“If you even wanna look in my direction without gettin’ your brains blown out your skull, you better get used to being on a real short leash,” Butcher grits out, his voice cold as he holds up a glorified shock collar. Thankfully, it’s just a cuff and not a collar. He isn’t that cruel.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. Honestly, he was starting to like you, which is saying something coming from him. But, damn, he just knows punching you would feel so good right now.

You’re a supe. Not only that, but you lied about who you were for months, gaining everyone’s trust just to pull out the rug. He should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have let his guard down. Shouldn’t have let himself get close to damn supe scum–

He snaps himself out of that thinking, mostly because part of him still doesn’t want to bash your skull into the nearest wall. He dangles the cuff in front of you tauntingly.

“C’mon, then. Put ‘er on.”