The Jacket

Territorial Chat

Warning: It gets just the slightest bit graphic in there, so if you don't want to read then I will give you a warning before and after it is done. It is not smut by any means, but as I am trying to keep the K+ rating, I don't believe some of this scene fits with that rating. This warning also applies to people who have triggers dealing with s*xual ass*ult or s*xual ab*se, so please skip if you don't want to read. Don't force yourself to relive your own moments just because of something I am writing.

Disclaimer: The plot is mine. It's like the only thing I own period.

Marinette worked all through Sunday on the jacket, making slight alterations to her designs as she went. By Thursday night, she had it almost done. Chat hadn't been over once, which she once again overthought, thinking that he hadn't wanted her to kiss him, even though he kissed her the second time. She was dressed comfortably in a pair of leggings and a pink sweatshirt that one of her friends had gotten her for her birthday.

She tried not to think of the alley cat as she searched for her green thread. It wasn't with the rest of her thread on top of her desk, it wasn't anywhere on her desk, wasn't on the balcony or her vanity or her chaise. . .she had no green thread! She checked the time, saw that it was only 7:30, and ran out the door, hoping to make it to Mrs. Archambeau's shop before it closed.

She ran down the streets, arriving at the small shop minutes before it closed. She smiled at Mrs. Archambeau before racing over to the thread, locating the color she wanted before making her way to the checkout. It was cluttered with different fabrics and yarns, a small space open for the customers to place their supplies. She paused for a moment to just take in the building, from the cat laying on the counter to the slightly peeling yellow wallpaper, enjoying one of her comfort places.

She smiled at Mrs. Archambeau. Today the woman had her hair down, and it fell in silvery waves down her back. She was wearing a dress patterned with cats playing with yarn, and her green glasses were placed firmly on her nose, the beaded cord still around her neck.

"Don't worry about paying dearie, that blonde lad came in after you two had left and told me to add anything you bought to his tab, and he would pay for it later. 'That sneak!' she thought to herself. He knew she hated it when people spent money on her!

She sighed, thanked the old woman, and left the store. As she left she noticed that it had begun to get dark, despite the early hour. She kept her phone clutched in one hand, thinking that if anything happened she could simply whack the corner of it into her assailant's head.

She relaxed as she walked, however, letting the city of love overwhelm her. This was why she was completely surprised when a hand flashed out from an alley and pulled her into it. She could smell the stench of the man, and could hear his labored breathing had he held her flush to him. She could feel his pot belly, and his breath stunk of garbage. He had both of her arms pinned by her sides to prevent an escape, but she quickly tried to stomp on his foot. He seemed to be expecting this, however, and deftly moved so that she wouldn't make contact.

"Don't worry about fighting little girl," the man sneered, "Uncle Raphael won't hurt you. Just listen to what I say and nothing needs to happen, alrighty?"

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She felt pure fear wash through her. She knew what he was going to do to her. She had never wished more that her kitty would just appear in her life. The man dragged her further into the alley so that no one could see them, hiding them behind a large blue dumpster. The alley smelled almost as bad as the man, and trash was littered throughout it.

The man shoved her up against the alley wall, turning her around before pressing his filthy lips to hers. This kiss was the exact opposite of the one she had shared with Chat Noir. Chat had been gentle and loving, while this man attacked her lips, lust seeming to be the only emotion he was feeling.