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starfinss · 2 years

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Coup de Grâce — Miraculous 2/2

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Miraculous Ladybug

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir + Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: SFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,599

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Coup de Grâce (Noun) A final blow or shot, given to kill a wounded person or animal.

When Adrien starts to put two and two together, he realizes Lila Rossi’s treatment of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng is far worse that he’d ever imagined, and the high road is no longer (and frankly, may have never been) an option. He decides to take matters into his own hands. Game, Set, Match.

Adrien woke the morning after the gala to a phone call.

It was before his alarm, and therefore before Adrien would be answering anything, so he declined the call, rolled over, and closed his eyes again, fully intent on going straight back to sleep.

It rang again.

“Adrien, please, turn off your phone,” Plagg whined, and Adrien grunted, declining the call again.

And, as Adrien expected, it rang again.

Plagg made a soft, disgruntled sound. “I’m going to eat your phone.”

Adrien sat up, brushing his mussed hair out of his sleepy eyes before picking up the phone and finally answering.

“Hello?”

“ADRIEN AGRESTE—”

Adrien pulled the phone an arm’s length away from his ear, startled completely awake by Alya’s shouting. She’d undoubtedly seen Jagged Stone’s livestream, and she indubitably didn’t like what she saw. Why she was awake and screaming at him before six in the morning, Adrien didn’t know, but she was making it very clear that this was his problem, and it was his problem now.

“—She never even TOLD ME—“

Adrien pulled the phone away again, exchanging a glance with Plagg before finally taking a deep breath and pressing the phone back to his ear.

“Alya,” he said, “calm down.”

“Calm do— CALM DOWN?! Don’t you tell me to calm down, you knew about all of this, didn’t you? That she… that SNAKE was lying to me? I can’t BELIEVE I thought Marinette was ever jealous. She knew all along, and I should have trusted her.”

Alya sounded like she was on the verge of tears, and Adrien couldn’t blame her. He’d been the one to tell Marinette to be the bigger person, and that hadn’t turned out well at all.

“Alya,” Adrien repeated, “I feel horrible, too. I told Marinette to take the high road, and Lila ended up bullying her—”

“Wait, wait, hold the ABSOLUTE phone, Agreste, Lila WHAT?! All Marinette said was thats she and Lila didn’t get along, but excuse me— you’re telling me that this BITCH has been bullying my best friend?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said miserably, “I overheard Lila in the locker room with Marinette. Threatening her, calling her names. It was horrible.”

“And you didn’t confront her?!”

Adrien sighed. “What do you think last night was? I couldn’t just tell her off in the locker room, she’d be onto me, no matter how badly I wanted to. I’ve talked to Lila about the lying before, but she never stops. I had to make it stick, and that meant being sneaky.”

Alya was silent for a second before she spoke again. “At LEAST tell me you comforted her. I dunno, gave her a hug, anything? Marinette is sensitive, something like that— going on for that long— oh, God.”

Her voice sounded equal parts miserable and exhausted, and Adrien knew how she felt. He’d felt the same when he finally realized what had been going on.

“Of course, I gave her a hug,” Adrien said, mildly indignant, “I’m not a monster.”

“God, her heart probably was on the verge of exploding.”

Adrien blinked. “What?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Alya said quickly, “I had an inkling of what was going on, Lila threatened Marinette in the bathroom a few months ago, but I stupidly thought she was stretching the truth a little. I believed her, though, I knew she’d never make something like that up. The way she said Lila was acting was… it was scary, Adrien. It seemed almost impossible that she could say those things, Lila always seems so… nice, so genuine.”

Alya scoffed, her voice tight, and angry, and so, so bitter. “But I guess that’s another one of her lies, isn’t it? I’ve been less inclusive of Lila since she makes Marinette uncomfortable, like, you know, not inviting Lila over, or just having time with me and Marinette, but she never told me that Lila was— oh my God, I’ve been such a bad friend.”

“No,” Adrien said, “Lila had everyone fooled. She’s a good liar, I’ll give her that. What matters now is being there for Marinette, I don’t doubt that Lila will try and take this out on her. We have to protect her.”

Adrien paused, “also, why are you calling me this early?”

Alya scoffed tearfully. “You think I got a wink of sleep after seeing that? All I could think about was how I didn’t believe Marinette, my best friend, when she was being bullied. I should’ve stuck with the feeling I got when I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me, because she so obviously wasn’t fine, Adrien, she must’ve felt so alone, and I should have believed her.”

“Then make it up to her,” Adrien said, “apologize, be a good friend, and call Lila out the second you see her at school.”

“Done and done. So much more than done,” Alya snarled, “I’m burying that girl in the fucking ground. She’s dead, Adrien, d-e-a-d, DEAD.”

And with that, she hung up, leaving Adrien sitting, dumbstruck in the darkness of his room.

“It is way too early for all of that,” grumbled Plagg, “what’d she even want, anyway?”

Adrien flopped down on the bed. “You probably heard most of that. She wasn’t exactly quiet. But I’m pretty sure Lila’s life is in danger.”

“Good,” the Kwami scoffed, “she deserves a little misfortune. You have no idea how crazy that girl was driving me.”

Adrien chuckled dryly. “I may have an inkling.”

Plagg fell asleep again in a few seconds, but Adrien wasn’t able to, so he got out of bed and got ready for his morning workout routine. After said routine, he took a shower, longer than usual since he had the time. He was even able to watch a few of his favorite compilation videos of Ladybug before Nathalie came upstairs to fetch him for breakfast.

Said meal passed uneventfully, with little conversation between Adrien and his father. Adrien was still annoyed with him for inviting Lila as his date without running it past him, so that was fine by him. It was only when he was getting into the car to go to school that Nathalie told him he was no longer to associate with Lila Rossi, and that she was no longer welcome in the house.

Adrien pretended to be confused, and when asked why that was, Nathalie simply told him it was ‘bad for PR’ before shutting the car door. Regardless, Adrien accepted the verdict, much more easily than Nathalie expected, Adrien gathered, from her perplexed expression.

That, Adrien decided, was something he could live with.

He was barely in his seat before everything went sideways, and the bell hadn’t even rang yet.

“Dude, what was that?” Nino cried, sliding into the seat beside him, “the class chat is going insane, haven’t you seen any of it?”

“Adrien, we need to talk,” Came Alya’s voice, from somewhere over Adrien’s shoulder.

“No,” Adrien said, turning to Nino, “I haven’t looked at the class chat, I had it muted since last night at the gala since it’s not exactly good etiquette to have your phone buzzing nonstop. And we will talk, Alya.”

Alya looked like she hadn’t slept, and, from what she’d told Adrien, she hadn’t. Her hair was unwashed, tossed into a ponytail, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked a bit like she’d gotten dressed in the dark, or, and Adrien didn’t at all blame her if this were the case, she just didn’t care about looking nice today. She had ass to kick, and nobody said there was a dress code for that.

In Adrien’s case, ass kicking, as well as anything that he considered a good time, involved black leather, as well as tossing himself from building to building and hitting things with a stick, but that was just him.

“I can’t believe that she’s been lying,” Nino sighed, clearly wounded, “all this time, to all of us. What else has she— and with the bullying— How deep does it go? Has she ever told the truth at all?”

Alya scoffed. “Fat chance of that.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival Marinette, who seemed just a little more upbeat than she had been the day previous. She’d clearly seen the class chat, and with how big of a fan Adrien knew she was of Jagged Stone, she’d undoubtedly seen the stream. Furthermore, she was more than smart enough to know what Adrien had been doing.

Alya sprang from her seat like she’d been ejected from it, tugging Marinette into a fierce hug. The other girl started, but she hugged her best friend back.

“I’m so sorry,” Alya muttered into Marinette’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry that I didn’t believe you, if you don’t forgive, me I understand, I—”

“Alya,” Marinette said softly, her expression blissfully happy, “no, stop, I forgive you. For her credit, she was a good liar. But— I expect you to buy me a whole box of macarons. Y’know, to make it up to me. And I get to pick the movies we watch, for a whole month.”

“Done,” Alya said in an instant, her relief clear in her voice, “super done.”

Adrien decided not to mention that Marinette lived above a bakery, as that would ruin a sweet moment, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“God, M, why didn’t you tell me?” Alya sighed, and Marinette shrugged.

“I dunno, I thought maybe I was being dramatic, and I— I wanted to solve it myself. So I just said that we didn’t get along.”

Alya scoffed. “I was an idiot to have believed that. But I was an even bigger idiot to have believed Lila.”

“Is Lila even here today?” Adrien asked, and Nino chuckled bitterly.

“She’s here,” he said, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands behind his head, “hiding out somewhere, who knows. Little miss pants-on-fire probably wants to do damage control. Not that there’s anything left for her to control. She’s already been removed from the class chat. She’s done-zo, man.”

Adrien tilted his head. “How do you know she’s here? Did you see her?”

Nino chuckled. “Yeah, on my way in. She kept her head down, didn’t look at anyone. I didn’t approach; she isn’t worth my time. Marinette, for what it’s worth, I’m super sorry, too. I should’ve believed you. If there’s anything I can do to make it up, let me know, yeah?”

Marinette smiled, her cheeks gently pink, and she nodded.

“From now on,” Alya said, resting her head on Marinette’s shoulder, “I listen to you. Not some fake bitch with a fake life, girl. And you’re totally allowed to be mad at me, I was a horrible friend.”

The next ten or so minutes was full of apologies from classmates as they arrived, sans Chloé, who, of course, loudly claimed she knew Lila was lying the entire time, a declaration that convinced no one, earning a chorus of exasperated groans. Rose, contrastingly, burst into tears, with not even Marinette’s repeated assurances that she was forgiven providing any comfort. She finally stopped wailing after Juleka peppered her face with kisses, her hiccuping sobs turning into delighted giggles.

It was when Lila Rossi herself entered the classroom that everyone went silent.

Adrien’s eyes passed across his classmates, taking in the downright venomous looks they were giving Lila, but none of those held a candle to Alya. The expression on her face was something Adrien could only describe as apocalyptic fury, her eyes blazing behind her spectacles, her lip curled back to reveal her teeth in a menacing snarl. She probably would have already pounced on Lila if Nino wasn’t physically holding her back from doing so.

“You have some nerve—“ Alya started, but Nino clapped a hand over her mouth, much to her fury.

Lila barely acknowledged the other girl’s anger, her face a perfect mask of impassive and casual, a polite smile glued to her lips. She seemed completely nonplussed by the eyes on her, infuriatingly nonchalant, and if Alya was kept back any longer, Adrien was pretty sure she was going to start foaming at the mouth.

“Oh, Marinette,” Lila said, as though she’d just remembered something while she placed her things down at her desk, “can we talk? It’s nothing big, I promise.”

Marinette shrank in on herself, halfway hiding behind Adrien where he stood beside her.

Softly, and low enough that nobody else could hear, Adrian leaned over to her, just a little, to speak into her ear.

“Say yes,” he whispered, “don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. I’ll be right there with you.”

Marinette looked like she was about to bust into a million pieces, her face the color of a boiled lobster, but she nodded, straightening back up to her full height. A mask of calm slipped over her face, all the worry and fear previously in her expression melting away as if it was never there at all. She was suddenly the picture of confidence, and as Adrien studied her, he realized that this somehow seemed…

Familiar.

“Okay,” Marinette said, her voice even and calm, “I’ll bite. The locker room, in say, five minutes?”

Lila giggled, and something passed behind her eyes, something that made shivers rake down Adrien’s spine. But, just as quick as it appeared, it was gone. Adrien swallowed the swell of unease that caught in his throat, keeping his face blank.

“Sure,” Lila said, pleasant as ever, “Locker room. It’s a date.”

And with that, she turned on her heel, disappearing through the classroom door.

“I have a plan,” Adrien said, after a few seconds of tense silence had passed.

Alya yanked Nino’s hand away from her face. “If that plan involves strangling her, I’m all in.”

“No,” Adrien said, “but it does involve dealing the final blow, if you’re interested in that.”

Alya smirked. “Since when have you been so devious, Agreste?”

“Since someone started bullying my friend.”

And since the high road didn’t work, I’m fighting dirty.

Alya seemed to approve of this. “Okay, okay. Now, what’s the plan?”

The plan was simple. And it all started with Marinette.

Adrien walked alongside her down the hallway, his hand resting on the small of her back to try and soothe her unease, but that only seemed to make her more tense. The mask of confidence hadn’t slipped, but he could tell she wasn’t looking forward to confronting Lila, even with a friend alongside her.

Marinette stepped into the locker room before Adrien did, and the second she did, Adrien heard a heavy thud, and then a gasp of pain.

He’d never burst a door open so quickly in his life.

There was Lila, her face so different from what she usually looked like that she was almost unrecognizable. There was no hint of her usual kindness or soft, silly humor, or the ever present sparkle of sly mischief only visible to those who really looked. Her lips were curled back an a cold, unfriendly sneer, with teeth bared like she was a predator who had caught its prey. And her eyes…

There was nothing behind those eyes.

And that was what scared Adrien the most. Because now, though some small part of him suspected it before, he knew that Lila felt absolutely nothing for the people she hurt. She didn’t do this because she wanted people to like her. She didn’t do this for any conceivable reason that any regular pathological liar would; because she couldn’t help it. Lila Rossi lied because she could, for her own personal gain and for the pleasure she got from doing so. She was a master manipulator. This was a game to her, and she hated to lose.

She simply found joy in tormenting those who kept her from getting what she wanted.

And Adrien thought Hawkmoth was a monster. Lila Rossi didn’t need superpowers for that.

Lila’s fist was clenched at her side, the other drawn back, but then there was Marinette, sitting on her knees and clutching her cheek, and Adrien knew what she’d just done, what line Lila had crossed, and he didn’t even know if it was the first time she’d done so. With a rage he’d never experienced before, Adrien stalked forward to stand in front of Marinette, using his superior height to tower over Lila, staring down his nose at her, his disgust crystal clear on his face.

The emptiness in Lila’s eyes was rapidly replaced with false shock, then fear, and betrayal, and Adrien had no idea how she was so good at pretending to feel after she’d just struck someone in the face with a closed fist, after she had spent her entire time in France making false friendships and hurting everyone she spoke to. He wondered with bitter bemusement what ludicrous lie she was going to use, what she could possibly say in order to get out of this situation.

Adrien expected her to lie. He didn’t expect her to launch herself into his arms, crocodile tears tracing her cheeks, with false, hiccuping sobs shaking her narrow shoulders. He didn’t expect her to cling onto him like he was her saving grace, her manicured nails digging into his skin through his shirt as she held onto him with a vice grip.

“Oh, Adrien,” she wailed, her voice full of sorrow, “Marinette hit me, she just hauled off and hit me! I just needed some help with—”

Everything slowed down. Adrien had been nice to this girl. He’d been good to her, given her the benefit of the doubt, tried to give her every chance in the world for a shred of retribution, to try and prove that she was better than this, that she could be happy without building herself a fragile, falsified house of cards. He tried. And she went and hurt the people he cared about.

Adrien was done. He was done being nice. He was done letting her stoke him like he was an animal in a petting zoo whenever she felt like it, putting her hands where they were very much not welcome, and he was done being polite about refusing her advances, or chucking awkwardly as he pushed her hands away from his body, only to be forced to endure again, and again, and again.

You know what they say about a house of cards. All it takes is a single push to make it all fall down. This was Adrien’s push.

“That’s enough, Lila,” he said, with no hint of malice in his voice, “you can stop now.”

She looked up at him with watery eyes, her face the perfect imitation of someone who was so utterly betrayed, but Adrien was not buying it. He knew what she really looked like now.

“S-stop?” She hiccuped, “stop what? Adrien, please, Marinette, she’s been bullying me since I got here, I know she hates me, and she set you up last night, right? She put you up to all that— that stupidity. Just tell me that’s what happened, and I’ll forgive you, Adrien.”

Adrien shook his head, face still calm. “No, Lila. That isn’t what happened. You know that.”

Her eyes grew frantic. “Y-yes, yes it is! She put you up to that, and you didn’t mean it.”

“Lila. Listen to me—”

“YOU DIDN’T MEAN IT.”

Adrien knew exactly what she was doing. She was seriously, after he knew every single breath she took was a lie, trying to gaslight him. Had she done this to Marinette? The mere thought of it made his anger swell to dangerous levels.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? You wouldn’t want to hurt me.”

Guilt tripping, gaslighting, what else was she going to try? Adrien may as well have been a statue, his expression just as stony as one. His eyes remained fixed on her face, unimpressed, the only indication that he was even listening to her being his eyebrows as they rose into his hairline.

“Lila, stop,” he said, finally, gently pushing her off of him, “that’s enough. No more games. No more nothing. Nobody slandered you, either. Nobody told the entire student body that you were best friends with Ladybug, or that you saved Jagged Stone’s cat, or that you got an expensive necklace from the prince of Achu. You did. All I did, all anyone did, was believe you.”

Lila blinked back her false tears, still trying to sell the wounded victim act, but the only thing it accomplished was making Adrien angrier.

“Just tell me you didn’t mean it,” she whimpered, as if she hadn’t heard what Adrien had just said, “you didn’t mean to force me to be on that livestream. You didn’t, right?”

Adrien started at her, perplexed and mildly amused. “Lila, I didn’t put you on livestream. Jagged Stone did. I didn’t tell him to do that. I don’t control him. You got yourself into this mess by lying, I did not do this to you. Stop looking for people to blame, and take a look in a damn mirror. I’m done with this, I’m done with you.”

He stepped forward, forcing her to take a step back, her tearful expression flickering, but Adrien didn’t care. He was on a roll.

“Because you don’t just lie, Lila. You hurt people. You enjoy hurting people, and that is sick. Something is wrong with you for enjoying tormenting others,” Adrien spat, the temperature of his voice dropping into single digits. “You bullied Marinette because what, she didn’t believe your lies? She saw through you? You felt the need to hurt her, someone sweet, and kind, and just purely good because of a stupid reason like that? Of course you did. To protect your falsified reputation, you took it out on her.”

Lila shook her head rapidly, and Adrien was mildly impressed she was continuing the charade. Her dedication to her act was admirable, even if it was for the wrong reasons.

“No!” She cried, “Adrien, I love you, don’t you know that? I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you. Marinette has been bullying me because she—”

“Save it,” Adrien interjected, “don’t you even try it. If you think I will believe a word you say you’ve got another thing coming. I gave you several chances, because I hate believing that someone is completely bad, and I hoped to God that you weren’t always a horrible liar, that just maybe you could change, but I was wrong. You’re worse than a liar. You’re a bully. And I will not be friends with someone like that, ever.”

Several emotions passed over Lila’s face, and Adrien thought that this might be his first glimpse of what she really felt. He could see the mental gymnastics going at the speed of light behind her eyes as she wiped at her face with the heels of her hands, raising her gaze to meet his once more.

“Does it even matter to you that I just told you I love you?”

Adrien stared at her, and before he could open his mouth to speak, Marinette did it for him.

“Love?” She said, her voice wobbly with emotions, but the scorn interlaced into her tone was almost palpable, “don’t make me laugh, Lila. You don’t lie and manipulate and gaslight someone you love. This is you, seeking control. Because that’s what you want, right? You don’t want love, you want someone you can break down into whatever you want, someone you can own. That isn’t love.”

“Don’t listen to her, Adrien!” Lila sobbed, “I do, love you, I do! You know I do. I love you more than anything.”

Adrien shook his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line. “No. Marinette’s right. This isn’t love, Lila. You need to stop. That’s enough.”

The tears stopped. It was so abrupt it was like someone had flipped a switch, and Lila stood terrifyingly still for a handful of seconds before a new emotion overtook her face.

Rage.

In a flash, she was on Marinette again, screaming profanities and insults, and Adrien rushed forward, past caring about being gentle as he yanked her off of his friend. She was fast, though, as she was suddenly on him, shoving him into the lockers, his back hitting the one of the metal handles with a painful clang that would undoubtedly leave a nasty bruise. Lila’s face was a twisted, feral grimace, her eyes swirling with selfish rage, her breath expelling out from between her grit teeth in seething bursts.

“Fine,” she snarled, “I lied. Yeah, maybe I do like fucking with idiots like Marinette. People like her, with those big, stupid soft hearts, it’s the most fun to watch them crack. To watch them fall into despair, wondering ‘why me’ when there isn’t any reason other than I felt like it. Everyone worships me. I tell those stupid sycophants what they want to hear to get things to go my way. Is it so wrong to want to be in control?”

Lila was unrecognizable, her eyes a horrifying concoction of mania and malice, her mouth split open into a wide, wolfish grin. Her hands were wrapped around Adrien’s upper arms, her nails cutting through his shirt painfully, and she leaned in until her nose was nearly pressed to his.

“Liar Lila, that’s what you wanted to hear, right?” She sneered, “well, I can lie some more. I can ruin you, Adrien Agreste. You’re going to regret siding with her. Watch me tell the principal, the police, that you and that bitch jumped me, a poor, defenseless girl. Watch me tell ruin your spotless reputation, watch me say you touched me. They’ll believe me. I know they will. Because if they don’t, they’re blaming the victim. I hope you liked school, Adrien, or having friends, or fans, or respect. You and Marinette deserve each other. You can be pariahs together.”

Adrien remained unfazed, despite the severity of her threats. In fact, he smiled. And as his grin grew wider, as did the confusion on Lila’s face.

“Why the fuck are you—”

“Alya,” Adrien said, “now’s good.”

The shutter of a camera went off like a gunshot, and Lila’s eyes went wide with horror as she jolted back and away from Adrien like he’d burned her.

“Nah,” Alya said as she finally, finally stepped into the room, “that’s it for you, miss pants-on-fire.”

Adrien watched Alya’s eyes roll as Lila’s eyes welled up with tears again.

“Alya!” She cried, “I was just defending—”

Alya rolled her neck, then her shoulders as she stepped forward, phone in her hand, undoubtedly recording.

“You,” Alya said, her voice dripping with tranquil fury, “can shut the hell up.”

“You don’t understand, Marinette isn’t your friend, she lied to you, I—”

Alya moved more quickly than Adrien had ever seen her move, shoving her phone into her pocket, the blink of the red light telling Adrien the phone was still recording audio.

“Oh my God, Lila, shut up,” Alya spat, her voice saturated with venom. “Didn’t I just tell you to shut up? You what? You lied? You bullied my best friend? Don’t you dare talk to me about Marinette, you two-faced, back stabbing cockroach. I thought we were friends. I can’t believe I ever thought a single word out of your filthy mouth was the truth. You played me and the entire fucking class for a fool, and you will regret that.”

The visage of a helpless, tormented girl drained from Lila’s face in an instant, replaced with her sneer, and she squared her shoulders, stepping towards Alya.

“Regret what? Your friend made herself an easy target. And she’s already so sensitive that—”

Alya did something Adrien was expecting her to do, but it still surprised him nonetheless: she hauled back, and in a flash, she slapped Lila across the face. The impact of the strike sent Lila stumbling back, her eyes wide as her hand rose to cup her cheek. She was stunned to silence, both from the slap and from the terrifying fury rolling off of Alya in crashing waves. Her face had given way to bug-eyed shock, her jaw slack, opposite arm limp by her side. If Adrien didn’t know any better, he’d think that this had never happened to Lila before: she’d never had to face the ramifications of her actions. And Hell hath no fury like an Alya scorned.

“I am talking,” Alya snarled, “mouth closed, attention please.”

Helpless, Lila nodded.

“Like, seriously?” Alya said, waving her hands around in indignation, “and I thought Chloé was bad, but she looks like a fucking humanitarian compared to you. I can’t believe I ever put you on my blog in a positive light. I hope you know that this recording is going to every goddamn person in school. Hell, maybe I’ll post it to the school website, maybe my blog. You know what, I think I’ll do just that. Maybe even Adrien’s fan page. I’ve sure the people over there would love to hear you threatening him. And don’t even think of speaking a single word unless it’s an apology to Marinette. Everyone has had enough of you.”

At last, Adrien saw the first genuine flicker of fear in Lila’s eyes. She backed up further, roles swapped drastically from predator to trapped prey as Alya stalked towards her like she was about to devour her whole, and if she wasn’t stopped, she probably would. But Adrien wasn’t going to stop her.

“Apologize,” Alya said, no, ordered, “by tonight. I’ll have Max add you back to the class chat, just for a little bit. Own up to all your shit, apologize to Marinette, tell everyone what you did, or I will do it for you. And if you ever touch another hair on Marinette’s head ever again, you know you’ll have me to worry about. Now get out of my sight.”

Lila stood still. Her eyes were wide with shock, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she her gaze passed from Alya, to Marinette, then finally landing on Adrien. He stared back at her, expression frosty. She would get no more help, no more second chances from him. Genuine, defeated tears welled up in her eyes, no more of the play acting dramatics to be found as she swallowed back a sob. Without another word, Lila turned, keeping her head down, and ran out of the room.

Silence. It was quiet enough in the locker room to hear a pin drop, interrupted only by the rhythmic sound of Alya’s labored breathing as she tried and failed to calm down. Adrien turned to face her, and watched as tears of her own beaded at her lash line, reappearing even as she blinked them back. She wiped her face furiously before reaching down to end the recording on her phone. In a few taps, Adrien’s phone buzzed, undoubtedly with the audio recording that had just been taken.

“Adrien,” Alya said, “thank you.”

Adrien looked back at her, puzzled. “What for?”

“Sticking up for her, dumbass. Sorry I called you a dumbass,” Alya sniffled. “I mean, thank you for seeing through Lila’s tricks, for supporting Marinette when I—”

Alya bit back another sob, and Adrien wanted to step forward, to try and offer some form of comfort, but she held her hand up.

“I’m not the important one, here,” Alya said, “Marinette is.”

Adrien turned towards where Marinette was sitting, still on her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. Her left cheek was red, undoubtedly in the early stages of a forming bruise. Tears were welling up in her eyes, too, but she wasn’t bothering to brush them away, letting them spill down her cheeks in soundless cries, but Adrien could tell that among the cacophony of stentorian emotions that were thundering in her head, that one in particular was present beyond a shadow of a doubt: relief.

Kneeling beside her and pulling her forwards and into his arms felt as natural as breathing, and the second he was touching her, it was like a dam broke. It was like everything was hitting her at once, with soft, sniffling sobs spilling out as she finally just let it hurt. She pulled Adrien closer to her, burying her head in the crook off his neck, a spot where it fit like it was always meant to be.

“You’re okay, now,” Adrien whispered, and she clung to him more tightly, “she can’t hurt you again. I won’t let her.”

Marinette let out a gasping sob as her fingers curled into the cloth of Adrien’s shirt, just to hold onto something, and he let her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back with one hand as his opposite arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, holding her close.

Adrien smiled when he felt Alya move in, wrapping her arms around the both of them, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to the crown of Marinette’s head, whispering her apologies and promises to do better into the midnight of her hair, and Marinette lifted her chin, leaning up to press her forehead against her best friend’s.

Alya quietly excused herself after that, undoubtedly to upload the audio recording she’d just taken to every social media platform she had an account with, leaving Marinette with Adrien as he continued to whisper words of comfort. She cried for a long time, and Adrien’s heart hurt for her. He knew what it felt like to be alone, to be helpless. Marinette didn’t deserve to feel that way, nobody did.

He wondered if Ladybug ever felt this way. She was always so strong and confident. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry, not that any part of Marinette was weak for crying, it was human to cry. Even if Adrien had never seen Ladybug cry, he knew she probably did. It made his heart, his entire soul ache, just the thought of his lady being sad or lonely. The thoughts of her and the beautiful girl in his arms blurred together, and, without even thinking, the words just… slipped out.

“It’s gonna be okay, bugaboo.”

Adrien hadn’t even realized he’d said anything until a few seconds had passed, and Marinette was staring up at him with wide, shocked, teary eyes, an odd mix of recognition and utter befuddlement intertwining behind her bluebell hues.

“You—” She sniffled, “you called me— You called me ‘bugaboo.’”

For all of Adrien’s eloquence, manners, and high society etiquette, he had no idea what to say to that.

He stared back at her like a deer in the headlights, his eyes wide and terrified because he was truly fucked. He’d slipped up, and there was no Ladybug to put things back the way they were, nobody to backpedal and make Marinette forget that he’d just Freudian slipped while she was crying in his arms and he was trying to be comforting— Oh God, Plagg was going to tease him about this for the rest of time.

“I—” Adrien floundered, “j-just uh, forget—”

“N-no,” Marinette said, suddenly panicking, more tears welling up, “no, no that can’t be right, nobody calls me that— I mean nobody calls me that— Unless— Except…”

Adrien had no idea what she thought she knew, or what she was even talking about, but he watched as realization rapidly dawned on her, realization that was completely lost on him.

Her voice was thick with emotion when she finally spoke, a watery smile spreading across her lips, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“I thought,” she said, her voice adopting a laughing edge, despite her tears, “I told you not to call me that.”

Adrien stared back at her blankly. What did she—

Oh.

There it was.

It was hitting him like a big semi truck, knocking him flat on his back like a fifty foot tidal wave.

Because it was so fucking obvious.

All those times Marinette seemed to pop up just after Ladybug vanished, how she seemed to know things only Marinette knew, why she got so bent out of shape when Lila claimed that Ladybug was her best friend. Or why Adrien always had a particular fondness for the constellations of freckles on Marinette’s face, just as he did with Ladybug’s. Why Ladybug always adopted Marinette’s stammer when she spoke to him in his civilian form.

It all made sense. All of Plagg’s weird double entendres, all of the winking and nudging his Kwami did when regarding both Ladybug and Marinette.

The confidence she wore like a second skin, her grace and poise and sass that Adrien always told himself was just a coincidence because he saw Ladybug in everything. The way Marinette’s smile reminded him of the same heaven that Ladybug’s did, and again, it had to be a coincidence, because it had to be another cruel trick of Adrien’s chronic bad luck if his lady was here, right in front of him, all along.

Marinette. Marinette. Marinette.

Tears of his own welled up in Adrien’s eyes as he stared at her, awestruck and punch drunk in love as he raised a palm to cup her face, so gingerly, like she was made of glass and precious jewels.

“You,” he whispered, voice drawn taut with emotion, “you. You’re my lady.”

Marinette’s eyes darted away, even though she leaned into his touch, betraying her own hesitance.

“A-are you disappointed it’s me?”

Adrien laughed. He didn’t mean to, but the notion that Marinette Dupain-Cheng could ever be in the same sentence with the word ‘disappointing’ was laughable. Among all of Adrien’s firm admissions that Marinette was just a friend, he saw her as a cut above the rest. Nino was his friend. Marinette was Marinette. She was talented, beautiful, and kinder than anyone he’d ever met in his life. Internally, he’d been struggling for his slowly growing feelings for her, alongside the ones he had for Ladybug for so long he’d grown tired of trying to suppress them.

Being disappointed it was her was absolutely laughable.

“Disappointed?” Adrien parroted, “God, no. No, Marinette, I’m glad it’s you. There’s nobody else I’d rather have as my lady. I’ve loved you since— Since the moment I laid eyes on you. Every waking moment has been thoughts of you, but I understand you’re in love with another boy. I value you as my friend before all of that, I’d rather you be happy and remain in my life than force my feelings on you. It’s Luka, isn’t it? He’s a great guy, and—”

It was Marinette’s turn to laugh, and Adrien blinked at her, almost owlishly.

“Silly, oblivious kitty. So dense.”

Adrien stared, affronted. “Me-ouch.”

“It’s you.” She said, blinking back tears, “Adrien, the boy I love, the one I kept rejecting you for, is you. I’ve been crazy, insane, stupid for you ever since that thing with the umbrella, the day we met. I love you so much that all I think about is you, all I want is you. I’ve tried dating, and sure Luka is wonderful. But he wasn’t you, and as much as I care about Luka, it just doesn’t feel right. I’ve wanted you since day one, Adrien Agreste.”

It took Adrien’s brain a few seconds to catch up with her words, because things like this didn’t happen to him. He was waiting for her to laugh her signature nervous Marinette laugh, speedily telling him she was joking, or for his alarm clock to wake him up, or for anything at all to interrupt this, but he blinked, squeezing his eyes shut once, twice, and his lady remained, enfolded in his arms, those incredible eyes still fixed on his face, a soft, painfully endearing smile playing at her lips.

This was real. She was real.

“I—” Adrien gasped, at a loss for words, “I— you—”

“Yeah,” Marinette giggled, tearfully, “I love you, too, you stupid cat.”

In that moment, after everything Adrien had been through, it all felt like nothing at all, no more than fleeting moments, because here she was, in his arms, telling him what he’d wanted to hear for two years, telling him she loved him just as much, just as fiercely as he loved her. All this time, they’d been chasing each other’s shadows, so desperately smitten with one another that nobody could hold even half a candle.

Adrien made a sound that was an odd mix of a laugh and a sob as he pulled her achingly tight against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, reveling in the way she fit against him like she was made to, how soft her skin was, how she smelled like sweet sugar and freshly baked dough. She was perfect to him, with all her flaws and misgivings, they were and always had been something he could more than happily live with, as Ladybug or as Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien whispered into her hair, “can I kiss you, Marinette?”

Marinette stiffened, her face luminescent. “If want to— I mean, if you don’t— I mean—”

Adrien chuckled warmly, his heart seizing in his chest. “Never change, Marinette.”

One of his hands slid down her cheek to find her chin, tilting her face up, and he watched her eyes flutter closed as he leaned in, slowly, finally meeting her lips with his own. It was like everything he’d ever held back was spilling out, a symphony of emotion and sensation and pure, perfect adoration. One of Adrien’s hands slid down to lace into the wisps of hair at the base of her skull, the other cupping her cheek, his thumb smoothing over the gentle curve of her cheekbone, and he could feel her in his blood, thundering through his heart, consuming him whole.

Adrien angled his head to deepen the kiss, pulling back just slightly only to dive back in, kissing her with everything he had, and she was giving back just as much, clinging onto him, her fingers in his hair, and her touch felt like perfection incarnate, like everything he’d ever been missing.

They pulled apart only with great reluctance, resting their foreheads together, blissfully happy and oh so in love.

“Hey, Miss Busiter is looking for—”

Alya’s voice tore them from their focus on one another, but they didn’t separate, even as Alya stared at them with wide eyes, a slow, bordering on manic grin appearing on her face.

“Oh, my God,” she hollered, “it is about damn time.”

Marinette floundered in a way that Adrien could now call utterly adorable without forcing the word platonic down his own throat, making him smile like a total dope, pulling her tighter.

“A-Alya!” She cried, wiping her remaining tears with the back of her hand, “I— we were just—”

“She knows what we were doing,” Adrien laughed, his smile widening when Alya, characteristically, snapped a photo of them still pressed close together.

Marinette sighed. “Yeah, well, that’s… Gonna take some getting used to. Yeah, Alya, this is exactly what it looks like.”

“As much as I’d love, and I mean love to celebrate,” Alya said, her grin earsplitting, “you two are still students. You can hold hands and cuddle and all that after school. Oh my God, Marinette, we can go on double dates! This is so great! We— We’ll talk about it later.”

Marinette laughed, the first truly genuine laugh Adrien had heard from her in weeks, and it made his heart do a funny, jumpy thing in his chest, his stomach twisting into knots. He should have realized who she was earlier from her laugh alone. Unable to bear to let go of her, Adrien kept their hands intertwined as they stood up from the floor, legs stiff from sitting for so long, but they hardly cared about that, not now.

Because everything, every bit of pain was worth it, if it meant being with her. And from the dreamy, adorably dorky way she was staring at him, Adrien was absolutely positive she felt the same.

The classroom erupted into cheers when Adrien and Marinette entered with their hands joined, their proximity far too close to be any kind of platonic, and during break, when Marinette finally asked Adrien to a movie without putting her foot in her mouth, Alya clapped her on the back so hard she went toppling forwards.

But that was fine. Adrien was there to help her up.

They got that double date, Nino and Alya dragging them to some cheesy horror flick that ended up being more funny than scary, and even when Marinette did get spooked at the odd spooky scene, Adrien was there to smooth his thumb over her knuckles. He was there for her. And if Lila came back, as she absolutely would, Adrien would be there, too. She was far from done, and Adrien knew that. He’d done enough damage to send her off for a good while to lick her wounds, but he knew there was only a matter of time before she popped back up like a particularly contagious chest cold. Only this time, they’d be ready.

And Adrien would never let her hurt his lady ever again. That was a promise. So was the absolute pure, sparkling elation they both felt as Adrien walked Marinette home, hand in hand, the setting sun on their backs, blissfully happy.

Adrien Agreste was walking on sunshine all the way home.

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innerenigma · 2 months

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•Normalize Fanart for Fanfics Again You Fools•

It's not cringe anymore (it SHOULDN'T be cringe anymore), just do it. You're doing something you enjoy, who cares what anybody else says! So spread the words my fellow internet brethren.

Spread the Word :)

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thatboisus · 3 months

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“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

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mysicklove · 5 months

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Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.

cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.

big brother au masterlist

“Su-kuna!”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs.

Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”

In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm.

The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”

Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.

Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals.

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”

“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up.

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.

The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”

“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”

“Yuuji!”

“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question.

In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”

Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”

“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”

You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man.

“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person.

The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.

You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”

“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.

Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.

“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.

“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”

“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.

You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.”

“Yes!”

“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”

Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”

“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.

You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”

“Why not?”

The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”

“And?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”

He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”

You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”

“You can't kick me out of my own room!”

You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”

The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed.

When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”

“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.

“Hm?”

“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.

You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”

You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.

Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch.

#mello.writes #big brother au #sukuna x reader #kid yuuji #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #yuuji fluff #yuuji tadori fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #female reader #f! reader #fem! reader

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bwabys-scenarios · 6 months

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NSFW

He likes to look up at you while he eats you out with those pretty eyes full of lust… “look at me, angel. look at how good I’m making you feel.”

He loves holding your hand, and if you look away he’ll hold your bud between his teeth lightly as a warning…

He usually doesn’t like to see you cry, but your eyes are so pretty when you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s given you.

He likes to tongue fuck you too but man… he loves sucking on your clit.

He likes to hear you whimper and whine, and loves when you tug on his hair or give him a little guidance

He can’t deny he gets really hard when you gently push his head towards your entrance, wanting some attention there too!!

The sounds…

He’s squeezing your thighs as he sucks, nibbles, licks… you’d think he was starving for pussy

He really just wants to make you feel good, but honestly he eats you out because he really really enjoys it.

He would do it regardless but… it does help that he loves it!

Trying to do anything around the house after he’s gotten a taste of pussy is hard. And god sitting on this man’s face?? He would go to cloud 9…

——————

|| GOJO|| NANAMI|| GETO|| SUKUNA|| CHOSO||TOJI ||KURAPIKA|| LEORIO|| CHROLLO|| ILLUMI|| FEITAN|| EREN|| JEAN|| ARMIN|| RENGOKU|| OBANAI|| TENGEN|| YOUR FAV

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v1x3n · 2 months

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katsukiizmoon · 1 year

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╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🌶 ┊Katsuki fucks like he can’t live w out you

『♡』 unprotected sex, spitting in mouth, cum eating, pussy licking, creampie, squirting, f!reader, reader has acrylics, biting

Katsuki fucks like he’s going to die without you. His hands shake despite his rough grip on your hips, yanking you down onto his cock. You gasp and moan every time he does it, fingers desperately searching for something to grip onto.

His mouth finds yours, tongue invading your mouth, like he’s hungry. It’s like he’s trying to devour you. He wants to take your soul and keep it. Make it his- make you his.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ He gasps, face tingling and shaking with pleasure.

Your pussy is squelching, frothing at the base as slick juices run between the two of you. His thick hand reaches to your jaw, thumb pushing between the plush of your lips.

He pries your mouth open and spits, a long string of saliva drizzling into your mouth. Your head throws back against the mattress and you squeal. The coil in your stomach begins to grow taut.

Your hand reaches to blond hair, tugging him lower and you push his spit back into his mouth with your tongue. He groans into the kiss before pulling back.

Katsuki snatches a pillow from his side of the bed, hooking his arm under your knees to lift your ass. It’s placed under your lower back and he shoves your knees to your shoulders, folding you in half.

The angle makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Thick, hot, heavy dick slamming into you with long strokes. He’s got to be in your stomach- you can feel it. The head pushes against the spongey spot inside you and squirt gushes from your pussy onto the both of you.

“Give it to me, y’feel like- oh-“ Katsuki babbles, watching you frantically nod your head.

Your pussy clenches around him and he’s on cloud nine. Acrylic nails dig into his shoulders, your teeth clamp down on the side of his throat. It’s raw- needy and desperate.

He can’t get enough of you. Stray hair sticks to the side of his face, sweat beads at the nape of his neck. His muscles are almost sore from fucking into your tight cunt. And he can’t stop.

He’s addicted. You begin rambling between moans and gasps, telling him filthy things. How he’s god, that you’re in love with him, no one’s gonna ever compare. And the coil in your tummy snaps.

Because he presses his cock against that special spot and stays. As much as it pains him he doesn’t move, waiting. And you explode, clear juice spurting from your pussy and all over his cock and pillow.

Your head throws back and you scream, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He’s the closest to heaven he’ll ever be when you tell him to cum inside you.

And god, he does. His fingers dig into the plush of your thigh and he clamps his jaw, teeth marking your shoulder. His hips stutter and he slams his length into you. His entire body goes taught and he fills you. Katsuki starts whining at the thought of what he’s doing.

He can feel his cock head pressed against your cervix now. If there was a way, he’d go further. But for now his cum fills your pussy, drenching the inside of your walls. He pushes your hips up.

“Don’t let it out, fuck- don’t.” Katsuki rasps, fingers running through his hair to move it out of the way.

He laps at your pussy and you squirm in his grip. He’s slurping his own cum out of you like it’s his last meal on this god forsaken earth. Licking at the squirt on your ass, his white ropes, sucking at your clit. You buck up and fuck into his mouth a bit, trying to ride his tongue and escape all the same.

You cum like that, shaking and writhing. He leaves a smack to your ass and shoves his cock back into you, fucking the cum that’s left back in. He’s got one more in him.

You get flipped over to your chest, where his cock is bullying that same spot again. And you just can’t stop squirting. It’s everywhere. The bed is soaked, you’re soaked, he’s soaked.

He finishes in you again after you’re drooling all over the bed and desperately begging for it. He thinks about another round. He doesn’t know how long he can go without you.

Cause to him you put the stars in the sky and your pussy tastes better than water to a man dying of dehydration.

#<3 I’m ovulating teehee #gochujang #boba time #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x yn #bakugo x you #bakugou self insert

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.

— I’ll find something to eat, alright?

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you.

— Ah…your father is at home?

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was.

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you.

— You didn’t tell him about me?

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh.

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home.

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel.

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it?

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years.

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like.

— Ja. You can have it.

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet.

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz.

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.

— What do you mean by this, sir?

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you.

König is.

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man.

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this.

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father.

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir.

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing.

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?

You look like a good candidate.

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz.

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here.

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is.

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.

— I don’t want to break his heart.

— He doesn’t have one.

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum.

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please”

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right.

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore.

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this.

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it.

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father.

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it?

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul.

— I’ll tell him.

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.

— I need to return to my dorm.

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja?

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

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tokoyamisstuff · 7 months

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#buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #one piece #buggy #shanks #mihawk #self insert #shitpost #alignment #opla

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sexlapis · 7 months

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[◉°] … Y/N & TOJI BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT… 537k views

⌦ 🎬 ⁺　　　.　　　　❀

꩜ actor! toji x actress! reader

⤷ synopsis : you & toji deny the dating rumours, but you’re both being a little bit too comfortable with each other for your relationship to be just “platonic”.

sfw, fluff, toji is a little ooc <3

. art credits to deltapork on twitter

.. inspired by this post

… part 2, part 3, part 4

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

꩜ first clip

you & toji are in an interview, one to promote the upcoming release of the action movie you both star in where you’re the main love interest. it is bound to be a huge success, judging by the interest and how everyone loves the chemistry you and toji have both in and out of film!

the interviewer asks you a question and while you’re responding you can feel someone staring at you. you turn to your left where toji is sitting, and he has his eyes dead set on you, not looking away for one second. you turn your focus back to the interviewer to continue answering, but you can’t help but turn back and see that he is still staring at you with his intense blue eyes. you repeat this a few times before cutting off your own sentence with a giggle and covering your face with your hands.

toji chuckles in confusion, looking at the interviewer and then back at you, bewildered. “what-whats so funny?”

you look at toji with your hands still covering your face. “toji, i can’t concentrate when you look at me like that!”

toji tilts his head, swiftly shifting his chair in your direction and leans closer to you, practically nose to nose at this point. “like what?”

“like that!” you laugh, covering your hot face once more as he and the interviewer laugh at your actions.

the interviewer chimes in. “i do have to say, your eyes can be quite intimidating..”

“see?!” you say to toji and then look to the interviewer. “thank you.”

toji huffs and just looks at you. and you look back at him with a small grin on your face.

you speak. “as i was saying…”

you repeat your response to the question and toji exaggeratedly stares at you and you attempt to ignore it (and fail).

꩜ second clip

this was a behind the scenes clip, where your cast member is speaking about his characters relationship with the other main characters but sadly for him, that is not where the viewers’ attention was.

in the background, they see toji sitting on a couch looking at his phone and then you walking into frame. toji looks up from his phone, and if you look very closely, he can be seen smiling at you. you walk over and plop down on the couch right next to him. you both talk to each other for a few moments, faces close together and then you lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and taking what appears to be a nap. toji, moving as slowly as he can, takes a blanket that is already on the couch and drapes of over you. you snuggle closer to him, prompting toji to rest his head on top of yours. he does just that.

꩜ third clip

during an interview with you and the cast members, including toji, in front of a live audience, you somehow found yourselves on the topic of the types of cars you all have. you then remember how toji had told you about a motorcycle he owned, but you forgot which kind.

“i think i wanna ride on toji’s..motorcycle! i think-”

you hear the audience laugh and hear a few wolf whistles and you turn to your fellow actors, who are also laughing, especially gojo. you seem confused, but then you think back to what you said a second ago and feel your face heat up in embarrassment.

“oh, no no nonono-” shaking your head vehemently, “that is not-”

“toji’s motorcycle eh?” gojo teases while raising his eyebrows and wiggling his fingers, which only encourages the mockery and your desire to punch him.

you cover your face with your hand and sigh. “oh my god.”

while everybody in the room makes fun of you, you look to the left to see toji’s reaction and the camera pans to his smug smirking face.

“i mean i’m free friday night so..” he trails off, winks at you and the audience goes crazy and you shove your face in your hands.

“forget i even said anything!”

꩜ fourth clip

you and toji were recording a little vlog like video for the fans, talking about what it was like on set when you get onto the subject of what working with the other cast members is like.

“yeah gojo’s is pain in the ass.” toji states and shakes his head, fondly almost. “never stops running that big mouth ‘a his.”

spits of laughter fall from your mouth at his frankness. “uhh..yeah that’s true, gojo if you see this don’t be offended!”

“yeah we still like you we just..wish you’d shut the fuck up more often.”

“toji!” you gasp and slap his chest, “you’re no spring chicken either you know.”

toji scoffs and looks at you with a raised brow. “yeah, you’re a handful yourself.”

“what? no i’m not!” toji tilts his head and blinks. “everyone says i’m great to work with. you’re such a liar.” you roll your eyes with a laugh.

toji chuckles and moves closer to you on the sofa, and leans towards your face. “no ‘s alright. i have big hands.” he places a kiss on your cheek.

“ew, you’re so corny!” you lean away and wipe away his kiss, trying not to smile and look flustered.

꩜ fifth clip

this was a big day for y/n x toji lovers, when a movie you were both in won an award. now, neither of you were the main characters, but the fans made sure to make you both the most popular ones.

while the director is accepting the award, fans zoomed in on you and toji standing near the back of the group of cast members, where you’re tearing up and trying not to cry. you’re wiping your tears and toji looks at you and does a double take when he realises that you’re crying. he looks down at you and hugs you from the side, which makes you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his waist. toji accepts this invitation and full on hugs you, kissing the top of your head softly and rubbing your back.

꩜ sixth clip

toji posts workout videos on his instagram stories. they’re mostly of him lifting weights and they’re rare, so fans cherish them.

and then theres a short video of you laying on top of toji’s back while he does pushups like it’s nothing. you’re smiling, spreading your arms out like you’re flying. toji suddenly starts going fast as fuck, making you bounce and almost fall off. you gasp and start hitting the back of his head while the person recording starts to laugh (most likely gojo).

you fall off toji’s back and lay on the floor like a starfish. the camera pans to a proud looking toji before you kick his face.

a/n: thank u for reading ^_-

#pls lemme know if you liked i feel like i could’ve done a little better <3 #actress!reader #actor!toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x self insert #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fic #toji fanfic #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji fluff #fushiguro toji x y/n

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starfinss · 2 years

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Coup de Grâce — Miraculous 1/2

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Miraculous Ladybug

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir + Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: SFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 6,469

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Coup de Grâce (Noun) A final blow or shot, given to kill a wounded person or animal.

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: Partially inspired by “Best (fake) Smile by Reiaji, over on Ao3! Seriously, dude, your fanfic is amazing. I adore that story, I’ve read it like, four times. Go read that fic, I highly recommend it. I’m so sorry, I stole some plot points, but I wanted to do it with my own twist.

It all started at breakfast.

Adrien had a fairly uneventful morning before this. He woke up at six, did a short morning workout, then took a shower, listening to the newest Jagged Stone single as he got dressed and ready for school.

A knock on the door prompted Adrien to turn off the music, half leaning over to tell the person outside to come in.

“Breakfast is on the table, Adrien,” Nathalie told him, tilting her head out the door and into the hall, telling him to come to the table when he was ready.

Adrien smiled warmly at her. “Thanks, Nathalie. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He finished up with tying his shoes, then made his way to the dining room, taking his seat at his usual spot.

“Good morning, father,” Adrien said, and his father looked up from his laptop for a split second, grunting an acknowledgement, before going back to whatever he was working on.

Ignoring the sting, Adrien picked up his utensils, slicing into the pancakes on his plate.

“As you know, Adrien,” Gabriel Agreste said, “I’m hosting a charity gala tonight.”

Adrien nodded, placing the slice of food into his mouth. He knew where this was going. He was already dreading having to get dressed up, swarmed with stylists as he was fitted with a suit, airbrushed and tailored to perfection. He tried not to let his dread show on his face.

“Yes, father, I know.”

“Good,” Gabriel said, eyes still fixed on his computer screen, “I expect you to make an appearance.”

Adrien bit back his protest. “Yes, father, I know that, too.”

This was normal. He usually had to make appearances at these sorts of things, dressed to the nines in the brand’s best menswear. And sometimes, if he was really unlucky, he had to bring along a date. Usually, it was some daughter of whatever designer his father was working with at the time. That was a mixed bag. Sometimes, the girls didn’t want to be there just as much as Adrien, and the two of them made a mutual, pleasant agreement to avoid each other for the night. Sometimes, they got along, and became friends. And sometimes, if Adrien was really unlucky, they got handsy. What was lucky, however, was the Gorilla taking one look and prying whatever girl tried to shove her hand up the front of Adrien’s shirt off of him and tossing her out on her ass. Even if she was sneaky, all it took was a single frightened glance at the bodyguard and there would be absolutely no more of that.

Adrien didn’t mind parties. He enjoyed talking with designers, and other celebrities that made appearances at these things, and many of the guests had known him since he was a young child. But he did mind when his father picked a date for him. He’d much rather take Nino and hang out, eating fancy hors d’oeuvres and just being regular sixteen year olds.

“Can I bring any guests?” Adrien asked, hopeful, but not expecting a yes.

“You are to bring a date.”

Ah. There it is.

Adrien’s shoulders slumped. “Do I get to choose this time?”

If Adrien did have a choice, and if it was a perfect world, he’d bring Ladybug. Just the thought of her, dressed to the nines, was enough to make his heart do backflips in his chest. Hell, just the thought of her had that effect. But, this wasn’t a perfect world, and Ladybug had a more important job than being his date to a silly gala. But, he could always take Marinette. His fondness for her ran bone deep, and her nervous smile and pretty, melodic laughter warmed his heart. It gladdened him that they’d been growing closer, and he enjoyed her company. She, the creative and bright baker’s daughter, was one of his very first friends, and he treasured that more than anything he had, treasured her.

“I already have a date selected for you.”

Adrien ignored the frustration bubbling up inside of him, pushing it down with as much force as he could, instead opting to nod passively, the only hint of his annoyance in the tightness of his polite smile.

“What’s her name?” He asked, reaching for his glass of orange juice, taking a drink.

“You may already know her, she’s one of your classmates. Lila Rossi.”

Adrien almost spat out his juice.

He sputtered inelegantly, forcing himself to swallow, but the juice got caught in his windpipe, making him cough roundly. He could feel Nathalie patting him on the back, offering him the glass for another sip, which he took, gulping down another mouthful of liquid.

His voice sounded strained when he spoke. “Lila?!”

Gabriel looked surprised at his son’s outburst, the lack of his usually impassive expression reflecting this. “Why, yes. She’s a good influence, and since you already know her, you’ll get along quite well.”

Adrien was incredulous. “Father, she lies— about everything.”

“Adrien, honestly. It is very unkind to say such things about your friends. You will be taking Miss Rossi to the gala, and that is final. I have already informed her mother, and Signora Rossi agreed. I will hear nothing more about it.”

Adrien wanted to say that he and Lila weren’t as close as his father thought, and that he’d appreciate it if he didn’t just set up dates without his say, but he also had enough sense to know that argument wouldn’t make a dent in his father’s decision. Adrien didn’t like liars, and he didn’t like how Lila treated people, but if his father said it was happening, it was happening.

As much as all of this irritated him, and as much as he thought that Lila might be involved with this decision, Adrien wasn’t going to do anything. There wasn’t anything he could do. He’d just have to endure her, glued to his side all night, lying about everything under the sun as she giggled and smiled and charmed everyone like a siren, worming her way into Adrien’s life even further.

Oh God, he was going to die tonight.

Without much more chatter, and a frosty silence, Adrien finished his breakfast and retreated to his bedroom to gather his school supplies. Tonight was going to be exhausting.

“Adrien!”

There she was, the second Adrien was stepping out of the car, running towards him with a bright, wide smile. She had obviously dolled herself up, dressing in a pair of white skinny jeans, paired with a pretty orange blouse with long sleeves, tied at the throat with an elegant bow. On her feet were a pair of soft brown ankle boots with a slight heel.

Adrien sighed, plastering on his best friendly smile, waving at her.

“Good morning, Lila.”

He tried to walk past her, searching the throngs of students entering the school for someone, anyone he knew, even an acquaintance, but there was nobody. Nothing at all this morning was going Adrien’s way. He took a deep breath in, walking on, and not pausing even when he heard the clack of Lila’s heels on the pavement as she tried to follow him.

She eventually caught up, grabbing onto his arm, forcing Adrien to give her his attention. He tried his best to give her a smile, and she smiled back, bouncing on her heels.

“Aren’t you excited for tonight?” She gushed, “it’s so awesome of your dad to ask me to be your date, do you think I’ll be able to wear a Gabriel Original to the gala? Have I ever told you about the time I exposed a store selling fakes? The real designers were kind enough to send me some originals because they were just so grateful.”

Okay, so Adrien was half right. He had no idea why his father had decided this, but he hardly had any idea why he did anything, even if predicting his changes in moods was like sixth sense to Adrien. It was hardly any use arguing with a brick wall, though, and that was something Adrien discovered long ago.

“That was kind of them,” Adrien said simply, not believing a word she’d just said, “and sure, tonight will be fun. I must warn you, though, these parties are kind of stuffy. I wouldn’t blame you for backing out.”

Lila scoffed, waving him off with a smile. “Of course I won’t back out, silly, and miss the chance to spend time with some of the biggest names in fashion? And most importantly, you.”

Adrien didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like he was a prime cut on display, or how close she was to him. He swallowed thickly, extracting himself from her grip.

“W-well,” he said, looking at an invisible watch, “we’re gonna be late to class.”

That was nowhere near true, but unlike Lila’s lies, a little white one like that was hardly anything to talk about, especially to get himself out of an uncomfortable situation.

Adrien took a deep, cleansing breath as he entered the courtyard, but he nearly toppled over when he bumped straight into Marinette.

She yelped in surprise, toppling over in a heap, peering up at him through tangled limbs. Her eyes went wide, a luminescent blush spreading across her cheeks as she scrambled to sit on her knees, rapidly straightening her clothing.

“Adrien!” She cried, “I’m sorry so— I mean I’m so sorry, I—”

Adrien chuckled, leaning down to pick up her dropped backpack, passing it back to her and offering a hand to help her up.

“My fault,” he said, “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

Marinette’s expression was a little dreamy as she took his hand. “Now that you’re here— I mean— I— I’m fine.”

Adrien chuckled awkwardly, endeared by her, helping her to her feet.

She was dressed warmly, for the changing fall weather, in a blue sweater dress that brought out the vibrant cerulean of her eyes, fitted snugly at her narrow waist with bishop style sleeves, cinched tight at her slender wrists. On closer inspection, he noticed that there were little white ribbons, hand stitched at the collar of the dress. It was unique enough in its design enough that Adrien knew she herself designed it. It was paired tastefully with white leggings and pretty blue and white flats that matched her dress.

As always, she looked perfectly adorable. Adrien felt his heart warm at the sight of her. She looked nice like this, he noted, not that she ever didn’t look nice. Her hair was in twin braids instead of pigtails, fastened with little white ribbons. She was the picture of softness and beauty, and Adrien felt himself smiling, his heart fluttering in his chest.

A guy can platonically admire his friend, right?

…Right?

“You look pretty today,” he said, before he could stop himself, and he watched her face get so red he was afraid she’d combust, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Good going, Adrien.

“Y-you look pretty— pretty today,” she replied, as if on autopilot, “I mean, handsome— u-unless you wanna be pretty, you can be… pretty.”

Adrien smiled. “Thanks.”

A few, awkward beats of silence passed, and Adrien was about to excuse himself to go find Nino when she spoke.

“So,” she said, voice tight, “Lila.”

Adrian sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You heard that.”

Marinette panicked, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen— I was just here, you know?”

Adrien waved her off. “No, no. Not your fault. It wasn’t a private conversation. And like you said, you just happened to be nearby. Also, just between you and me, I’d rather not be going with her, but it was my father’s idea.”

Marinette seemed puzzled by this. “Since when has your father even liked Lila?”

Adrien shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. They had some kind of chat, or something about something or other, but now she’s welcome in the house any time. I guess he started liking her after the whole Kagami incident. Or maybe it was after she charmed her way into the house to help me study. I haven’t really asked.”

Marinette nodded, her expression oddly sad, her arms wrapping tightly around her backpack.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, her eyes staying glued to her feet, “you should be allowed to choose your own date.”

Adrien scoffed. “Yeah, well he doesn’t see it that way. I’d rather be taking anyone else.”

You, he wanted to say, but that wasn’t an option, because she was one of his dearest friends, and that would definitely send the wrong message, right?”

Marinette cracked a smile, laughing ruefully. “If I had to spend an entire evening with Lila, I think I’d combust.”

“Oh, come on,” Adrien said, “she isn’t that bad. Y’know, once you get past all the lying. I think she’s just… misguided.”

Adrien noticed, for the first time, that Marinette’s face was paler than usual. Hidden by her makeup, sure, but where her foundation cut off, her skin was a touch paler than it usually was, and her eyes were tired. Furthermore, at his frankly weak and half assed defense towards Lila, she reacted in a way he didn’t expect.

In that she didn’t.

Usually, Marinette would say something about how Lila was a liar, or get at least somewhat annoyed or angry. That was to be expected. Marinette was an emotional girl who wore her heart on her sleeve. It was almost unnerving to see her not react at all to something she normally would’ve.

Instead, her gaze remained on the ground, expression tight, her shoulders rising and falling shallowly in an apathetic shrug.

“Have you been sleeping well?” Adrien asked, suddenly concerned at her unusual behavior.

Marinette blinked, finally looking up at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah, fine.”

Another beat, and she shifted uncomfortably. “W-we should class get— I mean, get to class.”

And with that, she turned on her heel, disappearing into the crowd.

Something was off with her. Adrien contemplated following her, but he refrained, watching her retreating figure. Her shoulders were hunched, making her look smaller, and it made Adrien’s heart hurt. She seemed even more nervous than usual, almost jumpy. She was usually jumpy, if something involved him, but never to this degree. There was something else going on.

Adrien intended to find out what that was.

And it wasn’t long until he did.

Talking to Alya, which was Adrien’s first plan of attack, went with little success. Alya told Adrien that Marinette was fine, just tired and stressed with new designs and schoolwork, though she did admit that she noticed something was off. However, she also said that when she confronted Marinette about this, the girl had simply brushed her off, assuring her that she was fine. Alya was worried before, but even more so now that someone else had noticed Marinette’s strange behavior. She agreed she’d keep an eye on Marinette, and that was it.

But it wasn’t. Adrien knew it wasn’t. Alya was smart, and she had the makings of a cutthroat journalist, so Adrien knew that when she said she was going to keep an eye on someone, she would do just that.

Adrien tried to keep his worry from his thoughts while he was in class, which had the usual banter throughout it, and there, Marinette seemed a little better, but she was still withdrawn. She spoke when spoken to, and didn’t even respond with her usual snark towards Chloé, but she answered questions when called on and smiled at jokes made by her classmates.

And, unusually, when Nino brought up going to the movies, Marinette declined.

It was during break that Adrien found out what was really going on.

He was passing the locker room when he heard voices. One of them was clearly Marinette, he knew her voice well. And the other was none other than Lila Rossi. She sounded nothing like she usually did, all sugar sweet; well meaning and pleasant. She sounded different.

“—that gala.”

“I know, Lila,” Marinette said, “he told me.”

“Oh, did he?” Lila replied, “then you know he’s taking me, as his date. He asked me himself, you know.”

Adrien felt his fist clench. Liar.

“No, he didn’t, Lila, stop lying. He told me that his father asked you to go with him.”

Lila laughed. It wasn’t a kind laugh. It was cold, unfeeling. Mean. “I’m sure he’s just saying that so he doesn’t hurt your feelings. But like everyone else, he likes me much better than you.”

“Why are you doing this to me, Lila?”

Adrien’s heart broke at the sound of utter defeat in Marinette’s voice. But mixed with the heartbreak for his friend, he was angry.

“Because,” Lila said, smugly, “I told you what would happen, didn’t I? I’d make sure that your life was miserable, that you’d have nobody left, and that you’d end up alone. After tonight, Adrien will be mine. And if you do anything about it, you’ll have more to worry about than just being alone.”

Adrien decided he was an idiot. All the signs were there. Withdrawn, poor sleeping, avoidance of social situations. Marinette was being bullied. How long had this been going on? What else had Lila done to Marinette? Why hadn’t she said anything?

Then, it occurred to Adrien that she had. Multiple times. And nobody listened. Everyone believed Lila instead of Marinette, calling her jealous, even when Lila lied more and more outrageously. It felt like a puzzle was piecing itself together as Adrien stood, thunderstruck, listening to one of his dearest friends get bullied.

She’s busy.

She needs to help her parents at the bakery.

I dunno, her grandma is in town.

She’s busy, Adrien.

I dunno, she said she was busy.

Adrien should have realized this so long ago. He should have put two and two together when she made an excuse and vanished after Lila was invited (or, rather, invited herself) to Alya’s party, or how she made every excuse under the sun not to even be in the same room as Lila when she could help it, keeping her head down when she did have to be within the other girl’s vicinity.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was being bullied by Lila Rossi.

Adrien felt like a horrible friend.

Fury was beginning to bubble up inside of him, threatening to spill over as he tried to even out his breaths, listening to Lila verbally abuse Marinette, his anger reaching an all out rolling boil when he heard Lila use an insult.

“You really think he’d want you? Stupid bitch.”

Lila’s venomous words rang out inside Adrien’s head, reverberating like a shout in a cavernous tunnel, only stoking his building fury.

“Um,” came Plagg’s voice from within Adrien’s jacket, “you’re really gonna let her talk to your friend like that?”

Adrien said nothing, ignoring the Kwami as a plot began to formulate in his head. Most of the people at this gala were probably people Lila had told lies about in her life. Adrien knew for a fact that Jagged Stone would be in attendance, much to his excitement, since Gabriel Agreste had designed many of his last tour outfits. And Lila loved to lie about Jagged stone.

But, unfortunately for Lila, Jagged Stone had a particular fondness for Marinette.

In one night alone, Adrien knew he could do a lot of damage.

At the sound of Lila’s approaching footsteps, Adrien hid behind a corner, out of sight as she exited the locker room. After she was gone, he slipped into the room himself.

Marinette was sitting on the floor, her head in her hands, narrow shoulders shaking with sobs. Adrien felt his heart crumble, dreadful worry and horrible, horrible sorrow overtaking his anger as he rushed to her side.

She started at the sound of his footsteps, scuttling back, but when she saw it was him, she was launching herself into his arms, desperate for human contact of any kind, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, tucking her head into the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

When Adrien found his voice again, he spoke softly, gently. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Y-you heard—”

“All of it. She won’t get away with this, Marinette.”

“No, no,” Marinette said, tearfully, “you don’t understand, she always does. She won’t leave me alone, and I can’t stop her. I’m gonna— I’m gonna lose everyone.”

“No,” Adrien said, a little more firmly than he meant to, but he was angry. “no, no, you are not. You aren’t losing me.”

Marinette buried her face in his chest, and Adrien made a promise, both to her and himself.

Lila Rossi was going down.

“So, what’s the plan of attack?”

Adrien glanced over his shoulder, his fingers sliding down the length of his necktie as he fastened it to his shirt with an ornate silver tie clip. “Huh?”

His fingers found the buttons of his vest, doing them up, then straightening the lapels of his jacket. His hair was perfectly styled, his face airbrushed and made up flawlessly. He looked like a walking magazine cover, and he smelled like designer cologne, as well as far too much money for one person to have. From the tips of his shiny black dress shoes to the top of his preened head, he looked perfect in only a way a team of stylists could make a person look.

“I said,” Plagg groaned, “what’s the plan of attack? C’mon, kid, I live for pettiness. You know that. Now spill.”

“Is it petty to get back at the girl who’s been bullying my friend?”

Plagg was silent for a second. “That’s the definition of pettiness. But justified pettiness. You get me?”

“Okay, then I guess I’m petty,” Adrien said, then paused, “wait, when have I been unjustly petty?”

The kwami scoffed. “Seriously? Anytime someone has the hots for Ladybug, you’re the king of petty.”

Adrien considered a response, but gave up. “Point taken.”

A knock at the door prompted Plagg to zip into Adrien’s suit jacket with a snicker, and Adrien had a feeling that Plagg was going to be enjoying this more than he was.

“Adrien,” came Nathalie’s voice, “Miss Rossi is waiting for you.”

Adrien took a final look at his flawless reflection, reaching up to tousle his hair, just a little.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

He followed Nathalie from his dressing room and into the sprawling ballroom of the Paris Le Grand, smiling politely at guests as he passed them. Lila was waiting at the refreshments table, a flute of sparkling water perched between her manicured nails.

She was dressed in an evening gown the color of a fresh peach. It was made of flowing crepe fabric, cinched tight at the waist. The neckline was low, revealing a tasteful amount of skin, with spaghetti strap sleeves, undoubtedly crossing at her back in an x-pattern. There was a slit on either side of the skirt, revealing her legs when she stepped forward, just a flash of them; hiding enough to be modest, but still revealing enough to be a little bit sexy. She wore strappy white high heeled sandals on her feet. Her arms were left bare, and her hair was fastened into a long French braid, worn tossed over one shoulder.

Adrien had to admit she looked lovely, even if his distaste for her had grown into detest in the last twelve hours.

Absently, he wondered how Ladybug would look in a gown like that.

“Adrien, hi!” Lila said, dark burgundy stained lips stretching into a grin.

She hurried towards him, catching his folded arm and tucking her hands against it. There was nothing wrong with the gesture, especially if she was there as his date, but the way she was standing so close showed a form of possessiveness Adrien wasn’t comfortable with. It told anyone who looked that they were a couple, which they most definitely weren’t.

Adrien forced a bit of distance between them, just enough to be respectful and impersonal, repeating the action when she tried to steal closer, after which she got the message.

“You know,” Lila said, taking a drink of her sparkling water, “the last time I was at a gala was when I was in Achu. It was Prince Ali’s birthday, and I was invited as his honored guest. He called me when he knew I’d be awake just to invite me, even though it was like four in the morning in Achu, then flew me in for the party.”

Adrien knew that was a lie. It was too tall of a tale not to be one, and it enraged him that his classmates would lap that right up. But Adrien wasn’t his classmates. Regardless, he forced a smile.

“That’s great, Lila. What’s a price’s birthday party like?”

Lila’s face lit up, undoubtedly thinking she’d snared him with that lie, her grin resembling a cat that got the cream.

“Oh my god, it’s incredible, especially as an honored guest. I got to wear the traditional dress of Achu, eat the food, and even dance with the prince. His other guests gave him all sorts of gifts, but he said he liked mine the most. It was just a handmade scarf, but he still appreciated it since I made it while doing all the traveling I was. He even gave me a gorgeous emerald necklace because he said it went with my eyes, as a thank you.”

Another lie. What kind of person gave gifts to someone else on their own birthday? And why would the prince of a tropical kingdom need a scarf? Adrien’s mouth twitched, but he hid it with a smile.

“That was so generous of him! I’m surprised you don’t wear it more.”

Lila chuckled. “Well, it’s so expensive that it would probably get stolen right off my neck if I did that.”

Adrien didn’t think the necklace even existed, but he didn’t let his doubt show. “So, your dress. It’s not a Gabriel, is it?”

Lila shook her head. “No, it’s a Lili Toussaint. She designed it specifically for me, you know.”

Adrien hid his grin. Bingo.

“I didn’t know you knew Madame Toussaint.”

A giggle, and her head fell to rest on his shoulder. Adrien tensed up.

“Oh, yeah, I did a summer internship as a model for her. We became great friends.”

“I see. How did that go?”

Lila leaned more heavily on him, and Adrien shifted uncomfortably. “Amazing. She’s super nice, it was a joy to work alongside a fashionista like her. She was even kind enough to design me a wrist brace to go with my outfits when I sprained my wrist while chasing down a thief that stole a poor old woman’s purse.”

That almost made Adrien laugh. Madame Toussaint was a dear friend of his father’s, who had practically watched Adrien grow up. She was like an aunt to him, and treated him and his father like family. But, unfortunately for Lila, Madame Lili Toussaint liked very few people outside of a collection of individuals Adrien could count on one hand, one of which included her purebred Pomeranian.

“Oh, really? I’ve worked with her as a model, too,” Adrien said, giving nothing away.

“I figured you probably had,” she said, “you’ve probably worked with so many more designers than I have.”

“Well,” Adrien said, “your career is still young. I’ve been modeling since I was a kid.”

Lila seemed to like this answer. “Yeah, you’re right. One day, I’ll be at your level. Maybe you can introduce me to some of your favorite designers?”

Not a chance, Adrien wanted to say, but he simply nodded.

Suddenly, Adrien’s bingo turned into a jackpot. Because there, standing in a sweeping, pale silk evening gown, absolutely dripping with what were undoubtedly real diamonds, was Madame Lili Toussaint herself. Her broad, elegant shoulders were wrapped in a faux fur shawl (she hated cruelty to animals, and went great lengths to make her brand cruelty free), her hands encased in long, silk gloves. Her hair was done up in an elegant French twist, pinned in place with large lilies, made up of silk petals.

Adrien said nothing, simply leading Lila along by the arm as she blathered on about how she had many interested parties regarding her potential line of handmade jewelry, so wrapped up in her lie and continuing to have Adrien’s attention that she hardly even noticed they were moving.

The very second Madame Toussaint saw Adrien, she broke away from her conversation to approach him, her lips stretching into a friendly grin.

“Adrien, darling,” she cried, eyes glittering, “you’ve gotten so tall! My goodness, you so look like your mother.”

She leaned down to plant a kiss on each of Adrien’s cheeks, chuckling merrily as she examined his appearance, brushing invisible lint from the lapel of his jacket, straightening his tie.

“Good evening, Madame Toussaint,” Adrien said, and she huffed.

“Bah! None of that formal nonsense, Adrien, you know I’m Lili to you. How is your father?”

“He’s well,” Adrien said, smiling, and he was genuinely happy to see Madame Toussaint. He just wished it could have been in circumstances not involving Lila.

Madame Toussaint clapped her hands together, smiling widely. “Oh, wonderful. I’m gladdened to hear that.”

“Yes,” Adrien said, then turned, gesturing with one hand to Lila, “surely you remember Lila Rossi. She modeled with you last summer, as an intern?”

Her smile dropped as she turned to take in Lila, her eyes calculating, then she turned back to Adrien.

“Adrien, you know as well as anyone I don’t take intern models,” Madame Toussaint said, “furthermore, I have never seen this girl before in my life.”

Adrien looked at Lila under the guise of seeking reassurance, but had to hide his smile when he saw her expression. If she looked like the cat that got the cream before, now she looked like the cornered mouse. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes wide, her cheeks pale. Adrien almost wanted to snap a picture, but that would be too cruel.

“Well,” Lila said, “I-I’m sure you just don’t remember me. I’m sure you worked with—”

Madame Toussaint scoffed. “Are you deaf, girl? I don’t take summer intern models, or whatever nonsense you told Adrien. And believe me, I never forget a face.”

She turned back to Adrien, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, all smiles again. “Adrien, my dear, you should seek better company. This young lady seems to have a penchant for lying.”

Lila looked like she was about to combust, but she quickly composed herself, slapping an obviously fake smile on her face.

“It was amazing to see you, Lili,” Adrien said, “will you be visiting us later on?”

“Why, of course,” Madame Toussaint said, laughing richly, “silly boy, thinking for a mere second that I wouldn’t.”

The conversation wrapped up shortly after that, with Madame Toussaint excusing herself to go find Gabriel Agreste, leaving Adrien alone with Lila once more.

“So,” Adrien said, “I take it she didn’t design you that wrist brace?”

“I-I’m sure there was a mixup,” Lila sputtered, but it didn’t look like even she was buying that, “I remember now, it was her representative, since I couldn’t work remotely. You know, with all the traveling. She traveled with us.”

Adrien knew for a fact that Madame Toussaint preferred to work personally with her models, and that the representative in question was, in fact, male, but Adrien said nothing. Lila wouldn’t be able to keep lying for much longer.

Because now, Adrien had Jagged Stone in his sights.

He was dressed in a sweeping leather trench, dripping with chains and dotted with glittering gold studs, worn over a deep royal purple pinstriped suit. On his feet were steel toed wingtip shoes, lined with studs along the edges of the metal plating. His hair was slicked back, his face made up even more extravagantly than it usually was. His entire ensemble was awesome, Adrien thought, but then again, he did have a particular fondness for black leather.

Jagged Stone was holding a smartphone in one fingerless gloved hand, speaking animatedly towards it, undoubtedly on a live stream. This couldn’t have been more perfect if Adrien had set it up himself.

“Lila, look,” Adrien cried, “it’s Jagged Stone! I’m a huge fan. We’ve gotta go over and talk to him. You know him, right? Will you introduce me?”

Lila’s complexion turned absolutely chalky as she took in what Adrien said, but she hid her unease with a woolly smile, which looked borderline alarming when her eyes were wide with panic.

“Of course, Adrien,” she croaked, “but— he might not—”

Adrien bounced on his heels, giving her a smile. “Really?! You’re truly the best, Lila.”

Before she could say anything else, Adrien was dragging Lila across the ballroom towards the rock star, even as the girl tried to protest.

“He looks like he’s busy, Adrien, maybe we should come back later.”

Adrien scoffed. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

But, heedless of what Lila said, Jagged Stone seemed pleased to see Adrien, his heavily lined eyes lighting up as he merrily walked over the rest of the way, draping a leather clad arm over Adrien’s shoulders. Adrien had to remember to breathe, taking two manual breaths and reminding his heart to keep beating.

“Adrien Agreste! You’re a friend of Marinette’s right? That girl is so rock and roll. If she’s a fan of yours, well, I am too. Say hello, kid, you’re live!”

That made Adrien’s stomach do backflips, since Jagged Stone had just said he was his fan, but he was here on a mission. Regaining his composure, Adrien waved to the camera, watching the chat function of Instagram Live go insane at his appearance.

“Marinette is awesome,” Adrien said, “I loved her design for your last album cover, I even got her to sign it.”

Jagged laughed merrily. “Did you now? I may have to get her to do that for me, too, yeah? I’m thinking of asking for her to design the next one, too, you think she’d do it?”

“I don’t think she’d let anything stop her,” Adrien confessed, and Jagged grinned widely.

The rock star straightened up, still resting a hand on Adrien’s shoulder as he hand turned, taking notice of Lila. He looked at her blankly, without any form of recognition, but still, he smiled politely.

“And who’s your friend, Adrien?”

Jagged turned the camera towards Lila, who was now white as a ghost, looking supremely uncomfortable. She waved to the camera anyway, trying her best to smile.

“Oh, don’t you two already know each other?” Adrien asked, feigning innocence, “Lila Rossi, she saved your kitten from an airplane runway, even though the jet engine burst her eardrum and gave her tinnitus.”

Jagged looked deeply puzzled, staring at Lila for a good few seconds in a mix of astonishment and confusion.

“Well,” he said, with an awkward chuckle, “deeply sorry ‘bout your ear, love, but Penny’s deathly allergic to cats, even though I do love the little buggers. I’ve never owned a cat in my life, ‘least not since childhood. Fang’s all I need now, yeah? You must be mistaken, Miss Rossi.”

Lila swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to calm her breathing. “E-excuse me, Adrien, I need to… t-op off my drink.”

With that, Lila turned unsteadily, heading towards the refreshments table.

Adrien pretended to be shocked, watching her leave with a dumbfounded expression.

“Well,” Adrien said, coughing, “I must’ve misunderstood her. I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, I didn’t mean to—”

Jagged chuckled, patting Adrien on the back. “Oh, no sweat, kid. Some people like to lie because they think it’ll make people like them. Don’t hold it against your friend, there, she probably just wanted to seem impressive to you, yeah? Besides, no trouble to me, I’m glad to meet you, and your… misguided friend. On the bright side, she can say she met me now and have it be the truth, hey? I wish her no ill will.”

He turned, winking at his camera, pulling Adrien in against his side for another shot together.

Adrien thanked him, promising to return later for an autograph, and then turned to go after Lila. He found her, hiding by the chocolate fountain, freezing like a deer in the headlights when she saw him coming.

“You feeling okay?” Adrien asked, and Lila didn’t answer for a second, busying herself with downing the contents of her drink.

“F-fine.”

Her voice was tight, barely controlled panic laced throughout it. She knew what had just happened. She’d been exposed, by a celebrity the entire class— no, the entire world loved, as a complete and utter liar. On a livestream. Adrien would be surprised if she even showed her face at school tomorrow. And if she hadn’t realized what Adrien was doing now, she would, without a single doubt, later.

“I think,” Lila said, “I’d like to go home now.”

Adrien pretended to be disappointed. “Oh, really? I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Lila forced a smile. “I’m a little tired. Maybe partying just isn’t for me, y’know? Pretty stuffy, like you said this morning.”

Adrien nodded, sympathetically as he could, before going to find Nathalie, who called a car to bring Lila home. Adrien waited with Lila for the car, and she was uncharacteristically silent the entire time, simply fiddling with her skirt, buttoning and unbuttoning her coat, and shifting her weight from foot to foot. Adrien played the attentive, chivalrous date when the car arrived, opening the door for Lila and bidding her farewell with a soft, easy smile.

The second she was gone, Adrien pulled out his phone. His Instagram followers had grown substantially, even from that one livestream, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that the tabloids were eating what had just happened up.

Who is the girl who lied about Jagged Stone?

And, to Adrien’s pleasure:

French Teenager to design Jagged Stone’s next album cover. Learn more about Marinette Dupain-Cheng here.

Adrien knew what he was doing the second he saw Jagged Stone live streaming. Was it petty? Sure it was. Was it a bit much? Yeah, probably. But nobody would believe any of Lila’s lies after all of that.

The damage had been done, irreparably.

With that, as if nothing was even wrong, Adrien tucked his phone back into his pocket, ignoring the raucous laughter from Plagg from his jacket. Shushing the Kwami, Adrien stepped back inside, intent on enjoying the rest of his (rather stuffy) evening.

Checkmate, Lila Rossi. She was finished.

#miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #Adrien agreste #marinette dupen chang #adrien salt #salt fic #miraculous ladybug salt #lila rossi #adrienette #My writing #not a reader insert #adrien x marinette #fanfiction #fanfic #mlb plagg #alya cesaire #cross posted on ao3 #lila rossi bashing #adrien has had enough

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doodles-psg-imagines · 8 months

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Am I the only one who thinks that Corset has some Joker vibes? Specifically the animated series version voiced by Mark Hamill.

Nah, you're not wrong. But I feel like he's more of a Joker-Riddler fusion because he has all of these plans and all these machinations and shit and he's not doing anything for the lolz like Joker does.

Doesn't mean they don't have things in common (vibes, fits, voice), but personality wise, I feel like Corset would clash with Joker hard.

#answered asks #not a reader insert

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thatboisus · 2 months

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maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

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ieirism · 7 months

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crybaby.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

setting: modern au

genre: smut and fluff

contains: brother’s best friend gojo, protective older brother geto, use of pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), unprotected sex, slightly mean gojo (but he ends up soft and sweet, I promise), dirty talk, overstimulation, mutual pining, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), cheesy and happy ending <3

summary: satoru had promised suguru that there'd be no funny business while he takes care of his heartbroken baby sister... but he's never been the greatest at keeping promises.

“Stop being so mean to her, Satoru.” Satoru looks over at his best friend, who's clicking his tongue in disapproval, with a nonchalant grin.

“Not my fault she’s such a crybaby, Suguru.”

“Come on.” Suguru shoots him a warning look. “That’s my little sister you're talking about.”

“Hey, hey,” Satoru laughs, raising his hands in mock defense. “You gotta teach her how to grow thicker skin. Not my problem.”

“Every time you come over, she ends up crying.” The black-haired man sighs. “Don’t be a jerk just for one moment, won’t you?”

“Mmh, no promises.” Satoru grins. Sue him, he’s simply too addicted to the way your face scrunches up indignantly whenever he teases you, the futile yet endearing clenching of your small fists at your side, and most of all, the uncontrollable blubbers that leave your lips as tears roll down your cheeks.

Years later, you’re still the same. Just a little crybaby coming apart at the seams, completely at Gojo Satoru’s mercy.

“S-Satoru…” The high-pitched whine of his name only elicits a laugh from the man between your legs, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

“Baby, you gotta stop movin’ so much.” Satoru’s large hands grip your thighs, holding them firmly in place as he continues to feast on your dripping pussy. “Gotta let me eat you properly.” He punctuates his point with a loud suck on your clit that has you mewling and twitching under his hold.

“T-Too much!” You sob, hands curling into the silky white stands on his head, tugging uselessly. “S’too much, S-Satoru…”

“You wanna take my cock later, princess?” He hums against your cunt, licking a hot stripe up your slit, chuckling as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. His gaze lazily travels upwards, greeted with the sight of you nodding furiously as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you plead with wide, teary eyes. “N-need you.” Satoru smirks.

“Then be a good girl and let me prep you,” he coos, before diving right back between your folds, enjoying the broken sob that leaves your lips as he draws zigzags across your swollen clit.

“I really don’t understand you,” Suguru bristles, frustration evident by the way his eyebrows furrow as he eyes Satoru.

“Hmm?” Satoru looks at him with feigned innocence. “Whatever could you be talking about, dear Suguru?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He sighs. “Those gifts you bought her… they’re worth almost a million yen. What the hell is wrong with you, really.”

“Well, you told me I made her cry.” The white-haired man shrugged. “I had to make up for it, didn’t I?” Suguru squints suspiciously, at a brief loss for words.

“...You are not normal,” he finally scoffs.

“Of course not,” Satoru agrees, unfazed.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna end up spoiling her.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Gimme another one, baby.” He’s faintly aware that if he makes you cum again, you really might pass out. However, he can’t really bring himself to be too concerned about that, not when he’s quickly becoming addicted to the taste of your dripping cunt and cries of pleasure.

“C-Can’t, I can’t — “ You sob, entire body shaking around his mouth; you’re so sensitive.

“You can,” he insists between hungry slurps, not letting any of your arousal go to waste. “Fuck…” You’re so sweet. Just how did he survive this long without having a taste of you?

“Please…” You’re still shy, trying your best to stifle your cries even as they fall in a steady stream from your trembling lips. Each loud squelch of your sopping pussy still has you cringing a little, not to mention the embarrassment that washes over you every time you catch a glimpse of your juices all over Satoru’s face.

“Don’t hold back anymore, sweetheart.” He reaches up to grab your wrists, pulling them away from your mouth even as you blubber out a weak protest. “Wanna hear you this time, say it loud. Say my name when you cum.” One more combined thrust of his fingers, deep into your hole with a flick of his tongue across your clit has you creaming on his lips for the fourth time.

“S-Satoru!” You’re unable to control the beautifully loud whine of his name as Satoru greets your orgasm eagerly, savoring every last drop of your release on his tongue.

“You made her cry again.” Suguru says, rolling his eyes as he approaches his best friend at their meeting spot.

“Huh?” Satoru raises a brow. “Haven’t even seen her since two weeks ago. What’d I do?”

“She’s sad you’re moving away.” Suguru tuts. “Can’t imagine why. Probably because she won’t be able to use you for your wallet anymore.”

“You implyin’ I’m just a wallet to her?” Satoru exclaims, a little offended. The black-haired man shoots him a deadpan glare.

“You know you’re not. But even you’re not enough of an asshole to use that against her.”

“It’s just college,” Satoru muses. “Kid thinks I won’t be back for her?”

“In two years she’ll be going off to college too.” Suguru shrugs. “She’ll get over you.”

“What a cruel thing to say.” Satoru laughs it off, ignoring the small flicker of jealousy that flares to life deep in his chest.

Satoru watches as your chest heaves up and down, in your effort to try to recover from the multiple orgasms he had just given you. You’re lying limp on your bed, unable to move save for the periodic twitching of your thighs.

“Sorry, princess, was that too much?” He’s teasing, but there’s a genuine edge of concern to his voice as he cups your cheek in his hand. You nod, a few tears falling down your face. “Aww, forgive me. You’ll forgive me, right?” In response, you tug weakly on his shirt collar, asking him to come closer. He relents, allowing you to drag him down towards you. Satoru’s about to ask what you need, before you suddenly tilt your head upwards to kiss him.

Satoru lets out a small noise of surprise as your soft lips press against his, hesitant at first, but deepening once your fingers find further purchase in his shirt, gripping tightly. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss him a little clumsily, still boneless from your release but Satoru doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all, of course, when your lips are so soft against his, and he can swallow every quiet whimper that escapes you.

“Satoru…” Your voice is raspy and small, but your eyes are wild as you cling helplessly to him. “A-Am… Am I ready yet?” His jaw goes slack in awe at the adorable, troubled expression on your face. Your lips are swollen into a permanent pout now as you look up at him with those wide doe eyes that always had him weak.

“...Think you are,” he heaves, realizing that he’s just as fucked out as you are. It takes everything in him to hold back the urge to just take you.

“She’s grown up.” Satoru raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the pictures that Suguru shows him. Your family had recently gone on vacation, so Suguru had been gone for an entire week, leaving his best friend and roommate all alone.

“That’s what you’re looking at?” Suguru shoots him an annoyed look.

“Oh,” says Satoru, glancing back at the picture. “Uh, nice waterfall.”

“One of the seven natural wonders of the world and all you can see is my baby sister.” Suguru exhales deeply.

“What? You can’t blame me too much. Kid’s changed,” the white-haired man shoots defensively.

“She’s twenty, not sixteen anymore. Of course, she’s changed.” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I know that, I just…” Satoru pauses, glancing back at the picture. You’re still tiny, only reaching up to your brother’s, and by extension his, chest. Your face has matured, though, baby fat gone from your cheeks. That didn’t stop you from being any less adorable, though — your smile is as radiant as ever. He can’t help but let a small smile of his own slip onto his face.

“Hopeless,” Suguru mutters in disbelief. “Hopeless, the both of you.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Satoru lets you unbutton his shirt, watching in amusement as your eyes narrow with focus as each button pops open, slowly revealing more and more of his skin.

“Um…” You’re nervous. It’s plain as day from the way your lip wobbles as your eyes sweep down the view of his chiseled chest and torso, only to end at the prominent bulge in his slacks.

“You sure you’re okay with this, princess?” He cups your chin in his hand, gently tilting your face to look straight at him. “Need to rest?”

“N-No!” You protest immediately, shaking your head. “I…” You glance back down at his erection, a flicker of desire in your eyes. “I need…” You trail off, unable to say it.

“Okay.” If he was feeling meaner, he would make you tell him exactly what you want. But he wants to be nice today, especially since you’ve already cried so much for him. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry, you’ll have it. Can you unzip me? Can you do that for me?” You hesitate for a moment. Satoru briefly wonders if he’s perhaps pushed you a bit too hard.

But then you’re reaching for him, small hands finding the top of his pants and slowly undoing the button. Your fingers close around his zipper, slowly tugging it down.

“Good girl.” He pecks your forehead. “Take me out of my boxers, alright?” As his angry, swollen cock springs free from his underwear, you can’t contain your gasp.

“Oh…” The soft sound leaves you almost involuntarily as you stare and wonder at how the hell that’s gonna fit in you. He’s thick and long, rock hard and dripping with pre-cum. You slowly wrap your own hand around his cock, lips parting as your fingers fail to meet in the middle. Your own pussy clenches in a combination of fear and excitement.

“See why I needed to prepare you, now?”

“Sorry to spring this onto you all of a sudden, especially since you just got into town.” Suguru sighs over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. If you’re not around to take care of her, duty falls on me,” says Satoru as he reverses his car out of the parking lot, heading to the location Suguru had sent him.

“Let me know when she’s home safe. Tell her I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, will do.”

A pause.

“And… no funny business, got it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I’m serious, Satoru. She just confronted her asshole cheater ex. She doesn’t need you drooling all over her right now.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not that desperate.” Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

His conversation with Suguru lies in the back of his mind, forgotten, as Satoru places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Lay back and relax for me, sweetheart.” You immediately obey, laying yourself down on your bed, heart beating fast in anticipation.

“S’gonna hurt, right?” you ask softly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve gotten you ready, see?” Satoru comforts you, brushing his fingers against the wetness still soaking your entrance.

“Oh.” Tears suddenly well in your eyes. “Um, s-sorry, it just always hurt with him…”

“What?” Satoru’s eyes darken, unsure if you mean what he thinks you do.

“He just…” You bite your lip, trying not to let your tears fall. “H-He just p-put it in, y’know?” His heart drops in his stomach. Two years, two whole fucking years with that asshole, and he had never given you proper foreplay? No wonder you were so sensitive and responsive to his touch, your body had never received the attention it’s always deserved.

“Baby.” Satoru squeezes your hand, fighting down the urge to find that asshole and beat him up. That could come later. Right now, he has to focus on you. “It’s not gonna be that way this time. Not with me. Okay?” You nod, squeezing his hand in return.

“O-Okay.”

It’s the first time he’s seen you in person in four years, and here you are in the passenger seat of his car, crying your eyes out.

You feel absolutely humiliated. You had called Suguru to ask him to pick you up from your ex-boyfriend’s house after you dumped him, but he had told you he couldn’t.

“I’ll send someone to get you. Hang tight,” he’d said.

You just didn’t know it was going to be Gojo Satoru, who hadn’t returned to your hometown since he graduated high school.

“I’m gonna bring you home,” Satoru had told you, getting out of the driver’s seat to open the car door for you. “Relax, okay? You’re safe now.” He had buckled your seatbelt for you before settling in himself, starting the engine without another word.

The car ride back to your house is silent, save for the continuous sniffles that wrack your body as you try your best to stop your tears. Satoru silently puts a box of tissues in your lap at some point, and your heart stutters at the action.

You’ve known for many years now, that you never got over your first love.

Clothes fully discarded, Satoru lowers himself on top of you, enamored with the way you shyly glance down at`his cock, gaze wavering for a moment before slowly looking back up at him, eyes begging for him to do something.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He brushes his fingers, tender and gentle, across your cheek. You nod, hand curling around his bicep.

“Kiss me,” you request, and he gladly obliges, leaning down to peck your lips.

“M’gonna go slow,” he tells you. “You want me to stop, hit me real hard — “ He smacks his own chest. “ — Right here. Got it?”

“I won’t,” you say bravely, eyes glimmering with determination. “I… I can take it.” Satoru laughs quietly.

“Alright, princess. Don’t act all cute, you’re just rilin’ me up now.” You smile, a little mischievously.

“Oh, you caught me.”

“Fuck…” Satoru groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna kill me.” His fat tip taps against your clit once, twice. You gasp, eyes going glossy as you feel your swollen pussy clench desperately around nothing.

“Satoru,” you plead. “P-Please…”

“I’ll give you what you need. Relax for me…” He aligns his tip with your entrance, prodding between your folds. Inch by inch, he sinks his cock into your warm, throbbing cunt, almost blacking out himself at the sensation of your tight, velvety walls clamping around his cock.

“A-Ah…!” You whine, gripping his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut. The stretch is almost too much, but the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim has you seeing stars.

“You okay?” Satoru pants, willing himself to stop from splitting you open on his cock to check on you.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, a-ah, please k-keep going…” Satoru rests his head in the crook of your neck as he continues to push himself in, enjoying the soft, labored whimpers as you take more and more of him, deep into your sopping hole.

“Almost there,” he coos. “Almost there, princess…” After what feels like an eternity, he finally sheaths the last of him in you, biting at your shoulder as he finally, finally feels exactly the sensation of being one with you.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Satoru places a glass of water in your hand as he leads you to your living room couch. You stubbornly refuse to look at him, letting the glass sit uselessly in your hand as you stare down at your lap.

He sighs, not sure what he should do. He’s never been good at comforting others, let alone his friends’ kid sisters. He knows you’re not a kid anymore, you’re a full grown adult, but the way you’re sulking and ignoring him says otherwise. Still, his fondness for you wins above all else as he takes the water back and puts it on the coffee table, letting you sit in silence.

”You gonna be okay by yourself?” he asks instead. Satoru doesn’t want to leave you alone, but he’s not sure if his presence will even help. He hasn’t been an active part of your life in years, and he has a feeling that this incredibly vulnerable moment isn’t the best time to barge back in. You don’t reply, twiddling your thumbs.

“Call me if you need anything,” Satoru says hesitantly. “You have my number, right?” No response. “I’m gonna write it down for you.” He finds a spare stack of Post-Its and does just that. You don’t react even when he sticks the note right on top of your forehead, in a shitty attempt to lighten your mood. Your deadpan glare, so much like your brother’s tells him it did not work.

“Suguru’s gonna be back tomorrow,” he tells you, taking the note off and soothing the annoyed crease between your eyebrows. “Go get some rest now, yeah?” You look away. Satoru sighs. Seeing you upset like this hurts him way more than he would like to admit. “M’gonna leave. Get to bed soon.” He pats the top of your head, just like he always used to do, which always made you whine when he messed up your hair. You’re quiet now, not a peep of complaint leaving you.

He really misses hearing your voice.

“Bye, then.” Satoru’s about to turn around and leave, but you do something that seems to shock both of you. Your fingers curl and grab onto the hem of his collared shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He stares down at you in surprise, trying to process the sight of your small, thin fingers holding onto him for dear life.

“Stay.” The one word was enough to crumble his self-control.

You’re struggling to adjust to his size; he can tell from the way you’re digging your nails into his arm and the trembling of your thighs around his waist. Satoru stays still, waiting for your permission to go any further, right hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

“Don’t stress yourself, baby, just tell me what you want, when you want it,” he murmurs against your neck, waiting patiently, torturously, for permission to move.

You’re so overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuffed full; Satoru is much bigger than your ex-boyfriend and yet, the feeling isn’t painful. It’s so good, a throbbing ache that extends outwards from your core all the way to the top of your head and the tip of your toes. You can hardly form thoughts, let alone words, as your pussy stretches around him, trying to accommodate the sheer size of his cock.

A few more moments pass, and you feel like you’re going crazy. The feeling of being so, so full is one that you’ve never felt before, but you think you’re already addicted. Your thighs flex instinctively, closing tighter around Satoru’s waist and pushing his cock even deeper, pressing right against your sweet spot. You mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, silently begging to be closer to him.

Satoru leans into the kiss you give him, groaning as your walls suddenly clench once around him, brain filling with nothing but white noise. “Fuck,” he grits out against your lips. “Fuck, baby, I don’t know how much longer — “

“Move.” Your command is quiet. Satoru almost wonders if he’s misheard you. But one look into your pleading, begging eyes confirms what you want. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls his hips upwards, snapping right back into you with one long, hard thrust. You cry out, nails sinking into his shoulder blades.“M-More,” you whisper. “Need more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Satoru’s at a loss for words and actions as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching up and bringing his head down to kiss him. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist to steady you, craning his neck to allow you better access — oh shit, what the hell is he doing?

He lets go of you like he’s touched something on fire, pulling back from the kiss. As your heels land back on the ground with a soft thud, he’s greeted by the sight of you looking like you’re about to cry again. “Wait — “ He reaches for you, but retracts his hand; he’s not sure if he can trust himself to stay in line. His heart is beating so fast, you had just kissed him, completely out of the blue.

Satoru knew about your crush on him when the two of you were younger. You started having feelings for him when you were thirteen and he was fifteen, making it painfully obvious. You followed him and Suguru around like a lost puppy whenever he came over, despite Satoru’s constant teasing.

He thought your actions were funny at first, becoming the root of his continued teasing. Despite still making you cry all the time, you always came right back to greet him with a smile upon his very next visit. After a while, Satoru looked at you with fondness, in the way that one would gaze at a small animal. You were harmless, sweet, and so very adorable.

Satoru didn’t return your feelings at the time. You were just Suguru’s kid sister that he liked to toy with sometimes. You were awfully cute when you were mad.

But now, as you look up at him with desperation and longing, his heart clenches faintly in his chest. You’re so, so beautiful — the pictures Suguru had showed him hadn’t done you justice in the slightest. You somehow look so enchantingly gorgeous at this moment, even with tears glistening in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

Would you hit him if he tried to wipe away your tears?

He never gets to find out, because you speak his name softly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Satoru leans down to carefully listen to what you have to say. “W-Want you.”

“So good, so fuckin’ good for me, princess,” Satoru groans, reveling in the dizzying heat of your pussy as he drags his cock in and out of your walls, fucking you at a steady pace. “You feel me in there? You feel me in your little cunt?”

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sob out between moans, each rough snap of his hips into you melting your brain into jelly just a little more.

“What a perfect lil pussy,” He chuckles as you squeal after a rather rough thrust, the loud squelch of your hole sucking him in echoing through the room. “No sane person in this world would ever give this up this tight wet cunt.” You whine at his filthy words, drool dripping out of the side of your mouth as Satoru continues to ram into you, faster, harder.

“Satoru!” You’re crying out his name over and over, legs wrapped firmly around his waist, pushing him deeper and deeper. “S-Satoru, I-I — “

“You likin’ this, baby? Tell me how much you like this,” he coos into your ear, hand reaching down to rub at your swollen clit.

“I l-like it s-so much, i-it’s so ahh…! I-it’s so good,” you sob out. You never thought sex could feel like this — you never understood why the people around you were so obsessed with it, especially with the treatment you received from your ex.

Now, though, as each rut of Satoru’s dick into your cunt kisses your sweet spot, you get it. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forget this feeling of being filled by cock so brutally sweet.

“Hold on.” Satoru had tried to protest, he really had. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend. Like Suguru said, the last thing you needed was any funny business. “Listen — “ He sighs out your name, making your bottom lip wobble. “You have to go rest, don’t be reckless.”

“Please.” You tug at his sleeve, staring at him with that puppy-eyed look that always gets you what you want. He really had spoiled you, hadn’t he?

“Not now,” he tried to reason with you. “You’re still hurting, you’re not in the right mind.” You glare at him.

“Who’re you to say m’not in the right mind?” you whine. “I…” You suddenly seem to lose your confidence, staring down at the floor. “...I only ever wanted you.”

“What?” Satoru stares, wide-eyed, at your confession.

“Know you don’t want me that way,” you continue, voice small. “But I… don’t care.” You sniffle. “Don’t care, Satoru. Just want you.”

And when you tug desperately at his shirt again, this time, Satoru is too far gone.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He growls into your neck, his pace picking up as he chases after his release, He coaxes you to join him, thumbing at your clit and cooing for you to “Let go, cum for me, c’mon. Cream all over my cock, princess.”

The only sounds in the room are a symphony of your moans and the slick sounds of his cock pushing in and out of your hole as a coil forms deep in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment. You feel tears stain your cheeks as Satoru’s pace increases, pounding into you so deep you can practically feel him in your throat.

“S-Satoru, I’m g-gonna — !” You cut yourself off with a loud, lewd moan, cunt clenching down hard around him as you come undone for the fifth time just this night. You swear you lose consciousness for a second, lost in the euphoric feeling of your release as your swollen pussy throbs in satisfaction.

“Shit..“ A few quick, shallow thrusts later, Satoru finishes as well, thick ropes of cum splurting into your womb, filling you with a warm sensation.

“A-Ah…” you whimper out, pussy fluttering weakly around his softening cock, which is still fully sheathed inside you. A white ring remains on his dick as he gently pulls himself off of you, cum dripping from your spent pussy onto the sheets. Satoru tuts, placing a pillow under your hips so you won’t leak.

You’re only faintly aware of what he’s doing as he leaves briefly and returns with a warm, wet towel, gently asking you to open your legs for him. You obey, but you’re so exhausted you can’t help it as your eyes droop shut. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Satoru leaning forward to peck your forehead, praising you for taking him so well.

You wake up a few hours later to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, making you squint a little as you sit up in bed. You immediately gasp at the ache between your legs, and the soreness racing up and down your body.

Memories of the previous night come flooding back as a sleepy groan sounds from next to you. Satoru stirs, awakened by your panicked sound, asking softly, “You okay, baby?”

Oh god. Shit. Fuck. You actually had sex with Gojo Satoru.

“Hmm?” He looks a little concerned at your lack of response, pulling you against him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You in pain? Sorry, did my best to clean you up and everything.” Only then do you realize that the place between your thighs is no longer sticky, and that you’re wearing a fresh set of underwear with Satoru’s unbuttoned shirt wrapped around you.

“...What did we do?” You whisper in a muddled mixture of shock and amazement.

“You regret it?” he asks carefully, pulling back a little to gauge your reaction. You shake your head vehemently, snuggling back close to him. You breathe in his scent, eyes fluttering closed. You feel so right at home in his arms.

“No.” You ponder for a bit. “But it’s never gonna happen again, right?” Satoru’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?”

“I know last night might’ve given you the wrong impression.” You swallow hard, trying to contain the feelings bubbling up within you. Satoru just looks so beautiful under the morning sun, his crystal blue eyes glittering in the light. You know you’re not mistaken, you’ve never been so sure about it — you love him. “I don’t… do this. Thank you for being with me for this one night, but…” you trail off.

“Hey, hey.” You’re crying again, and this time, Satoru wipes the tears off your cheek, cupping your face between his hands. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t want just this from you,” you continue vaguely, looking away shamefully. “But I don’t… I don’t expect you to want the same.” He stills at your words, trying to decipher them properly.

“You still in love with me?” He deciphered them spot on, but that doesn’t stop a humiliated squeak from leaving you. You’re huffing, face on fire with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

“F-Fine, whatever! You know already, so…” You look away, gnawing at your lower lip. “That’s w-why — “

“Don’t really know why you’re so upset, princess,” he cuts you off, pulling you out of the downward spiral he sees you’re about to fall into. “Think…” Satoru pauses to swipe at a tear at the corner of your eyes. “Still such a crybaby,” he can’t help but say, watching with amusement as you scowl at him with all the ferocity of an angry kitten.

“Ugh, jerk! Four years later and you still can’t take me seriously, God, why do I even bo — “ He cuts you off again, this time with a kiss. When he pulls away, he’s smiling gently, chuckling at your dumbfounded expression.

“Think I love you too,” he finishes. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.” A few moments pass.

“...Are you fucking with me?” You look him dead in the eye.

“Technically, I already did,” he replies cheerfully. You look at him in disbelief. “Okay, sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Let me spell it out for you.” Satoru holds you close to him, tracing slow, comforting circles along your back. “Be my girlfriend?”

You answer him with a kiss of your own.

Suguru sighs, fishing in his pocket for his house keys as he approaches the front door. He’s worried about you; although the bastard had cheated on you and deserved to have you dump him, he knows you’re still probably heartbroken.

Or at least a little heartbroken. Suguru’s aware you never really that into your ex, if your drunk phone calls about how much you miss Satoru were enough evidence. Hiding those from his best friend was tough work; he would have to sit in the bathroom or the closet with his headphones and speak as quietly and carefully as possible to not rouse any suspicion.

Either way, he knows you definitely need some cheering up right now. He’s brought you a box of cupcakes from your favorite bakery, hoping it would be enough to at least get you in a talking mood.

Imagine his surprise when he opens the door and the first thing he sees is Gojo Satoru. Not only is Gojo Satoru standing in his kitchen, but he’s wearing Suguru’s apron, a gift from you many Christmases ago. To make things worse, he’s nearly butt naked under it, only wearing a pair of boxers that are — wait a second, are those Suguru’s as well?

“Oh hey, Suguru!” If Satoru is nervous or embarrassed, he plays it off well as he turns around and waves, flashing the stupid, faded picture of Remy from Ratatouille on his apron right in Suguru’s face. “You hungry? Was just makin’ some eggs.”

“What the actual fuck,” Suguru grits out, putting two and two together as you choose that moment to wander out into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an unfamiliar collared button down that reaches down nearly to your knees. Satoru’s.

“S-Sugu.” Your eyes go round, stopping in your tracks. No one speaks for a moment. Satoru’s still happily cooking eggs. Suguru’s expression is stone cold. You’re staring at your brother with embarrassment written all over your face.

“Baby, you ready for food?” Satoru steps away from the stove to wrap an arm around your waist, smooching you on top of your head. You make a stuttered noise under your breath, glancing back at your brother.

Suguru’s smiling now, but not in the traditional sense. He looks almost maniacal as he slowly places the box of cupcakes on the table before locking eyes with Satoru. Finally, the white-haired man has enough shame for his casual grin to falter.

“What happened to no funny business?”

Satoru is forced to abandon the stove, running away from a fuming Suguru chasing after him with the first thing he could find on the dining table — a carrot.

“Sugu, stop, it’s okay — “ Your pleas fall on deaf ears as your brother is hell-bent on finding a way to murder his best friend with a vegetable. You sigh deeply, moving to go after them when you suddenly smell something burning. Your head snaps to where the eggs Satoru was cooking are now sitting blackened over the flame.

Needless to say, the first morning with Gojo Satoru as your official boyfriend was far from perfect.

Thankfully, you would have many, many more mornings with him, each more wonderful than the last, that this one quickly faded from importance.

But not from Suguru’s.

“I still remember,” Suguru says, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. “When I opened the door on that one morning, and you were not only in my house, but you were half-naked wearing my apron and my underwear — “

Satoru groans as the audience bursts into laughter at his best man’s speech, burying his face in your shoulder. You’re giggling right along with them, sparing your new husband a peck on the cheek as his best friend continues to tear him apart.

“Then you had the audacity to pretend nothing was wrong — “

Satoru knew he would never live this down, but he had zero regrets. Not when you’re sitting right next to him in a pretty white dress holding his hand under the table.

“Well.” Suguru looks over at him, raising a brow. “Got anything to say?” Satoru takes the mic from him, face splitting into a shit-eating grin as he says two words:

“Worth it.”

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #reader insert #female reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

9K notes · View notes

deathc-re · 5 days

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oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.

you want to go shopping? here's his card.

you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!

you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.

he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.

he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.

he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.

he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.

he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."

NANAMIN, BAKUGO, KIRISHIMA, FATGUM, IZUKU, aizawa, yuuta, armin, iida, iwazumi, sugawara + whoever else you want!

4K notes · View notes

swordsandholly · 1 month

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Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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