and what pray tell, are those intended for?”

“It’s time to get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take you to the shower.” 

You let out a silent exhale. It certainly was a tempting offer. The thought of a shower right now sounded heavenly...anything to make you feel a little more human. You gave him a small nod. He then took a step closer to you and lifted the black blindfold to your face, securing the fabric over your eyes. You then felt hands around your wrist, binding them with something plastic. You heard the zipping sound of zip ties securing your wrists together tightly. You winced. 

“Are these really necessary?” 

“Depends, dove. Do you plan on making another great escape?”

You sighed. “You’ve got me there.”

He hmphed and finished securing your plastic manacles. He urged you to step forward. You blindly followed The Grabber from the basement, stumbling slightly as you found the wooden stairs leading to the kitchen. You were glad you had at least seen part of the house, but you silently wondered what the rest of it looked like. Or where, in particular, the house was. You wondered how far away from home you really were. 

Your toes moved from linoleum to carpet, and back to linoleum again. He removed the blindfold from your eyes. 

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting, a very bright contrast from your dark prison below. The bathroom you were now standing in was small and littered with brown and cream accents. You stood there for a moment staring at each other. He had changed his mask again, removing the bottom half and replacing it with a portion only covering the superior portion of his face. Why wasn’t he leaving? You really didn’t need him to hold your hand for this. 

“Um…aren’t you going to let me shower?”

The Grabber ignored you. 

“Turn around,” he growled, his voice a low hum. 

“Excuse me?”

“Did I ask? Turn. Around.” 

You sighed and did as the man asked, not daring to retaliate right now. What the fuck was he doing?

Suddenly, you felt the Grabber’s body pressed against your back. His lips brushed against your ear, his warm breath causing you to shudder. You immediately froze, blood running ice cold. 

“Do what I say and don’t fight back, or I will gut you right here on the linoleum and strangle you with your own intestines. Is that clear?”

With your back still facing him, you nodded nervously. 

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good girl.”

You mentally cursed yourself, as you felt a deep warmth pool in the pit of your lower stomach. Was this…turning you on?! No, no. There was no way. This dude just threatened to kill you. Needless to say, you were very confused at the signals your body was currently sending you.

Then you heard the metallic swish of a switchblade behind you and you immediately froze.

“Woah, wait. What are you-“

“Shhh,” the older man cooed, taking the blade and ripping it up along the backside of your bloodied t-shirt. The cotton ripped as it was taken off your body and around your restrained hands. 

His arm came possessively around the top of your chest, pulling your back close to him. He held the cool metallic blade of the knife against your bare skin. He lightly traced the blade across your neck, down your arm, then across your abdomen. The Grabber simply gave a throaty chuckle at your body’s response to him. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest. 

Speaking of bodily responses, your captor’s was pressing evidently into your back. You closed your eyes, not quite sure what emotion you were feeling at this moment. 

The knife made its way underneath the elastic of your bra. He slid the blade upwards, letting the cotton fabric fling to the floor. You managed a gasp and threw your tied wrists up to cover your bare chest the best you could. 

He then released his hold on you and put away his knife, placing both of his hands on either side of your waist. He unbuttoned the front of your jeans and began sliding them down the curve of your body, along with your panties. The fabric pooled at your ankles. 

“Step,” he ordered. You complied, lifting a leg as he removed your last piece of protective fabric. You officially stood naked in your kidnapper’s bathroom, completely bare and vulnerable to him. Completely at his disposal. 

His hands slowly ghosted up along the back of your leg, stopping at the apex of your thighs. Your entire body flowered in goosebumps. His warm breath was on your skin again, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“Fuck, you are beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. The vibrations of his deep voice went straight to your core. It was taking everything in you to restrain yourself, to not toss your head back and moan. You wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction. 

But honestly…what in the actual fuck was happening right now.

He stood slowly, gently squeezing the curve of your ass while doing so. You swallowed heavily. 

You felt his fingers graze across your back and you jumped. He faintly traced the raised welts from his belt assault the other day. 

“Poor sweet girl. If only you had listened to me. This wouldn’t have happened.”

If only you didn’t kidnap me, this wouldn’t have happened at all. Fucker. You wanted to bite back an insult at him, but you were too frozen to move even your vocal cords.

He tsked. 

“Turn around. Let me look at you.”

You closed your eyes again, your face blood hot and burning all shades of crimson. Your own doctor hadn’t even seen you this naked. No man had seen you in this state. And now you were being forced with a threat to your own life if you didn’t. Not exactly how you pictured this moment.

“Please don’t make me,” you pleaded. 

“Y/N,” his voice warned. 

You turned slowly to face him, shivering in the nervousness of your vulnerable state. You lowered your arms to rest in front of you, still held tightly together by the zip-ties. The position of your hands pressed your breasts together and your nipples hardened in the cool air of the bathroom. The skin over your body was burning underneath his gaze like wildfire. The Grabber’s eyes roamed over you hungrily. You felt like the prey of a vicious animal. His eyes appeared shades darker in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom.  

“Now get in.”

You turned to the clawfoot tub to your right and tentatively stepped into the ceramic basin. You immediately sank to the floor, feeling that at least sitting down obscured more of yourself from his view. 

He started the water for you and the warm water began to pool around you. 

“I can’t really clean myself if my hands are tied,” you countered softly, holding up your bound wrists. The plastic was beginning to dig painfully into your flesh. You hoped he would let you just leave you alone now to bathe yourself and self-wallow. There really wasn’t much you could do to escape now anyway. Unless you somehow made it outside and wanted to run into the street naked.

The Grabber ignored you and knelt at the side of the tub, grabbing a nearby washcloth and bar of soap. 

You swallowed.

He began to suds the cloth with soap, dampening the terrycloth under the running water. 

You had to admit that the warm water was incredibly soothing to your aching muscles.

He raised the cloth over your exposed back and gently wrung out the sudsy water, droplets trickling down your back. The water washed away the dried blood and tinted the water surrounding you to light pink. He continued to wash the rest of your body. All of your body. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” The Grabber finally spoke, draining the tub and allowing it to refill again with clean water. 

“Sure have a funny way of showing it,” you murmured. 

You watched him closely as he pulled out a bottle of shampoo. He made sure to wet your head before beginning to suds your scalp with shampoo. You got whiffs of a woodsy scent, particularly pine, musk, and sandalwood. You realized he was cleaning your hair with his shampoo, and part of you shivered knowing that now even his scent had taken control over you. There was something…oddly very intimate about him bathing you, and you wondered what gave him the sudden change of heart. 

He finished washing your hair and allowed the tub to drain a final time, urging you to stand.

You were face to face with the older man, watching him closely as his eyes focused on drying your body. Without thinking, you found yourself reaching out to his face. Your bound hands had just barely grazed the ceramic when he hissed in warning, his own flying up to grasp yours. He gripped you tightly. The plastic zip ties dug further into your skin. 

“Why do you hide behind this?” You murmured, watching his cerulean eyes meet yours with an intense gaze. 

“Y/N,” he cautioned. 

“You’ve seen all of me…it’s only fair you let me see you,” you breathed, almost in a whisper. 

He released the grasp on your wrists and watched you carefully. You continued to his face, resting your left palm against his cheek. His face was warm and . He closed his eyes, clearly relishing the contact of your touch. You briefly wondered when the last time someone had willingly touched him.

You knew there was no coming back from seeing the man’s full face. Typically when an assailant showed their face, it meant eventual death for the victim. So you honestly weren’t quite sure why you did what you were about to do. 

You tugged at the edges of the mask, awkwardly managing to lift the ceramic veil from his forehead. The mask fell to the linoleum tile with a clatter. 

His eyes remained closed, almost as if he was embarrassed by the reveal of his full appearance. You realized this was his vulnerability. His nakedness. 

You noticed that he really was handsome. His forehead had worry lines and showed typical signs of age. You oddly found it endearing. 

His eyes opened and slowly met yours, his eyebrows drawn together. He drew in a sharp breath. 

Your eyes flicked down to his lips, and part of you wondered what it would be like to kiss them. 

Almost as if he could see the wheels turning in your head, he cleared his throat and abruptly bent to the floor, grabbing the mask and placing it back over his forehead. You put your arms back down in front of you, only slightly disappointed. 

He reached back to his pocket, pulling out the switchblade again.

Fuck. Had you gone too far?

He grabbed your wrists and split the zip ties in two with ease. 

Oh. 

You rubbed your hands carefully, the pink indent prominent on the softness of your inner wrists. You looked up at him, slightly unnerved. He pointed to the pile of clothes on the corner of the sink vanity.

“Get dressed. I’ll take you back downstairs,” he said quietly. 

He then swiftly left, leaving you all alone in the bathroom and leaving you even more curious and perplexed than before. 

-

Chapter 6 coming soon!

Tags: @strrvnge, @astroo-babe, @salemross, @alice-the-nerd, @norriebunny, @oui-aboo, @friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan, @uzsi, @chaos-in-person, @person-124, @solaetadzio, @eddies-van86​

#grabber x reader #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #grabber x you #albert shaw #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x reader #the black phone #ethan hawke #slashers #slashers x reader #horror fanfic

[willshipanything-blog]

Rules of the Game- Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of my new fic is complete!

See Chapter Index here.

Or go to the work on AO3 to leave a comment if you're feeling up to it! Detailed tags on AO3, but generally gonna get darker so minors DNI! Nothing too dark yet, but watch this space...

Chapter 3: Possibilities

A pale light greeted you coldly as you awoke from a night of fitful sleep. So whatever that lunatic had sprayed in your face hadn’t blinded you. You made a mental note to thank him graciously for this, the asshole. Your mental optimism wasn’t going to last very long you realized; you needed to start thinking of a tangible plan of how you might possibly survive this situation, how you could avoid becoming another victim of the Grabber. 

Sitting up warily, you noted that your head still pounded, though it hurt considerably less than last night. It wouldn’t hurt your kidnapper to leave you a couple Advil before murdering you, would it? You took several large breaths, preparing to heave yourself upright. Standing up, your head again began to throb achingly, and you had to hold yourself up by the nearest wall for a few moments to stop the dizzying effect. 

Looking finally at your surroundings, you realized what a bleak situation this truly was. A room (a basement, you determined) of solid concrete entrapped you on all sides. A stone cage that the Grabber had ensnared you in. Feeling panic start to rise in your throat, you pushed back this feeling with all the gall you could muster. Panicking didn’t do you any good last night, and you needed a clear head to find a plausible way to escape this dire position you’d found yourself in. You needed ideas.

The window. A small window to your left, perhaps just large enough for a child to crawl through, was placed maybe six feet above the ground. A solid-looking metal grate guarded the glass behind. Possibility 1: you somehow pry open the grate, open the window and call for help. The faded gray light outside indicated it was early morning. What if he was waking? How long until he came back down? You needed other options.

The door. A heavy-looking metal door stood facing the bed you’d been placed in the night before. It was locked, of course. The strange-looking handle wouldn’t budge despite you twisting and pulling as much as your depleted strength allowed. It must lock from the outside. Possibility 2: you hide behind the door and somehow sneak around the Grabber when he comes through, locking him in his own cage. This seemed unlikely; you urged yourself to keep looking. 

The toilet. Looking up from trying to pry open the metal door you noted a small corridor. Walking down this narrow passage, you turned a corner. A squalid toilet sat cheerlessly at the foot of the hallway. Half a roll of limp toilet paper sat atop the tank lid, and a few rolls of carpet laid along the wall of this area. Sickening thoughts drove through your head. Does he wrap up the bodies in the carpets, ready to throw in the nearest river? How many other victims had used that exact same roll of paper? You forced your mind from these grim thoughts back to your escape plan. Shifting the toilet paper, you gripped the tank lid firmly, pulled it up a couple inches, and immediately dropped it back into place with an echoing thunk. In your current state, you were not going to have the strength to use it as a weapon. Possibility 3: wait until you’re stronger (if that ever happened) and swing it at that bastard’s face.

The phone. Returning back to the bigger space you’d woken in, you spotted a black box on the wall near to the mattress. You hadn’t noticed this before, but approaching it you saw before you a black rotary phone attached firmly to the wall. You discerned the wire that had been cut. Of course your kidnapper wasn’t about to leave a working phone available for his victim to use, but you picked up the receiver nonetheless. You held it to your ear with a shaky hand. Your other hand reached knowingly, forlornly to the digits engraved on the phone, but no dial tone was heard. Only the empty, hopeless sound of the plastic wheel springing back into place. No calls for help then, clearly. Possibility 4: maybe pry it off the wall and repurpose into a weapon of some sort. You felt your plans becoming more and more unlikely with each idea that formulated in your mind. 

“It doesn’t work, hang it up.”

You twisted your body around to face the voice, your back once again slamming into the hard wall in shock. Involuntarily, you let out a strangled gasp. Too occupied with thinking up an escape plan, you hadn’t heard the door open. The first glimpse of the man who had trapped you in this room told you why his speech sounded muffled. He wore a white mask that grinned demonically from ear to ear with devilled horns protruding from it. A thin line appeared to bisect the mask inexplicably in two above the sculpted nose. The man’s penetrating blue eyes were the only visible part of his face. Just about the creepiest damn thing you could have imagined.

You remained static and silent, holding the phone uselessly to your chest as you stared open-mouthed at the figure. 

“I said, it doesn’t work.”

“Why’s it down here?” You startled yourself by replying so casually to this maniac.

“Has been since I was a kid. Now, hang. It. Up.” He enunciated those final three words in a low guttural rumble, and you noted his bulky forearms flex and his hands ball into fists. You weighed up your very limited options, and decided antagonizing this psychopath would not be beneficial right now. Slowly, you unwound the phone cable from around your twisted body before replacing the receiver with a short clatter. 

His demeanor changed instantly. His arms relaxed and the bulging veins disappeared from his tense muscles. He tilted his head and again adopted his lilting, childish voice. “Good girl. Now, if you want some breakfast, you need to answer me one question. And you need to answer me honestly. What’s your name?”

Was it some kind of test? You racked your brain wondering why the Grabber would want the name of someone he’s seemingly about to slaughter. You remember the bookbag you were carrying when you first encountered the Grabber, your driver’s license in the wallet. Not wanting to make him wait any longer, you spoke shakily. 

“Y/N.”

He gave a faint nod, and his voice suggested he was satisfied. 

“Good. Honestly is the best policy as they say,” here he chuckled faintly before lowering his voice an octave. “And I’ll always know when you’re lying to me, Y/N.” Your name on his lips felt nauseating. Here his voice once again switched back to the childish intonation “Now, how about some breakfast, hm?”

You couldn’t keep up with this act, the see-sawing of different personalities contained within one body. If this was a trick to deliberately unsettle you, it was sure as shit working. 

Still in the doorway, the Grabber’s upper body angled to reach for something behind him. Whilst his back was turned, you dared to glimpse past him, noting a set of stairs leading upwards. So you were in his basement after all. 

He spun back around with a flourish, holding a tray with a plate of scrambled eggs and a bottle of Sprite balanced on it. He moved a couple of paces into the room before squatting to settle the tray down gently on the floor. He kept crouched down, resting on the balls of his feet as a tilt of his head indicated he wanted you to eat. Your famished, dehydrated body wouldn’t refuse the offer. 

You approached the tray tentatively, trying to ignore the fact that he was crouched on the other side of it. Stooping to take the plate and bottle would mean coming within inches of him. You lowered your head as you sank to his eye level, avoiding his gaze as you dragged the tray slowly away from him. A ringed hand grabbed the other side in protest. The shock of this action forced your eyes to dart to his, his deep blue irises staring hungrily through the ghostly pale mask. 

He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly. 

“Uh-uh. It stays there or you don’t eat.” So his aim here was humiliation, huh? It almost wasn’t worth it, but the ache in your stomach was hard to ignore, the pangs of hunger almost as painful as the wounds he’d inflicted on your face. You knelt down with a huff, your knees slapping the cold concrete below you. Realizing no cutlery had been provided to you, you scoffed and indignantly scooped the rubbery eggs awkwardly into your mouth, doing your best to ignore the red flash rising in your cheeks. In between greedy mouthfuls you guzzled the cold Sprite, the fizzy drink scratching your sore throat.  

Still not meeting his gaze, he eventually rose slowly as you carried on devouring the meal in front of you. With your eyes down, you could observe only his heavy boots within a hair’s breadth of your kneeling form. You could hear breathing and felt his glare burning the back of your head. This was an unpleasant position you found yourself in. Finishing the last morsels on the plate, an uncomfortable moment followed. You stayed knelt down, eyes averted from the looming figure above you. His feet didn’t move. 

What felt like hours, though was likely only around 30 seconds, passed in silence, save for both of your breathings, yours haggard and uneven, his low and steady. He wants you to do something. Keep on his good side, Y/N. You rose cautiously, picking the tray up with you. You stood to face him, though you were a good head shorter than him, your eyes staring straight into his broad chest. You held out the tray, daring finally to look up at the masked man. You couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes, his obscured face hiding his emotions. Was he surprised? Angry? Pleased? You could only guess as he withdrew the tray from your grasp, turned without a word and left the room. The door latched with a final thud of metal, and the discernible click of the lock. 

You stumbled over to collapse on the stained mattress before your legs gave way beneath you. You couldn’t begin to fathom what this madman had planned. His constant fluctuations of mood and voice was beyond unnerving, and his ghoulish mask and clear physical strength terrified you. The thought of what had become of the Grabber’s previous victims meant you knew this situation was dire, though likely to be short-lived. You thought yourself an optimist, but the glass was looking pretty fucking empty from where you were standing. 

Al had stuck to his usual rules, more or less. The start of the game was a good time to gauge their behaviors, their reactions to him. Subtle changes made him somewhat uneasy; he couldn’t ignore the heat within him as he watched her at his feet, those E/C doe eyes avoiding his glare. Nor could he avoid the hint of her cleavage down her blouse and she knelt suggestively beneath him. She was inviting him, almost. Or perhaps he had known this would happen, why he had chosen to have her eat at his feet as he watched, unlike with the boys…

She’s playing along, for now. Trying to please me. That will make it all the more satisfying when she becomes a naughty girl. I’ll have to try and coax that bad behavior out of her. Soon; but let’s enjoy her squirm for a few days more. 

#the black phone #black phone #the grabber #the grabber x reader #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw #grabber x you #the grabber x you #new fic #slashers #slasher fandom

[dancingisdangerouss]

Non Compos Mentis

You’re working as a psychologist at a psychiatric inpatient institution in Denver, CO. After the horrific events in The Black Phone, the serial killer dubbed “The Galesburg Grabber” survives an attack from his final victim, and is deemed by the courts to be criminally insane—and not only court-ordered to be treated at your hospital, but also assigned to you as a patient.

You are now tasked with counseling and ultimately rehabilitating a sadistic child murderer. What could possibly go wrong?

…

I finally got the first chapter published! So this is the other fic I’ve been talking about for forever.

It’s essentially a twisted, psychological romance-not-romance that centers around transference and obsession, wherein an inpatient psychologist’s serial killer patient falls in misguided, one-sided love with her (which is, fascinatingly enough, not the least bit uncommon with therapists) and will do anything to make her his.

Fun stuff!

Link to the story is here: X

#yayyyy #I’m dead #this took fucking forever #because the first chapter is boring as hell #but we’ll get there #yknow I’m a tension hoe #penny for your thots #the black phone #the grabber x reader #grabber #black phone #the grabber #the black phone 2022 #grabber x reader #x reader #grabber x you #Albert shaw #the grabber x you #Albert shaw x reader #Albert shaw x you #y/n #ao3 #tw dead dove do not eat #dark story #psychological horror #tw: rape #not a romance #ethan hawke

[artsyanapink]

I have started writting a Grabber x reader fanfiction a while ago because Ethan's performance and *cough* *cough* shirtless scene still makes me feel some type of way. 🥴😩

It's on my wattpad under @Slut4Isaacs as well as my Archiveofourown Nana0cookie ☺️🌸💖🌼

Archiveofourown:

Wattpad:

#the black phone #black phone #ethan hawke #is hot af #my mask kink is tingling #the mask #grabber x reader #grabber x you #ethan hawke x reader

[slasher-male-wife]

Slashers when you succumb to Stockholm syndrome

So @slasherhaven wrote for this idea before but I wanted to write for it too. I didn't really reference their head canons too much just to make sure that I'm not copying them but I did get the idea from them. These are in the form of little drabbles because I liked them better than head canons

Includes: The Grabber, Brahms Heelshire, Pyramid Head and Bo Sinclair

Warnings: Manipulation, kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome

The Grabber

When he opens the basement door he finds you asleep, like he planned to find you. He's been watching you sleep since you first came here a month ago. He carefully shuts the door and makes his way over to the floor by the bed. He watches your chest move up and down as you sleep. A few minutes later he sees your eyes open. But instead of screaming or moving away from him, you smile. Catching him off guard.

"You came to check on me?" You whisper to him. It takes a few moments before he nods, "I'm glad you care about me. I like that." Slowly he realizes what's happening with you, a smile spread across his masked face.

"Of course I care about you dove. I took you because I care about you. I'm glad you know that I care." He moves in closer to you and strokes your hair out of your face. You shut your eyes again and drift back to sleep. He knows you don't really love him, but that doesn't matter. You think you love him, and you won't be leaving anytime soon.

Brahms Heelshire

When Brahms wakes up to your voice he's scared at first. Quickly sitting up in his bed.

"Good morning Brahms," You say with a smile on your face, "I hope you're ready to start your day." He's caught off guard by the shift in your attitude. He had to drag you everywhere with him just a few days ago. But now, two months into knowing the real Brahms, you're actually following the schedule. He can't see any signs of you crying either. He thinks that you've finally accepted life here with him.

"I am Y/n. I'm glad to see you finally happy."

"Of course Brahms. Now let's get changed then we can eat." He nods getting out of bed while you pull out his new clothes. He could get very used to this.

Pyramid Head

After having to leave to deal with some intruders Pyramid Head returns to the building that he's kept you in for a few months now. When he walks in he notices you're still not fighting him like you were before. He unties your hands from a radiator that he keeps you attached to while he's gone and you don't try to run away from him.

He steps away from you to see if you'll try to run then but you don't.

"I'm not going to leave you," You say to him, "You're keeping me safe and alive and I don't want to ruin that. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his torso, "I promise I won't leave."

Pyramid head is very confused about this but he doesn't question you on it. He simply puts his arms lightly around you too and hugs you back. He doesn't care why you changed like this all of the sudden, he just cares that you're finally trusting him.

Bo Sinclair

It's been months since you first came to Ambrose. You gave up on fighting Bo awhile ago and now you're locked inside the house while he's gone. But when he came home today he found you cooking dinner for him in the kitchen.

"Darlin'?" He asks. You used to tell him not to call you that and you never responded to it but today you turn and look at him with a smile.

"Hi Bo. I thought I would make dinner for you since you're so busy today, I hope you don't mind."

"Not t'all Y/n," He has an idea of what's going on with you but he doesn't want to really say its Stockholm syndrome yet. But when he puts his hands on your hips while standing behind you, and you hum out approval, he knows you're in Stockholm syndrome, but he doesn't care. You're finally accepting your new life here, and that's all he's ever wanted.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber x y/n #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms x reader #brahms my beloved #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[bosinclairsgff]

Random slasher headcanons

I HAVE WRITERS BLOCK UGH!! </3 Also yeah I am aware no one cares about Jack but I am really into Ghost Ship rn so let me be happy..

Includes: Bo Sinclair, The Grabber, Jack Ferriman and Mark Hoffman

Warnings:

(I did not make any of the GIFS used in this post)

Bo Sinclair

He gets jealous very easily. When a group shows up in Ambrose, he makes sure everyone knows who you belong to. He loves to mark you up with hickeys to really bring home the message.

Whenever he gets the chance, his hands are all over you. Touching you whenever he wants and trying to make you know how much he loves you.

Bo loves when you come down to the shop and hang out with him. Showing you the music he likes and talking to you about what he's working on.

He sucks at cooking...so you do most of the cooking.

Bo would say he's not hungry then eat half of your food.

His favorite pet name to call you is darlin.

The Grabber

Albert would take a long time to even open up a little bit with you but when he does, he feels safe with you. He'll tell you about his day and what his life is like. Sometimes he'll even let you ask his personal questions.

If he has had, you for a long time he might slowly let you leave the basement some. Giving you baths/showers and letting you eat upstairs with him when he's alone.

He would still punish you when you do something he thinks is bad and the punishment will still really hurt.

Now he isn't super experienced with being in a relationship, so he does what he sees on tv or what he sees coupls do in public.

His favorite pet names to call you are dove and doll.

I think he would actully be good at magic tricks and enjoy doing them for anyone who asked to see one.

Jack Ferriman

Jack can be very playful and silly but in a bit of a dark way. He makes dark jokes and does mean pranks.

He loves you so you he always protects you and makes sure you don't have to watch his work play out. He knows you don't want to see all those people get hurt but he has to do it.

The pet names he usually calls you are sweetheart, darling and doll.

Though he can be very nice he can also be incredibly mean and hateful. You try your hardest to not make him super mad.

He does get very jealous when guys even look in your direction. When he can he'll kiss you in front of all of them, so they know your taken.

His favorite thing to do is take showers with you and wash you off.

Mark Hoffman

Mark always tries to make time for you, but he is very busy. He hates that he doesn't get more alone time with you.

He would drink coffee every chance he gets.

I think he would definitely be very possessive of you. He would always know where you are and make sure your safe. Mark is always worried about you.

His love language is touch for sure and words of affirmation. Whenever you are out and about, he's holding your and or he has an arm around you.

Pet names he calls you are babe, baby and sweet girl.

He learns what the word gaslight means and then whenever you do something he doesn't like he says your gaslighting him when he is actually gaslighting you.

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #the grabber #house of wax #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x reader #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman fluff #saw movie #saw 2004 #saw franchise #saw #saw movies #ghost ship 2002 #jack ferriman #albert shaw #slasher headcanons

[jokeringcutio]

Request Fill: Tears ( Grabber x Reader )

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

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

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

TEARS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you knew what it meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you were mistaken.

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

You instantly knew where he wanted to strike.

No. Anywhere but there.

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

"Say it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I like it, Daddy..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, a low hum.

“Delicious, little one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ Fin ~

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

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

[aecassie]

🍮 ׄ ִ ᰍ キティ ۪ ᰱ . ♡. ៹  痛み  ˒ 11:11  ⸼  ૮₍꜆꜄ ˃ ³ ˂ ₎ა    ૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ૮₍⑅˶•▿•˶

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 (𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 <3

𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚! 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

໒ྀིっ˕ -｡ྀི১⠀ᨦʕ •̥ ˕ ก ʔᨩ 💗 ꒱⠀_(:3 」∠)_🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -- ,,🍥 ·˚ ༘ ꒱🍧 .˚ ᵎ┊͙◟

Nasty, Arrogant, Violent, Impulsive, Scary, Selfish…

In Denver, that's how they referred to Vance.

If they only knew, if they only knew him as much as you know him, they would know that he is not quite like that, they would know that behind all that violence and anger there was a sensitive and insecure boy.

You were his safe haven, the one he trusted, the person he turned to every time he fought and left minimally hurt, the person he leaned on his lap like a little child and slept peacefully. It was you. It has always been you.

It was 1978, a gray, rainy afternoon, you and Vance snuggled together on top of the old white mattress.

He had his face resting on your torso and warm hands on your hips. It was like it was the first time he'd slept, he was so relaxed and peaceful.

Until thunder echoes, and he soon wakes up.

"Nature sucks, what the fuck" -- Vance grumbles rubbing his eyes not fully conscious

Thanks to Vance's displeasure and thanks to nature's goodwill, you stir a little and wake up.

"Han? What hears love?" -- You question with a humor totally opposite to Vance's, placing your delicate hands in the gold locks of Vance as he reposition your hands on your waist and sink your head into your neck, hair tickling your rosy cheek

"Goddamn thunder, now I can't sleep." - Vance answers with a muffled voice because of the position of his face.

"Calm down, blondie. You'll be able to sleep fast, trust me!" -- You place a kiss on the blonde's forehead, who raises his head and looks at you confused

"How can you be in a good mood at a time like this? With a climate like this? Fuck! And other, how the hell are you going to make me sleep like this, all of a sudden?" -- Vance sits on the bed fingering your waist

"First: because I'm an angel of person, and second: it's simple, come here" -- You respond leaning on the headboard, opening your arms to Vance, who just shrugs and lies between your legs with the head on your neck again

"What are you going to do, savior of homelands?" -- Vance raises the doubt and comforts himself more and more in your embrace

"Let's see, arcade fairy" -- You say, laughing softly

"Arcade fairy? Really?" -- Vance gives you mortal look, what gives you freedom to laugh even more, he keeps looking at you, leans and kisses you calmly, holding your chin with one hand and with the other free caressing your waist

Soon you start patting Vance's back, patting his hair, playing with his fingers, whispering nonsense in his ear, etc.

"I don't think it's going to work, Paraguay Barbie" -- Vance says laughing at you, who cover his mouth lightly with your right hand

Without even realizing it, Vance had already passed out in your arms, not even a stone dropped on top of him would wake him up. You looked at the scene hastily, chuckled and tucked him into bed. Vance grumbled a little when you took him off your lap to lay he on the fine white sheets, something like: "let me sleep 3 more fucking minutes"

Lying down next to Vance, you felt strong arms around you. Looking back, saw him clinging to your waist, hot breath hitting the back of your neck, which shivered from the contact.

"Thank you for loving me." -- He surprisingly sayed

"Don't thank me for the effect you owe yourself, Hopper"

"I must, since you did the same to me."

Yeah, that got you. Hearing the boy stronger and "evil" of Denver saying that, left you in ecstasy, blushed you and you felt your heart speed in a matter of seconds, your reaction was kissing Vance, who hugs you with more force

That was the last hug between you two.

˖ ࣪ 𓂂 ˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ 🦷 ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ ˖◡̈˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ*･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺゜ ⤾·˚ ༘◡̈˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ

@ahzysauce, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡! <3

🍙 ⌒ 。ﾟ๑* ♡ 𓏲🍋◌𐨿ʚ ї ɞ ː͡  ꜜ   ͙🍚♡ ⃞ ׅ ࣪  𓂃   ꒰ 🥞 ꒱𖦹  ִ  ֺ 🧸 • 🍯 ✿𝅼 (੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ 

! 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒!

◡̈⍣ ೋ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡﹋꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐*:･ﾟ༊*࿐ ࿔*:*:･ﾟ༊*࿐ ࿔**:･ﾟ༊*࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ✧˖*💌 ꒱

#vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper x you #vance x reader #vance the black phone #the black phone #the grabber #the black phone 2022 #robin arellano #your boyfriend yn #fem reader #x reader #female reader #vinnie x reader

[myers-meadow]

Punishment (Grabber x reader)

This was requested by @gotproblems and the anon who wanted 'angry sex', so thank you for sending this in.

I wrote this in a fever haze while on a three hour train ride and almost missed my stop. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Link to my writing masterlist.

Summary: Days flow by as normal, but Al has many rules you can unknowingly break. One day that happens, and a punishment awaits you.

Genderneutral reader, and body neutral. Established relationship.

Warnings: This is the harshest, meanest smut I've written so far. Grabber is the warning. 18 +. Knife play, slapping, painful sex (?). Use of 'doll'. Oral (m receiving), implied dom/sub relationship, punishment. Please tell me if I forgot a warning.

Wordcount: 887

Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

It’s been long since you last felt genuinely afraid of Al. Not to misunderstand, his temper and murderous tendencies remained as they always had been, but you’d grown comfortable with him. Did you need it – the fear? Was his unpredictability not part of what attracted you to him? Did he go easy on you now that the relationship was established?

You shook it off – you liked him sweet (and loved him harsh). Life continued as it had, only occasionally daydreaming about some of the earlier, less routine, more intense moments, between you and him.

But good things only last so long. How did it happen? What did you do that upset him? Did it even matter?

Al came home on Friday, you came to greet him, drying your hands on a tea towel - and immediately he pushed you face first into the wall. Within seconds, he tugs at your trousers, pushes up your shirt. A cold drag over the skin – a knife. As he tugged on the fabric, the knife slid through, he tore it the rest of the way and it dropped to the floor. You hissed as he dragged his fingers over your back, clearly he hadn’t been careful enough. Shallow cuts where the blade had grazed you. You said something under your breath, something meaningless, a hiss of pain.

“You have a lot to answer for,” said Al, voice dark. “You’ve been bad.”

This was something else. Only once before had he sounded like this, and that- His breath was on your ear. His hat fell to the floor with a thunk, his foot kicked your legs open.

Again, you tried to speak, to ask what it even was that you did wrong, to apologise, but he shushed you.

“Let your actions speak, doll, show me how sorry you are.”

Adrenaline pulsed through your veins and sharpened the senses. He undid his belt, the metal clinking and its cold steel pressed into your ass. The push of the thick head of his cock between your legs immediately quieted your mind. The grain of the wall pressed uncomfortably into your cheek as he pushed deeper into you. He wanted this to hurt. At the same time, the arousal, fuelled by the fear and the adrenaline, churned in your gut. The position put pressure on your windpipe, the wall rough against your cheek.

He growled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Your sensitive nerves beat in time with your heart, anticipation exciting you further. He hit an amazing spot inside and you could only gasp and moan in response. Before the sensations could build any further, he pulled out, and roughly pushed you down to your knees. Still hazy, vision only focussing when you looked up at him, you stared helplessly and confused.

“I said, show me how sorry you are.”

You moaned at just his voice and the throb between your legs, and Al pried your mouth open with a hand lodged on your jaw. He shuddered as he slid in. The taste of him, salty, bitter… All him. He hit the back of your throat and held your head with a warm hand to go deeper.

“Yes, that’s more like it.”

Every thought disappeared from your mind, there was only the sounds of his pleasure as they left his lips, and the movement of your tongue and how you relaxed around him to best please him. Praise rained over you, outweighing the tightness of his grip.

Then, somehow, his shaft scaped against your teeth. He pulled out immediately, a sting hit your cheek before you had a chance to register what was happening.

“Come on, is that how you show your love to me?”

A second, a third slap. It burned hot.

“It was an accident, I’m sorry,” you gasped. More gently, his thumb wiped spit from your lips, and he pressed the head of his dick in between again. You opened willingly, still breathing hard.

“You can do better, doll.” His tone was mean, outright degrading even, but the way he looked at you was the same as it had always been. You swallowed him down, careful to fold your lips over your teeth.

“Yes, like that, much better.” Even his praise sounded cruel. You pushed on, breathing when he allowed you, sucking on the head as best you could. It didn’t take much longer for him to finish, sticky and bitter down your throat. He pulled back, caressing your head, and you licked your lips. With a deep sigh, satisfied, he tucked himself back into his trousers.

“Ah, what am I to do with you?” he murmured, with the corners of his eyes adoringly crinkled as he smiled down at you. With firm hands that were a great contrast to the lack of strength you felt in your own legs, he helped you up.

“Let’s get you to the shower. I’ll call the diner for some take-out, it’s a Friday night, after all.”

How he could sound so cheerful right after had your mind reeling, but you smiled and pulled your underwear back up your legs.

Before you reached the stairs, he grabbed your arm, “You know I love you, right?”

Not expecting an answer, he let go and turned his attention to the phone on the wall, dialling the number to the diner.

#the grabber #the grabber smut #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #the black phone #the black phone 2022 #the grabber x gn reader #gn reader #albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you #minors dni #grabber x reader #grabber #grabber x you

[silversquirtle]

IVE MADE MORE MEMES

#the black phone memes #the grabber x reader #the grabber #the black phone #albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #black phone #best memes #ethan hawke #grabber x you

[cerebellam]

Tag, You’re It - Chapter 4

The Grabber x Female Reader

Summary: The Grabber comes to some realizations about you

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

Masterlist: X

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

*The next morning* 

The Grabber’s POV:

Albert emerged from the depths of the basement, making sure to meticulously lock the doors and his precious secret away.

He entered the kitchen and removed his mask, the extension of his darkest personas, and hid it away in one of the empty cupboards next to the fridge. He knew his younger brother Max wouldn’t dare snoop in his own dear, older brother’s house. 

Ah, Max.

Al’s younger brother had been staying w for the past few months, making Al’s…activities much harder to hide from him. Albert had offered Max a place to crash while he was in search of a job and attempting to get back on his feet. Needless to say, Max was struggling to find a way to stand on his own.

But, he wasn’t a terrible guest. He had lived most of his childhood alongside his sibling anyway, what was different about it now?

Well, their mother wasn’t around doing drugs at the kitchen table or bringing home strange men.

Albert quickly shook away the thought. Their mother was of no interest to him now.

Poor Max, however, had taken after their mother and inherited the gene for addiction. He was frequently using cocaine, and much to Al’s dismay, on his fucking living room coffee table.

“I told you to quit that stuff,” he had told Max one night after he came home from work to find him almost unconscious in the bathtub. “It’s a nasty habit I don’t want in this house.”

“It helps me think, Al. Calms me down…maybe you should try it.”

“I’d rather snort fucking asbestos. Although, that’s what you might as well be doing.”

“Fuck off.”

Max was just an idiot. But his idiot, nonetheless.

Thankfully, as of late his brother’s need for the fix had dwindled as he found some purpose in tracking the missing person cases. He still used it to ‘think’, but Al was just thankful something else was occupying his little brother’s time. Even if it had to be at his own expense. One wrong move and everything would come crashing down. He wouldn’t let it come to that.

Albert grabbed a soda from the fridge and made his way to the living room, twisting off the top cap with the help of one of his rings. He took a quick sip of the carbonated beverage. 

“Dude, what happened to your neck?” Max gawked at the large white bandage on his sibling’s neck. He was sitting on the couch, a pile of papers scattered in front of him. 

“Maybe you should ask your dog.”

Max glanced over to Samson. The obsidian-colored canine lay quietly in the corner of the room, fast asleep.

“You’re always blaming the damn dog. You know he wouldn’t hurt you, Al. He’s all bark and absolutely no bite. Really, what happened?”

Albert sighed, making his way to his easy chair and sinking down onto the cushion.

“Shaving.”

Max chuckled. 

“You’re always so tense. ‘Prolly nicked yourself gripping that damn razor like a vise-grip.”

Albert ignored his brother, changing the subject.

“Did you find anything today?”

“Oh yeah. Have you seen the news?”

Albert mentally rolled his eyes. His brother was far too invested in the disappearances for his own good and frankly, Al wasn’t in the mood to hear his incredibly inaccurate and wild conspiracies. He was afraid his living room was turning into a police precinct with all the evidence boards and red string. He sighed deeply.

“I meant a job, Max.”

“Um, no…but I feel like I can really help crack it this time. It’s getting really interesting, now. He’s breaking his pattern.”

Albert smirked to himself. He wasn’t one to break pattern, and he didn’t intend on it. Although, the change was likely to buy him some time. 

“No, I haven’t seen the news recently,” he breathed. “Why?”

The younger mustache-sporting man grabbed a newspaper from the coffee table and flung it toward his brother. 

“The Grabber kidnapped another victim. It’s a young girl. She’s a nurse from the local hospital, really pretty thing,” his large chocolate eyes worried, “It’s a shame.”

Al took the black and white paper in his hands and opened the roll to find your story on the front page. He stared at the photo of you printed on the newsprint, taking up a large portion of the page. It was your nursing school graduation photo from a few years prior. You wore your uniform, white cap and all, smiling innocently at the camera. 

‘Young Local Nurse Y/N L/N Missing. The Grabber’s Latest Victim?’ The title read. 

The article discussed your achievements and how you moved here to Denver from out of town a few years ago to attend college. Your coworkers described you as a hard-working young woman with bright future, always kind and willing to lend a helping hand. 

Boy, had Al hit the jackpot finding you. You had jumped to his aid without a second thought. 

No, you weren’t Al’s typical targeted demographic- sure, he kidnapped plenty of women, men, kids…just to satisfy the urge of his true desire: the ultimate power he felt taking a life. 

But Al had been watching you. He had seen you leaving work a few times, always late leaving your shifts. You usually looked tired, your hair a mess, and a worried frown on your brows. 

You were…beautiful to Albert. And clearly unaware of it. He was still baffled by your relationship status, he was so sure you had a beau at home. You had captivated him. Something not many were capable of doing. So yes, Al had taken a younger woman. So what?

Al had certainly considered killing you and having you join the rest of his unfortunate victims, but oh no, no…there was something…special about you. Something innocent. Something pure. As if you could make him a good person just by your presence alone. His angel. 

No, Albert wouldn’t kill you. But he was going to make you his.

- 

Chapter 5

Tags: @strrvnge​, @astroo-babe, @salemross, @alice-the-nerd, @norriebunny, @oui-aboo, @friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan, @uzsi, @chaos-in-person, @person-124, @solaetadzio

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#the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #The grabber fanfic #the black phone #ethan hawke #grabber x reader #grabber x you #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x reader #slasher #slasher fandom #slashers x reader #al shaw

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 3

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

For now, Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here

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

Chapter 3- House Guest(s)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Al x

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was your day, little dove?”

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

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

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

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

— — — — — — 

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

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

“Max, this is-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was all you, dove. You-”

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

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

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

— — — — — — 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dancingisdangerouss]

Plagiarism PT 1

Oof, this is going to be a long one, lads…So, in regards to the whole fic situation:

I tried to be nice about it, and offer the chance to come clean, but I'm nothing if not petty, so...Here we go. It's a lot. A lot-alot. I had to split it into two posts.

I’m going to kick this whole thing off with my biggest chunk of evidence that I have! See if you can spot the difference:

My fic: “‘You’re The Grabber.’ It was a statement, not a question.”

Hers: “‘You’re the Grabber.’ It wasn’t a question, but a statement.”

Hmmmm. 🤔 Anyway.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have taken the time to do all this if I was told upfront that my writing was being emulated, and then got a mini credit in the beginning as being the springboard/starting point or guide for the style. But I’m still being told that I’m a liar and that I’m being hurtful and cruel/seeing things that aren’t there, and that’s not fair to me to make me think I’m crazy when I’m not the only one to have seen it. So I’ve kind of gone off the deep end here from nauseous and guilty to really angry.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen multiple fics now that I also think have drawn from some of my stuff—but I’m okay with that, for the most part. Little things aren’t too big of a deal, especially if it’s 2-3 of the same ideas/content.

I would feel much less anxious if they had other works posted before that one, so you could get a taste of their writing style beforehand. I’ve read A LOT of fics and books in my lifetime, but I convinced myself I was just losing it and looking too deep into things…Not a nice feeling to have.

But I asked multiple other people to tell me their honest opinion (all of whom told me they noticed the same thing), and went back and re-read/combed through the fic with a fine-toothed comb.

Some notes on the writing structure itself: Like I said, I’ve read a lot. You’re going to have styles that resemble one another, it’s inevitable. There are works out there eons above my level, with some of the most eloquent and beautiful writing I’ve ever seen.

All my friends write, and they all have unique styles, none of which catch my eye. I’ve even read other fics that had some similarities, but not enough to make me look twice—but this work made me double-taking many times.

This, coupled with the fact that it was a grabber x reader fic (would I have noticed it as much from a fic in a different fandom? Maybe, maybe not) got me really worried. Maybe if it was one or two things, I’d let it go. Let bygones be bygones. But there were multiple.

Originally I mentioned that she used a line about someone “clutching their pearls!”, which I believe she has since removed. That’s not an uncommon phrase, but certainly not one I’ve seen in anything in a very long time, including movies and books. Frankly I didn’t even notice in the beginning, but a friend of mine pointed it out to me, so I brought it up to her.

So let’s get started. First, the words (and phrases):

Now, obviously, there are some here that are used all the time, all day, every day. I don’t have a trademark on any words, and many on this list are commonly known in literature. I picked the ones that most stood out to me as words I tend to most repeat/use in my writing, along with ones that I’ve actually never seen in another work of fiction in my lifetime, minus the original text it came from.

So yea, I know a lot of them are commonly used—but the fact that they are all culminated together when I phrase things in the exact the same way? I can’t brush it off as a coincidence. There were some other words I thought about adding, but I think I have a sufficient amount here.

Also, the words that stood out to me were ones that popped up after my chapters were uploaded (it wasn’t like I’d see a lesser used word in a chapter that I then used in mine and claimed was copying, all the words I’ve found align if you look at the dates as being used after my chapters).

Words are fun! Especially weird, quirky words. So I can’t go policing and hounding after anyone who likes to elevate their vocabulary, and it’s not the least bit bizarre to use eloquent terms. There were just…a lot that matched with mine. Enough to make me pick up on it.

Also? If it were just a few of the uncommon words used, I would still notice, but not think much of it. There were just…so many of them, and the ones listed came after mine. Now, benefit of the doubt here, a lot of these words are used in fics and are not necessarily strange. They’re mostly just ones that caught my attention.

So yeah, sharing a bunch of the same terms in fics is not a red flag by any means, it was just the sheer numbers I noticed (I still haven’t even finished the list, I got tired and stopped after a while, it was too much) alongside the fact that they were all found in another grabber x reader rape fic.

Anyway, here’s the list of words and phrases I found that matched up in our fics, with some additional comments on some of them:

Ceased Wavering in the doorway Labyrinth Endearing Relent/Unrelent Withdrew Etched Certainly “From the impact” (verbatim) Malice Savoring Scarify (I have never seen this anywhere else) Accompanied Butchering Reminiscent- I don’t see this one often at all Blurring Descending Indecisive Appease Surmised- I see this one used very rarely. Reverie Lash out Adorned Curved Indicated Pulled knife out with a squelch Thumbed Inevitably Wordlessly Intently Renewed Dreamstate- I also can’t recall ever having seen this one before. I picked it up years ago after a sleep study. Meekly Scintillated- Another biggie! I’ve never seen this word used before in fics. It also seemed used…somewhat improperly? I mean, it means that something is, like, sparkling or glittering/twinkling, which is apt to be used with eyes. “Scintillated inside your chest” sounds peculiar because it can potentially make sense in a heavily poetic sense, but it really sounds like it’s implying her chest is sparkling. I assume it was meant to come across as “glowing” or something, but the word scintillate doesn’t…really fit. Woeful Elated Self-effacing Forefront of the mind- Not often used. “Front of your mind” is much more common. Forefront is not used near as much. Cursed yourself (for) Bereft Newly- (newly-adorned, newly-exposed) Apoplectic- Quite rarely used, I’ve only seen it myself in one book before Ascertain Puzzlement Obscene Unwarranted Thumb pads- Used often I’m sure, but generally, for some reason, people always use the word “tips” and don’t know that the space at the end of the finger is called a “pad.” Stoically Delectable Intimate Fleck Spittle Simultaneously Unabashedly- Not very commonly used Relinquish Steeled Mangled Surged Discern- I don’t see this one much, so also caught my eye. Usually people just say “determined” or “recognized” or some such variation. Conjure Retort Pornographic Salacious- Again rarely used, less so than others but not often seen You figured Venture Whilst- I…have actually never seen this word used in a fic? It’s one I pepper in myself some to mix things up from using while. I’m sure people use it, obviously, but it’s not a term I have seen in a long time. Coerced Initial Saturate Choked out Bellicose- A biggie!! Can’t remember the time I last saw this word used anywhere, so definitely caught my eye Found yourself (verb) Usher/ushered Gnawing Coherent Averting your eyes Clamped over Presume Viscous (uncommon) Perceived Reverent Jolted “Pain radiating” (verbatim) Regained “Doling out” (verbatim) “Barely (even) registered” (verbatim) Exhalation (uncommon; exhale used in most works) Exertion Suffice Hoisted Unmistakable Perhaps (not the slightest bit uncommon, but yet another thing my English professors have gotten onto me for using too much. We both used it quite liberally) Quite (same exact thing as perhaps. A word I use far too often, because I like the sound of it. Not used near as much by most authors). Certainly (need I say it again? Same as the two above) Particularly (same as above lol) Seemingly Clamoring Ecstacy Elicit (uncommon) “Came into view” (verbatim) Constricting Innards Petulant Tangible Reciprocate “His stomach rippling” (verbatim) Blinking away (something) Hazy glow Recollect/Recollection Save for Falter (of voice) Adept Scarcely “Proceeded to” (verbatim) “In theory” (verbatim)

Carnal Mewl/Mewling Cross-legged (used shortly after chapter where Al sits this way on Y/N’s bed; it is also describing Al sitting down) Distinguish Opportune Concluded “Subjected to” (verbatim) Mutilated “Reflexively” (I never see this used in a verb sense, but here we are) Protrusion

Cowering Vigorously Taken on Frame (body) Elsewhere

Utensil Amorous- Not often used, if ever Utterly Registered (something) Notion “Ever more” (verbatim; becoming more) Produced Amplify/Amplified Damned Amicable (uncommon) Endless Cerulean (used after I had used the term; again not a rare word, but another color I have yet to see used in a fic before, at least personally). Azure (used literally right after I had used azure. By no means a rare or odd word, but strange that they popped up at the same time, since there’s a multitude of color terms out there). Chasm Retreat Discard/Discarding (of clothing) “It’s not like” (verbatim) Hadn’t (improper; most people will split it into Had Not. Most people don’t use the contraction) “All the while” (verbatim) Evident Candid You thought (“But then, you thought, it was…” “Oh sure, you thought, if that…”, etc.). I love adding the “thought” in between to mix it up VS just putting it at the beginning of the sentence. I don’t see people ever do that anymore…until now, evidently. Reprieve Entirely Dismiss Reflexively Expectant (Mine: “hold out an expectant hand,” Hers: “He had only to hold out an expectant hand.” In context, Al is asking for her clothing in both these scenes) Prolong “Presented itself” (I see presented sometimes, but not the full phrase) Splutter Endure Visible/Visibly Blunder Clasping Preferable

#this...took an eternity #but I wanted to show y'all I'm not just making unfounded claims and being a bully #so I took the time to fully gather what I had the energy for #I just wanted to back myself up so y'all can see my POV and why I'm upset #penny for your thots #into the black #the black phone #black acres #the grabber #the grabber x reader #black phone #grabber #albert shaw #x reader #plagiarism #grabber x reader #grabber x you #female reader