#ghoulie!reader

The neon lights of the Southside buzzed like they always did, flickering, humming, and barely holding on. It matched the tension in the air. I leaned against the wall inside the House of the Dead, arms crossed, eyes sharp as I watched everything unfold. Leather vest, Ghoulie spikes stitched onto the shoulders, hair pulled back, and my expression unreadable. To anyone else in the room, I was just another Ghoulie. But I wasn’t. I was Sweet Pea’s older sister. 

Across the room, Malachai sat like he owned the place, which, realistically, he did. His feet were kicked up, that dangerous smirk on his lips, eyes glinting with amusement as Jughead Jones stood in front of him, trying to look fearless. 

“Let me get this straight.” Mal drawled, tilting his head slightly. “The Serpent Prince walks into my house and thinks he can make demands?” 

I exhaled slowly, pushing off the wall just enough to step closer, not interrupting, just… present. Always close enough to Mal to be noticed, to be his… because I was. 

Jughead didn’t break down. “It’s not a demand. It’s a challenge.” 

Malachai laughed, low and mocking. “That’s cute.” 

Archie stood beside Jughead, fists clenched like he was already ready to throw down. Typical Northie… My eyes flicked to him briefly before returning to Mal. I could feel the tension rising, could practically taste it. 

“If we win,” Jughead continued, voice steady. “the Ghoulies stop dealing at Southside High. You stand down.” 

Malachai’s smirk faded just slightly, replaced with something colder. More dangerous. 

“And if we win?” He asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. 

Jughead didn’t hesitate. “The Serpents fold.” 

A ripple went through the room, Ghoulies murmuring… watching. My jaw tightened slightly, but I didn’t move. 

Mal leaned back again, unimpressed. “So let me get this straight, you want me to risk my territory, my business…” He gestured lazily around the room. “For what? Pride?” 

He scoffed. “Hard pass, Sperent Prince.” 

I stepped forward then, just a little, voice low but firm. “Mal-” 

His eyes flicked to me instantly. Not annoyed, but interested. I met his gaze, subtle but grounding. 

“Hear him out.” It wasn’t defiance or disagreement. It was control, something Malachai respected. He exhaled through his nose, leaning his head back slightly. 

“You’ve got about ten seconds before I get bored.” 

Jughead opened his mouth to respond, but the door slammed open. Everyone turned. Two girls were shoved inside. Betty Cooper and Veronica Lodge… I stiffened. Archie’s voice came out instantly. 

“Veronica?” 

“Bett?” Jughead stepped forward. 

“Wait, these are your bitches?” Mal asked. 

I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t interrupt. This was Malachai’s show, and I knew better than to undercut him in front of his crew. 

“Let them go.” Archie snapped. 

Mal stood up, slow and deliberate. The room went quiet. 

“Nah, I think I’m done here.” He said simply. 

He waved a hand dismissively. “Get them out.” 

Jughead spoke quickly. “The Whyte Wyrm.” That got everyone’s attention, even mine. 

Mal’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You’re offering me your bar?” 

Jughead nodded. “If we lose.” 

Malachai’s grin came back full force now, dangerous and interested. This? This was something. But it was clear he wasn’t done. 

“Oh, we’re not stopping there.” He said, eyes gleaming. “I want Sunnyside Trailer Park, too.” 

The room went dead silent. My stomach twisted. That wasn’t just territory, that was home. My home. Pea’s home. Fangs’, Toni’s, hell, Jughead’s! But I didn’t react, not outwardly, because I chose this side. His side. Jughead hesitated, but only for a second. 

“Deal…” 

Archie looked at him like he was insane. Betty and Veronica exchanged worried glances. My chest tightened slightly, but I kept my expression neutral. 

Mal clapped his hands once, satisfied. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” 

He turned slightly, brushing his fingers against my wrist, a subtle, possessive touch. 

“You were right, babe, this might actually be fun.” I looked at him, something conflicted flickering behind my eyes. 

“Just don’t lose.” I said quietly. 

His smirk sharpened. “I don’t.” 

*Jughead’s POV*

I didn’t norice her at first, not really. There were too many moving pieces, the Ghoulies circling like vultures, Malachai lounging like a king on a throne made of chaos, Archie practically vibrating beside me, ready to swing at the first wrong word. I was focused on the deal, on the stakes, on keeping my voice steady even when everything in that room was designed to shake me. But then… I saw her. 

“Mal, hear him out.” My eyes flicked toward her without thinking. And for just a second, I forgot what I was saying. Because I knew her… Not the vest, or those stupid spikes, or the hard look in her eyes. No… I knew the girl underneath it. A flash of memory hit me so fast it almost made me dizzy. A younger version of her sitting cross-legged on the floor of my trailer, a much smaller me beside her, trying, and failing, to shuffle a deck of cards. 

“Kid, you’re holding them like you’re afraid they’ll bite you.” She teased, reaching over to fix my grip. 

“Relax.” 

“I am relaxed.” I muttered. 

She laughed, soft and easy. Nothing like the sharp edge in her voice now. 

“Sure you are.” 

She used to babysit me. Back when Dad was… different. Back when things hadn’t fallen apart yet. Back when Serpents actually felt like something close to a family. I blinked, dragged back to the present. To the House of the Dead, to her standing beside Malachai like she belonged there, like she’s always been there. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. But I didn’t say anything. Not when Malachai mocked us, or when Betty and Veronica were dragged in, or even when she stepped forward again, steady and controlled, and Malachai actually listened to her. I just watched, trying to pieve it together. But it didn’t make sense. 

When race day finally came around the air was thick with anticipation. Engines revved, tires screeched, and Southsiders, and some Northsiders, crowded the street like it was some kind of ritual. I stood near the Serpents, leather jacket heavy on my shoulders, eyes scanning the scene. Sweet Pea was a few feet away, jaw tight, arms crossed. Fangs leaned against his bike, quieter than usual. Toni stood between them, but even she looked tense. I followed their line of sight and found her. Y/N.

She stood on the other side with the Ghoulies. Her chin was tilted up slightly, like she had something to prove. Malachai was beside her, of course. His arm was around her, his hand brushing her lower back like it belonged there. I noticed the way Sweet Pea’s expression darkened instantly. That told me everything I needed to know, or at least part of it. I stepped closer to him. 

“That’s your sister.” I said quietly, not taking my eyes off her. 

Pea didn’t respond right away, didn’t even look at me. 

“Yeah.” He muttered finally. 

There was no warmth in it, or pride, just tension. 

I frowned slightly. “She’s a Ghoulie?” 

That got a reaction. Fangs let out a short, humorless laugh. Toni shook her head a little, like she didn’t fully believe it either. Sweet Pea’s voice came out sharper this time. 

“Yeah. She made her choice.” 

I glanced at him. “It can’t be that simple.” 

Sweet Pea finally looked at me, eyes flashing. “It is.” 

But it didn’t sound convincing, not even to him. I looked back at Y/N, she was laughing with the Ghoulies. But she didn’t look fully into it. It was like she didn’t fully belong on either side. Then her eyes flicked over, for a split second they met mine. Recognition sparked, faint, but there. Then it was gone. I felt something twist in my chest. 

“Let’s get this started!” Malachai’s voice cut through the noise, loud and commanding. Everyone turned, I forced my focus back to the race. Y/N stepped closer to Malachai as he spoke, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, scanning everything. I watched her carefully. The way she leaned in slightly when Malachai talked, the way she didn’t flinch when he touched her, the way she stayed on his side. Whatever history she had with the Serpents, it wasn’t enough to pull her back. That didn’t sit right with him. Because I remember her… 

I was younger, sitting on a beat-up couch, watching Y/N argue with someone, one of the older Serpents. 

“You don’t get to decide who I am!” She snapped. 

The guy laughed it off and told her to ‘know her place’. I didn’t understand it then, but now? Now it made sense. The Serpents talked about family, loyalty, but they didn’t always live up to it. Maybe she had been one of the ones they failed. 

Engines roared louder, Archie and I got into position. Malachai moved toward his car, confidence radiating off him like heat. Y/N caught his arm before he could walk away. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I saw it. The way her expression softened, just slightly. The way Malachai actually paused to listen. Then he smirked, said something back that made her roll her eyes, but she didn’t let go of his arm right away. He kissed her before leaving her. 

“You keep staring at her like that, she’s gonna notice.” Sweet Pea muttered beside me. 

I didn’t look away. “She already did.” 

Sweet Pea scoffed quietly. “Yeah, well… don’t expect her to come running back.” 

“I don’t.” I said. 

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. “Just don’t lose the damn race, Jones.” 

“You know, Mal, I’m always up for some adrenaline, but I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you protested, throwing your head back in exasperation. 

Malachai let out a deep chuckle before ruffling your hair. “Believe me, it’s a genius idea,” he assured you, reaching inside the pocket of his jeans to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

You looked out of the window, sinking further into the seat when a few students passed by the cherry red car, unaware of the gang members occupying it. Malachai’s brown eyes trailed after the teenagers, uninterested. Unlike him, you watched them with curiosity. The letterman jackets caught your attention; your gaze followed them, trailing down their figures, a smirk crawling up onto your face.

“On the second thought, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun here,” you said, turning your head towards your brother when the teenagers disappeared around the corner.

Malachai shook his head in amusement and partial displease. “Just remember, if you see cops, run as fast as you can. Can’t have you getting in any trouble now, can we?”

You shrugged off your Ghoulie vest, caressing the studs on the shoulder pads, already missing the feel of the cool leather against your skin. You placed it on the backseats of the car with a longing sigh, making Mal cackle.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one touches it while you’re mingling with sexually frustrated teenagers.” He patted your arm, encouraging you to get out of the car, but you didn’t budge. “Y/n, move your ass. I don’t have all day.”

You ignored his comment and started in a whisper, “So… No dealing until you give me the green light? Just making connections and collecting info?”

“We went over it like ten times, dude.” Mal shoved your arm with his elbow, lighting up the cigarette hanging from between his chapped lips. 

“Yeah, but where the fuck is the adrenaline in your plan?” 

Without waiting for his answer, you exited the car and started dragging your boot-clad feet towards your new school. Riverdale High School looked way too normal to fit into your comfort zone. You were used to graffiti-littered walls and smashed-in windows; this was all new to you. God, you haven’t even been in the north side of Riverdale for more than one hour before, and now you were going to attend the local school.

Entering the building, you could feel everyone’s heads turning in your direction. Their eyes raked down your body, noting the all-black attire and arms covered in ink. You didn’t fit there with your oversized Nirvana tee, pants hanging low on your hips, and a choker with a skull pendant clinging to your neck. You were a bigger revelation to the students of Riverdale than the newest member of the Pussycats. And damn, did you love the attention directed your way. With confidence, you crossed the hallway and disappeared into Principal Weatherbee’s office without even knocking.

“The cheek of this guy.” Veronica crossed her arms over her chest, turning to look at Kevin, who had his eyes locked on the door that you vanished behind.

She couldn’t help but grin at his stunned gaze and parted lips. The black-haired girl brought the tips of her fingers under his chin, closing his jaw. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve just fallen in love with a bad boy,” he mumbled out, his lips breaking into a wide smile.

“That sounds very cliché when you say it like that. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Veronica snickered, patting his arm before lowering her voice, “Aren’t you and Joaquin dating?” 

“We’re not exclusive… yet,” he explained, not ready to talk about his budding romance with the Serpent. “Do you think he’s into boys?” Kevin looked at her with eyes full of blind hope, praying to all the gods that existed that you were at least bisexual.

“I wish I knew the answer.” She sighed before continuing, “We can always find out. What do you say?” V raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, challenging her friend to fight her on her already made-up decision.

She had to admit that you sparked her curiosity straight away. Your sexy smirk and the confidence in your steps were difficult to overlook. Maybe if you weren’t into boys, she could snatch you for herself.

When she lived in New York, she dated all kinds of guys, but surprisingly you didn’t remind her of any of them. There was something unique in your person, yet she couldn’t quite place her finger on it.

“It sounds a lot like ‘who’s going to date him first’ bet.” Kevin eyed the brown-eyed girl, biting his bottom lip in thought. 

“Hey, it’s not like we’re doing it only for fun, right? I think it’s pretty harmless.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking around the corridor. “The prize for the winner is the new guy’s heart.” The young Lodge smiled cheekily, excited for their little challenge.

“No winners and no prizes,” he demanded, making his friend roll her brown eyes but nod to assure him that she accepts the new rules. “Alright, I’m in.”

The bell rang, breaking their conversation. Veronica hugged Kevin goodbye before walking away to find the history classroom. The brunet boy stood there for a minute longer, letting other students pass him while his eyes found the door of Mr. Weatherbee’s office again. He was just about to drag his feet towards his next class, but the moment he took a step forward, the door that he stared so intently at was pushed open.

You walked outside with a slightly annoyed expression before catching his gaze, quickly switching your previously displeased frown into a smirk full of confidence. You stepped towards his person, only stopping when you were hovering over the blushing boy, hand firmly planted on the wall beside his head so he could hear you over the other students rushing to their classrooms.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. Do you happen to know where I can find Betty Cooper? She was supposed to show me around the place,” you explained, voice smooth like silk, making Kevin’s knees buckle.

He composed himself as quickly as he could. What if you already caught his red cheeks and the bashful smile that decorated his lips? He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of you, and definitely not on your first meeting.

“Hi, you’re new here, right? Kevin Keller,” the boy introduced himself, extending his hand for you to shake. He hoped his voice didn’t come out shaky or high-pitched; that would be even more embarrassing than his already red face. “Betty finished her classes an hour ago. I don’t think you’ll bump into her today.”

The green-eyed boy let himself relax, back pressed into the cold metal of the lockers behind him. The faint scent of leather mixed with tobacco and fresh apples made his head spin. He would never imagine that this weird combination could be so pleasant and unwinding.

“How about you?”

“What about me?” he blurted out, dumbfounded. He was so lost in his thoughts and your lovely smell that he didn’t register your words.

“Are you busy?” you repeated, noting Kevin’s lax figure and lazy smile.

Did you already win his heart over, or was he just intimidated by your presence and being nice to avoid becoming your enemy? Then you remembered they didn’t know about the Southside blood running through your veins. If you could only keep it a secret for the rest of high school, that’d make your task so much easier. 

You weren’t ashamed of where you lived or your affiliation to the Ghoulies, nor of being Malachai’s brother. You were always proud of who you were. It was the things you had to do that you were self-conscious about; the stealing and drug dealing, all the violence used against innocent people just because they were a part of the rival gang. Your uneasiness about some aspects of your life didn’t mean that you’ll stop being a Ghoulie and doing everything your brother told you to.

“No, not at all. I mean-”

“Mr. Keller, I believe you should be in class right now,” Principal Weatherbee’s voice sounded from behind your form, and you quickly turned around. You hoped you wouldn’t get in trouble before your first day of school really began.

Kevin opened his mouth to say something to defend himself from the scrutiny eyes of the middle-aged man, but he was quickly forced to close it when you put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weatherbee, I asked Kevin to show me around the school when I found out Betty Cooper already finished her classes,” you explained, sending the principal a bashful smile that was clearly fake, but he seemed to buy it.

“I apologize for my mistake,” he started. “Mr. Keller, you’re excused from the rest of your classes, and you’ll show our new student around instead of Miss Cooper.”

Kevin nodded his head with excitement. “With pleasure, Mr. Weatherbee.” He sent a wide smile towards the principal before the latter turned around and disappeared back into his office.

“Well, now you definitely aren’t busy,” you whispered near his ear, your minty breath fawning down his neck and making him shiver in anticipation.

Kevin Keller turned out to be an excellent guide even though most of your attention was directed towards his plump lips, not the words that left them. The boy didn’t seem to notice your lack of interest in the actual building and the different classrooms. Thank god, he spared you and decided not to mention Riverdale High’s history. You didn’t look like a guy who would be interested in knowing the school’s founders and remarkable graduates either. 

And he found out that he was completely right when you pulled him behind the bleachers in the middle of the tour to smoke a cigarette and change the topic to something that wasn’t related to the school district. The Bulldogs were practicing on the field, and Coach Clayton’s instructions echoed in the distance.

“Let’s ditch the rest of the tour,” you proposed, leaning on the metal poles of the construction and putting a cigarette between your lips. Your hand clutched a neon green lighter and lifted it to lit the cancer stick.

“You sure you don’t want to know where the boys’ locker room is?” Kevin chuckled, shoving his palms into the pockets of his jeans before they could get any colder. 

“Watch yourself, Kev. I might take you up on that offer.” You send a cocky wink his way, crossing your arms over your chest. The nickname rolling off your tongue made his knees weak.

The bleachers partially sheltered you both from the chill September breeze, but while you seemed entirely unfazed by the cold, exhaling thick clouds of smoke from your lungs dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, the sheriff’s son shivered in his navy blue sweater. His cheeks were pink; he wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold or your suggestive remark. The fact that he was freezing his ass off just to spend a little more time with you was pretty ridiculous to him.

You eyed him up, finally noticing his chattering teeth and the rosy dust spreading through his face. “Are you cold?” you asked, the question sounding dumber than you expected it to.

“No! I’m wonderful,” Kevin protested quickly, visibly shaking. “I’ve never been better.”

You laughed openly, head leaning on the metal, your hips jutting forward. The green-eyed boy bit his bottom lip, trying to keep his eyes from darting towards the stripe of skin your shirt exposed when it rode up with the gesture. He couldn’t help but smile while you tried to catch your breath.

“No, but for real, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You threw away the cigarette, stomping it out with your boot before walking up to Kevin. Your hands found his arms, and you rubbed them up and down to warm him up a little bit. The boy stepped even closer, the distance between your faces now nonexistent. Dammit, he wanted to kiss you so bad just to see if you were as good at it as he imagined you were. His face inched closer, your noses brushed, and somehow your palm found its way to the back pocket of his jeans. Kevin’s breath hitched, eyes closing and lips parting. 

“Hey, Kev!” Archie’s voice broke them apart, the brunet scrambling away from his newfound crush and turning towards his friend.

“Uh, hi Archie. What are you doing here?” He crossed his arms over his chest. The newcomer jogged up to the two of you.

“I think I should be the one asking.” The ginger-haired boy chuckled.

He was still dressed in his football gear, holding the white helmet under his arm. His brows went up in surprise when he noticed you standing next to his friend. Your face was new to him; in fact, he has never seen you before in Riverdale. 

Kevin had a tight-lipped smile on his face, obviously unhappy with the interruption. He was so close to kissing your pretty lips just minutes ago, so close that he could still feel your minty breath fawning over his lips, making them tingle in anticipation.

You extended your hand towards the ginger with a grin and introduced yourself, “Y/n, I’m new here.”

“That’s why I didn’t recognize you. Archie Andrews.” He shook your hand steadily, making your eyebrow quirk. “I’ve never seen you in Riverdale. Did you move here recently?” came the dreaded question, making you scream internally.

“Yeah, you can say so,” you said, nodding your head before withdrawing your arm from Archie, your pointer finger hooking through one of the belt loops in Kevin’s pants and pulling him closer playfully. “Thanks for the tour, Kev. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You left the two boys in a rush, trying to avoid more questions. You had to think of a lie to make your high school life more believable and find a group you could blend into until Mal gives you the green light. “Find someone who can be easily influenced,” your brother’s words echoed in your head; it was a good idea to begin before anyone started getting suspicious.

@t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @thatcucumberwhore @crimson-candle​ @donttelltheelf-x

“Again.” Malachai growled, his voice a low rumble against the shell of my ear. 

My back was pressed against the cold, corrugated metal wall of the House of the Dead; it was silent except for our ragged breathing. His hands were on my hips, fingers digging into the denim of my cutoff shorts, holding me in place with a force that was as familiar as it was thrilling. 

“Mal…” I gasped, my head falling back with a soft thud against the metal. 

“Someone could-” 

“No one’s here.” He cut me off, his lips dragging a hot, possessive trail down my throat. 

“They know better. They know you’re mine.” 

That word. It shot through me, a bolt of pure, white-hot electricity that made my knees weak. It wasn’t a question. It was a law of the universe, carved into the rust and grease of the Southside. I was his. A Ghoulie’s girl. His Ghoulie girl. 

It had started an hour ago, across a crowded, smoky room at the House of the Dead. A new Ghoulie, all swagger and misplaced confidence, had leaned a little too close to me at the pool table, his hand brushing my lower back as he reached for a chalk cube. Malachai had seen it. The temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees. He hadn’t said a word to the kid, just a slow, cold stare that emptied the space around us in seconds. He took my hand, his grip iron-tight, and led me up to his office. Now, there was only this. The urgent, angry need radiating off him, and the answering fire it lit in my belly. 

With a rough tug, he ripped my tank top down. The night air pebbled my skin, but his mouth on my collarbone, on the lace edge of my bra, burned it all away. 

“You let him touch you.” He muttered, the words muffled against my skin. 

“It was nothing.” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his dark, messy hair, pulling him closer. 

“He barely-” 

“Don’t.” He bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make me gasp, a sharp, sweet pain. 

“I saw his eyes on you. Thinking he could have what’s mine.” His hands went to the button of my shorts, popping it open, dragging the zipper down with a harsh, metallic sound that seemed deafening in the quiet. He shoved the denim and my panties down my thigh in one rough motion, letting them pool at my boots. 

I was exposed, pinned between him and the wall, the cool metal a shocking contrast to the feverish head of his body leaning into mine. He didn’t move to undress himself fully, just unzipped his jeans, freeing himself. He was already hard, thick, and hot against my lower stomach. He hooked one of my legs over his hips, his hand gripping the back of my thigh, hoisting me up. I wrapped my other leg around him, anchoring myself. There was no preamble, no gentle slide. He pushed into me in one deep, claiming stroke, filling me completely, stretching me in that perfect, familiar ache. 

“Oh, God.” I cried out, the sound swallowed by the music from downstairs. 

He didn’t move for a long moment, his forehead pressed to the wall beside my head, his entire body trembling with the effort of his control. I could feel him, every throbbing inch, buried deep inside me. Then he pulled back, almost all the way out, and slammed home against. And again. A punishing, relentless rhythm that had the metal wall shuddering behind me. This wasn’t just sex. It was a reconfirmation. A branding.

“Look at me, Y/N. Look at me.” 

The command was a low growl, vibrating through the humid air of the Ghoulie hangout. Malachai’s hand was a fist in the front of my ripped tank top, holding me pinned against the cool desk. His other hand was already under the frayed denim of my cutoffs, his fingers a demanding pressure against the damp lace of my panties. My breath hitched, a sharp gasp that was half defiance, half pure, unadulterated want. I met his dark eyes, the intensity in them like a physical touch. 

“You don’t own me, Mal.” 

“The hell I don’t!” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his voice dropping to a possessive whisper that sent a shiver straight down my spine. 

“You’re wearing my colors. You’re in my territory. Your heart is beating so fucking fast right now, and it’s for me. You’re mine, Y/N. And you love it.” 

He was right. God, he was always right. The fight had started an hour ago, a stupid argument over some stupid newbie Ghoulie. Malachai had been cold, calculating fury, but it was a fury that burned for me. He dragged me out by the wrist. Now, in his office, there was no more pretense of an argument. It was just this. Him. Me. The raw, hungry truth between us. His mouth crashed down on mine, not a kiss but a claiming. It was all teeth and tongue and a dominance that made my knees weak. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer. He tasted like cheap beer and danger, and it was my favorite flavor in the world. 

A gasp escaped me as his mouth left mine to latch onto a peaked nipple, sucking hard, his tongue circling the sensitive bud. The sharp contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air made me arch into him, a moan tearing from my throat. 

“That’s it…” He murmured against my skin, his breath hot. 

“Let me hear you. Let everyone know who you belong to.” 

His fingers pushed between us. He didn’t tease. He never teased. He circled my swollen, slick clit in tight, relentless circles. 

“Fuck, Mal…” 

“Say it.” He demanded. “Say who you belong to.” 

I was panting, my hips rocking against his hand and cock, chasing the exquisite friction.

“You… I’m yours…” 

“Lourder!” 

“I’m yours!” I cried out, the words echoing off the concrete walls. 

He withdrew his fingers and cock, and I whimpered at the loss. But only for a second. In one fluid, brutal motion, he spun me around, bending me over his desk. The cold wood bit into my stomach. I heard the rustle of his jeans, and then the blunt, hot pressure of him at my entrance. He didn’t ask. He never asked. He just took. With a deep, guttural groan, he sheathed himself inside me in one long, devastating thrust. I screamed, my fingers scrambling for purchase of the desk. He was so deep, so impossibly full, stretching me in the most perfect, punishing way. He didn’t want for me to adjust. He set a punishing rhythm immediately, each powerful thrust driving my hips into the unyielding metal. The slap of skin on skin, our ragged breaths, and my own choked sobs of pleasure were the only sounds. 

“See?” He grunted, his body slamming into mine, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises- marks I would wear proudly tomorrow. 

“See how you take me? Every fucking inch. You were made for this. Made for me.” 

He was right. The friction was incendiary. Each drive of his hips rubbed my clit against the desk in just the right way, building a coil of white-hot pleasure so tight inside me I thought I might break. I was completely at his mercy, and the sheer power of that surrender was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. One of his hands snaked around my hips, his fingers finding my clit again, wet from my own arousal and his thrusts. He pressed down, circling in time with his brutal pace. 

“Cum for me, Y/N.” He ordered, his voice ragged with his own need. 

“Cum on my cock and show me who you belong to.” 

It was too much. The dual assault, the filthy words, the absolute possession- it shattered me. A scream was ripped from my lungs as my orgasm detonated, waves of pure, electric pleasure convulsing through me, clamping down around him so tightly I felt him shudder inside me. He fucked me through it, his rhythm faltering only as his own control broke. With a final, deep roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his body going rigid against mine as he spilled into me, his hot release pulsing in time with the last aftershocks of my climax. 

For a long moment, there was only the sound of our heavy, shared breathing in the quiet office. He stayed inside me, his weight a comforting, possessive anchor. Slowly, he leaned over me, his lips brushing the sweaty nape of my neck. 

“Mine.” He whispered, the word a final, tender seal on everything that had just happened. 

I barely had time to react before the first punch landed. Pain exploded across my jaw, sending me stumbling back against the brick wall of the alley. My vision blurred for a second, and before I could recover, another hit slammed into my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. I collapsed to my knees, coughing, but they weren’t done. Boots and fists rained down on me, sharp pain jolting through every inch of my body. I curled in on myself, arms shielding my head as best as I could, but it didn’t stop the impact. I could hear them laughing, hear them spitting out words like Ghoulie Bitch and this is payback. 

The Serpents. 

I barely understood what was happening at first. One second, I was just walking, minding my business, and the next, they were dragging me into this alley like I was nothing. Like I was just a message they needed to send. The Ghoulies must’ve fucked with them, and I was paying the price. They didn’t care that I wasn’t involved. That I had nothing to do with it. Another kick landed against my stomach, and I let out a strangled gasp, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. The pain was unbearable, but worse than that was the helplessness. There was nothing I could do. Nothing but take it. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they stopped. One of them- tall, built, with a snake tattoo wrapping around his arm- crouched down next to me, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing me to look at him. 

“Tell your boyfriend the Serpents don’t forget.” He sneered before shoving my face away. 

I crumpled to the ground as they walked off, their laughter fading into the distance. My body felt like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces, every nerve screaming in agony. I didn’t even try to move yet- I just laid there, gasping for breath, trying to stay conscious. After a few minutes, I forced myself to roll onto my side, wincing as pain shot through my ribs. My shaking hands fumbled for my phone in my jacket, every movement excruciating. I didn’t even think, I just called him. 

Malachai picked up on the second ring. “Yo, babe, where-” 

“Malachai…” My voice was barely above a whisper, raw and weak. 

There was a pause. Then, his tone sharpened. “Where are you?” 

“Alley… near the tracks.” I managed to get out, blinking against the blood dripping into my eye. 

“They jumped me.” 

“Who?” His voice was tight, and controlled, but I could hear the rage underneath. 

“Serpents…” I whispered. “They-” My breath hitched in pain. 

“They did this because of the Ghoulies.” 

Silence. But I could hear his breathing, deep and slow like he was trying to hold himself back from snapping. 

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.” 

The call ended, and I let the phone slip from my fingers. I shut my eyes, focusing on just breathing, just existing until Malachai got here. It didn’t take long. The sound of fast, heavy footsteps reached me, and then he was there, dropping to his knees beside me. I could barely open my eyes, but when I did, I saw his face. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, his hands were shaking as he took in the bruises, the blood, and the way I was barely holding myself up. 

“Fuck…” He breathed, his fingers ghosting over my face as if he was afraid to touch me too hard. 

“Y/N…”

I tried to smile, but it came out a grimace. “Hey.” 

His eyes darkened, and I knew without a doubt that he was going to make them pay for this. But right now, I needed him. Not revenge, just him. 

“Can you stand?” His voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it, something dangerous simmering beneath the surface. 

I swallowed hard. “I-” I moved slightly, but pain ripped through me, making me let out a choked sound. 

“Shit- okay, okay, don’t move.” He didn’t wait for me to protest before he was scooping me up in his arms like I weighed nothing. I let out a weak noise, resting my head against his shoulder as he held me close. 

“I got you, baby.” He murmured. His grip tightened, protective and unyielding. 

“They’re gonna fucking regret this.” 

I closed my eyes, feeling safe despite everything. Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for sure: Malachai wouldn’t let this slide. And the Serpents had no idea what they had just started. 

Malachai carried me like I was the most important thing in the world. His grip was firm but careful as if he was terrified I’d break apart in his arms. Every step he took sent a jolt of pain through my battered body, but I didn’t complain. I just let myself sink into him, his warmth, his scent, and the steady rhythm of his breathing. When we reached his car, he gently set me in the passenger seat, his fingers lingering against my skin for a moment before he pulled away. His jaw was still clenched, his hands curling into fists before he forced them to relax. He was trying to stay calm for me, but I could see the rage burning in his eyes. He got in the driver’s seat, his movements sharp and precise. The second he started the engine, he pulled out, speeding through the empty streets like a man on a mission. 

“Where are we going?” I asked weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. 

“Doc.” He said, not taking his eyes off the road. “Called him right after you called me. He’s meeting up at the spot.” 

I swallowed hard. The Ghoulies’ doctor. I heard about him before, a guy who patched up Ghoulies when shit went south. He wasn’t exactly a licensed professional, but right now, I didn’t care. I just needed to stop feeling like my entire body was falling apart. The ride was mostly silent, except for the occasional sharp breath I took when the pain flared up. Every time I did, Malachai’s hands tightened around the steering wheel like he wanted to murder someone. When we finally pulled up to a run-down house on the outskirts of town, Malachai was out of the car before I could even attempt to move. He came around to my side, opening the door and scooping me up again without hesitation. 

“You don’t have to-” I started, but he cut me off with a sharp look.” 

“Don’t even fucking start.” He muttered, carrying me up the steps. 

The door swung open before he could knock, revealing a middle-aged man with graying hair and tired eyes. He took one look at me and sighed. 

“Get her inside.” 

Malachai carried me into a small, dimly lit room that smelled faintly of antiseptic and cigarette smoke. He gently set me down on an old examination table, his hands lingering on my waist like he didn’t want to let go. The doctor wasted no time, grabbing his supplies and getting to work. He was rougher than a real doctor would have been, but I barely flinched. The pain was already so overwhelming that a few extra jabs didn’t make much difference. Malachai, on the other hand, didn’t take it well. When the doctor pressed a little too hard on my ribs, making me hiss in pain, Malachai stepped forward, his muscles tensing. 

“Watch it.” 

The doctor shot him an unimpressed look. “You want her patched up or not? Let me do my job.” 

Malachai didn’t respond, but I could see how badly he wanted to hit something. Instead, he turned his attention back to me, his hand finding mine. I gripped his fingers weakly, trying to ground myself. He noticed. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb brushing over my skin in slow, soothing circles. 

“Shh, shh…” He murmured, leaning closer. “You’re okay now.” 

His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. Gone was the ruthless Ghoulie leader everyone else knew. Right now, he was just my Malachai. The guy who stayed up late with me watching shit horror movies. The guy who always made sure I ate, even when I wasn’t hungry. The guy who was currently barely keeping himself together because I had been hurt. I blinked up at him, my body still aching, but for the first time that night, I felt safe. I was okay because Malachai was here.