“I really, really, want to kiss you,” he interrupted her so quickly, a gentle growl dragging through his tongue with his distraught agony clinging onto his shoulders as he thought about being the reason she’d be in said danger. He lowered his face to search for her bluebell eyes, “which makes this so dangerous, Marinette. And I'm afraid,” he swallowed the buildup of a knot choking him before continuing, “that I won’t want to stop there.”
“Then don’t.” She almost pleaded, her own voice alone infiltrating away any former intentions.
Someone was going to get hurt. Was it worth it?
“Marinette...”
“No strings attached,” she interjected quickly, breathing loudly as she pushed herself closer, her eyes searching about his face through the dim lighting as her hands reached to hold around his neck.
“But...”
“Kiss me, and don’t stop, Chat.” She sounded almost distressed, the strain in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.
“I don’t think I'll ever stop when it comes to you, Marinette.”
Part 1: (post) (ao3) (ff.net)
Part 2:
Adrien Agreste’s eyes couldn’t stop lingering at the young girl that would sit in front of him during lunch, or across the courtyard during break. The day wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, except for the few times that Marinette’s hand would reach to touch right above her chest as if to sooth the area, the fingertip of her middle finger drawing circles over it, and he’d remember the burning sensation of said fingertips. He’d get subtle flashbacks from that night and his cheeks couldn't help themselves but to get flustered.
Plagg had berated him senseless as soon as he got home and detransformed for that night, although he hadn’t been quite listening to whatever his Kwami had to say. He’d spent the following days simply eyeing the young girl from afar, exchanging their casual chatting throughout the school day. Trying his best not to draw any attention when his green eyes would dart down to stare at her pink lips, and the way her pigtails were neatly placed into hair ties; he could have extended his hand outwardly and reach his fingertips through her silky strands.
But if Adrien hadn’t known what he did know, he wouldn’t have ever suspected that underneath her white tee and thin blazer she wore the love bites he’d left, possibly already fading, and hating that soon she wouldn’t have proof of that night.
“Yo, dude, you okay?” Nino sudden inquiry interrupted Adrien’s thoughts, his mind just beginning to lose itself as he remembered said night.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, why?” He huffed a soft chuckle, trying to brush off his question as silly, as in “can’t you see I was paying attention to whatever Madame Bustier had to say,” when in reality his mind would fog at the memory of Marinette gasping so softly, whimpering his alter ego’s name so delicately.
It had been almost a week since he had seen Marinette inside her bedroom, always wanting to go back but just not knowing what would become of his visit. Although, he had such a vivid idea of what he wanted it to become. What he so desperately wanted to do to her.
He found himself wanting to touch every inch of her every time he was near her.
He could breathe in her faint scent of vanilla, the natural rose tint upon her cheeks making him want to act feral towards her. It worried him, making him anxious about not being able to stop kissing her frenzy this time, if he were to be alone with her again.
His hands twitched as he’d come to witness a few times her new act of “applying lip balm” – cherry ChapStick she claimed – as she explained that she didn’t want the weather to dry lips. But he knew better than anyone in that school that she shouldn’t worry about her lips drying at all. They were soft, and plumped, and pouty, that emitted the most divine sounds anybody could mutter just as she parted them slightly.
Adrien found himself stuck between having the urgency of wanting to see her and morally understanding that what they had both condoned into that night hadn't been the proper response. Not from his standpoint, at least, in the sense that he was Paris’ superhero and knew better; Marinette was just a fan, and although he was immensely attracted to her, he couldn’t allow himself to use his pedestal for his own benefit.
Still, he wanted to see her again. Tonight. To end things, of course, although he couldn't really say anything had started to begin with. They had just shared a few kisses; that’s it.
Opposing to Plagg’s advice, Chat Noir was now suited up with the excuse of patrol, in spite of his chase going directly towards The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie bakery shop; although he wouldn’t be using the front door.
He landed with a soft step on the balcony, quickly peering through her skylight once seeing that her bedroom lights were still on. He had been hoping for this much, considering it was almost midnight; knowing Marinette as he did know her, he was aware of how much of a night-owl she could be.
Chat Noir gently knocked on the latched skylight door, anticipating anxiously for it to open with a smiling Marinette welcoming him in. But he only continued waiting, noticing she wasn’t in bed and probably by the desk area, although he couldn’t quite see her.
There was a loud thump, and suddenly he could see Marinette’s empty desk chair rolling away, and he assumed she had probably fallen off. He couldn’t help but chuckle lightly to himself. It was funny.
He didn’t want to seem desperate, despite actually being desperate, but through the anticipation he forced himself to knock again as he crouched in place, waiting.
It took a few minutes, but his belt-tail erected just as he saw the young girl climb up to her loft and quickly on her bed to reach for the skylight. As soon as the latch was open, the cat boy swooped in, landing on her bed beside her, not wasting time as he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, purring quietly and delightfully.
Marinette winced, a wavering smile taking place as she nudged herself away momentarily, finding herself having to explain, “You’re cold,” when she noticed his knitted eyebrows stare at her with concern. Chat Noir grinned softly, forgetting the weather hardly affected him when transformed, but she was right, the weather had dropped pretty low since the morning.
“And you’re going to help me keep warm?” He inquired smoothly, already leaning towards her, shamelessly allowing the tip of his nose to skim against hers. There it was, the heavenly scent of vanilla he craved. So close, this time.
She was quiet, he noticed, with a subtle frown as she slowly pulled away from his touch. She wasn’t playing along to his silly antics this time, and was being rather serious.
He knew she’d probably be upset; he was just really hoping she wouldn't be. He kissed her in such a titillating manner, and hadn’t come back when he promised he would. The problem had been that he really wanted to come back.
He pulled himself away, watching her with curiosity and concern, his thumb and finger reaching to hook her chin to keep her head in place as he leaned closer.
“What’s the matter Marinette?” He sounded worried, his tone soft and low.
“You didn’t come.” She said into the drafty room, her tensed shoulder slouching as she glanced up at him. She shouldn’t be this upset, but he took so long to come back. “I really wanted to see you,” Marinette found herself scoffing so easily, it brought shivers down Chat Noir’s spine as he watched her eyes shut momentarily, amazed at how vocal she was being.
Her lower lip pouted slightly, like she wanted to say something else but kept stopping herself; and he couldn’t contain how cute she was, even now as she was upset at him.
“Marinette, it wasn’t that – I just didn’t know – “
“I asked you to come back,” Marinette quickly stopped his word-jam, pulling her head away from his grasp as she looked up at him with her eyebrows drawn together, showing how upset she was. “Why didn’t you, Chat?”
“Marinette,” he cooed with a soft voice, both his hands reaching to hold her elbows to draw her closer, just as she was moments ago, “I really wanted to come. But this...we can’t...you and I can’t be anything.” He wanted it to be clear that a relationship between then was close to impossible.
How would it work? She’d be in danger, and he couldn't risk it – he couldn't risk her.
“Chat I – “
“I really, really, want to kiss you,” he interrupted her so quickly, a gentle growl dragging through his tongue with his distraught agony clinging onto his shoulders as he thought about being the reason she’d be in said danger. He lowered his face to search for her bluebell eyes, “which makes this so dangerous, Marinette. And I'm afraid,” he swallowed the buildup of a knot choking him before continuing, “that I won’t want to stop there.”
“Then don’t.” She almost pleaded, her own voice alone infiltrating away any former intentions.
Someone was going to get hurt. Was it worth it?
“Marinette...”
“No strings attached,” she interjected quickly, breathing loudly as she pushed herself closer, her eyes searching about his face through the dim lighting as her hands reached to hold around his neck.
“But...”
“Kiss me, and don’t stop, Chat.” She sounded almost distressed, the strain in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.
“I don’t think I'll ever stop when it comes to you, Marinette,” he said back to her in a whispering tone, like it was a secret and anyone could be listening. His heavy eyelids were half-lidded, oppose to her wider ones, watching him watch her in a daze.
He had a mystifying blend of black cardamom smell to him, with a subtle hint of smoky vanilla, probably due to all the roof-hopping. She felt a shiver run down her limbs, and wanted to scream at the sheer angst she had not being able to see him outside of patrol as Ladybug. But he wasn’t kissing Ladybug. She couldn't kiss him as Ladybug. It wouldn't be right, morally, at least. There shouldn't’ be anything wrong doing it as Marinette, right?
No harm, no foul? Right?
Her mouth felt dry, and he was an itch that she was dying to scratch. “Chat Noir,” she breathed in deeply, trying to engrave him into her memory, “Kiss me already.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. Although, he had initially gone to try and stop whatever shenanigans they were getting themselves into. But when she asked very sweetly, her voice drenched in honey, so inviting – who was he to deny such a desirable request?
“And if I can’t stop?” He almost promised, simply leaning closer to her, watching as she shut her eyes in anticipation. She took another breath, eliminating any space the two, wanting him.
“Then...don’t.”
Chat Noir’s hands squeezed her upper arms just as he pressed his lips into hers, her cherry lip balm still faintly lingering on her lips. How was she so addicting after tasting her just once? Both of her palms dragged down to spread widely against his chest, as though she was trying to hold onto something while kissing him back, but there wasn’t any grip to his leather suit.
Her mouth opened wider than the first time he kissed her, her lips taking as much as they could of him. She mumbled quietly into his mouth, very much enjoying their lip-tussling. The tip of her tongue swiped his lower lip, licking him like she’d enjoy a cupcake’s buttercream. She only kept pushing herself onto him, feeling the burning sensation of her fingertips traveled north until both of her hands intertwined into the tousled patch of his blond hair resting against the nape of his neck.
Her fingers dug harshly against his skin and drag themselves into his scalp, unconsciously massaging his occipital bone, making his whole body want to levitate at how good it felt.
Marinette’s heavy breathing was suffocating him, in the best way. His whole body felt heavy, at the same time liquifying just as her pouty lips began to kiss about his face, dragging her mouth across his cheek until reaching his jawline. He hadn’t noticed how easily her body was getting atop him just as he allowed himself to fall back onto her pillows.
Her sloppy kisses made him purr merrily; his boots pointing outwardly in trying to contain his happiness. His ears blocked out any other sound that weren’t her, composed to listen to the soft accidental moans she’d make against his skin, or the sharp inhale through her nostrils before crashing his lips against hers.
His gloved hands went to wrap themselves around her body, playing with the lower hem of her pajama top.
Their kisses deepen; her saliva tasting sweet as her tongue teased his lower lip again. He was on a trance when she suddenly pulled away, her hands releasing his head with the loud smack echoing in his ears, taking him longer than a second to open his eyes and try to remember where he was.
Marinette had begun shifting, easily mounting the cat superhero, a low grunt forcing itself from his dry throat as her thighs straddled his hips. He had no intentions of stopping her whatsoever. She sat so comfortably, staring down at him with such a mesmerizing gaze just as she squeezed him in between said thighs.
This was a dangerous game, and they knew so.
“Chat Noir,” Marinette called him, her voice just above a whisper, softly spoken just above in an inaudible murmur as she looked down at him with a such a bashful expression, that he wanted to devour her.
“Yes, Princess?” He found himself asking with a toothy grin, his palms spreading about her thighs, daringly proceeding to move upwards.
She wasn’t saying anything to him for almost a minute, trying to control her breathing before she quickly reached for the bottom of her shirt and swiftly removed it over her head to toss aside.
Chat Noir tried to sit up, taken aback by her actions, but she was quick to push him back down with a gentle shove. “M-Marinette,” he called to her, his green eyes spellbound by the way her breasts were perfectly cupped inside her light-shaded bra.
“Touch me, kitty cat,” she practically begged him, her hands searching for his to place onto each breast.
He gulped the knot on his throat, mouth slightly gaped, beginning to feel himself get hard as he let his hands be guided. He groaned audibly, his thumbs compressing to feel just how soft her breasts were, even with the material of her undergarment.
“Sometimes you take it too far, Chat. What will you do if I fall in love with you?” Marinette challenged, allowing the casual act of his kiss-on-hand take place before releasing said hand.
“Then I’ll simply love you back,” he vowed, leaning closer towards her with a toothy grin taking a stance as he winked at her.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as they stared at him with low confidence. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, silly cat.”
Part 2:
Adrien Agreste’s eyes couldn’t stop lingering at the young girl that would sit in front of him during lunch, or across the courtyard during break. The day wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, except for the few times that Marinette’s hand would reach to touch right above her chest as if to sooth the area, the fingertip of her middle finger drawing circles over it, and he’d remember the burning sensation of said fingertips. He’d get subtle flashbacks from that night and his cheeks couldn't help themselves but to get flustered.
Plagg had berated him senseless as soon as he got home and detransformed for that night, although he hadn’t been quite listening to whatever his Kwami had to say. He’d spent the following days simply eyeing the young girl from afar, exchanging their casual chatting throughout the school day. Trying his best not to draw any attention when his green eyes would dart down to stare at her pink lips, and the way her pigtails were neatly placed into hair ties; he could have extended his hand outwardly and reach his fingertips through her silky strands.
But if Adrien hadn’t known what he did know, he wouldn’t have ever suspected that underneath her white tee and thin blazer she wore the love bites he’d left, possibly already fading, and hating that soon she wouldn’t have proof of that night.
“Yo, dude, you okay?” Nino sudden inquiry interrupted Adrien’s thoughts, his mind just beginning to lose itself as he remembered said night.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, why?” He huffed a soft chuckle, trying to brush off his question as silly, as in “can’t you see I was paying attention to whatever Madame Bustier had to say,” when in reality his mind would fog at the memory of Marinette gasping so softly, whimpering his alter ego’s name so delicately.
It had been almost a week since he had seen Marinette inside her bedroom, always wanting to go back but just not knowing what would become of his visit. Although, he had such a vivid idea of what he wanted it to become. What he so desperately wanted to do to her.
He found himself wanting to touch every inch of her every time he was near her.
He could breathe in her faint scent of vanilla, the natural rose tint upon her cheeks making him want to act feral towards her. It worried him, making him anxious about not being able to stop kissing her frenzy this time, if he were to be alone with her again.
His hands twitched as he’d come to witness a few times her new act of “applying lip balm” – cherry ChapStick she claimed – as she explained that she didn’t want the weather to dry lips. But he knew better than anyone in that school that she shouldn’t worry about her lips drying at all. They were soft, and plumped, and pouty, that emitted the most divine sounds anybody could mutter just as she parted them slightly.
Adrien found himself stuck between having the urgency of wanting to see her and morally understanding that what they had both condoned into that night hadn't been the proper response. Not from his standpoint, at least, in the sense that he was Paris’ superhero and knew better; Marinette was just a fan, and although he was immensely attracted to her, he couldn’t allow himself to use his pedestal for his own benefit.
Still, he wanted to see her again. Tonight. To end things, of course, although he couldn't really say anything had started to begin with. They had just shared a few kisses; that’s it.
Opposing to Plagg’s advice, Chat Noir was now suited up with the excuse of patrol, in spite of his chase going directly towards The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie bakery shop; although he wouldn’t be using the front door.
He landed with a soft step on the balcony, quickly peering through her skylight once seeing that her bedroom lights were still on. He had been hoping for this much, considering it was almost midnight; knowing Marinette as he did know her, he was aware of how much of a night-owl she could be.
Chat Noir gently knocked on the latched skylight door, anticipating anxiously for it to open with a smiling Marinette welcoming him in. But he only continued waiting, noticing she wasn’t in bed and probably by the desk area, although he couldn’t quite see her.
There was a loud thump, and suddenly he could see Marinette’s empty desk chair rolling away, and he assumed she had probably fallen off. He couldn’t help but chuckle lightly to himself. It was funny.
He didn’t want to seem desperate, despite actually being desperate, but through the anticipation he forced himself to knock again as he crouched in place, waiting.
It took a few minutes, but his belt-tail erected just as he saw the young girl climb up to her loft and quickly on her bed to reach for the skylight. As soon as the latch was open, the cat boy swooped in, landing on her bed beside her, not wasting time as he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, purring quietly and delightfully.
Marinette winced, a wavering smile taking place as she nudged herself away momentarily, finding herself having to explain, “You’re cold,” when she noticed his knitted eyebrows stare at her with concern. Chat Noir grinned softly, forgetting the weather hardly affected him when transformed, but she was right, the weather had dropped pretty low since the morning.
“And you’re going to help me keep warm?” He inquired smoothly, already leaning towards her, shamelessly allowing the tip of his nose to skim against hers. There it was, the heavenly scent of vanilla he craved. So close, this time.
She was quiet, he noticed, with a subtle frown as she slowly pulled away from his touch. She wasn’t playing along to his silly antics this time, and was being rather serious.
He knew she’d probably be upset; he was just really hoping she wouldn't be. He kissed her in such a titillating manner, and hadn’t come back when he promised he would. The problem had been that he really wanted to come back.
He pulled himself away, watching her with curiosity and concern, his thumb and finger reaching to hook her chin to keep her head in place as he leaned closer.
“What’s the matter Marinette?” He sounded worried, his tone soft and low.
“You didn’t come.” She said into the drafty room, her tensed shoulder slouching as she glanced up at him. She shouldn’t be this upset, but he took so long to come back. “I really wanted to see you,” Marinette found herself scoffing so easily, it brought shivers down Chat Noir’s spine as he watched her eyes shut momentarily, amazed at how vocal she was being.
Her lower lip pouted slightly, like she wanted to say something else but kept stopping herself; and he couldn’t contain how cute she was, even now as she was upset at him.
“Marinette, it wasn’t that – I just didn’t know – “
“I asked you to come back,” Marinette quickly stopped his word-jam, pulling her head away from his grasp as she looked up at him with her eyebrows drawn together, showing how upset she was. “Why didn’t you, Chat?”
“Marinette,” he cooed with a soft voice, both his hands reaching to hold her elbows to draw her closer, just as she was moments ago, “I really wanted to come. But this...we can’t...you and I can’t be anything.” He wanted it to be clear that a relationship between then was close to impossible.
How would it work? She’d be in danger, and he couldn't risk it – he couldn't risk her.
“Chat I – “
“I really, really, want to kiss you,” he interrupted her so quickly, a gentle growl dragging through his tongue with his distraught agony clinging onto his shoulders as he thought about being the reason she’d be in said danger. He lowered his face to search for her bluebell eyes, “which makes this so dangerous, Marinette. And I'm afraid,” he swallowed the buildup of a knot choking him before continuing, “that I won’t want to stop there.”
“Then don’t.” She almost pleaded, her own voice alone infiltrating away any former intentions.
Someone was going to get hurt. Was it worth it?
“Marinette...”
“No strings attached,” she interjected quickly, breathing loudly as she pushed herself closer, her eyes searching about his face through the dim lighting as her hands reached to cup around his neck.
“But...”
“Kiss me, and don’t stop, Chat.” She sounded almost distressed, the strain in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.
“I don’t think I'll ever stop when it comes to you, Marinette,” he said back to her in a whispering tone, like it was a secret and anyone could be listening. His heavy eyelids were half-lidded, oppose to her wider ones, watching him watch her in a daze.
He had a mystifying blend of black cardamom smell to him, with a subtle hint of smoky vanilla, probably due to all the roof-hopping. She felt a shiver run down her limbs, and wanted to scream at the sheer angst she had not being able to see him outside of patrol as Ladybug. But he wasn’t kissing Ladybug. She couldn't kiss him as Ladybug. It wouldn't be right, morally, at least. There shouldn't’ be anything wrong doing it as Marinette, right?
No harm, no foul? Right?
Her mouth felt dry, and he was an itch that she was dying to scratch. “Chat Noir,” she breathed in deeply, trying to engrave him into her memory, “Kiss me already.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. Although, he had initially gone to try and stop whatever shenanigans they were getting themselves into. But when she asked very sweetly, her voice drenched in honey, so inviting – who was he to deny such a desirable request?
“And if I can’t stop?” He almost promised, simply leaning closer to her, watching as she shut her eyes in anticipation. She took another breath, eliminating any space the two, wanting him.
“Then...don’t.”
Chat Noir’s hands squeezed her upper arms just as he pressed his lips into hers, her cherry lip balm still faintly lingering on her lips. How was she so addicting after tasting her just once? Both of her palms dragged down to spread widely against his chest, as though she was trying to hold onto something while kissing him back, but there wasn’t any grip to his leather suit.
Her mouth opened wider than the first time he kissed her, her lips taking as much as they could of him. She mumbled quietly into his mouth, very much enjoying their lip-tussling. The tip of her tongue swiped his lower lip, licking him like she’d enjoy a cupcake’s buttercream. She only kept pushing herself onto him, feeling the burning sensation of her fingertips traveled north until both of her hands intertwined into the tousled patch of his blond hair resting against the nape of his neck.
Her fingers dug harshly against his skin and drag themselves into his scalp, unconsciously massaging his occipital bone, making his whole body want to levitate at how good it felt.
Marinette’s heavy breathing was suffocating him, in the best way. His whole body felt heavy, at the same time liquifying just as her pouty lips began to kiss about his face, dragging her mouth across his cheek until reaching his jawline. He hadn’t noticed how easily her body was getting atop him just as he allowed himself to fall back onto her pillows.
Her sloppy kisses made him purr merrily; his boots pointing outwardly in trying to contain his happiness. His ears blocked out any other sound that weren’t her, composed to listen to the soft accidental moans she’d make against his skin, or the sharp inhale through her nostrils before crashing his lips against hers.
His gloved hands went to wrap themselves around her body, playing with the lower hem of her pajama top.
Their kisses deepen; her saliva tasting sweet as her tongue teased his lower lip again. He was on a trance when she suddenly pulled away, her hands releasing his head with the loud smack echoing in his ears, taking him longer than a second to open his eyes and try to remember where he was.
Marinette had begun shifting, easily mounting the cat superhero, a low grunt forcing itself from his dry throat as her thighs straddled his hips. He had no intentions of stopping her whatsoever. She sat so comfortably, staring down at him with such a mesmerizing gaze just as she squeezed him in between said thighs.
This was a dangerous game, and they knew so.
“Chat Noir,” Marinette called him, her voice just above a whisper, softly spoken just above in an inaudible murmur as she looked down at him with a such a bashful expression, that he wanted to devour her.
“Yes, Princess?” He found himself asking with a toothy grin, his palms spreading about her thighs, daringly proceeding to move upwards.
She wasn’t saying anything to him for almost a minute, trying to control her breathing before she quickly reached for the bottom of her shirt and swiftly removed it over her head to toss aside.
Chat Noir tried to sit up, taken aback by her actions, but she was quick to push him back down with a gentle shove. “M-Marinette,” he called to her, his green eyes spellbound by the way her breasts were perfectly cupped inside her light-shaded bra.
“Touch me, kitty cat,” she practically begged him, her hands searching for his to place onto each breast.
He gulped the knot on his throat, mouth slightly gaped, beginning to feel himself get hard as he let his hands be guided. He groaned audibly, his thumbs compressing to feel just how soft her breasts were, even with the material of her undergarment.
“Sometimes you take it too far, Chat. What will you do if I fall in love with you?” Marinette challenged, allowing the casual act of his kiss-on-hand take place before releasing said hand.
“Then I’ll simply love you back,” he vowed, leaning closer towards her with a toothy grin taking a stance as he winked at her.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as they stared at him with low confidence. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, silly cat.”
Usually, Chat Noir didn’t stop by the Dupain-Cheng residence for the baked goods, but he couldn’t deny just how heavenly they truly were against his tongue. The cat-boy merrily sat on his friend’s chaise, with his legs crossed underneath him, munching as he held a plate of what-used-to-be-full of freshly-out-the-oven gingerbread cookies in his hands. It smelt like Christmas, appropriate considering the time of year; and although he knew it was probably the too-many baked goods, it gave his tummy a fuzzy feeling.
“Sorry, Princess,” he sighed contently, softly placing the plate on the floor as he began laying down, unfolding his body about the upholstered sofa, stretching his arms above his head while extending the tips of his boots outwardly, yawning exaggeratedly. “You weren’t fast enough to get your share of the cookies.”
Marinette huffed, stopping the concentration she had been giving her sewing machine as she worked on a project, turning her body to stare at the superhero lounging lazily. “Chat, you seriously ate all the cookies?” She wanted to be upset, but as she watched the boy nod with no resentment whatsoever, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes in an endearing manner. “One cookie, Chat. Just one.”
“I don’t think you would have liked them very much. Too gingery.”
Marinette Dupain-Chen was pregnant, she just hadn’t told anyone, yet.
They’ve had pregnancy scares before, but that’s all they were: scares. The tests always came back negative. This one wasn’t like those times.
Marinette Dupain-Chen was pregnant, she just hadn’t told anyone, yet.
Adrien Agreste sat at the foot of his bed, the large bed he had shared with Marinette for the past year – well, 11 months, two weeks, and five days, but who was counting the days until their move-in anniversary?
The young couple had been dating past a year now, and fresh into their relationship Adrien had been shipped to the states for a modeling campaign that was very important and would help elevate the Agreste name gracefully by association. Having meant, the young man didn’t have a choice but to leave at his father demand; although, he was allowed to come back during the weekends.
Long-distance dating right of the bat with Adrien Agreste had not been the way Marinette had foreseen her dating life to begin; not with the person she had been infatuated with since they were in high school. But alas, it was.
And so, each weekend the blond man would fly back into town and unpack inside the small apartment Marinette had been sharing with Alya. Unintentionally kicking Alya out, because as she declared, she didn’t want to hear all the sex they were going to have considering he couldn’t get some throughout the week. And although Alya’s teasing was just that, teasing, she wasn’t wrong.
As soon as Adrien texted his girlfriend that he was boarding the plane back to Paris, Alya was already packing her overnight bag to stay at Nino’s.
Marinette used to prep a “welcome back” meal to enjoy with the young Agreste, but a few weeks into their routine, she found ordering takeout was more of an ideal solution to Adrien’s neglect towards the meal because all he wanted to do was as soon as he walked through her door was relish on the young woman instead. His luggage was usually slumped and abandoned by the door to be needed much later.
Three months in, and Adrein was free. The modeling campaign had been a success, and although he was offered various extending deals that his father was expecting him to take, Adrien declined as he just wanted to be with his girlfriend for more than two days in a row.
Once Alya moved out of the apartment, Adrien moved right in. The conversation about moving in was almost nonexistent, as all Adrien said when he walked in for the last time as just a guest carrying only a duffle bag was, “I’m home.” And then he just never went away. Marinette didn’t mind – at all – and came to accept that she was now living with a boy. Her boyfriend.
It was great – life was great. He took the modeling gigs his father expected him to do, while Marinette was a full-time intern with the reputable company that was Gabriel after graduating top of her class to a prestigious fashion institute that sent Mr. Agreste an impeccable recommendation letter on her behalf; a very impressive recommendation letter that gave him no option but to hire his son’s very-talented girlfriend on the spot.
And, young Adrien was no kiss-and-tell, but his sex life was amazing. Of course, the couple was exclusive, and most of the time they didn’t bother with other kinds of contraceptive thanks to Marinette being on the pill. He had considered that to be safe enough. Which apparently had not been, considering he was now holding the positive pregnancy test he had shamelessly fished from their bathroom’s wastebasket.
They’ve had pregnancy scares before, but that’s all they were: scares. The tests always came back negative. This one wasn’t like those times.
He held onto the peed stick, pondering about the situation as he looked at the foggy positive symbol staring back at him. He wasn’t worried coming from a financial standpoint, but Marinette had just landed her dream job.
Still, his cheek twitched a lopsided smirk, his mind running wild for just a second too long as he imaged a pregnant Marinette. He laughed out loud thinking about how moody she probably was going to be, considering the mood swings she already had in her day-to-day life when her designs and projects weren’t coming along as coherently as she needed them to be. And Adrien didn’t know much about pregnant women, but he did know about their weird food cravings. Marinette didn’t already have unusual tastes in foods, so what was he supposed to do if she was wanting a pickle in the middle of the night. He knew pickles weren’t weird foods, but he just couldn't think of anything more random than pickles in the middle of the night.
Adrien smirked, coming to the conclusion that Marinette would look adorable as a pregnant woman.
Plagg flew into the bedroom carrying a usual piece of camembert cheese, and upon seeing his Kwami it was like a ton of bricks fell on him. What about Ladybug? Marinette couldn’t be pregnant and be Ladybug at the same time. Right? No, of course, not!
Adrien stood up quickly, stuffing the stick inside his jean’s pocket, feeling like he needed to do something. How was she feeling? Was she upset? Was that why she hadn't told him about it? He didn’t want the initial hurt of that thought to bother him; he recognized that although this situation did involve him completely, he needed to consider how Marinette felt.
Would he love to have a child with Marinette? Absolutely. But were they ready? Would she be willing to release the duty of Ladybug until necessary? And if not, what then? The blond man looked at his miraculous ring, thinking about her, and another ton of bricks fell through the sky right atop him.
A ring!
He wasn’t even married to her, and she’s already pregnant?
His father was going to murder him.
He was going to marry her – yup. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it’ll do something. And besides, it wouldn’t have been the first time Adrien thought about wanting to marry Marinette. Sure, they’d dated over a year, lived for almost one, but he was willing to commit the rest of his life to her had she asked him to. He worshiped the ground she walked on, and didn’t care to admit how whipped he knew he was.
The woman of his dream was going to have his baby and he was going to marry her, and then fuck her brains out again. It wasn’t like she could get pregnant twice. Right?
Adrien heard a slam coming from the living room, and he walked out to see Marinette carrying two stacked boxes as she walked toward her crafts room – Alya's old room. She was speaking under her breath as she walked, and without thinking he startled her by instantly reaching for the boxes and taking them away.
“You should have called me; I could have carried these for you!” Adrien said almost anxiously, now walking away from her and taking them the said boxes to the craft room himself, leaving a baffled Marinette staring at him.
She scoffed teasingly, not genuinely upset at his sudden action but rather confused, calling to him, “Adrien, I’m perfectly capable of carrying a couple boxes of fabric up two flights of stairs.”
Her boyfriend came back out, walking towards her to take her hand and gently pulled her into a kiss. She couldn’t help but peck him back, smiling suspiciously, although not minding the lip-action. She chuckled, kissing him a few times before trying to push herself away. To no avail, Adrien’s arms were quicker than her as they wrapped around her lower back to pull her back in.
“What’s the matter with you?” She finally asked, because although this was usually how handsy Adrien could get, even she recognized that it seemed that it was out of nowhere.
“Can’t I just kiss my girlfriend?”
“I mean you can.”
He laughed at her dubious demeanor, pulling her in to kiss her face senseless. His lips smacked her lips and nose and cheekbones and ear and eventually traveled down towards her jawline just before reaching the lobe of her ear where his teeth clanked against her miraculous.
“Okay,” she laughed along, her arms wrapped against the nape of his neck, her legs wobbly like gelatin but very much enjoying the way his lips skimmed certain areas against her skin, “there’s definitely something going on. What’s up, buttercup?”
Adrien led them towards the living room’s sofa, dragging her body down with his, eagerly tangling his long limbs around her body. She smelled sweet, and sweaty, but her vanilla scent was triumph. “Can’t you imagine being like this forever?”
“Uh, yes?”
“You know, for someone in love,” Adrien tsked, “you sound kind of unsure.”
“I’m not unsure about us, just...iffy –”
“Iffy?” He was appalled.
"Yes, iffy! What’s with the romancing, Agreste?”
Marinette was wrapped in Adrien’s arms, her chest tightly pressed against his chest as he was beginning to rest his chin at the crook of her neck, the puff of his nostrils tickling against her skin. It felt nice. Her smile was small, and contained, but the way he held onto her never stopped making her feel wanted.
“Marry me,” He finally said quietly into her skin. His voice was hoarse, almost raspy against said skin as his lips brushed ever so slightly against her as she remained silent for a second too long. It sent shivers down her spine.
The idea of marrying Adrien Agreste had been simmering at the back of her mind since she could remember. But hearing him utter those words was an out-of-body experience. She felt the corners of her mouth tugging into a wide smile, her throat itching to giggle out loud like such a teenager.
Yet, all she could mutter quietly was, “That’s seriously how you’re going to propose?”
“Is that a ‘yes’?”
“Where’s my ring?” She continued to tease instead, tugging herself away, but was proved like many other times that her strength was still no match compared to his.
“I knew you were just interested in my money,” he joked, rubbing his chin against her, merry to be as he was. Engulfed by what it was to be in Marinette’s arms.
“Yes, me and my small apartment just want you for the riches you’ll soon inherit, Mr. Agreste.” And just as she said it, her nose wrinkled disgustingly at the sound of saying Mr. Agreste, considering that was her boss’ name, and of course, her boyfriend’s father’s name.
And all Adrien could do was laugh hysterically at the vey absurd statement that came out of Marinette’s cherry-tasting lips. The lips he kissed again and again.
She gave into his giddy pestering, although it wasn’t pestering at all. She loved kissing him back just as much, and it never ceased to amaze her just how active he was. Of course, she was aware of his very strict diet that consisted of not only healthy eating but exercising. And although she was Ladybug she definitely didn’t exercise just as much; she considered carrying two boxes full of fabric up two flights of stairs the exercise of the day. Sometimes she found herself having to catch a second breath just to keep up.
“Sometimes you take it too far, Chat. What will you do if I fall in love with you?” Marinette challenged, allowing the casual act of his kiss-on-hand take place before releasing said hand.
“Then I’ll simply love you back,” he vowed, leaning closer towards her with a toothy grin taking a stance as he winked at her.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as they stared at him with low confidence. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, silly cat.”
Usually, Chat Noir didn’t stop by the Dupain-Cheng residence for the baked goods, but he couldn’t deny just how heavenly they truly were against his tongue. The cat-boy merrily sat on his friend’s chaise, with his legs crossed underneath him, munching as he held a plate of what-used-to-be-full of freshly-out-the-oven gingerbread cookies in his hands. It smelt like Christmas, appropriate considering the time of year; and although he knew it was probably the too-many baked goods, it gave his tummy a fuzzy feeling.
“Sorry, Princess,” he sighed contently, softly placing the plate on the floor as he began laying down, unfolding his body about the upholstered sofa, stretching his arms above his head while extending the tips of his boots outwardly, yawning exaggeratedly. “You weren’t fast enough to get your share of the cookies.”
Marinette huffed, stopping the concentration she had been giving her sewing machine as she worked on a project, turning her body to stare at the superhero lounging lazily. “Chat, you seriously ate all the cookies?” She wanted to be upset, but as she watched the boy nod with no resentment whatsoever, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes in an endearing manner. “One cookie, Chat. Just one.”
“I don’t think you would have liked them very much. Too gingery.”
“Aha. Says the cat that ate all of them.”
He seemed too comfortable, making her own droopy eyes want to shut, pretty tired herself. It was then that she began rolling her chair towards her monitor as she wondered about the time, not realizing just how late it was. She needed to be in bed now, and that meant it was time to kick her good ole’ friend out the window – even if she didn’t want to.
“Well, Chat,” she sighed, standing with a light stretch, “it’s time to call it a night.”
“You’re not seriously kicking me out because I ate all the cookies?”
Marinette laughed out loud at his offended tone, shaking her head, “Although it is a good enough reason, that is not why. But I do have school tomorrow.”
Chat Noir was quick to sit up on his knees, observing the young girl try and pop her back by placing her palms against her hips as she arched her pelvis forward. Her eyes closed momentarily as she scrunched her nose. He shouldn’t had been drawn by her simple movements, but he couldn’t deny that was.
“Need some help?” He called after her, a teasing tone – rather than a genuine one – skipped towards her just as she opened her eyes to glare at him.
She scoffed, her own playful grin spreading about her cheeks as she shook her head, “I’ve got it, but thanks.”
And as though having the need to play his part, the superhero too easily and too quickly crawled out the sofa to make his way towards her. Within a blink of an eye, her abnormally large eyes stared directly into his green ones just as he stood in front of her. “If you’d let me, I can help you feel good,” he promised, his voice hoarse and low, with his lips just a tad too close to hers. He seemed serious, no goofy grin faltering his demeanor as she felt the claws of his gloves softly skim down her forearm unexpectedly.
“Chat.” Marinette groaned, suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed at the intentional misinterpretation to his comment. “Out,” she demanded, attempting to back away from him, but her clumsiness never failing to take a part of her everyday life caused her to stumble backwards. She was casually rescued by the fast reflexes that were of the suave kitty-cat.
His hands hooked around her back just as she was about to crash against her floor, and her cheeks were steaming. She could feel the burning sensation dragging itself up her throat and over her cheeks towards her ears. Chat Noir simply chuckled delightfully, “Princess, you simply must stop falling me.”
Such an overused line, but that didn’t stop her heart from beating so hard against her chest. “Chat,” she sighed, very obviously annoyed as she attempted to escape his grip.
These interactions had begun feelings like a cat-and-mouse-chase, but if she were being honestly, she hadn’t attempted to stop his teasing advancements past their usual bantering. She never truly paid them much attention, because usually they weren’t much to them; now, they’ve began getting out of hand.
“You sure love saying my name,” he grinned shamelessly.
After a few wiggles, the young girl was freed, as the blonde boy swiftly pulled them up and quickly reached for her hand to kiss. “Oh, don’t be mad,” he sing-sang, “I was simply teasing.”
“Sometimes you take it too far, Chat. What will you do if I fall in love with you?” Marinette challenged, allowing the casual act of his kiss-on-hand take place before releasing said hand.
“Then I’ll simply love you back,” he vowed, leaning closer towards her with a toothy grin taking a stance as he winked at her.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as they stared at him with low confidence. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, silly cat.”
Marinette tossed and turned actually upset now because she had been dying to go sleep not too long ago when Chat Noir was still in her bedroom. If it hadn’t been for his very casual Casanova mannerisms, she wouldn’t have him running around her mind. It wasn’t that she was in love with Chat Noir, but she also wasn’t blind and could secretly admit that he was a very attractive superhero – even if just to herself.
But only as far as that.
But sometimes he was too smooth with his teasing words, she’d find herself wanting to believe them. She huffed, smacking her bed with a flat palm, groaning loudly.
“Marinette,” Tikki called, her voice in a hushed whisper having been woken up suddenly. “Are you alright?”
“He can be so- so- ugh!”
“You’re still upset about Chat Noir?” Her Kwami inquired, as the magical creature had been a firsthand witness to the development of Chat Noir’s flirtatiousness over the single year that he had found himself climbing into her bedroom. Their interactions began very causal and light, until they weren’t.
Marinette had never had a problem pushing him away with just the tip of her finger against his nose, but each passing visitation, she’d stutter and find herself wanting to melt into a puddle. But she didn’t like him like that, or so her holder swore.
Marinette wanted to lie and say ‘no’, but she was still very much upset. What game was he playing?
“You know, Tikki,” Marinette spoke into her dark bedroom, illuminated by her the uncovered windows and skylight right above her, “I bet he wouldn’t be as poised if...”
After a pause too long, Tikki called after her, “If what, Marinette?”
The young girl chuckled out loud in a very much “I can’t believe I’m going to do this” tone, as she dragged a palm down her face, answering, “Oh, nothing, Tikki. I’m just venting.”
-:-
Four days. Four days!
Why hadn’t Chat Noir paid a visit in such a long time? So, it wasn’t a long time, as they’d actually had gone much longer without seeing each other as civilian and superhero. But still.
It was past ten at night, Marinette noticed, a smile tugging at her lips as she clipped a few loose strands from the scarf she had been working on. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Alya, that she had been making Chat Noir a scarf as a Christmas gift. It was a very simple design; fully black with neon-green thin lines as a pattern, and a small paw in the corner. Very on-brand. She didn’t think it’d keep him warm, if he decided to use it as outwear, but it was the thought that counted.
She folded the scarf and neatly stuffed it inside the decorative paper bag, along with some catnip as an inside joke, where she had planned to gift it in. Tikki had gone to bed a while back, and Marinette had almost given in until she heard a very light knock coming from her skylight.
She didn’t want to smile as big as her lips were widening, but she couldn’t contain herself. Tonight would be the night Chat Noir had a taste of his own medicine.
“Two cookies? That’s all?” Chat Noir groaned when Marinette climbed up the stairs from her kitchen with a plate of said cookies and a glass full of milk. She knew he was the holder of the cat miraculous, but did he really have to play the role so seriously?
Marinette scoffed, handing him the dishes, “After what you pulled last time, do you really think I’m risking my cookies?”
He sighed drastically, “Alas, I will accept them. A short-lived joy, but joy nevertheless.”
She laughed, never a dull thing coming out of his mouth, responding with her typical eye-roll when it came to him. “Just eat them, Chat.”
It was past midnight when Chat Noir noticed his friend yawn softly, covering her mouth with both hands. Cute. She had been sitting on her chaise, her back against the sofa as she had been watching the cat-boy straddling her pink desk chair as he twirled. He had stopped not long ago when he accidently unbalanced the chair by drifting too far to the side, abandoning the chair all together after she began laughing hysterically at him. He hadn’t thought it was that funny. He, instead, casually reaching for a sketchbook that had been laying by her desktop computer and flipped it open.
“Feeling sleepy, Princess?” Chat Noir asked, taking a moment to stop skimming through the pages of endless designs to look up at her.
“Just a little.” She answered truthfully, not wanting him to leave. Not yet. She was on a mission.
“Maybe,” he cleared his throat, closing the sketchbook loud enough to startle her before placing it back on the desk. She recognized that gaze. It was like his whole persona changed, as though he was trying to catch his prey.
His lips easily turned into a smirk as he made his way to her, not wasting time and placing each hand on each side of her torso, trapping her in position. “...we should go to bed.”
Marinette wanted to laugh, she wanted to smack him silly, because the way he talked to her he definitely practiced in front of a mirror.
“I will be going to bed,” she said, “you will be going home.” This time she didn’t attempt pushing him away, as she typically would.
Stick to it, Marinette. Stick to it.
There was a swirl at the pit of her stomach, her eyes daring and confident as they tried to match those of Chat Noir.
“So, no sleepover?” He continued to tease, his posture lowering slightly. His mouth skid itself against her cheek, and she did shiver this time. Although very lightly, his lips bumped onto her skin, not stopping until reaching her jawline just before reaching the crook of her neck.
Odd. Usually, she’d stop him before he’d get this far.
He pulled away slightly, searching her eyes, but they were tightly shut with a veil of rosy cheeks on her face. She was nervous, but he’d always manage to make her nervous. That was why he loved teasing her so much. She was so easy to taunt, it was adorable. She’d smack him away, ask him to go away, and he’d go away but always came back.
She knew he didn’t mean any of those things. That was the set-up of their game.
When Marinette stopped feeling Chat Noir’s breathing on her cheek, she opened her eyes, staring at him behind her long eyelashes. He was so close.
She smelled of vanilla; intoxicatingly sweet. Her back was still pushed against the reclining of the sofa, now staring at him with doe-like eyes with her lower lip pouted down. She was wearing her usual pigtails, hovering messily over and behind her almost bare shoulders, as she waited, it seemed.
“Don’t tease.” She called after him, her voice low and soft and enchanting. Her whisper almost seemed like a fragment of his very attentive imagination. He could hear her breathing very clearly considering how close she was to him. She could feel his breathing press against her nose.
“W-what?” He called after her, feeling like he had been pulled out of a daze, not expecting to get this far. Never this far.
“You promised,” she muttered, “that you would...”
He could feel a knot begin to suffocate his throat. “Th-that I would...?”
Marinette’s eyelashes fluttered quickly, her now droopy eyelids shifting her eyes to stare down at his mouth. She pushed herself slightly forward, but not kissing him, just close enough to breathe him in.
“...not tease,” she finally finished her statement, her lips turning into a bashful smile. It was small and bashful but bewitching nonetheless. But before she could begin laughing and poke fun for always teasing her about such things, and relish on the victory that she finally did it back, Chat Noir bumped his mouth into hers.
Marinette’s eyes went wide as she felt his lips harshly press into hers, as one of his hands easily wrapped itself behind her back while the other took hold of her face. His clawed hand cupped her ear, with its fingers digging into her hair and adjusting her head’s posture.
His kiss was rough at first, taking as much as he could of her. His teeth scraped her top lip, gently tugging against, subtly whimpering at her. Her mouth widen so easily at his demand, pushing herself forward, ignoring the flutter of ladybug wings flapping at the pit of her stomach.
She should have pushed him away, she wanted to push him away – maybe? Her hands didn’t know what to do, as she hadn’t expected anything out of this game. She was supposed to be laughing at him, not melting like room-temperature butter.
