The energy in the room had shifted. The initial shock had curdled into a thick, palpable electricity. I could feel their eyes—every single one of them—and they weren't just watching an accident anymore. They were witnessing something taboo.
Alya's hand was clamped over her mouth, but her eyes were alight with a voyeuristic thrill, already mentally composing a blog post. Nina was utterly captivated, jaw slack, drinking in the scene. I saw Sabrina fidget, nervously smoothing her skirt, her face a brilliant scarlet. Zoe had her hands pressed to her mouth, her wide eyes holding a faint, shocked blush. And Marinette... Marinette was biting her plump lower lip raw, her face burning with a mixture of stunned disbelief and a reluctant, flustered arousal that sent another strange thrill through me.
But Chloé... Chloé's expression was the most terrifying of all. It was pure, unadulterated lust, sharpened by a razor's edge of bitter jealousy. Her big blue eyes were locked onto us, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I could have sworn I heard it—a faint, desperate whimper of frustration from her direction.
There was no saving this situation, and Miss Bustier and I both knew it. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet...
Fuck. Her tits weren't just soft; they were a devastating, warm heaven against my face, a pillow of such impossible softness that my brain short-circuited, refusing to issue the command to pull away. My cock gave a violent, painful throb against the seam of my jeans, a raw ache of pent-up frustration and lust that had been simmering all class and was now boiling over. The pressure was unbearable, a tight coil of need winding in my gut, and the feeling of her—the heat, the yielding softness of her breasts pressed against my shaft through our clothes—was nothing short of incredible.
And she was feeling it, too. I could feel the fine tremor running through her, a quivering tension. Her breathing hitched, quickening from panic into something else entirely, her heartbeat a frantic, wild drum against my chest that seemed to sync with my own.
Then, I saw her face.
Miss Bustier's lips parted in a silent, shaky gasp. Her eyes were wide, the pupils blown black and glassy, drowning in the blue of her irises. A deep, mortified, aroused flush painted her cheeks. The look was a chaotic mix of shock, professional horror, and... a flicker of raw, undeniable excitement.
'Is... is she turned on?' The thought was a lightning strike, terrifying and electrifying. It should have been impossible, forbidden, a line that could never be crossed. Yet the evidence was screaming at me. The hard points of her nipples, erect and pressing insistently against the fabric of her blouse and into my chest. The shallow, rapid pant of her breath. The way her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm at the base of her throat.
'She is. She's turned on.' The confirmation sent a jolt of pure, primal anticipation straight through me. My cock twitched in response, a surge of possessive desire so potent it stole my breath.
Suddenly, Miss Bustier's senses snapped back, and she quickly scrambled to her feet before her hands hurriedly went to her chest, trying to cover herself and her massive tits as her cheeks turned a bright crimson.
"I-I'm so sorry, Miss Bustier!" I gasped, lurching to my own feet, my cheeks on fire. My voice was too high, too strained. "I didn't mean to... it was an accident, I swear! Please, forgive me!" The apology felt pathetic, meaningless against the image seared into my mind and the throbbing ache in my pants.
"N-no, it's quite alright, Adrien," she whispered, her voice trembling. She couldn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the floor as her fingers fumbled with the ruined buttons. A nervous, flustered smile flickered on and off her lips. "It was an accident. We all make mistakes... a lesson in... clumsiness." Her words were a fragile, professional facade over a chasm of sheer mortification.
"R-right," I stammered, the heat in my face unbearable. "I'm so sorry. Again."
"I know you are," she said, her tone softening for a fraction of a second. Her gaze finally flickered to mine, and in that fleeting connection, I saw it again—that flicker of excitement in her eyes before her professional mask slammed back down.
'Oh god, did she really get turned on by that?' I wondered, the thought sending a strange thrill through me.
"Anyway," Miss Bustier announced, her voice forcibly bright as she turned to the class, fully exposing her bare chest to them once more. "Dismissed. Get to lunch."
The room erupted into motion as we began rushing out of the classroom; a chorus of murmurs filled the air, the topic of their conversation obvious as they filed out.
'Oh god, did I really just do that?' I thought my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. 'Did the whole class just see me rip her shirt open and grind against her?'
"I-I'm going to get lunch," I blurted, needing to escape the suffocating, erotic energy of the room.
"Okay," Miss Bustier said, her tone as neutral as someone with their tits hanging out. "Go have a nice lunch, Adrien."
With that, I rushed out of the classroom, desperate to put some distance between myself and... that. My cheeks were still burning, and I could feel my erection throbbing, my cock aching and straining against the confines of my jeans, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. But, in all honesty, I had no idea.
All I knew was that it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me.
Well, for now, anyway.
-x-X-x-
The walk to the library was, thankfully, uneventful, though it was a bit awkward because the front of my jeans was bulging obscenely. I had to take a quick detour, not wanting to draw attention to myself, even though a few people still stared at the massive, prominent bulge, especially the girls.
I had thought about taking care of myself in the bathroom, but decided against it, thinking that I had enough trouble on my hands and didn't need any more.
So, I decided to go to the library to find a book that would help take my mind off... recent events.
It was there that I spotted Marinette sitting alone at one of the tables, clearly trying to work on her history paper and failing to focus. Her head was bent low over her notebook, and her cheeks were flushed pink.
Yes. That's what I needed right now—just go over there and ask her if you can work on the assignment together, maybe even talk about it. Just talk, and not think about Miss Bustier, or your hard-on, or the way her tits felt.
The idea sounded innocent enough and was exactly what I needed.
So, without a second thought, I made my way over to her.
"Hey, Marinette," I said, walking over with what I hoped was a friendly smile and gave her a light tap on the shoulder.
That might not have been the best thing to do with someone as skittish as Marinette, as she bolted up in her seat and turned around to look at me. When she did, the pencil fell from her hand, and she stared at me with wide, startled eyes, her face flushing even deeper.
"A-Adrien!" She squeaked, her voice several octaves higher than usual. "W-w-what are you doing here? I mean, not that you shouldn't be here, or anything, I'm just surprised to see you here.
. "Adrien! Hi! I mean, hello! What's up? I mean—" She scrambled to her feet, her chair scraping loudly.
"I was just wondering if you'd maybe want to study together? Like we did the other day?" I asked, my voice thankfully steady.
Her face went through a series of rapid, adorable changes—surprise, panic, then dawning joy. "Y-yes! Of course! I'd love to! I just need to—" She gestured vaguely at her bag and, in her trademark Marinette clumsiness, tried to step around the table leg while looking at me.
It happened in slow motion. Her foot caught on the strap of her own bag. Her eyes widened. "Whoa—!"
She hurriedly moved toward me, instinctively reaching out her hand for support. But the sudden rush caused her to lose her balance, and she accidentally bumped into me, causing us both to fall backwards with a loud THUD.
'Shit, again?'
The world tilted, and then I was on my back. The fall was a soft, chaotic tangle of limbs, and my only coherent thought was a spike of relief that Marinette wasn't hurt. That relief was short-lived, instantly incinerated by the reality of our position.
.
------------------>
.
She was straddling me.
And, to my absolute and utter mortification, the warm, soft weight of her pink jeans-clad ass was pressing directly onto my crotch. For the second time today, I was in a compromising position with a girl, and, to make matters worse, I was still rock-hard from earlier, and she could definitely feel it.
'Holy fuck, this is embarrassing...' I thought, as I lay there, staring up at her. I couldn't see her expression, but judging from her stiff posture, she was mortified.
But it was then that I felt something...wet? I couldn't tell for sure, but I was almost certain that I had felt something wet seeping through her jeans and onto my crotch. The tip of my dick pressed directly into that softness, and I could feel the warm, damp fabric rubbing against the sensitive skin.
'Wait, is she—'
.
------------->
.
She shifted, lifting herself slightly, and I thought, Thank God, it's over.
I was wrong.
.
------------------->
.
Instead of moving off me, she sank back down, her firm, plump ass pressing right onto my cock and sending a jolt of electric pleasure coursing through my veins. A raw, ragged groan slipped out of my throat as I felt the pressure and friction of her jean-clad ass on my throbbing erection, and her weight on top of me was making it even harder.
'Holy shit... she's actually...?'
Then she began to move. A slow, rhythmic shifting back and forth, up and down, grinding herself against me. A groan clawed at my throat, and I bit my tongue hard, desperately fighting to keep myself from making a sound as quiet, frequent moans slipped from her lips as she ground against me. Soon, I felt a damp heat seep through my jeans, and her body began to shudder atop mine, her movements growing more frantic.
Fuck, was she seriously humping me?
.
------------->
.
Her ass felt incredible, soft and pliant against my shaft, the firm, round curves yielding to the insistent pressure of my cock. Each movement caused a fresh wave of pleasure to wash over me, sending sparks of electricity dancing along my nerves. Her jeans were rough, but it added a delicious friction that made my cock twitch and throb.
It was then that she raised herself up a third time, and a desperate hope flared in me—she's stopping. But no. She got to her knees, poised above me for a terrifying second, before dropping her full weight back down. Our bodies slammed together, my covered erection digging into her with a force that made me see stars.
Marinette let out a moan so loud and raw that I was sure the whole school would come running as her eyes rolled back in her head, her body going rigid as her thighs quivered, and a hot, sticky wetness flooded the front of her jeans, thoroughly soaking through.
'Oh fuck, did she just cum?'
That question was answered a second later, when she lifted herself up on trembling arms and looked down at me, her face flushed, her pupils blown black and glassy, her eyes brimming with shocked delight, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips.
'Holy shit, did she just cum?'
A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over me, but the feeling was quickly eclipsed by an intense, overwhelming desire as my cock twitched and throbbed against her, my erection straining against the tight confines of my jeans. I was so close, and it took all my self-control not to just give in and lose myself in the sensation as she rode out the violent waves of her orgasm, my own body trembling with a mixture of lust and restraint.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIP!!!!
.
--------------->
.
I was too far gone, too overwhelmed by the sight and feeling of her climax to think straight. All rational thought had been burned away, replaced with a primal, instinctive desire to seek my own release. And, in that moment, I forgot where we were, the fact that we were in the library, the fact that we could get caught, the fact that we weren't dating or anything, and my hands shot out to grip her hips, my fingers digging into her supple flesh, holding her there.
Then, I came.
I came hard, my hips jerking as I thrust upwards, the front of my jeans completely soaked with my cum as the pressure and heat were just too much. My vision went white, a low, ragged growl slipping out as the tension shattered. The relief was almost painful, and the sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
It was a full minute before either of us could move, the silence broken only by our heavy breathing and the faint whimpers that escaped her. We were both a mess, her hair sticking to her sweat-soaked forehead, her eyes glassy, her cheeks a deep, cherry-red colour.
My mind was spinning, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
'Did we... did we seriously just do that? In the fucking library?'
Afterwards, she went limp. The strange smile faded from her face, replaced by an expression of shock, her eyes going wide. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out, and her entire body seemed to turn red as the weight of the situation sank in.
Afterwards, she went limp. The strange smile faded from her face, replaced by an expression of shock, her eyes going wide. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out, and her entire body seemed to turn red as the weight of the situation sank in.
Finally, she managed a single, shaky, mortified whisper: "Adrien, I..."
Then, before I could say anything, she scrambled off of me and was about to run, but I caught her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
"Wait, Marinette!" I called, my voice a low, urgent whisper. "Just, hold on a sec, okay?"
She didn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the floor. There was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through her as she stood there, her breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts.
"Look, Marinette, I just want to make sure that you're okay," I said, my tone gentle, as I tried to calm her down. "I mean, you didn't exactly plan on doing that, right?"
The question hung in the air for a long moment, and when she finally answered, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I... n-no, I didn't."
"Hey, it's alright. No ill will was taken. Accidents happen." I gave her a small, reassuring smile, hoping to calm her down. "Besides, if you want, we can always forget this happened and pretend like it never did. How does that sound?"
She swallowed thickly, and when she spoke again, her voice was a little steadier, though her face was still red. "Y-yeah. Okay. Thank you, Adrien. For... not getting mad."
"Like I said, no ill will was taken," I said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "And besides, you know... if you wanted, I'd be happy to do this again."
Her eyes went even wider, if that was possible. "I-I—w-what?!"
"Hey, no pressure," I chuckled as I leaned in just a fraction closer, my gaze flicking down to her lips and then back to her wide, startled eyes. "But just so you know… if you wanted…" I paused, letting the implication hang in the air between us. "I'd be happy to do this again."
Her breath hitched. I could feel a fine tremor run through her.
"And maybe," I continued, my voice barely a whisper now, "we could… add some benefits."
Before she could process the words, before my own nerve could fail, I closed the remaining distance and kissed her. It wasn't a gentle, tentative kiss. It was firm, deliberate, and full of the pent-up frustration and wild desire of the entire, insane day. My hands slid from her waist to the small of her back, pressing her flush against me. For a heart-stopping second, she was rigid with shock. Then, with a soft, desperate moan that vibrated against my mouth, she melted. Her hands came up to clutch at the front of my shirt, her nails digging into the fabric.
.
--------------->
.
I could feel the heat radiating from her, the warmth of her soft, supple body as her lips parted, allowing me to deepen the kiss. It was everything I had imagined it would be, her mouth hot and slick against mine, the taste of her sweet and intoxicating. My tongue swiped across the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open further, and her breath hitched.
A shiver ran through me, and I broke the kiss. My breathing was ragged, my pulse pounding a frantic rhythm in my ears. I drew back a fraction, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty or regret, but her expression was one of raw, unbridled lust, her pupils blown black and glassy.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless. The library, the world, had vanished entirely. Her pupils were blown wide, dark with a desire that mirrored my own.
'Fuck, that's hot...'
The thought sent a surge of raw, primal desire coursing through me. Her stammering, flustered innocence was cute and all, but the way she was looking at me—the heat, the wanton need, the hunger in her eyes—it was a side of her that I had never seen before, and it was driving me crazy.
I wanted to see more.
.
---------------->
.
"Maybe without the clothes next time." A full-body shiver wracked her frame as she let out a small whimper, as if the very idea was too much for her. But the message in her eyes was clear: Yes.
After a bit, I released her, and she took a wobbly step back, her hands fluttering nervously. "I… I should… I need to go… change." Her gaze darted down to the prominent, damp patch on the front of her pink jeans, and then, inevitably, to the even larger, unmistakable stain soaking through my own.
"Yeah," I agreed, my voice a little husky. "Me too."
She fumbled in her bag, her movements frantic, and pulled out a small, pink notebook. With a trembling hand, she scribbled something, tore out the page, and practically shoved it into my hands.
"H-here! My number! In case you… you know… want to… study again!" The words tumbled out in a rush before she spun on her heel and fled the library, leaving a trail of flustered energy in her wake.
I looked down at the slip of paper. Her handwriting was surprisingly neat, given the circumstances. A slow, triumphant smile spread across my face.
-x-X-x-
But my triumph faded as the cold dampness became a pressing issue. I couldn't go to class like this. The walk of shame and the inevitable, embarrassing gossip were more than I could handle right now.
My mind scrambled for options. My house was too far, so my only choice was to change into my PE clothes. If anyone asked, I could just say it was because I dropped a water bottle and spilt water all over myself. Clumsy, right? It was flimsy, but better than the truth.
I grabbed my things and hurried away. Thankfully, the halls were empty after the final bell, and I slipped into the locker room unnoticed.
Relief washed over me as I felt safe. However, as the door shut behind me, I realised I wasn't alone. I heard someone humming in the shower area, and a cloud of steam drifted out into the locker room.
I should leave. Right now. I should slip back out that door and find a bathroom stall—anywhere but here. But my feet feel rooted to the spot. Is it curiosity? Maybe. A strange sense of morbid fascination, maybe. Or perhaps, a darker part of me, a part that I rarely acknowledge, wants to see who is in the shower.
But for whatever reason, my feet carry me forward. Slowly, quietly, I make my way through the locker room, treading lightly so as not to alert the shower-goer. When I reach the end of the row, I peek around the corner, and my heart skips a beat.
There, a mere ten feet away, was Zoe, completely naked.
I had always seen Zeo as a little sister, and in many ways, she was, but now, I was seeing her in a completely new light, a light that had my cock aching and throbbing.
.
--------------->
.
Standing under the spray of the showerhead, her back was turned to me and giving me a clear view of her plump, shapely ass and the tight pucker between her cheeks. Her long, silky blonde hair was plastered to her head and cascaded down her slender back, the tips just barely brushing the dimples above her round, full ass as her hands slowly traced patterns over her curves and giving me a clear view of her tits. Even though they weren't as large as Miss Bustier's, they were still a solid pair of D-cups, and I couldn't help but stare at the way her nipples were pebbled and stiff.
There was a tiny voice inside my head telling me to get the hell out of there, but the rest of me was frozen in place, hypnotised by the sight of her. She was so fucking beautiful. And, despite myself, the thought of what was between her legs—a smooth, clean-shaven pussy, no doubt—made my cock twitch.
Then she bent over.
It was made even worse when, without warning, she suddenly bent over, her ass pointed directly at me. My breath caught in my throat, and my dick throbbed painfully as I watched the shower's spray wash down her back, over her perfect, heart-shaped ass, and along her smooth, supple thighs.
It was a vision of pure temptation.
For a second, I was transfixed. Then, without thinking, I stepped into the shower, and my eyes locked on the soft, inviting curves of her ass, the water streaming down the perfect, creamy expanse of skin.
That voice was promptly silenced as madness took hold, and all rational thought was lost as I dove face-first into her ass, my hands reaching out to grip her hips, fingers sunk into the cheeks of her plump ass.
.
---------------->
.
"Uhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah~!!!"
The noise she made was a mix between a scream and a moan, a high-pitched yelp of surprise that cut off in a low, throaty moan as my tongue found its mark.
Heaven.
That was the only word for it.
Heaven.
Pressing against her phat, plump ass, feeling the firm, round cheeks against my face, and her juices flowing freely into my mouth, the taste was incredible. Her pussy was warm, wet, and so incredibly soft. My hands gripped her hips, my fingers sinking into her plush, pillowy flesh. They moulded them like dough, pinching and stretching them apart so that I could bury my face deeper into her perfect, plump rear.
Her scent, her taste, her warmth, they were overwhelming, intoxicating. I was drunk on it. My tongue plunged deep inside her as I began to devour her.
.
--------------->
.
It was a peculiar taste but definitely not a bad one, a taste I could never hope to describe, a mixture of sweet and savoury, something uniquely her. I couldn't get enough. My lips, teeth, and tongue were all over her, attacking her most sensitive areas, tasting and exploring every inch of her. The sounds that she was making were almost too much; her cries and moans were like music to my ears. Nose deep in that ass, I inhaled her, breathing her in deeply, letting her scent wash over me as I feasted on her, and she loved every second of it.
My lips then curved into a wicked smile as a devilish thought came to mind, and, without warning, I moved from her pussy to her puckered rosebud, and my tongue swiped against the tight, wrinkled ring of her ass.
"UHHHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!" She screamed as the unexpected stimulation sent shockwaves through her, her hips bucking under the force of my tongue, and her hands slamming against the wall, bracing herself against the onslaught of sensations.
Now, many would think that a girl's asshole was not a pleasant thing to have your tongue in, but I couldn't disagree more. To me, there was nothing more delicious, more arousing, more intoxicating than the tight, warm pucker of a woman's ass. And Zoe's was no exception.
With a grunt, I pressed my face into her ass, forcing my tongue deeper into her hole, tasting the salty, musky flavour of her ass, the tight ring of her anus clenching around my tongue as I lapped at her.
.
------------------->
.
"UHHHHH, FUCK~!!!!" She cried out, her body shaking and trembling, her pussy gushing and leaking her juices down my chin as I devoured her, eating her ass like a starving man. Then I brought my right hand around to her dripping wet pussy, sliding two fingers into her while continuing to eat her ass, the combined sensation sending her into a fit of pure, erotic bliss.
But not nearly enough. I knew she could handle more. So, I moved my thumb up, rubbing it against her clit, pressing and rubbing in small, fast circles, the added stimulation pushing her over the edge.
.
-------------->
.
"OGHHHUUUGGHOOOOOOOO- UUOOHHAAHHAAHAAAIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE-AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~~~" An ear-splitting scream ripped from her throat, her pussy convulsing around my fingers, her whole body going rigid as a wet and sticky shower of ecstasy gushed from her, bathing my face and hand.
Slowly, I withdrew from her, licking her juices from my lips and fingers as her body went limp, and she slumped to the floor. Her breath came in short, ragged pants, her eyes glazed and unfocused. The air was thick with steam and the potent, musky scent of sex as we both struggled to catch our breath.
What had I done?
What had I been thinking?
Had I really just shoved my tongue in Zoe's ass and fingered her until she squirted all over me?
Fuck.
I had.
Guilt and embarrassment flooded me as Zoe suddenly seemed to realise the implications of what had happened. Her eyes went wide, her face turning a deep crimson colour before jumping up to her feet and hiding behind the shower curtain.
"W-what the hell?! Adrien?! W-w-w-what the fuck are you doing?!" She shouted, her voice echoing in the empty locker room, her words frantic and panicked. "W-why did you... I mean... I-I... I can't believe you just... Why?"
"I'm sorry! I... I don't know what came over me," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I saw you, and you were just so... and it was like my body had a mind of its own, and..."
A silence fell between us, broken only by the sound of the shower running as we both struggled to process what had just happened. Then Zoe said something, barely a whisper, but loud enough to cut through the steam.
"Did you like it?"
I paused, not sure how to answer. On one hand, what I had done was wrong. It was a gross invasion of privacy and a huge violation of trust. But on the other hand...
"Yes," I admitted, the word heavy with guilt. "Yes, I did."
....
"Next time, ask first, please."
"What?"
"Just, you know... if you want to do... what you did, next time, ask me first. Okay?"
"I... alright, I will."
"Thank you."
-x-X-x-
The rest of the day had been luckily uneventful, thank god. No more accidental sex with anyone, no more public boners, no more weirdness, and I had successfully avoided the girls, especially Chloé.
Arriving home after school and with no plans for the evening, I headed straight for my room with the intention of spending the evening on the internet and then playing video games until bedtime.
But as I entered my room, I noticed a letter in the middle of the table, a letter that had not been there when I left.
"Weird," I mumbled as I walked over and picked it up. There was no stamp, no address, and no return address, but it did have my name on the envelope. Opening it, I pulled out the single sheet of paper inside and began reading.
Dear Adrien,
Come to this location as your other half.
MF
"Yep, that's the old man's handwriting, all right," Plagg muttered, hovering over my shoulder and reading the letter with me. "And never was one for pleasantries, is he? Couldn't come over and say it in person?"
"Yeah, and have it expose my secret identity to Nat and other staff members?" I pointed out, putting the letter back into the envelope.
"Fair point," Plagg acknowledged. "Anyway, let's ditch this place and have fun already. You're not really going to stick around here and be bored, are you?"
"Not a chance," I chuckled as I stuffed the letter into my pocket, "Claws out."
-x-X-x-
Sneaking out the window and onto the rooftops, I made my way across the city to the rendezvous point where Ladybug was also standing on the rooftop, waiting for me.
"Ha, what are the odds of seeing my watermelon-themed heroine on the dazing moonlit night?" I flirted with her as I walked over to her, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, the odds of meeting on the rooftop on a moonlit night are pretty high when you are also asked to be here, tomcat?" She shot back, smirking as she crossed her arms, causing those lovely pair of mounds to press together, drawing my eyes and making my cock twitch. "By the way, my eyes are up here, cat boy."
"Yeah, but it's hard not to look down there, Ladybug," I replied with a sly smirk as she rolled her eyes at me.
"In your dreams, alley cat," She quipped, her cheeks slightly pink as she looked away. Before I had a chance to compliment her behind, a familiar voice spoke up.
"It's nice to see you two are getting along so well." Standing a few feet away from us was none other than the Old Man himself, his ever-present, mysterious grin on his face as he walked over to us.
"Hey, old man, what's up?" I asked, a bit confused and curious. "What's this all about? Why the sudden call to arms?"
"Follow me," Master Fu said, entering the building and gesturing for us to follow him. We did, and he led us down to a large dojo, the walls lined with weapons and training gear.
"Do you like? You two needed to be formally trained in the ways of the Miraculous, so I got you a place where you can come and train at any time," Master Fu explained, a proud grin on his face, before adding, "Well, except for 3:30 to 4:30 pm, that's when the mom yoga class who were sharing the space is happening."
"Thank you, Master," Ladybug said, giving a respectful bow. "We will make good use of this space."
"How did you even manage to rent this place out for us, and on such short notice?" I asked, still amazed at the whole thing.
"You'd be surprised at the connections and resources one has when you are over 150 years old," Master Fu laughed, his grin widening. "Also, I run a massage and antiques shop on the side."
"Fair enough," I replied, nodding. "So, what's the deal? Is this a training session?"
"Indeed it is," Master Fu replied, his smile never wavering. "First, we're going to see just what the two of you can do, so square up in the middle of the room and face off against each other."
"But wait, if we fight one another, won't we end up wrecking the place by accident?" Ladybug questioned, and I couldn't help but agree.
"A valid concern. Allow me to demonstrate. Wayzz, Shell On!"
In a flash of jade light, Master Fu was clad in the armour of the Turtle Miraculous. With a resonant thud, he planted his shield into the floor. A dome of shimmering green energy erupted from it, encasing the entire training area, blocking the view from the outside.
"Whoa. You've been holding out on us, old man!"
"The power of protection," Fu explained, detransforming as the barrier held firm. "It will contain your energies. It can withstand even multiple Cataclysms. So, do not hold back. Show me the true extent of your abilities, not as individual heroes, but as partners who know how the other moves."
With that, he stepped outside the barrier, and Ladybug and I squared up in the middle of the dojo, the two of us facing off against one another.
"Ready, My Lady?" I asked, smirking confidently at her.
"Ready, Chaton," She shot back, mirroring my expression as the two of us got into fighting stances.
It was on.
-x-X-x-
Ladybug moved first as her yo-yo swung out in an arc, and I quickly leapt over it and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding her next attack as she lashed out with a kick. Pushing off the balls of my feet, I dodged, rolling out of the way, and the momentum from my dodge, I sprang forward, my baton extended, and the two of us locked in combat, our weapons clashing as we traded blows.
She was fast, and I had to give her credit where it was due, but she lacked to the finesse and precision that my fencing experience gave me, and soon I had her on the defensive as I tripped her, and she landed flat on her ass.
"Point to Chat Noir!" Master Fu's voice cut through the tension.
"No fair," Ladybug grumbled, pushing herself up onto her elbows with a pout. "You've had years of combat lessons. That's basically cheating."
"All's fair in love and war, My Lady," I smirked, leaning casually on my baton as I looked down at her.
"Enough," Master Fu interjected, stepping between us. "Ladybug, your strength lies not in matching his brute force, but in your agility and strategic mind. You must learn to leverage them."
"Yeah, leave the rough-and-tumble to me," I added with a cocky grin. "Your brilliant plans are what really win the day. Though I must say, the package they come in is a very nice bonus."
"You're impossible," she huffed, scrambling to her feet, a flush creeping across her cheeks.
"And you, Chat Noir," Fu said, turning his stern gaze to me. Before I could react, his cane tapped sharply—thwack—against my head.
"Ow! What was that for?"
Thwack. "For your recklessness," he stated calmly. "Victory through strength alone is fleeting. You are too cocky, too reliant on power. You must learn control and foresight. A hammer is a tool, but it cannot perform the work of a scalpel."
"Geez, you sound like my father," I complained, only to earn another light tap.
"This is a foundation," Master Fu continued, undeterred. "But there is much work ahead. Henceforth, you will both meet here weekly for training. It will hone your skills and fortify your bond for the final confrontation with Le Papillon."
"You got it, Master," Ladybug said, her voice firm with resolve.
"Wouldn't miss it," I nodded, my grin returning.
"Excellent. Now, assume your positions," he instructed, stepping back. "Let us begin again."
With a sigh, we faced each other once more as the sparring began anew.
-x-X-x-
During the sparring session, I couldn't help but feel a little turned on, as the adrenaline coursed through me, and the thrill of the fight was exhilarating, not to mention the way her suit clung to her curves, showing off her ass and boobs. Sweat glistened on her body, and her skin glowed under the fluorescent lights as her hair flowed around her.
She was beautiful.
'Down, boy, this is not the time for a boner.' I mentally scolded myself, trying to keep my focus on the fight and not her figure as I lunged forward, aiming to knock her legs out from under her. However, deflected a blow with her yo-yo, causing me to stumble forward, my balance completely lost. With a yelp of surprise, I collided with her, and we tumbled to the mat in a tangled heap of limbs as her yo-yo went flying, landing somewhere behind us.
A stunned silence fell, broken only by our ragged breathing.
.
----------------------->
.
Then I registered the situation. I was lying on top of her with my face buried between her ample bosom, the soft, round mounds pressed against my face and her legs were wrapped around mine, the soft, supple skin brushing against the exposed areas.
We both froze, not sure what to do as it looked like I had been intentionally groping her breasts and she had been trying to hold my cock.
"An... instructive conclusion to today's session," "An... instructive conclusion to today's session," Master Fu stated just outside the barrier, his face neutral as the two of us untangled ourselves, a bright blush on our faces. "You have successfully demonstrated the importance of spatial awareness, Chat Noir. And Ladybug, you have learned that even a successful evasion can lead to an... unexpected grapple."
To say that I was embarrassed was an understatement as Ladybug and I were both blushing furiously.
"I believe that is enough for today. "He deactivated the shield, the green energy dissolving into motes of light. "We will work on your respective... disciplines... next time." With a final, cryptic smile, he turned and left, leaving the two of us alone on the mat. I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I scrambled off her as if electrocuted.
"I am so, so sorry, My Lady! I tripped, I swear! And—"
.
--------------->
.
She sat up, refusing to meet my eyes. She hugged her knees to her chest, her entire posture screaming embarrassment. "Just... just don't talk," she mumbled into her knees in a manner that was quite cute. "Not a word."
"Right, right," I said, holding my hands up, palms out. "I won't say a thing."
A long, awkward silence hung between us as we both tried to collect ourselves and not think about the position we had just been in. Finally, she spoke.
"I'll get you next time."
-x-X-x-
The familiar rush of adrenaline filled me as I swung from rooftop to rooftop, leaping through the air with ease. I could feel the wind whipping through my hair and the cool night air on my skin, a welcome relief from the hot, muggy air of the city below. The streets were dark and empty, save for the occasional late-night straggler, as the distant hum of traffic, the glow of streetlights, and the faint sounds of sirens filled the air.
My mind was clear, focused on the task at hand, my senses sharp and alert, and my heart racing as I raced across the rooftops before stopping when I reached the edge of the building, taking a moment to catch my breath and survey the area.
Below me, three dark shapes were circling a single, struggling figure in the middle of an alley, their features hidden by the shadows cast by the dim light, but the malicious intent in their eyes was clear.
"Looks like some people added 'getting clawed' to their evening plans," I muttered to myself, a smirk tugging at my lips.
I didn't bother with a quip this time. Silence was better for a surprise attack. I dropped straight down, using my baton to control the descent at the last second.
-x-X-x-
I landed behind one of the would-be assailants, snapped my baton into a staff, and swept his feet out from under him. CRACK. The sound of metal hitting his skull echoed in the damp air as he dropped like a sack of bricks.
The other two whipped around, eyes wide in the gloom.
"Shit! It's that fucking cat!" one of them choked out, his voice shaking. He stumbled back and shoved the trembling shopkeeper between us like a human shield. Pathetic. I grinned beneath my mask. This was too easy.
"You'll regret messing with us!" the other roared, charging with a knife that glinted under the pale streetlight. But it was nothing I couldn't handle—
THWUMP.
White-hot fire exploded across my back. My breath left me in a ragged gasp as I was thrown forward, shoulder slamming into brick with a sickening SMACK. Stars burst behind my eyes. My ears rang. I tried to push myself up, but my body wasn't listening.
A voice cut through the haze, cool and mocking.
"And here I thought the famous alley-cat would put up more of a fight."
.
--------------->
.
She stood in the alley's dim light, her posture loose but tense, like a wire. She looked young, maybe my age, with an athlete's build—toned and ready. Her sharp cheekbones and even sharper blue eyes pinned me where I lay. Messy blonde hair was held back by a black headband with an orange stripe, and a matching bow sat on top like a challenge. She wore a white, tied-off top, black-and-grey shorts with 193 stamped on the thigh, and orange gloves. Everything about her said she was here to wreck me.
"B-Boss!" one of the goons stammered behind me. "What're you—?"
"Cleaning up your mess," she cut in, voice like ice. "How many times have I said don't draw attention? And you idiots try to rob some old lady in the open? Are you actually stupid?"
"Well, technically she's more mid-fifties—"
"Shut up." Her glare shut me up before she turned back to her lackeys. "Get out. Now. I'll deal with you later."
They didn't need to be told twice. In seconds, the alley was empty except for her, me, and the heavy scent of violence hanging in the air.
She cracked her knuckles, the sound crisp in the silence.
"Now, I don't like it when someone in a dumb cat costume messes with my crew. Even if they are incompetent assholes, it makes me look bad." She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. "Hurts my rep."
I pushed myself up on one elbow, grinning behind the mask. "Didn't know a girl your size had a rep to hurt."
She didn't laugh. Her expression darkened into a snarl.
"Nice try, pretty boy," she spat, before lunging.
Her kick was fast—but I was faster. Sidestepped, caught her ankle, and used her momentum to spin her off her feet. She hit the ground with a grunt, but rolled and came up in a crouch.
Damn, she's quick.
"Nice try, but you're going to have to do better than that," I said, taunting her as she pushed herself to her feet.
"Oh, I will," She shot back, wiping her mouth. "Oh, I'm just getting started," she hissed. "Cocky little shits like you think you can take everything." She raised her fists, eyes locked on mine. "But not me. I'll be the one who takes everything from you. And then some."
She attacked again, a whirlwind of slashing energy and brutal, close-range kicks. I parried, the force jolting up my arms. She wasn't just fast. She was relentless, driven by cruel intent. Every block brought another strike, every dodge led to a feint, pushing me deeper into the alley's dead end. Her bare feet slapped against the grimy pavement, each step flexing those powerful calves, those thick thighs bunching with power. The motion made her hips sway, her tight ass shifting beneath those white shorts with every pivot.
"Not so cocky now, are you?" she hissed, driving her knee at my ribs. I twisted and took the hit on my arm instead—immediate numbness. "All that talk, and you're just another weakling backing into a corner."
"You talk too much," I replied, spotting my chance. She started to shift her weight, bracing to defend, but I was already inside her guard—right in that vulnerable spot where she was strong but couldn't see me coming.
My left hand shot out. Not to strike—to claim.
My fingers dug into the worn leather at the back of her collar and gripped tight. I used my momentum and her surprise to spin her around with a hard, yanking pull.
For one perfect, broken second, her back was to me. Off-balance. Unready. Exposed.
And what a view.
The skin-tight black suit clung to the curve of her spine, dipping into the small of her back before flaring out into those perfectly sculpted, heart-shaped globes of her ass. The white shorts hugged them like a prayer, the fabric pulled taut across the swell of each cheek. Her thighs—thick, powerful, goddamn—flexed as she tried to regain her footing. Through the suit, I could see every contour: the firm muscle, the soft give of flesh, the way her ass quivered with tension.
Adrien's arousal: 35/100 (Focus.)
My right hand came down. Not an arc—straight down. A sentence.
SPANK.
.
------------------->
.
The sound cracked through the alley's silence—a sharp, meaty SMACK of leather meeting fabric-clad flesh. My palm burned with the impact, a stinging, satisfying jolt racing up my arm. It wasn't a tap. It wasn't a tease. It was a claim—hard, stinging, decisive—and it ripped a shocked, sharp gasp right from her lungs.
Her whole body locked up. Spine rigid. Eyes blown wide.
The impact made her ass jiggle—a full, rippling bounce that travelled through both cheeks, the flesh wobbling obscenely beneath the thin fabric. The red imprint of my hand bloomed across the tan skin visible at the edge of her shorts.
"What the—?" She started to say, but the words died in her throat as a second slap followed—just as hard, just as sudden—landing on the other cheek.
SPANK.
Another jiggle. Another ripple. Another sharp cry.
A third landed. SPANK. A fourth. SPANK. Each one drew a sharp little cry of surprise, each one made her ass bounce and quiver like jelly, the firm muscle giving way just enough for the impact to reverberate through her whole body.
"Ow! H-hey, wait, s-stop that!" She finally managed to stammer out, her voice cracking slightly. She tried to squirm out of my grip, but I had a solid hold on her collar and didn't budge an inch. Instead, I pulled her a little closer, my free hand coming up and cupping the underside of her bottom—the heel of my palm resting against the crease between her thighs and rear.
"S-seriously, what do you think you're doing?" She demanded, her voice a half-octave higher than usual, a deep blush creeping up her tan cheeks. She tried to glare at me, but there was distinct nervousness in her gray eyes now. She tried to get free.
But she wasn't exactly putting up a real fight as I pulled her, stumbling, until she was bent over my knee—her ass sticking out towards me, her legs spread just a little too wide to be called dignified.
SPANK.
"N-no, seriously, what the hell?" She yelped, trying to push herself off my lap. But she didn't have the leverage or the position to break my grip as I brought my hand down again.
SPANK.
Her body tensed. A yelp. A jiggle.
SPANK. SPANK. SPANK.
"W-wait, stop! What the hell are you doing?!" Her voice rose. "Seriously, are you insane? Stop that! You can't do—"
SMACK.
Her protests cut off with a squeal as the spanks continued, falling in quick succession. With each one, her ass quivered and jiggled, the firm muscle bouncing, the fabric of her shorts straining to contain the motion.
"I-I'm not going to stand for this! You can't treat me like—"
SMACK.
"Stop that! Let go of—"
SMACK.
"Hey, knock it off!"
SMACK.
"You're starting to piss me off, you—"
SMACK.
Her protests started to fade, replaced by little whimpers and moans. The blows came hard and fast now, raining down on her exposed flesh. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin through the thin fabric, feel the way her body trembled with each impact.
Her ass was a deep, flushed red now, the skin beneath the shorts burning hot. The jiggle had become a constant wobble, her cheeks swaying with every spank, the motion hypnotic. Her thighs—those thick, powerful, tree-trunk thighs—pressed together, then spread, then pressed again, her arousal evident in the way they glistened with sweat.
I could tell she was slowly reaching her limit—her body trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. But that stubborn part of her refused to give in.
Impressive willpower. But it wasn't going to change anything.
"You're a real handful, you know that?" I commented, letting out a low chuckle.
"H-how would you know?" She shot back, words dripping with venom despite the tremor in her voice.
"I'll show you." I tightened my grip on her collar.
"Wha—?"
Without a word, I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and underwear and yanked them down.
The smooth tan skin of her ass was revealed—reddened, heated, perfect. Two full, round globes of firm, powerful flesh, each cheek a masterpiece of muscle and softness. The curve of her hips flared out from her narrow waist, the dip of her spine leading down to that incredible, mouth-watering divide between her cheeks.
And beneath, the damp, dark fabric of her panties—soaked through, clinging to her folds.
"Don't you dare—"
.
--------------->
.
Ignoring her protests, my bare hand slipped through the wreckage of fabric, fingers brushing the heated, sensitive skin beneath. Her thighs clenched instinctively, but too late. My middle finger found her folds, traced their outline—then delved deep into her wet, quivering pussy.
"You can't—"
Whatever protest she was about to make died in a ragged gasp. Her hips bucked involuntarily, pushing her cunt deeper against my hand. Her inner walls clenched tightly around my finger—slick, hot, desperate. Her juices coated my palm instantly.
I began to move. Slow. Deep. Deliberate.
Her hips jerked. Her back arched.
"A-ah, oh god, stop it..."
Weak protests. Fading into incoherent whimpers and moans as her body betrayed her completely. Her pussy responded to every stroke, the heat and wetness increasing, the musky scent of her arousal flooding the alley. I could feel her growing—feel her losing herself.
My other hand released her collar, snaked around her waist, and found the knotted cloth belt of her top. Efficient movements. Free.
She was too overwhelmed, too lost between her legs to stop me.
I looped the belt around her throat—not to choke, but with firm, claiming pressure. Knotted it securely at the side of her neck, leaving a long, dangling end.
I gave the makeshift leash a sharp tug.
Her head pulled back. Her spine forced into a deeper arch. Her ass pressed harder onto my hand.
A guttural moan was dragged from her—pain, pleasure, surrender, all in one.
"There," I murmured, my finger pumping deep, my other hand mastering her leash. "Now you look the part."
I used the leash to adjust her—pulling her back onto my finger with controlled force. She was utterly mine: bent over my knee, ass exposed and red, being finger-fucked in a dirty alley, wearing her own belt as a collar.
.
----------------->
.
And she loved it.
-x-X-x-
.
--------------->
.
Seeing her like this—hearing her moan, feeling her pussy quiver—made my cock throb, straining painfully against my zipper.
I couldn't resist anymore.
With a single, smooth motion, I withdrew my hand. Before she could protest, I reached for my waistband and freed myself.
SMACK.
My cock slapped against her reddened ass cheek, leaving a trail of thick, tar-like pre-cum across her skin, which made her freeze.
"Wait, no, you can't—!" She began to protest—
But her words cut off with a sharp, startled gasp as I thrust into her.
SCHLORP.
My cock filled her completely. Stretched her. Invaded her. Took her.
She was so hot. So wet. So tight. Her pussy clenched around me like a vice, her inner walls gripping every inch, every vein, every throbbing pulse. I buried myself to the hilt—felt my balls press against her thighs—then began to move.
Slow. Deep. Strokes that made her shudder and moan.
"Oh, fuck," she groaned, her body quivering.
I tugged the leash—sharp—pulling her back onto me as she began riding reverse cowgirl, her hips grinding against mine. Her powerful thighs flexed with every motion, her ass bouncing against my lap, the clap of flesh against flesh echoing off the alley walls.
"Yes, yes," she gasped, voice hoarse. "Oh, fuck, yes. More. Harder. Oh god, yes. Fuck me. Fuck me."
With each thrust, she cried out. Her pleasure built. Her cunt clenched. Her body writhed.
I yanked the leash—forcing her back into a deeper arch. A strangled gasp. Her eyes rolled back. Her body wracked with spasms.
Her orgasm ripped through her.
Her pussy clenched—pulsed—flooded. The wet heat of her juices flowed over my cock, soaking my balls, dripping onto the pavement. Her inner walls milked me, squeezing, demanding.
Too much. The sensation was too much.
With a snarl, I let go of the leash, grabbed her hips, held her firmly in place—and plunged.
Deeper. Faster. Harder.
The alley filled with the sounds of sex: the wet slap of bodies colliding as we fucked like animals, the guttural groans of pleasure and ecstasy, the gasps and whimpers and curses and prayers as we rode each other, our bodies entwined, our lust consuming us.
My hands lock onto her hips—slick with sweat, trembling beneath my grip—and I flip her over without a second thought. No gentleness. No pause. Just raw momentum that shoves her face-first into the dirty concrete. Now on all fours, her phat ass is high in the air, and her cunt is dripping with anticipation.
It's time to finish this.
.
----------->
.
My cock slides between her wet folds, teasing her. She whimpers, pushing her hips back, trying to impale herself on me as every thrust sends shockwaves through her ass, as her phat cheeks are slapped with my hips. Her cries are muffled, her face pressed into the filthy ground, her body jolting forward.
"Come on—who is your master?!"
My voice is angry. Demanding. My hands dig into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. My nuts swing forward with every stroke SMACKING against her clit, adding to the overload.
"YOU ARE!" she screams immediately. "You are my master!"
Drool escapes the corner of her mouth as her tongue lolls out, her eyes rolling back. I reward her devotion with a sharp SMACK against one massive cheek. Watch it ripple like a tsunami of blubbery fuckmeat. Drive deeper—grind that fat bulbous head against the back wall of her womb—feel her cervix desperately trying to clamp down.
Final brutal thrust. I unleash.
BLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
.
---------------->
.
Her scream breaks apart. Wave after wave of boiling, thick, cement-like jizz floods into her womb, her cervix desperately trying and failing to clamp down and stem the flow. But it's too much, and it overflows, spilling out around my cock and oozing down her thighs, forming a puddle of cum beneath her.
Her body convulses violently, her pussy clenching around me as her orgasm consumes her, her mind shattering, her eyes rolling back. The pleasure is too much, and her arms give out, leaving her ass high in the air as her face smashes into the pavement.
"Hmmmmmmmm." I slow my thrusts, savouring the last spurts. "I love seeing a brat like you looking like this. Not so tough now, are you?"
The only response is a soft, incoherent whimper. I pull out with a wet POP as her cunt gapes. Immediately, thick ropes of cum start oozing out, spilling down her legs as she shudders and whimpers.
-x-X-x-
But I'm not done. Not even close.
I haul her up by the arm, ignoring her weak, protesting moan. Her body is limp, boneless, but I drag her across the filthy ground and slam her onto her back. The concrete scrapes her skin. She doesn't care. Her eyes are glazed, her chest heaving, her swollen cunt leaking my seed onto the pavement.
.
--------------->
.
I position myself between her spread legs, my cock, slick with our combined mess, slaps against her stomach. I don't give her time to recover. I grab her legs, hooking my arms under her knees and pushing them back towards her head. The mating press. She's folded in half, her body a willing vessel, her gaping cunt presented to me like an offering.
"No more games," I growl, my voice a low rumble. I don't slide in this time. I drive. One brutal, punishing thrust that buries me to the hilt, my balls slapping against her soaked ass. The air is driven from her lungs in a sharp, choked gasp. Her eyes, which had been rolling back, snapped wide open, pure shock and overwhelming sensation flooding back into her system.
"YESSSSS!" she screams, her voice raw, her hands flying up to claw at my shoulders, my chest, anything. "FUCK, YES! MASTER!"
I don't answer with words. I answer with my body. I pull back until just the tip is inside, the head catching on her rim, and then I slam home again. And again. Each thrust is a declaration, a claim. The wet, meaty sound of our bodies colliding fills the alley, punctuated by her desperate, guttural cries.
I lean down, my chest crushing her tits, my face inches from hers. I can feel her hot, ragged breath on my skin. I want to be deeper. I shift my angle, aiming not just for her womb, but through it. I want to paint her insides, to leave a piece of myself so far within her that she can still feel me days from now.
My next thrust is a guided missile. My fat, bulbous head butts against her cervix, that tight, resistant ring of muscle. She whimpers, a flicker of pain in her ecstasy. I don't relent. I push. Her eyes lock with mine, a silent question, a pleading surrender.
I answer by shoving forward.
Her cervix gives way with a sensation that's pure, primal conquest. It's not just sex anymore; it's claiming territory. Her scream is silent, her mouth open in a perfect 'O' as I bury myself impossibly deep, my cock seated fully inside her, her body wrapped around me, invaded and owned.
"Holy... fuck..." she gasps, the words barely a whisper. "So deep... you're so fucking deep..."
I hold there for a moment, letting her feel the sheer, overwhelming fullness, the invasion. Then I start to move again. Short, deep, punishing strokes that grind my cockhead against the deepest parts of her. Her whole body is a live wire, spasming with every minuscule movement.
"Tell me," I demand, my voice strained with the effort of control. "Tell me whose name you'll feel when you sit down tomorrow. Tell me whose cum will be leaking out of you for the next two days. Tell me who you belong to."
"YOU!" she screams, tears of pure, overwhelming pleasure spilling from the corners of her eyes. "I'm yours! ONLY YOURS! Oh god, oh fuck, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."
"Then fucking do it," I snarl, and I pull back and drive home one final, brutal time.
Her orgasm doesn't just rip through her; it annihilates her. Her entire body seizes, a rigid bow of pure sensation. Her cunt clamps down on my cock with a force that's almost painful, a vice-like grip that tries to milk me dry. Her scream is a wordless, primal shriek that echoes off the buildings.
.
----------------->
.
It's enough to trigger my own release. I roar, a guttural, animal sound, as I empty myself into her. It's not just an orgasm; it's an exorcism. I unload everything I have, spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum, directly into the deepest, most secret part of her. I feel my seed painting her womb, flooding it, claiming it.
I stay buried deep, my body shuddering with the aftershocks, pinning her to the cold, hard ground. I finally pull out, a gush of our combined release following instantly, pooling beneath her. She's a wreck. Utterly, completely, beautifully wrecked.
But the claiming isn't over. I need a brand. A reminder.
I lean down, my breath hot on the sweat-slicked skin of her neck. I don't kiss her. I bite. Hard. Sinking my teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, marking the tender flesh. She cries out, a sharp mix of pain and pleasure, her body jerking beneath me. I hold the bite, grinding my teeth into her skin, until I taste the faint metallic tang of blood. When I finally release her, I look at the deep, red imprint of my teeth, already starting to bruise.
"That," I pant, tracing the fresh mark with my thumb. "That is my signature. Every time you look in the mirror, you'll see it. Every time someone asks, you'll know who put it there."
She can't even speak. Her only response is a shuddering, defeated whimper and a fresh trickle of cum escaping her ravaged cunt. She is marked. She is claimed. And she is mine.
Grunting with satisfaction, I hauled her limp, fuck-drunken body up and dragged her over to the nearest streetlamp, where I tied her there, posed obscenely, her massive tits pressed against the cold metal, her world-class dump truck stuck out for any passerby to see, marked with my handprints and dripping with my seed.
Before leaving, I leaned in close, my breath hot against her ear. "Be a good girl, and you'll get a chance to have some more fun. Next time, though, maybe think twice about who you're messing with."
Then I gave her one last, hard spank on her reddened cheeks, taking joy in seeing those phat ass cheeks dance before giving her a wink.
"Until next time."
Once out of the alley and headed home, my transformation dropped the second I was sure I was alone. I crashed onto the couch, spent and exhausted, every muscle aching in the best possible way. Plagg flopped next to me on the cushion as he ate a chunk of camembert.
"You look exhausted," he chuckled, a smug grin on his face. "Guess all that training paid off."
"Don't remind me," I groaned, closing my eyes and sinking into the couch. The cool air felt good on my sweat-slicked skin, and the silence was a welcome relief from the pounding rush of adrenaline and blood in my ears. I honestly felt like I could have fallen asleep right there and then had it not been for Nathalie walking in, a tablet clutched to her chest and her lips set in a thin line.
Plagg hid behind the cushions, not wanting to get caught by her as she approached me.
"Adrien," she began, her voice clipped and professional. "You were late coming home."
"Sorry," I apologised. "I lost track of time. It won't happen again."
"I hope not," she replied, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You have a photoshoot tomorrow morning, so I suggest you get some rest."
"I will," I promised. "Thank you, Nathalie."
But as she was about to turn and walk away, her eyes fell on my crotch, where my erection was straining against the fabric of my pants, and her eyebrow shot up in surprise.
"Adrien," she said, her voice stern and disapproving. "Why are you having an erection?"
"I... uh..." I stammered, my cheeks flushing as I tried to come up with an excuse. "I'm just excited about the photoshoot tomorrow, that's all."
"Is that so?" She asked, her tone suggesting she didn't believe a word of it.
"Yes, absolutely,"
For a second, she didn't say anything, and the silence was almost deafening as I tried not to squirm under her gaze. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke again.
"Well, we can't have you getting distracted by something like this, can we?" She mused, a small smirk playing on her lips. "I'll take care of it for you: Please tell me what you...wish I could do for you so I may..releve the tension."
I swallowed, a million possibilities flashing through my mind.
"I…" I started, my voice a bit rough. I cleared my throat. "I'd like you to use some oil. And just… rub against me. In the bathroom. With your whole body." The blush on my face deepened, but it was too late to back out now as the words tumbled out.
She paused for a moment, as aflicker of something—surprise, maybe, or even amusement—crossed her face. Then, in a business-like tone, she replied, "I'll prepare a bottle and a towel."
"T-thank you," I managed, watching her leave. As soon as she was gone, I let out a deep sigh, running a hand through my hair. I couldn't believe what had just happened, but there was no turning back now as I followed her like a man in a dream.
The bathroom was warm and steamy, the mirrors fogged up from the heat as she gestured for me to sit on the wide, padded bench against the wall.
"Take off your clothes and get comfortable," she instructed. Doing as I was told, I stripped down and sat on the bench, feeling the cool tile against my bare skin as I watched Nathalie produce a bottle of what looked like massage oil from a cabinet and set it on the counter. And then, with a composure that was somehow even more fucking arousing than any striptease, she began to undress.
Her blouse came first. Each button was undone with deliberate, clinical precision, the fabric parted to reveal the severe black of her bra, stretched drum-tight over a pair of tits that defied her usual ice-queen image. They were massive. Full, round, and heavy, they strained against the thin material, the deep valley of her cleavage a dark, sweaty invitation. The blouse was hung neatly on a hook. Then her skirt. A flick of her wrist, a whisper of fabric sliding down those incredible hips, and it pooled at her feet. She stepped out of her heels and then, with a grace that made my cock throb painfully against my thigh, she peeled her stockings down her legs. Slowly. One at a time. Revealing the creamy, flawless skin of her calves, her knees, and her thighs.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My eyes, wide and starving, devoured her. The soft, generous curves of her hips. The impossibly narrow pinch of her waist. The way her belly, toned and smooth, led the eye down to the scrap of fabric that was her panties, already visibly damp, already clinging to the outline of her pussy. And her tits—fuck, her tits—swayed gently with every movement, two enormous, perfect handfuls of mature, demanding flesh, barely contained by that black bra.
This was Nathalie. The woman who was like an aunt to me. The woman who had helped raise me, who scheduled my life with ruthless efficiency, who was now she was standing in front of me in nothing but her soaked underwear, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips before her fingers finding the clasp of her bra.
Click.
The bra fell away. H
er tits swung free, heavy and full, the nipples—thick, dark, and already peaked—jutting out like they were searching for a mouth. She reached for the oil, her movements unhurried, deliberate, giving me all the time in the world to drink in the sight of her naked back, the gentle, hypnotic sway of her ass as she leaned forward.
Nathalie was everything I could ever want. And her beautiful body, with her perky, round, and absolutely massive tits, her long, toned legs that went on for miles and two massive globes of wobbling, clapping, sinful perfection. She was an older woman, but that didn't matter, as she was in the most incredible shape, with smooth, unblemished skin and toned, firm muscles that rippled with every breath.
She reached for the bottle of oil, pouring some into her hands before setting it down and turning to face me, a slight flush to her cheeks. "You ready?" She asked, her voice soft.
"Yes," I breathed, my eyes glued to her body as she approached.
"Good. Now lie back," she instructed. "And enjoy."
I did as I was told, lying back against the cool tile, and watching with anticipation as she hopped onto my lap, straddling me, her ass pressing against my throbbing cock. She started slowly, rubbing the oil into my skin, her fingers working their magic as they dug into my shoulders and massaged away the tension and knots. I couldn't help but moan, enjoying the sensation as her hands roamed all over me, exploring and kneading every inch of my body, her fingers lingering on my sensitive spots, sending tingles of pleasure throughout me.
Then, Nathalie shifted. The movement made her ass grind against my trapped cock, and I saw stars. She poured more oil—a lot more—directly onto her own chest. She slicked it over her breasts, her stomach, her hands sliding and caressing her own curves in a display of autoeroticism that was somehow even hotter than anything she could have done to me. Her nipples, already hard, became stiff, glistening peaks, begging for attention. The sight of her hands, those capable, professional hands, gliding over her own slick, oiled skin was the most erotic thing I had ever witnessed. My cock, pinned beneath her, twitched violently, a fat pearl of pre-cum beading at my tip.
"Now," she murmured, her voice that same low, intimate whisper. "Stay still."
With that, she leaned forward, pressing her slick, oiled body against mine, her nipples rubbing against my chest, her thigh pressing against the base of my shaft. I moaned, arching into her, unable to stop myself from thrusting against her.
.
--------------->
.
She tsked softly, pressing her body harder against mine, her thicc thigh rubbing against my cock, sending a shock of mind-numbing pleasure through me. She began to move. It was a slow, undulating rhythm, her entire oiled body sliding against mine. Her taut, toned stomach glided over my abs, her massive breasts pressing and sliding against my chest as her thighs rubbed against my throbbing monstrosity, sending waves of white-hot ecstasy through me.
A low groan escaped my lips. My hands instinctively went to her hips- her phat, round, bubbly ass, as I felt her slide up and down. My fingers were digging into the slick skin as I felt her grind her ass against my cock, and soon I began matching her rhythm. I couldn't hold back anymore, the pleasure too intense as I began to buck and grind, rutting against her, desperate for more. She didn't stop me. She just continued her slow, sensual dance as we moved together, our bodies pressed together, slick with oil and sweat, grinding and rutting.
"Ahhhh... fuck, that feels so good," I breathed, my fingers moving on their own, sinking deep into the plush, oiled give of her ass cheeks. The sensation of her perfect flesh yielding under my fingertips was almost enough to make me cum right there. Every muscle screamed to thrust, to pound, to breed, but I held back, savouring the moment, the way her body surrendered against mine.
I can only guess what was going through her head. Was she feeling the same thing I was? Was she enjoying this as much as I was? Or was she just doing this because she thought it was her job, her duty?
The look in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks, the way she bit her lip, told me that it was something else entirely. This was more than a business transaction; this was two people sharing a moment of intimacy, a connection that went beyond anything we'd shared before.
There was almost something permanent in the air, like something building and waiting, a promise of something bigger, something more, but also a sense of intimacy, a closeness between us, as if we were connecting on a deeper level. The pleasure built between us, slow and inevitable, like the tide coming in. Our bodies moved together, grinding, pressing, seeking the ultimate connection.
.
------------------->
.
And then—
SCHLORP.
It was an accident. A shift in angle, a moment of lost coordination in the slick heat. And suddenly, impossibly, I was inside her.
"Hnng…!"
"F-fuck…!"
We both froze. Eyes wide. Breath caught. The world stopped.
For one heartbeat, there was nothing but the shock of it, the impossible reality of what had just happened.
And then—
Pleasure. Overwhelming, obliterating, mind-shattering pleasure.
.
+--------------->
.
My cock sank deeper into her. And deeper still. Her body, impossibly, opened to accept me, to welcome me, her slick, tight, burning heat gripping me like a velvet fist. The realisation of what we'd done hit us both at the same instant, but instead of pulling away, we pulled closer.
We were fucking.
And it felt like coming home.
She was so hot. So wet. So impossibly tight. Every inch of her gripped me, massaged me, worshipped me like she'd been made for this—for me. Her body moved with mine in perfect, unthinking synchrony. Hips rocking. Bodies sliding. The world outside that steamy room ceased to exist.
There were no words. We didn't need them. We communicated in breathless gasps and animalistic moans, in the desperate, clawing clutch of fingers on slick skin, in the wet, rhythmic, obscene squelch of our bodies coming together again and again.
SQUELCH. PLAP. SQUELCH. PLAP.
Time dissolved. There was only the pleasure, coiling tighter and tighter in my gut, in hers. Her pussy clenched around me, a rhythmic, pulsing vice that was driving me insane. My balls, my massive, churning, overfull cum-nukes, slapped against her soaked ass with every thrust, the sound a wet, meaty WHAP that echoed off the tiles.
"Ahh... I'm gonna cum!"
Her cry tore through the air, raw and desperate. Her body shuddered, convulsed, and clamped down on my cock with a force that would have broken a normal man. I felt her release—a hot, flooding deluge of her own pleasure—and it triggered my own.
I came inside her.
.
----------------->
.
My balls pulled up tight, and with a guttural roar, I unleashed. Wave after wave of thick, hot, hyper-virile seed pumped into her waiting womb, filling her, claiming her. It wasn't just cum; it was a flood, a deluge, a declaration of ownership painted on her very insides. We clung to each other, our bodies trembling with the intensity of our orgasms, our hearts racing, and then, slowly, the pleasure subsided, and we were left there, spent and satisfied.
But as the moment passed, the reality of what had just happened seemed to dawn on Nathalie, and she was quick to "unplug" herself from my lap and clean the mess we'd made on the floor, with a look that ranged from guilt to satisfaction to embarrassment. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence between us.
"Adrien- I...what we did- it was- I shouldn't have-It was meanly a heat of the moment kind of thing. Do not tell anyone about what just happened." For the first time since I've known her, I saw Nathalie's face flush with embarrassment. She was usually so cool and collected, and yet here she was, flustered and nervous, her words tripping over themselves. "If your mother found out- We shouldn't do this- not again."
-x-X-x-
After that, Nathalie was quick to "unplug" herself from my lap and clean the mess we'd made on the floor, with a look that ranged from guilt to satisfaction to embarrassment. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence between us.
"Adrien- I...what we did- it was- I shouldn't have-It was meanly a heat of the moment kind of thing. Do not tell anyone about what just happened." For the first time since I've known her, I saw Nathalie's face flush with embarrassment. She was usually so cool and collected, and yet here she was, flustered and nervous, her words tripping over themselves. "If your mother found out- We shouldn't do this- not again."
I nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation and the potential consequences if my mom found out. But I honestly couldn't care less about that right now. All I could think about was how amazing it had felt to be inside her, to feel her body surrendering to mine.
"It's ok, Nathalie," I assured her, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. "I won't tell anyone. In fact, let's keep this a secret. If you're worried about getting caught, we can do this more often, just the two of us. No one needs to know."
Nathalie paused for a moment, considering my words as she looked at me with uncertainty. I could see the war raging behind those beautiful eyes—the logical, professional part of her screaming to shut this down, while something darker, something she'd probably never acknowledged until now, whispered for more. The idea of doing something so wrong, so forbidden, was intoxicating, and I could see the exact moment that darker part won. Her pupils dilated slightly, and she shifted her weight, pressing her thick thighs together almost imperceptibly.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded, a small, tentative gesture. "Ok. We'll keep it a secret. Just between the two of us."
"Yes," I breathed, relief and anticipation washing over me as I let my most charming smile, the one I usually reserved for the paparazzi or my fans, play on my lips. "And for the record? That was the best "massage" I've ever had."
"Yes..well," Nathalie said, clearing her throat and straightening her posture. "I aim to please." Before letting out a sigh, she ran her hand through her hair, the usual mask of professionalism slipping back into place. "Anyway,we should get washed and get dressed. You have a very busy day tomorrow, so you should get some rest."
"Yeah, alright," I sighed, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice as I followed her lead, getting out of the bath and drying myself off. "But would you mind if we slept together tonight?"
"Adrien-" Nathalie protested, shooting me a stern look.
"Like when I was a kid," I explained, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "You used to let me sleep with you when I was scared or had nightmares."
Nathalie didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked at me, her expression inscrutable, and then sighed, running a hand through her hair once more.
"Alright," she agreed, her tone resigned. "But just tonight. And don't make a habit out of it."
"Of course not," I grinned, trying not to sound too excited. "Thank you, Nathalie."
With that settled, we finished getting dressed, and I followed her into the bedroom, my mind racing with possibilities. The night was still young, and who knew where it could lead. In the end, I ended up with her, lying beside me, her massive, perky tits acting as pillows for my head as I fell asleep to the gentle sound of her breathing. Her arm wrapped around me instinctively, the way it had when I was small enough to fit entirely in her lap, and I pressed back against the generous curve of her body, feeling safer—and more aroused—than I had any right to.
We were both unaware of the little, black cat Kwami, who had witnessed everything from a safe distance and had a mischievous grin on his face.
"Humans are so interesting!" Plagg whispered to himself, already cataloguing every detail to share with Tikki later. "And Adrien? Damn, boy's got game."