Yes Yes, I know! Another chapter from Masquerade is that surprising? No😘. I just needed something else from the love square ship other than Adrinette! I feel like you guys are getting tired of a bunch of Adrinette chapters. WELL IM SORRY I LIKE ADRINETTE MORE THAN THE WHOLE SHOW! And ladynoir BUT THAT NOT THE POINT! The point is you are going to read this chapter from a VERY VERY VeRy great book and you are going to enjoy it ok? Ok ☺️. Heres the link by the way:https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999220/chapters/28359900#workskin Enjoy!
25: Striptease
Yanking back on the yoyo, Chat opens his eyes and nearly trips over himself in relief at having trussed up the husband in the yoyo's string like a roasted Cornish hen, ready for service on a silver platter. Whooping with glee, he punches his fist to the sky and dances on his toes towards him, snickering at the man's crimson lips and cheeks, his mouth spewing curses and insults without any sound.
"Cat got your tongue?" he giggles and nearly doubles over in hysterics, powerless to stop himself from laughing at his own jokes with the rush of elation cursing through his veins. He plucks the possessed ring from the husband's violently thrashing hand and holds it up to the sunlight like an offering to the gods, smiling foolishly at the sky and watching as the wife stomps over to them, her eyes practically glowing in anticipation as she cracks her knuckles and readies her fists.
"Ready?" he invites her closer, spreading his arms in invitation. Grinning like an idiot, he scoots out of the way and stands on the sidelines as the wife hauls out and punches the husband straight in the jaw only to step back and nail him right in the groin.
"I hope I remember this later," she sneers, planting her hands on her hips as her husband writhes on the ground, crying and squirming like an eel out of water.
"I don't think that'll be a problem," Chat replies with a wince at her savagery, pointing over to where Alya stand at the forefront of the crows, phone in hand.
The wife uses the toe of her boot to lift the husband's cheek off the concrete, forcing him to make eye contact, "You low life, scum of the earth, rotten piece of shit. I'm filing for divorce and full custody of Samuel," she grinds her heel into his mouth and flicks her foot to knock his head back onto the ground, "I hope you're happy with your harpy wife, wherever the hell she is."
She turns to Chat and slips her ring from her finger, slamming it onto the ground herself, "Worthless piece of crap."
The wedding band breaks open and a black and neon purple butterfly emerges, stuttering briefly before fluttering back up into the sky. Chat gasps and recoils the yoyo from the husband, running back full force to where he'd left Marinette sitting on a bench. Subtlety be damned, he scoops her up and runs back to where the flapping akuma is starting to gain altitude, planting her on her feet and slipping the yoyo around her finger. He smashes the husband's ring on the ground as well and scoots in behind her, grabbing her hand and aiming it in the first akuma's general direction. Confused but catching on quickly, Marinette takes a deep breath and seems to get the hint.
"Je te délivre du mal !"
Chat throws the yoyo using Marinette's hand, concentrating on where he wants it to go with his thoughts as hard as he possibly can. The yoyo captures the first one and he reels it back into Marinette's palm, using the hand he has clamped around her waist to spin her and face the second akuma desperately trying to make a break for it. Like clockwork, she allows him to bend her arm back again and he chucks the yoyo at the second one, delighting when it captures that one too. Unable to keep his elation in check, he hops up and down a few times with joy and winds the yoyo back in, popping it back into her hand. It closes and he slides his claw along its lid, releasing the purified butterflies up and into the atmosphere to the sounds of cheers from all around them, the crowd babbling with excitement.
"We did it!" he hollers, leaving Marinette by herself for a moment to pick up the mirror left on the ground. He scurries back and sticks the handle within her fingers, taking her wrist and motioning for her to throw it skywards. He steps back as she readies her stance, cocking a hip and tossing it into the air.
"Miraculous Ladybug!"
A flurry of magical ladybugs bursts from the sky, splaying like fireworks and raining down on the people around them, scooping up the victims of the akuma attack and rendering them normal again. Marinette is wrapped up for a moment and blinks repeatedly against the blinding light when she emerges, her sight and hearing finally restored.
"We did it!" Chat shouts, nearly galloping back towards her, scooping her up into her arms and spinning her like a top, "We did it! We did it!"
She grabs onto the first thing she can reach, unbalanced and disoriented after being in the dark for so long; she can't help but share in Chat's effervescence, his enthusiasm so contagious that she begins to smile, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. He jumps up and down a few more times before setting her down, grabbing her hand and turning tail, running away from the hoards of spectators coming their way.
"Ahhhh!" he babbles as they make a break for it, unable to plug his energy from bubbling out from inside him, "I used your yoyo! We did it!"
All she can do is nod in bewilderment as he takes her hand and uses his baton to launch them into the air, leaning wildly so as to land on the edge of the highest fire escape. He lets her down first and leaps from the top of the baton, grabbing her hand again and leading her up the stairs towards the roof.
"It was so cool!" he gushes, taking each step three at a time, "Your yoyo is awesome!"
They make it to the top of the building and he skips towards the nearest chimney stack, rebounding against it with a backflip, "It was AWESOME! Best akuma fight EVER!"
Marinette shakes her head, loosening the cobwebs in her mind, "Easy for you to say."
He turns back towards her and grabs her hands, dancing them around in a circle, "It's like I got to be Ladybug for a day!" he raves, doing his best impression of a heart-eyed emoji, "Ahhhh!"
She lets go of his fingers and pauses for a moment to get her bearings, "Look Chat, I've got to get home."
"Merde," he pauses in his celebration, "So do I. I'll talk to you later?"
"Sure," she replies non-committedly, turning around and leaping off the building before he can say another word.
~
Marinette collapses face first into her bed and doesn't move for a long time.
Her mum comes up to check on her twice, reassuring her that they'd put her dinner in the fridge in case she wanted to eat it later and Marinette appreciates the thoughtfulness, all things considered. Judging by the lack of harassment from Sabine after being over an hour late from her walk home from school, she already suspects she hasn't been fooling anyone.
Least of all Chat.
She tries all the usual strategies: listening to calming music, tending to the boxes of spring flowers on her balcony, taking a stab at the chemise she'd been meaning to mend. Each time she ends up face first on her bed, the consequences of her inadvertent reveal hounding her thoughts like the plague.
She ends up drawing a long, hot bath and slipping into the water immediately eases some of that pent-up tension inside of her, the bubbles tucking in behind her knees and her ears like a security blanket, covering her almost completely. She sinks down until the water comes up passed her lips and sits there for a few minutes, far longer than she'd ever intended, watching the bubbles shine like spilled petrol on asphalt and pop in the ambient light. Like all things though, the tension in her spine creeps back up into her muscles and fogs her mind like a mirror, leaving her just as restless as she was before.
Giving up, she steps out and over the rim of the clawfoot tub and towels herself off before collapsing back into bed, her moans of frustration muffled by the mountain of pillows piled on her bed. There's no way on the planet she's even going to consider showing up to patrol later tonight but she needs something to relieve the pent-up pressure inside of her head, something beyond the proverbial mound of homework waiting for her on Google Classroom. If she doesn't do something and be smart about it, she knows she'll probably end up doing something reckless and stupid, something she's apt to do when she's in the weeds. She's stolen enough phones and stalked enough people out of misplaced desperation to attest to that.
Too lost in her own thoughts to be entirely aware of what she's doing, it takes a minute or two to realise that her hand had snuck its way beneath the hem of the towel and continued its pilgrimage up to the crease of her thighs. Sighing into her pillow, she rolls over and closes her eyes, drooping her forearm over her head to block out the ambient light of her lamp and foregoes worrying about it anymore. She needs this, if she's going to be honest with herself. She might actually be able to hold a coherent conversation if she could just burn off a little frustration...
She lets her hand continue its creeping path up and across her abdomen, her fingers tangling in her hair before slipping down further along her folds. She's not surprised to find that her body is already a few steps ahead of her brain, her lips slick and needy and she can't suppress the moan that bubbles passed her lips when she grazes her clit, bending her knees and bracing herself against her mattress. The little bundle of nerves sings with hypersensitivity and she's already half way there, imagining the way he smelled against her skin earlier that day, the sensation of his hair between her fingers, the vibration of his chest against her own. She takes her lip between her teeth and tries to stay quiet, her toes burrowing themselves in the sheets, her back arched and her muscles taut.
It's only been a few short hours since they'd defeated the akuma, leaving her breathlessly confused and him bursting at the seams. Seeing him so happy nearly sent her reeling, the humbling realisation that she'd just been forced to detransform in front of his face and he hadn't really reacted, had just kissed her like he'd known all along, like his life depended on it. She thinks back to that moment and imagines those lips on her now, bringing her right to brink only to tease her, drawing back and kissing patterns against her inner thighs like he'd meant to all along, teasing her senslessly. Doubling down, she can't bear the thought of slowing down, jumping ahead in her fantasy to just give her some release and ah!
It's the lasting image of his face between her thighs that finally tips her over, her orgasm short and sweet and just enough to dull the razor's edge of her thoughts and worries, granting her the smallest modicum of relief. Curling up onto her side, she presses her face into the pillow and wallows in the afterglow, if only for a moment, and forces herself to try and relax in its wake, her ears still pounding in tandem with her heartbeat.
Crash!
The sound of the lock rattling against the trapdoor above her head jostles her back into awareness and she scrambles to her feet, grabbing the nearest object to her with a potential to maim. Wielding a table lamp in one hand and holding her towel up around her chest with the other, Marinette tiptoes over her mattress and hisses as loudly as she dares through the wood.
"Who is it?"
"It's me," comes the muffled reply, "Chat."
Shifting uncomfortably, she tightens her grip on the lamp, "Prove it."
There's a quick rustle of movement above her head, "Who else would be on your balcony at 22:00?"
Marinette purses her lips, "Humour me. What did we talk about last night when we left the courtyard?"
"You made fun of my Naruto socks."
Marinette smiles in relief and sets the lamp back down on the beside table, reaching up to unclip the lock, "You have to admit, they were ugly."
"You know, I came out to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now," he pounces down onto the mattress, leaping with all fours onto the neighboring chaise.
"First Naruto, now memes?" she locks the trapdoor behind him and spins around, heedless to the way the towel flutters around her thighs, "You're lucky I don't kick you to the curb."
"But I just got here," he eyes her approvingly, his voice having dropped a few registers at the sight of her. She hadn't bothered putting her hair back into ponytails after her bath, her loose tresses falling in soft waves against her shoulders and back. She tries to quell the blush that threatens to spread to her collarbones and chest, having been the subject of his gaze more times than she can count, but she feels so exposed, so unprotected and bare to him now, her dollar store mask long forgotten in the back pocket of her jeans.
Not that she needs it anymore.
Something must show on her face because Chat suddenly changes his stance, settling against the cushions, "Hey Marinette."
"Hey," she replies, sitting back down on her bed. She looks down at her bare legs, swinging them idly, "Welcome to my room."
"It's nice," he says, looking around, "A little too pink for my taste, but it suits you."
She shrugs, "It's my favourite colour."
"So I guessed," he crosses his legs in front of him and leans to the side, propping his head on the elbow leaning against the chaise, "Did you watch the footage Alya posted on the LadyBlog?"
Marinette glances over towards her computer, "I've been meaning to."
"I thought that would be the first thing you'd do," Chat says, his surprise obvious in his tone, "It's not like you had a first-hand experience or anything."
"I..." she trails off, "Did you know? Before?"
"Did I know what?" he says, his face the pinnacle of innocence. He's used it on her enough times before to no longer be fooled.
"You know what."
Chat looks away, scratching at the back of his head, "If I knew your identity? I...I had my suspicions but I didn't...I didn't know for sure until then."
She sighs and continues kicking her legs, her heels bouncing off her bedspring. Was it really such a bad thing? After all this time, everything they'd been through, everything they'd done...if anyone had earned the right to know who she was, it was this man. He'd asked before, and she'd denied him every time. She did her best to not think of who he might be, though she knew he was leaving clues for her to ignore.
He wanted to know who she was. He'd earned that knowledge in a thousand different ways. He'd had the opportunity to find out before and had never capitalized on it, but this? This situation was a little different than a door that hadn't fully closed, or stepping around the side of a chimney. She had literally detransformed in front of him, with no way to hide or escape.
Finally raising her head, she makes eye contact with him across the short distance that yawns between them. This is yanking off a bandaid that had been on too long; hold your breath and try not to think of the sting. Because even if it hurts, the bandage needs to come off.
"Well, now you know," she says and her tone is a little more acidic than she'd intended. She looks away again, embarrassed and frustrated and a myriad of other emotions all rolled up into one. She feels like curling up into a ball under the heat of his gaze, uncomfortable and exposed like an insect fixed to a pinning block. She doesn't know what to think of his inaction, of the way he continues to sit across from her, eyeing her curiously.
"Do you want a hug?"
She looks up at him from where she's hung her head at the hopeful look in his eyes, watching it spread across his features. It's moments like these that she stops forgetting why she ever thought this was a bad idea.
He's at her side before she can even say a word.
"I thought you were going to sneeze or something," he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "I'm so used to seeing you in a mask that it's kind of hard to get a read on you without it."
She smiles at his attempts at levity, "Want me to go get it?"
"No!" he exclaims and Marinette reacts quickly, shushing him with a finger to his lips.
"My parents will hear you!"
"Oh," he replies, a little sheepish. He snuggles closer, "Can I make it up to you?"
She fiddles with the hem of her towel with a middle-distance stare, "You still...want that?"
"What?" he pulls back ever so slightly and she's ignorant to the sudden hopeful look that spreads across his features. He leans in and presses his lips to her cheek, easing her head to turn towards him and face each other, leaning forwards to meet her lips in a kiss that's somehow just as soft and yet so much more than its predecessors. They've never quite kissed beyond the throes of the itch, explosive and frenzied from so many years of built up tension between them, but it's still enough to send frissons all the way down her spine, his toes curling in his boots in satisfaction.
She kisses him back carefully, the way their lips move against each other no less passionate and yet somehow, somehow it managed to convey a depth of feeling she had never truly felt in the wake of his body against hers, crushing and overwhelming all at once. The metaphor of fracturing into a million indelible pieces of herself is not lost on her now and she finds herself pulling away much sooner than she had wanted, putting some much needed distance between them.
"This changes everything."
"It changes nothing," he counters, getting up to follow her across the room, "You're still Ladybug."
"I'm Marinette. Ladybug is...an alter ego."
"Doesn't mean the two of you are separate entities," he takes her hands, ignoring the way her towel seems to be unravelling, "I love both of you regardless."
"You don't know me as Marinette," she replies and Chat feels like tugging his hair out at the irony of the situation.
"Then let me," he insists, "Trust me. Trust me with this. Trust me with you. We're a team, right?"
"Yes."
"And we agreed long ago that we had to keep the lines of communication open, right?"
"Yes."
"Trust is a two-way street," he weaves their fingers together, his eyes never leaving her face, "I love you regardless of who you are and we can't let this distract us from what's important."
She takes a deep breath, "Knowing my identity has put us both in danger."
"Then we just have to be more careful."
"Careful?" she snorts softly, "When have you ever been careful?"
"Our flaws don't define us," he says, smiling wryly, "You can be borderline neurotic sometimes and I still love you."
She narrows her eyes, "You're a dick."
"A loveable dick though."
"I hate you."
"Mm," she honestly expects him to devour her at this point, so it comes as a surprise when he simply kisses the corners of her mouth, her bottom lip, her cupid's brow. Impatient, she deepens the kiss and slides her tongue against him, drawing his lips between her teeth and swallowing his gasp.
The heat that had been steadily waning with the onset of summer races down her spine, coiling low and hot in her abdomen. His hands are everywhere and hers are no better, roaming his torso as her fingers trace the outlines of his muscles through his suit. He gasps as her hand ghosts across the evidence of his arousal straining against the fabric and she grinds her stomach against him, grinning against his lips at his reaction.
She steps back and lets the towel drop.
A blur of movement and the sudden weight of his arm across the bottom of her shoulder blades is the only warning she has before his other arm hits the back of her knees, scooping her up into his arms. Marinette feels herself gasp even as her arms automatically wind around his neck; it never fails to give her a thrill when he picks her up, a casual show of strength made more impressive by the fact that he isn't bragging about it. Unwilling to swoon against his chest like a helpless damsel, Marinette braces herself and squashes the urge to squeal.
They don't go far, just a few strides, and he spins her around, dropping her back down onto her bed with a bounce. A soft laugh escapes before she can censor it and the hands pressed into the mattress next to her on either side of her face stills momentarily.
"I did say I'd like to do this on a bed some time," Marinette shakes her head with a wry smirk, moving up the mattress to nip along his jawline, revelling in the power she holds over him as he arches his neck in offering. She reaches out to thread her fingers through his unruly hair and bites down at the juncture of his neck and he responds in kind, grinding down and growling low in his throat.
"Have I told you how much I love you today?" he mutters against her collarbones, his purr well and truly triggered by this point. He puts his weight on one hand and explores with the other, tracing along her ribs and brushing against the undersides of her breasts. He slides his palms up and over, cupping one and running his gloved thumbs over her nipple, straining despite the warm air of her bedroom. He presses one thigh between her legs and she can feel herself grow hot and slick and straining for friction, more of it, anything to take the edge off, heat pooling low in her abdomen.
"Plenty," she groans, smiling into his skin when he indulges her and shifts his leg, allowing her to grind up against him. The texture of the suit feels widely different than his fingers and she trails her hands down his sides, reaching to stroke him through the fabric, spreading her legs further to accommodate him. He rolls his hips forwards with excruciating slowness, the pace in direct contrast to the way he devours her lips and digs his claws into the skin of her thighs, nearly sending her skyrocketing to the ceiling.
He replaces his leg with his fingers, cupping a broad palm against her clit and she grinds against the heel of his hand, slick and needy. He feels hot even through the fabric of his gloves and she presses harder, eager for the friction, eager for the way he draws ragged gasp after ragged gasp when he drags his claw along the seam of her lips, circling her clit just the way she likes.
"Do you still hate me?" he purrs, slipping away momentarily. He's so familiar with her body and he takes ruthless advantage of it, playing her like a musical instrument, grace be damned.
"No," she mewls and he rewards her, dipping between her folds and slipping a finger carefully inside her, pumping once, twice, three times before retreating to her clit. He repeats the pattern a few times before changing the rhythm.
"And we're going to be honest with each other now?"
He slips a second finger inside of her and the pressure in tantalising, "Yes."
"Good," he nibbles the shell of her ear and picks up the pace, cautiously curling his fingers to hit the spot inside her he'd found only recently and would never forget, not with the way she screams and clenches around him, "Because I have a question for you."
He doesn't elaborate and dives down instead, lapping unexpectedly at her entrance and she cries out in pleasure, heedless to the noises she's making. He plunges his tongue inside and she can feel him rumbling though her, her entire body shuddering with it, the vibrations nearly sending her past the brink. Her muscles clamp down on his tongue and he only ups the ante, purring louder and it's suddenly much harder to breathe, her back arching off the back in ecstasy. She's so close now, her thighs quaking and her head tossing side to side, making a delicious mess of her hair against the pillows.
"Ah!" she cries, babbling nonsense against the hand now shoved up against her lips and it's the graze of his teeth against her clit, the moans, and the knowledge that he's taking pleasure from it all that finally sends her over the edge yet again. Her hips rocket out towards him and he holds her as she shudders, his tongue still tracing the seam of her lips to draw out her pleasure and she sinks even further into the mattress, boneless and sated and unreservedly satisfied. It takes her a second to open her eyes again, watching as Chat sits back up, straddling her thighs and lewdly wiping his mouth with his forearm.
"Can I ask that question now?" he says, his eyes fiery in contract to the clever pull of his lips. She's helpless against him and nods, her entire body still thrumming with post orgasmic bliss.
He cocks his head to the side and Marinette is already regretting it.
"So, do you want to tell me why the same man whose been stalking me home every night for the past two weeks is camped out across the street?"
---
I got homework to do and it is 3 am... Anyway, I hope you enjoy that! you better...... Chile anyways... See you soon my potatoes!