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In retrospect, Marinette figured it must have been sheer dumb luck that their appointments coincided on the same day. She and Adrien certainly seemed to have it in spades.
As it turned out, that particular afternoon had been the only free space in each of their schedules for the next two weeks, and any hopes of a day spent together had been dashed with red and black sharpie on their shared calendar.
Amid hectic preparations for the debut her upcoming line, Adrien’s shift to full-time at the primary school, having their home loan approved, moving from their tiny post-University flat to their new apartment, and the various redecoration attempts therein, she’d barely seen her husband. Their last date night had amounted to a mad race to get groceries before the shop closed, having realized that their beautiful new refrigerator had absolutely nothing in it.
Marinette’s stomach grumbled at the thought. She quickened her pace up the Metro steps and out into the cool evening air. A glance at her wristwatch told her that Adrien ought to be home from the optometrist by now, already preparing dinner. Barring the occasional rushed morning omelette this would be their first hot meal together in the new place.
“I want to finally break in this kitchen!” He’d laughed, stretching his arms out to encompass most of the space over the stove. She’d tried not to giggle when he followed this up with a squint, “Especially once I can actually see what I’m doing.”
Marinette had teased him mercilessly about needing glasses, smirking her way through his increasingly failed attempts to read text that wasn’t flush up against his nose. Adrien had been at a complete loss, baffled in the growing absence of his once perfect vision.
Still, laser surgery had seemed extreme and he’d blanched at the thought of having to actually place a contact lens on his eyeball, so glasses it would have to be.
As if on cue, her phone began to chime in her purse, Adrien’s name emblazoned on the cover screen.
“Salut!”
Hey Buginette, on your way home?
“Mm-hmm, I’m about five minutes away,” she said as she rounded a corner, biting back a giddy smile at his enduring pet name for her.
Take your time, this bourguignon needs to simmer for an hour .
“Aw Chaton,” she giggled into the receiver, “I’m hungry nooow!”
Ha! You sound like Plagg.
I heard that! Are you talking about me?
Plagg’s telltale whine made its way to Marinette’s ear. She could imagine him languidly wending his way around Adrien’s head as he cooked, complaining about the lack of cheese in beef bourguignon all the while. She could also imagine the way the little devil was certainly smooshing himself up against Adrien’s cheek to better impede their call.
Augh Plagg quit it!
Marinette, it’s terrible, they’ve turned him into a nerd!
“But he’s already a nerd!” She trilled, laughing into the open air as she waited at the crosswalk of their street.
I don’t deserve this abuse, she heard Adrien mutter, and how do you know what a nerd is anyway?
I don’t have to tell you EVERYTHING!
Some hushed shooing noises followed, accompanied by a drawled goodbye from Plagg.
So, how’s the new haircut?
She glanced at her reflection in a window. The glow of the setting sun illuminated Marinette’s face, her eyes, and the distinct absence of two year’s worth of hair that she’d just lopped off.
“You’re going to see it in about a minute,” she bit her lip, pulling her keys out of her bag.
Yeah, but who cares what I think? Do YOU like it?
She paused. It was the shortest she’d ever worn it, cropped tight in the back with her bangs still long enough to sweep over her forehead. She hadn’t expected her head to feel so light, still anticipating the weighted sweep across her shoulders like a phantom limb. Goosebumps prickled along her nape, bared to the evening breeze. She ran her hand along her neck, marvelling at how different a simple pixie cut could make her look.
She felt a little more polished, more mature. After all, she had gotten it done in preparation for presenting her new line. She was twenty-six now, no longer the Paris fashion scene’s darling little protegee. She was ready to look like a grown up.
“Yeah,” she smiled at the reflection before fitting her key into the lock of their building’s front door, “Yeah I really do.”
Marinette took the stairs up to their floor two at a time, eager to finally spend an evening in her big beautiful apartment, with her big beautiful husband. She paused at the door, steeling herself.
Surely the glasses couldn’t be that bad, could they?
She resolved to not tease him about it, and if they were truly atrocious, she’d take it upon herself to purchase a better pair. It was the least she could do.
“I’m home!” She called out, hanging her jacket next to Adrien’s in their entryway.
“Hey!” Adrien’s voiced sounded from the kitchen, followed by a high-pitched POP , “You’re just in time, I’ve opened the wine.”
“You’re a bespectacled angel,” she sighed, kicking off her shoes, “Pour me a glass?”
“Well, if my lady insists,” he chuckled as she rounded the corner to greet him. He stood at the counter with his back to her, watching the wine fill up her glass, before turning to offer it to her.
And perhaps on any other night Marinette would have entered her kitchen, pecked Adrien on the cheek, and helped him set the table. On any other night they’d have sat down to dinner and talked about their upcoming week like they always did. They’d have watched television until a respectable hour, curled up on the sofa with Tikki and Plagg, and then they’d have gone to bed with a kiss and a “see you in the morning”.
But tonight Marinette and Adrien had barely seen each other for over a week. Tonight they were in a kitchen that, for the first time in a month, was blessedly clear of cardboard boxes and flush with the scents of simmering stew and red wine. Tonight their kwamis had vacated to the guest bedroom, winking knowingly all the while, and for good reason.
Because when Adrien turned around it was a miracle that Marinette didn’t spontaneously combust.
If Adrien Agreste had been cute in college , handsome in lycee , and drop-dead gorgeous in university, Marinette wasn’t sure there was a word invented for this new, evolved form that was standing in front of her.
In glasses .
Plagg had been right in a way, they were a bit nerdy. The black frames were thick and squarish, tapering thinner at the bottoms. But they were stylish, and they framed Adrien’s face in a way that accentuated his high cheekbones, his strong jaw, his bright eyes. His collared shirt lay open, revealing the black t-shirt he wore underneath, and the sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows to show off the toned stretch of his forearms.
If this is what nerdy Adrien looks like , Marinette suddenly thought, a flush creeping up her newly exposed neck, then sign me up for the next science fair.
And it was around this time, her eyes darting from his face to outstretched arm to chest and back up to those glasses balanced perfectly on the bridge of his nose, that Marinette realized that Adrien wasn’t saying anything.
Because he was staring at her. And blushing.
Oh.
Adrien swallowed, the sound painfully loud in the silence that had befallen their kitchen. Very carefully, he set the wine glass back down, eyes never once leaving Marinette’s face.
No, not her face. Her head.
“W-wow!” he finally stammered out, breath shooting out of him like he’d been punched, “Marinette y-you look really...uh...wow you...and the…” He gestured wildly with his hands around his own head, smile widening and face getting redder with each passing second.
“Oh i-it’s uh…” Marinette started, trying to ignore the hot tingles shooting up and down her legs, “You don’t think it’s too-”
“NO!” despite what might have been the world’s dopiest grin, Adrien looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin, “It’s perfect it’s...it’s uh...you’re...really...wow!”
“Y-you too,” she murmured, pointing feebly up at him, “They look...I mean you always look but they’re...I really like them.”
“Yeah?” It was impossible to miss his sigh of relief. The way his face softened, tension visibly eking away as he reached up to adjust the glasses, kicked Marinette’s heart into syncopated flutters. She stood up a little straighter when he looked back at her bashfully, before asking, “They look alright?”
“Yep!” she squeaked, hands slapping at the sides of her thighs awkwardly as she bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet, “Yep yep yessiree! ”
“G-good!” he managed to get out, nodding in time with her bouncing, “Good good good.”
They stood for a moment like that, eyes flitting up and down each other, mouths pinched tight as both tried to think of something to break the inescapable quiet, to loosen the creaking bowstring of tension that seemed to be pulled ever more taut by their hushed breathing and unbroken stares.
“I…” Adrien started, his voice now inexplicably hoarse. His hands came up again, grasping at nothing, before settling to the back of his neck. His throat worked in a way that made Marinette’s toes curl against the hardwood floor.
Finally he bit the side of his lip, a shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and said, “I’ve really missed you.”
Marinette launched herself at him.
Years of costumed acrobatics and tandem combat had primed them for moments like this. Without hesitation Adrien’s hands flew out to catch her at the waist, pulling her up against him while she twined her arms around his neck. He even managed to avoid knocking over the wine when the force of her kiss pushed him back against the counter. Marinette hardly took notice, every higher brain function blissfully preoccupied with trying to crush herself as close to Adrien’s mouth as physically possible.
“Missed you too,” she half-hummed against his jaw when he broke for air. He blinked a couple times, focus split between Marinette’s hands raking through his hair and the way the rest of her seemed intent on climbing him.
“R-really?” any attempt at composure was lost as he trailed his shaking hands down her sides to grip the backs of her thighs. With a grunt he hauled her up from her tiptoes, her legs wrapping securely around his waist, while he huffed out a barely voiced, “I’d never have guessed.”
“How’s about I convince you, then?” she gave him a cheeky grin before diving in to slide her tongue past his lips. For all her posturing, the strangled groan he made went straight to Marinette’s gut, and she squeezed her legs tighter around him at the sound.
Hands still rooting her firmly against him, Adrien staggered forward, stopping only when they bumped up against the sturdy wood of their dining table. When he set Marinette down she leaned away from him, giggling and trailing her hands down the front of his shirt. He smiled and chased after her, intent on catching her lips, her teeth, her tongue.
Marinette gasped as his hips surged forward and ground against her own, pressing her into the tabletop. The loose skirt of her dress rucked up while his hands dragged against the thin fabric of her leggings, his grip a hot burning thing.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing this, the needy intimacy that had been shelved in the last few weeks to make room for all the changes in their lives. They’d fallen into the comfortable routine of living together, had been doing so for years now, and perhaps in their rush to fill out the role of “serious adults”, they’d neglected the stammering, frantic, desperately enamored kids that they’d always been.
Adrien’s tongue darted into her mouth and she sucked it between her teeth, drawing a moan from him. In this moment, with the insistent press of his fingers at the small of her back and his body flush up against hers, Marinette decided she’d rather be that kid than a serious adult any day.
Adrien pulled away suddenly, laying a soft peck on her lips. He leaned back to admire the flush of her cheeks, extending all the way to the tips of her ears, before reaching up to remove his glasses.
“NO!” she said, much louder than she’d intended, hands flying up to stop him. Adrien’s eyebrows shot up, mouth falling slightly agape. Marinette winced.
“Um…you...you want me to leave them on?” he asked shyly.
“I...uh...well I mean it’s…” she fidgeted under his gaze, fingers still dancing lightly along the arms of his glasses, holding them in place. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, and every time she got close her blush seemed to deepen.
Realization dawned on him like an insufferable sunrise.
Carefully placing her arms back down around his shoulders, Adrien allowed a large, leisurely smirk to spread across his features, quirking an eyebrow and tilting his head just so.
“I take it you really like the glasses then,” he rumbled low in his chest. Marinette fought the urge to swallow, her throat tight. She bit her lip petulantly, refusing to give in to his teasing.
“They’re alright, I guess.” she said, not nearly as flippantly as she’d have liked.
“Oh no, Buginette do tell,” his grin only got wider and more smug, eyes crinkling in delight behind the frames, “Is this new ? Or have you always wanted my eyesight to go bad?”
“Now you’re just making fun of me,” she pouted.
“Maybe you have a fetish!” he crowed, reaching up before she could protest and whipping the frames off his face dramatically. Then he caught her gaze, eyes sparkling, as he stuck one of the arms in his mouth and bit down on it suggestively, “Do they make me look like a sexy professor?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Adrien-” she murmured, voice trembling a little.
“Should I invest in a pipe and-” he began, but stopped short when she gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in close enough that their noses brushed against each other. Marinette’s eyes, sharp and calculating, drifted down to the glasses still dangling from his lips.
“Adrien,” she said again, voice hushed and dangerously low, “you’re going to put these back on.” With deft fingers she removed the glasses from between his teeth, setting them back onto his nose carefully.
“Uh-huh,” he managed, taking note of the way she continued to blush even as her fingers slid down the sides of his face, down the hot stretch of his neck, before pushing his collared shirt back across his shoulders.
“Then you’re going to take off these clothes.”
“Uh-huh?” he practically squeaked.
“And then you’re going to fuck me on top of this table.”
Marinette’s tone, imperious and needy and utterly ruined , brooked no argument.
“W-wow,” Adrien said, barely tamping down the giddiness in his voice, “I should’ve gotten glasses sooner.”
“Less talking, more stripping, Kitty,” she bit her tongue at him while he shrugged off his overshirt before pulling his t-shirt out from the waistband of his pants. Marinette didn’t bother waiting for his head to clear the crew neck, hands going straight for his belt with increased fervor.
Adrien, to his credit, didn’t complain at being forcibly undressed, but he’d be damned if he let his wife get the upper hand. While Marinette fumbled with his pants he took a moment to unzip the back of her dress, enjoying the way her fingers fumbled when he buried his face into her newly cropped hair and inhaled.
It was shiny and smelled of shampoo. He liked the way it tickled. The way that, when she pressed her head up against his neck in an attempt to get closer, he could see the clear stretch of skin along her spine from the base of her pixie cut all the way down to the bow of her shoulders.
He brushed his fingers along where the strands were shortest, right at the base of her scalp, before running his hand deeper into her hair to cradle her head. It was also around this time that Marinette, ever the opportunist, reached around, dug her hands underneath the loosened waist of his jeans, and sank her fingernails in the firm flesh of his ass.
Adrien yelped, fingers clenching, and tugged at her hair just enough to force her head back so that their eyes locked.
There was a pause. A terrible wonderful pause in which the apology hanging on Adrien’s lips was prematurely silenced by the hungry way Marinette stared up at him.
“Huh,” she said, though it was really more of a gasp.
“ Well, ” he replied in a strangled voice. Once again Adrien found himself trying very hard not to smile and failing miserably, “I’m finding out all sorts of things tonight.”
“About me?” she asked, biting her lip and letting her hand snake back around to palm the bulge under his boxers.
“Not just you,” he said shakily, leaning his hips forward into her touch, “Definitely not just you.”
She kissed him again, drawing his tongue into her mouth while he leaned her back to lay on the table. One hand continued to work on his erection, gentle strokes and squeezes followed by the hard press of her palm against the head. Adrien hissed at that, eyes squeezing shut as her touch became more aggressive.
Her other hand was helping him tug her leggings down around her ankles before she toed them off completely. Long, firm, and very naked legs wrapped back around him, ankles daintily crossing at his tailbone and reminding him that this little session was most certainly staying right here.
The whole of the kitchen felt stiflingly hot, sweat beading along Adrien’s brow, in the dip of Marinette’s collarbone, across the stretches of skin where her hands seared him.
Still carding fingers through her hair, Adrien let his lips wander away from hers to the space under her jaw, nibbling where the skin was softest and leaving wet kisses in the wake of his teeth.
The hand she’d been keeping firmly on his cock moved to his chest, and he pressed himself into the space between her legs, the air between them replaced with friction. She rolled her hips against his, nails digging into his back while she murmured into his ear yes, just like that .
Adrien breathed heavily on her skin, pushing hard into that unbearable heat between Marinette’s thighs - and paused, suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, worry and anticipation mingling in her voice.
“I uh…” he started, then lifted his head from the damp crux of her neck, “I can’t see anything.”
His glasses had fogged up.
Marinette stared for a good five seconds. Then she smiled, bit at her lip, and finally succumbed to a peal of laughter.
“This definitely ruins the sexy professor aesthetic,” he grumbled, wiping at the lens with his thumb and only managing to smudge it in the process, “Now you know why I wanted to take them off.”
“Haha! O-oh no! You-you’ll never g-get tenure now!” she chortled out, lifting herself up on her elbows and pressing her forehead to his. Despite her giggles and Adrien’s pout, her legs hadn’t loosened from around his waist, nor had he made any move to lift off of her.
“Have I completely killed the mood?” he asked, glancing up from under his frames in a way that was both self-deprecating and terribly charming. A hand ran down her back, taking advantage of her unzipped dress to play at the clasp of her bra.
Marinette smiled slow and warm, ghosting the edge of her nose along his brow and down into a tender kind of eskimo kiss. She pressed her lips chastely, sweetly to his, before rearing back and blowing a hot gust of air into his glasses, fogging them up yet again.
“Augh!”
“I think I can work with this,” she chuckled while he fumbled at his glasses, using the momentary distraction to eagerly pull her dress down and shuck her bra somewhere onto the kitchen floor.
Even with smudged lenses and a case of near-sightedness, Adrien had no trouble appreciating the sight of Marinette, beaming and topless and splayed out on a reclaimed barnwood dining table.
The fact that they’d spent literal months picking out said table wasn’t lost on him. Marinette herself had said she’d wanted something solid and hefty. “You never know what we’ll need to use it for,” she’d said flippantly.
He certainly had an idea.
“So,” he said casually, settling down onto his forearms over her, eyes raking her up and down while she traced circles along his shoulders, “You tease me, undress me, dirty my brand new glasses, and expect me to just fall into your arms?”
“Well I was definitely hoping you’d do more than that,” she smiled slyly, running a knee languorously up his side. He didn’t ignore the way her hips tilted up suggestively, or how her eyes trailed down towards his boxers before darting back up.
“And who says I’ll give you what you want?” he propped a chin up on his hand, mimicking her appreciative gaze.
“Because if you don’t I’ll give you a very bad performance review, Professor ,” she deadpanned, eliciting a throaty laugh from him.
“So you’re the Principal in this situation?”
“You better believe it,” she quirked an eyebrow up at him, daring him to make a move.
“Well I’d hate to disappoint the boss,” he bent down to ghost his mouth over a pert nipple, and smiled at Marinette’s insistent whine, “Even if I am her favorite.”
“You’re enjoying this whole scenario far too much,” she grumbled impatiently while Adrien continued to torture her, hands and lips only ever lightly grazing the sensitive skin of her breasts. By some inborn masochism she fought the urge to arch up off the table, though her fingers did glance along his neck anxiously as if to say yes I will shove you into my boob if you keep this up.
He opened his mouth and exhaled achingly slow, breath rolling hot and wet and dizzying over her skin.
“Revenge ,” he growled and blew a wet raspberry in the middle of her chest.
Marinette shrieked.
“You are DEAD to me,” she scowled, yanking him up to her level where she could better glare at his stupid giggling face. He smiled back at her, infuriating and beautiful and completely unapologetic.
“Now we’re even,” Adrien chuckled before dipping down to kiss away her scowl.
“We are far from even,” she grumbled even though she leaned up into his mouth, “Really I am furious.”
“Enraged, even?” he ran a tongue along her bottom lip.
“Incandescent ,” she hissed as she caught his mouth again and pulled him on top of her, hands tangling in his hair.
Adrien reached down, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his boxers to tug himself free. He fumbled at the edges of her underwear before giving up on ever trying to separate from her long enough to remove it, and instead pushed the damp fabric aside. Marinette gave a trembling sigh when his fingers slid along her slick folds and briefly circled her clit.
“Marinette,” he whispered, voice ragged, “Marinette I want you so much.”
He pressed his cock up against her, gentle strokes that brought the head flush with her clit. Adrien felt her shift underneath him as she brought a heel up to balance on the edge of the table, angling her hips wider, higher for him.
He looked down at her then, swallowing hard when Marinette’s hand travelled from the back of his head down to his groin, running her hand along that slickened length. He groaned, letting her guide the tip of his cock into her, feeling her muscles expand and contract around his girth.
“O-oh...Adriennnn,” she practically cooed, lifting her hips slightly, sinking into his slow thrust. Her breath caught as he filled her completely, grinding against her pelvis as he did so. Her back lifted off the table, she squirmed while he stifled every impulse to jerk his hips back.
Then Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, half-lidded eyes locking with his, and didn’t so much say as whimper, “I want it hard .”
He didn’t need any further instruction.
One of his hands gripped the edge of the table near her head, while one of hers did the same near her thigh. He pulled back and began to set a rhythm, rolling his hips and sinking into her with sharp thrusts that only picked up in speed.
The table rocked under them, shuddering almost in time with Marinette’s breathy moans. Adrien gritted his teeth against the way she clenched around him, they way she twisted every time he pulled out, the way she mewled and bucked when he’d change tempo, trading out several short bursts for a slow drag before renewing his pace.
This wouldn’t do, he realized. There was no way he’d outlast her at this rate, tight heat coiled as it was in his gut. Before he completely realized what he was doing, Adrien stretched himself out over her, barely pulling out of her now, and leveraged his face down to her ear.
Her eyes followed him, but she didn’t turn her head. He cupped her cheek with his hand, rubbing at the other with his own like a needy cat.
“Marinette,” he groaned, “You h-have no idea how sexy you are.” He smiled at her gasp, the familiar clutch of her fingers at his back. “You have no - ah! N-no idea what that haircut’s doing to me.”
“I think I have an idea,” she bit her lip.
“You know what I love about your hair being this short?” he leaned in a fraction closer, nose nudging at the edge of her hairline.
“T-tell me,” Marinette keened softly, thighs squeezing him tighter.
“It makes it so easy to do this ,” he murmured, before opening his mouth and clamping his teeth down around her earlobe.
The reaction was one of his favorites, instantaneous and bordering on violent. Marinette swore a blue streak, hips stuttering while he continued to nip and suckle at her ear. For a girl with a set of magic earrings, it seemed delicious irony that she’d have this big of an ear kink.
“Ah! Oh G-god, Adrien!” she cried as he wound his fingers into her hair and tugged lightly, tilting her head so he could better lave along the curve of her lobe before pressing the full expanse of his tongue against her ear. The sensation, wet and warm, pliant yet firm, left Marinette sucking in deep lungfuls of air, dragging her nails hard against his skin.
She shoved down onto his length and held him in place, grinding her clit into his hips even as her muscles convulsed around him and down her legs. Her orgasm was almost a quiet thing, her shouts suddenly narrowed down into a steady whine as he murmured heady praise into the ear he’d been biting.
When he pulled away the space where his tongue had been was cold and tingling, and Marinette nearly wailed at the loss of that heat. He looked like he was about to say more, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide, but she didn’t give him the chance.
She fisted her hands in his hair and dragged him down forcing him to meet her. Her teeth raked over his tongue, bites were exchanged, their heads tilted this way and that, each trying to find the best angle with which to command the other’s attention.
Adrien groaned as he came, a small, guttural noise in the back of his throat while the muscles in his legs, his shoulders, his neck, tensed as he pressed as deeply into Marinette’s warmth as he could. He shut his eyes tight as he panted through it.
She cupped his face, thumb running under the glasses and along his cheek, humming at the familiar sensation of him releasing inside her. Exhaustion seemed to settle on them both, and Marinette felt warm and boneless, achingly sensitive and completely safe.
Adrien opened his eyes, taking a minute to focus. Then he smiled down at her, bashfully content.
She carefully reached up, removing his glasses to set aside, and rose up to kiss him soft and slow, fingers trailing at his jaw.
“So…” she said finally, as it seemed Adrien was too busy smelling her hair and running his hands along her back, “I guess we really broke in the kitchen.”
“We’re lucky we didn’t break the table,” he chuckled into her temple.
“No way! This thing’s built to last,” she shoved him lightly, holding him out at arm’s distance.
“Like us, huh?” he cocked his head to the side, lacing his fingers with hers at his shoulder.
She glanced around at the apartment. She took in the simmering stew on the stove behind him, the lights and furniture, the precious few photographs stuck on their fridge with ladybug-shaped magnets.
She took in the way Adrien filled up the space with his calm smile, and left his presence across their home, in her skin.
“Yeah,” she said with a small smile, hand coming up to feel the comforting shortness of her hair before his own covered it and he leaned in close, “Just like us.”