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#i want this bitch dead in the ground dead

blairespandora · 2 days

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hiiii can i request smth whumpy??? daryl saying “don’t you touch her” not being able to do anything abt reader being held at knife point. maybe she gets a stab or cut on her side.

A/N: Hii angel <33 tysm for your request!! lmk how you like this! 💕

Daryl and Y/n were walking towards Alexandria when suddenly a group of 4 men ambush them, holding Daryl down and grabbing Y/N at knife point;

He was instantly filled with anger and panic with how fast this had gone downhill. His body strained against the people who held him down and he struggled against them trying to reach you.

“Get yer’ damn hands off ‘er! Touch ‘er and I will rip ya’ to pieces, dumbass!”

One of the men that managed to hold you hostage put a knife right under your chin and glared over at Daryl with a sinister smile upon his face.

“Now now…you don’t get to give orders here. If you want this pretty thing to stay alive, you’ll get on your knees… and be a compliant little bitch”.

Daryl stared at the man with murderous rage in his eyes, his breathing became heavy, but he slowly dropped down to his knees. You could see that the man was very satisfied with his current power over the situation, and he was enjoying it.

You were trying to silently communicate with Daryl but the pressure of the cold blade against your chin was making it hard to focus and stay calm.

One of the men who was holding him down leaned down with a mocking tone in his voice and whispered to Daryl,

“Your little lady is a pretty one. Think we should keep her with us.”

Daryl’s face darkened greatly when he said that and let out a snarl. He was starting to get fed up with how smug these guys were. “Fuck YOU” he said through gritted teeth, keeping eye contact with you at all times.

The man holding the knife against your chin chuckled as he slowly began to slide it up your face and press the tip against your cheek. A soft red mark started to form as the tip broke the skin and you let out a small gasp

“If you keep talking like that, I might just have to carve her face up a bit…hmm?”

Daryl clenched his hands tightly into fists and bit his cheek to hold himself back from lashing out against the man. His teeth grinded against each other while he just glared up at the men holding him down,

“If you lay a hand on her I will kill you I swear…”

The men all laughed at that threat and the one holding the knife against you leaned down closer to your ear and spoke in a sinister tone

“I’m gonna like keeping you with me…”

His hand slowly wrapped around your neck and softly squeezed.

Daryl’s rage began to reach its boiling point at the sight of his hand around your neck. He began to struggle against the men and was slowly gaining momentum. His strength overpowered the men holding him down and his hands reached up and grabbed one of their throats.

In the struggle the man who had the knife against your neck ended up dropping it and letting go of you to help the men holding Daryl down. They all managed to finally overpower Daryl again and forced his head down into the dirt. The man holding the knife got back up and glared down at Daryl, his anger showing,

“That was a big mistake redneck…”

The click of the safety going off on the gun could be barely heard as you were quickly able to grab a gun from the guys holding Daryl down and with no hesitation, shot all 4 of them in the head before they could even realise what was going on.

When you stood up and fired the gun Daryl just stared at you in shock as the men’s bodies dropped dead to the ground. His breathing slowed down and he could finally breathe normally again. Before you could completely process what you just did, he leaped up and wrapped you in a tight embrace, his face leaning against the top of your head.

you let out a loud cry, the adrenaline seemed to wear off slightly and realised what you've done "Daryl..." you continued to cry into his shoulder,

He held you tightly against him in a protective embrace, letting you cry on him. He whispered soft reassuring words into your ear as his hand ran softly through your hair.

“T’s okay, you’re okay…they’re all gone now…just you and me…”

When your crying began to die down Daryl gently pulled you back just enough so that he could see your face. His hands gently cupped your face and wiped away the tears from your cheeks, trying his best to soothe you.

“Shh…it’s alright darlin’…just breathe…”

You could feel his hands tense up a bit when he finally noticed the deep gash across your cheek, and you flinched slightly when he gently brushed his thumb against it. The anger was beginning to bubble up again in his chest as he gently wiped away the blood dripping down.

He took a deep breath trying to will himself to stay calm. He gently pushed your hair behind your ears and began gently kissing along the cut to soothe it while whispering quietly to you

“It’s gonna be alright…we’re gonna go back to alexandria and clean this wound up…”

#fanfic #daryl dixon #imagine #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #requests open

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y-the-youthful · 1 year

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Is this the same A that loomed over you at 2am to complain an unfinished coffee ghost? Because I can see that refusing to let an incinerator work out of sheer anger

A was full of moments of spite and, at times, was mildly terrifying for it. He and B are absurdly similar in that sense, they just had different masks. It was the reason they were equal levels enemies and other things. I have never seen a rivalry match it since, and yet there were rare moments (and they were indeed rare) when it was not a contest.

But yes the same hallucination. It derived, likely, from the time he saw me microwave a cup of tea when I forgot it, and he refused to trust me near a microwave with any hot drink again. I must have deeply offended his French sensibilities.

As for the broken incinerator... well, I doubt he would want any trace of his presence to have been forgotten by anyone. To do so was the ultimate spit in the face. He sticks to this place like the roots of our hair even long since dead. That is how he would want to go on.

Anyone who thought him meek was a fool

#answered #yoriko speaks #I look at A and I go 'yes you would make the whole funeral process inconvenient and unforgettable because how dare they'#Fucking around with the microphone and the playlist and all #get the ropes to break in the coffin laying so someone falls in with it #a landslide just takes the coffin and many others out the ground and it's knocked open and homie still looks fresh #and C is running to the house to say 'bitch ain't dead' and they go to bury him again and THE BODY IS GONE #That is how A would want it to go

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frodolives · 7 months

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1850s Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

👸🏻 girlbossladyjane Follow

It really makes me sick to see people giving money to penny weeklies when Franklin's expedition STILL has not been found 😭 There are good men out there trapped in unimaginable temperatures and literally all that's needed is a little more funding for another rescue mission yet all you guys seem to care about are your vulgar little stories...

🧔🏻‍♂️ queerqueg Follow

the franklin expedition is dead as hell

👸🏻 girlbossladyjane Follow

Disgraceful thing to say but I'd expect nothing more from a M*lville fan

10,558 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 hartgrindisreal

Sorry for posting so much about Tom Gradgrind/James Harthouse from Hard Times lately. It turns out that I was getting arsenic poisoning from my wallpaper? Anyway I took a seaside stroll and I'm normal now. Check your walls y'all

#whyyy did i assume they were committing unlawful actions together like where did i even get that from lol #hard times isn't even that good by dickens standards tbh

659 notes

🎨 asherbrowndurand

Just painted this

2 notes

ss-arctic-girlie-deactivated18540927

RIP Napoleon... you may have been unable to conquer Alexander's Russia but you sure as hell conquered Alexander's bed

🖼️ preraphaelitebro Follow

HERITAGE POST

📝 shakespearesforehead Follow

How does this have less than 100k notes you could literally not avoid this post back in the 20s lol

82,170 notes

🌄 loyalromantic Follow

poets just aren't dying young in mysterious water-related incidents like they used to :/

#as useless and degenerative as i find 'the living poets' and i'm glad we're finally moving on from them #i have to agree with op in this respect

6,884 notes

🎀 thefopdiaries Follow

I finally got a daguerreotype of myself ^_^ Porcelain urn for scaling

📜 bartlebi-thescrivener

i think i hauve consumption

112 notes

🐋 whaler4life

They found oil in the ground??? WTF. THIS IS LITERALLY THE WORSTTTT. FUCK MY LIFE FOR REAL THIS TIME

11 notes

🌿 naturesnaturalist Follow

I swear this website has 0 reading comprehension skills. Darwin NEVER claimed we "evolved" from apes like if one of you guys actually bothered to open his new book you'll see all his arguments are backed up by evidence. He actually makes a lot of sense

#sure there's nuance like i don't fully agree with all of it #but his general theory of natural selection seems pretty sound imo

56 notes

🤵🏻‍♂️ byronicherotournament Follow

🙈 butchbronte Follow

Of course these are the finalists lmao this website is so predictable. Anyway vote Heathcliff if you dont i'm going to assume you're a phrenologist

📖 sapphichelenburns Follow

It's not problematic to acknowledge the fact that Heathcliff was a brute like he literally killed dogs in case you forgot. #rochestersweep

🙈 butchbronte Follow

I love the implication here that Rochester never did anything cruel either. He literally locked his wife in the attic and lied to Jane about it 😭 like that was a pretty significant thing that happened

📖 sapphichelenburns Follow

And? God forbid women do anything

#why'd you have to pit two bad bitches against each other #anyway i'm not attracted to men but still went with rochester #bc in terms of living quarters thornfield hall > wuthering heights easily

8,027 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 hartgrindisreal

Not the Russian tsar dying immediately after hartgrind became canon

#i know dickens hasn't technically confirmed it yet but like. SOMETHING was strongly implied ok #see: my previous post #dickensposting

522 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 hartgrindisreal

LORD HELP ME. THE BODY LANGUAGE. THE WAY THEY'RE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER. AHHHHHH

#this installment!!! im-- #dickensposting #i can't fucking cope #dickens wants to KILL us he wants us DEAD....

2,309 notes

⭐️ newamerican

Hi guys sorry I haven't been posting lately it's been so difficult getting to California 💀 I'm finally here now though just need to find a pickaxe and soon I'll be digging! :-) wish me luck lol

#gold #gold rush #gold rush grind #california #adventure

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multi-fandom-imagine · 4 months

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Valentines day blurbs?

How about Y/N giving Lucifer a homemade duck plush holding a heart for valentines day? He'd probably love it!!

FUCK YOU LILITH, YOU TWO-TIMING BITCH!!!

A/n: I'm dead 😂, also adorable prompt.

Wetting your lips, you smiled to yourself fixing up the duck plush that you had sewn for Lucifer. It was your first Valentine's Day together and you wanted it to be special. Attaching the little heart, you hummed with satisfaction.

"Perfect."

Grabbing the plush duck, you made your way to where Lucifer was waiting for you. Your jaw dropping once you entered the room. It was all decked out, various ballon's encompassing the room. Various flowers in vases, rose petals on the ground. Your gaze finally falling to the man holding a box of chocolates in his arms with your favorite anima in plush form.

"W-what's all this?"

Giving you a sheepish smile, Lucifer let out s nervous laugh. "You deserve this and more...thank you for choosing me."

Shaking your head, you did your best to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Lucifer." He was to sweet, your heart was racing as you then shoved the duck in his face. "I MADE THIS FOR YOU."

Eye's going wide, Lucifer placed the gifts for you down onto a small table as he carefully took the plush duck from you. "You made this?" His lips quivered for a moment and before you had the chance to respond Lucifer pulled you into his arms, the duck squished between you to as he kissed you deeply.

Breaking the kiss, he then nuzzled his head against your own. A light giggle escaping your lips as he clung to you. "You're so wonderful, happy Valentine's day beautiful."

Placing your hand on Lucifer's cheek, it was cute seeing his smile face. "Happy Valentine's Day Lucifer."

#drabbles #drabble #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #valentines day

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tender-rosiey · 10 months

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frenzy— gojo satoru x gn!reader

a/n: yet another silly thing with megumi and gojo to fill space while I finish other stuff

you take a deep breath before staring in front of you.

you’re going to murder someone, particularly a 6 foot 5 man with hair similar to that of a paintbrush.

the only problem is that he is your fiancé and you would probably be the first suspect when they investigate the oh so mysterious murder—if the daggers you’re glaring are anything to go by.

the second suspect is probably the 11 year old next to you, also known as megumi.

satoru is causing yet another scene as he purchases his favorite sweets from the cute old lady at your local shop.

his face is stuck to the glass as he grins, “I will take this, this, this, oo and that! and lastly that!”

“can’t we leave him?” the boy grumbles.

you sigh, “unfortunately not.”

“babe! honey! sweetheart! I got you some stuff!” he appears right in front of your eyes with frankly more sweets and food than you physically stomach.

he rummages around the bags, “I know this is your favorite, especially this!”

sighing, you cup his face and make him stare you dead in the eyes, “stop spending so much money! I don’t need that much!”

he pouts and his arms wrap around your waist, “what’s the point of my money if I can’t spoil you with it?” he feels the stare of megumi then looks down and scowls at him, “what do you want?”

megumi rolls his eyes and looks away, radiating so much sass and it offends your fiancé beyond words.

satoru gasps then props his hands on his lips, “I got you this limited edition pistachio cupcake! be thankful!”

megumi’s eyes snap to satoru’s and retorts, “it isn’t thanksgiving.”

satoru quirks an eyebrow and uses his hand to fan the air towards his nose. he takes a deep breath and puts his hands together, “I smell…bitch!”

“satoru!”

“sorry!”

they have a glaring contest for a small while, and you simply take some of the bags from satoru’s hand and make your way down the street.

it doesn’t take long before a pair of small feet makes its way into your peripheral and another gigantic pair follows suit.

satoru effortlessly takes the bags from you, carrying them in one arm, while his other one is linked with your own. on the other hand, megumi’s hand gently slips into your own. you give his hand a little squeeze and he gladly returns it back.

satoru has his infinity turned off because what could go wrong in a peaceful moment like this?

a screech is heard from your side. it’s girly, squeaky, and so high pitched to the point you want to smack its owner so badly.

unfortunately though, it’s your fiancé, and he is being ruthlessly attacked by a squirrel

it probably fell from the tree above, but why would it attack satoru?

probably because the idiot accidentally kicked the tree and, as a result, made the poor thing’s entire stock of food fall the ground, crumbled and unusable for poor mister squirrel.

karma is a bi—biscuit. a very bad biscuit.

“y/n, get it off!”

“you’ve been chosen as a sacrifice for the squirrel king, satoru.”

“but—“

“oh thank heavens! we will finally get rid of him,” megumi murmurs.

“why you little bra—AH!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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gutsby · 3 months

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Cabin Fever

Pairing: Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader

Summary: Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Warnings: 18+. DEAD DOVE: DNE. NONCONSENSUAL. I’m never ever beating the insane bitch allegations, I fear. Protector-turned-pervert-turned-unwilling-captor-kinda. Corruption kink. Daddy kink. Somnophilia. Misogyny. “It’s too big; it won’t fit” + Joel “I’ll make it fit” Miller. Captivity on both ends. Oral (f!receiving). Gunplay. Oversimplified first-time anal. Uno Reverse Drugging. Evil, inexperienced reader meets evil, feral, slutty Joel. Attempted murder x3. Russian Roulette…as foreplay?

Notes: Both characters SUCK. I condone nothing they do. Please do not take any of their behavior or language to reflect my own moral predilections. That is all 🚬😵‍💫

You were hardly shaking at all when he’d found you chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains.

He didn’t see that every day, that was for-fucking-sure.

Joel Miller barely got to see his share of happy, grinning girls on the cold and bitter frontier he inhabited. Ones that were tied to posts and clinging to life were even less common, so the sight of you there had almost frightened him at first. He’d approached you like one might advance upon a sleeping bear: with the utmost caution and a Winchester Model 70 levelled directly at your head.

He’d learned you were unarmed and defenseless in less than a second. He’d come to realize you were largely unconscious—and unclothed—even sooner than that.

He had been industrious in freeing your hands and feet from their restraints but never uttered a word as he did.

Even on the two-and-a-half mile trek back home, he hadn’t spoken once. You’d hung off his left shoulder like a pretty, frosted slab of meat, covered only with the sherpa blanket he’d secured around your neck, and dangled precariously down his back for the entire fifty minutes.

Your toes were two shades shy of onyx with frostbite.

Your limbs were hanging like lead over his chest.

A whisper of, ‘You’ll be fine, darlin’, I promise’ had just seemed ill-suited for the circumstances and his nature. In truth, Joel didn’t know if you’d be fine. You might die. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands one way or the other, but he never had liked burying bodies this time of year. He’d have to wait until April to break ground, at least.

Presently, he dropped your limp form to the floor of his cabin and hoped he wouldn’t be needing to bury anyone.

You sort of looked charming in the firelight.

He stomped off to the kitchen and began rifling for pans, preparing to defrost the icy stranger as best he could.

You didn’t die.

You didn’t wake for forty full hours, but you didn’t die.

When you stirred on the floor with warm sherpa around your shoulders and a rough calfskin rug under your ass, you thought you had died—maybe taken a pit stop in cowpoke purgatory while you were at it—but then you blinked. Breathed. Realized you were still very much inside your body and most likely still in Wyoming.

You sat up where you were and looked around.

“Da-a-d?”

You knew it was useless, calling for your father.

He had been dead almost eight months; you just wanted to double-check to make sure you were still on earth.

When dead dad didn’t answer, you tried someone else.

“Momma?”

Still no answer.

Figured, since she was among the ones that had left you chained outside in the first place. It’d been worth a shot.

You started to rise from your place, when a sharp pain in your side made you plop back down on the rug. You winced and lifted the blanket, then your old nightie.

A neat little taped-down bandage had your ribs encased in antiseptics and gauze. You frowned down at a stain in the centre, which looked to you an awful lot like blood. That circle of old fluids must’ve been twice the size of your fist and currently oozing tiny, fresh beads of blood from the strain you’d just exerted. You pursed your lips.

Least they could’ve done is kill me, not leave me here.

You’d take it up with your old would-be assassins another day, you were sure. Right now, you were parched, starving, in dire need of a piss, and reeling on the floor to grab hold of something sturdy to lift yourself. But you were as much a child then as you had ever been, swaying in place and clawing at air like someone who’d never kept their balance before. Or might’ve been drunk.

You rolled onto your good side and cast a sweeping look around the cabin. You smelled slow-cooked barbecue.

Thank fuck, you thought.

Now, if I were a juicy rack of ribs, where would I be?

The kitchen was dark and empty; the smell was coming from elsewhere. You craned your neck, tilted your chin, spotted a loft overhead but figured it wasn’t too likely to find someone grilling up there, so where the hell was it?

And who the hell was it, smoking meats and mending up strangers in the cold and lonely dead of winter like this?

You put a pin in that thought as you searched for a place to pee.

By the time you’d hobbled out of the bathroom, the smoky smell had grown even stronger. It was so pungent it bordered on vertiginous, invading every inch of the cabin with a force. Then it was leading you, teasing you by turns to venture outside. All you had on your feet were some oversized socks and two strips of medical tape.

Against your better judgment, you continued to hobble.

Out the door, down the steps, slowly, then following your nose and the first whiff of smoke you smelled to make it to the place you were almost certain you needed to be.

You trudged around a corner of the cabin’s exterior and stopped. Turned around. Cursed your own senses for being so stupid to miss the huge fucking shed spewing smoke out front—or was it the back?—and plodded on.

Your feet might have carried you a third of the way there before your powers of sight and sound eventually failed you again, and you missed another big something.

Big and beige and coated in snow—baring its teeth and snarling at the unfamiliar presence as soon as it saw you.

The next thing you knew, sixty-two pounds of Belgian Malinois had had you knocked to the ground in less than a second. You hardly understood what had hit you until it was barking and chomping away an inch from your face.

You fought hard and frantic to shove the ugly fucker off, but your bandaged hands were no match for its paws. The dog continued to tear at your blanket, nip at your ears, claw at your neck, and all around snuff out any sense of peace you might have acquired in the dozen-odd minutes since you’d first woken up. You screamed.

You yelled as loud as you could and felt yourself cower and sink lower into the snow as you fought.

Just when you tried to raise a knee—to kick the animal in the ribs or else protect your own—a sound broke out above the buzz.

A voice, clear as day:

“CUJO!”

The dog stalled on top of you a moment, just to be yanked off the next, and the closest thing afterward was a face—kinder than Cujo’s but not by very much.

It was a broad, bearded, pock-marked head with more soot to recommend itself than skin. Lips smeared with ash and grime and curved down in the single most decisive frown you’d seen in your life, the man looked to be beside himself seeing you tits up in the snow.

He gripped one arm of yours, then dropped it.

Picked a leg up, paused, then hauled you into a cradle carry as graceless as you’d ever felt it done before.

“Come!” he snapped, and it took you too long to realize that he was talking to the dog. You’d already wrapped your arms around his neck in abrupt complaisance.

He carried you back into the cabin and kicked the door open in front of you. He held you firm for a second, then, just as he had outside, changed course before you knew what to do and was shortly depositing you on the sofa.

You winced when your ass hit the cushion.

You started to sit, grab a pillow for your back or just bring your knees to your chest, when suddenly a palm was pressing flat on your front. Forcing you to lie down.

“Hey, hey!” you cried when the man started lifting the hem of your nightgown.

If he’d heard you at all, he didn’t show it. He just worked his thick, dirty fingers under the fabric and raised the white satin like he might the hood of a car. He frowned.

It was then that you noticed a blooming red splotch on your side, slowly overtaking the terra-cotta color of dried blood on the bandage and spreading out. Then a pain.

Instead of pushing the man’s hands away, you were holding them tight, wrestling that same touch which was trying to keep you from poking around the area now.

“Quit,” the man said, sedate as could be.

“Hurts,” was all you could think to tell him—and you guessed he’d already had that part down by the outpouring of blood. He shoved your hands off.

The brand new crimson hue had already soaked through the bandage. He pulled it off. You caught a glimpse of a wound that seemed to be weeping through its stitches—oozing pus and blood and a gore you could’ve gone your whole life without seeing. You would’ve liked to run a couple gentle, awed fingers over it, but as it was, your coarse and tight-lipped medic wouldn’t let you.

“Hold still,” he commanded.

“Heystopstopstop!” you implored him, feeling a streak of pain up your side as his calloused hands delved deeper.

At your latest flinch and plea, the man seemed to have had enough. Or just needed to angle your body in a different direction for easier access to the site. He gathered you back up in his arms and walked over to the kitchen, where he set you down again on the counter. Hands moved to your hips, briefly, to push you back on the surface and allow him to stand between your legs. Again, the man frowned as he peeled off your pyjamas.

Two warring fears of pain and overexposure fought like wild beasts in your brain for a second—you yelping and trying to cover your breasts in a hurry, then realizing how much it hurt to lift your arms that way when your ribs were dripping blood, then the man making the decision for you both as he pushed your hands behind your back and said a simple ‘Fuck’s sake’ to keep you pinned.

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it, and you let him continue, because you knew that you didn’t know shit about doing this yourself.

Joel must’ve fixed your dressings fourteen times before turning you loose. He’d had you perched atop his counter like goddamned Prisoner-of-War Barbie, all riddled with bumps, bruises, and lesions galore, looked your body up and down just once, and nearly grew sick at the sight.

He’d disgusted himself by feeling as aroused as he was.

Shortly thereafter, he’d toted you off—before the blood could rush down to his dick and start to swell—shrugged your gown over your torso, and stepped away. Simple.

Then you’d had to go and throw a wrench in his plans.

“What if I need to pee?” you’d said as soon as Joel started up the stairs with you in his arms again.

He had meant to drop you off on the bed in the loft, out of sight, but it seemed you were more concerned about the prospect of traversing the steps up and down for potty breaks. Joel had audibly huffed above you.

“I can leave a bucket.”

“Yu-uck.” The latter word had been given two syllables to show the full extent of your disgust, like a child might do.

And that was how you’d ended up here: snug in his bed on the ground floor, curled up in more layers of flannel and wool than you could count and staring blankly up at the man who was standing cold and aloof off to the side.

Your eyelids were growing heavy with sleep.

He figured they would be.

Joel picked up the glass that sat beside your empty one on the nightstand and drank, watching you all the while.

“D’you know my momma?” you asked, voice sounding extra small coming from the depths of your cocoon.

Joel finished his drink in four big gulps.

“Sure hope not,” he said once he’d set it back down.

By the sight of the scars he’d found littering your hands and back alone, Joel was able to surmise you’d come from a pretty rough, ragtag group. Maybe even Raiders. Knowing folks like that simply never struck one’s fancy, so he’d been honest. You might’ve argued, or laughed, if you hadn’t been nabbed so tightly in the grips of those first stages preceding sleep, so instead, you nodded.

“Figured,” you mumbled.

7:11, Joel read on the clock. You’d finished your drink at seven, or somewhere thereabouts. Judging by your size, it wouldn’t take long at all for the medicine to take effect.

‘Medicine,’ Joel thought, sounded a whole hell of a lot better than ‘drugs.’ One was meant to rehabilitate, rejuvenate, bring new life to your worn and weary bones. The other would just knock you cold and keep you there.

On second thought, those were definitely drugs Joel had just slipped in your water before giving it to you to drink.

As your eyes blinked from closed, to open, to closed, then open but slightly less open than the time before, and closed again, he felt a sick sense of accomplishment twist in his gut. If only his former-nurse friend could have seen what he was doing with those morphine sulfate tablets he’d traded for—he likely would’ve slapped Joel across the face. And Joel would’ve smiled all the same.

Yeah, okay, drugging the unsuspecting and defenseless female he’d just saved from death’s doorstep two days ago didn’t look great on paper, he would fully concede.

But this was all in good fun.

Great fun, even.

For him.

“Sick fuck,” Joel muttered as he started to undo his belt. The button and zip were taken apart just as fast, and with two steps, he was standing at your bedside—his bedside—and tugging his trousers down his legs. He took his cock in his hand and glanced over at the clock.

7:15.

He nudged your shoulder.

7:16.

Peeling layers of blanket away from your body.

7:17.

“Hey…honey?”

A lot more nothing from the girl sleeping in front of him. He shrugged his jeans to the floor, kicked them off at his feet, and moved onto the bed. You just looked so sweet.

Joel tried working around the fabric of his boxers but got impatient pretty quick. He hauled those off, too.

Soon, his beefy, bare, and surprisingly tan legs were bracketing your hips as he stroked himself above you. His eyes roamed the lax and tranquil features undeniably characteristic of sleep, and he pumped himself faster. Really, there was no need for theatrics or enhancements now—he was already hard as three tonnes of steel—but Joel would be lying if he said he didn’t like the build-up.

You were no longer in danger of dying, thanks to him. You were slowly but surely on the mend, no thanks to Cujo at all, but many thanks to him, Joel Miller, the man who had pried you off of that post, pulled you out of your chains, ushered warmth back into your limbs, and stitched up your side out of the goodness of his heart.

Any objective onlooker could see that you’d availed yourself of his medical attention and aid without ever asking, so why should he request access to you now? This was the way of the world these days, anyway. Sex was no longer so much a question as it was an answer in most scenarios—a mere transaction, wherein the physically weaker of two parties was forced to capitulate. Not within the four unsullied walls of Jackson and a few other pockets of homestead communities here and there, but on the whole, absolutely. Jackson was down the road a ways away and sufficiently far enough from Joel’s cabin for him to be disentangled from their rules. What mattered now was obtaining what he was owed.

Still, the man hesitated a half-second longer above you. He jerked his cock even faster and felt his stomach start to clench. Was that? No—nerves were fucking juvenile. Getting close to cumming from just the sight of you alone was for chumps. Joel Miller was no chump.

He lifted your nightie and lowered the head of his cock to rest between your folds. Then he shifted his knees so that he could rub himself gently against your warmth.

Joel Miller was a monster, but he was no brute. He also understood female anatomy well enough to know that, well…wetter was better. He started moving his hips.

You exhaled through your nose. Nothing major; you probably hadn’t even felt him long enough to whine.

Joel planted a hand beside your head—a preemptive warning.

“There…” He liked to talk as though you could hear him. Like you might be semi-conscious and dimly aware of what he was doing to you then, “Right there…ah, baby.”

He never did catch your name.

That was no matter. So long as you stayed put and made a nice, wet, pretty little hole for him to fuck, you would be fine. By the feel of your folds alone, he could tell you’d be a fun thing to use. Soft and snug and plied with drugs, you could do, and be, anything he damn well needed.

Or maybe nothing at all, he thought without humor.

Joel brushed your cheek with the knuckles of his free hand and watched you turn away, making a face. He snagged your chin and tilted it back to him, sharply, before gliding those fingers down your chest, then your tummy, then your hips, then dipping between your legs. He found your clit and pressed it with a deliberate touch.

“Hey,” Joel whispered, again, as though you might hear, “You’re gonna stay still and let me do this.”

Your nose scrunched in response, thighs clamping together. Joel pried them apart with one push and continued sliding his cock back and forth. He grunted.

“Gonna let me take what’s mine, hear?”

You didn’t hear much of anything, he suspected, but he asked the question all the same. At least now your legs were staying open and he could rut himself gently into that space without having to keep them spread. A first, gentle ‘mmph’ sounded from your lips, and he was glad. He kept thumbing that spot he knew you would like and rubbing along the seam of your cunt with his erection.

Then Joel felt a weight on his shoulders. Remorse? No. Anxiety? Perhaps. This felt more like a fog, though, seizing his muscles and seeping gently between the grooves of his brain. He gave his head a fierce shake.

“Hold still,” he said, more to himself; you hadn’t moved.

Joel fisted the base of his cock and angled the tip toward your entrance, caring much less whether you were ready or not now that his desires had grown stronger.

He was met with resistance on trying to push in. He dug his fingers in the pillow beneath your head and scowled.

“Quit…clenchin’…like that. Ain’t…fair to me,” he huffed.

He was one to talk.

Now, he’d been with a staggering number of women, experiences ranging all across the spectrum, but even the tightest, most untouched pieces of ass he’d ever tapped had given way more than this. Your walls were unyielding, refusing to give him entry. Joel cursed and rutted his hips in a rough, entirely unsuccessful, thrust.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed, one hand fumbling mindlessly for something to hold. Joel seized it.

“Not lettin’ you off that easy, darlin’, I—”

“Fuck,” you breathed, followed by a low whimper.

Joel froze. Had you heard him? Felt him just now?

Something about the uncertainty laden in those questions sent his mind into overdrive, heart beating a wild cadence in his chest. He realized then that his mouth had gone dry, his vision was skewed just slightly on the outskirts. And his cock was throbbing.

“Ya like that?” Joel seethed, not thinking, still rubbing, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

“Uh-huh.” Softly.

You little slut. He knew it all along.

Whatever it was that kept your body from being coupled with his was almost immaterial to him now. Joel’s mind was swimming with desire, cock dragging in desperate, fitful bursts between your legs, never penetrating but still wringing massive jolts of pleasure from that place.

With the way he was feeling now, Joel could cum from just fucking your thighs. And that was alright.

You were moaning underneath him. Even…smiling?

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty.”

Joel had never called a girl pretty before and meant it. But he hardly knew how else to describe you now with how good and sweet and fine you were making him feel. A strange warmth sank into his chest, making it harder to breathe, and then he was panting above you, as if he were really inside that dripping wet spot. He was close.

“Such a pretty…sweet…fuckin’ thing for me.”

That red, raging, leaky cock of his was almost a blur between your legs, he was thrusting against you so fast. Joel thought for one frightening second that it might be his skull that would explode instead, so high was that pressure between his ears, but his fears were promptly put to rest as the first rope of cum came stuttering out. Then another. Then another. Then another.

By the time he finished, he could’ve sworn he’d left a hundred spurts on your tummy. When Joel glanced down and saw a sea of opaque, sticky white, he groaned.

Then he fell. Fully collapsed at your side with his brain in a tizzy of wild, heady feelings and sank into himself.

He hadn’t even fucked you, and he felt like he had.

He lifted a hand to wipe away his spend, but he couldn’t.

He would get to it in the morning, before you stirred, he thought. He thought. He didn’t have the chance to think much longer at all, as darkness started hedging him in.

He slept.

It was 7:57 when he woke.

The man had no real way of knowing that, though, seeing as he was greeted with a nickel-plated revolver between his teeth the second he opened his eyes.

You were straddling his torso, gun pinched between two calm, bandaged hands. You frowned when he jumped.

“WH—” he started.

“Shut up.”

“ST—”

“I said shut,” you cocked the gun, holding it tighter, then shoving it even further inside his mouth, “the fuck. up.”

The man obeyed.

‘Joel M.’—you’d read the name etched on the butt of his pistol before picking it up some twenty minutes ago.

“Pretty fuckin’ thing,” you mocked the man’s Texan drawl as you wiggled the barrel even deeper along his tongue, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

The man’s eyes widened.

How dumb did he think you were?

Offering a semi-clear liquid that should’ve been water; he hadn’t even waited for the morphine tablet to fully dissolve before handing it over to you. Fucking idiot.

You were more disturbed by the fact he’d thought you stupid enough not to notice than him actually trying to drug you. The latter was almost to be expected from predatory, execrable men like him, but the insult to your intelligence? Unacceptable. You’d remedied that affront fairly quickly, though, swapping his glass with yours the second he hadn’t been looking, then nestling into his bed and playing pretend for what had felt like an eternity.

You’d been awake the whole time the man touched you, not knowing what the hell was going on but feeling like you had to stay still. Let him finish. Out of fear, at first, then curiosity, then some strange and unfamiliar sensation that you couldn’t quite describe as anything but a pleasurable itch between your legs. You let the man continue, hearing him grunt and groan and swear up a storm before he shot something hot all over your tummy. By the end of it all, you knew it was wrong, and you knew it was dirty—though you weren’t sure exactly what it was that he had done—but you wanted to learn more.

Which was probably why you hadn’t just shot the old pervert right between his eyes the second he’d stirred.

You shifted atop this ‘Joel M.’ and frowned once more.

“Why’d you stop?”

Gun still wedged in his mouth, Joel’s voice sounded garbled as he spoke, “Wha-agh-at?”

You retracted the metal just long enough to pose the question again. When you had, he still looked stunned.

“Answer me,” you barked, and feeling your patience lapse, got straight to pistol-whipping the motherfucker upside his half-grey head, “You DUMB, or somethin’?”

The man sputtered again.

“No, no— I don’t— dunno what you mean.”

He sounded dumb. You would need to spell this out.

“Why did you stop rubbing me like that?”

If anything, the clarification only seemed to baffle him further. He opened his taut, bearded mouth, then closed it, then eyed you up and down with a look that said he was considering something. Then he stared at one spot.

You glanced down at it too.

“And what is this, anyway?” you asked, swiping one finger at the mostly dried moisture on your stomach, “Why’d you spit this stuff up all over me, huh?!”

“I ain’t—”

You raised the gun as if to hit him again. He jolted back.

“I didn’t mean— shit. Shit, I just…came on you, ‘s’all.”

“Came?”

The word hung in the air like a grenade, waiting. Mr. M was already bracing himself for the impact, it seemed.

“Came?!”

That bracing served him well, because in the next second you were lifting the weapon even higher and eyeing him with the most pointed, putrid look of disdain. You’d never been one for letting grenades go untouched.

“Ejaculated!” Joel hissed, lifting a hand to shield himself, “Felt— felt so good I just couldn’t stop and I-I-I came.”

You paused.

Came. Felt good. Couldn’t stop.

You had felt good when he’d rubbed you. You had not wanted him to stop. But then he had. And you were mad. You’d never been touched that way in your life, and now you were feeling fifteen hundred emotions at once.

Were you supposed to ‘come,’ too? Why did he stop?

“Why didn’t you let me…ejaculate, too?” The words felt foreign and strange on your tongue.

For the first time, you saw one side of Joel’s lips twitch. Evidently fighting the urge to turn them into a smile.

“Girls don’t really…do that,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Why? Ain’t ever had your pussy rubbed on by a man?”

You shortly landed the blow you’d been holding over his head, splitting the skin along his brow with one hit from the butt of his gun. Joel jumped again, then moaned.

“Crazy bitch!”

“Creepy fuck.”

Your eyes narrowed with loathing, unable to comprehend how a man so vile had just made you feel so good. Your stomach was twisting in knots while Joel rubbed his forehead, pawing helplessly at the gash you’d just left.

“I saved your life,” he grumbled, low, “You owed me.”

“Did I?”

Abruptly, and without really thinking, you were sinking the muzzle of the gun into the spot you’d just cut, mouth kicking up in a smile at the sounds of pain it elicited.

“Did I, Joel?” you cooed.

“How the— the fuck do you know my name?”

Momentarily, you yanked the revolver from his face and tilted it to show him his name carved into the bottom.

“What’s the ‘M’ stand for? ‘Molester’?”

“Means ‘mind’ your fucking business,” he spat.

You probably would’ve hit him again had it not seemed as though he were trying to sit up just then. You slid swiftly from his frame—just to take a step off the bed, gun still pointed at his head. Then you backed away.

One by one, rapidly, you unloaded the bullets from the cylinder, maintaining a safe distance from the man all the while. You watched him blink and try to get some thing from his eyes, but he didn’t seem keen to move.

You left just one live round inside. You made a point to spin the cylinder and, again, aim it straight at his head.

The man was blinking even harder. Rubbing now, too.

“I feel…” Joel murmured.

“Drugged?” you returned, “Yeah, that must suck.”

A set of wide, irate, and horrified eyes met yours. His mouth hung open in a stupid look of shock. Trying to piece the last bits of this fucked up jigsaw puzzle together and growing angrier by the second.

“You fuckin’—”

Joel’s words were cut short by the weight of your body barreling back over his. Graceless, you imagined, but still nothing close to something you cared about now. You planted your knees on either side of his ribs and grazed the tip of the six-shooter down the length of his nose.

“Tell me,” you said, “How’d you make it feel so good?”

Your hips twisted for effect, jostling the man’s own parts beneath yours and clearly causing some effect in him. The muscles in his jaw jumped up as he gritted his teeth.

“You know damn well, slut,” Joel griped.

Without another thought, you squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The man’s whole body lurched underneath you. Trembling with the realization that you’d left just one lone bullet for him—and he didn’t know which chamber.

As far as foreplay went, Russian Roulette was probably a first, even for a man as wanton and depraved as Joel. You smiled sweetly and made another gyration with your lower half, which prompted him to grip you. Tight.

“What? Ya want me to fuck you, is that it?” he growled.

“I thought it wouldn’t fit.”

“I’ll make it fit.”

“How?”

Try as you might to conceal it, your gaze likely betrayed a hint of sincerity as you made that last inquiry. Joel’s eyes flickered between yours, searching for something there, and just when those glossy brown irises had found it, they stopped. Blinked. He shook his head, incredulous.

“My mind ain’t…right,” he said, slowly, “But I— I know you know what I mean by that, sweet pea.”

Something in your tummy fluttered at the sound. You gripped the pistol tighter to get rid of the feeling.

“I don’t,” you answered.

Again, Joel was stumped. For the first time, though, there appeared to be some sympathy behind his eyes. Or stupidity. Or just a shit ton of morphine coursing through his veins as he tried to make sense of this situation.

As if to confirm an idea in his drug-addled brain, he lowered a hand between your legs and hovered there a second. He watched you; you watched back but didn’t move.

Then slowly, almost clinically, Joel slipped two fingers underneath you and found a soft, pulsing warmth—far wetter than the last time he’d touched down there. When he pulled his hand away, both fingers and half of his palm were glistening with a fluid. You let out a startled cry at the sight of it and nearly dropped your gun.

“What is that?!”

Joel looked to you, equally awed—for different reasons.

“What do you mean?”

“Why’s it all…sticky?”

You couldn’t even try to hide your horror at the thought of that weird, syrupy stuff leaking out of you. It was strange enough feeling it come out of a freak like Joel, but from your own body? He had to be fucking joking.

“It’s normal.”

“Like hell it is— you— STOP!” The last fragment of your sentence was swallowed by a scream, leaping back when Joel moved his fingers toward your face.

“What? You’ve never seen this?” He sounded like he was teasing. You could shoot him for how smug he sounded.

In very small amounts, you’d seen stuff. Blood every month. Bits and pieces of bodily secretions that, to you, had always seemed gross. But never this. Never big, sticky globs of…whatever the fuck this was. You continued to back away on the bed, gun still tipped toward Joel but now trying to put some distance between your bodies. You didn’t know how else to act.

You did know you wanted to scream when Joel stuck his fingers in his mouth. Bile might’ve jumped in your throat.

He sucked the dew clean off the digits, then wriggled them to show what he’d done. You felt the urge to vomit.

“That came from— from— why are you eating it?!”

Joel grinned. Big.

You weren’t sure why, but he looked psyched to be alive in that moment, and not just because of the narcotics.

Before you knew what was happening, he’d pushed you flat on your back, hips pinned underneath his hands as he moved over your body. He didn’t even try for the gun.

“And here I was thinkin’ you were just fuckin’ with me,” he chuckled, palms sliding under your nightdress. When you felt the residuum of wetness from his spit and your slick stuck together on his fingers, you wanted to squeal.

But you didn’t. You tried propping yourself up on elbows until Joel was sliding your one and only article of clothing over your head, then beckoning you down on the bed in front of him. You watched his gaze flit down to your side.

“Still hurt?” he murmured, tracing over the bandage.

You shook your head no, though it did, a little. At the moment, it seemed the pain was the furthest thing from your mind as you saw Joel slide down your body and try to take up residence between your thighs—with his face planted right there. You kicked his shoulder in protest.

“Quit!” you cried, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“You quit,” Joel returned, yanking them back.

Then you felt you had no choice but to brandish the gun, taking the thing between two palms while you pointed it again—as if he needed the reminder.

“Fine. Why don’t you keep that thing aimed at my head while I give you some?” he muttered. The subsequent ‘See if I give a shit’ was silent.

“Give me some what?”

“Head.”

Head. You’d never heard something phrased that way. Joel’s head was down there, sure, practically grinning from ear to ear as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, but certainly he didn’t mean to do a thing as drastic and dirty as—

“JOEL!”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled by your thighs.

You tried to shy away, but he held you down.

“Joel, I— I pee out of there,” you hissed, “Why the fuck would you wanna put your mouth on that?”

As if your groans of disgust and vehement attempts to get away weren’t enough to deter him, you watched Joel’s tongue dart between his lips and down to yours. The sick fuck was actually licking your folds, tracing the tip across that warm, sticky place and moaning into your skin. Holding you tighter when you pleaded for him to stop. Then, with the hand that wasn’t prying your legs apart, he reached down and started stroking his cock.

Again, it felt dirty and wrong. Beyond the fact that this man was a perfect stranger and easily decades your senior, you were repulsed by the sight of his lips and his tongue and his spit mixing up in that messy, wet place you still didn’t quite understand yourself. You didn’t know much about your body, but it had never once occurred to you to be kissed down there. Joel was roaming every contour and crevice with his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he liked it.

“I hate it,” you whined, feebly.

You knew you could’ve easily blown the man’s brains out, but some small part of you was still plagued by curiosity. ‘Hate’ was just the first word that came to mind when you were faced with something that made you scared.

“It’s weird,” you tried again. This time pressing the gun to the top of his bobbing head while you grit your teeth, “And wrong.”

At that, Joel stopped.

His eyes flickered to yours, all glass-like and hooded.

“Why? Practically lickin’ ya clean here,” he said, starting to grin to himself as his words came slightly slurred, “There’s nothin’ wrong about this, sweet pea.”

You felt something flutter between you. He felt it, too.

“Like when I call ya that? ‘Sweet pea’?” he said, pausing to flick his tongue over the spot that had just stirred at his words. He watched you fight back a whimper.

“No,” you choked. You pinched your eyes shut, unsure whether it was pleasure or pure revulsion overtaking you—or both.

Suddenly, you felt Joel’s hand smooth over your thigh, still warm from when he’d been stroking himself below. He placed an affectionate kiss to your belly and grinned.

“Is that what this is? Feel guilty about feelin’ this good?” he murmured, “Think it’s…dirty, what we’re doin’?”

At length, and just barely visible to him, you nodded.

“It is dirty,” you corrected him quietly.

Then you saw that stupid pseudo-sympathetic smirk tug at the corners of his lips, and just when you thought he might nudge his way back up your body—to do what, you weren’t sure—he sank between your legs. This time, he made sure to hold your gaze as he re-assumed the position. His palm continued to rub at your thigh, as if to distract you from the rough brush of his stubble or the fact that his mouth was hovering so dangerously close.

“Sweet pea,” he rasped, “Ain’t nothin’ dirty about this.”

As if to punctuate his words, Joel dragged his lips down your slit to press a kiss to your centre, eyes never leaving yours.

“Not here…”

He pointed with his tongue, moving it deftly between your folds. You gripped the sheets, trying to ignore the pleasure that the simple act wrought through your body.

“Not here.”

He kissed your clit. You squeezed even tighter.

“Not on my tongue, on my fingers, anywhere, y’hear?”

You were about to answer—maybe tell him he was supremely full of shit, then flash the gun in his face—when Joel shifted onto his knees on the bed. He moved slowly and as calm as he ever had, motions languid while his mind was likely steeped in the morphine by now. He snagged one of your ankles. He slid his hand up the back of your calf and tugged you down to the edge of the bed. Then he stood up, right between your legs. The warmth radiating from his bare lower half was immediate, almost suffocating from where you lay. You didn’t like it at all.

You refused to meet his gaze, grip tightening on the gun.

“Joel…”

When that warmth at your front shifted inward, though, you hardly had a say in what your reflexes did or didn’t do. You jumped when you felt the head of his dick slip past your pulsing core, closer to the other hole below it.

“Not here, either,” Joel continued, grin still evident from his tone.

Before you could even think to ask what he meant to do ‘here,’ Joel moved one of your legs up, tilting your hips, and pushed ahead with just the tip of his cock. Not breaching it fully, but nudging—prodding at that hole.

For the first time, you let out a moan.

You hastily clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle it.

“Aw, honey,” Joel murmured, “Did that feel good?”

His words reeked of condescension. You scowled at the ceiling.

“No.”

You felt him push a little further—this time making the head of his dick notch into that tight ring of muscles.

No, the word rang through your skull once more. Your curiosity was shortly supplanted by disgust—how the fuck could you let this creepy old man, this stranger, press into you like that? Talk to you like you were dumb? You seized hold of Joel’s pistol with both hands and aimed directly for his chest.

“Stop doing that,” you growled. When the man’s grip on your leg only tightened and you couldn’t writhe away, you lifted the other and tried kicking him in the gut. Of course, Joel caught your foot midair, and it never landed.

“Just givin’ ya options, darlin’,” he said, easy-going. Not seeming to care about the firearm pointed his way.

Fuck it.

You squeezed the trigger again.

Empty chamber.

If Joel flinched, you didn’t see it. He did, however, knock the gun right out of your hand the next second, sending it tumbling with an unceremonious thump on the bed behind you. You tried to leap back for it, but your arm was quickly pinned. Joel cocked one silver-flecked brow.

“You done?” he asked, almost bored.

Your last—and only—leverage taken away from you, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger. And desperation.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you cried, trying to squirm away.

Joel didn’t move his cock, but he did hold you still. Blinking with indifference and a fair bit of drug-induced dissociation, it seemed, from the far-away look in his eyes. He pushed both of your legs so they were folded up to your chest, and ignored your whimpers when he did. At length, he pulled out just enough to smear some of your wetness down to the hole he was trying to fuck.

“You want this,” he countered gently.

“I DON’T!”

Joel continued as though he hadn’t heard you, and moments later, you sensed another slick something pooling against you. From your position beneath him, you could see a bead of spit slip from Joel’s mouth and stretch into a thin, glistening string all the way down to the space between your thighs. You watched him rub the saliva in with his fingers, almost meticulous as he did it.

Then he eased his hips forward an inch, wedging himself back in your ass. He groaned when he felt resistance—and a sharp clench of your muscles.

“I can teach ya…show ya everything…there is to know.”

His words somehow made it out through ragged breaths. That broad, tan chest was heaving with every labored pull of his lungs, and you could tell he was feeling good.

You might’ve been able to say the same for yourself, were your mind not singly occupied by the desire to escape. Still at war with yourself, wondering how it would feel or what you might see that first time, all the while despising the man who seemed hell-bent on forcing it.

He might’ve saved your life, but there was no fucking way he’d get to use you like that and stay breathing.

You were raised better than that.

You could do better than anything this man had to offer.

You resolved to kill him as soon as the drugs knocked him out—just like you’d had planned from the second you woke up on the floor of his cabin that afternoon.

Of course being chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains for some well-meaning stranger to find you had always been part of your mother’s—and the rest of the Raiders’—grand plan. Having this stupid, horny sap take you into his home with the hope of claiming you as his own was just the icing on top.

Now you had a reason to kill Joel and steal all his shit.

At present, he fed another inch of himself inside you and grinned when you let out a startled cry.

“Atta girl,” he said, smirking, “Feelin’ okay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Will do.”

Then, as if to prove a point, he bottomed out, sheathing his cock to the hilt in spite of your cries. Your hands fisted the sheets, and you tried to pull off. It didn’t work.

In fact, all it accomplished was giving Joel more room to thrust back into you. And pull out. And shove back in. The snap of his hips was like cruel and excruciating clockwork, completely unhindered by your words or your gestures or your pleas to stop fucking doing that Joel, it fucking hurts! If anything, the sounds of your censure only got him harder, and with it, made it that much easier to fuck you rougher. His eyes shone with pride.

“What’s’at, sweet pea?” he hummed, strokes coming into a steady pace.

“It’s too…big…doesn’t fit,” you whimpered.

In response, Joel glanced down to see the spot where your bodies were joined. He pushed even deeper.

“Yeah?” he said when you yelped, “I think it fits just fine.”

Motherfucker, you wanted to wail, but then your neck craned sideways—your mouth trying to find purchase in anything you might grit between your teeth—and the only thing that escaped your throat was a sob. You tried burying your face in the comforter, only for Joel to yank it back.

Cupping your chin and pinching both your cheeks in a single, punishing squeeze as he continued to fuck you, “What’s the matter, darlin’? Too much?”

You groaned and clenched your jaw, head jerking away.

Per usual, Joel was undeterred. Even smiled.

“My pretty girl need somethin’a bite, huh?” he hummed.

He probably knew you wouldn’t nod, so he went ahead and decided to oblige that one need he saw anyway. Snagging your nightie, Joel raised a hand to your face and proceeded to push the fabric inside your mouth.

Just as he started to lift his hips to deliver another thrust, he had to stop. A sudden, sharp ‘FUCK!’ left his mouth, then a groan, and his hand retreated fast.

You’d bitten him.

You were grinning just a little, and you’d bitten him.

Joel promptly slapped you across the face. If you weren’t so fucking amused by the sight of his bright red fingers, you just might’ve winced. Instead, the smile stayed on your lips, the slap barely registered, and, to your utmost disbelief, something else had just then started to form.

Pleasure, in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuckin’—” Joel snarled.

“Shit,” you finished, eyes rolling back.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was rutting into you relentlessly. That brief hand bite detour had only stoked the flames of his hatred—and arousal—and now he was practically splitting you in half with the force of his thrusts. He slapped you once more for good measure.

“Oh, that you fuckin’ like?” he seethed, cheeks flushed, “Can’t get off with my…tongue on your cunt, but a slap— and my cock buried deep in your ass gets the job done?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered softly. Mindlessly.

Really, there were no two people more fucked up than you in this moment, you thought. Joel growing harder with each desperate objection of yours, you going all soft and hot and bothered the second he slapped your face and fucked you rougher, and together, the two of you letting out grunts and moans of pleasure while the bed shook like an earthquake just shy of a 9.5 on the Richter scale. Were you not already planning to slit the man’s throat after all of this was over, you just might’ve wanted to marry this Joel M for how wonderfully he fucked you.

You let him know as much when you seized his forearms.

Bouncing into his thrusts, you bit your lip and finally met his gaze. Joel’s eyes were trained in somewhat of a daze, pupils all but swallowing his irises as he fucked you.

“Like being daddy’s little cocksleeve, huh?”

Only the sentence was slurred so bad you could scarcely make out half the words. You nodded just the same.

“Like it when he fucks you in the ass?” Joel panted.

You nodded again.

That pleasure in your belly had worked its way up to a full swell—and whatever it was, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it now. You gripped Joel’s arms even harder as his chest swayed into you, then sank further and further until your fronts were pressed flush to each other and your ankles were hooked tight around his back.

It almost felt intimate. That coarse, weathered, sweat-coated face spattered with patches of grey seemed to you nearly handsome as his lips hung limply in an ‘o.’

Joel’s cock dragged back and forth between your walls at this new, snug angle, and moans fell out of you both.

“Baby.” His voice was hoarse. Strained.

You couldn’t quite make sense of the expression above you, but there was an unmistakable, muted desperation lurking somewhere beneath it. Joel rutted into you quicker, balls leaving rapid smacks against your ass with every thrust. His hair was disheveled, and his hands were making fists in the sheets on either side of your head.

“Joel—”

“Jus’ lemme use you.”

Words so low they were barely audible as he panted.

“But—”

“Daddy’s…almost done, sweet pea. Just take it.”

You were surprised he’d had it within himself to be so soft. A peculiar sort of haze hung over his face, the pace of his hips picked up even more, and suddenly those plush pink lips were hovering a mere hair’s breadth away from yours. Mumbling. Rambling on and on about how wet you were, how perfect you fit him, how nice and sweet and tight your body felt as he fucked you stupid.

That sensation in your own stomach grew even stronger.

Unsure of what to do, you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Joel, I…I feel funny,” you whispered.

Joel hummed. Didn’t slow.

“I know.”

He knew?

“What’s it—ah, fuck.” Your words broke off in a whimper.

Instead of proffering a verbal response, Joel just slipped a touch between your bodies—thumbing sloppily between your folds to earn a couple more high-pitched moans. Your legs tightened around his middle.

“Joel, s-stop!”

It felt so good it almost hurt. He didn’t stop.

“S’just an orgasm, baby,” Joel panted, “You’re okay.”

And, in spite of his own impending climax and the effect of the drugs likely reaching a fever pitch inside him, Joel managed to slide his other hand beneath the back of your head. Cradled you to him while he fucked you into the bed and made you come unraveled with his touch. You tried to writhe away, but he was used to the drill by now—he just fucked you harder and rubbed you faster.

Whatever he wanted would come soon. You doubted there was anything you could do to stop it, but you tried.

Without thinking, you grabbed hold of the damp locks of hair at the nape of his neck and yanked on them hard.

“Joel, I can’t— I can’t,” you keened.

The hand at the back of your head held you firm.

“You can,” Joel returned, tough but surprisingly calm, “Give it to daddy, ‘s’all ya gotta do.”

What exactly ‘it’ was was still unclear. You just knew you felt good and warm and full—about ready to burst. When you felt tempted to give his hair another tug, Joel’s eyes met yours, and they were soft. Insistent, still, but soft.

Dilated as all hell and probably swimming in clouds of a delirious, bleary haze, but always soft. Almost tender.

“Be a good girl and give it to daddy,” Joel slurred, slow, “C’mon, sweet pea…cum for daddy, please.”

For the first time in that short, rough, utterly deranged time you had known this man, he was begging you. Pleading with you, now, as his body grew overwrought with pleasure and just needed release. You needed it, too, not even knowing how you would get it, but the force of his thrusts, the warmth of his body, the look in those warm, bare, powerless eyes—you fucking loved whatever it was that could make a man like that so weak.

You had to strike while the iron was hot. You slid back.

Joel didn’t notice, too focused on your face and the feel of your body to see when you’d reached for the gun.

Just as you took hold of it, a jolt of pleasure tore through you. Your heels dug into his back, and you nearly lost control of the pistol. Joel groaned in your mouth, begged you once again to cum all over this cock, make a fuckin’ mess of it, baby, please, and you could only whine, grip the metal tighter, and raise it slowly to the side of his head while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The peak of your pleasure had come into view. You felt it.

You nudged the muzzle through those soft, slick, salt-and-pepper shaded tufts of hair near the edge of his temple right when the first throes of euphoria seized you.

“FUCK!”

You squeezed the trigger.

#NEED DARK!JOEL TO TAKE ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE AND FREAK ME IN WAYS UNIVERSALLY CONDEMNED BY POSTMODERN FEMINISM #IT'S SOOOOO BAD Y'ALL #this might be too niche but i hope at least one person enjoys LOL #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dark!joel

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mournings-stars · 3 months

Note

could i have anything with a married vox x reader pleasee? i'm so obsessed with this television it isn't even funny 😭

okay im FINALLY publishing this — in my defense i wrote like five vox x wife!readers after getting this and couldn't decide which to publish to this ask but now yall are getting over protective husband vox cus i love him and now i wanna make an actual fic also i originally read this request as wife!reader so i made reader fem but I'm just now realizing it's married i hope that's okay!!

warning: vox is a little crazy and reader does not care

No one knew Vox was married — and it wasn’t because he wanted to hide you, or he felt ashamed. He could never feel ashamed; you were basically his pride and joy — It was because he couldn’t stand anyone trying anything with you. Especially because of how much he doted on you. Someone could easily see how much he cared and use it against him — they could hurt you, manipulate you, maybe even force you into a soul-binding deal. He couldn’t risk anything happening to you.

That was why you lived very separate lives… Well, not entirely separate. He couldn’t stand letting you work for someone else (they could take advantage of you, or try to flirt with you), and he couldn’t handle being too far away from him during the day, so you worked at VoxTek. You had a job where you never interacted with your husband, and it left your days feeling exceptionally lonely. Especially because he claimed that he “didn’t want to overwork you,” which meant he stayed at the office much later than you did and you were left at home. Alone for most of the night, usually falling asleep before he got there, and waking without him because he went in earlier than you.

You also had weekends off while he worked a good portion of the day, which let you “go out on the town” of course, but it also left you, again, very lonely. He did email you throughout the day, but that was because no one could see those emails. It was “an outdated form of communication” as he called it, which meant no one looked through them.

Of course, when you did get to see him, you were ecstatic. He went on and on about how much he missed you all week, subtly asking if anyone had bothered you at all. If they did, they very coincidentally disappeared, so you often told him “no” for the sake of your coworkers’ souls.

And of course, after some time, people did start to bother you. They would get promoted, and get the chance to work with your husband directly, while you stayed exactly where you were and didn’t even get a call from him. That led them to teasing, which turned into snide comments and remarks, which became little “accidents” like spilling hot coffee on you or ruining and deleting your work.

One day, after someone dumped piping hot coffee all over you, and a very expensive blouse your husband bought, you had enough and backhanded her.

You were an overlord’s wife, and he gave you everything. Even and especially power. That meant the employee was flung across the room while screens burst and crackled around her, and you were dragged up to Vox’s office.

“What is it now?” Vox asked when your supervisor knocked on his door, ignoring your wincing as you tried to get the scalding hot coffee-stained blouse as far from your skin as possible.

“Another low-class bitch ruining our image,” was the response that made you laugh, knowing this person would be dead as soon as they opened the door.

“Ah…” He sighed, but you knew he was smiling. “Come in.” He was probably going through his weaponry, pulling out just the thing to get rid of the “low-class bitch,” but as soon as the door was opened, you were shoved in front of him, and his weapon went off, you weren’t the one to fall limply to the ground.

The two employees who opened the door quickly dragged the supervisor away and left you alone in the room.

As soon as they were gone, he discarded his weapon and went to you. “What happened to you?” He wiped under your big eyes as he cupped your cheeks, which were dry, but he could tell you were upset and he was doing his best not to go out and get rid of everyone in your department.

“I hit someone,” you said, and he found it adorable. There wasn’t much you could do wrong in his eyes.

Clearly.

“What’d they do to make that happen? I’ll kill them,” was his quick response before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it.” His eyes drifted down to your blouse, his screen blinking and hands twitching on your face before they went to your blouse and began unbuttoning. He didn't say anything else, electricity zapping between his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons until he cursed and ripped the blouse open. The buttons clattered to the floor as he muttered, “I’ll get — get — get you a new one,” screen buffering and electricity zapping over his entire body. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You knew not to tell him how much it burned with the way he was reacting already. “Vox—“

“After I take care of you, you're going to point out who did this, and who watched it happen. Understood?” He knew you tried to spare your coworkers from his temper, but he wasn’t going to let that happen this time.

“It’s happened before—“ A loud whir of electricity sounded as Vox’s screen flashed and blue jolts of electricity burst around him. You shrunk back at the overwhelming power, quickly telling him, “I’m fine–”

“You didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded electric, making you swallow as he removed his overcoat to use as a towel to pat your chest dry. He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of you at work, topless, when this was the reason. He watched the way you winced with every touch of his jacket on you, fingers sparking at the redness he could see beneath the coat. His body jolted and the overcoat immediately sparked fire. “Fuck!” He tossed it to the ground, stepping on it to put the fire out.

“You need to relax,” you told him pointedly. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting,” he said childishly, taking in a deep breath before going to a closet in the large room and grabbing a spare blouse for you and an overcoat for him. At the sight of the many things he had to give to you and spoil you with in there, he calmed only slightly. “Did you at least hit her hard?” He asked as he handed you the blouse. You hummed, nodding and making a very prideful smile come to his face as you buttoned up the blouse. “Do you like this one?” He asked quickly, his evident mood shift into wanting to please you making you chuckle. “It’s not as expensive as the one that cunt ruined,” you hummed along to satiate his ego, “but I thought you’d make it look good.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “I have some more I got for you; do you want to see those instead?”

“I like this one. You picked it.” His screen buffered as he cleared his throat, a pink glow on his cheeks that he quickly got rid of. When you noticed he began to relax, you took the opportunity of being in his office to your advantage, sweetly asking, “Can we have a moment together before you go down and fire half your company?”

“Anything you want, dear,” he said, much more cheerful than he was moments ago. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I’ll call something up.” He went to the desk at the end of the room as you went to the seating area and sat on the sofa. “Where should I order from?”

“Vox, you’re at work. You shouldn’t order anything,” you had to remind him of his own rules he set for himself. “They’ll see me here–”

“Are you wearing your ring?” He asked, speaking over you.

“I’m always wearing my ring.”

He nodded, looking down at his matching golden band. “Let them see.” In the moment you gave him to think, he’d come to the more rational conclusion that he wouldn't harm anyone. Just that he’d terrify them to death by making it known that you were not to be touched ever again. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who they decided to fuck with today.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox imagine #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox hazbin

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deadghosy · 3 months

Text

THIS DUO AS CAT!READER X LUCIFER!

prompt: a sinner comes into the hotel not expecting to gain a friend so quickly because of their personality.

Note: you can be like a humanoid cat or just a normal sinner with cat ears and tail.

This man fell in love so fucking QUICKKK

He loves you as you first came or when he first met you in the hotel! Like literally this man after petting KeeKee, wanted to pet you next as your fluffy cat ears flicker at his dumb stare at you. You scoffed and went to husk to who gave you a shot a whiskey before hand.

Now after he started living in the hotel, you better be prepared to have this man clinging to you. It’s like if he is the cat instead of you being the cat in this troupe. Literally Lucifer will always be beside you smiling as he tries to pet you. You just use your hand to smack it away quickly with your reflexes.

How dare he even pet you like a cat and you purr uncontrollably on his lap. 😭💗

I can see you just literally clawing the ceiling because Lucifer tried to spray you with water and you were actually acting demonic as fuck😭 pure red eyes and loud raspy hissing.

If you are shorter than Lucifer, he is most definitely picking you up like a baby, doll, pet, you name it. He dead ass would try to flirt with you or just want you to praise his duck making and his building skills. Would wrap his arm(s) around your waist while you bear your teeth at him. Yeah you scratched him, but it’s definitely your love language! 😍 Lucifer had heart eyes as you were forced to tend to the scratches you gave him. Bros whipped, I mean he loves cat, you’re basically like a cat. You two are a match made in hell🤭.

If you are taller than Lucifer, you better pamper him. Cause you being taller makes him feel more attractive to you as he definitely has a thing for taller things. He probably will fly up to your face to get you’re attention, he’s like a love starving puppy wanting to get your longing attention as you are just a cat who has a bitch attitude towards love things. Literally one time you put your foot paw/foot to his damn face as he was trying to pet you. This man will never get tired of your attitude towards him. You probably do pick him up by his coat like a damn kitten with your hand as you stare tired from hearing his yapping.

Imagine how you literally run like a cat because you are faster on all fours so Lucifer will get on your back sometimes for fun and literally holds on tight cause you weren’t playing about being fast as fuck.

Headcannon on you shedding from your tail and Lucifer would happily clean it up so you won’t get scowled. He loves treating you like a baby, but he is the baby.

Back when you were alive, you were homeless. So that made you have a rough cattish look in hell, like a stray cat. But all you knew was how to street fight. Not a professional fighting way. So imagine you fighting some type of hotel guest and they were piss off at how you basically gave them a “dirty look.” They gave you a swing and BOOM BOOM BOOM! You gave that hoe a three piece combo to the face. Literally there was people screaming shocked and people hyping you up. You didn’t hit them as they hit the ground not getting up. But you most definitely dragged that person out by their shirt.

You had one time actually roundhouse kicked Lucifer on accident because it was dark in your room and he wanted to wake you up. Never in Lucifer’s life has he gotten his ass kicked by a sinner before.

I imagine Lucifer gifting you rubber ducks and you just smile a little liking how you are being loved but your heart closed as you think he is just playing with you.

You literally jumped and stretched around the rooftops as Lucifer flies above you finding you amazing. You are like hell hound but a feline as your body is easy to stretch and how you are so flexible.

I headcannon you actually curled your tail would Lucifer’s wrist or waist as Lucifer was going crazy in his head. Like bouncing around mentally as he just looks so calm outside

Imagine how Lucifer found it hot when you cornered him when he annoyed you to the point you pinned him to the wall with a scary expression.

I can see you sometimes just staying silent, scowling people as Lucifer just smiles.

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animeshotsh · 4 months

Text

Not the baby!! | Various x Kid!Reader |

Summary: You manage to enter Alastor's shield and now the Angels wants to attack you.

Warnings: off canon events - canon violence - our kid!reader its not a fighter TwT - Part of the family series - grammar mistakes

You managed to enter Alastor's shield just when it almost closed up. You knew you should not be in here, but you wanted to help you new big sister and help your Uncle and Friends!!

Of course it ended badly.

The first to notice you was Angel who got you using one hand then shooting the Angels.

"What are you doing here (Y/N)?" Angel asked desesperated getting a curious look from Husk.

"Why its Lucifer's kid here?" He shelled this getting the attention of other Angels now.

"(Y/N)?" Charlie called over with a worried tone seeing you.

"Hi Sis!!" You waved completly ignoring the upcoming Angels.

~☆~☆~☆~

Lucifer was losing his cool. He knew he should have been more careful when he told you about what was going to happen at the Hotel. He should had tought better, now you were there, trapped.

"Dont worry (Y/N) im going" he silently said wings flying quickly for you

~☆~☆~☆~

Once Adam broke down the shield Alastor was down there ready to fight him off. The problem was, you were there too. Because Angel tought the best protector for you would be him.

"(Y/N) you should move away form here" Alastor said softly making his shadow tentacle reach you to pull you away from him and Adam. "But Uncle I wanna help"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Saddly Alastor had lost against Adam who now had you by the leg taunting you.

"Is this the failure we missed? You seem to have made some shit Friends in here, who lets a kid fight?" He asked himself only to get a bite from you as you jerked your body.

"Fuck you"

"You are going to die you little bitch" Adam responded letting you go from the high air. Tears fell down your eyes as you saw him also destroying Sir.Pentious's ship.

"I got you!!" You were suddendly in Vaggies arms who held you protective in the air.

"Vaggie watch out!!" You tried to warn her seeing another Angel coming towards her.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Everything seemed lost. Charlie had tried to fight off Adam but could not do it. She was now hugging you, keeping you behind her with angry eyes towards the first Man.

"And now-"

A single punch was all it needed to send him flying away.

"DAD!!" Charlie and you screamed seeing the flying form of Lucifer.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Oh my precious kids!!" Lucifer said once the battle ended, Adam being killed by Nifty at the end. "Never do something like that again" your dad said to you hugging you and almost crushing you.

"Im sorry dad, I wanted to help"

"Let the adults do the work kid"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

As the hotel was re made you wondered where Alastor was. Sure he could not be dead, right?

Right?

"Did you miss me little one?" A very distinct voice asked

"UNCLE!!" In a flash you were in his arms, your own tiny ones around his neck. "I thought you were dead"

Alastor eye twitched for a moment then smiled softly "it takes more than that to kill me, my kid"

"PUT MY KID DOWN, ALASTOR" a very jealous Lucifer screamed looking at him.

"Can we go to Rosie's restaurant later?"

"Yes"

"NO, you are grounded"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Ahh.....fuck" you cursed getting a suprised look from everyone.

"What?....im a Demon too" You said getting a laught from Angel

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader

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happilykrispypirate · 1 year

Text

Don't touch her

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x hufflepuff!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, tw! abuse, bullying, and my shitty writing

Summary: Y/n has two older brothers in Ravenclaw. Both are little entitled shits that love treating their sister like shit. When Mattheo finds out when they take it too far... Well, we all know what he'll do.

A/n: @victoriapedroza thank you for requesting! Im sorry if u didn't want me to make the reader a hufflepuff, I just thought it was a good idea. It's not my best, but do let me know what you think of it.

Y/n smiled happily as she saw Mattheo waiting for her after class.

"Hi love," Mattheo smiled as Y/n came to a stop in front of him, he pecked her lips before taking her hand in his as they walked down the corridors to the Great Hall for lunch, "How was class?"

"Great! I helped Hagrid with the nifflers and one of the babies gave me a gold coin. Have you ever heard of anything like it? A niffler giving instead of taking something shiny. I feel honoured," Y/n smiled brightly.

Mattheo felt a warm feeling bubbling in his chest as he watched her smile brightly.

"That's amazing, baby," He said kissing the side of her head.

"What's also amazing is that I heard a certain someone won the potions competition again," She smirked as she eyed her boyfriend, "Another vial of liquid luck that is going to collect dust?"

"Why would I need liquid luck if I have my lucky charm right here?" Mattheo smiled as he brought their hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

"You're cute, you know that?" She smiled kissing his cheek, "Oh! I completely forgot I have herbology next. I have to go get my books. I'll see you at lunch. Tell Pansy that she has to finish that story that she told me earlier."

"I will," Mattheo smiled before kissing her, "Now hurry back."

Y/n smiled at him before she hurried towards the hufflepuff common room. When she rounded the corner she bumped straight into someone.

"Watch where you're going!" She looked up and saw Gavin and Phillip, her two older brothers. Phillip was the oldest and Gavin was only a year under him. (Btw, the years might not make sense. However we're here for the story, not math)

"Oh, it's you," Phillip said.

"Sorry, I was in a hurry. I have to get my her-"

"Yeah, we don't care," Gavin said interrupting her.

Y/n stood up and brushed her robes off, "No need to be rude," She mumbled.

"What was that?" Phillip asked harshly.

"Nothing, forget it. I'm going," She said and started to walk off before she was pulled back and pushed up against the wall.

"You've been lucky until now, you little bitch," Phillip spat, "That little boyfriend of yours has always been around. Where's he now, huh?"

"Let me go," Y/n begged, tears threatening to fall.

"Aww is little Y/n going to cry?" Gavin said mockingly.

Phillip then laughed, "I'll give you something to cry about," He said before he threw her on the ground and she landed against one of the pillars. He then proceeded to kick her in the stomach.

She went to grab her wand but Gavin stepped on her wrist. She cried out in pain.

"Don't even think about telling anyone, or you're dead," He spat before the two of them walked away.

Y/n had to move quickly to get to the common room and back to the Great Hall, all the while making sure there was no evidence, just so that Mattheo and the rest don't get suspicious.

"You took a little longer than expected, love," Mattheo said as she plopped down next to him, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just had to look for it," Y/n said, "Room's a bit of a mess."

"As always," Mattheo said chuckling.

Y/n smiled at her boyfriend and kissed him before pulling away and looking at Pansy who was in front in of her explaining the story she had told earlier. Just behind her, on the other side of the hall sat Gavin and Phillip who were both glaring at her.

She immediately turned away.

It was a few days later the bruises on Y/n's hip and wrist got worse and were sore. So, sore that she couldn't move without cringing in pain. Something she had to do internally because she couldn't show it, she didn't want Mattheo or anyone else to find out.

Thank Merlin, it was winter, or they would've gotten suspicious if she wore a long sleeved shirt.

She sat with the rest of the Slytherin gang in the Slytherin common room. She was allowed to be there. She insisted on getting permission instead of sneaking in all the time and risk getting caught and getting detention.

"I'm so ready for the weekend," Enzo said, "I can't wait to get fucked."

"Fucked as in fucked or drunk and high?" Theo asked.

"Both," Enzo said.

"I could do with a drink right now," Pansy said.

"I can help with that," Y/n smirked as she stood up. Mattheo glanced at her confused, and as she stood up her shirt lifted slightly and he could see the big purple bruise.

Y/n then pulled two bottles firewhiskey from her bag.

"Holy fuck," Enzo laughed as he took one of the bottles from her, "Hufflepuff's becoming one of us."

"Shut up, I just thought we needed something to make us feel better," She smiled as she sat back down.

She went to open the bottle but her wrist pained. Mattheo watched as she struggled and saw the bruise.

"Looks like I'm not strong enough, you want to help me babe?" She asked smiling as she held out the bottle to him.

Mattheo took the bottle from her and opened it. Deciding to ask her later and not in front of everyone.

Later then came as Mattheo was walking Y/n back to the hufflepuff common room.

"Love," Mattheo said.

"Yeah?" She replied looking over at him.

"Why are their bruises on your wrist and hip?" He asked.

Y/n's heart began to quicken.

"Uh," She said before laughing nervously, "I was holding a bag that was stacked full of books. I was cleaning my dorm of course and then I bumped into the table. Guess I'm a little fragile."

Mattheo nodded, not believing her. She knew Mattheo didn't believe her, and she was glad he didn't asked anymore questions.

Y/n once again forgot her book in her room, and the same thing happened last time. She bumped into her brothers.

This time, she didn't submit to defeat like she has always done. This time, she pulled her wand out.

"Ohh, someone's brave," Gavin said as he pulled his wand out.

Y/n looked around to see if anyone was coming. Why was the hall always empty when she runs into them?

"Just leave me alone," She said as she started to back away.

"How could we? You keep bumping into us. You need to stop running down the halls, forgetting your books," Phillip said.

"We should teach you something about that," Gavin said.

"Like... this!" Phillip then shot a spell at her but she deflected it.

Then Gavin shot a spell and she deflected it.

Soon both started shooting spells trying to disarm her. She couldn't take much because it wasn't long before her wand was thrown to the other side of the corridor.

"Now, you should know not to pull your wand on your older brothers," Phillip said, "Crucio."

Y/n fell to the ground and screamed in pain. Gavin walked up to her and started kicking her. He even threw in a punch. In her face.

"Alright that's enough," Phillip said and all the pain stopped.

Y/n felt like she could breathe again and coughed for air, and there was blood when she coughed.

"Oh that's fucking disgusting," Gavin cringed.

"Come on, let's go before someone comes along," Phillip said before they vanished down the corridor.

That's the last thing she saw before she passed out.

"I wonder what's taking Y/n so long?" Pansy said. Lunch was almost over and Y/n stilled hadn't returned.

"I'm going to go find her," Mattheo said as he stood up.

"See you guys later then," Theo said before Mattheo walked out of the Great Hall.

He rounded the corner and at the end he saw someone lying on the ground.

"Y/n," He realised as he ran over to her. She was beaten up badly. He gently picked her up before running to the Hospital Wing.

"Who would do such a thing?" McGonagall asked Dumbledore as they stood in front of the hospital bed that Y/n was laying in. Mattheo sat next to her, he refused to move until she woke up.

"There are many that envy her," Dumbledore said, "But none that would hurt her like this."

"Well obviously someone did, we have to find out who. There is no place for bullying in this school," McGonagall said before they left.

It wasn't long after that, that Y/n opened her eyes.

"Shit," She said as she realised where she was.

Mattheo's eyes shot up, "Hey," He said once he saw she was awake, "I'm here."

Y/n turned her head to him, "Hey," She said.

"Love, who did this to you?" He asked, "Don't lie to me this time. I know when you lie."

Y/n sighed, "Gavin and Phillip," She said, "They've been doing this for years. Gotten worse and worse."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mattheo asked.

"They're my brothers. I'll never escape them," She said.

Mattheo remained silent. He only remained calm for her, but he wasn't going to hold back the next time he sees them.

A week later Y/n was healed. Mattheo never left her side.

They were all sitting outside under the big tree in the courtyard. It was a peaceful day.

However that peacefulness didn't last long because Gavin and Phillip arrived.

Mattheo glared at them before he stood up from his where he sat and walked over to them.

"Oh dear," Y/n sighed as she watched Mattheo punch Phillip.

"What the fuck dude?" Gavin said before he himself got punched.

"Don't you ever fucking touch her again," Mattheo said as he kept throwing punches at Gavin. Phillip tried to pull him off but instead got himself landed under Mattheo receiving multiple punches.

"We should probably stop him," Pansy said.

"Nah, this is fun," Y/n said.

"What in Godric's name is going on out here?" McGonagall asked as she rushed outside. Mattheo got up and glared at the two boys whose faces were covered in blood.

"Just making sure these two never hurt touch their sister again," He said.

"They're the ones that hurt her?" McGonagall asked and Mattheo nodded, "I'd like to see you two in my office the second you're out of the hospital wing. You'll also get 3 months of detention. Every day."

McGonagall then turned to Mattheo, "As for you Mr Riddle. Five points will be taken from Slytherin for your act, but 25 points will be rewarded for standing up for your peers," McGonagall gave Y/n a wink before she disappeared with the two bloodied up boys behind her.

Mattheo walked back over and sat down again before pulling Y/n into her arms and kissing the side of her head, "That'll teach them never to touch my girl ever again."

#mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo #mattheo riddle x fem reader #mattheo riddle #x reader #reader insert #x fem reader #draco x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #riddle #riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader

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