Has no one asked for a story of Hawkmoth and chat noir being a team with ladybug being the villian? It would be pretty amazing to see a father son duo with ladynoir fight scenes. Hawkmoth could send out some assistance for his son.
No, from I knowledge no. And given I like this, here have a oneshot. Also, I’m soooo sorry, this had been in my inbox for over a week, but I was caught with school and had no drive to write anything at all >.> Also I feel like I made Marinette maybe a little to mean in this oops.
Chat didn’t hate Coccinelle. In fact, Chat didn’t hate anybody, not even the ladybug themed thief. But she was annoying him, exasperating him and he certainly had a dislike for his supposed to be partner. Or so he kept telling himself. But more often than not he wondered how would it be if the situation was somehow different. If they were partners like they were meant to be. But whatever alternative universes he might have been thinking off, were kicked out of him. Quite literally. He stumbled back, losing his equilibrium because of her hit. Goddamit, she had good legs.
(In more senses than one, but it wasn’t appropriate for him to think about that.)
The champion of the day appeared in front of Chat guarding him from the next attack. This one wasn’t his father’s best work, but isn’t like people lingered around museums in the dead of the night. The keeper of the museum was the only possible champion around and he wasn’t exactly eager to jump in the fight first thought.
“Oh, I’m not in the mood to deal with you. Can’t you two just chill and let me keep the dress?” she asked, in an almost bored tone, dodging the hits of the akuma easily.
“Why do you want it anyway? Isn’t like you can wear it.” Chat asked finally picking himself off the ground. Seriously now, the dress was a collectible, the first model of the little black dress created by Coco Chanel. That thing was almost 90 years old and extremely fragile. Isn’t like she could wear it at a party.
“Not all dresses are for wearing, you know. A rare piece sometimes just gives you happiness by simply looking at his.” she gave the champion a once over and scrunched up her nose. “Not that I’d expect you to understand.”
The temporary superhero, stopped dead in his tracks and Adrien could have sworn he just heard his father scream in indignation from the other side of Paris. Rolling her eyes, Coccinelle sighed, obviously bored by the entire ordeal.
“Oh, well, it isn’t you I want to play with.” and with that she round kicked the champion, sending him flying down four flight of stairs. Adrien winched. That must have hurt.
Coccinelle turned to him with a smirk, curling her index finger in a come to me motion. “Minou, minou, minou, come here and play with me, pretty kitty.”
Trying to hide his blush (She was beautiful okay? He could stay lost in those blue eyes forever), he attacked. Their fighting had been always more of a dance. Adrien knew enough about the cat and ladybug miraculous to know they were meant to complete each other. And it was quite obvious when they were fighting, Chat being swifter and more defensive while Ladybug was a force to be reckoned with, not pulling any punches. And while they were at it, well, it usually required a big mistake for one of them for the fight to come to an end. And for once, luck was on his side. He managed to catch Coccinelle, sizing her hands behind her back. She looked up at him, obviously surprised, before those really soft looking lips curled in a smug smirk. Adrien blinked in confusion. Why was she smirking? She lost. He got her. He could take her miraculous now.
But before even more question could pass through his brain, she got on her tip toes and captured his lips. Adrien felt his heart jump out of his chest. He closed his eyes, moaning against her mouth. She tasted so sweet, he could feel strawberry and vanilla and honestly, that must be what nirvana tasted like. He let go of her hands, rather pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her waist. She moaned approvingly, then bit on his bottom lip. Adrien opened his mouth, allowing her tongue to sneak past his lips. Honestly, he could stay like this forever. But sooner than he would have liked, she pulled away from him.
“We should do that more often, chaton.” Coccinelle suggested, while extracting herself from his embrace. Adrien could only nod, his face still hot from the blush and his mind still fuzzy from how wonderful that kiss was. “See you later.”
She blew him a kiss, before grabbing the box with the dress and disappearing through a window, not before dodging the useless attacks of the champion. Chat Noir snapped too late from his little brain shortcircuit to realize what he had just done.
Adrien knew when his father called him in his office to speak with him, shit was about to go down. He looked up at his father, who studied him with a thoughtful look before he sighed.
“Well, Adrien, I think it is time for us to have a discussion about the hormonal drive of you, teenagers.”
Adrien blinked surprised, before the sentence was properly processed by his brain. “What?!”
“You know Adrien, the talk, the bees and all that nonsensical excuses parents like to use. Your sex drive had obviously taken a tool on you and it is affecting your performance as a superhero and it should be discussed why villans aren’t the proper people to share your sexual desires with. Look, I even got flyers.” he said shoving a bunch of coloured papers onto his desk.
Adrien was mortified. “FATHER NO!”
“How you teenagers are saying nowadays, father yes!” he adjusted his glasses before opening a flyer. “I’m also considering creating a quality condom line, had you seen the colours they use for these? No son of mine will ever use a neon orange condom, that’s so five seasons ago.”
Guy Fawkes Night/Bonfire Night/Firework Night is a celebration in Britain on the 5th November. It commemorates the failed Gunpowder Plot on the same night in 1605. Guy Fawkes and a group of Catholic extremists planned to blow up Westminster Palace, London, using gunpowder they had been storing and hiding under the palace. This was to try and get James VI of Scotland (I of England) off the throne, and return to a Catholic monarch. Their plan failed when an anonymous letter was sent to the police, and Fawkes was captured before he could complete the plan.
To celebrate the failure of the Gunpowder Plot, people all over the UK light fireworks, sparklers, and bonfires. In some places an effigy of Guy Fawkes is built out of wood, and burned.
Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Natasha x
Bucky, Platonic Tony x reader.
Warnings: ANGST. Pregnancy,
violence, insecurity and self-loathing, Mutant reader (powers similar to Jean
from X-men with a little immortality thrown in) smut. Horrible painful smut.
Translations: I hope this is
accurate. I might be swearing at ya’ll. I hope not
Pridi na moy chlen- come on my cock (Russian)
Da detka, pozhaluysta, userdneye- yes baby please! (Russian)
Teper’. Pridi seychas- Come. Come now (Russian)
te iubesc- i
dont want to give anything away, so if you really wanna know google it.
malen’kaya lisa-Little fox
“(y/n)’ Bucky moans into your neck, fingers tangled in your long (h/c) locks, the slick drag of his cock has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your breath coming out in short harsh pants as he picks up the pace.
“Krasavitsa” he murmurs, his eyes hazy as he looks at your sweat drenched body.
You’re keening and arching into him, grabbing at his ass when a particularly hard thrust meets your special bundle of nerves head on.
“Pridi na moy chlen” he growls at you. “Da detka, pozhaluysta, userdneye” you scream at him, clenching spasmodically around his length, his hips falter at the feeling.
“Teper’. Pridi seychas” and you do, your mouth opens in a silent scream, back bowed unnaturally as your orgasm washes over you.
Your vision goes white as Bucky fucks you through it, his hips stuttering, ass clenching, moaning so beautifully into the crook of your neck. You feel him throb as he empties himself inside you with a loud “Te iubesc” his harsh breathing is the only thing you can hear now.
You’re trying desperatly to catch your breath, a light sheen of sweat covering you, a pleasant ache settling in your muscles. ”What was that last one, Buck?” you ask. He blushes furiously as he replies ”Maybe I’ll tell ya one day kitty”
You couldn’t hide. Nat would drag you kicking and screaming into the land of the living, Steve would stay outside your door until his relentless mothering broke you down, you had to go on like nothing was amiss, you had to pretend, swallow down the pain and nausea.
18 hours you remind yourself, another 18 hours and I can run, I’ll never have to see the pity in his eyes again.
18 hours you repeat it in your head through breakfast, purposefully avoiding Bucky’s red rimmed eyes and Natasha’s concerned stare.
“You doin alright there baby girl?” Sam asks as he watches you mindlessly push your food around your plate. “Yeah Sammy, not feelin so hot, think I might have caught a bug on that last mission” you reassure him, plastering a fake smile on your face. “Sestra” your gaze snaps to Natalia, she’s scanning your face looking for any signs of deception, concern etched on her immaculately made face. “Excuse me” you mutter as you stand, making a break for the common room. Sestra, you think.
16 hours you repeat when Steve asks you to speak to Bucky, concern for his friend radiating off him like cheap cologne. “Please Kitty, I don’t know what’s eating at him, he won’t speak to me!” He’s frantic, fists clenching with every word “I’m sure its nothing Stevie, if he needed to talk to me he would have found me already, why don’t you ask Nat?” I can do this, I can pretend, a little while longer, come ON (y/n) LIE TO HIM. “He mentioned something about not sleeping too well after the last mission, I’ll ask Nat to have a word.” He breathes a sigh of relief “Thanks kitty cat, what would I do without you?” he grins “Crash and burn” you reply.
13 hours you repeat when you walk in on an impassioned Bucky and Nat on the couch, oblivious to the outside world, her body wrapped around him, hands in his hair, soft moans spilling from her lips “malen’kaya lisa” He whispers rolling his hips into hers “I need you” he moans, she kisses a hot path down his neck “Natalia” he warns. Yup. You think, this is what dying feels like.
9 hours you repeat when you’re bent over the toilet bowl heaving out the remnants of dinner. Why the fuck is it called morning sickness when it lasts all day? Brushing the tears from your eyes. I can’t do this alone. Oh God, I can’t do this alone.
3 hours you repeat when you hear Bucky banging on the bedroom door begging you to open up, to let him explain, how nothing he said to you was true. “Please just let me explain! I’m a fuckin idiot (y/n)! I need you! Let me IN!” he’s screaming, rattling the door, “C’mon kitty please” he whispers
2 hours you repeat as you break down on the other side of the door, listening to the broken sobs of the man you love pleading with you to listen, your breathing harsh and labored as you question everything you thought was right.
30 minutes you repeat as you hear Bucky leave, “You’re gonna have ta talk ta me eventually (y/n), ya can’ keep avoiding me for ever, I will make ya listen” he threatens. You clutch your non-existent baby bump, forcing yourself not too feel, burying the emotion so deep down inside that you’re not sure it’s ever going to come back out.
5 minutes you repeat as you fix the mess that is your face and collect your bags, waiting for F.R.I.D.A.Y to give you the all clear.
30 seconds you repeat as you stroll through the darkened compound to the elevator that will take you to a non-descript car at the front of the building
10 seconds you repeat as you watch everything you love disappear in the rear view.
A mistake, Just a mistake.
Tags: Again. SUFFER. also if i missed anyone feel free to yell at me. i deserve it.