!

✧ 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

❃ day to day life w cowboy!frank

❃ cowboy!frank is an ass man

❃ shaving cowboy!frank's face

❃ mini friends to lovers playlist <3

❃ when this dumb lug of a lumberjack realised he actually loved you

❃ romcom enthusiast

❃ cowboy!frank eats pussy like a champ*

❃ panty sniffing*

❃ moodboard

❃ nicknames

❃ astronomy dork + small thoughts

❃ riding him*

❃ headcanons

❃ birthday

❃ tongue piercing + bgm

❃ the drive to the piercing place

❃ he’s such a flirt*

❃ breeding kink + dad thoughts*

❃ girldad <3

❃ breeding on the farm grounds*

❃ tits

❃ single mom

❃ spanking*

❃ shit talkers

❃ mama's butter

❃ what he’s like

❃ voice claim

❃ afternoon delight*

❃ merry christmas and a happy new year

❃ drunken confessions

❃ dr. doolittle

I could never physically describe how much I love this story, I beg of you please read it 🥹🤭

prologue

You’ve never been inside the famous club, The 141.

i. it's a new day, it's a new life

This isn’t where you expected to end up—stuck in some rundown motel with nothing but the clothes on your back.

ii. a collection of strangers (a series of secrets)

You can only describe them the same way you can the rest of the club’s workers—stunning.

iii. no proof except my silver tongue

You’ve never been to this side of town at night.

iv. the night was young (and so were we)

Surveying the competition turns out to be code for going on a club crawl and getting obscenely drunk.

v. she works hard for the money (so you better treat her right)

You don’t know what to expect from shopping with Valeria.

vi. would you give the devil this dance

You can’t let yourself be haunted by your past forever, and, unsure as you are, you know one thing to be true: You’ve never felt safer than you do around him.

vii. wise men say, only fools rush in

In the following weeks, you learn one very important thing: John Price is a relentless flirt.

viii. but i can't help failing in love with you

You don’t know how you feel as you kiss him. It’s a combination of emotions you haven’t felt in so long: relief, desire, comfort, joy. They all swirl together into the one emotion you’ve been chasing since your wedding. Safe.

ix. the rumor burned straight through the town (and as it grew, so did her vow)

Kyle doesn’t think much of you the day you first walk into the club.

x. everybody thought the truth had been caught (her reputation began to drown)

You haven’t looked at your wedding photo in years.

xi. screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing

Everything you’ve experienced in the past four months pales in comparison to how your heart shatters at this moment.

xii. it won't cost you much (just a single drop of blood)

Who knew rock bottom looked like standing before a wall of mirrors in a bespoke wedding gown?

xiii. little girl gone

You’re shocked into consciousness, startling awake in a pile of plush blankets and cloud-soft pillows.

xiv. nothing makes me weak now (you better run for your life)

The news of Price’s arrest—of your alleged murder—sends you into a state of shock.

xv. oh i know what that evil done (redemption ain't coming around no more)

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

Saviour Complex (II)

Yandere! Tangerine X Reader

Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3

Synopsis: One night, you're pushed straight into an incoming train, causing everything to go black. When your eyes open up once more, you find yourself in a completely different country and face-to-face with your favourite character whose demise was right around the corner. Too attached to the man, you find yourself hatching a plan to save him - unaware of the consequences.

Word Count: 7,232

Act 2 - A Quest to Die For

The Hornet was yet another assassin that boarded the train. She was able to infiltrate by dressing up in a large costume of Momonga, a popular Japanese cartoon character in the movie - it even had a whole carriage dedicated to it on this bullet train; a carriage which indirectly caused the death of the White Death's son by basically giving The Hornet a free pass onto the train. But, what can ya do?

Speaking of The Hornet killing the White Death's son, this was the exact scene where that occurred. Now, in the original scene, the seat you were in was empty - making it so that there was no possible way for any witnesses to chance upon the poison being stabbed into the Russian's neck - thus, nobody else had to die.

Now though, you were on the other side of the carriage, sat at the seats which were supposed to be vacant - making it so that you would most likely witness the murder and - knowing The Hornet - she would get rid of you too.

You had absolutely no chance against poison made to make your blood congeal, clogging your veins until you bled out from your eye sockets and every other hole in your body. Crimson substance gushing out of your mouth as you desperately tried to choke out your last words, regret for-

-nevermind. You had other fish to fry right now; the biggest fish at the moment being The Hornet.

You could always escape this carriage but that would make you look supremely suspicious to both Tangerine and Lemon.

Picture this, a girl you just met on this very train ride was sat near the person you were meant to protect for this very train ride. You then go off with your brother, leaving both of them alone for a few moments. Once you come back, the person you wanted to protect was bleeding out of his eye sockets and the girl you just met was now gone.

Yeah... not a very good look, huh?

But... you digressed.

Now... how were you going to get yourself out of this one? 

Leaving was a definite no-go. Staying was also risky but at least that way, you wouldn't lose Tangerine's trust if you played your cards right.

You just had to figure out a way to keep The Hornet from killing you too.

A puff of air left your mouth. This was very different to all those times in the past where you had to get yourself out of a very tricky situation. Back then, it was as quick as 'bang!' and the problem was gone. Maybe you should-

-no, no you shouldn't.

How could you even think of doing such a thing?

You swore to yourself- you swore never to do it again.

Bang, a noise reverberated in your head.

The first time you heard it caused a loud ringing to echo not long after, drowning out the rest of the world and zooming straight into the liquid splattered against your face; the liquid that stained your hands.

You couldn't bare to look at yourself in the mirror the next week, too haunted by the vision of the red that covered your hands and face. Every time you caught a glimpse of yourself, it was there, poignant and prevalent as ever.

Bang.

The second time you heard it wasn't as bad as the first - there was still a ringing, but it wasn't so loud; so quick to drown out the world around you. No - instead, it was just there in the background - persistent but not as provoking.

You still couldn't fathom looking at yourself in the mirror but at least the constant view of red splattered across your form had died down, slowly ebbing away from the confines of your mind.

Bang.

The third time was the most terrifying. Not because the ringing came back, or your hands that went from being slightly stained with blood to completely soaking in it - no. 

It was because you were so unbothered by it; as though you were getting used to the feeling; as though you were just accepting it as it was... as though you were learning to live with it.

The thought was horrific.

The thought terrified you.

And then, just like that- it was gone. No ringing, no red in the mirror - no nothing. Not even a single thought about how scary it was to think that way.

It was just all gone...

When you tuned back in to the movie, to this reality, you noticed a large form approaching this carriage - a large form belonging to a certain Japanese cartoon character. 

Your eyes widened as your chest heaved up and down at a more rapid rate, visions of the wedding scene with all the guests throwing up blood having flashed through your mind in that exact moment.

In an act of quick thinking, you tipped your sunhat over your eyes - careful not to have the gun fall out - before leaning your head against the window and steadying your breath as much as you could.

Hopefully, she'd buy the act.

The squeaks of her voice slowly grew louder as she approached, probably waddling her way over to The Son.

Then, the faint sound of skin pushing against fabric let you know that she was right next to him - probably about to inject him with the poison.

Your prediction was, once again, proven to be correct as muffled screams made their way over to your ears alongside a 'shhh' coming from a large costume that was right beside you.

A lump formed in your throat and you tried very carefully to gulp it back down.

Even as her squeaks faded away, you chose not to remove the sunhat from your head. Again, patience was key in moments like these. You couldn't drop your act until you were absolutely sure that you wouldn't get caught.

So you waited.

And soon, you heard two pairs of footsteps followed by a voice.

"Right, so, slight change of plans-

-ho!"

A pause.

Then another voice piped up.

"First his wife, now his son? That's a lot o' white deaths."

Ah, this was the scene where Tangerine and Lemon happened upon the body right?

If you recalled correctly, they should-

"'Ang on a minute." Tangerine said.

-huh? That line wasn't in the movie.

After that, he went silent, and you wondered what he was doing...

...that was, until, you felt the pressure on your head start to shift as your hat lifted up ever-so-slowly.

A light gasp left your lips as your hand shot up to clasp the ring as hard as you could, stopping it from moving any further before your head tilted up and your eyes met with that beautiful blue you were so fond of.

"Tangerine?"

"You alright there, love?" He rose a brow, placing one hand on your shoulder and causing the area to immediately feel all warm and tingly.

"Uhh, yeah." You desperately tried to restrain yourself from looking over at the hand he placed on your shoulder, not wanting to make it seem like you were uncomfortable - if anything, you were the complete opposite. "Did something happen?"

You found your gaze naturally trailing to the side, about to land on the bleeding eyes of the White Death's son. You were unable to do so, however, when your vision was blocked by your favourite character himself. He quickly sat down beside you, taking both of your hands in his own and unknowingly causing your heartbeat to spike up as your stomach fluttered from both the proximity and the contact.

"No, nothin' happened." He denied your words. "I was just worried about you is all. You 'ad a bit of a fall earlier, didn't you? Just wan'ed to make sure you were alright from it."

He was lying. You knew he was.

He was just trying to draw your attention away from the dead body on the other side of the train as his brother quickly dealt with making it seem like the guy wasn't dead.

You knew he was lying and yet, you couldn't help the warmth that flooded through your veins at his words.

"Oh... that's uhh, really nice of you." You looked to the side, gaze softening as a smile tugged onto your lips and your resolve for being on this train, your desire to save your favourite character, strengthened.

When your eyes returned to his form, you saw the softened look on his face and damn was it enough to make you melt.

Soon enough though, he cleared his throat and got up; quickly wiping the soft expression off his face.

"Well, if that's all, love."

You frowned, missing the feeling of his hands in your own. But... the show must go on, no?

He then turned to his brother and said, "we gotta make sure he doesn't step a foot off this train. You see the case? Deal with 'oever 'as it."

"Alright." Lemon responds. "How do I do that? Talk to 'im? Or like, talk to 'im." The second time he said 'talk', he opened his coat up by the slightest amount and reached a hand inside - no doubt signifying he was reaching for his precious gun.

Tangerine gave him an incredulous look before saying, in a tone leaking with sarcasm, "I dunno. Why don't you tell him about the story about how Gordon met Percy and how Percy's now bleeding from his fucking eyesockets!"

After he spat the sentence out, he immediately took off - going down one side of the train in hopes of catching the criminal who's so incredibly lucky, it was unbelievable sometimes.

With one last comment, Lemon went the opposite direction just as the train stopped.

Now... what were you going to do?

It wasn't until quite a while later that Tangerine's death scene would come up, you should probably spend this time planning on how you could prevent it.

Before you planned on preventing it, you had to recall how exactly it happened.

It was right after Tangerine got a call from one of the White Death's men warning him of what would happen if he made it to Kyoto; telling him that he would die as soon as the White Death got his hands on him.

Then, he entered the same carriage as The Prince and she put on an act to trick him into thinking she was an innocent girl. It worked at first. But then, he saw the sticker that Lemon put on her back.

See, Lemon was a huge fan of Thomas the Tank Engine. He often compared people to the characters in the show, hence why he was so good at reading people (or so he claimed). He always carried stickers of the characters in the show with him.

One of these said characters was Diesel. The worst of the bunch, a guy who always took it too far - the character you had to watch out for.

And that was also the very same character stuck onto the back of The Prince.

Thanks to his brother, Tangerine knew that Prince wasn't all who she made herself out to be and, because of his newly-gained knowledge, he put a gun to her head. 

Unfortunately, just as he was about to pull the trigger, Ladybug stumbled into the carriage and lunged for the gun after Prince acted, once again, like an innocent girl scared for her life. As the two struggled for possession of the weapon, a 'bang!' reverberated through the air...

...and then, blood sprayed out of the neck that belonged to your favourite character as he choked out a warning, trying his best to inform Ladybug of the deceptive individual he was trying to protect.

You still remembered screaming out a 'no!' when you first watched it, upset that your favourite character had just died. You didn't cry though - at least, not until later on; when Lemon stumbled upon the body, to be specific. The sight of the broader male seated beside the dead body of his brother as the slow, mellow song echoed in the background was just too much and, before you knew it, the tears cascaded down your cheeks like a waterfall.

You couldn't let it happen now that you had the opportunity to stop it; you wouldn't let it happen.

You were going to save Tangerine.

The only problem was: how were you going to do that?

His death was a complete accident, Ladybug didn't mean to pull the trigger; he wasn't trying to. 

How on Earth were you supposed to prevent an accident like that from occurring?

Maybe you could prevent Tangerine from ever approaching The Prince in the first place?

Before you could ponder on any further strategies, the sudden need to relieve yourself overwhelmed you.

A full bladder? Dammit, when was the last time you went to the toilet?

With a deep sigh laced in frustration, you pushed yourself up abruptly, grumbling under your breath about your human limitations as you awkwardly scooched out of your place between the seat and table.

Once you were fully stood up, your hands rose up to the ridge of your hat and you gave it a firm tug, fixing its place on your head as you felt a slight movement from the cold material laying under it. Once you were sure the weapon was secure, you started to walk down the aisle - heels clicking against the floor as you rushed out.

As the doors opened to the capsule between your carriage and the next one, your eyes flitted over to the toilet stall, cursing as you saw the colour red near the lock.

Occupied.

This went on for the next few carriages.

Then, you happened upon something.

"I didn't realise I was gettin' a babysitter to come cut my bollocks."

It was Tangerine, taking yet another warning call from the White Death's men.

"I'm a professional. We're making sure the case and his son are perfectly safe.

"Can I please go do my job now?" He continued and, if you recalled correctly, went on to cut off the man before he could continue speaking, with a tone heavy in sarcasm. "Oh, very kind of you. Thank you very much."

He then hung up the call before looking to the side and fixing himself up in the mirror - something which would have normally made you laugh had you not been bursting for the toilet.

It was then that he noticed Ladybug hidden in a side room and jumped.

"Fuck me! Jesus Christ." He cussed, placing a hand over his chest.

Ladybug then decided to pipe up with an unnecessary remark. "It's very rude talking on the phone, on the train. In Japan."

"This rude enough for ya, ya fucking prick?" He then pulled the curtain shut as harsh as he could. "Shove that fuckin' hat up your fuckin' arsehole, you 'ear me?"

He then turned around again and jumped once more when his eyes landed on your form.

"Fuck me! Fuckin' 'ell, again?!

"How long have you been standing there, love?" He continued.

"Long enough... look, I don't really care about what you, uhh, were on about." You confessed as you tilted your head to the side, eyes fixed on the stall behind him. "I just... need the toilet so, if you don't mind..."

"Oh, of course." 

He moved to the side, allowing you to finally gain access to the room you'd been needing for a while now.

You immediately wasted no time in rushing right inside, closing the door behind you and locking it before you went about your business.

Once you were done, you cleaned up and washed your hands before stepping out of the stall with a relieved sigh.

Now, you had two options here. You could either, a, go back to the carriage you came from - or, b, explore the train a little so that you could detect anything that may be able to help you in your quest.

On one hand, if you explored the train, you could stumble upon the perfect solution to your problem. On the other hand, this was a train filled to the brim with assassins that weren't opposed to killing you to get that one silver briefcase. You were too out of practice to risk it so, going back to your seat it was.

With a little sigh, you headed off - footsteps lighter than before as a sense of calm fell over you.

That sense of calm, however, was soon to be overridden by pure shock as soon as you entered a certain carriage containing a bar filled to the brink with alcoholic beverages and two people stood by the dead body of The Wolf.

"Oh shit." You whispered. "Wrong way."

Who was it that you stumbled across? Well, the very Diesel herself, The Prince.

The Prince narrowed her eyes at you before she turned to Kimura and ordered, "kill her."

"Are you fucking crazy?!" The Japanese man widened his eyes in disbelief.

"I don't suppose you want your son dying, do you?" 

The way she said the words so nonchalantly was enough to send a shiver straight down your spine. Seeing her in the movie was unsettling enough but seeing her act this way in real life? Damn, Joey King did an amazing job.

You couldn't spend too long praising the actress, however, as soon, the barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your head and Kimura was mumbling something with an apologetic look on his face. He was saying sorry in Japanese.

Ah shit.

Quick to react, you bent over backwards just as he pushed down on the lever of his gun - simultaneously causing a loud 'bang!' to reverbrate through the room.

The bullet managed to just barely graze your stomach, forming a cut which leaked red.

"Hm, interesting." You couldn't see her face but judging by her tone and whatshe just said, she was intrigued. "Are you one of the assassins the White Death hired?" 

You chose not to respond - instead opting to flick your feet upwards and collide your heels against Kimura's hand, kicking the gun out of his grasp and sending it flying through the air. You then used the momentum to flip upright once more, one hand reaching up to your hat to help stabilise it again.

Crouching down, your fingers stretched outwards, grazing the handle of the gun before flinching back as your heart beat picked up its speed.

Now was not the time for a mental breakdown.

With that thought it mind, your feet pushed your body up once more before you swiftly turned on your heel and made your way out of the carriage, gone just like the wind.

You rushed down the right way this time, eyes barely present in real time as they flashed through the events that just occurred to you.

You just had an encounter with The Prince and Kimura - and you were lucky that it was them and not The Hornet.

The Prince had no combat capabilities whereas Kimura was well-versed in it but had enough morale to not attack you back there.

You were so lucky to have run into those two of all the people you could've ran into.

"Note to self: be more cautious of the layout of the train." 

Soon, you stepped through the automatic doors that led to your carriage and, not too long after that, your eyes landed on two forms - one of which was caught in a headlock by the other.

This was the Ladybug and Lemon fight scene.

And it seemed like it was just coming to an end judging by how Ladybug was able to thrust his legs into the seat opposite him, escape Lemon's grasp and then grab his laptop and smash it against his head, instantly knocking him out.

It all happened so much more swiftly than it was depicted in the movie and you had to blink twice before properly processing what had just happened.

When you tuned back in to the world, you witnessed Ladybug adding the powdered substance to the Fiji water near Lemon and decided to approach.

"Woah, what are you doing man?"

Slowly, his gaze trailed upwards and his eyes landed on your form before they slightly grew in size.

"It's not what it looks like? Actually, it's probably exactly what it looks like."

A glint of amusement shone in your eyes as your lips twitched upwards. In order to fight back the smile that was inching onto your face, you had to take in a huge gulp of air before letting it out after holding it in for a few seconds.

Once you regained your cool, you continued speaking. "It seems like the tables have turned."

He gave you his own smile, sheepish and clumsy; full of awareness of the fact that he was just caught red-handed.

"So, what are you doing, big guy?" You asked, amusement laced in your tone.

"Look, I'm just trying to survive, okay, lady?" 

"I have a name y'know? It's Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm Ladybug."

You already knew that but-

"Nice to meet you too."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take a call." He took the cartridge out of the gun in his hands, eyes zoomed straight in on it.

"What are you doing with that gun?"

"Not keeping it for later use, that's for sure." He gave you a pointed look as he stashed the gun on the shelves at the top of the train.

"Touché." 

You then watched as he took Lemon's phone and used face ID to unlock it. Stupid that it worked even though the owner was unconscious but whatever.

After he checked the texts on the phone, he left in an abrupt panic - no doubt having seen Tangerine's texts informing Lemon that he was on his way.

That left you with Lemon's unconscious body laid against the table.

Now, you would slap him to get him to wake up but then he would immediately slap you back and you weren't too keen on getting slapped by a male with ten times your muscle mass. So, you simply stood there, one hand up to your chin with a half-contemplating, half-concerned expression on your face.

It was then that you heard footsteps to your side. You knew who it was so you didn't bother looking over, choosing, instead, to simply say, "he's only unconscious - not dead."

Tangerine rushed over, grabbing his brother's chin and lifting his head to observe his injuries. "Jesus Christ, he's 'ad a bit of a bosh, 'asn't 'e?"

His eyes then turned to you before slowly trailing downwards and landing on your abdomen.

You rose a brow. "What are you-?"

Before you could even react, he was no longer beside his brother and the sudden feeling of his rough, calloused hands against your own bare skin had your own gaze falling down as you caught sight of your newly-attained cut.

Oh right, you forgot about that.

"What 'appened?" He asked without straying his gaze from the slit in your clothes.

You were about to respond but winced instead when he pressed down further on the wound. He then slowly removed his fingers and you saw the blood that coated them; your blood.

"I, uhh, just fell on a really sharp rail, that's all." You dismissed his concerns.

"A really sharp rail? It must've been sharp enough to cut a fuckin' dick off, dahlin', 'cause that's a deep cut."

"It's not that deep."

The look he gave you after your words was the same look your sister gave you before you set off to work; the look that told you that they found what you just said utterly ridiculous.

He then guided you towards a seat, gently having you sit down before facing him as he crouched down - observing the wound with squinted eyes. 

Meanwhile, you held in your breath at the close proximity, hyper-aware of the fact that his hands were firmly clasped around either side of your waist, holding you with a sense of care running across his fingertips; a sense of care which prevented him from harming you. Just the thought that a guy like this, someone known for his aggressive demeanour and bad temperament, could handle someone like you, someone who he just met, with such gentleness was enough to cause your stomach to flutter.

You watched as he took out a handkerchief from his inner pocket, rapidly striking it through the air several times before carefully moving it over your stomach and pressing down a little too hard.

"Ack!"

"Ah shit." He cussed. "Sorry, love."

You just bit your lip and nodded.

After a few more pats against your skin, he pulled the cloth away.

It was clean, yes, but it wasn't covered - no bandaid to barricade the bood inside your skin or alcohol used to fully sterilise it. But, to be completely honest, you were just lucky that he cared enough to even treat your wound in the first place. He was an assassin, not a medic for crying out loud.

"Thank you." You breathed out, voice barely even a whisper.

He looked up, lips merely millimetres from your own as his breath mixed in with your and the hair that rested atop his upper lip just barely tingled against your skin.

If you moved even a little bit closer, your lips would meet.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined after he pulled away and cleared his throat, a tiny hint of red on his cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'd be a right dickhead to ignore a lady's wounds like that."

You pouted - he was a right dickhead for pulling away like that. What a tease.

He then parted with a brisk nod of his head, on his way to go find Ladybug if you remembered correctly. Too bad he wouldn't be able to after the male pays another guy to wear his hat and deceive the assassin.

You heaved out a sigh before leaning backwards, back falling against the window seat as your gaze shifted to the roof, eyes half-lidded in contemplation. Now that you relieved yourself and got away from The Prince and Kimura, you should finalise your plan to save Tangerine.

The scene just before his death shows him discovering the 'dead' body of his brother before receiving a threatening call for the nth time from his employer, causing him to grow agitated even further than before. This would make it so that if you wanted to stall him from finding The Prince, you would risk causing him even further annoyance and cause his feelings for you, whatever they were, to turn into utter loathing. Now, you wished you could say you didn't care so long as he survived but that wouldn't be true at all. You cared; very much so. He was your favourite character, after all - why wouldn't you care about how he felt for you?

You supposed you could stall Ladybug instead? Yeah, that could work.

But 'could' isn't sure enough. It's a word that implies whatever it's referring to has a possibility of working; you couldn't afford possibilities, you could only afford a hundred percent chances of working.

Just then, your hat shifted a little on your head and, with it, came the feeling of cold metal sliding down.

Your eyes lit up as an idea came to mind.

That's right! Your unloaded gun! As a back-up plan, you could swap out your gun for Tangerine's - that way you knew for sure he wouldn't be able to be shot in a tangle with Ladybug.

The only problem with that plan, though, was that the both of you had two different models of guns; he had a revolver whereas you had a pistol. How was he not going to notice the difference?

If you were lucky, the hysteria he goes into after finding his brother's dead body would be enough to cloud his judgement and you could slip the gun in grasp no problem.

You just needed to hope he wouldn't notice - at least, not until they actually pulled the trigger and nothing went off.

You let out another sigh and, quite abruptly, you felt something brush against your legs as a breeze flew over your form; forcing you to sit up in order to see what the cause of it was. You then caught sight of blonde hair disappearing down the carriage - blonde hair no longer covered by a grey hat. It's not too long after that you turn your head in the opposite direction after hearing the automatic doors open and reveal the frustrated form of Tangerine.

His brows were furrowed and one of his arms was covered by his suit draped over it. His previously slicked-back hair was now messier than before, giving him more of a roguish look. 

There was no doubt in your mind that your eyes turned into huge hearts as you gazed at him, lips pulling upwards into a large, dreamy smile that you were quite lucky he took no notice of - instead, making a bee-line towards his brother and slapping him awake while also earning himself, as you recalled, a slap straight back.

Tangerine then took a seat beside the broader male before raising one of his hands and rubbing it under his nose to check for blood. After confirming there wasn't any, he gave Lemon the side-eye before saying, "there 'e is."

"He got by me."

"Yeah, me too... I guess our best option now is, uhh, bring the White Death the man who killed 'is son."

Lemon turned to the other male, shaking his head. "Yeah, but glasses didn't do it."

You would've loved to continue watching their banter (those scenes were actually among your favourite ones in the movie) but a thought occurred to you; a thought which caused your whole form to freeze up and a chill to go down your spine.

When Tangerine went towards the carriage Ladybug was in, he discovered a bunch of suitcases blocking his way - forcing him to shoot them through a Momonga teddy so that he could get through without alerting passengers. When he did this, he released the Boomslang snake - the very snake whose fangs contained the venom that caused the death of the White Death's son. And now, that deadly thing was let loose in the train to freely roam and bite whoever it wanted.

Great, now on top of your quest to save your favourite character, you had to also look out for a dangerous snake that could take your life.

You let out a sigh before tuning back into reality, noticing Tangerine's form sat opposite and facing his brother on the other set of seats.

"We need to find that glasses twat like right-to-the-fuck now." He scoffed before letting out a long, drawn-out groan. "I'm gonna go up, you go down. Double back when you're done. If you see him, fuckin' deal with him, yeah?"

Ah, so they just 'tricked' the White Death's men at the station you just passed into thinking his son was alive, huh?

The both of the brothers looked from side-to-side before Tangerine said, "up is..?"

"That way." Lemon deadpanned before jutting his thumb in the direction towards the front of the train.

You watched as they both abruptly got up before Lemon started speaking once more.

"And look, be careful," you could barely control the smile trying to fight its way onto your face at the Lemon showed his brother, "something else is going on 'ere."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I still feel like there's a Diesel lurkin' about." Lemon looked from side-to-side.

"Swear to God, what'd I say?" Tangerine drew his brother's attention back towards him before repeating, "what'd I say? I said I'd fucki-"

"-shoot me in the face." His brother finished for him.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Thomas still taught me how to see people, read 'em for real."

"Yeah..."

"And I'm never wrong, am I?"

Your favourite character's gaze drifts to the side. "No."

"Glasses, he is not our guy."

"...okay." 

Tangerine didn't understand what his brother was on about now but you knew he would later find out exactly what he meant after coming face-to-face with The Prince.

You then witnessed your favourite assassin hand a gun to his brother. "Shoot first, come up with the answers la'er."

"Always do."

Lemon then took off, heading down the carriage before his brother called out to him again.

"Lemon."

"Yeah, man?"

"You be careful too."

The male with silver hair sent a wink his brother's way before continuing once more.

The moment brought you back to a time where you worried for your own sister's life after one particular job; a job which, for once, took away all of your carefree nature and replaced with an anxiety-ridden individual who couldn't even hold a weapon without shaking to the core. 

But... that was all irrelevant now. Your sister wasn't here and neither were you the person you once were back then.

So, with that thought in mind, you called out towards Tangerine - causing the male to turn your way with a raised brow.

"You're going towards the front of the train, right? Can I tag along? I'm feeling a little peckish right now and all the snack are at the front." You gave him a sheepish smile, one hand going to scratch the back of your head.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" He nodded, giving a little gesture with his finger before he began to walk.

You walked straight behind him, a smile showcasing all your joy spread right across your face.

"Hey, Tangerine?"

"Yes, love?" He gave a quick glance over his shoulder.

"You're such a gentleman, thank you for accompanying me." Your smile shined brighter, excitement from being with your favourite character seeping into your tone and into the hop in your step.

He sent you a soft look before nodding. "Of course, dahlin'. Can't leave a pretty lady like yourself alone, can I?"

He thought you were pretty...?

Your favourite character thought you were pretty?!

Did you die and get sent straight to heaven?

Uhh, well, maybe you could've?

No, wait, that was impossible. You'd done too much to go there.

"You're quite the looker yourself, y'know?"

He looked over his shoulder once again to send you a sly smirk. "That so?"

Suddenly, the intense look in his eye, partnered with that smirk he gave you, was enough for all of your confidence to flush down the drain as your gaze trailed to the side - unable to cope with the eye-contact.

"Oh, 'ere we are." His words caused you to look up and see that you were, indeed, where he wished to be. "I've got to stay here, dahlin', but the next carriage should be the snack one."

You gave him a brief nod before choosing to walk passed him, about to enter the next carriage before you casted one last glance over your shoulder to see his easy-going look had turned back into his agitated one as he faced the toilet.

Once you were in the carriage, you waited a little bit before you saw a certain blonde man enter after you. After he saw your form, however, he swerved behind you and peered over your shoulder.

It wasn't too long after that the brown-haired male emerged from the same door with a furious look on his face.

Ah, so you were being used as a hiding place?

Very well.

Tangerine's eyes laid on your form before they trailed behind you and landed on the other. After he saw his target, he took in a large amount of air through his nose.

"Look, love, I usually don't hit ladies but I won't fucking hesitate because I, for one, wanna keep my fucking limbs intact and I won't be able to if I don't get that fuckin' briefcase." The tall male glared down at you, pure rage boiling in his gaze, ready to spill over any second.

"Wow," Ladybug's voice chimed from behind you, "you'd hit a lady? That's a low blow, dude. Even for you."

"You fucking bastard." Scoffed the male with slicked-back brown hair in front of you, glaring at the blonde behind you with an intensity so harsh - you were sure that he would be a million feet under if looks could kill.

"Look," you raised both of your hands up as a small, nervous smile made its way onto your lips, "how about we settle this peacefully, yeah? I'm sure we can all talk this out."

"I agree with her." Ladybug piped in.

Then, Tangerine started slowly strutting over to you - facial expression shifting from the angered one he usually wore to a more neutral one you rarely got to see on him in the movie.

As he approached, you could feel your heart beat start to pick up both in pace and in volume - butterflies beginning to flutter around in your stomach with adamance.

Dammit, was now really the time for your stupid crush on him to be acting up?

Soon, he was stood right in front of you, face a mere centimetre away from your own.

And then, one of his hands rose up from his side, gradually approaching your face as two of his fingers extended out of his fist and slowly placed themselves under your chin; tilting your head up and causing a hitch in your breath.

"Love," he spoke quietly, calmly and in the smoothest voice you have ever had the pleasure of hearing. "Move aside and let me kill that fucking arsehole."

His breath mixing in with yours as the hair on his upper lip grazed your skin (for the second time that day) flustered you enough for you to pull out of his grasp and hide your head in your hands, hunching over slightly to do so. 

Fortunately for him, that slight hunch over was just what he needed to sock Ladybug right in the face.

"Agh! Fuck!"

And with that, their brawl continued.

Meanwhile, you decided to fully crouch down and shrivel in on yourself - too flustered to even think to stop the fight.

"Wait wait wait! I know who killed the kid!"

"I couldn't give a rat's arse, where's my fuckin' case?!"

They rolled carts straight into each other, hitting one another in the gut before grabbing jars and preparing to throw them at one another.

They both paused, however, when they heard the sound of the automatic door opening as a member of staff stepped in with a cart full of food.

After a moment of silence, you heard the woman ask if they wanted anything in Japanese.

"Oh no thank you, we're okay." Tangerine dismissed her with a little strained smile. 

"Oh I would love a bottle of water." Ladybug requested.

You felt a small smile crawl onto your face as you remembered the incredulous look Tangerine sent him after that sentence - no doubt finding it utterly ridiculous that he would ask for water in the middle of a fight.

"You know what? Do you have, uhh, anything sparkling? With bubbles?"

You heard glass clang as she rummaged through for exactly what he wanted.

"That's the one, thank you." And he proceeded to say 'arigato' in the worst-sounding Japanese you had ever heard in your life. "Bro, I just remembered I gave all my money to that guy to wear my hat and glasses."

Tangerine then let out a sigh, giving Ladybug a look that made you giggle as you peered through from your position.

"How much for the bo'le of wa'er, love?" He asked before she responded with a number and he gave her the money. "Yeah, no, your welcome. A thousand yen, that's ten quid for that bo'le of wa'er, mate."

She then proceeded to leave as Ladybug drank his newly-attained drink and you giggled some more.

"You sure you don't wanna talk this out?" He asked Tangerine to which he responded with-

"Not particularly, no."

"Okay."

He then swung the bottle straight at the other assassin, aiming straight for his head as it hurdled through the air. Before it could land, though, you shot up from your position on the ground, fingers lacing around the bottle and just about stopping it from hitting the man.

"Not," you said, "the face."

Tangerine gave you an appreciative look, which totally didn't make you squeal on the spot, before his expression shifted into one of pure rage and he charged at Ladybug, yelling cusses as he pushed him into the next carriage.

Meanwhile, you let out a sigh of relief. Well done you for saving the handsome facial features of ATJ.

Before you could wallow in anymore praises however, your eyes caught something moving in your peripheral.

Was that... the Boomslang snake?!

You screamed, rushing onto the other carriage and clinging onto Tangerine while he was in the midst of choking Ladybug.

Unfortunately, you had done this at the wrong time because it happened to be the moment where Ladybug hit the emergency button with his leg so that he could escape the grasp of the handsome assassin; the emergency button which caused the door to be ripped off the train, sending the three of you flying straight outside of it through the sheer suction of the wind.

And so now, here you were, clinging onto Tangerine's waist for dear life as you hung off the side of the train - the wind like blades against your skin.

Well, this was quite the predicament.

Tangerine says things he doesn't mean so don't take it to heart when he said he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. He would do way more than hesitate.

Previous Act | Next Act

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , bathing , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

uh so i never do this but maui is quite literally on fire and there isn't nearly enough care or consideration for. you know. Native Hawaiians who live here being displaced and the land (and cultural relevance) that's being eaten up by the fire. so if ya'll wanna help, here's some links:

maui food bank: https://mauifoodbank.org/

maui humane society: https://www.mauihumanesociety.org/

center for native hawaiian advancement: https://www.memberplanet.com/campaign/cnhamembers/kakoomaui

hawai'i red cross: https://www.redcross.org/local/hawaii/ways-to-donate.html

please reblog and spread the word if you can't donate.