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Guilty Pleasures

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Prompt: Chat Blanc peeks through marinette's window and witnesses her having some "alone time". The key is she knows he is there...


(I took this prompt and twisted it around a little. A lot of people have tackled scenarios like this in fics before, and I wanted to do something a little different. I hope you don't mind.)


Marinette surged awake, sweat drenching her brow and pulse thrumming in her veins.

Remnants of a dream still pervaded her memory, his parted mouth with fangs glinting in the moonlight, the feral growl in his throat that bled so naturally into breathy moans. She could almost feel those claws still inside her, or that rough tongue on her skin.

In her dream his mouth and hands were all over her, nipping and kissing, touching and teasing. Lathing her body in attention and marks. He'd murmured something in her ear that she couldn't quite remember anymore, but the chill it left still tickled her skin.

So close. She'd been so close to that edge.

She'd wanted him so badly, and it was probably a blessing he wasn't curled up in her bed or she might have jumped him. It wouldn't have been that hard to seduce the white cat, she mused.

Dangerous, no doubt. A little reckless. But even if it was only half has hot as her dreams she thought it might be worth it. Dream Blanc had bitten the inside of her thigh...

Her hand snaked over her stomach, and down her hip to graze the spot he'd bitten in her dream. The flesh was as expected, unmarked.

Marinette released a sigh bordering on frustrated and disappointed.

Her left hand grazed her breast, another spot he'd been attentive with his teeth. Equally flawless, but the friction over her hardened nipple had her stifling a gasp.

That was surprisingly sensitive.

She brushed a thumb over the tip again, and bit down on her lip. A little pressure from her nail, she tried to imagine it was the side of his claw. The pressure on her lip becoming painful.

Her other hand traced the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, a slow circle, like she imagined his tongue might make, then dug her nails in where his teeth should have been.

"Chat!" His name came out involuntary.

It hurt, probably enough to leave a mark, but it brought a wash of fresh arousal that left her panting.

Fuck it.

She pressed her right palm into her crotch and ground her hips against it. A shuddering breath, the friction was nice, but not enough.

Her hand slipped beneath her skirt and panties, dipping between the her folds. The moisture there slicked her fingers as she dragged them over her clit.

"Ch-chat..."

She was thankful to be alone where he couldn't hear her. The last thing she needed was for him to hear the way she panted his name.

Marinette pressed her face into her pillow and swore she could smell him. That leather-and-tomcat scent that crawled inside her brain left her dizzy and wanting. She sank her teeth in the pillow and told herself it was his neck, pictured the marks she'd leave on him and the way he'd hiss at the ceiling.

Her left thumb circled her nipple again, and she slipped a finger inside herself.

Already it wasn't enough and she added a second, curling her wrist to push them deeper.

A sigh slipped out and she buried her face into the pillows. This was Chat, he was with her, touching her, his fingers pumping in and out. An akuma would try a third finger, he would be a little rough like that. She shuddered at the mix of discomfort and fullness that came with with the extra digit.

It only took a few moments for her to decide it was too much. She pulled them out to rub her clit again, using the pad of her thumb to press circles along the side, rather than top, of the sensitive nub.

What would his tongue feel like? Would it hurt or feel nice? The thought of him eating her out had her panting and shivering. She wanted to feel those fluffy ears brush her thighs, and the prick of his claw on her hips as he held her still.

Her imagination promised he would be good at it.

She was bucking against her hand, dangerously close to the edge. The dream and her following fantasy having done most of the work already.

Just a little more.

In her fantasy Chat was panting right along with her, working her with his sinful touch, whispering wicked nothings into her ear.

My purrincess~

Vivid green invaded the fantasy, morphing from the inky-blackness of shadows to join his white counterpart. Bringing with him a softness that her heart sorely missed.

She stroked her abused breast again, this time with the pad of her thumb, because Noir was gentle. And when she imagined his kiss, it was sweet and slow. The sensual chill of black leather instead of the warmth of fur.

Green and magenta traded looks, her heart's desire joining mind's guilty pleasure.

Her hand worked furiously as she imagined both Chats with her, kissing, licking, worshipping her. Sweet and salty, velvet and iron, fire and ice. Warm sunshine and tempest rain.

She loved them both.

It was enough to push her over that edge. Marinette came harder than she had in a long while. Her orgasm washed over in waves, each one taking a piece of the fantasy with it. Bit by bit, it dissolved away as she came down from her high.

With the slowing of her pulse so too came reality, spilling over her like the morning light through the tattered curtains. Sunrise already.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the sunny assault, and tried to hide her face in her pillows.

So many pillows. Copious amounts of pillow.

...it felt like she was in a nest.

Marinette managed to sneak a peek at her surroundings, before burying her face again. This time to try and hide the dangerous heat rising in her cheeks.

Oh god, it was a nest.

This was not her bed. It was Blanc's bed. A bed he guarded covetously and constantly told her to stay off of. And here this was the second time she'd fallen asleep in it? No third. Definitely the third time. God, she was making a habit of this wasn't she?

She was terribly curious about his absence, and why he hadn't told her to get lost earlier. Another peek at her surroundings informing her that Chat Blanc was indeed absent.

That was odd. She could have sworn he'd been present the night before, purring, exhausted from an akuma fight with Ladybug n' company, and enjoying the free scratches from his "little mouse." She'd managed to get him to let his guard down enough that they'd both fallen asleep as a result.

But that didn't explain why he was curiously absent this morning. Not that she was complaining. It was actually a huge relief.

"Are you quite finished?"

She snapped her head up to the little red Kwami perched on the head board. Tikki was staring down at her with a look of reproach.

"Don't you think that was a bit thoughtless? He could return at any time, and now you reek of pheromones, sex, and arousal."

Marinette bolted upright at that. "Pheromones? Like an animal?"

The little luck god blinked slowly. "You're the Ladybug, Marinette. Don't act like Chat's the only one affected by his miraculous. It's altered things about you in ways you don't even know. It's why you hate the cold so much, for example."

"And he can s-sense them?" She stared at the mess of blankets around her, and suddenly tossed them off to the end of the bed like they'd offended her.

"Yes," Tikki replied, "although I doubt he recognizes them. They'd only stimulate his hormones."

That was enough to motivate her off the bed. Marinette leapt to her feet, hastily fixing her rumpled clothing, and gathering her bag off the floor.

"You're worried now?" Tikki buzzed after her.

"Yes," she clipped back.

"Isn't it a little late for that?"

Marinette spared her Kwami a withering look. "There is no way I'm sticking around to explain all... THIS to Chat Blanc." Her arms gesticulated wildly towards herself and the bed. "Which I thought was my bed, just so we're clear." She jabbed a finger at Tikki's nose for emphasis. Or at least the general area a nose would have been if Tikki had one. Being the Ladybug Kwami she tended to smell things with her antenna.

"So we're just going to run away now?" The Kwami followed her host quickly out the front door of the apartment.

"That's exactly my plan," Marinette called back, starting her descent of the rickety stairwell.


An hour after sunrise Chat Blanc returned to his decrepit apartment his arms laden with spoils. Fresh bread, pastries, and coffee he'd pillaged from a local bakery. Not her bakery or course, but a rival patisserie. Only their fresh baked stock was raided, the people and building were mercifully spared. His mouse would be pleased with him, he was sure.

His boots landed on the rotting sill, knocking bits of wood and paint loose. Retracting his staff, he used his tail to keep balance as he ducked his head into the room.

"Ma Souris~" he purred, and sucked in a breathe, "Look what the cat dragged-"

The sound of boxes and paper cups hitting the floor was deafening.

The scent caught in his nose was compelling. Like a siren song to his senses.

Pupils blown and fur on end, he crawled from the window sill, over the forgotten pastries and split coffee, across the floor, and onto the bed.

Sinister magenta regarded the disarray of his bed sheets with intense fascination.

A tail flick, then another. A long moment passed crouched above the mess of blankets.

Then Chat pressed his nose to one of the pillows and inhaled.