Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug or any of the characters. I do not believe homosexuality is sinful or wrong, but in this setting Marinette and most everyone else does.

The candlelight lends a warm hue to the cream-colored sheets. Marinette is already in her nightclothes, nestled in bed pretending to read a book. Don't look, she implores herself, purposely ignoring her roommate whilst she disrobes. Looking makes it worse.

"You've been staring at that same page for a while. Are you well?" Adrienne asks good-naturedly, turning to face her friend while fiddling with the laces on her corset. In public, the blonde is as modest as every proper young lady should be, but here—their shared room is a sanctuary from propriety. The atmosphere is homey. The ease Adrienne displays around Marinette makes the bluenette guiltier. She trusts me, and still I entertain these wicked thoughts. I should banish myself from her—never set eyes on her again. For both our sakes. Yet, in addition to heartache, to shun her without an appropriate reason would draw suspicion. Just as surely as Marinette is drawing suspicion in her silence, she realizes.

"Yes—I am quite alright. Merely lost in thought." She keeps her bluebell eyes fixed on the page, hoping the other girl will be deterred from further conversation by her disengagement.

This only prompts the blonde's concern further. "Truly? The thought must be woe indeed to render you so dreary." Once in her nightgown, she perches on the edge of Marinette's bed. "What ails you?" Leaning forward, one of the billowy sleeves of her chemise slip down her shoulder, revealing her tanned collarbones.

"N-Nothing. I am well."

"Poppycock! You're flushed, and—" Adrienne presses the back of her hand to Marinette's forehead, "—your temperature is up. Let me fetch the nurse." She rises to leave but her friend catches her arm, halting her.

Marinette meets the blonde's eyes for the first time that night. Blonde hair is nearly golden in the lamplight. Emerald irises look on her with care and concern. Her face tempts me even more than skin ever could. It inspires profound affection in her heart, stirs her to imagine a future where Adrienne is her constant companion. It is too easy to picture their room as truly theirs—a bedroom in a cottage they own wherein they share meals, a bed…a life. If only it were that simple. I should quit fooling myself. Even if I were a genuine suitor, I'd have no hope of winning Adrienne's favor.

The preacher's daughter is admired by all. Skilled in embroidery, piano, singing, and etiquette, her talents make her refined. However, it's her spirit of charity and goodness, not her sophistication, that wins the affections of her peers and suitors. She'd make the perfect wife. Alya had gossiped that even Claude Bourgeois, the most eligible bachelor in France, seeks her hand. I'm lucky enough to have her friendship, wanting anything more is greedy and sinful.

"Don't go," Marinette pleads, "I mean—I don't require a nurse. I will be well in the morning."

"If you insist." The blonde returns to her own bed, but not before fetching a glass of water for her friend and snuffing out the light. How can someone as kind as her be so unknowingly cruel? Every kind action she offers me feeds my desire. Marinette turns onto her side, facing the wall. She shuts her eyes, wondering which scares her more: the lust, or the love.

The chapel is lit by moonlit streaming through stained glass. The pews are to the brim, but the room is silent. Her father watches her regretfully. Reverend Agreste stand above her kneeling form, holding a cane. She knows why she's here, but not how it came to this. The shame overpowers lucidity as she bows her head, accepting her penance. He raises the cane, eyes glinting with malice.

The blow never lands. Marinette raises her head, to find the benches empty. The moonlight turns blood red, casting menacing shadows across the stone floor. The candle's flames are flickering black. Her breath quickens. She looks over her shoulder to see that in the place of Reverend Agreste is a towering figure, all in black. A woman, she registers, before her visions adjusts to see the curling horns and furry, triangular ears sprouting from the figure's wild blonde hair. A demon! As if sensing her comprehension, the creature gives her a Cheshire grin, swirling a barbed tail.

"Dreaming about getting punished, are we? Don't tell me that's your fetish? That's a sub-prise." the creature teases with a playful tone.

"Back, demon!" Marinette scrambles away, tripping over skirts as she tries to stand. "You can't have my soul!" Damn it, what were the words I'm supposed to chant? Some sort of Latin?

"I'm not here for your soul. I'm here to…assist you,"

"How could a being of wickedness like you help anyone?" she seethes. The devil steps forward into a ray of light, illuminating her features. A black mask conceals half of what looks to be a beautiful face. Slit pupils enclosed by jade irises and sclera track the bluenette's every move. More distracting than the demon's otherworldly traits is her outfit. Skin-tight leather hugs every curve on her lithe form. Slits and keyholes give tantalizing peeks of her toned thighs and ample cleavage.

"I think you'll find that I can be quite helpful. While you may be perfectly disguised as an innocent school girl to others, I can sense your frustration, your desire." She leans down so that her face is level with Marinette's. "I can help you cure it." Split between rationality and desperation, Marinette prioritizes getting answers.

"H-How? What…what would it cost me?"

"Nothing but your participation. With me, you can express all your pent-up cravings and fantasies. Once you've gotten release, you'll have no trouble being a paragon of virtue upon waking. The best part—this is all a dream, so there will be no consequences, no chance of getting caught,"

"No consequences…" Marinette can't deny the offer is tempting. She's not sure how much longer she can go before slipping up and revealing her sinful fantasies. If anyone were to find out, the shame would be unbearable. However, she's heard enough tales of dealing with demons to know there's always an ulterior motive. "What's in it for you?"

"I am a succubus. To live, I must feed off others' sexual energy. You are oozing with it—there's enough to feed a small horde of demons. Or—" the temptress runs a clawed finger around the bluenette's jaw and down her neck, to the top of her bodice. "One ravenous succubus. Do you consent?" The question is whispered into Marinette's ear sensually, accompanied by a nibble on her earlobe. Her heart pounds against her ribcage. Aren't succubi supposed to be grotesque and cold? This one is…A lick at the nape of her neck interrupts, eliciting a gasp. The virgin struggles to recover her thoughts. This one almost looks like Adrienne. She must be partially taking on the form of the object of my affections. It's too tempting…too perfect…

"I do," Marinette whispers, shutting her lids against her own depravity. As soon as the words leave her lips, the blonde temptress descends on her. Their bodies intertwine on the cold floor of the chapel.

"My name is Chat Noir," the blonde proclaims, straddling her hips. "I tell you because you're going to be screaming it later." Marinette's jaw drops at the declaration, aghast. Noir takes this opportunity to seize her lips in a passionate kiss, forked tongue slipping in her virgin mouth. My first kiss is with a woman…no, a demon! All her protests are drowned out by sensation. She finds herself returning the kiss, her hand entangling itself in Chat's blonde waves. Panting, the two separate for air.

The temptress's ministrations return to her neck. The sensitive skin of her collarbone is suckled until a trail of rosy hickies lead to the neckline of her dress. With a frustrated hiss, Chat tears open the fabric. The feel of air on her exposed chest snaps Marinette out of the trance and her eyes pop open. Her hands leave the other woman to cover her breasts.

"Wait!"

"What is it?" Chat asks, her tone worried. Now she even sounds like Adrienne.

Marinette looks at her surroundings and down at her own body self-consciously. Exasperated, she cries, "We're in church, of all places! It's supposed to be holy, sacred and…ugh! This isn't right!" The body hovering over her relaxes, as if saying, That's all? No problem.

"We're in your dream, princess. You control where we are, what you wear, even what I wear. Just close your eyes and visualize your deepest, darkest fantasy," Marinette blushes fiercely but complies. The ideal place and circumstances for such activities have been manifesting in her daydreams for quite some time.

The foreboding chapel dissolves into a quaint cottage, situated between a field of blooming wildflowers and the forest. It's the home Marinette dreams of owning with Adrienne one day, in some impossible world where they could be together. Her stuffy, ripped school uniform becomes a flowing, frilly gown. Though they are still covered, she knows under it is equally frilly, lacey undergarments. Instead of the hard ground, her back is resting against the soft, queen-sized bed of the master bedroom. The only element that seems missing is Chat Noir. Rising from the mattress, she goes searching.

Marinette finds the demon looking somewhat out of place in the sunny meadow. Chat looks out over the landscape, lost in introspection, only interrupted when the bluenette places hand on her shoulder. She turns, revealing her new look. The temptress is clothed in a white, silky chemise. The mask is gone. A colorful flower crown adorns her head, looking a bit ridiculous adjacent her demonic horns and ears. Marinette would have laughed if she wasn't so captivated.

"You're beautiful," she murmurs, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind the other woman's ear. The resemblance between the demon and her roommate is now so complete it's overwhelming. This time, she initiates, pulling the other woman into an embrace. Their lips lock, and their hands wander. Marinette slips her palms beneath the short gown, caressing the blonde's waist and back. Pulling the sleeves down, she kisses the tanned skin revealed on Chat's shoulders. Noir interjects by picking her up by her rear. Marinette wraps her legs around the succubus' hips as she walks them back to the cottage.

"Let's take this to the bedroom," the blonde suggests seductively. They only end up making it as far as the living area as she presses Marinette against the wall. She rips away the thin pink gown. It falls to the floor, pooling at her feet. The sharp tips of her fingernails tease the exposed, alabaster skin just beneath the bluenette's bra. Her hands sneak under the fabric, cupping Marinette's breasts. Chat's fingers gently stroke her nipples, giving them an occasional pinch. The human reacts by tightening her leg's grip around the demon's hips, grinding them closer together. The friction against their sensitive areas heightens their arousal.

Chat eases Marinette's feet back to the ground, giving her ample ass a squeeze before lowering herself to the level of bluenette's panties, kneeling. Her hands and mouth roam Marinette's thighs, and she leisurely pulls down the undergarment. Adjusting their position so one of the human's thighs is resting on her shoulder, she dives in. With a teasingly gradual pace, she runs her forked tongue up the length of Marinette's labia. Rewarded with a tortured moan, she continues slowly, running circles over her clit and bringing up her hand to caress the bluenette's breasts.

"Oh, oh God, please, more!" Chat acquiesces, and her free hand begins stroking Marinette's entrance. She thrusts two fingers inside, stimulating the g-spot with a 'come-hither' motion. Her head is forced closer to the other woman's wet center by the bluenette's insistent hand pressing Noir into her, gripping her horns like her life depends on it. The succubus increases her pace, tongue movements becoming rapid, fingers pumping rhythmically. The human's mind melts into mush as she feels an unknown sensation approach on her. "I feel something—I—I'm," The reaction builds, sending sparks flying throughout her nerves. It builds, and builds, until— "Ahh, yes! Oh God…fuck! Adrienne!" Shocks run through her, sending little tremors all over her body as her pleasure peaks. The blonde keeps up the tempo as the bluenette rides out her first climax, guiding an exhausted Marinette to fall into her arms.

They rest like that, with Marinette's head burrowed in her shoulder, until Chat brings up, "Who's this 'Adrienne' you were screaming about?" The girl in question nuzzles her face even deeper into her embrace, as if trying to hide from the question.

"She's my roommate…the one who's made me so…frustrated. But it's not her fault…she's perfect—it's me, I'm…ugh, I'm going to hell!"

"Shh, shh," Chat comforts, stroking Marinette's head while an expression of shock spread across her features. Marinette's desire…is caused by me? she thinks incredulously. "You're not going to hell. But if you do, I'll be right there with you and we'll have lots more fun together…"

The human disentangles herself, salvaging scraps from her gown and covering herself with them, shaking her head. "I just hope this worked…I can't handle the constant temptation of seeing her, being close to her without being able to…never mind."

"Oh, we're not done yet, princess. You've only had one orgasm—it's going to take several more until you'll be ready to face the day," Chat bears her fangs in a mischievous grin, standing and reaching down to pull Marinette into her arms, bridal style. "We haven't even gotten to the bedroom yet."

Marinette wakes, feeling hot under the covers. There's a distinct wetness between her thighs, which is hopefully the only evidence of the steamy dreams she's had. Her eyes flutter open, to see her roommate standing at her bedside.

"Are you sure you're okay? You were making all sorts of noises in your sleep. It looked like you were having a nightmare, so I woke you up," Adrienne explains. The bluenette sits up in surprise, pulling the covers up to her chin. She heard me? Oh Christ, how much did she hear? I'm going to kill Chat. Poor innocent Adrienne, thinking the moans were from a bad dream…

"Yes, yes it was a nightmare! An awful, bloody nightmare. Thank you for waking me. I'm, uh, going to go take a bath."

"Alrighty then. I'll see you later," the blonde farewells, watching her friend climb out of bed and hurry off to the washroom. If Marinette had stayed a bit longer, she may have seen the devious smirk cross the 'innocent' girl's lips. This is going to be fun.

A/N: I've never written anything like this before, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head! Gender-bent Adrien is just too gorgeous. I'm a sucker for the "forbidden love" trope, and succubi, as well. This will probably be a one-shot.