How do you think Adrian would react to his gf wanting to watch him jerk off? I think he would be nervous at first but then get all into it, pretending he’s a cam boy for her
he thinks its funny at first, just completely absurd that you wanna watch him tug one out, he laughs in your face, looking at you like you're crazy "you're such a fucking weirdo, why would you wanna watch me jerking off?"
you could be honest with him, tell him you're just aching to see how good your boyfriend looks holding his dick, that you wanna watch as his face rips open with pleasure by his own gorgeous hand
but after that little jab- you choose to make him blush instead
"you're an insanely hot guy adrian, why wouldn't i wanna see that?" you tease with a haughty grin
adrian gulps loudly, almost chokes on his spit, he's still very unused to being called 'hot' in that way, he chuckles something bashful and infuriatingly endearing
he also chooses to mask his nerves with a deflection, another teasing jab "they got sites for that you know? if you're into that sorta thing-" his eyes shine with satisfaction when you inevitably snort in response to that
when you finally convince him to do it, when he's spread out on the bed before you he immediately goes red at the cheeks, suddenly theres nothing amusing about the situation at all
he feels the pressure of putting on a show for you under the heavy weight of your stare, he stutters his words, he asks "like t-this? is this okay? should i do it f-faster?" he literally overthinks touching himself, as if he's hasn't done it so sooo many times
you have to coo at him a couple times for him to breathe in deeply and relax, he shuffles in place, avoids your eyes like he can't stand the unrelenting attention, his hands slide down his dick in tantalizing but still hesitant strokes, so you purr at him "such a good boy adrian, i love the way you play with yourself, it gets me so hot"
and that absolutely switches something inside his brain, he chokes, his hand immediately gains momentum in its rhythm, he hisses at the friction inflicted by his own impatient hand, he lets out a loud strained moan that ends with an elongated "yeah?" intended just for you, so you keep sweet talking to him
suddenly adrian is not all that shy, now he's even making eye contact only to smile so fucking big when your brows and mouth dip in awe, his eyes roll back and he whimpers when you gasp his name in incredulity of how stupidly and devastatingly hot he looks
adrian's hair is sticking to his forehead, his glasses are at risk of falling off his nose, his abs are clenching with punched out breaths, his column stirring and arching up the bed with every time you say his name
"yeah" you answer finally, not subtle at all when you slide your hand down the front of your jeans, you both gasp when you finally make contact with your wet, neglected center, "only camboy i wanna see" you add, giving him a teasing smile that paints his entire face far more red than it already was
"god shut the fuck up" he answers with an embarrassed groan and you giggle sweetly, victorious too
adrian cant help but laugh with you at the same time he hisses at his own relentless tugs, he's trying to match the rhythm of your hands as you plunge them inside you
he gets real high on the idea of both you and him getting off without ever touching once
your fingers clutched the comforter as your walls fluttered against his girth. your mouth was open, drool stringing across the pillow as your eyes rolled back with pleasure. you could feel your pussy clenching with his thrusts, breathing in tune with the ragged pants against your ear.
"fuck-haanh- i'm close, baby"
you spread your thighs further apart, and he groaned. a hand snaked into your hair, grasping the roots firmly but not to the point of pain. his thrusts got harder and faster, tip kissing the cervix as you moaned weakly into the pillow. finally, his other hand fisted the sheets as he rutted impossibly deeper into you, so close to the edge-
"god, i-i love you-"
he grunted as his thick cum seeped into you, your pussy giving one last almighty spasm as his gooey white mess coated it from the inside. but you were so far from the physical bliss of your body, because your brain was too busy repeating what he just said.
did you hear him right?
he collapsed beside you, uneven exhales smoothing till they turned silent. you propped your head up to look at him, an uncomfortable spiky feeling in your gut. his eyes were already on you, and you could see the sudden panic rising behind them. he sighed, scrunching his eyes and sitting up.
"shit, sorry, did i say it that loud? - fuck, i didn't mean to say that.."
you simply nodded, breaking eye contact. he covered his eyes with a palm.
"i should go."
you shrugged. he didn't move.
"i did mean it."
your heart did a somersault as dread creeped into your bones. why did he have to say that?
finally looking at him, you managed to whisper out a, "i don't think this is the right time."
he stared at you for a minute, then swallowed. without saying a word, he nodded and got up. you stayed in bed, watching as he pulled his pants on and tugged a shirt over himself. he headed to the door, slowly opening it before quietly muttering, "i'll let myself out."
star divider by @petalpxl ! my toxic situationship broke no contact which got me out of my writing block to write this lol. should i text him back? ❤︎
Cant stop thinking about adrian fucking you until you have to tell him to stop. Hes cum like three times, hes past the stage of overstimulation. Just whining and grinding into you while lapping at the skin on your shoulder.
at that point its less about fucking and more about him just wanting to stay inside you for as long as you'll fucking let him honestly
even when you're tearing up at the overstimulation, even when he's already spilled out his balls like three times in a row
he hisses with every thrust because his dick is so sensitive it hurts, but he loves that shit, like a lot, he likes it when the pleasure is so overwhelming it finally starts to border on plain torture
like even when he winces theres a hint of a smile, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape but theres a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth when he lets out a breathy and unstable "aaaaghh f-fuck!" into the side of your neck "just a little longer, yeah? shit- i swear-"
but god knows you're hitting your limit when he keeps nudging into you and it feels like he might just rip you in half with every stuttered and abrupt jolt of his body against yours
"Adrian, baby- fuck! it hurts-" You whine in protest, but the effort is kind of half assed since you dont actually tell him to stop at all
if anything- you're just grabbing fistfuls of his hair a bit more harshly while he's licking and sucking at the skin of your neck and shoulder messily
so of course he thinks you're encouraging him, he moans in response to your harsh pulling and the needy sound of your words
"yeah it hurts soooooo fucking good" his voice breaks for a second when he feels you tighten around him again "holy shit! i dont think i'll be able to pull out, you're literally trapping me in!! you want me in there forever babe?- fuck yeah i know you do-" he whines, voice raising to a devastated higher pitch, his movements picking up speed with new found stamina and edge
you have to tell him to stop, you have to, any minute now... soon
An: I LOVE Perv!Adrian and I wanted to write a fic about him dating a girl who matches his freak!!! It has been too long, and I have got to write more for him! Also Y/N has a bush for plot reasons XOXO
If you were a part of Project Butterfly, especially shortly after its conception, you’d know exactly why, at the end of a long day, you wouldn’t want to go out for drinks with your coworkers. This covert government operation is composed of competent but ultimately volatile personalities who are constantly at odds with one another. So it’s a good thing you aren't.
However, you are present at the Compulsory Team Building Night Out. Adrian checked with the team first if he could invite his totally cool girlfriend, and they gave him the go-ahead because they know her: Sharon Osborne. Not that Sharon Osborne.
The point is, they didn’t take him seriously. But you could hear a pin drop when Adrian Chase, yes- their Adrian, walks in with a real life, flesh and blood woman on his arm. It’s the quiet hum in the air after social factions splinter off- really the antithesis of this occasion.
Among them is one Christopher Smith, who still knows him as Gut’s weird little brother who played DnD all the time. Adrian gets pulled into some strident conversation across the bar, leaving him just enough window to slide up next to you at the bar.
“So. You're…dating him?” Chris, the old meathead, gives a good natured head nod towards where the man in question is arguing about the Sarlac Pit with the other one in glasses.
“Adrian?” You sip from your glass. “No.”
“Yeah,” he sighs with conversational empathy. “I wouldn’t blame you…”
“But we live together.”
“With his mom?”
“No. We have a place.”
“-and you’re not….?” Chris makes a gesture you can't interpret. How’d a geek like that nail a smoke show like you? Does Adrian keep the mask on when you do it? So many questions you seem so unkeen on answering.
Your half-shrug, half-head-shake of a response does nothing to clarify the subject. So he leaves, even more confused, and moves on to the corner where those two are doing their nerd thing.
Chris gives him the same head nod, this time towards you. “What’s with her?”
“Y/N?” Adrian turns where Chris gestures for the sake of looking at you. “She’s awesome!”: a phrase that rolls over everybody's brains the way blood beads up on Kevlar from how many times they’ve heard it.
“Yeah- but I mean what’s with you two? Do you do stuff?”At this point, Chris wishes he’d just admit you were a coworker’s cousin. But he doesn’t seem to be relenting any time soon. You wave at Adrian.
Only then does he look back, shaking that lovesick look from his face. “Yeah, we do tons of stuff! Like, last week we went to the movies, and-“ An idea flashes behind his thick serial killer glasses. “Wait, do you wanna go with us sometime?“ And there Adrian goes to run the idea by you, leaving him with Economos.
“Dude. You just committed us to a movie we don’t even know?” Chris blinks.
And you seem so cool. So… normal. Everything, down to your polite smile and wave on your way out after a night of him trailing on your heels like a lost puppy. Adrian, on the other hand... “Sorry’t beat it so early, but we are getting biz-zay tonight! so…” he punctuates his exit with finger guns
Adebayo, who’d spent the past thirty minutes hearing about your board game nights, gets up to call out after him, “I- that doesn’t mean what you think it does, Adrian!”
Then, one may wonder, what on earth could ‘getting busy’ mean? With a sigh, she succumbs to that social pressure to explain, “It’s- they’re going back to her place to play ‘Settlers of Catan’.” Equally exasperated by the evening’s nonsense, Chris glances after where the door swung behind you two. “Of course those- what's Catan?”
“It’s like DnD, but with colonization. You collect resources, and-” Economos trails off before straightening with a blink, “Why didn’t they invite me? I’m, like- awesome at Catan.”
Coming to a realization of his own, Chris snaps his fingers. “That's it! It’s a roleplay thing, like a sexy maid- she could be a sexy barbarian or something!” Crickets.
“Sexy barbarian? Really?” Chris gives him a look that says ‘like you could come up with something better’, which Economos obliges. “Sexy bard, sexy Teifling, sexy rogue-”
Caught in the middle of this argument she unexpectedly started—not the first in her one week of being on the team—Adebayo blurts out, “An elf?”
“Yeah, sexy elf!”
Chris looks between the two of them. However long this operation is slated to take, it is going to be far too long. “Fuckin’ nerds...”
The next morning, all the evening’s conversation topics are forgotten except for one. “I mean, she seems really nice! Maybe they just have a lot in common.” Considering how difficult it is to juggle her own relationship and work, Adebayo finds something very sweet in the sentiment that someone like Adrian could find love.
Harcourt, who’d spent that night watching this go down from the bar and whose keen sensitivity to bullshit outweighed any kind of sentimental, romantic notions, has her own perspective. “She’s normal. Too normal,” she says, punctuated by a sip of her coffee. “I think we should keep an eye on her.”
Whereas Harcourt’s image of you was something more akin to a Bond woman seducing info from Adrian, Chris flat out assumed you’d been paid to go out with him. “So what? He’s my friend and he’s gettin’ some- good for him!” Narrowing her eyes, he’s met with that impenetrable wall of cynicism. “Does everything have to be about sex with you?”
The door to the video store-turned nerve center of the task force dings and in struts the man in question, like Bloody Mary. That conversation ceases to exist.
“Hey, buddy! How was it?” Chris high fives Adrian as if he’d just scored a Super Bowl winning touchdown, to which the latter replies, concerningly enthuastic, “We went all night!”
Next to all this jocular anthuasaim, Harcourt, and now Adebayo turn to Economos with clear accusation. “It’s a real game!” he insists, convincing nobody.
The above lapses her mind for a moment when Ads fights off a smile at the unmissable lightness in Adrian’s step as he half-hops over a box of forgotten VHS tapes. You could stealize medical equipment with how hard he’s glowing. “So… who won?”
Sitting down at a desk with a spare, untraceable A.R.G.U.S. computer, Adrian glances up. “I won by default because Y/N cheats.” Unaware of the entire office dropping whatever they were doing at that admission, he opens up Snake.
“She- she does?”
“Yeah…” Adrian beams with admiration, his mind drifting to some unbearably fond memory. “Sometimes she kisses me to break my focus.”
There’s this very rare and beautiful natural phenomena that happens when two perverts are in love- moreso, the same variety of pervert, such as you and Adrian are. And how, you ask, did this all arrange itself?
You needed someone to share the rent. Adrian wanted to move out of his mom’s.
Outside the coming and going at odd hours, and the tinge of concern you felt at his neat constant sporting of some limp or conspicuous bruise, Adrian was a considerate housemate. He never ate your leftovers or left dishes in the sink. However, there are some personal boundaries you have with the people you live with that Adrian spent thirty years without.
For example, that evening early on, when he barged into the bathroom when you were- “Adrian!“ you huff, hurrying to cover yourself with your shirt. “What are you doing?”
Only then does he squint at you, sleep pants low on his hips. “Brushing my teeth.” Spider-Man bandaids crisis cross scabby knuckles where he holds his toothbrush for emphasis. You wonder to yourself where the cameras are, and if you’re in some TV show set up. “Yeah, but-“
“You’re peeing. I mean, it’d be weirder if you didn’t pee…” And he goes back to brushing his teeth. After a few seconds, he speaks around a mouthful of foam, “And I wasn't judging your bush! Everybody has pubes.” This is how you met Adrian Chase.
In the months that follow, he disseminates through your living space. It’s small things: unmarked packages of gun oil in your mail box, bloodstains on the laundry you take turns doing, odd salves and medications in your bathroom cabinet. But as strange as it seems, there’s a new normal in this.
Every time you forget an empty glass on a table, there goes Adrian: washing, drying, and returning it to the cabinet with its friends. Like clockwork. For someone so mentally disorganized, everything in his life has its place.
You meander into his room one day, as you do when your concepts of personal space have relaxed, and find this reflected in his cases upon cases of weapons: not just guns, but nunchucks, and brass knuckles, and so many combat knives…
“So… you're really into the military?” Adrian looks up from his desk and the magazine he was servicing, realizing you were talking about the weapons. “Oh? No, I just like ‘em!” he says, the same way some girls just like horses.
That’s his cover, the same way you called eachother friends. The truth is far too messy to ever stick a label on and package. There’s nothing romantic when you lay on the couch, bodies falling eachother in that sleepy, narcotizied state while some violent movie you’ve seen a million times plays on low volume in the background. That’s what close friends do.
“Did you know that Douglas Adams theorized that dolphins were actually the smartest living things on earth?” Adrian mumbles as you run your fingers through his hair. “We see them goofing around in the water and whistling for fish- and we think they’re stupid for that. But, I mean- look at us, coming up with taxes and whatever. That’s more work...”
You hum, “Mmhm…” It wasn’t quite sexual attraction in the way you don’t want to fuck modern art. You relish his easy, dead eyed innocence that gives way like overripe fruit under a thumb.
Call it a lapse in impulse control: the unbearable warmth to how you handle Adrian, cupping his face in your hands and tilting to one side. “When you die,” you purr in your best Melina Mercouri, “I will take your skull, and keep it on my mantle.” Adrian’s giggle veers drunk as you mess up his hair, letting him fall against your chest.
It’s these little excuses: the crowding around the window to look at a peculiar bird, you pretending to kiss him goodbye before work. Maybe it was more romantic than you wanted to acknowledge.
But in the same respect, this sort of thing was inevitable. Two adults with needs and desires sharing the same space, having gone most of their lives having said needs and desires unfuffiled- these things manifest in weird ways. Anyways, he started it.
It’s the laundry. Every other work, something goes missing from your laundry, and a few days later, Adrian comes across the garment in question. You find a pair of underwear folded up on your dresser, and you think nothing of it. Until you start putting things together.
Your average person wouldnt preform this leap of logic, but this is you. Within seconds, a terrible curiosity festers in your gut as to this unsaid thing. That Adrian finds you so painfully desirable that you, what- intimidate him, into jerking off with your underwear? Your brain reframes every interaction you've had, ever.
And while you would be content feelimg all warm and fuzzy that you were the source of this depravity, it would be remiss to ignore your own perversions.
It’s not uncommon for you to end up passed out in Adrian’s room, in his bed, after you’ve spent the whole night joking around in that ditzy, sleep deprived headspace. He’s telling some story about Chris, “Yeah! And that would become their name for the rest of their life- that’s just who he is!”
“Thimble? Fucking- oh my god…” trying to pull yourself together from your fit of giggles, you sink back into his sheets with a huff. Half listening, your self control buckles just slightly, as you and turn your head just a few degrees, taking a deep inhale of whatever clean shampoo over that intrinsic, musky guy smell lingered on his pillow.
“…what was that?”
“What?”
“What you just did!”
The lack of accusation shocked you more than being caught in the act. The thought that your behavior might be weird or off putting hadnt even crossed your mind. “Your sheets smell nice. Y’know… guysmell,” you explain, floundering. Heat creeps up the sides of your neck. “It’s no worse than when you-“
“When I what?” Your nerves pool around your ankles as the room shrinks to coffin size. You’d expected even a nervous tremble in Adrian’s voice. You’d forgotten who you were dealing with. “Oh! That,” his face lights up in recognition, mortifyingly sincere. “I mean, I’m not some pervert! I washed them after- It’s fine.”
You and Adrian meet eachother’s gaze, and it’s like an animal seeing itself in a mirror for the first time. Truth is, you’re his second best friend. Adrian didn’t wanna gross you out if you didn’t like him how he likes you- which you do. But people are weird like that.
Abruptly, the confrontation changes. “Yeah?” Shifting onto your side, you reach out in the moonlight and tangle a hand in his hair like you’d done a thousand times before. “Well… I think you are.” Your voice drips like honey as you scoot closer to press your face agsinst his neck, gently craning his head back to access more pasty white throat. “I think… you're a filthy, disgusting pervert. And if you get to steal my underwear, I think I deserve something in return. For being so nice about this…”
Your hand moves to his shoulder, testing. Adrian nearly flips himself over onto his back, staring up with pure adoration behind his blown out pupils as you shift on top of him. His hands hover around yoru waist, unsure if he’s allowed to touch you. “Is this, like- a sexy, roleplay thing now?” He’s a little nervous. Cute. You nod, and he smiles. “Awesome...”
The following Monday, Harcourt storms in the front door of HQ. “All they do is watch TV and play board games!” exasperated, her mind makes the leap of answering questions people haven't asked yet, storming across the office. “Adrian and the girl- that’s it. She built the fucking lego Death Star with him for twelve hours!” Seeing this behavior from the composed adult who this whole operation frequently hinges on draws alarm.
“Wait, you’re telling me you had a stakeout, watching them?” Chris breaks into a disbelieving grin as if to say ‘I didn’t know you were into that’.
“-and they have matching pajamas! Hello kitty pajamas!” Where are the locusts? The oceans of blood? Is there any astral possibility that a woman of sound mind and body would yearn for that psychopath?
Economos, who was the only one doing work this early, replies without looking up from his computer, “Hello Kitty? Would've thought Spider-Man...”
The only one who can picture that—you and Adrian cuddled up on the couch in fuzzy PJ pants—is Adebayo. Tired of everyone freaking out about this for so long, she finally speaks up. “Have you ever considered maybe she just… likes him?”
Silence. Three pairs of eyes fall on Ads. Then, the office erupts into laughter.
im afraid if some of yall cant handle it,, its time to hop OFF tumblr. it IS tumblr afterall. same w/ ao3 that shit was built off wincest (not saying i support it) yall r gonna be freaked out … 😭 any site w/ fanfiction is gonna have ‘weird’ stuff and we all gotta accept that,
gifs so hd we can discuss how this man is 40 next year but looking 25?? going in blind i thought this mf was gen z. i said “oh 2000 or 1999 seems right.” 1987. brother hasn’t aged for over a decade. white boy found the fountain of youth or something.
Adrian's started looking at you like you hang the stars in the sky. It's cute, in a harmless, velcro puppy sort of way, but after a dinner with the gang, you just can't keep him off your heels. [KINKTOBER'25] // [GEN. MASTERLIST]
pairing: adrian chase x f!reader
tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, multiple orgasms for reader, premature ejaculation, first time hookup, fighting, friends to lovers, kind of cliffhanger // 5/13 — OVERSTIMULATION
word count: 3.8k+
a/n: this one was soooo much fun, inspired by an anon i'll post later! honestly overstim imo is closer to like 7+ orgasms but this was kind of just a teaser and i had a lot of fun writing this dynamic
The sound of Adrian’s footsteps behind you in the restaurant parking lot drums up a sharp irritation in your chest. The team tried to say goodbye an hour ago, but after lingering in conversation and the pleasure of each other’s company, you’d finally split off, yawning and shivering in the early autumn cold. Rushing to parked cars and hopping into Ubers, you waved everyone off and hopped onto the brick planter behind you.
You close your eyes, cycling slow breaths and edging toward sobriety with every intake of frigid air.
“Alright! Where to next?” Adrian steps into view, hands on his hips.
“What? Didn’t you just leave?” You stare up at him through furrowed brows.
He shakes his head, his eyes flicking upward as he thinks, “Mmmnope.”
“I was just out here alone.”
Adrian swivels his hips back towards the door, “I was in the bathroom.” He laughs as he speaks, “They do not have high standards here, I’m preemptively vetoing this place for next month’s dinner.”
You hum an acknowledgment, rolling your eyes at him.
“Hey where’d everyone go?” He looks around the parking lot.
“They all left? We thought you took off like twenty minutes ago, dude.”
He cackles, drawing his voice up, “What, like I just ran home or something? That’s crazy.”
“You’ve done it before.”
Adrian scoffs, “Well, yeah, but only if I don’t have money for Uber.”
You let the moment lie, trying to avoid eye contact. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you don’t take your place in the conversation, he continues, “Looks like it’s just you and me then!”
“I’m going home.” You hop off the ledge, brushing loose debris from the back of your jeans, “Goodnight, Adrian.”
To your dismay, he follows you through the parking lot.
“Sick, drinks at su casa.”
“More like bed at su casa.”
He cracks up behind you, “Uhh, su casa means ‘your house.”
“Yeah, we’re going to my house.”
“Man, you’re pretty but languages are not your thing.”
You feel him stop short behind you as you get to your car, thin electricity reaching out for you from the static of his clothes. Closing your eyes, you press two fingers to the bridge of your nose, speaking slow, “I’m going to bed at my house.”
His presence carries weight behind you, and you look at his warped face in the reflection of your window, a wide grin in his cheeks, “Okay, if you say so.”
It’s not that you don’t like Adrian, because you really, actually do. He stirs up feelings in you that you’ve only ever felt pulling over on the side of the road to help a turtle across, or when you stumble upon those videos of old people talking about their dead spouses. Vague panic, overwhelming pity—those big, sad eyes open wide every time he looks at you.
Everyone knows about his little crush, but it’s never bothered you. At some point or another, everyone in the group went through a period of dealing with Adrian’s exhaustive attention. It was just your turn now. You’d pay your dues and crest a new relationship with him once he’d gotten it all out of his system.
You contemplated the excitement on his face behind you. Sad turtle, lonely old person, guilt in your gut. Honestly, more exposure might speed up the process, so you were only mildly regretting the words as they came out of your mouth.
“Fine, get in.”
The drive is free from conversation, Adrian watching street lights go by, turning his head in tandem with you as you check your mirrors. You can’t hear him over the blaring radio—a measure you took to avoid tiring yourself out before you’d even made it home—but you catch the light bobbing of his Adam’s apple as you pass each street. Your gaze flicks between his mouth and the street signs; without entirely losing focus on the road, you can’t tell if he’s muttering them before or after you cross the intersections.
Pulling up to your apartment building, Adrian leans forward to peer up at it through the windshield, fingers splayed over the dashboard.
He follows at your heels through the hallways, surprising you with silence from the car to your door.
It’s unnerving, in all reality, to have him so quiet. You start wondering if you really were sober enough to be driving home, or, at least, if he would agree. He doesn't have any weapons, as far as you're aware.
The silence culminates in his lips against yours the second you shut the door and face him, a monotonous, “welcome” dying halfway through, swallowed by his mouth. It catches you entirely off guard, your noses bumping, his teeth clacking harsh onto yours. It’s by no means a good kiss, but the shock keeps you fumbling for a second before you can find his shoulders to push him away.
“What the fuck, dude?” You drop your keys hard into the bowl by the door and bring your hands up to scratch through your scalp, fussing with yourself to settle the fire in your nerves.
“What?” He knits his eyebrows together, mouth fallen open in a pout. His bottom lip glistens.
“Why did you do that?” You throw an arm out, gesturing at the door.
“Didn’t you want me to?” He cocks his head at you, pulling his lips between his teeth and working his jaw.
“What could possibly make you think that?”
His confusion melts into a goofy smile, “Duh, ‘going to bed.’ I’m not a moron I know going to bed is slang for sex.”
“I said I was going to bed! Singular, solo, just me.”
“Why’d you even let me come with you then if you were just gonna masturbate in the bedroom and leave me out here alone?”
You press three fingers into your forehead, massaging the skin, “Nobody is masturbating, or having sex. I was talking about sleep.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“I dunno, maybe because when have I ever propositioned you for sex?”
He rests his chin in his hand, thinking.
“Never, Adrian, the answer is never.”
“Well, I don’t know! I thought something changed.” Watching him force his features into anger, he gulps heavy, settling back into a deep pout. He crosses the apartment and sits down at the edge of your couch; you can see him fighting resignation, his eyes narrowing but avoiding yours for more than half a second.
Taking in a full breath, you exhale through your nose before speaking, leveling your voice, “I know you seem to really like me lately, but assumed you were just going through a phase, like with the rest of the group. You never tried to have sex with them.” You take a beat, recalling the dinner where everyone found out about the threesome with Chris, “Most of them. But like, never Ads! And you followed her around for months last year.”
He lets out a laugh, voice pitching up, “How would that even work? She’s a lesbian.”
“Okay, John then.”
“Too tall.”
“Harcourt.”
Another laugh, “Where do I begin?”
You stare up at the ceiling, focusing on an old water stain in the popcorn texture.
He’s mustered the security to stare at you again, but you’re not sure you can meet him there. The kiss was a shock, but on top of it you were struck by a bolt of true disgust that he would ever try something so brash with you of all people. The one thing you could count on from Adrian was no surprises, ever. There was a learning curve to him, to be sure, but on and off the field he was exactly where he was needed. Sometimes the things that came out of his mouth were unexpected, but to you, he was the most predictable of the bunch.
No part of you ever considered him a romantic or sexual prospect. How could you? It was Adrian. The man couldn’t get through a single conversation with a stranger without talking in circles and leaving them worse off than he found them. He whined over insignificant conversational hiccups, clung onto your every move, and was far too open about every ridiculous thought in his head. You could only imagine how confused, grating, and—let’s face it—pathetic the sex would be.
You could own up to being flattered by the attention, sure. You weren’t blind, in the world where he wasn’t entirely socially maladroit and fawning over every word you said he would be one of the hottest men you’ve ever known. But standing here, in this world, reckoning with the reality that your friend harbored deeper feelings than you ever thought him capable of churned up nausea in your stomach, made your brain prickle with morbid curiosity.
Medication would soothe the nausea, but only courage could sate that biting curiosity. You're certain you would regret it.
“Why me, then?”
“What?”
Crossing your arms, you force yourself to look at him, “You actually want to fuck me, yeah?”
He nods, eyes agape, wringing his hands in his lap.
“Why? What’s the distinction here? And don’t give me some bullshit answer like ‘perfect height’ or ‘not a lesbian.’ I want a real, clear reason.”
Adrian rolls his eyes at you, “Those are two perfectly valid reasons, but if you must know...” He trails off, swallowing, “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you ‘don’t know?”
“There’s not a lot of nuance in that statement,” He bites back, and for the first time in your life you can imagine hitting him.
“Okay, well I mean, I’m never gonna consider fucking you if you can’t even name one difference between your feelings for me and anyone else.”
“You said you never propositioned me for sex anyway.” The indignance in his voice kicks up something in you. Frustration, mostly.
“Right.” You cross the living room and point a finger at him, clipping his nose, “And now I never will.”
He bats your hand away, standing up to meet you, “Fine!” He gesticulates wildly as he rambles, “Fuck it. You want reasons respective or irrespective to you being a major hottie? Because I got both, a lot of em.”
You’re struck silent by his animation.
“Oh, I got it, I’ll go alphabetically, how’s that?”
You’ve never seen him so aggravated, and you lean back as he makes his way into your space, rattling off the list you requested.
“Always listens when I talk, amazing backup in the field, ass, birthday is close to mine so we can have a joint party, boobs, books all the group hangouts, breasts, capable of killing criminals without remorse...”
The anger in his voice dissipates as he works through the alphabet, and around the letter ‘N’ he starts to lose steam.
You catch his eye, standing in silence for several seconds before he stutters, voice small, “So, what? Do you want to fuck me now?”
And against all odds, you do.
You’re not sure if it’s the intrigue of whatever version of himself he just showed you for the first time, or the break neck return to being sad, pathetic, and desperate for your approval, but either way, you tilt up and kiss him, nodding against his mouth.
Adrian wraps an arm around your back, the other snaking underneath your ass to lift you into his arms.
The two of you are in your bedroom before you can comprehend the full breadth of the kiss, the pleasant pressure of his tongue in your mouth, lips slippery and firm as they wash over you.
He drops you onto the bed, ducking over your body, latching his mouth to your neck.
You anticipated a kiss like the one at the door, awkward and clumsy, at the very least tentative after such a roiling confrontation, but he kisses you with desperation and certainty.
He drags his tongue up the length of your pulse, sucking a hickey behind your ear, one hand slipping underneath the hem of your sweater to grab at your abdomen. Your skin depresses beneath his fingertips, soft flesh squishing so harsh you can feel muscles tensing over your rib cage. The sensation hitches your breath, and your hands fly to his face, forcing him back into a kiss.
Adrian groans into your mouth as you tug at his hair, driving his hips into you. He mutters inaudible obscenities into your throat before breaking to yank off his own clothing. He throws them into the corner of the room, but his attention snaps back when you scoot backward to settle on the bed.
“Where are you going?” His eyebrows kick with upset, frown on his lips.
“Nowhere, just...” You let your eyes drag down his body. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him clad in only underwear, but it feels like it. His skin is flushed, abdomen flexing with his heaving breaths. It takes everything in you to meet his eyes again, “Getting comfortable.”
“Oh, good.” He moves to kneel at the edge of the bed, eyes bright with a smile just covered by his biceps as they reach forward to work on the button of your jeans.
You lift your hips to let him yank them off, and he grabs the back of your calf, lifting your leg to kiss from your ankle upward.
With every succeeding kiss, he moves further inward, curving around your leg until he’s placing kisses on your inner thighs, nipping at the warm skin.
“I want to do this first, okay?”
You nod, and he comes up to meet your mouth, hands sliding over either side of your torso and pulling the sweater off with them.
“Thank you.” He whispers against your lips, falling into an involuntary rhythm of deeper kisses until he’s pulling back to laugh and shake his head, “Almost got me.”
He gives a you a chaste kiss, hovering over you and flicking his eyes down to your mouth, “Those are very distracting, you know.”
This Adrian catches you as off guard as the kiss at the door did, but the fluttering in your stomach is a far cry from the spike of disgust you’d felt before. You try to speak, to bounce off his amorous chatter, but your voice dries up and refuses to produce more than a squeak.
He smiles at you and re-situates himself between your legs, pressing his mouth against the fabric of your underwear, nose rustling the cotton against your clit as he prods at your folds with his tongue.
“Oh, my, fu—” Blindsided, you tug at his curls, the soaking underwear suctioning against you, his mouth working it against your clit. The pleasure between your legs is muffled, climbing through the anticipation of his bare tongue on you. You reach down to yank at the hem, pushing for more, but Adrian catches your wrist and places your hand over your belly, giving the back of it a gentle pat.
He feels for your breasts, sliding a hand underneath the wiring to run a thumb back and forth over the taut nipple, circling in tandem with his tongue. The fabric bunches in his mouth, and he closes his lips over it, sucking at your clit and tilting his head just back and forth. The barest movement shooting rockets up your gut until you’re cresting your first orgasm.
You tighten your grip on his hair, free hand flying up to your breast, interlacing your fingers with his. The top layer of your skin flocks with pleasure, goosebumps raising on your arms and legs, frozen in place as the climax cycles through your limbs and explodes in your core.
Tugging back from between your legs, he coasts a finger up the wet fabric as you shudder, peeling the underwear off and down your legs, into the pile with the rest of the clothes. He slips his two middle fingers between your folds, laughing as your hips hitch up into him, changing pace from slow to slower, each nick on your clit sending a little spasm through you. He watches even as you clamor for him, letting you scratch at his side, tug his wrist, anything to get him to kiss you.
When you’ve stopped reacting to the touch on your clit, he ducks back to your lips and sinks his fingers into you. You moan into his mouth a beat ahead of his own as he ruts his erection over your thigh.
His hand slides underneath your head, tilting you towards him as he lays at your side, fucking his fingers into you and letting himself fall into the rhythm he’d pulled away from earlier.
“Jesus, Adrian.” Your hand is pinned between your bodies, and you reach to flatten your palm over the curve of his abdomen, nails finding purchase in his muscle. You bring your other hand over to cradle his face, but he shrugs out of the touch, cringing.
“Here, grab my arm, you can feel how I’m fucking you.” He backs away, flicking his eyes toward his forearm, and diving back to kiss you as you obey. His voice is so soft, so soothing under such desired duress. You wonder how it’ll feel to sleep next to him, fucked out and accepting him in your bed, at least until morning.
You close your hand around his bicep, scratching your thumbnail over a small bump.
He slips his fingers from you and runs them between your folds, up to your clit to circle the tense nerves.
Arching your back into his touch, he runs down to sink back into you, thumb stretching to replace the lost sensation on your clit. He hitches his leg underneath your back, filling the space you made, his other leg coming over your thigh to hold you in place as you squirm through your second orgasm.
This climax centers in your gut, a pinprick fluttering outwards until you’re fighting to get away from the sensation, his vice grip keeping you stuck in the thumping pleasure of his fingers working you through.
Crying out into his mouth, you seek relief through kisses, hunger gnawing at you for another and another, all you can take until the orgasm has faded to a dull ache in your core.
You laugh in crazed disbelief, pressing your hair up off your forehead, beads of sweat at the hairline, “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”
Adrian wipes his hand off on his boxer briefs and centers his body over you, holding himself up with fists on either side of your head, cocking to the side, eyebrows knitting with mild confusion. There’s a smirk on his lips, “I am fucking you.”
Pushing him over onto his back, you straddle his lap and lean forward to push your noses together, “You know what I mean.” His erection twitches between your legs, and your eyelids flutter closed, the sensation on your clit feeling more like pain than pleasure for the first time.
He pinches around your hips, settling his grip at the base of your spine, “Mmm pretty sure finger fucking is still fucking.”
“You’re so pedantic,” You shove his face away from you, but he snaps back to look at you, ducking into your chest to kiss up your throat, hitching his hips up against you.
“Ah, fuck, careful.” You hover just over his erection.
He pulls back to look at you, concern writ in his features, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just...” You laugh, heat rising in your cheeks, “A little sensitive.”
"Shit, that’s awesome." Adrian grins at you, scooting down the bed and snaking his arms around your hips adjusting you over his face, "I can do more, though.”
Before you can protest, he’s pulling your cunt to his mouth, tongue slipping into your entrance. The feeling is less overwhelming than the pressure of his erection on your clit, but still you squirm against him, keeling over to grab at your headboard.
“Fuck, fuck.” You blurt expletives one over another, and Adrian’s grip tightens every time you try to relieve the tension between your legs.
The building stress stretches over minutes upon minutes, his tongue alternating between your clit and your entrance. He seems perfectly content where he is, though you push against a budding self-consciousness, on the verge of apologizing before he—
“What?” He mutters, letting you break from his face for the first time.
“Huh?” You exhale, looking down.
“Why’d you apologize?”
“Oh, just—” You swallow hard, “I’m taking a long time.”
He laughs, and the hot air hits the pulsing nerves of your cunt, “You came twice already.” His features fall and he narrows his eyes, “Wait, you did cum twice, right?”
You sit back onto his chest, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”
Pride flashes over his face, “Do you know what a refractory period is?”
“Yes, stupid, I know what that is.”
“You came twice in seven minutes, I wish I could do that—mine is twenty six.”
Whatever embarrassment swirled in your stomach before, he’s all but quelled it. He speaks to you in that soothing, low timbre, analytical and detached from pretension. You laugh, squeezing his cheeks, “Alright, point taken.”
Nodding, he pulls you back to his mouth, smiling, “Let’s figure out what yours is.”
You lurch forward as he runs his tongue against you like nothing stopped him in the first place, grip on you tighter as you drive your forehead into the smooth wood.
The heat in your cunt swells as before, nerves tired but kicking, and almost instantaneously you crash through your third orgasm. This climax twists through you, static shocks firing into your brain, and you freeze ram rod over Adrian’s face before the gentle push of his hand guides you backwards to lay arched over his abdomen.
He tilts his head up to work you through it, hands on your hips, humming against you, the minute vibrations sending you deeper over the edge until you’re forcing yourself away from him, whining moans spilling from your lips. It’s messy, this one, and you feel Adrian himself shaking underneath you.
“No no no, fuck.” He groans, bringing his knees up.
You roll over onto your stomach, finding your breath, and reach underneath the hem of his boxer briefs. His cock is slick with cum, and you turn to look at him, his cheeks flush, features frustrated.
“That’s flattering.” You laugh, resting your forehead against his stomach.
He reaches down to yank the underwear off, wiping himself up before he throws it onto the pile and forces you onto your back.
“We’ve got twenty six minutes for you, now.” He shrugs, sliding his softening member between your folds, the contact keeping him half-hard, little jolts making him shiver over you.
You shudder under the touch as his head nicks your clit, moans catching in your throat as that sharp pleasure rocks through your gut.
I could see Adrian watching the steamy part in a movie like this 😂 Hiding behind a pillow or whining about fast forwarding through it to get the action / plot.
a random headcanon that popped into my mind at 6am in the morning >>>
adrian chase 1000% prefers a bush or any form of hair down there because adrian (and bdrian) agrees that human skin is the worse thing to softly touch them but! shag carpeting is the best thing to press their face against
imagine him just nuzzling into you down there
Adrian Munson @adrianmunson - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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