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#au content: ghosts
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When Eddie sees her, sitting on the picnic table, her feet shuffling back and forth on the bench like that one dancing scene from The Breakfast Club (so what if he went to go see it? It's a good flick!), he almost runs back the way he came.
Because here's the thing about Robin Buckley.
While Eddie's status at the bottom of the social ladder is guaranteed, what with his hobbies and his music and his ability to irritate even the most patient of individuals (bar Uncle Wayne, blessed be the man), he doesn't fuck with Robin Buckley.
She was never anything to write home or gossip over coffee about, not when Eddie started his first senior year or even before that, when he was just starting up Hellfire and went to band to see if he could recruit any lonesome souls. Robin wasn't interested then, more keen to avoid his eye and fumble with her uniform, so he chalked her up as another lost to the masses.
Then all the shit with the Zombie Boy (a killer moniker, wouldn't that make for an awesome song title?! But he doesn't know if it'd be like, copyright infringement or whatever) went down and he got a little more protective of his circle, cloaking them from the unmerciful eyes of the Hawkins mob, pushing back when shit hit the fan and that mob tried impeding on his people.
And it worked! Nobody messed with him or his, not enough to be met with more than a snort - hell, even that asshole Hargrove stayed away after Eddie pulled a knife on him in the school parking lot. He wonders if all that wild anger the dick had to choke down went into the fight he had with -
Anyways.
Point is that Eddie knows his place, and thanks to a little intimidation and a lot of false-turned-true-confidence, nobody messes with him.
The thing is - he still doesn't mess with Robin Buckley.
Like he said, she was always another one of the masses to him, and he never expected any different.
But then something happened to her.
Some people say that she got trapped in the mall fire and it burned half her face off, she's just wearing enough makeup to cover it up, but it messed with her head.
Other people say she was always a little - uh, airheaded, he'll say, to be polite - and the Starcourt fire just made it more obvious, burned through the façade she'd wear in public.
One or two voices whisper that she's being haunted, that when she laughs to herself in the silence of the classroom, it's because of the spirits of Starcourt's casualties that lurk in her shadow.
(That last one was Jeff actually, and Eddie has to hand it to him for the poetic imagery.)
Any way he hears it, Eddie's instincts go red alert, telling him to give Robin a wide berth in the hallways, to avoid eye contact for longer than a single moment, to ignore her quiet snickers every time he ties his hair up.
So yeah, when he's about to head to his favourite picnic table and finds wacky Robin Buckley laughing to herself as the leaves around the table kick up without a hint of wind in the air, he almost turns around and shoves himself back into his van. Eddie Munson may be a freak but he's no -
"Oh, you're here."
He freezes in his steps, glancing back to see Robin smiling thinly at him, one legged crossed over the other as she leans back. Her eyes glaze over for a second before she barks out a laugh, making Eddie jump in place.
"Didn't expect you, to be honest." She tilts her head.
Eddie's throat is too dry. He starts a sentence, backtracking when the leaves stop kicking up and it's just his shaky voice in the silence between the trees. "Well, it is my spot, Buckley."
Her eyes glint and she uncrosses her legs just to spread them, leaning in and staring at Eddie with an untethered expression stretching across her face. "Is it?" Her raspy voice asks.
Blood roars in Eddie's ears. His fingers twitch, and he's ready to run.
"Don't." She orders and he freezes. "We need to talk."
He hates it when people say that. It's always, always bad news and it's just too cliché.
"And what, pray tell," he says, raising his arms out with a confidence he doesn't feel. "Is it that you could ask of me?"
The leaves kick up behind him. He resolutely ignores it.
Sighing, Robin crosses her legs, shuffling back on the table (and they call Eddie a heathen, jeez). She looks to the right, where the leaves are swirling in a mini tornado. Her smile is small, and a little sad.
"We need your help."
Eddie gasps as the leaves kick up ferociously, the wind bites at his fingertips and Robin glares at him, at the chaos around them with eyes like nothing he's ever seen.
"Stop it."
"Wh -"
"I said stop," She glares at him and his jaw clicks shut. "We agreed - yeah, yeah, we did! Stop it, you're scaring him!"
"I -"
"I'd say the grown-ups are talking," Robin cuts him off with an eye-roll. "But someone's being a big baby."
"Look, Buckley -"
"I swear to god," Robin waves a hand towards Eddie. "Either you play nice, or we're never figuring this out! Do you wanna be invisible to everyone forever?!"
There's a heavy silence at that.
No leaves rustling, no wind, no nothing.
It's like the entire forest just went...dead.
Then Eddie feels a brush of something down his hand and he screams.
"Awesome!" Eddie jumps when Robin grabs his arm (when did she leave the table?!), staring at her smile as foul terror quakes his bones. "Don't be afraid, Eddie. We won't hurt you."
A rustle of leaves smack his shin and he shrieks, unable to jump (or run) thanks to Robin's steel grip.
"Well, not physically."
"Buckley, I have never messed with you before," Eddie whispers as the something trails down his hand, shoulders and face. He's frozen in the wake of the touch. "Fellow freaks of Hawkins and all, but -"
Whatever it is, it grips Eddie by the shoulders and his jaw clicks shut. Robin's grasp on his arm tightens and she nods, staring into space.
"Okay, so could you do it?"
Silence. Eddie's heartbeat races.
"Like what?"
The something ghosts over his fingers and he almost whimpers.
"Oh, like this!"
With that, Robin grabs Eddie's hand and takes off one of his rings. Before he can sputter or shout or cry, she replaces it with one of her own.
And then, like he was always there, Steve Harrington appears before his eyes.
A bloodied, ghastly Steve Harrington who's staring right into him.
"Holy shit," Eddie whispers and the spectre grins a sharp, toothy grin.
"Hey Munson," Steve croons. "Miss me?"
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akanemnon · 10 months
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Oh they mad
FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT
MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)
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cielmeowtan · 3 months
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Page 4 (NSFW content) is over here: PATREON
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Pages 3, 4 and 5! Hope you like them.
Important: page 4 is just NSFW, you are not missing key information of the plot.
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diejager · 5 months
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JAKAJWIH I just saw this post and https://www.tumblr.com/citrusbunnies/732151502028898304
I can’t help but imagine deer!hybrid reader that’s with 141, and they/she/he (it doesn’t matter lol) walked out of the bushes or woods to the team inside and their reaction to it!
Also I LOVE your work, every time I see that you have posted wether it be recently or if they are older and they just appear in my feed. I get excited! 😭 also if you don’t wanna do this, feel free to ignore COMPLETELY! I just saw this and I thought it was so cute😭😭
That deer image is actually funny… this drabble though, not so much.
Doe Cw: hybrid, DARKFIC, IMPLIED DUB-CON/NON-CON, kidnapping, training, implied sex, tell me if I missed any.
They cued in on the rustling sound, bushes ruffling against an unknown body hiding behind the tree line, moving as if they were unaware of the men or uncaring of danger. Rifles pointed towards the source, Price held control of the situation, aware of the danger when hunting feral hybrids. Ferals were unpredictable, unable to find the distinction between friend or foe, but they were smart, cunning and weren’t shy to group together, forming hunting packs. Those that were impossible to rehabilitate would stay in the wild, some causing trouble and others keeping to themselves, living alone or in a community they built on their own.
Despite the trepidataion and tension in their shoulders, the waited, breaths steady and unyielding to the harsh winds of early winter. They expected a wolf - or a few - or a bear to jump at them, but were released to see antlers poking out of the bush, tines interlocked with green and dried leaves still tied to a thin branch, followed by perked ears, rounded ends flicking against the leafage stuck around the antlers. A head soon followed, big, doe eyes with the dilated, rounded pupils staring at them with timid curiosity, uncertain of the danger.
Rather than a big brown bear or a deranged grey wolf, they found a curious deer hybrid. Price raised his fist, ordering the three of them to lower their weapons, holding it to his chest, he took a step towards you, slow and tentative. You jerked back, body moving out of your hiding place, fully exposing yourself to men —men deprived of the gentle touch of a woman and the loving embrace of one. You wore rags, hanging off the small straps of your shoulder and stopped mid-thigh, soft and plush skin; your dress hugged the promiscuous curves of your hips and the swell of your breasts and ass, leaving nothing to their imagination. You were a sight to hungry and deprived men like them, gruff and overworked, tired and wanting a moment of reprieve to relax and work off the stress.
“Hello,” it hadn’t crossed his mind whether or not you spoke, seeing that you were dressed in nothing but rags despite looking clean and untouched by filth, simply delicious to their eyes. “I’m John,” he gave you a smile, his eyes creased and cheeks wrinkled, his lips stretched under his bear-like beard, “Who are you?”
His softer approach made you compliant, mumbling out your name in a soft voice. You were skittish, looking as if a single abrupt movement would have you buck away from them, and they couldn’t have that, you were a source of information and much more. Soft curves and doe-eyed filled with a sort of innocence, able to thrive in the wild with feral hybrids, ye untouched by their rough and untamed character.
“Who… who are they?” Your eyes gazed over the three men behind Price, hands pulled to your chest in an effort to give yourself comfort and protection against the dark gleam in their brown and blue eyes.
“That’s Soap,” your eyes followed his hand, hovering towards the men with striking, blue irises and a weird haircut. “Gaz,” he motioned towards the man with warm, brown skin and a pretty face. “And Ghost,” he was the most intimidating, broad and big, it made you shudder. “What are you doing here?”
The question lingered in the air, you frowned, seemingly unwilling to divulge your reason because you had the same question, wanting to know why big, armed men were threading in your home. You looked away, staring at their feet rather than their strong gaze, feet shuffling around. They watched you bite your lip, pearly whites peaking under your lip to sink down in your glossy lips, perfect for kissing. How would you taste if they got their hands on you? Would your mouth taste as sweet and delicious as you looked? You were temptation on two feet.
“This is my home,” you reluctantly told them, becoming more anxieties by the second. It seemed like you were waiting for the right moment to skip away, to rush through the forest and hide away from the men who had a sudden interest in you. “You?”
“Classified, love.”
You perked up and shied away at the way he called you, his rumbling voice turning soft and disarming, near becoming for a sensitive hybrid like you. You were so adorable when you acted all shy, ears flicking and little nose scrunching up. You were naturally wary of anyone as a prey animal, vulnerable and without claws or sharp teeth against anything bigger than you. They could all see the tension building in your body, ears backed against your head and fingers fumbling around, his voice might’ve soothed you, but his reply made you fearful, suspicious enough to look more and more like you were going to flee.
If you ran, they would follow, Ghost would probably the one to catch you first, surprisingly fast and nimble for someone of his stature. He’d tackle you to the ground, scruff you and hold you down despite your wails and take you back, you had something they needed. Ghost would do the training, prepping you however he deemed fit and punish you if you lashed out. Gaz and Soap could easily break you in, their gentler countenance working in their favour. A push and pull, essentially, with Soap’s puppy-like aggression and mischievousness, and Gaz’s gentle care and grounding hand. Price would keep you in check, sometimes overseeing Ghost’s training and other times participating in it, being the disapproving and sympathetic one when faced with Ghost’s cruel and degrading ways.
You were pretty in rags - you would look pretty in anything you wore - but you’d be the prettiest naked and stuffed on their laps, eyes rolled back and breasts jostling. Taking you would take care of their needs, the temptation pulsing in their crotch. You wouldn’t mind it, would you? It would be better than sleeping on the rough, forest terrain, victim to both nature and the wilderness. You would be protected and taken care of, what else would you want?
“Why don’t you come with us, love,” it wasn’t an offer, it was a demand —an order.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday
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dathomirdumpsterfire · 5 months
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another entry in my post 'twin suns ghost au'. #3 so far.
the entire idea here is we do NOT leave a depressed man alone in the desert for twenty years. INSTEAD we let his rival haunt the fuck out of him. 👍🏽
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cordeliawhohung · 28 days
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pet!au part 2 | ghoap x fem!reader
simon brings you home
cw: stalking, panty/clothing stealing, drugging, kidnapping, non-con touching, nsfw, simon is a freak and johnny is pathetic
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Things began to go missing in your apartment around July. 
They were simple things at first. Items that could easily be lost in some hidden crevice you wouldn’t find until you moved out of the place. At first, it started out with clothing, and they were usually items you wouldn’t pay much mind to. When you lost your favorite pair of underwear, you treated it just like you did with your mismatched socks. What a shame. You’ll just have to buy more later. 
Then a pair of underwear became a pair of shorts, which then became a bra, and then a shirt, and then your favorite sweater. It was the one you always wore when it was cold out, and though you hadn’t worn it for months, you noticed its distinct disappearance from your closet. Strange. You swore it was hanging up with the rest of your jumpers earlier that week. Perhaps you had put it in storage and forgot? You’d have to check some other time, you were going to be late to work. 
While you had been plenty attentive when it came to your missing clothing, there were many other things you didn’t notice. Like a shampoo bottle slightly out of place in your shower. Strands of hair untangled from your brush. New scratches on your deadbolt. The masked man who watched you exit your apartment. 
Simon had learned that when it came to obtaining pets, he needed to do the process slowly. Snatching you right off of the streets wasn’t going to accomplish anything if things were too unfamiliar to you. No, he needed to make sure you were comfortable. So he tracked down the brand of toiletries you used, your style of clothing, your sizing, everything. He found those exact brands and bought copies that would greet you when he would finally bring you home. 
Meanwhile, he had an impatient animal at home to satiate, so taking a few personal items couldn’t hurt. What better way to get Johnny acquainted with your presence than having him sleep with the pair of panties he had snatched from your laundry? He was certain he had caught the mutt jerking off with the fabric wrapped around his cock the other night, but he was just happy to not be pestered into fucking the pathetic thing, so he let it slide. 
There were more important things for Simon to do than fuck Johnny every time his cock got hard, which was often. That was going to be your job, as it seemed like you needed a new one based on the rejection email he saw on your laptop. Looks like that interview you had been dressed up for a few weeks back hadn’t gone all that great, and judging by the dead look in your eyes as you worked the late shift at the bar, you were desperate. 
Good. Desperate pets always made the best listeners. 
At least your top was nice that night. Something Johnny would certainly enjoy seeing you in. Some low cut tank top that attempted to fight off the sweltering heat that lingered in the small confines of the bar. Even Simon had to admit that he felt sweaty and claustrophobic in that place, yet he still refused to remove that thick balaclava. The perspiration caused the skin on your chest to become illuminated under the dull glow of the light fixtures above you, and you were too busy serving drink after drink to pay any mind to the strange bloke hidden in the corner. For such a perceptive pet, you couldn’t manage to see the forest through the trees. Always paid perfect attention to the head on the beers you served, and how clean your station was, but couldn’t taste the pill Simon had slipped into the soda you had sipped on that night. 
Of course, he was patient with it. Didn’t want to slip you anything too early into your shift. Your co-workers were bound to get annoyed with your absence and go looking for you. No, he waited until the patrons dwindled to just a small handful before approaching you to pay for the drink he hadn’t taken a sip of all night. Simon was well aware of the effect he had on people. He was a large man with unkind eyes and a bitter attitude, yet you still put on a brave face and smiled at him as you took the cash from his hand. Didn’t bother to check your drink for tampering before downing the rest like it was a shot when you returned. 
By the time the world started to spin and you felt your dinner from that night wanting to come back up to say hello, Simon was ready. With pupils blown so wide and dilated, it was impossible for you to think straight. Your body didn’t know right from wrong, and so when his arm wrapped around your waist, it didn’t fight against him. Everything you were had been rendered into nothing but a perfect, pliant mess for him. 
It wasn’t until Simon pulled in front of the house that he realized he might have given you too strong of a dose. You hadn’t stirred the entire car ride, and he had to check your pulse to see if you were still breathing, and he was slightly relieved when he felt the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He didn’t even want to imagine the whining he would have to hear from Johnny if he had accidentally killed you. Not to worry. It was best if you were asleep anyway. Johnny would certainly pounce on you otherwise. Cradling you in his arms, your limp body was brought into the house, and Johnny bounded out of the living room the moment the door slammed shut behind him. His eyes were as wide as saucers the moment they landed on your body. You looked so soft. He wanted to dive right into you. 
“Down,” Simon warned.
Johnny’s impatience was drowned out by the static that jolted through his body. This new excitement had his blood coursing through his veins with resurrected vigor. Refusing to give Simon any reason to deny him his new treat, Johnny trailed behind him like a good pup as he brought you into the bedroom. You were placed on the mattress with such care one could have confused you for some prized possession. If he wasn’t afraid you’d shatter, Johnny would have thrown himself on top of you. 
“She’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Si. A goddamn angel, she is. Please, can I? Let me touch her, I wanna touch her,” Johnny asked, eyes begging for approval. 
Before giving him a reply, Simon’s hand reached for his throat. The thick leather collar that adorned his neck always got twisted around one way or another, and he quickly straightened it out. Silver glinted in the dim lighting of the bedroom as Simon’s thumb swiped across his dog tag. Soap was the name Johnny proudly wore on his collar; one he never even dreamed of taking off. 
“Play nice, yeah?” Simon ordered. 
Johnny nodded, and once he had gotten his confirmation, Simon let go of the leather around his throat. Wasting no time appearing by your side, Johnny laid down next to your motionless body on the mattress where he enveloped you in his embrace. Had you been awake, you certainly would have cried out at his crushing grip, but your unconscious body didn’t know any better. It gave him no reaction as his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck where he inhaled long and deep against your skin. 
“Fuck,” he groaned, hips grinding against your thigh, “smells like heaven too. Christ…” 
Wandering hands pawed at your body, taking things from you in your unaware state that you were sure to miss come morning. But how was he supposed to stop when your supple flesh felt like a divine comfort in the palm of his hand? Simon had gotten you for him. This was his right. This was what he had earned. 
“When will she wake up?” Johnny asked, not bothering to remove his face from your neck. 
“Dunno,” Simon replied, bored. “Have your fun, just don’t fuck her. You hear me, mutt? Keep that fuckin’ cock dry ‘til I tell you, yeah?” 
“Yes sir,” he answered, though it was impossible to fully hide the whine in his tone. 
As Simon’s feet meandered out of the room, Johnny only buried himself further into you. Hands under your shirt, hardened bulge against your thighs — he couldn’t get enough of you. Your scent was intoxicating, and he couldn’t hold back the groans that escaped his mouth while his lips pressed against your jaw. 
“Welcome home, Bonnie.”
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keegansgf · 2 months
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bassist mizu fanart inspired by that one time sodo bled on his guitar
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Bonus!!!
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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months
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Ok but what if
What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)
She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.
Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.
She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.
Except the stares.
She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.
He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.
He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.
The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.
"Is this what you want? Hm?"
She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.
The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.
He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.
"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.
And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.
"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"
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ghcstao3 · 5 months
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youtuber soap and editor ghost
for the longest time soap went editing his own videos because he didn’t trust anyone else—but then as his following grows, some of the work becomes overwhelming, and he’s forced to hire someone to help lighten the load a bit
the only application that stands out to him is ghost’s. his editing style is unique while also adhering to a style soap had developed for himself, he’s professional, and something about him has soap thinking that he could trust ghost wholeheartedly with such an important part of his videos
and apparently he’s right to—his fans clock the change immediately when ghost’s name is put in the description, commenting on how well done it is, noting all the little quirks ghosts had ventured out to add without knowing whether or not it’d be something soap would like, or knowing if it’d work with his audience
it doesn’t take long for them to reach that point of the classic ‘referring to the editor as an in-video bit’ part of their working relationship, and the fans eat it right up. though ghost’s cameos are sparse, they’re always perfectly timed, and people start to beg for more appearances because ghost and soap seem like the perfect balance for one another
and is it a surprise, maybe a year or so down the line when soap introduces a guest to his video and it turns out to be ghost? no, not at all
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"What if - ooh, what about Patricia?"
Robin rolls her eyes, picking at the grass by her ankles. She's tempted to throw some at Steve but she doesn't really wanna see the blades phase through him right now, even if he'll play up his outrage to distract her.
He's been doing that a lot lately. Trying to distract her from the fact that he's - that -
"Okay, okay, hear me out - Chrissy Cunningham."
"The cheerleader?" Robin wrinkles her nose. "Steve."
"It could happen!" Steve says defensively,  sticking his tongue out when Robin gives him her most 'seriously?' face she can muster. "Don't judge a book by its cover, or whatever."
"You're literally meant to do that, that's what the cover's for!"
"Well then, why do people even say that?!"
"I don't know!"
"Is it always like this with you two?" The grouchiest voice cuts through them and Steve spins around in place, floating up even higher so he can stare down at Eddie.
Robin just snorts. "Pretty much."
"Don't be too jealous, Munson," Steve coos, turning himself upside down with a wide grin. "You'll find your soulmate at some point, probably."
"Oh wow, probably," Eddie grouses, and Robin has to bite back a laugh when Steve, still upside down, floats behind him with a silly face stretching out...the scar on his chin. "I am ever so gracious for your faith, oh Generous King."
"This guy's a riot," Steve laughs, poking a finger through Eddie's shoulder and making him jump in place. "Bobbie, can we keep him?"
She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "I'll end up being the one taking care of him if we do."
"I'm right fucking here," Eddie glares at the both of them, which is just prime material to get them snickering. "Whatever, did it work or not?"
And with that, the laughs cut off.
Robin remembers.
Steve's dead.
"Hey," The ghost of Steve floats over to her, sitting down beside her on the grass. "It's okay -"
"It didn't -" Robin chokes out, avoiding Eddie's eye, staring down at the dirt that she's plucked bare of green. "It didn't. They couldn't see."
The air is silent.
"Probably for the best," comes a sigh and Robin feels rage boil through her blood.
"What the hell?" She glares up at Eddie, who holds his hand up in surrender.
"Look, I know you're both desperate to get your little 'Party' up to speed but like...I mean, just look at him." Eddie waves to all of Steve's ghost, who looks more and more affronted with every word Eddie says. "Do you really think it's a good idea for actual children who watched him die to see him again in the exact same get-up? With the same wounds?"
Robin pauses but Steve just glares harder. "Oh sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to go shopping at Ghosts-R-Us and pick a whole new outfit! What, you think I want to be stuck in this uniform? In the shorts?"
Eddie's face goes red and Robin distantly thinks 'serves you right' as the echo of "watched him die" cycles through her brain. "Well I - I don't know, you're a fucking ghost, you should have ghostly powers or something!"
"Have you ever met a ghost before?!"
"Have you?"
"Stop," Robin chokes out and she immediately gets the chills as Steve waves a hand through her shoulder. "Just stop."
She can't feel him, because he's gone. He's gone. He's gone -
"I'm right here, Rob," Steve's voice murmurs to her and she sobs. "I'm always with you, promise."
"I'm so sorry," she cries, burying her face in her hands and curling up, grief pulling down at her heart. "I'm so sorry, Steve -"
"Shh, it's okay, birdie," he says and she almost feels the warmth he should have. "It's not your fault, it's okay."
"I thought - I just - if we tell everyone, maybe they'll know what - how to - I'm sorry -"
"Wasn't your fault, Bucks," Eddie says gruffly, sitting down next to her roughly. "Just what happens sometimes. That kinda shit...'s out of our control."
She sniffles, burying her hand deeper into her own skin, hoping it'll suffocate the tears out of her, or maybe make her pass out so she doesn't have to think about all of it for a bit, or scratch away the endless void of pain inside her chest -
"Birdie, hey, look at me."
She doesn't.
"Robin."
She can't.
"Please?"
With another choked out sob, she looks up to see Steve Harrington, smiling at her like he never left. Like she didn't leave him.
"No matter what happened, or what happens," he says softly, nearly see-through fingers trying to brush her hair out of her face. Maybe she should get bangs. "I'm always with you, Robs. Not even until death do us part. Platonic soulmates for the rest of time."
She wails and shoves her face into his shoulder, not even caring if she passes through him. A hand pats her back, probably Eddie's, and she sobs louder because why did he get to see Steve? Why did she force him to know? Why couldn't they just be happy?
"Woah, how the hell -"
Robin blinks.
She's sobbing into Steve's shoulder. He's patting her back.
She quickly moves back and stares, Steve's own surprised face staring back, no bruises or scars or Scoops uniform in sight.
"What -"
And in a snap, his face turns back to battered and the warm red sweater he was wearing just a second ago turns back into the bright blue sailor shirt. His hair loses its fluff and goes back to that sad, wiry, bloodied mop.
He changed.
"So you do have ghost powers!" Eddie says triumphantly, as Steve sputters.
"I guess?!" He looks down at his hands, reaching out to touch Robin's fingers, but all she feels is the cold. "How did - why did it stop?"
With one last sniffle, she cups the air around his fingers and looks up at the both of them, her Steve and their spontaneously adopted Eddie (in retrospect, maybe they are weirdo magnets? Better think about that later). She says, with as much determination as she can muster, "This isn't over. We're getting you back."
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starry-bi-sky · 29 days
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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out
and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.
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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 
Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.
He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 
Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 
Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  
He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 
Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 
He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  
He has no mouth, but he must scream. 
Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 
Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 
Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 
Scrappy is just not enough. 
He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 
Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 
But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 
Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 
He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 
Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.
Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 
Being dead is agony. 
Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 
His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 
In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 
Being dead hurts. 
249 notes · View notes
tragedry · 1 month
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the sbg kids, but instead of them getting trapped into the phantom dimension they get trapped into a corn maze.
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wassli-li · 3 months
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Cover for "Red Rover, Red Rover" written by @ciderwitch and illustrated by me in a collaboration for the Ghoap Discord Server Valentine's event. It was fun and the fic is amazing! Go check it out ♥
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diejager · 4 months
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Hybrid AUs masterlist
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Reminder : My blog contains dark/yandere content and have 18+ fanfics, so MDNI with NSFW fics. I also do fluff and angst. All my works are fiction : I don’t own any of the characters I write for; there might be triggering subjects - please see the warnings before reading. None of the gifs or visuals I use in my fics are mine.
Your consumption of media is your responsibility and yours alone.
Nav | CoD
[dark, fluff, yandere, nsfw(*), angst, request]
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Wolfie
Pairing: cod men x wolf hybrid!reader
Wolfie | r,f
Training* | r (Price&Ghost)
Tiger Heat* | r,f (tiger!Horangi)
Doe
Pairing: Task Force 141 x doe hybrid!reader
Doe* | r,d
Normal | r,d
Bunny
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x bunny hybrid!reader
Bunny | r,f
Needy Bunny pt1* | r
Needy Bunny pt2* | r
Puppy
Pairing: Task Force 141 x puppy!reader
Puppy* | d
headcanon* | r,f,d
Hyper* | r
Pairing: Ghoap x puppy!reader
Quiet, Pup* | r,f
Cow
Pairing: Bull!cod men x cow!reader
Pasture* | r
Kitty
Headcanon* | d,r
Bear
Honey Slick* | r,f
949 notes · View notes
brokenpieces-72 · 4 months
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Monster!141 x female! Jackalope/wendigo reader
CW/TW: poor eating habits, mentions of eating, mentions of human meat, crying, younger reader, note: in no way am I intending to offend anyone.
This was inspired by both @diejager and @bluegiragi and includes the reader character Hunter. This is also my first fanfiction being posted here and I have a couple to come if this one goes well.
A program is set up for hybrids that are considered difficult to control or dangerous to be around in public. Usually this is when their current living conditions are deemed as unsafe.
A jackalope with little knowledge of their own self fits both sides so locations and positions are set up for them to be in a safe controlled environment to learn how to keep themselves under control.
Price isn’t exactly happy when Laswell brings this to him. He’s not a babysitter and neither are his men. She explains to him there is little to be done and while she doesn’t agree with sending a vulnerable, uneducated, untrained teenager to a military base that deals with monsters, humans and hybrids alike, there isn’t much she can do either. Thankfully she does have some say in it, able to choose who comes on to the base. The files for candidates are sent to Price as well for review and upon looking at yours with a very dark and concerning past, he considers tossing it aside. Then he sees what hybrid you are. Having a few encounters in his past with hybrids like you he figures it would be safer taking you in then letting someone else get to you.
You do receive some training before transferring with a Retainer/handler who watches over you and determines whether you are ready to integrate into society. You aren’t sure if this will really help you join society but you figure it’s better someone taking you in rather than staying in the program. Price intends to put you to work after all and the location isn’t without risk. You’re told there are other hybrids on base, and you assume there will be at least a couple.
The first person you meet is Nikolai, the pilot for the awkward bumpy flight to base. He’s almost twice your height, plenty of people you have met are. You’re not very tall so not surprising, but you aren’t very used to people. Part of the program especially for you is keeping you isolated from most humans. His friendly attitude towards you is a little startling but you warm up to it quickly.
The flight was mostly your retainer setting ground rules and briefing you on what you will be doing. You would be training with him mostly, and doing everything he says. No stuffing your face, meals kept strict, and no seconds or late snacks. Nikolai calls you to the front halfway through the journey and lets you sit next to him. He could overhear your conversation with the retainer, wanted to give you a break from it while wanting to learn more about you.
You don’t have much to say, cause well you haven’t done much on your own. Well you do enjoy drawing, and reading. Sometimes writing is fun but that’s mostly it so far. He tells you a bit about the 141, recounting the small tales but while hinting at what hybrids you’ll be working with.
Soon you land on the base and exit the chopper heading towards the Task Force 141. In front is a dragon hybrid and next to him is a human, both in uniform. Names are exchanged and you’re led inside the base where you meet the others. You notice he’s missing a wing and his tail wrapping around the human’s leg. As a hybrid your instincts tell you what he’s doing. You’re not a massive threat to him being so young, but his body language makes it clear the value he puts in the medic and likely the rest of his men. He read your file, so you can’t blame him for being extra protective. You keep your head down as you’re taken inside with your handler.
You’re introduced to each of the 141 including the human, who asks to do a health assessment before anything else. Your retainer is strongly against this, insisting that you’ve already been cleared and don’t require one. There’s somewhat of a back and forth between them with you simply standing there. Your handler raises his voice and you have to dig your nails into your palm to not run off. You’re wondering if your should offer your own choice or ask someone what you should do while waiting. Price puts it forward that you get a check up so that Hunter can assess your conditions first hand.
You follow Hunter to their station in the infirmary, taking you to a private room. Hunter gets many looks while you follow them from the other soldiers with a couple even following with them to the room. You meet a harpy called Gaz and a werewolf called Soap. They stick closer to Hunter almost in a protective sense. Though each of them give you an acknowledgement. Soap has never smelled a hybrid like you before, and Gaz wasn’t sure what to make of you either. Your rabbit ears and antlers were hardly a cause for alarm though. You weren’t exactly intimidating. Hunter takes you into the private room while the two hybrids wait outside, offering to help them with paperwork and taking you to wherever you need to go next. The examination is very simple, checking to see your vitals, understanding how you worked so Hunter could help you on missions, and learning any instinctual habits you may have.
When Hunter asks you to take off your hoodie and remove your shirt, you do so. Their eyes go wide upon seeing your body. Your retainer’s “work” was evident by your rib cage and flattening stomach.
“When was the last time you ate?”Hunter asks.
When you tell them the last time you ate, they excuse themselves. You wait for about 15 minutes, when there’s a knock telling you to get dressed and come out. Gaz is still there but clearly Soap had left with Hunter. He takes you to a small room for you to bunk in for the next while.
You later find out Hunter had left the room and smacked your retainer for his methods. Even Price had to get involved to keep the two from getting more violent. Hunter is certainly a force to be reckoned with when it comes to patients. The handler believes that limiting your food intake will help you keep control. Hunter doesn’t agree with starving you, but Price can’t really argue with it.
The next while you’re training, and you do everything you can to keep up. Your limits are pushed and Price isn’t about to go easy on you. Partially cause he hopes the retainer will increase your food intake. It’s a lot, and Hunter doesn’t like seeing you running laps and drills knowing you haven’t been eating much. You push yourself hard, not giving in to judgements from humans or the other hybrids. It doesn’t matter if you’re the last or the worst or even fail the most, you keep pushing.
Meals are strict, with small but reasonable portions for you and eating by yourself in your room. For the next while this becomes the routine, with the occasional snack being slid to you by Hunter. It does make sleep difficult and your stomach growls periodically. Soap takes notice right away how bad it is, your stomach is almost like a random alarm for him, that he can’t shut off.
“You hungry?” He asks sarcastically. You shake your head, only for your stomach to object again. Soap rolls his eyes.
“Take a couple.” He says offering you some of his snacks. When you try to turn it down, he starts insisting harder. “Come on, the noise is drivin me bloody mad. Take em, a few won’t kill ya.”
You do so, and you take another couple after. Soon enough he’s slipping you pieces of his snacks when your handler isn’t around, like chips or cookies.
You have to go to school still, off base and some jerks decided to lock in a closet. Despite your protests and pleas they decide to leave you there overnight. You have a few snacks but you can feel yourself getting increasingly hungry, and you know it won’t be long until you lose it. You try your handler but they aren’t picking up. You don’t want to but you call Soap who picks up groggily.
“The hell is callin…”
“Soap it’s me…I’m really sorry…”
“…kid? The bleeding hell you still doing up?Wait, where the ell are you?”
You explain you’re stuck and hungry and really need help.
“Alright alright…I’m on my way… you need food?”
“Yes.”
He sighs and asks what you want to eat, if there’s any comfort food you have while he’s getting his shoes and pants on.
“Are you mad…” you ask in a small voice he can just barely hear over the phone. He’s been in Highschool as a hybrid and had people pick on him, call him a mutt yank at his tail, try to get him in trouble and whatnot.
“I’m mad at the pieces of shite that did this to you. What do you want to eat?” He says. You tell him and wait patiently after he hangs up.
Gaz is woken up, and looks over.
“Was goin on…” Gaz asks.
“Kid is stuck at school. Literally.” Soap says, lacing his shoes.
“She have food?” Gaz mutters rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“No, so I’m getting her some.”
“What she want?”
Soap tells him and he orders it for pick up before getting dressed himself.
“What is she still doing at school?” Gaz asked pulling his hoodie on. “Little help?”
Soap helps get Gaz’s wings through the slots on his hoodie as he explains. Gaz can relate. He’s been bullied as well, and he’ll you’re a kid with a strong will. It’s not fair for you to be pushed so hard only for school to make you feel like shit. They pick up the food and head over to the school.
“Come on.” Soap jogs to the door and tries it. “Mother…they don’t check if anyone’s still inside?”
Gaz takes one of his feathers off and picks the lock. Gaz opens it and Soap shifts and gets in, as soon as he can fit through the door.
“Kid you here?” He yells. Nothing. Gaz comes up behind him.
“I want to make a lassie joke so hard right now.” Gaz admits, while Soap picks up your scent and hurries off up and down the halls, trying to figure out where you are. He starts scratching at a maintenance door. Gaz knocks on it.
“Kid you in there?” He calls.
“Y-yes!” You call back.
“We’re gonna help you okay? Just hold tight.”
“Gaz move.” Soap says. Gaz just barely gets out of the way before Soap manages to smash it in. They find you curled up and clutching your stomach. Gaz flaps away the dust before stepping over the broken remains of the door. He gives you the bag ripping it open and you hands go in quickly. You avenously eat away at the first thing you get, a still warm hashbrown . One bite and you stand up but Gaz keeps you sitting.
“Don’t choke, finish that first.” He orders. You do as he says a mutter through mouthfuls, “sorry.”
“So what exactly happened?” Soap asks.
“They pulled my ears and kept asking to see my tail… kept telling them I didn’t have one.” You mutter, finishing the hashbrown. “A few of them grabbed me and shoved me in here…kept calling me ‘bunny’ and ‘rabbit’. Said they would stuff me later.”
“No one’s stuffing anything except the assholes that did this and where it don’t shine.” Soap growls. I’m the dark it’s a little more intimidating with yellow glowing eyes. Gaz stretches a wing around you and gives you another piece of the order to munch on while helps you out of the room. You go on about how they kept messing with you in various childish ways. They had yanked your ears, played with your horns and called you a bunny breeder. Gaz and Soap get you into the backseat and encourage you to keep eating.
“You got made fun of by the teachers pet?” Soap asked a little surprised.
“He said I was the new class pet.” You say. “Then he wouldn’t stop saying I had to eat carrots and wasn’t allowed to have any of the snacks I brought.”
“You ignore em?”
“Tried, but then he started telling me I shouldn’t be snacking and had to eat ruffage.”
“Wow…” Gaz says. “You could always threaten to gnaw on his pencils.”
“Hows the food?” Soap calls from the front.
“Good. I should stop though.”
“You almost finished?” Soap says checking on you in the rear view.
“Uh…halfway?” You relay after checking the bags contents.
“Keep eating.” Soap says.
Gaz gives Soap a look.
“One meal won’t kill her.” Soap says quietly.
“Thank you for getting me.” You say.
“Hunter would have my head.”
Sadly your bonding time doesn’t go unnoticed and Price calls you all into the office. Your handler is unhappy you didn’t try contacting him first, and you stay quiet. Price chews out Soap and Gaz for B&E and property damage, until they explain what had happened to you. He’s a bit more lenient but not by much.
You, Soap and Gaz have definitely bonded more and at this point you’ve sort of become the team’s pup. Soap and Gaz teach you fight hand to hand, and they’re careful with you at first. You’re younger and smaller but you don’t hold back against them. They show you some maneuvers and Gaz uses his hardened feathers for knife training, going slow and giving you the chance to bat away his strikes. Off time is spent with them, getting a chance to go climbing or hanging out in the rec room. Soap teaches you how to play football, and Rudy and Alejandro join in as well. Soap and Alejandro definitely start showing off their speed and strength to the point you and Rudy find it safer to watch from the sidelines with Gaz. One wrong kick makes all your caution warranted, as you have to shoved Rudy over and the ball takes off part of your antler and is pierced in the process. Hunter gave Soap a very harsh talking to afterwards, and made sure you were okay.
Your handler over time becomes less and less involved with you but maintains your eating routine. He keeps your training high giving you exercises daily, that keep you busy from dusk til dawn. It’s exhausting and Hunter does express some concern to your handler who eventually gives in and increases your food intake some more.
Soap and Gaz have basically taken over your sparring sessions, keeping you trained and ready for anything. You have found a couple weaknesses when you go one on one. If Soap shifts to werewolf, you can get him with belly rubs.
Rudy had started showing you some tracking skills, and even introduced you to his dog spirits. Both spirits are weary of you at first with the red and black growling while the other stayed close to its vessel protectively. After calming them, Alejandro shifts to a panther or jaguar based on the terrain and becomes the target to track. At first he makes it easy but since you don’t hold back on Soap and Gaz he doesn’t hold back on you. You and Rudy both have to try and find him before he finds you, which is a bit of a 50-50. Your own skills as a hybrid are shown to be useful in more wild and natural terrain. In fact you become the one to be target and the two of them actual find some difficulty locating you.
“She couldn’t have gotten that far yet…” Rudy is scratching his head, genuinely dumbfounded. Alejandro shifts back next to him looking at his partner.
“Fast learner.” He says.
“Si.” Rudy sighs before jerking forward, hit in the back from behind. “Agh!”
Alejandro checked Rudy’s jacket and found a stain from a paintball. They both look up and towards where the shot had come from. There they see you behind a tree covered in dirt and mud, trying to hold back the grin on your face. The two men look at you surprised, and even Alejandro is stunned that he couldn’t detect you, while the white and blue cadejo trots over and barks at you, tugging at your clothes with his teeth. The two men look at each other baffled how you got 15 feet away from them without either noticing. Alejandro waves you over to them.
“Fall in corporal, back to base.” He calls over and you get up from your hiding spot. Your legs were dirty and…wet? The ground was damp but you were almost soaked.
“You take a bath Mija?” Alejandro asks crossing his arms.
“No sir.” You answer, shaking your head.
“You’re wet though.” Rudolfo comments, noticing the state of your pants as well.
“Yes sir.” You reply. Alejandro gives a half grin.
“Why are you wet corporal?” He asks.
“The river sir.” You answer. They hadn’t told you about the river nearby, not to mention it was a few clicks further than they had expected you to reach. You take note of their expression and shift slightly in place. “Should I not have…?”
“Por el contrario, you did very well Mija.” Rudolfo says.
“Very good.” Alejandro comments. “You cold?” He asks. You shake your head. There was a chill but it didn’t bother you. They take you back to base.
Missions go fairly well though you are often knocked down. It can be hard when you’re up against many other hybrid creatures. Ghost comes to your aid before any fatal blows can be made, consuming enemies in his shadows when he wasn’t slipping out of them to slit enemy throats. The lieutenant didn’t agree with bringing someone as young as you on missions, and hated that he was playing babysitter half the time. Ghost can sense something off about you though. Maybe it’s your smiling, or your friendliness, of this odd presence that seems to surround you like an aura. Either way, you show yourself to be a fast learner and strong soldier. Your main focus is to incapacitate enemies, even though you’ve been taught where vitals are and how to use a gun and a knife quickly.
“Would make life easier to kill… that’s what soldiers do.” He comments. You look out at the men he’s fed on. You’re quiet thinking for a moment before responding.
“If I killed all of them though…you wouldn’t get to eat as much.” You say with a cheeky smile. His expression doesn’t change.
“Don’t worry too much. Focus on your safety first.”
“Yes sir.” You say losing the smile. He’s not wrong. After that you ask Ghost for help with laying killing strikes. Not in the field but in training. He agrees mainly because you’ve shown promise and a willingness to improve yourself. Knife training with him is rough usually leading to you getting winded and on your back.
The hands on learning is honestly better than anything else though and your exercise routines just become a warm up. You look forward to everything and take everything seriously, asking questions and showing interest in what is presented to you. Weapons training is a bit daunting, as the guns are a bit heavy, but you find your skills work good with unconventional weapons. A slingshot proves strong with you, and even crossbows. Price helps you with improving your poor aim and there are times where you will spend almost an entire night just trying to hit the targets set in front of you.
Your handler is an afterthought except when you get invited to eat with them. He’s right there ready to tell you you can’t eat with them and your food is in your room. You excuse yourself and eat alone again. However on the nights he’s away you do take the opportunity to sit with them, and just bring your food out of your room. The amount while bigger is still small for a soldier, even for a teenager. Most of them assume it’s an insecurity for you so they don’t pressure you to eat more, or comment on it. Soap offers some of his snacks still.
Hunter is instructed when the handler goes on leave to give you meals he has premade for you. They have half a mind to toss them and get you to eat with everyone else, however much you wanted, but they leave the opaque container in your room as instructed.
You don’t eat any of it though. You recognize the smell and are both disturbed and distraught. No. Not that. Memories come flooding back, ones you wanted to stay buried. It takes everything not to break down, and your stomach is churning and begging for sustenance.
Do you tell someone? Would anyone believe you? Should you eat it? No of course not! But you’re so hungry and your mouth is watering. The scent makes your stomach do hard and painful flips, as if there was a grinding wheel whipping around in your belly. You try to look for snacks that you may have hung on to from Hunter but find nothing. The hunger starts to consume your thoughts faster than you’ve consumed anything. Your body starts to alter, you teeth grow sharper, your sense of smell grows stronger and you cling to yourself.
Hungry hungry hungry…starved…
You act fast and get your pillow case, tying it in your mouth, before getting your hoodie on and bolting. You’re fairly agile in your human form and your desire for sustenance drives you forward. Meat is everywhere but you don’t want it. You don’t want to want it. Any soldiers you pass, you keep your head down, and rush past them. You don’t even look up for your teammates calling for you, and instead bolt faster. You finally get outside and sprint for the woods with soldiers calling after you, and trying to stop you to figure out what’s going on. It isn’t long before your body shifts and contorts and you smell meat nearby.
Eat…eat…
Your sudden leave doesn’t go unnoticed. At first, your team saw you and thought you had to hurry somewhere or didn’t see them. Then Alejandro and Soap passed your door while talking.
“Hunter really told you no more football?” Alejandro asks.
“Won’t stop me from playan, but they did warn mae ‘bou-“ Soap and Alejandro both freeze in place smelling the food in your room, the door shut. What the fuck? They look at each other disturbed and in shock. Soap opens the door and his eyes widen in shock seeing what was inside the container.
“Steamin bloody Jesus.” He says while covering his nose and mouth with an arm. Flies buzzed around the human organs you were served in the container.
“The hell kind of diet is this, Mija?” Alejandro says under his breath. Soap puts the lid back on and takes it to Hunter. No way they would do this, but they likely knew who did.
“OI! Hunter!” Soap yells.
“Soap! Gods, please knock next ti-“
“The bloody hell is this!?” He demands holding up the container. Hunter is confused.
“The corporal’s meal? Why do you ha-“
Without wasting anymore time he sets it down and opens the lid enough for them to see. Hunter stands up from their desk quickly, and in shock.
“Soap the fuck is wrong wi-“ Hunter starts.
“The fuck kind of meal is this!” Alejandro barks.
“What?!” Hunter is just as confused.
“This is the corporal’s meal.” Alejandro clarifies.
Hunter is just as disturbed as they are and goes into the storage where the rest of your meals were being kept for the time of his leave. They found more organs and human remains. Hunter wasn’t sure whether to be pissed, disgusted or distraught.
“What the bloody… I’m taking this to Price immediately this is beyond fucked. Where’s the corporal right now?” Hunter demands to know. Soap recalls seeing you running down the hall.
“She’s run off.” Soap concludes. Hunter takes a moment to breath and calm themselves, somewhat relieved.
“She could be anywhere by now.” Alejandro adds recalling your tracking lessons.
Hunter heads for the door and the two hybrids follow as they go to the captain’s office. He looks up from some papers before standing, seeing the door open.
“The corporal is MIA.” Hunter states. Price is confused until they explain what was in the food. Price is angry, ready to roast the retainer upon his return but you are more important along with any bystanders. A search is put out and human soldiers are instructed to stay on base while Task Force 141 along with Rudy and Alejandro track you down. Price knew there was too much of a risk for regular humans to be close to you in this state.
The cadejos catch your scent and lead the search with Rudy keeping a watchful eye for any movement. Alejandro and Soap follow the scent and cadejos with Hunter riding Soap’s back to assist them. Gaz had taken to the sky trying to find you from above and cover more ground. The scent is how they follow you but they know you’re in the area by the sounds of screeches and unearthly clicking. Price hasn’t heard noises like that in a very long time. Ghost advises caution to everyone while he moves through the shadows and senses death all around them. He soon finds it as well.
At first a couple of bisected birds and bitten voles were traces. The deeper they went the bigger the animals. Soon it was small boars that had their meat stripped. There were a few large birds that had managed to escape but were bleeding. A few foxes were limping and cowering in their dens. When the team finally found you they kept their distance with Ghost being the closest to you, discovering why he had felt uneasy around you.
You were gorging yourself on the carcass of a large elk, and stuffing handfuls of blood and raw meat into your mouth savouring every bite. Dark crimson caked your mouth and hands as you continued eating, getting into your hair every time you decided to literally stuff your face. Your boney limbs and sharp fingers clawed pieces and your jagged sharp teeth tore into thicker, tougher parts. Gaz lands in one of the tall trees while Alejandro circles around slowly and quietly planning to flank you if you tried to bolt, his oanthef form slinking around in the underbrush keeping distant and cautious. Soap proceeds closer, slowly. He has Hunter on his back and at the moment was a muscled riot shield for them. You continued feeding ignoring them all, when Soap noticed the screeching had stopped and heard your muffled whimpers and sobs mixed in with the sounds of your eating.
He moves closer and closer, letting Hunter walk next to him.
You stop eating to wipe your mouth fruitlessly. That’s when you notice the large wolf standing before you, staring at you with eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. In the moonlight he could see your tears, lightly cutting through the blood and grime on your face. Your eyes were pure white, and almost void of life. Hunter came up next to him, and you start to scramble back, worried you might go for them.
“Hey hey, no it’s okay. You’re okay…” they reach into their med bag and took out a chocolate bar, tearing off the wrapper for you and offering it. It was like an animal trainer trying to get their charge to trust them. You slowly crawl over, eyes blank and white, but docile.
“Let’s make it a bit smaller.” They mutter. Hunger breaks a piece and you back away again, crawling on all fours. Hunter leans in a bit, offering the smaller piece to you. You take it gingerly and bite down on the candy. When the human medic offers the rest, you dig into it, eating it like nothing had gone wrong. Like you hadn’t run off, shifted and started gorging on the elk carcass right next to you. The area was quiet while your team watched as you continued eating. The snack was so good, so much better than the carcass.
It had happened again. You lost control again. You were a monster and you killed so many innocent animals. Tears continued to fall as the regret set in. When you smell human meat and you’re hungry, it can set you off, making your only thoughts to be “eat”. Animals weren’t as effective hence the number you had taken out. Human food, like the candy, was a middle ground. It would take some time to bring you back to your human state, and taking less to do so.
When you finally spoke, all you could croak out was a small and raspy, “sorry”.
Hunter offers you some more food, proper food, and you eat it slowly, trying not to make yourself sick. First it was the chocolate bar, and then some crackers, an apple, some water, a few carrots. Your beastly features begin to dull, and you feel yourself growing tired. Hunter moves closer with every bite and holds you close while you cry into them, and continue eating the food they give you. Soap curls himself around you preventing escape and trying to comfort you and protect Hunter. Neither of them worries about the blood, they had worse before. Soon you tucker yourself out and Hunter picks you up, and gets back on Soaps back.
“Price, target found and incapacitated. Returning to base.” Ghost said over comms.
“Copy Lt.” Price responded through a long sigh of smoke.
When you woke up you had food next to you on the bed, and Soap asleep in a chair. He wakes up to see you eating the food left for you, and smiles.
“Mornin’ Corporal.” He says.
“I’m sorry.” You say.
“Don’t. You didna do anythin wrong.” He said. He ruffles your hair which you realize had been cut off rather awkwardly. Apparently the blood was too thick to wash, and cutting it was the safer option. You didn’t mind.
For the rest of your handlers leave, your eating becomes top priority. If you try to skip meals, you’re hauled to the mess hall, or get a protein bar in your hand. You get firm reminders that your actions that night are not your fault. Hunter is ensuring you get your meals at regular times, and that you’re staying healthy in your eating habits. They’ve also taken to checking your weight, and body, which regains some pounds. Meanwhile paperwork is being shifted around and sorted and handed and signed making a report about what happened and the illegal obtainment of human organs and their distribution. Laswell is more than pissed and ensures your handler is kept off base for longer than he had intended to be.
A couple months go by of you recovering and getting into a healthier routine. You mention to your team that your form is much different and (you later learn) the one they had seen happens when you get hungry and are unable to eat. With this comes the chance to show off your monsterous form, which leaves them with surprised looks and a bit of shock. Your human form grows and your head is replaced by a deer skull, while your limbs shed skin and are replaced with natural wood, and your rib cage and a few other pieces are beared for them to see. Like Soap your clothes do get torn up, but you prepared with a blanket nearby.
You look down at them, and step back a little while they stare. Price smiles seeing what you are meant to look like, the full spirit creature. Price approaches you first and you go lower for him to meet your eyes. A hand is place on your skull and tilt your head.
“Welcome to the 141.” He says smiling. Soap steps up and shifts to his wolf form. You get down on all fours for him and he gives a soft headbutt against your shoulder which you return.
“Stuck with us now Corporal.” He barks.
Soap helps you feel more comfortable with your form, and helps you learn to move in it as well, alongside Alejandro. You find that while you’re bipedal, running on all fours does have some speed to it. You’re even more of a natural climber, able to launch yourself off large tree trunks and latch on to the next one, making any large enough forest a parkour playground. The cadejos are weary still but Rudolfo continues working with you on tracking. Alejandro is often busy having to assist the captain with paperwork. Gaz starts helping you instead, making your hiding even more fun, since he has the best sight out of everyone. Now you’re the target even more for them to find, which they assume won’t be hard with your immense size but your terrain becomes a part of you, and you it letting you hide almost in plain sight.
Ghost assists you in ways you weren’t expecting, as he helps you feel more comfortable with death. Now your sparring and take down sessions often come with a small talk. Taking a life isn’t easy, and given your story, he wants you to know you’re defending yourself and others. It’s not uncommon for you to get a bit carried away on missions now, as you’re able to charge with Soap into a fray. Your larger size makes it easy for you to forget your surroundings. It leads to more casualties than knock outs. Price even tells you what he knows about wendigos and works on getting as much information from you about the handler as he can. Price lets you use him as a target now for shooting range, given how much better your aim has gotten.
Your team becomes your family as older siblings, uncles and sometimes even dads. They pass on everything they can to you. At this point they’ve come to see you as the pup in their pack, the one they raise into a fighter and protector for the future.
Visual reference for wendigo form
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cordeliawhohung · 25 days
Text
pet!au | part 3 | ghoap x fem!reader (though very heavily just johnny in this one)
johnny's been waiting for this all night
cw: non-con, dark content, groping, thigh-fucking, threats of harm, drugging
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Something tethered you to the earth when you woke up.
Not by rope or chain, but by weight. Every part of you was heavy. Lethargic limbs, weighed down eyelids that couldn’t quite flutter open, a diaphragm that refused to pull in enough air for you to breathe. Even your tongue turned into lead in your mouth as you stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. 
A quiet TV droned on somewhere close by, but its sound was so faded it was impossible to tell if it was the morning news or some late night football rerun. No, it had to be morning, you were certain of it. Or, at least daytime. Gentle beams of sun danced on the decaying walls just out of focus, which would have paired nicely with the scent of cooked meat that wafted into the room had your stomach not twisted at the smell. 
The effects of dehydration in your body was agonizing. Cotton-like dryness accompanied the heavy tongue in your mouth, and your skin felt like it contracted in on itself. Hazy memories attempted to surface in your thoughts, but they were disconnected. Incomplete. You could recall the sweat on your skin at work and the taste of fizzy soda on your tongue, but that was it. All you were left with in that moment was an overwhelming sense of warmth and a panicked frustration. 
You needed to get up. You needed to do something. Yet when you tried to move your legs, nothing happened. Muscles tensed and strained, but a greater weight held them down. Your neck cried out as you lifted your head up — were you laying on a bed? It felt too soft to be anything else — and you only managed to lift it enough to catch a simple glance at the figure on top of you before your head collided with the mattress underneath you. 
A man rested his head on your stomach as if you were a pillow and not a human. Every muscle in your body went stiff with fear as your brain processed that realization. There was a glimpse of dark hair shaved into an overgrown mohawk accompanied by thick arms that wrapped around your hips, keeping your body close to his. It was then that you realized you were stuck in a cage with some sort of beast. No god in the depths of the universe could heed your silent prayer to be unnoticed by him. Your blood had already begun to sing in fear, and that was something a dog like Johnny never failed to notice. 
His head perked up off of your stomach where he caught sight of your conscious state, and a grin bloomed on his lips as he rose above you. Everything felt lighter without his weight holding you down, but that did not mean you were any less trapped. The ocean blue of his gaze paralyzed you into submission as his arms caged your body on either side. 
“Mornin’ Bonnie,” he greeted in a near purr. 
Fear muddled with confusion settled deep in the confines of your stomach where it bubbled and festered. Its taste was soured when coupled with the queasiness that overwhelmed your senses, and you found it difficult to even muster an answer. He looked at you with such adoration in his eyes that it was almost as if the two of you had known each other forever, but you couldn’t recall a single memory of him in your life. The scars on his chin, the slight stubble along his jaw, the collar around his throat; all of it was unrecognizable to you. 
The man chuckled something sweet and bone chilling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You felt your body tense and recoil, yet it wasn’t enough to deter him. His inhale of your scent was overly obvious as he bumped his nose against the underside of your jaw like a dog. 
“Still tired? You’ve been sleepin’ all night. Waited all morning for you to wake up,” he said in a near whine. 
Your legs finally moved, but that was not your own doing. The man’s knees slid between yours where he used his thighs to part them. Wide hips sunk down against yours where you could feel him grind up against you through your pants, something that he performed without any embarrassment. The garbled whimper that erupted from your throat as your body wiggled in protest sounded just as pathetic as you felt. 
“Could help ya wake up, if you want, Bonnie. Been dying to get a taste of you all day,” he whispered, voice low and even up against your ear. 
Why wouldn’t your body listen to you? Why couldn’t you fight, kick, and scream? All you had been reduced to was a husk, some empty shell for this strange, delusional man to play with. Your teeth ached to sink into the side of his neck as one of his hands began to wander under your shirt. Fabric bunched up around your waist as he shamelessly pawed at your tits like a ravenous beast. It was only then that you realized your bra had vanished, but that was the least of your concerns. He reveled in the feeling of you with another chuckle while his teeth nipped at the soft flesh along your shoulder. 
His movements ceased when heavy footsteps sounded outside of the door. He did not seem at all bashful for what he did to you, and that smile still remained on his face as he pulled away from your neck to sit back on his haunches, still nestled between your thighs. His unrelenting gaze finally broke away from you to look at the doorway, and your eyes had no choice but to follow his lead. 
The figure that emerged from the shadows of the hallway made you want to tuck tail and run as fast as you could. You thought about it so hard you could almost taste it, yet with your body in whatever state you had woken up to, you were nothing but a pathetic worm baking under the searing heat of his gaze. His tight jaw and pursed lips spelled nothing but disdain, and you swallowed hard. This man didn’t look human. You were certain no other human could look at someone as if they were so far beneath them, yet this stranger had somehow done it. To him, you were nothing but filth. Nothing at all. 
“Eager, aren’t ya?” the looming figure asked as he pressed further into the room. 
“She just woke up,” the man above you beamed. “Come on, I’ve been patient all night. You’ll let me have her, won’t you?” 
“Down, Johnny.” 
Silence fell over the room as the man stepped closer and closer to the bed, and you could feel your body shake underneath his gaze. There was nothing kind or playful about his aura as he knelt on the floor next to the bed. Even when he was on his knees he was still plenty taller than the bed, giving him ample room to reach a hand out for your jaw. His cruel grip drew a squeaky wince from your parched throat as he forced your head to the side to fully face him. Dark eyes watched with careful attention as your pupils dilated. Fear was one hell of a drug, but it was nothing compared to the roofies that still tainted your blood. 
“She’s awake, but still out of it,” the man said as he let go of your jaw. 
“But can I have her? Please, Simon, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Johnny asked as the man stood to his feet. 
Relief flooded through you when that man — Simon? — finally looked away from you, only for your stomach to drop when his fingers looped through Johnny’s collar. In order to prevent himself from falling when Simon tugged at it, Johnny’s hands came up to rest on his chest, but he didn’t seem nearly as terrified as you felt he should have been.
“What did I say? Not ‘til I say so. Fuck ‘er now, she might get pregnant. Would hate to get rid of ‘er ‘cause of that. You don’t want that, do you Johnny?” Simon asked.
Johnny shook his head and Simon’s grip on his collar loosened, but didn’t fully go slack. There was something in that terrible man’s gaze that softened in a way you didn’t expect. Maybe it was the twitch of his scarred lips, or the relaxation of his brows, but he almost seemed to actually care. About Johnny, anyway. His eyes were as cold as stone the moment they landed on you again. 
“I’ll be back tonight. Make sure she gets some water,” Simon continued as he dug into the pocket of his jumper. 
“‘Course,” Johnny replied. 
Black fabric hung limply around Simon’s fingers as he worked it over his face until you saw nothing but his eyes. Those eyes. Unkind and bitter, just like they were the night before. 
“Remember, play nice,” he added.
It all came crashing down around you as he left the room and Johnny’s attention fell back on you. Fuzzy remnants of memories of your night at work with that large monster haunting the corner in the back. You remember noting how he didn’t take a single sip of his drink the entire night, ever removed that stupid fucking mask. It was him. 
That son of a bitch. 
That realization sparked something in you. Something foul. Something that wanted blood. It demanded that you sink your claws into him, wet your maw with his blood until your mind was blank. But you were in no such state for vengeance. Your body tried in its pitiful way as your elbows dug into the mattress in an attempt to sit yourself upright, but that only made the world spin something fierce, and a sob nearly escaped you as your torso fell back onto the bed. 
“What’s the matter, Bonnie?” Johnny asked as he rested his hands on either side of your waist. 
“That man… that man kidnapped me,” you said. You wanted to scream those words out, to convey your desperation, but your tongue wouldn’t move properly and every thought took nearly all your energy just to form. 
“Oh, Simon?” Johnny questioned with a grin. He always smiled. Always seemed happy. Too happy. “Silly lass, he saved you just like he saved me.”
Saved you? It was crazy enough for you to almost laugh at it.
“No, no you don’t understand, I’m not supposed to be here,” you retorted. 
Your words fell on deaf ears. Johnny’s mind was too shrouded with lust and desire to make any sense of what you begged for him to understand. The hands that rested on either side of your waist instead moved to the waistband of your pants where his fingers gently slid underneath the fabric. He gave it a swift tug, and you found your legs attempting to close in protest only to be blocked by his hips. 
“What’re you so worked up for, Bonnie? Of course you’re supposed to be here,” he said in an attempt to convince you. 
Even with your fuzzy brain, you knew that wasn’t the case. No, you should have been home in your shitty apartment underneath the covers on your bed trying to sleep off a long night’s work. Not there in some stranger's home. Not there with a man between your legs who began to tear your pants down your thighs like an animal. And perhaps he was, in some twisted way, an animal. He looked like a man, spoke like a man, yet he had that collar around his neck as if it was a warning. You should have known this was coming the very moment you woke up to find his teeth bared at you. 
Everything spun as Johnny flipped your legs to your left, and your torso had no choice but to follow, turning you on your side. With your stomach full of nothing but the remainder of your drink and Simon’s tampering from the previous night, you swore you nearly threw up right there on the bed. Your eyes screwed tight as Johnny’s fingers slipped your panties past the swell of your hips. He hadn’t even bothered to fully take your clothes off; just moved them down far enough until your ass and cunt were exposed to him. 
“Please, stop,” you pleaded, voice hardly carrying over the sound of your heart jumping in your chest. 
In some sort of pathetic attempt to save what was left of your dignity, your hands blindly sought after your pants, but Johnny pushed them to the side as he unzipped his own pants. White hot fear raged in your chest as you dared at glance over your shoulder. You would have thought Johnny’s eyes were beautiful if you weren’t filled with terror at the glint just beyond their blue hue. That feeling only got worse as you caught sight of the way he fisted his cock. 
“N-No, you can’t,” you tried to plead further. “Please, I’m not- he said not to, remember? We shouldn’t, he’ll get mad, please.” 
It was the only thing your mind could think of that might convince him. To bring up what the other man had said earlier. Would hate to get rid of her. Simon’s words had seared your brain, and you knew you didn’t want to find out what he meant by getting rid of you. Johnny’s infatuation with you seemed to know no bounds, and though it felt disgusting trying to play into their game, it was the only hand you were able to hold in your state. 
“Just the tip, please Bonnie,” Johnny insisted. The head of his cock pushed against your tight cunt and your body recoiled at the sensation. There was no slick to be found within your folds, the only lubrication came from Johnny’s leaking tip. “That’s it, that’s all I want. I need it.” 
The breath for your response didn’t even have the chance to pass through your lips before he pushed into you. Your thoughts cut off with a simple yelp at the sting and stretch of him while he bullied into you. With the dehydration that ravaged your body, there was nothing to soothe the ache as he forced your cunt to swallow him. You weren’t sure how much of himself he made you take, but you knew if he went any further he’d ruin you. 
“Christ, Bonnie. Fuck, I knew it. Knew from the moment I saw those pictures of you that you were the one,” Johnny rambled as he shallowly thrusted into you, keeping his promise of only giving you the tip of him. “Been waitin’ for this for so long…” 
After a few more pathetic thrusts, Johnny pulled out of you. It was sudden, but the reprieve was almost enough to make you sob. Perhaps animals were capable of telling the truth after all; of grinning with razor sharp fangs and only taking what they promised they would. 
Much to your dismay, Johnny’s hips slammed against you once more, and you cried out. But there was no stretch. No deep ache where your body was supposed to be forced apart to make room for him. Instead of nestling his cock into your cunt — like you knew he wished he could — he slid it between the plush flesh of your thighs with a near growl. You could feel the warmth of it, the way it throbbed with a vicious yearning to rip you to shreds, and it didn’t take him long to start pumping himself in and out between your legs. 
“I promise, Bonnie. I’ll fuck you properly when Simon says I can. Just been waitin’ so long for you I- I have to have this,” Johnny babbled. His hands pressed down on your thighs, forcing them closer together, making the stimulation all the more intense for him. You watched as his head rolled back, exposed neck straining against the leather collar he was bound by where the word Soap glinted on the silver tag; like a proper dog. “A real angel. I told him you were. Thank you. Thank you.” 
You didn’t bother to entertain his insane mumbling with a response, but he didn’t seem to care. Each drag along your heating skin only seemed to melt his mind into a further mess, and all you could do was lay there and take it as he fucked your thighs. It would be over eventually, you told yourself. It had to be. 
Lucky. That word popped into your mind with relentless force, ruining your attempt at ignoring the situation. Lucky. It was a miracle he hadn’t gone any further, hadn’t ravaged your cunt until you were raw and broken. But you did not feel blessed when the bile in your stomach roiled in protest at every thrust. It did not seem auspicious that your head pounded with each violent shake of your body as if your mind tried to self-destruct to save you from the agony of survival. You were anything but fortunate. 
Johnny’s hips pressed flush against the crux of your thighs, and you felt his cock pulse between your legs. His sticky spend shot out and clung to the inside of your thighs as he came, head falling forward against your shoulder until he had fully caged your body with his again. His cum seeped out from the top of your thighs where it dripped onto the bed spread below you. Had you been home, you would have worried about stains. But you weren’t. No matter whatever twisted future Johnny and Simon had planned for you, that would never be home. 
Not bothering to zip his pants back up, Johnny collapsed onto the bed next to you. With you already on your side, it was the perfect position for him to slot his chest right against your back where he wrapped a firm arm around your center. His skin felt warm and disgusting against yours, and if you weren’t so spent you would have attempted to scurry off to clean up the mess he made of you. But there wasn’t much you could do as he nuzzled his nose against the nape of your neck and exhaled a deep sigh. 
“Please,” you pleaded, voice raw, “let me go home.” 
“But you are home,” Johnny chuckled. “Finally home.” 
Home. In the arms of a man with his cum between your thighs. Yes, that’s what he wanted. Johnny would ruin you every night if that’s what it took to get you to see that you really had been saved.
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