Red and Blue make Purple

I WANT THE K: 21 or 1 BLESS YOUR SOUL AND YOUR WRITING

……………….. SO I MAYBE FORGOT TO POST ONE THIS OVER HERE, DESPITE IT BEING MY PRIDE AND JOY
warning for hella nsfw shenaniganry~~
the no-longer-long-awaited sequel to bang bang
@mirthaculous is about 60% of the reason this exists, and probably 90% of why it’s so quality. @ladrienintensifies is at least half of the remaining 40% this exists, because she answered my ask once upon a time and i screamed very loudly and then sat down and wrote like 2k of this out of pure excitement to the tune of this bang bang cover.
(don’t underestimate the power of being noticed by someone you admire a lot okay it can be a very powerful motivator)
(on ao3) (a playlist) AGAIN, NSFW WARNING

21: Then there’s tongue

Adrien’s plan for the evening had looked something like this:

Crawl home after that torture of an akuma battle.
Take a very long, very cold shower, or at least one long enough and cold enough that he couldn’t feel the touch of Ladybug’s hands on his hips or taste her on his tongue or—
If that failed (as he’d guessed it would), pull himself out of the shower before he caught hypothermia and distract himself with physics and math homework until he achieved the same.
If that failed (which he’d suspected it might), start in on the rest of his homework, sleep be damned.
If any of steps 2-4 were successful, sleep. Else, start in on that extra credit work and hope for the best.

Nowhere in his outline for the evening had there been a caveat for Ladybug bursting through one of his open windows between steps 2 and 3, but Adrien was a flexible man. He could make this work.

Iiiiif “making this work” involved stepping on a stray page of homework with his wet foot and hopping awkwardly as he attempted to detach it.

Luckily, Ladybug was too distracted to notice. She was shooting a thoroughly panicked look in the direction of his rafters — no, not the rafters, the upper edge of the window bank — clinging to the corner of his window frame with limbs skewed in a way that would look awkward on anyone else, but on her managed to look like a battle pose.

In the middle of his paper-detaching dance he knocked into a table, which complained by scraping jarringly across the floor.

Ladybug’s head whipped around at the noise, eyes wild.

Adrien froze, one arm high above his head for balance and opposite foot stuck out behind him, dressed in only a bathrobe.

Ladybug blinked.

Adrien’s face burned. He cleared his throat and set his foot back on the floor, habitually setting his hand on his hip and twisting so the lamplight hit him in a decently flattering manner.

Gotta love model training.

“So…” he said, if only to break the silence.

…What did one say to one’s vigilante partner when said partner was in costume and he was in a bathrobe?

What did one say to the lady who had pinned him to a wall and kissed him senseless, not knowing he was her partner?

What did one say to the girl he had been in love with for years when he was alone with her in his room at night?

“Come here often, beautiful?”

Not that.

“…No?”

Adrien was moving to Peru.

His father would be angry, sure, but Adrien’s trust fund was his own and would easily cover a small residence and starting funds while he found himself a job, possibly singing the blues in a shady, smoke-filled night club.

It could be a nice life, if requiring a bit more cross-dressing than he was comfortable with. He’d never have to face anyone he knew ever again — it would totally be worth having to wear the slinky evening gown night club singers always seemed to have.

Before he could decide on the best agency to buy his plane tickets from, Ladybug interrupted his planning session with, “Why, was that an invitation?”

His jaw dropped.

Ladybug’s face twisted in a strange combination of a thousand-yard ‘oh god what have I done?’ stare and a cat-like look of ‘I meant to do that.’

Okay. He could stay in Paris, sure. It had a lot of career opportunities that didn’t involve his utter lack of musical talent or dying of lung cancer before he turned thirty.

“Sure, I-I guess?” he squeaked, voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word. “I mean yes. Of course. Any time.”

Like he’d ever say ‘no’ to having her around, no matter how joking the question was. Who did she think he was?

Her eyes went wide again — and maybe he was hallucinating it, but he thought he spied a blush rising under the mask.

Not Chat, evidently.

He was distracted from the funny little ache that thought brought on (you were supposed to recognize me, my Lady) by the way Ladybug’s look faded from shock into something that looked disturbingly, tantalizingly like a smirk.

Adrien’s stomach bottomed out.

Ladybug straightened out of her graceful sprawl. She spread her stance, cocked her hip, and dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, eyes hooded and considering.

Hummed, “Well, who could turn down an offer like that?” with a suggestive lilt and a glance up and down his bathrobe-clad form.

…He took it back. He couldn’t make this work, no matter how flexible he was.

The temperature of the room had risen a good twenty degrees from that sweeping glance alone — or maybe it was just the heat from the blush that had swamped him from scalp to shoulders. Either way, he was left feeling like he’d offered a hell of a lot more than an open window and a couch.

God.

Even if he couldn’t work it, Ladybug sure as hell could.

…In fact, she seemed a little too comfortable with all of this.

“Do this often?” slipped out of his mouth before he could censor it, and he cringed internally as Ladybug blinked.

Jealousy isn’t attractive, Adrien, he scolded himself. He’d only ever seen Ladybug go home with him… All right, and Chloé, and they’d taken shifts guarding Marinette that one time, and Kim, once, and Jagged Stone, and… well, they’d protected a lot of civilians in their homes, but it was almost always together and always for a job.

The thought that she might visit their rescuees without the excuse of work wasn’t a comfortable one — and the thought of what she might get up to during her daily life was even worse, inspiring the fleeting image of an unmasked Ladybug pulling a nameless, faceless classmate out behind the bleachers with a sultry smile.

Ladybug’s voice cut through his imaginings, jerking him away from the distressing scenario.

“No, actually,” she confessed, seduction fading into something wryer, something that made his heart stumble over the unexpected camaraderie of it. “You’re the only one.”

The tight grip of jealousy eased. He knew he was a stranger to her like this, out of costume, but it almost, almost felt like she was talking to Chat when she used that tone of voice.

Then she tipped her head and winked at him, and the moment slipped from camaraderie into something else. “You must really be something then, huh, hot stuff?”

Adrien didn’t have much of a response for that thanks to the way his fading blush redoubled and his tongue tied itself in knots.

Ladybug tracked the blush with interest.

Not. Helping.

“So,” he squeaked. “W-was there something you needed, or…?”

She froze, her gaze stuck somewhere around the base of his throat. “Oh. Right. I was… Um.”

It was his turn to watch with interest as her chill evaporated, her blush painting her cheeks dark enough to match his.

“T-testing your security,” she finally squeaked, eyes flicking down to his chest before up to his face. “I was testing your security.”

“My security?” he echoed. Is there something on my chest?

“Yup! It’s, uh, very thorough— did you always have cameras watching the grounds outside your windows?”

“Yeah,” he answered slowly, watching her try and fail to keep her eyes on his face.

“They’re in perfect working order,” Ladybug tacked on after a too-long pause. “I-I mean, I think they are. You would have to check the… the… um.”

She trailed off again, dark eyes fixed on the 'V’ of his bathrobe.

A thought floated up from the depths of Adrien’s overloaded mind: was he… was he distracting her?

The thought chased away the last of the effects of his cold shower, heating him up from skin to bone to gut to… well.

He was possibly, possibly distracting Ladybug with his bare skin.

Oh wow.

“The security tapes?” he suggested, thoughts tumbling over this new revelation.

He had the wild idea of asking Plagg to make Chat Noir’s costume entirely topless before he thought better of it: top-covering armor was kind of important when facing down akuma.

“Yes, those— …No, wait.” She smacked a hand to her forehead, wincing. “That’s not—”

The suit was skintight anyway. Making it topless wouldn’t change much.

…Maybe he could start wearing a bathrobe into battle?

Ladybug pulled her hand away from her bright pink face.

“I meant. I meant to check if you were…” She lost the end of her sentence as her eyes fell back to his chest, and swallowed, rubbing her hands on her thighs.

“If I was…?” he prompted, trying to figure out what he’d done or said that had led to this moment of Ladybug looking at him like that. She was staring at his bare skin so hard he was almost tempted to say 'my eyes are up here.’

(He didn’t, because if he said it there was a chance she might actually listen to him.

And that would be terrible.)

Instead, Adrien reviewed everything he’d done in Ladybug’s presence, which… wasn’t much. A lot of staring, a short heartfelt conversation about his mother, a few frantic attempts to keep her from realizing he was Chat. He’d mostly complied with his rescuing at the Louvre, too stunned stupid by the reality of her hands on his person sans kwami protection to do anything else.

He’d responded to her flirting and invitation for a kiss, sure, but she’d instigated that. He hadn’t done much of anything at all and somehow—

—somehow he’d wound up with Ladybug in his room, staring at him like she was hypnotized.

…Maybe that was the trick? Let her make the first move?

Ladybug took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her gaze still flickering up and down from his chest to his face. “If you were okay. I just wanted to make sure, because I left you in— in the Louvre, and…”

Actually…

Testing his hypothesis, Adrien slowly, ever so slowly, tilted his body so his robe slid over his shoulder, revealing a few more inches of skin.

“…when I came back—”

Ladybug’s eyes snapped to those few inches like he’d applied a powerful magnetic force, her words coming to an abrupt halt. She went very, very still, pupils dilated and looking for all the world like a cat about to pounce.

Then she shook herself, curling an arm around her stomach in a stilling gesture and breathing out a shuddering, “Uhhh…”

She followed it up with a heavy swallow and flicker of pink tongue that darted out to wet her lips, eyes glancing at his face for a fleeting second before going back to his newly-revealed collarbone and shoulder.

Holy shit.

What if…

Maybe he could…

He couldn’t believe he was pushing his luck like this, but…

He took a single step back, tilting the other way in the come-hitherest gesture he could manage — and had to stamp down the rush of unadulterated victory that crashed through his veins before it showed on his face, because she followed him. She chased him that single step.

“So,” she croaked, shaking herself again. “You’re… you’re well.”

He hummed an affirmative, pitching his voice low and letting the bathrobe slip just a little more as he took another step back.

Ladybug lurched forward almost unwillingly, as if she were fighting like all get-out not to pounce on him and eat him alive, and oh god did he wish she’d stop resisting.

“N-not…” She sucked in a breath, chest rising and falling with it, and went on with a breathy tremor that made his knees wobble. “Didn’t get on the wrong sides of any akuma.”

“Nope,” he agreed, just as breathy, and oh hey he didn’t know his voice could hit that pitch of smooth rumble.

He walked her back another step.

“You got home safe and sound.”

Another.

“Mhmm.”

Her blue gaze roved his form, and he could practically see the way she was mentally undressing him.

Fffffuck.

“S-so,” she whispered. “My job here is done.”

“Is it?”

“I-I should…” Her gaze fixed on his exposed throat. “I should go.”

Hardly believing his own daring, he suggested, “You could stay.”

And that was where something snapped.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Ladybug went from hopelessly enthralled to predator on the prowl. Adrien felt the shift crackle like static on every inch of skin exposed by his foolish taunting.

Oh shit—

Ladybug moved forward a single step. Adrien’s feet moved him back two, his damned self-preservation instinct taking him away from the only thing he’d ever really wanted in his life.

He was spared from cursing out his instincts too badly because she followed him that extra step — and the next three as well, her hips moving in a smooth roll that pulled his gaze with every step.

“L-Ladybug…?”

He could feel the way she dragged her eyes down his skin and back up again like it was a physical thing, and when they met his own, the shock of it reverberated in his bones.

Holding his gaze, she crooked one corner of her downright sinful mouth into a smirk that could have burnt hell to the ground.

“I could.”

Adrien took one more involuntary step back before his knees just. Gave up.

Ladies and gentlemen, please leave your panties at the door.

He only dully registered that he’d collapsed on the couch behind him, a side note his brain found much less urgent than the fact that Ladybug was still advancing on him, hungry smirk firmly in place.

She approached him with a rolling gait that was somewhere between a sashay and a swagger, breezing right past 'friendly distance’, through 'intimate closeness’, and into 'red alert’ as her knees hit the cushions and her hand slammed into the back of the couch beside his head.

Adrien flinched.

Ladybug’s smirk widened, pink lips curving and teeth flashing.

Adrien figured he’d be embarrassed about the noise that drew out of him later, when he could think again.

His eyes wandered away from her mouth, down her body, out of his control, only to be yanked back up by the touch of her fingers on his chin and oh god had she always been that close—

Her eyes glittered sapphire, cobalt, midnight blue, darker than the depths of the ocean and framed by thick, black eyelashes, and Adrien’s mouth went bone-dry.

“Doing okay there, hot stuff?” she teased, fingertip tracing a line down his burning cheek as she shifted her weight forward, crawling up the couch to cage him with her body.

Forget brain-melting. The whistling in the background was the sound of Adrien’s brain exiting his ears in the form of pressurized vapor.

“You look a little…” Ladybug trailed off and made a show of studying him, the flush making its way down his bare chest, and the very obvious bulge below his bathrobe’s belt.

She—

She licked her lips.

Forgive Adrien for feeling a bit faint.

“…Bothered.”

He blamed her voice.

Ladybug had the kind of voice that was naturally inclined to induce awkward boners at the worst of times, but the thready, smoky, sex-kitten purr she’d breathed that last word with against his lips would have done anyone in, much less the guy who’d been in love with her for years now. He blamed her voice — her tone — for the death of all rational thought.

He blamed her smirk. Blamed the exact, wolfish tilt to her lips, the way she was looking at him like her next meal — the way her teeth lurked like a threat — for his utter loss of self-control.

He blamed the way she was in his room — crouched over him, nearly straddling him as she smirked and eyed him up and dropped suggestive comments like nobody’s business — for the way he lurched up, wrapped his arms around her body and tackled her to the couch.

It somehow managed to be even less graceful than when he’d done the exact same thing earlier that day, but it took exactly no time at all for Ladybug to respond in kind. By the time her back hit the cushions her legs had snapped hard around his hips, her mouth opened to his with a noise that felt like a groan vibrating against his lips and tongue.

Whether she ground up into him or he pressed down into her, he didn’t know, but the room spun at the pressure all the same.

Adrien moaned something strangled, unintelligible, choked against her groan. The dual set of vibrations made his lips ache, and Ladybug’s thighs flexed around his pelvis. The feeling made his muscles lock up; he tore his mouth away from hers, blinking rapidly as he tried to force air back into his lungs.

She was too much. Just—

Just too much.

Touching her felt like touching a live wire, like touching a star. Like touching the girl he’d been yearning after, pining over, desperately wanting ever since she’d walked into his life and smiled at him for the first time.

She was just too much.

And then she licked her lips again, slow and deliberate, tasting his left-behind traces before drawing her tongue back into her mouth and humming softly.

Adrien slammed his eyes shut and considered begging.

Just how much of this did she think he could take?

How much did he think he could take?

Ladybug’s thighs mercifully loosened, letting her sink back onto the couch as cold air swirled in to take her place. Adrien took a moment to just breathe—

—only to stop dead as he realized why he was feeling so much air to begin with.

Fucking bathrobes.

Eyes snapping back open, he braced himself with one hand and fumbled to tighten his bathrobe belt. It hadn’t come completely undone, only loose, but he prayed he hadn’t just accidentally flashed his crime fighting partner and love of his life.

Please, please let him not have flashed his crime fighting partner and love of his life.

“S-sorry!” he sputtered, trying to wrench the knot tight with a hand that didn’t want to obey him, unable to look Ladybug in the eye.

“I didn’t see anything,” Ladybug promised, kiss-roughened and breathless and fuck—

She paused.

“…Unless you wanted me to.”

The arm Adrien was supporting himself with wobbled.

He wasn’t going to recover from this, was he?

“Uh,” he managed, proud of himself for making any kind of noise at all after that.

Ladybug’s mouth quirked up at the corner. Releasing his neck, her hands dragged over his shoulders and back up to cradle his face. She considered him with half-lidded eyes, and Adrien wobbled a little worse.

He knew it was coming, but he was still completely unprepared for the way she slowly rose off the couch to kiss him, soft and slick and deep.

Hands sliding down to his shoulders again, touching every single centimeter of skin along the way, she pushed him back. He obeyed mindlessly, first sitting back on his heels and then lying flat on his back, thighs stretched out tight and feet pinned beneath his body, consumed by the feeling of her tongue stroking his.

Ladybug drew back, pulling a groan from deep in his chest with her as she went. She sat back on her haunches, derrière planted tantalizingly close to his groin but not quite touching.

“There,” she said, looking proud of herself as she pinned his bathrobe in place and put her back to his more private areas. “Your modesty and virtue are safe.”

Like hell they were, Adrien reflected, so long as she was still on top of him.

Part of that thought must have shown on his face, because she grinned and said, “What, would you prefer I didn’t protect your modesty and virtue?”

Yes.

Ladybug stared at him with wide eyes, predator switching out for blushing schoolgirl in two seconds flat.

…He’d said that out loud, hadn’t he.

“Oh,” Ladybug squeaked, mask slowly blending into her skin while Adrien wondered which deity had had the bright idea of putting him in charge of his own mouth, and how he could best convince them to take it back.

They stared at one another for several seconds, each suspended in their own embarrassment, until Ladybug pulled the seductress persona back over herself like a wrap. She mustered up a coy half-glance, breaking the silence with, “The stuff of your fantasies, handsome boy?”

“You bet.”

Seriously, could someone please shut him up?

Ladybug gaped for the second time in as many minutes. “I-I… um.”

Adrien stared at his ceiling and wondered how someone could go about arranging a meteor strike.

Ladybug fidgeted with the opening of his bathrobe. “R-really?”

The word was hesitant (almost insecure) enough for him to force himself to nod instead of ignoring the question entirely and waiting for death like he was tempted to do.

“O-oh.”

Now he could lie back and wait for death.

…And feel his back start to cramp and his feet prickle at their lack of circulation, because his legs were still folded under him. It was amazing the kinds of things you could forget while humiliating yourself in front of the love of your life.

He considered saying something, asking her to shift a bit so he could unfold, but he couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

His death would be slow and painful, but he was all right with that. It would be a fitting end.

“About… about me?” Ladybug eventually tried, apparently unwilling to leave him to his doom just yet. Her gloved fingertip drew down his chest along the edge of the bathrobe, the light touch sparking electric tingles throughout his body.

Adrien nodded again, figuring he had nothing left to lose.

“Here?” she went on, less steady with every word, tilting her head to indicate the couch. “Like—like this?”

He nodded again.

(He could name no less than seven separate fantasies that involved her, him, his couch, and her straddling him while he was on his back in one combination or another, if he wanted to get into numbers.)

She was silent again.

Then, “Hey, Adrien?”

And something, something in her tone made him look down at her.

She was nibbling the thumb of her glove, catching the flawless material between white teeth and dark pink lips, shy eyes flicking from the far corner of his room and back to him — schoolgirl seductress chic. She rocked her weight back just enough and said, “Tell me about your fantasies?”

Oh hell.

Oh hell.

The noise that left his throat at that couldn’t be recreated in print. He choked almost noiselessly for several seconds before finally coming out with, “Um. First, would— would you mind…?”

She blinked at him.

He gestured helplessly at his legs, and Ladybug lurched up onto her knees with an alarmed backwards glance.

Adrien unfolded himself with a sigh of relief, feeling the blood rush back into his neglected and abused arteries.

Ladybug settled back down on his stomach and fixed him with an expectant look.

Of course she wasn’t going to drop this.

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to start, she licked her lips and said, “You, me, and this couch?”

He very carefully didn’t look at her, and nodded yet again.

“What do we do on this couch?”

Well…

I bend you over the arm of it and you goad me into fucking you senseless.

As if he could say that.

You tie my hands above my head and ride me 'til you scream.

Like hell.

You writhe under me, peeling off your suit as we make out, whimpering my name until I help you get out of it.

Not even close.

You run your fingers through my hair and tell me how much you love me as I slide into you like I’ve done it a million times before.

…Ha ha.

I get to put my hands all over you and finger you to completion over the suit.

Mmmaybe the first part of that one?

“I—” he croaked in the general direction of the couchside table. “We— um. We touch, mostly.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her quirk a covered eyebrow like I figured, but she didn’t comment.

“I…” He swallowed, no longer quite wishing for a meteor, but fuck this was embarrassing. “I get to touch you.”

“Just touch?”

She sounded—

Fuck, she sounded disappointed.

“However I want,” he tacked on, gulping, and finally dared to return his gaze to her face.

The disappointment had fallen away, her eyes sharpening. He dimly realized that she’d stopped breathing.

Adrien sucked air back into his own burning lungs, swallowed his heart as it tried to crawl up his throat. “I’m… I’m allowed to touch you all over.”

He put the slightest stress on the last two words, hoping she wouldn’t make him come out and say how desperately he wanted to sink his fingers into her deliciously ample backside, weigh her pert breasts in his palms, stroke between her legs and see what kinds of noises he could coax her into making…

She sucked her lip, gaze slipping to the side. “Like… where?”

Shit.

Adrien tilted his head back, focusing intently on the ceiling above them as a new wave of heat swept him from head to toe, refusing to meet her curious eyes.

Slim hands picked up his own from where they’d fallen to his sides and pressed his palms flat against her waist.

“Here?” she asked huskily, watching him intently.

That was one place, yes.

He nodded, swallowing hard and pressing his thumbs into the flesh on the insides of her hipbones, where he could feel a soft, thin layer of fat give way to firm muscle underneath the protection of the suit. His heart faltered.

He heard her inhale, quiet and shuddering. Saw her chest rise and fall with it, felt her abdomen flex with it.

“Where else?”

His eyes snapped to her face.

She met his gaze and crooked a grin, snagging his heart right out of his chest as she rose up on her knees to press into his hands.

“Show me?”

Show her, she said.

Adrien didn’t know whether to laugh or pass out.

He managed to not do either. Instead he let his shaking hands slide lower, mind static-blank, over generous hips and down thighs like corded steel.

Then back up, over the tiny amount of fat gathered over her stomach and back to the enchanting curve of her waist.

Then higher, up high enough to cradle the butterfly of her ribs — not quite daring to touch her breasts, but high enough to feel her pulse flutter and stumble under his fingertips, warm and strong.

She was pouting again, her eyes dark and breathing unsteady. “J-just this?”

Adrien swallowed, fingers twitching. Seriously, just how much did she think he could take?

(He was never going to recover from this, ever. This was going to be the only thing he’d be capable of thinking about for weeks, months, years. Ladybug in his room, on top of him, encouraging him to touch her however he wanted — it wasn’t even lifted from his darkest fantasies, it surpassed them all.)

“You can, you know,” Ladybug said, soft like it was a secret and confident like it was a given, and bent down just so, bringing the undersides of those breasts to rest against his hands.

The white noise in his head cleared enough for him to think oh god, and then he carefully, carefully brought his hands up to cup her breasts.

They were soft — wonderfully, mind-blowingly soft — and heavier than he expected, real and full and solid and oh god—

He squeezed them very gently and she gasped, arching into him, watching his hands as fixedly as he was.

Emboldened, he squeezed a little harder, running his thumbs over where he thought her nipples might be. He pushed both breasts up and together, enjoying the perfect swell, the soft weight, then let them fall apart to resettle in his palms. He toyed with her breasts, hypnotized by the sight of his hands stroking and pressing and softly kneading her polka-dotted curves.

On top of him, Ladybug squirmed, her breath coming shorter and shorter with every touch. Her eyes were half-lidded as she watched him play with her, nipples becoming more obvious with every stroke, silent until—

“Ah-Adrien…”

Oh shit.

He yanked his hands away, shot from head to toe with white-hot adrenaline, veins scorched and lungs forgotten.

“S-sorry,” he gasped, though even he could tell that had been anything but a complaint.

She squirmed, giving him what would have been a glare if she’d looked any less touch-drunk.

“Don’t stop—”

Adrien’s shaking hands were back on her hips before he quite knew what he was doing.

He didn’t go back to her breasts, but slid his touch a little further back, watching her face for any signs of protest as his fingers sank into the firm flesh of her ass.

Ladybug squeaked and jumped, the muscles under his fingers clenching, and he was about to pull back and apologize again when she sighed out a fluttery kind of moan and rolled back into his hands.

And also into pertinent (and very sensitive) parts of his anatomy behind her.

His hands clutched at her, holding on too tight as he fought back the stars swimming in his vision.

“Okay,” he gasped. “Okay, okay, enough.”

“Enough?” she echoed, winded.

“Mercy,” he added, panting. “Uncle. A pause, please.”

Or else he’d be finished by this alone.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she processed that, and she sank back down to straddle his stomach.

Adrien fell back, trying to relearn how to breathe and completely failing to tie the tattered threads of his sanity back together.

Ladybug didn’t give him the chance to try again.

“…Hey.”

“…Yeah?”

“If… if your fantasy is— is touching me, then…” She fidgeted, suddenly shy again, and he sucked in a breath at the feel of her shifting on top of him. “Can… can we do my fantasies, too?”

Ladybug’s fantasies?

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Like there was any other answer he was capable of giving.

She hesitated a moment longer, then tugged his bathrobe open a little more, faceplanting in his stomach and… rubbing her face on it?

He blinked, staring down at her weird, self-indulgent little grin as her hot tongue flicked out to taste his skin, ran over her lips, then pressed more firmly against his stomach. She licked her way up his sternum and dragged her lips back down to his abs again, fingertips tracing the features of his skin and sliding over his chest.

Ladybug was on top of him, licking his abs.

It was ticklish and strange and he was biting back laughter on the same breaths as he was fighting back moans because seriously, her fantasy was to lick his abs?

Then it fully clicked that it was Ladybug’s fantasy to lick his abs, and Adrien wasn’t laughing any more.

Ladybug had fantasized about this.

About him.

He arched into her touch and bucked against her stomach, throwing his head back against the couch cushions and opening himself up in any way he could.

Ladybug had thought about Adrien Agreste and fantasized about him.

She pressed a palm against his hip to still him and he obeyed mindlessly, shuddering as she breathed a soft laugh over his navel. She dragged her lips over the contours of his musculature and nosed the trail of hair that led places he’d really like her to be, flattening her free hand against the bottom of his ribs, and he reeled.

She wanted him.

She wanted him, she wanted him, she wanted him, and her touches felt less like seduction and more like worship, and he was choking on his moans because oh god—

She wanted him.

She licked and lapped her way up his body again, teeth grazing his nipple hard enough to make him worry he’d come then and there, and arrived at his chin with a little nip, stretched out over him luxuriously.

“Thanks,” she said, a little sheepishly, like he’d indulged her or something.

“Any time, any— anything,” he wheezed, head spinning too badly to manage what he really wanted to say, which was something more along the lines of 'I’ll be your pet, I’ll be your toy, I’ll be your slave, I’ll be anything you want me to be so long as I’m yours. I’ll do anything you want me to, anything at all, just please, please, oh god just claim me as yours.’

The sharp look entered her eyes again, intense enough to cut him to the marrow, to slip between his ribs and carve up his heart. Adrien curled his fingers into the couch cushions in a futile attempt to stop his hands from shaking.

“…Anything?”

“Yesssss…” he gasped, word catching on a hiss as Ladybug, still looking speculative, pushed herself up and slithered down his body.

He felt dazed, nearly floating, as she caught the belt of the robe and ever-so-slowly loosened the knot. The reverent ceremony of it almost made him want to laugh.

He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not with Ladybug (Ladybug!) running gloved hands over his skin, smoothing the robe aside and sucking in a wanting little gasp as her eyes roved over him.

(He wasn’t that impressive.)

(She wanted him.)

“I, um,” she stuttered, not taking her eyes off his cock as she licked her lips yet again.

If there had been any breath left in his lungs, Adrien would have whimpered.

“I’ve never done this before,” she went on, tracking a bead of precum as it rolled down his shaft, sharp and air-cooled, with mind-liquifyingly intense interest. “S-so… um. T-tell me if I’m doing this… right or wrong, or— or if it feels good?”

'If,’ the Lady said.

If he’d been able to speak, Adrien would happily have given her all the encouragement she could ever need. All she was doing was looking at him, and the intent of it alone was threatening to take him out. She’d probably have to bite him for it not to feel good.

She waited for him to nod before she took a steadying little breath (hot air puffing over the sensitive skin right in front of her) and swooped in to press a delicate kiss to the base of his cock.

Ladybug’s eyes fluttered closed behind his member, and Adrien’s stomach quivered, overheated and turned inside out.

This wasn’t his biggest fantasy, or his smallest. This wasn’t any fantasy of his at all. This was so far beyond everything he’d ever imagined that it made him think that it must be reality — his mind wasn’t capable of conjuring anything like this.

He’d tried, once or twice or thrice, to imagine Ladybug going down on him, and had come up with images so laughably fake they just didn’t compute.

Ladybug? On her knees? For him?

He’d derailed more than one orgasm with how ludicrous that thought was.

And yet here she was, crouched above him, trailing her lips up, up, up to meet the drip and touch her tongue to the underside of the head.

Adrien didn’t realize he’d bucked into it, overwhelmed by the shock of the touch, until Ladybug grabbed his hips and pushed them back down, firm and implacable.

She held him there with no apparent effort as she tested him with her mouth, explored him with gentle, curious touches, drawing broken whimper after needy moan after strangled gasp out of his struggling lungs with tiny kisses and strokes and caresses.

He couldn’t have stayed still if his life had depended on it. Every single brush of contact, from the lightest of breaths to the sharpest of sucks, lit up every nerve in his system like she’d stuck his fingers in a socket — all he could do was writhe helplessly against her grip.

He understood now: this wasn’t Ladybug on her knees for him. This was Ladybug playing him like a grand maestro, tugging every reaction she wanted out of him and then some, turning him into something mindless and wanting, longing, begging with a few light touches and little else.

It had never been clearer just how much stronger she was: she barely flexed to keep him in place no matter how hard he squirmed and jerked, choked pants and clamped down whimpers cutting the air. The show of strength was almost as hot as the lithe pink tongue she was teasing him with, and the combination drove him higher and higher, blurring his surroundings and amplifying the sharp little pinpricks of reflected lamplight in his vision until they haloed her like stars.

The delicate touches weren’t nearly enough, yet they were more, better than anything he’d ever experienced before. The fact that it was Ladybug doing this to him, scarlet mask and crystal blue eyes shyly darting to meet his every so often as she squirmed between his legs and teased, tripped up his heart and snared it.

Her thumbs stroked over his hip bones, bright red fabric catching at his skin as she placed a soft, sucking kiss to the underside of the head of his cock, and Adrien nearly shouted.

He remembered just in time that the household staff were still on the clock and probably not sleeping, and stuffed a knuckle in his mouth to stifle the sound, tasting copper when he bit down hard in his fervor.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed. Ladybug stilled, then pulled away.

Eyes shut tight, he was just swallowing his protest when her fingers closed around his wrist. He opened them to find her half-risen with her lower lip caught in her teeth.

“Don’t,” she murmured and pulled his hand from his mouth, perfectly steady against his wild trembling.

She could say it as softly as she wanted, but it couldn’t be more clear that it was an order, not a request, and Adrien was helpless to resist. His arm was placed neatly beside him in the space between his body and the back of the couch and refused to move from there — even when Ladybug licked one hot-cold-wet stripe up him from root to tip and his back arched clear off the cushions.

He landed back on the couch with a bounce and sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling sweat roll down his neck and into the terrycloth of his bathrobe.

She didn’t wait for him to get his breath back — only pressed her lips to the head in a flat, dry kiss, and laid him out flat.

Then she took the tip into her mouth, and Adrien was done.

He registered hot and wet and slick, and then she sucked, just a little, and he felt it like a sucker punch to the solar plexus.

The tension that had been knotting in the base of his spine exploded, crested, dragged him under without ceremony or warning, leaving him floundering in the undertow and as helpless to stop it as he was to move the wrist she’d pinned at his side.

He was distantly aware of Ladybug choking, of the brush of her teeth against his head and then cold air, but the shock of brief pain was quickly swept away by the all-consuming waves of pleasure.

Adrien might have shouted, or screamed, or just gasped like a drowning man — it was impossible to tell when the blood pounding in his ears drowned out everything else.

His world was shattered and reconstructed. She shattered his world, and he was left to put the pieces back together, the sharp edges of his fundamental truths (Ladybug will never love you the way you love her and That’s okay and You’ll move on someday) fitting together into a picture slightly, marginally, infinitesimally different from before, and he didn’t have any brainpower left to fix it.

Instead, that altered picture filtered back to him, starting with his thundering pulse and ending with his heavy limbs, joined by the realization that his wrist was his own again. Heat sparked and sputtered in the core of the wonderfully warm glow that submerged his entire body at the thought that, not a few seconds ago, it had been hers.

Speaking of…

He pried his eyes open, peering down the length of his body to find Ladybug looking about as gobsmacked as he felt. Something dripped off the corner of her mask, something that looked an awful lot like—

Oh.

Oh.

Adrien’s swiftly growing horror was only helped along by the fact that the same substance seemed to have left traces across her lips and, oh hell, in her mouth.

(She’d choked. She’d choked on him oh fu—)

Mortified panic seared away the afterglow, and he opened his mouth to apologize ten or twenty times—

Ladybug met his eye (hot-cold shock of crystalline blue framed by scarlet and pitch against indistinguishable backdrop of his room sending chills down his spine) and closed her messy mouth, and repeated the one damnable, lethal thing she’d been doing all night.

She licked her lips.

Every single one of his innumerable apologies derailed off his tongue. Adrien shut his mouth with a click, words forgotten.

She slanted a smirk at him, tipping her head to the side, bathed in moonlight and lamplight and shadow, and every bit of air in his lungs fled.

Then, abruptly, she winced.

Adrien scrambled into a sitting position, fighting against his sluggish limbs to grab her biceps, a strangled 'what’s wrong?!’ caught on his heavy tongue.

She batted at his hands for a moment before coughing into her palm, leaving behind…

Oh.

Ew.

“I am not a swallower,” she groaned, thumping her head against his bare chest, inky locks tickling his skin.

The only thing for that was to laugh. Breathlessly chuckling, Adrien shrugged off the top half of his bathrobe so he could first wipe off her hand, then her face with it. “G-good to know.”

She shot him a sheepish look beneath his careful ministrations, half pouting and half abashed.

Adrien was forced to glance away, his heart kicking in double time.

“Sorry about the…”

The facial? The choking? The squirming? The complete failure to help her at all? The coming in two minutes flat?

Adrien floundered for a second, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer number of things he needed to apologize for.

“…mess.”

She hummed, blinking big blue eyes, then crooked a little grin at him, smug and happy and—

Shit.

“Means I did a good job, right?”

“Right,” Adrien croaked.

Good job felt like an understatement when she had him so far gone he couldn’t even beg.

Her brow wrinkled. “Your finger…”

“It’s fine,” Adrien assured her quickly, twitching to hide the bruising behind a fistful of his bathrobe. It wasn’t fine, actually — it stung like hell — but he didn’t want her to worry.

He never wanted her to worry.

(Especially not about him.)

She reached up and gripped his wrist with a flat look, and he could have sworn she mumbled worse than Chat as she studied his finger. She sucked a breath through her teeth and winced sympathetically, blissfully unaware of his internal panic. (He’d misheard that, right? Right?) “Oh, ouch. That looks pawful.”

…Pawful?

The room froze in one glorious moment of suspension, broken by Ladybug clapping her free hand to her mouth like she could stuff the word back down.

Adrien’s jaw dropped, panic forgotten.

“D-did you just…?”

“Awful,” she said quickly, though around her hand it sounded more like 'mmffl.’ She let go of his wrist and dropped her hand a few inches, repeating, “Awful. I said awful.”

That was not what she’d said, and he could feel his glee bubble up, rising from his stomach to spill onto his face.

She’d used his pun.

“Awful,” she said again, horrified panic growing at the same rate as his maniacal grin. “I didn't— I’m not—”

He clamped his mouth shut over a snort and tried not to laugh outright.

She reddened, jerkily making to stand up. “You know what, I think I’ll just—”

“Wait!” he cried, grabbing her by the arm and swallowing the snickers that threatened to escape. “Sorry, sorry—”

“No, you’re not.”

“Am too. I just— the pun—”

“Oh god, you’re as impawssible as Chat— duck.”

The snickers broke free as full-fledged laughter, and he only half remembered to keep his voice down.

“I meant fuck,” she dragged out, groaning as she thumped her head against his chest again, muttering uncomplimentary things under her breath.

He curled around her, exhaling breathless chuckles into her hair. Her suit slid against his bare skin where his arms wrapped around her of their own volition.

“I… really do have to go,” she whispered against his chest when his laughter died down, trailing fingers over his hipbone.

Adrien rested his mouth against her hairline in a not-quite kiss, his chest aching. “…I know.”

She didn’t move.

Both of their curfews were coming up, tomorrow was a school day, they had patrol arranged for tomorrow evening… She should go.

There was nothing he wanted less.

He sighed and nuzzled her hair, pulling her closer to block out reality for a minute. But only a minute.

Someone here had to be responsible.

“Well…” he finally said, reluctantly withdrawing. He waited for her to look up at him before continuing, “Just know that you’re welcome to walk in on my showers any time.”

Her brow wrinkled quizzically. “Huh?”

Adrien wondered if he should be insulted she’d forgotten.

“This is the third time now, isn’t it?”

Ladybug’s eyes widened slightly in realization, then went much wider. “Th-th-that— it was— it was an accident! I swear!”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, unable to resist messing with her just a little bit. “Well, that’s what I’d assumed, but now I’m wondering…”

“An accident!”

He found himself bursting into laughter yet again, a warm-fuzzy-bubbly happy glow settling between his ribs.

“You’re amazing.”

Ladybug, pouting and red-faced, blinked at him. “What?”

Adrien brought his hands up to cradle her face, smile bright like he’d swallowed a sun. Oh god, this girl is going to be the death of me. “You’re amazing.”

The pout dropped away for something much softer, shock and vulnerability and something else — something warm and fierce and hurting that he was terrified of putting a name to — and then she looked away, too late to hide anything.

He let her be, crushing the mad urge to kiss her with practiced ease. He glanced away to his open window instead, where it stood firm against the light breeze rustling the trees outside—

Wait.

His window was open.

Shit.

“Um.”

“Hm?”

“When I… uh. I mean. D-did I…?”

“Did you what?”

After a long moment in which he wrestled with the intense embarrassment of having to ask, he finally choked out, “Scream. Did I scream when I…”

“What?”

Adrien was just mentally preparing to say it when she went, “Oh.”

And then, “Oh!”

And then, “I, uh. Um. I-I mean. You sounded kind of… strangled? I mean I could, um, hear you, but I don’t think it carried.”

Adrien let out a small sigh of relief—

“Are you… normally loud?”

—and choked on the inhale.

“I-I don't— that’s not— I mean kin— I mean—” he spluttered, very bare skin heating up and flushing all over.

(More… carnal pleasures always seemed to go straight to his vocal chords, but masturbating had never drawn more than soft moans or muffled hums out of him. Did it count as 'normally loud’ if the one time he’d been… assisted in getting off he’d worried about bringing his household down around his ears?)

Ladybug was watching him again, predator-still and tracking him with a kind of all-consuming intent that would have been unnerving from anyone else, but from her had him wondering, guiltily, if he could get her to stay for a round two.

She shook herself out of it and reluctantly slid off the couch before he could talk himself into or out of any half-baked plans. “Your hand?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, smiling.

She smiled faintly back, gaze lingering and looking almost downcast (—to be leaving him. She wanted him—) as she turned to go.

He followed her, leaving his bathrobe behind after a moment of contemplation (it was a mess), trailing a short distance behind her as she studied the layout of the security cameras on his balcony and cautiously pushed herself up onto the window sill.

He couldn’t just let her go like this.

“I want to see you again,” Adrien confessed, bracing his hands against the window frame as she tossed her yo-yo and pushed off the sill to hang above his balcony.

She twisted around to face him, despondence vanishing behind an impish smirk.

“See me?” Ladybug asked slyly, poking her tongue out just a little bit.

What?

…Oh.

Oh.

“Th-th-that’s not what I meant!” Adrien choked, face burning in embarrassment.

The smirk dropped off her face but stayed in her eyes. “Oh? That’s too bad…”

His insides seized up, forcing a strange, strangled noise out of his throat.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!” Ladybug laughed, swinging back a bit. Then she added, doubly sly with a little growl, “Next time, you can return the favor.”

There wasn’t any air left in his lungs to make a noise at that, and it was only shock and the dull throb of pain in his knuckles that kept his hands on the architecture and not on her.

The smugness dropped off her face as she studied his. “Sorry, was that…?”

“Don’t say things like that.”

She winced. “Sorry—”

“Not when you’re about to leave,” he begged. Not unless you plan to follow up because oh god—

She seemed to catch his meaning, biting her lip and flushing dark enough for him to see it even in the blue moonlight. “R-right.”

“That— that really wasn’t what I meant, though.”

He leaned forward into the biting cold, catching her eye and trying to make her understand with a smile. “Just… to talk. Sometimes. Whenever you want. I just…”

He pried a hand loose to rub the back of his neck, his words a little too personal to deal with while holding her electric stare.

“I’d like to get to know you better.”

And there it was. His biggest wish summed up in eight terrifying little words.

(It wasn’t that he didn’t know her at all, it was that all he could ever know would never, ever be enough.)

He wasn’t looking at her, so he didn’t see her swing or how she grabbed the window frame with her feet to reel herself in. He didn’t have any sort of warning at all before she swooped in and pressed warm lips against his wind-chilled cheek.

The kiss, however, was his warning for the look she gave him after — warm and bright and damn near adoring, moonlight bleaching her scarlet ribbons, giving her form a soft, haloed glow while it pooled in her eyes with breathtaking clarity.

Adrien’s (Chat’s) heart was never cut out for handling anything like that.

“See you later, handsome boy.”

And then she was gone.

(Later, Adrien would have no recollection of how he made it back to his bed. He only knew he must have when he’d woken up nude on a bedspread that had been soft and fabric-y and most definitely not the couch — which was a good thing, because the couch was ruined for him now. He was never going to be able to see it and not think of her.

It still took him a while to convince himself that the night had actually happened, even with the soiled bathrobe that he’d had to hide at the bottom of his laundry. The issue wasn’t helped by the fact that dream versions of their tryst plagued him for the rest of the week.

It wasn’t until the next akuma battle that it really hit home: when, upon his asking if Ladybug had done anything exciting over the weekend, she shifted in place with a tiny smirk.

“You might say that,” she said, subtly rubbing her thighs together as she brought her hand up to her mouth and—

Fucking.

Licked her lips.

Chat fell off the damned roof.)

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.