Summary: Lex Luthor forbids his usually obedient housewife from decorating their penthouse for fall, so after two weeks of her quietly ignoring him, he finally gives in and lets her decorate—with limits—leading to a relieved, fluffy reunion.
Word Count: 1,126
All Dividers in each story this month are by: solitary-serendipity 🤎
read my other flufftober stories here | Flufftober 2025
You should have known better than to bring it up during breakfast—Lex hated distractions when he was reading reports. Still, you’d been feeling restless, craving something cozy to soften the sharp edges of the penthouse. Cinnamon candles, soft throw blankets, maybe a few garlands and pumpkins… something warm to make fall feel real instead of a date on a calendar.
“I was thinking,” you began, carefully slicing into your toast, “maybe we could decorate a little for fall? Just the living room, nothing crazy—”
Lex didn’t even look up from the holographic display hovering above the table. “No.”
Your fork paused. “No?”
“It’s a ridiculous idea,” he said, as if swatting a fly. Tone flat, final. Eyes still focused elsewhere.
You blinked, the smallest sting landing right behind your ribs. “Ridiculous?”
He finally glanced at you then—brows lifted, vaguely amused that you were surprised. “This is a multi-million dollar penthouse, not a craft store.”
Your shoulders fell before you could stop them. “I wasn’t going to glue glitter to the windows, Lex. Just… some fall accents. You know, to make it feel cozy and more homey.”
“I said no.” He dismissed you by looking back at his display. “That should be the end of the conversation.”
Normally, it would’ve been. You were used to his dominance, used to being his soft, obedient constant in a world of sharks. He didn’t have to raise his voice or threaten—Lex Luthor never needed to. One firm sentence and you’d melt.
But the way he’d said ridiculous…
You didn’t argue. But you didn’t speak again either. Not that morning.
⸻
The first day, Lex didn’t notice your silence. You still made the bed precisely, still cooked dinner the way he liked, still wore those pretty dresses he adored. You just… didn’t try to make conversation. He talked, you hummed or nodded. When he kissed your cheek, you let him, but you didn’t lean in like usual.
By day three, he noticed.
“You’re quiet,” he said one evening, loosening his tie as he entered the bedroom. You were folding laundry, lips parted just a little, eyes down.
“Mhm.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
He tilted his head, studying you like a problematic equation. “You’re not upset about the decoration nonsense, are you?”
You did not look at him. “You said it was ridiculous.”
“And it is.” He slipped behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. Normally you’d melt into him, tilt your head, sigh. Instead, you set down the shirt in your hands and stepped away under the guise of putting things in the closet.
He froze.
He didn’t say anything about it at first, but you could feel him assessing you every time you moved. You still did everything he expected—house immaculate, meals timely, clothes pressed, his routines anticipated—but you were quiet. Distant. Not bratty. Just… not his usual perfectly pliant darling.
And it unnerved him.
⸻
After a week, Lex started trying to bait you back into conversation.
At breakfast, he’d say something dryly humorous just to see if you’d laugh. You’d smile politely and eat your yogurt. Passing him in the hallway, he’d tap your hip and say, “Careful, darling,” just to get a reaction. You’d murmur “sorry” and keep going.
The fourth night, he’d come home from a meeting later than usual. You’d already eaten. His dinner was still warm on the stove in a covered dish. His suit jacket was on its hanger. His files had been organized and moved to his office like you always did.
Everything was perfect—except you didn’t greet him. You didn’t kiss his jaw or ask how his day was. You were reading on the couch, curled under a blanket without inviting him to join.
Lex stood there for a full minute, watching you. Waiting.
You didn’t even look up.
⸻
By the end of the second week, you figured either he’d forget entirely or he’d put you over his knee for acting off. He was never cruel, but he could be cold when crossed. You weren’t trying to punish him—you just couldn’t bring yourself to keep pretending your feelings weren’t bruised.
That afternoon, you were upstairs in your shared bedroom, hair tied back, cozy in one of his old shirts, reading while the rain tapped the glass. You didn’t hear him come in—you were too lost in the chapter.
“Fine.”
His voice cut through the quiet.
Your eyes lifted from the page. Lex was standing in the doorway, jacket off, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable.
You blinked. “Fine, what?”
He exhaled through his nose like it irritated him to repeat himself. “Decorate.”
You sat up slowly, unsure you’d heard right. He stepped further in, arms crossing.
“But nothing over the top,” he added sharply, like the concession physically pained him. “No inflatable pumpkins. No paper bats hanging from the ceiling. And absolutely no scented pinecones.”
Your heart thudded hard in your chest. “Really?”
He gave a small, strained nod. “If it will end this… whatever this is—yes.”
For a fraction of a second, he looked almost uncomfortable, as though admitting defeat violated some internal code. Then you moved.
You shot off the bed so fast his eyes widened. Then you threw yourself into his arms with a delighted gasp, nearly knocking him backward.
“Lex!”
He caught you reflexively, hands firm on your waist. Your legs wrapped around his hips like instinct. You cupped his face and kissed him, hard and happy and breathless.
He let out a startled huff against your mouth, then his grip tightened and he kissed you back, low and urgent. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but there was no bite in it.
“You’re the best,” you said against his jaw, and you meant it.
“Mm. You’ve been insufferable.”
“You called me ridiculous.”
His hands flexed against your thighs. “…It was a poor word choice.”
You leaned back enough to look at him, eyes shining. “You hurt my feelings.”
He didn’t flinch, but his gaze flickered. “I noticed.” A pause. “I didn’t like it.”
You kissed him again, softer. “Thank you for letting me decorate.”
“I said nothing excessive,” he warned, as if he needed the last word. “Subtle. Elegant. And if I see a single plastic scarecrow, I’ll set it on fire.”
You giggled and nuzzled into his neck. “Deal.”
Lex carried you to the bed without putting you down, lips brushing your ear as he muttered, “Next time you want something, try asking once instead of staging a silent rebellion.”
“You wouldn’t have listened,” you said simply.
He didn’t argue—because you were right.
But when you lifted your head to smile at him again, he blinked like he was surprised by how much he’d missed it.
And for the first time in two weeks, he kissed you first.
Summary: When Ultraman overhears your plan to leave Lex, your secret becomes your sentence. Cornered between Lex’s cruel smile and Ultraman’s silent menace, you’re about to learn exactly what it means to beg for forgiveness.
Tags/warnings: smut, noncon, threesome f/m/m
Your hands trembled and your voice shook as you whispered into your phone. “I can’t do this anymore.” You were tired of it. Tired of everything. Sure, the gifts, the money, the trips- they all seemed great, but they came at the price of obeying Lex’s every whim. A man more obsessed with destroying Superman than loving you.
“I hate it here. I have to leave before he locks me away in that damn pocket dimension.”
Your whispers were too quiet for any normal man to hear, but not him. You didn’t know Ultraman was listening. You didn’t even know he was there, just around the corner of Lex’s study, head tilted slightly as he rose from his chair and turned to fetch his boss.
Your friend tried to calm you over the phone. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Just breathe, just-”
You froze when you felt it, a shift in the air that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. There he was, Ultraman, clad in his black suit, a wall of silent menace blocking the doorway. He said nothing. He never did.
You fumbled the phone behind your back, ending the call like you could somehow erase the confession. But you were pinned under that cold, unblinking gaze, hidden behind his goggles.
You took a step back. He stepped forward, quiet, threatening. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Slowly, Ultraman turned his head to look over his shoulder, an unspoken signal.
And then you heard it. The sound of Lex’s footsteps, slow and deliberate, echoed across the marble floor like a promise of punishment. Lex stepped into the doorway beside Ultraman, his blue eyes bright with calculation and a flicker of something darker. His gaze roamed up and down your body, taking in the sight of you, cornered, trembling, guilty.
"Did you think you could keep secrets from me?" Lex asked, his voice soft, feigning tenderness as he stepped forward. Ultraman did not move, standing in the doorway, watching.
Lex reached out, his knuckle brushing along your jaw, tilting your face up to his. Even though he was shorter than Ultraman, he was still a giant compared to you. You were eye level with his chest, and you shrank into yourself. You couldn’t help the way your body shook, and you couldn’t even breathe. His smile was a blade, cutting through every bit of certainty you had about leaving.
"Don’t worry," he murmured. "You’re not going anywhere. In fact..." His eyes flicked to Ultraman, then back to you, and a wave of anxiety washed over you. "I think you owe me an apology, don’t you?"
Ultraman’s shadow fell over you both, silent, complicit, ready to follow through with whatever punishment Lex had in mind.
Your mind went to the pocket dimension, and your breath quickened. The walls around you seemed to close in, the edges of your vision blurring. "Lex, Lex, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Your eyes pleaded with him, filling with tears. He was going to kill you. "I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid of me, and-"
A loud crack filled the air. Your body slammed to the ground, and you felt the sharp heat of his hand on your cheek.
"Shut up."
You cowered on the ground, staring down at his luxury brand shoes, terrified to make eye contact.
Lex sneered at your trembling frame on all fours. Tears flowed freely, and you sniffed, trying your best to comply and keep him happy.
"Put her on the couch."
Your body tensed up when Ultraman’s gloved hands grabbed your upper arm. He dragged you to your feet before picking you up with ease and tossing you onto the couch. You had no time to catch your bearings as you bounced on the cushions.
Both Lex and Ultraman stood over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling more tears escape.
"Strip."
Your eyes shot open. Lex was looking at you with a raised brow, expectant. Waiting. You glanced at Ultraman, who remained stoic and silent, watching your every move. You knew Lex was upset, furious even, but you couldn’t help but pause, glancing back from Lex to Ultraman.
“But Lex, he’s in here.”
Lex stared down at you, expression blank, before he barked out a laugh. You startled back from the sudden noise. “Sweetheart, you’re in no position to deny me. I don’t give a fuck that he’s in here.” He crouched down so that he was eye level with you. “If we were in front of my entire company, I would still expect you to listen. So, you can either take off your clothes now, or you can disappear forever.”
Lex stood back up, watching you closely with his arms crossed and a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying this. Your hands fumbled with the hem of your shirt, fingers trembling so badly that you could barely grip the fabric. You lifted it and peeled your shirt over your head, shivering from the cool air that hit your skin as well as the overwhelming sense of shame that shook you to your core.
Ultraman did not move. He continued to stand behind Lex, and even though his eyes were hidden behind his goggles, you could feel him staring straight through you.
Goosebumps rose along your arms as you reached back behind your body, unclasping your bra. You let it slip from your shoulders and fall to the floor before you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to gain some semblance of modesty.
You peeked up at Lex through your lashes, dread hitting you as you realized he was waiting for you to remove the rest. Your arms shook as you lowered them and hooked your thumbs under your pants and underwear. You shifted your hips so that you were able to tug both down at the same time, kicking them off until they joined your other clothes on the floor. You just wanted this humiliation to be over.
As soon as your pants and underwear hit the floor, your arms went back up to hide your chest, your thighs pressing together to keep your dignity. Lex stepped closer, reaching out so that his fingertips trailed over your collarbone. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact, and your body froze, unsure of what he was going to do next.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. He leaned in, and you could smell the cologne that stuck to his clothes fill your senses as his breath brushed against your ear. “You know, you should be grateful. Most people never get a chance to apologize. They never get the chance to be forgiven.”
Your lips parted, but your throat was dry. You wanted to beg and plead, but you knew better. Lex wouldn’t want you to interrupt whatever sick powerplay he was doing. His hand slipped under your chin, tilting your head up again so that you had no choice but to look up at him.
“Look at you.” Lex took in your shrinking appearance, reveling in your red eyes and tear-stained face with hints of mascara trailing down. “Trying to run from this? From me?” He shook his head. “Do you not see how foolish that was?” His grip on your chin tightened, and you winced. “Do you not realize how replaceable you are?”
Lex shoved you back so hard you bounced against the couch. His chest rose and fell as the anger rolled off him like heat. His right hand quickly reached out and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you onto your knees. You yelped, your hands flying up to grab his wrist before he tutted at you. “Not so fast.” Lex glanced over at Ultraman. “Get behind her. I want her mouth free for a real apology.”
Ultraman complied, and his footsteps echoed against the floor as he made his way behind your body. The couch cushion shifted beneath his weight, and you struggled against Lex, panic surging through your system. You squirmed, humiliated, feeling Ultraman’s silent presence behind you. There was no way out.
One gloved hand settled heavy on your lower back, pressing your bare chest against the couch. The other gripped your hip, holding you in place with ease. Lex watched you, the corner of his mouth curling as he looked you over: completely bare and trembling under Ultraman’s grip. His free hand moved to your face, the pad of his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip. It was a stark contrast from the rough treatment you had just endured.
“Suck.” He pressed his thumb into your mouth, and you obeyed, lips parting as you stared up at him.
“Good girl.” The hand that was holding your hair in a tight grip loosened, and he petted your head, breath escaping his mouth as you continued to suck on his thumb.
“Now, you’re going to apologize properly. Use that mouth for something useful.” His thumb left your mouth with a quiet pop before unbuckling his belt. Your eyes locked with his, and he took his time as he pulled himself free, taking pleasure in how mortified you looked. “Keep her still."
You flinched, feeling Ultraman’s grip tighten on your hip. The pressure he applied to your lower back pinned you even harder against the cushions as he adjusted himself, muscled legs straddling your own.
Lex gave you no warning as he pressed the tip of his dick against your lips. He was already hard, seeming to get off on how humiliated you were. You could barely make out the slight natural musk from him. He rubbed his tip against your mouth as he pumped himself lazily, smearing a bead of precum over you. You tried to move back, resisting, but you had nowhere to go. You were trapped.
You whimpered, cheeks burning with shame as you slowly opened your mouth. Maybe the quicker you got this over with, the quicker he would forget your transgression against him. Lex pushed past your lips, groaning softly once he felt your tongue against his length. His fingers tangled in your hair, and he forced himself deeper.
“You were so ready to run your mouth about leaving. Now I want you to put it to work.”
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes again, and you complied, doing your best to suck him off with what little movement you had.
Lex pushed himself deeper until your nose brushed against his skin, hints of stubble rubbing against you. Your throat clenched as you struggled not to gag. You talked yourself through breathing through your nose. Tears spilled freely now, your vision blurry as you blinked up at him, helpless.
“That’s it,” Lex sighed. He petted your head in a way that a lover would, gingerly running his fingers through your hair. “This is what an apology looks like.” Lex pumped into your mouth as he continued. “Maybe if you do a good job, I won’t send you to the pocket dimension after all. This will just be considered a slight lapse of judgment.”
He rocked his hips even harder, and drool started to drip down your chin. You whimpered around him, and the vibration made his hips stutter. Each thrust forced you harder against Ultraman’s grip. You did your best to suck him, using what little room you had to please him. You had heard about the prison he kept in the pocket dimension, more importantly, about the ex-girlfriends he put in there.
Lex’s laughter was soft, satisfied, as he tilted his head back. "Look at you, so desperate to stay. Keep going, sweetheart. Show us you mean it."
Ultraman’s grip never loosened, and you could hear his breathing get heavier over the wet sounds of you sucking off Lex. His fingers on your waist flexed, and you felt yourself realize that he was enjoying this.
Lex seemed to realize this as well, and he glanced back at Ultraman before looking down at you. “I think you need to do more to show how sorry you really are.” He thrust into your mouth hard, making you choke. “Fuck her.”
Your body convulsed, trying to breathe through your blocked airway, and you started to twist and squirm under their grip. Ultraman’s hand on your lower back left, and you heard the tell-tale sound of his zipper coming undone.
Your eyes looked up at Lex, pleading with him. You tried to beg him to stop, that you were sorry, but it just came out in an unintelligible, garbled mess.
The weight of Ultraman’s dick rested where his hand had been. You jumped at the feeling, and he placed his now free hand on the other side of your waist before he began to slide his length up and down between your folds. Blood rose to your face, feeling how slick you had started to become as he pushed through it, his tip catching at your clit with each thrust.
You moaned around Lex, your body going against your mind. Would it be better if he had just thrown you in a cell?
“You aren’t here to make her feel good. Fuck her.”
With that, Ultraman sank his tip inside your body at a fast and punishing pace. Your walls burned as you stretched to accommodate him, and his heavy breaths quickly turned into pants. Each thrust of his pushed you onto Lex. You were trapped between the two men, no, monsters, as they both used your body.
Lex groaned out, no longer having to move himself within you. His right hand gripped your hair, and his left reached down, cradling your face. You sobbed around his dick, confused from the humiliation and pleasure that was inflicted upon you. He shushed you, thumb wiping away a tear.
“Are you sorry, sweetheart?”
You did your best to nod, trying to focus on sucking him. Lex huffed out a laugh and smiled down at you, feigning kindness. “I bet you are…” A particularly rough thrust from Ultraman shoved you farther on his dick. “Are you ever going to try and leave again?” You tried to shake your head, and the response came out as a garbled mess. His fingers gripped your face hard, and he jerked into your mouth. “That’s right. You’re. Fucking. Mine.” And there was nothing you could do but let him prove it.
Your throat burned, and your body rocked between them, every thrust and every muffled sob sinking you deeper into the truth you had tried so hard to escape. Lex’s grip in your hair, Ultraman’s punishing pace behind you, the wet slap of skin and the sting of tears mixing with spit: all reminders that there was no escape and no freedom.
Both men used your body. You were just a toy, a thing for them to use, to get off to. Your thoughts slipped away with each movement, thighs clenching together as Ultraman fucked into you. A small voice in the back of your mind hoped that Lex would give you some relief, but you knew that this wasn’t the time. You needed to make it up to him so that he wouldn’t get rid of you.
Your eyes were on Lex as he watched Ultraman pump his dick into your body, biting his bottom lip. His fingers gripped your head even harder, and his pants came out quicker. He was close.
“You aren’t going anywhere unless I say. You’re mine. My fucking property…” Lex continued, growling to himself, before he groaned out. You shut your eyes, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose. His cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly, and your mouth was sore from his girth. Lex spilled into your throat, pressing into you so deep that your nose was pressed against his skin. You did your best to swallow it all, trying to clear your airway. He held you there for a minute, panting out before he glanced up at Ultraman.
Ultraman was hunched over your body, his thrusts becoming erratic. Lex panted out before he pulled his softening dick out of your mouth, and let you go. Your head and upper body immediately fell to the couch cushion as he fucked down into you.
“All right, all right. Finish up.”
It didn’t take long. You watched Lex through glassy eyes as he shoved himself back into his pants; any coherent thoughts you had before were gone. There was nothing but the feeling of Ultraman’s intense strength ramming into you over and over. Ultraman’s thrust was harder and harder, his fingertips on your waist digging uncomfortably tight. You groaned out, fingertips gripping onto the cushion before he pulled out. His dick pressed between your cheeks, and he humped against you a few times before moaning, spilling out over your ass and lower back.
The couch shifted beneath you as Ultraman stood, his weight gone but his presence lingering in the hot mess he left behind on your skin. Your throat burned, your limbs trembled, your cheeks slick with spit and tears.
Lex’s low laugh drifted down to you like the last nail in your coffin. “Go clean yourself up.” You knew there was nothing left to do but stay.s
hey everyone, @sadtrombonemusic here. i’ve decided to make a second side account to post writing and hopefully they will make it into the tags. I will be re-posting most of my recent writing on here and most likely deleting them from that account. My masterlist will be the same and simply link to the fics posted on here instead!
Wow, I can get sexual, too: An Adrian Chase x reader fic- Chapter 1
series masterlist here
warnings: eventual smut, masturbation, twitter nude culture, the very slightest dub con but not really just saying this to be safe, mutual pining, idiots in love, perv!reader but also perv!adrian
If someone asked what your vice was, you'd have to say it was something normal, something reasonable. You could be like any middle aged man in Evergreen and say darts and draft beers. You could be like any of the girls you graduated with back in Gotham and say shopping or accidental dates with the Joker’s henchmen that all of your friends had coincidentally gone on- multiple times. But no, you couldn't be that easy or simple. You had to lie and pick one of those options instead of being truthful. You went for something in between, you would say cheap beer and extremely choice but expensive makeup. It's not like you could tell them you were almost addicted to @mattvtweets tributes and videos. To the point where you made a dummy account with your most racy lewd picture as the profile picture and a Fargo reference as a fake name and you had his account notifications turned on. It's also not like you could mention that it's your favorite coworker under an equally fake identity.
It's not like you were looking, you werent. You were twitter mutuals with your team, and you were already a bit of a purveyor of twitter nude culture. You’d memorized a few of your favorites and donated to a few of their onlyfans links, but one stuck out to you in a big way. @mattvtweets had a body to die for, slight abs with the cutest tiniest bit of chub, chiseled arms, a nice girthy… clean apartment.
It took three videos for you to recognize the apartment. The large mirror he stood in front of in every video showed off a lot more than what you think he might have wanted to show, but you saw it all. Specifically, you saw all you needed to see to connect all of the dots.
It started with a coffee mug. There was one video he posted late on a Tuesday night, one that already had you splayed out on the bed and ready, but you almost closed your legs on your hand in shock at the sight of it. You knew that cup, the one you bought for his birthday, the one you’d fought tooth and nail to find after he said he was a Josh Groban fan and you found out he wasn’t touring anymore for some broadway show. It looked you in the eye and taunted you, so much you could barely focus on the way his lovely chin just barely dipped into frame.
You knew that chin well, sharp and triangular and perfect. It looks the same as when he lifts up his mask just so when you're on a mission. You'd dreamed of kissing that chin when you saw a black and teal bit of fabric pull up to reveal pink lips that would occasionally sip a boba tea or a slurpee from the local bodega as he walked in late to headquarters. Those lips attached to that chin, those lips that you wanted all over you with or without the mask.
To say you were shocked was an understatement, and to say you were so turned on by your own guilt at continuing to look would be putting it lightly. You came harder than you ever have before that night. It was like an addiction now, watching Adrian Chase wrap the same hand that holds open doors for you, wrap around his hard cock and stroke himself until he comes, sometimes his release even splashing onto the mirror and absolutely driving you wild.
Now that you recognize that chin, you start to recognize the rest of him. How could you not? You'd personally patched up that toned chest before, remembering how Adrian just smiled and blushed while you nervously put your hands on him. Being up close to him without all of his gear was daunting, your nerves in overdrive, even if you kinda have a thing for the uniform too. Ever time you patch up Adrian you find yourself walking away from the encounter flushed and giddy like some school girl with a crush.
It started with that video, where you relaxed again after your initial shock at the revelation. You slipped your hand back in between your thighs, middle finger coming to circle around your clit every once in a while dipping a finger inside yourself before going back to your clit, watching the video on a loop. You tried your best to time your movements to match the movement of his hand on himself, almost like you were doing this together. It was tributed to another user, someone who had posted a nude for this specific response, but you're creative, you can imagine that it's dedicated to you, the three minute video that you can pretend and say he is doing this thinking of you.
You imagine yourself kneeling in front of him, mouth open and ready as you watch him, touching yourself and just waiting for the finale, wanting to taste him on your tongue. Would he be just as vocal in person? Or is this all an act for the internet? You hope he's vocal, you think, as you lose rhythm and speed up your own pace. You press your fingers down a little harder as you speed up, letting his moans be the soundtrack to your own imagination kicking into high gear.
Just as you're about to bring yourself over the edge with your fingers, your pinky and thumb precariously holding your phone slip, and that little heart under the tweet turns red.
Shit, shit shit shit. Fuck. You quickly pull your hand up and unlike the tweet as quickly as you'd liked it, and now your orgasm is ruined.
You panic. You hope it was quick enough that he didn't see the notification from your account. That's how the dummy account was created. Now, with a picture of your cleavage and a fake name, you can like any of these videos you want, and even comment under them if you're tipsy or feeling brave.
You think nothing of it anymore. That was three weeks ago.
“Hey, Y/n, take a look at this!”
You don't even have a moment of clarity to understand what's happening before Adrian’s phone is being shoved in front of your face a little too closely.
“I got Eagly to hug me! And Harcourt got it on camera!”
He’s practically bouncing on the soles of his boots as your hands brush his gloved ones to grab the phone from him.
Sure enough, the eagle’s wings are draped around Adrian’s shoulders, his face turned away from the predators beak, but beaming.
“Don’t scroll,” Adrian says, in a tone that makes you think he doesn’t actually care but he knows it’s what people say when they’re presented with someone’s camera roll. You don’t need to, though. The bottom of the screen shows those tiny little previews of what else is previously taken, and you can see a thumbnail that looks identical to the video he posted last night that had you moaning into your pillow and gasping for breath. If he notices your eyes flicker down the the little previews, he doesn’t say anything.
“How long did that take?” you ask, carefully handing the phone back to him so that there are no accidental swipes.
“Only about two hours, and three bags of doritos,” he responds, clearly bubbling with pride.
He sits down next to you on the piano bench like everything is normal. You've all but convinced yourself he didn't see a notification from your account on his secret twitter and everything is fine.
But it's not for you, those videos are not for you, and neither is Adrian's presence. Ever since you spotted the coffee mug and his chin, it's like when Neo took the pill in the Matrix. You now know the truth, you know everything that lies underneath that uniform and it's like you can't turn it off. You find yourself little sweatier, a little more on edge now when he invades your personal space; Something you once craved, and now you dread, imagining he can see “I GET OFF ON YOU” written on your forehead in sharpie or something.
You notice he closes out of his camera roll quickly, and as he plays one of those matching games with those horrible ads, you can’t help but be distracted by the constant banner notifications going wild that he keeps having to swipe away. He focuses on his screen while Harcourt and Adebayo explain how things will proceed, not missing a beat answering questions when they’re lobbed his way, but you can’t focus on anything but the notifications you saw that couldn’t be from anything but his other twitter.
“Dude, what if she’s possessed?” you hear Chris say, and your realize they’re talking about you.
“If I was possessed I’d attack you first,” you shoot back at Chris, hoping and praying you’d draw the attention anywhere but where your mind was.
Luckily, Adrian starts cracking up.
“She totally would dude, she says you aggravate her! Not that she would win even if she was possessed, I mean, your biceps alone…”
You tune out again now that the attention is off of you. Saved by the Vigilante.
After a while things die down again, and you all agree to where and when you'll meet up tomorrow for reconnaissance.
Before you leave you stop by John’s desk.
“Hey, how's my watch coming?” You ask, kicking one of your boots against the steel leg of the table.
“Finished it this morning, actually,” he says, rooting in his drawer until he finds it, “I actually tweaked it so that it can call each of us quicker. Its jailbroken so you wont get a warranty or anything but… it works for what we need. Thanks for being a guinea pig.”
He hands you your apple watch, with your shitty fake Burberry watch strap, a much missed accessory on your left wrist.
You strap it back onto your wrist, making sure it’s just the right amount of tightness and back in its normal place before you push your sweatshirt sleeve back down over it.
“No, thank you! Really, I’ve been looking to make this thing more useful than closing my rings back in Gotham,” You shoot him a grateful smile, tapping the screen until it flashes back to life, the picture of all of you after the bottling factory incident permanently set as your background now.
“Yeah no problem,” he says, and then adds, “By the way, you have a lot of twitter notifications.”
Oh shit.
You thank him three more times before you finally say goodbye to everyone and leave, and its not until you get into your car that you check the notifications on your watch. Luckily, it was just a bunch of notifications that said ‘notifications’ and then just the twitter symbol. Economos didn't see anything.
You didn't have to open any of the notifications to know that they were alerts that the @mattvtweets account had made yet another post. It was basically your kryptonite at this point, the way that you had his alerts on and would save every video in your likes. Your dummy account isn't private, which means that if you were to respond to his videos, he could see it. Which, you've definitely debated doing before. It wouldn't be weird for that account for you to tweet something thirsty at him that would then result in him posting a video specifically for you. Not that he would know it was you, but it was you. Maybe if you were lucky he’d moan your fake twitter name and you'd know it was all for you.
But time and time again, you'd typed out a thirsty ass message, stared at it for a few seconds, and then promptly deleted it. For some reason, you couldn't stand to be just another girl in his replies begging for attention. Beyond that, you’d have an even harder time looking him in the eye than you already do. It’s bad enough the liked tweets of this dummy account are literally every video he’s posted and absolutely nothing else. Maybe one day you'll be brave- or desperate- enough to ask for a tribute, or to send him a nude. You'd thought of subscribing to his onlyfans, but it was no different content, and your google email popped up as the first one to join which freaked you out. You know Adrian knows your email address, and that was just a little too risky. Well, it felt a little riskier than what you were already doing. That's bold, maybe stupid, but you've never considered yourself the most creative.
Your drive home is usually taken in relative peace, eight stop lights and exactly three turns between headquarters and your apartment, and you can usually get about two or three songs in depending on how many red lights you hit.
You reach the fifth stoplight nodding your head along to the radio when another notification pops up on your watch. Refusing to touch your watch, you drive home with a little bit more fire under your ass.
You’d never had a team back in Gotham, never had people who you could count on or people you would consider close. Associates, yes, but never people you'd meet up with after a job or text or send memes back and forth to, even if some of them have an incomprehensible concept of what a meme is. Adrian has to be your favorite of them, which makes this whole situation just a little more fucked up. You'd hate to break this trust; you know this is a boundary crossed, but this is something he’s never going to find out about. There's nothing that could actually trace the account back to you, you constantly reassure yourself. He can be your best friend and your secret fantasy and no one ever has to know.
You convince yourself of this in the rest of the time it takes to get from that stoplight to the living room of your home. A condo that was once temporary housing now turned much more permanent, the decor miss matched and weird, but all little memories of your jobs with your new friends and new life here.
You love your condo, and the life you're building here, and even the shitty frozen dinners you make here every night.
It’s not until you get to change into pajamas and finally lay down for the evening that you get to check those notifications.
Your stomach drops when you see the newest notification, the one that was posted a few hours ago when you were in the car.
@mattvtweets: Thinking of a certain coworker, should I tell her this one’s for her?
This video is not like the others, with his hand running over his chest, his abs, the scar on his side where you weren’t careful enough with your stitching one time before finally grasping himself. He’s got his bare leg propped up on the edge of his coffee table and his muscular pale thighs on display with his curly brunette leg hair covering them. Adrian’s really putting himself on display for this coworker, whoever she is.
God, I hope it’s me, you think as you shimmy yourself into the pile of blankets you threw on top of your bed this morning. You don't miss the way the motion pushes your shorts even farther up your thighs, your free hand running up and down your soft skin, similar to the way Adrian is touching himself in the video.
Adrian in the video keeps running his hands up and down his body, almost teasing himself, almost like he's doing what he wants someone to do to him.
God, what you wouldn't give to be the one running your hands along his body, getting to feel his muscles flex under your finger tips and getting to brush along the soft hair on his thighs and lower abdomen.
You start to copy his motions, warming your own body as you follow his movement, pushing your shirt up to run across your chest and grab at yourself the same way he’s doing to himself.
You scroll down slightly to like the video, saving this one so that you could keep coming back to it, specifically for that caption.
All of the comments below don't help your little fantasy, either
@user03114: She's so lucky!
@daynaxx: get her to make a vid with u luv xx
@angelbby28x: can i work with you?
It's the comment about making a video with you that fuels your fire. Shit, you think, the things you'd do with him. You've never really been the type to take or send nudes, but if Adrian ever asked you to make one of these videos with you, you'd practically jump at the chance. To be sent these videos directly, to send videos to him.
You slip your free hand below the waistband at the thought of touching yourself on camera for Adrian, of letting him bare you to the masses. Maybe he’d even talk a little dirty; fuck, you’re sure you’d even get hot and bothered by his rambling if he just looked at you the right way. Your middle finger slips through your folds at the thought of him touching you on camera. Would he tease you? Would he keep going until you passed out? Would he be gentle? Rough?
I’ll take anything he’d give me, you think, pressing your fingers farther until you brush over your clit and finally making yourself gasp.
You scroll back up to the video and start to move, circular motions with your middle and ring finger over your clit, your legs spread wide and hips slightly tilted just to hit that perfect angle.
When Adrian in the video finally wraps his hand around his cock, you finally dip your fingers inside yourself, slowly thrusting in time with how he strokes himself. He strokes his length, a good seven inches and curved slightly upward from what you can tell on the phone screen, from base to tip painfully slowly; this is a real performance he’s putting on, really showing off himself and giving you so much to work with. Its not like you need much though, fingers fucking yourself with barely any resistance. It's almost embarrassing how wet you can get over a twitter video, but it's more the little hints of the man behind them. Even before you found the account he’d left you flustered by simple gestures.
You're able to work yourself up to that peak quickly, only having to loop the five minute video twice before your breath is hitching and you're moaning his name quietly into the cold air of your bedroom. It's the way you can see the smallest bit of his jawline at the top of the screen, you can see the way it clenches and bites back his own moans.
You move your fingers faster as you imagine Adrian above you, clenching his jaw just like that, as he fucks into you, filling you and making you all his. Adrian’s rough hands manhandling you, grabbing and groping you, holding you down as he-
Your phone vibrating from a phone call shocks you out of your near-bliss. Fuck fuck shit fuck shit, you think as you drop the phone onto the bed next to you, the video of Adrian still playing on the screen. Your hand practically tears itself away from you and recoils back out of your shorts so quickly it's as if you'd been burned. As you gasp for air to regain your composure you look at the screen.
Adrian’s calling.
Before you can really think about it, you're picking up his call and throwing it on speaker out of habit.
“Uh, Hello?”
“Hey, favorite coworker!" He greets you, not best friend, but favorite coworker works. Favorite coworker could be the subject of that tweet, "I was just- Wait, did I interrupt a workout?”
You pause.
“No?”
Adrian sighs on the other end.
“Well why didn't you tell me you had asthma, silly? I would carry an inhaler with me if you had just told me, not to mention how out of breath you sound and-”
“Adrian, no,” you interrupt him, “What's up? What did you want to call me about?”
He stops, and you can practically hear him pondering on the other end.
“Oh! Right, I just got done patrols on your side of town. I was wondering if I could come over since Fargo is on tonight and we always debrief after the episode.”
Suddenly you become all too aware of your situation. You're sprawled out on your bed, fingers still soaked in yourself because of the man on the other end of the call, your tiny bedroom feeling all too spacious. And Adrian is asking to enter this space and be alone with you.
“Uhhh, maybe that's not the best idea, Adrian,” you say, knowing you wont be able to keep your cool.
But then guilt starts to creep in like a tingle along your scalp, because Adrian doesn't answer that.
“My house is really messy!” you offer, hoping that’ll smooth things over.
Adrian stays quiet again for a moment, and then starts laughing a little too hard.
“You could have just said that, silly!” he scoffs, and you can picture his face a little too close to the speaker, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah?” you ask.
“Yeah, you can clean tomorrow,” he suggests, before adding, “I’ll bring you back to my place! I’m parked outside of your house anyway, you can just get in the Vigilante-Mobile.”
He punctuates his offer by honking his horn, confirming he is indeed right outside of your condo, and he’s not going to back down on Fargo night.
“O-Okay, sure,” you stutter out, “just let me make myself decent.”
“Of course, because if we got pulled over you could get an indecent exposure charge. Not that I would mind about indecency.”
“Thank you. Adrian.” you grit out, head spinning for a reason caught somewhere between your ruined orgasm and the way he so plainly flirts without boundaries.
He hangs up then, and honks his horn again once. Groaning, you pull yourself from your position on the bed to get up and splash some cold water on your face.
The Unfortunate Demise of Edward Nashton(’s Love Life)
pair: edward nashton x gn!reader
summary: The Batman saves you, but he isn't there when it counts.
warnings: you die :(
i was feeling nostalgic about the gotham scene with kristen kringle and needed to do it with dano riddler hehe
boost this or i delete the burt fabelman smut i'm halfway through
There was barely any light in the entire apartment, not any that Bruce could see. The officers and other employees of the GCPD spilled into the room with flashlights and curious looks on their faces. Falcone had just been murdered in cold blood right in front of them and for all they knew, they were in the same room as the infamous serial killer that had been terrorizing the city.
He let himself go slowly through the room, making sure that his contacts had a clear picture of everything before he moved on. Gordon followed close behind him.
Martinez held his gun up as he kicked open the door to what looked like a bedroom. He called out to Gordon and Bruce followed suit. In an unmade king-sized bed, you lay half-covered under the sheets. Your eyes were closed and one arm was draped around your stomach while the other lay still next to your body. He held the weapon in your direction and inched closer.
Bruce’s boots made the old floorboards creak with every step he took. The cops behind him held their guns in defense as he knelt down to see you at eye level. Your eyes were closed and you were indubitably still. He raised a gloved hand to your neck, pushing your hair out of the way to reveal deep purple bruises all over.
Hesitantly, he brought two fingers to the pulse site. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt nothing. No pulse. No heartbeat.
“There’s no pulse. They’re dead,” He said, loud enough for others to hear even though it felt like he was whispering. A medical examiner stepped in to do a more thorough exam, leaving him quiet.
~~~
You wished that your schedule would align with Edward’s more than once every few weeks. He was stuck to his usual 9 to 5 days while your boss loved to stick you with the overnight shifts. You would always get home and cuddle up to him in bed only for his alarm to go off minutes later. Even when you happened to get a shift similar to his, he would be far too occupied with his riddler business to spend quality time with you.
That lack of time didn’t make you love him any less. He was only doing what he did for the better of the city, and you were sure of it. Once this was all over, you’d have him all to yourself and Gotham would be at least a little better. You knew that he felt the same. Or hoped.
Tonight was one of those special nights for you. It was 9 at night and you were packing your things after a twelve-hour shift. Usually, you would just be settling in at this time. You said your goodbyes to your co-workers, zipped up your jacket, and put on your winter hat to face the surprisingly cold nights in early fall.
The hospital wasn’t far from your apartment, but that didn't make walking back any less scary. Gotham was, well, Gotham, after all. A twinge of fear grew in your stomach with each step you took away from the bright lights of the hospital and into the dim streetlamps of the small street.
The street was eerily quiet. Usually, there would at least be a car alarm going off or maybe a couple arguing with the windows open. You could only hear your own footsteps. That is until you heard another pair.
“Put your hands in the air and turn around,” The gruff voice suddenly said. You could only assume that it was directed toward you. With a deep breath, you lifted your hands and turned to face the man. He didn’t bother to cover his face, so you tried to focus on his features just in case anything truly bad happened. That’s what you’ve been told to do, at least.
The most noticeable thing was the gun pointed directly at you. The safety was off. You looked into his eyes, “My wallet’s in my backpack. If that’s what you’re looking for. Nobody has to get hurt.” Your bargaining skills weren’t entirely up to par and mainly were stolen from movies you’ve seen.
The man smirked, “Kick it over. Slowly.”
Carefully, you lowered your hands and shrugged the bag from your shoulders, maintaining eye contact the entire time. You placed it on the ground and used your foot to roll it over to where he stood.
He leaned down to pick the bag up, then a large black flash appeared and knocked him to the ground. The man tried to fight back, but the figure in black fought harder. Nervous, you picked your bag up and returned it to your shoulders.
With a closer look, you saw that the figure was Batman. You couldn’t wait to see Edward's reaction once he hears about your encounter. The man stopped moving, but his chest was clearly inflating and deflating as he breathed.
The Bat turned to you and you stood up straighter, “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Not this late.”
You shrugged, “The walk to my apartment isn’t that far. Usually, it’s pretty safe.”
His cape fluttered behind him as he walked closer to you, “Would you like an escort?”
As much as you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already were, it would be a cool story to tell the next time you went in for work. Edward would be glad that you finally met the man he’s working with to save the city. You nodded.
Batman wasn’t a talker. You tried to match that energy and keep quiet while you walked side-by-side in the few blocks to your apartment.
His eyes locked on the Iceberg Lounge just across from where you stopped. Perhaps he knew about all of the secrets the building held, too, “Thank you, by the way.”
He didn’t reply, instead, he gave you a quaint nod. He only left when he saw you go through the doors of your building and walk far enough inside to be safe.
Edward was waiting for you once you reached your apartment. You dropped your bag by the door and pulled him into a kiss. His gloves were on, which was usually only for his livestreams. Maybe he had just finished.
“You were with him,” It was less of a question than it was a statement. Or better yet, an accusation.
You raised a brow, then nodded, “You wouldn’t believe it. I almost got mugged and then he just showed up and took care of the thief! He offered to walk me home.”
He was quiet as you began to take off your coat and hat and put them in the hall closet, “He’s very kind, no wonder he’s working with you.”
“Did he feel good?” He asked with a hint of accusation in his voice.
You looked back at him, “What does that mean?”
“Did he feel good when he fucked you?”
For a moment, you wondered if he was joking. Never in your entire relationship had you given him the chance to doubt your loyalty to him, “We didn’t do anything! He walked me home.”
You felt your body slam against the wall before you could even process what was happening. The leather of his gloves felt warm as they wrapped around your neck, pressing just enough for you to be uneasy, “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
He was never one to use his strength, but you were feeling his pent-up anger from everyone that's ever wronged him at once. It quickly became harder to breathe and you reached up to pry his hands off of you, “Ed…I love you.”
Your vision spotted the more that you struggled against him. You were no longer able to plead for your life against him, not that it would be of use. He seemed to have fully made up his mind about your infidelity.
Edward felt your strength disappear and you slowly slid down to the floor against the wall. He loosened his grip and knelt down to face you. Your eyes were still, lifeless. It was then that he realized what he had done.
His hands shook, the same ones that took your life. He pulled you close to him and began to wail when your body fell into him like a ragdoll. The love of his life was gone.
warnings: this is porn. straight up. (MINORS DNI). p in v sex. age gap.
final part!
Sitting alone on Edward’s bed made the ever-familiar feeling of dread sink into your stomach. Were you doing the right thing? The sun was barely above the horizon and you basically drove across the city for sex with your former professor-turned-boss. You fell backward onto the bed and heard it squeak slightly. You wiped your face with your hands, “God.”
Looking down at your pajama pants, Garfield and Odie stared back at you. You weren’t sure if they were shameful looks or, what you were hoping, their eyes were telling you not to look back and stop regretting your choices. But they didn’t have a conscious and you weren’t going to chicken out of this. You’ve waited far too long to get anxious about it now.
The espresso machine in the kitchen could be heard. You pulled the pajama pants off and threw them in the corner of the room. The floor creaked in the other room and your hope was that Edward was actually making his way toward the bedroom. Were you just supposed to sit here and wait? Or go out and get him?
Minutes passed and you weren’t sure if the way you were getting worked up was anger or arousal. The sound of the doorknob turning made you perk up, sitting straight. Standing in the doorway, Edward took a sip from his coffee cup. He looked at you with raised brows.
“Morning,” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and uncrossed your legs. You smiled at him with doe eyes, or at least, the best imitation of them that you possibly could.
He placed his cup on the dresser next to him and walked up to you, looping his arms around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. His lips hungrily met yours, “I can’t wait another second.” He sucked on your bottom lip and his hand traveled to rub your pussy over your panties.
You could already feel your body temperature rising as each second passed by. Just feeling him and being close to him was enough to turn you on. This is what you’ve been dreaming about for months. “Eddie,” You moaned his name.
“Tell me what you need, Y/n.”
“I need you to fuck me. I don’t care if it’s your fingers, your mouth, or your cock. I need something,” You tugged at the edge of his shirt and he pulled it off, throwing it in the pile where your pants were discarded.
He fell to his knees and pulled your panties off. He rested his cheek on your inner thigh and softly rubbed your clit and gathered some of your wetness on his finger. He placed the same finger on his tongue before starting to eat you out.
It felt almost nostalgic, like the first time you ever made your relationship with him officially more than “unusually close student and teacher” to a situationship. He still knew how to get you going, and where exactly he needed to be to make you squirm.
His tongue darted inside of you and your self-control flew out the window when he began to rub your clit with his free hand. The other hand softly rubbed circles in your thigh and held it still. Maybe it was your frustration and lack of decent sex in a while, or Edward really knew what he was doing, but you found yourself on the edge of your climax soon after he started.
Edward seemed to notice, too. His eyes looked up at you, “You can come whenever you want, baby.”
His eyes never left yours as you let yourself go, allowing your orgasm to ripple through you. Edward smiled up at you, his lips glistening with your cum. He stood up and let his pants fall to the ground, stepping out of them.
You pushed yourself back a little on the bed to make room for him. He placed a hand by your side and climbed over you, hovering a few inches above. His cock prodded at your entrance, allowing the wetness to act as a lubrication as it mixed with the beads of precum at his tip.
“Go ahead,” You noticed the way his eyes stared at you, asking permission without genuinely saying it. You knew his size, but it felt immensely bigger once it was inside you and stretching your walls until he bottomed out. Your moan was caught in his mouth along with his own as you began to kiss again.
He was still, allowing you to adjust to him before he started to fuck you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and gently dragged your nails against the sides of his stomach. He shivered, leaning on you. He slowly began to move before speeding up and letting himself relish inside of you.
His hand ran through your hair before grabbing onto a chunk and pulling slightly, earning a moan from you, “Fuck, you’re so wet. How many times have you thought about me fucking you?”
You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath, “Nearly every damn day.”
After a moment, he pulled out and easily flipped you over to your stomach. You were leaning half off of the bed and he stood, fucking you into the mattress. You gripped the sheets of the bed as he thrust, each time hitting your G spot.
As you were getting near to another orgasm, you could feel Edward getting faster and much less coordinated. He was getting close as well.
A final thrust sent you into seeing stars and you came. Inside of you, Edward could feel your pussy squeezing onto him and pulling him in further. He only lasted a few more seconds before he pulled out and you felt his release on your lower back.
Edward panted, “That was incredible. I’ll, uh, get you a towel.”
~~
Your phone’s alarm went off at the normal time: 10. Barely opening your eyes, you turned it off and tossed your phone on the side table. Only, you didn’t have a side table and the device landed on the rug next to the bed. It was then that you remembered you weren’t in your bed, fully nude with an arm wrapped around your waist and holding you.
You relaxed into him, letting the rush of memories from a few hours ago spill into your mind. It felt like an eternity, but that might’ve just been because you fell asleep. Your schedule was definitely thrown off, but you didn’t mind much.
Edward stirred and as you turned to face him, he was awake and staring at you with tired eyes and a soft smile, “Do you want breakfast?”
“Only if you put some pants on,” You forced yourself to keep your eyes on his and not to stray below the waist. That would only lead to you getting no breakfast and another round. You were hungry.
He poured a pancake mix onto a pan while you watched. He wore only his pajama pants while you sat on the counter with one of his shirts and your panties. The sun was shining into the apartment, which was surprising for this part of Gotham. Or in reality, any part of Gotham. The pigeons were loud as they flew near the windows.
“What are we gonna do if they ask me to TA in the fall? Just say I don’t have the time in my schedule? I mean, I probably won't anyway if I get one of the accounting internships I’ve been interviewing for. You’d be in the clear,” You rambled. You took a sip from the cup of water in your hands.
He turned around and bit his lip slightly, “You won’t have to worry about any of that. You won’t be my TA anymore.”
You smirked, “Found somebody else? Someone younger?” You pretended to pout over it and shook your head.
“I resigned,” He took his spatula and focused his attention back on the pancakes.
You dropped your act and your jaw dropped slightly, “What?” There was no way that he did this for you, could there be? Guilt crept into your stomach. He was tenured and from what you heard, professors at Gotham State made a pretty decent salary, “This isn’t because of us, is it?”
He slid the plate of pancakes towards you and leaned on the counter, “KTMJ offered me a position in their firm. It pays more and has better benefits. Plus, you won’t get in trouble with the university. A win-win.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” You began to eat. Besides the shock of his confession, your mind was very occupied with wanting to eat.
He nodded, “Absolutely. I was only teaching because they gave me the job straight out of graduation. It’s not as if I was well-liked by my students, anyway.” You looked up from your plate, “With an exception.”
You nodded, quietly eating and thinking about what he had just said.
“Hey,” he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, “Don’t think for a second that I've regretted anything between us.”
warnings: smut (series) (MINORS DNI); nothing explicit in this part
Between the piles of work given to you by each of your professors and the piles of work that Edward had given to his students, you were finally realizing exactly why everyone called this period “hell week”. You’ve barely slept and whenever you had the opportunity to eat a somewhat decent meal, you were multitasking while doing it.
The only break you got, mentally, was during Edward’s class. You didn’t have to do much, other than click to move the slide in his lesson, and it gave you ample time to plan different ways to mess with him.
Today, though, you wore a big sweater and corduroy pants to combat what you hoped was the last snow of the season. Not as promiscuous as your usual outfit, but you weren’t going to freeze just to make him a little nervous. It was May and you were sure that this kind of weather should’ve stopped by now.
During the class, you worked on your final spreadsheet for one of your other classes and kept an ear out for whenever Edward got to the end of the slide he was talking about. This was the last class session of the semester, and your attention needed to be split in order to get everything done. It’s not like the students cared that much if you weren’t excitedly nodding at every bullet point he went over. Most of them were in the same situation as you.
You barely noticed when Edward dismissed the class if it weren’t for the cheers by the students knowing that they’ll never have to deal with him again in their lives. You were the only one brave (or dumb) enough to stick around with him. A few of the students came to thank you for your tutoring over the semester and offer their social media.
Once they all filtered out, the two of you were left. No more papers to grade or classes to sit through. Just you and him. Mutual adults that happened to find each other attractive. You had no more classes for the day and you were more than happy to go back to your small apartment and get some sleep in before finishing up the last of your work.
His things were already packed as he waited for you, “The subway’s always congested on days like this. Nobody wants to get a little snow on them.”
“Funny. It’s the opposite for the regular streets. Nobody wants to risk driving,” You picked up your bag and threw it over your shoulder. You paused, “Actually, do you want a ride to your apartment?”
He took a deep breath and thought for a moment, “That…would be nice. I’m not great with cars, though.”
“Relax, I’m a fantastic driver,” You jingled your keys in front of him and started to walk out of the classroom. You were glad that you never had to step foot into the room again, that is if you aren’t offered the position again. You were still on the fence about accepting even if it was given to you.
The both of you walking together to your car didn’t look as suspicious as you originally thought it would. After all, you were more co-workers than you were professor and student. The only jarring thing was the age gap of…ten years maybe? Give or take a few.
You unceremoniously threw all of the empty water bottles and receipts from the passenger seat to the back before Edward opened the door. You weren’t a dirty person, but definitely a disorganized one. He would faint if he ever saw the state of your room. You were sure everything that he owned was organized with some filing system or something. He seemed like the type.
You turned on the radio and lowered the volume, not like there were any good songs on anyway, just to not have silence. You weren’t lying when you said that you were a good driver, but your nerves made you extra careful about everything that was already second nature to you.
Edward was quiet for the entire ride, other than giving you directions to his place. Quite the opposite of his normal attitude of talking your ear off whether you like it or not. What was he nervous about? He was the passenger!
As you pulled up to the curb in front of his building, he clutched his bag and turned to face you, “If you’re not doing anything, you’re more than welcome to come up. I mean, the class is over now.”
You caught your breath. He was finally ready. Even three days before his original two-week promise. The grip you had on the wheel tightened, turning your knuckles white. Maybe an orgasm or two would help with your stress level?
“I have so much work right now,” You couldn’t believe the angel on your shoulder actually took the reigns. All you’ve wanted for months is to get royally fucked by the man in front of you and he was literally asking you to come up to his apartment. Yet you deny him, “I’m sorry, you don’t know how much I want to.”
He smiled, but you could see a dash of disappointment in his eyes, “It’s okay, honey. We’ll keep our date. Friday, last day of the semester.” He got out of the car and held onto the door for a moment, looking at you. You smiled back, your inner voice screaming at you to tell him that you actually don’t care about the work you have to do and would much rather go with him.
You watched him enter his building and sat in your car for a minute. All that messing with him seemed to work, on the bright side, he was more than willing to get down with you before his strict two-week rule. You noticed a sticky note that had his apartment number left on the passenger seat. That was one small thing to smile about.
Once you reached your pillow in your apartment, you promptly passed out.
~~
Upon waking up and being fully rested, even if it was around 2 in the morning, the weight of your decisions finally sunk in. You were here, in your bed, when you could have been in Edward’s. You groaned and rolled out from the bed and into your living room. There was only one big project you had to do before Friday and you had already done the bulk of it, thankfully.
Edward had no space in your mind. Only numbers. Equations. Accounts. The hours working on this project melted your brain, but by the ripe time of 6 in the morning, you were finished. All you had to do was show up to class and hand it in to your professor. You were done, at least for now.
Your class, unfortunately, wasn’t until Friday. Today was Wednesday. You had nothing to do and you knew that someone else was in the same situation: Edward.
Only wearing pajama pants with Garfield and Odie printed all over and a big t-shirt that you got from orientation, your mind was set. You grabbed your keys and ran down to your car. Somehow, you still knew how to get to his apartment even though you’d only done it once. You weren’t exactly thinking with your brain.
Once parked, you took the note and headed into the building. You tried the elevator, broken. Though a bit disappointing, you were not going to let a few flights of stairs stop you from getting the night, or morning in this case, that you’ve been waiting months for.
You looked at every door until you found the right number and banged on it. Maybe it was a little uncouth of you to be a nuisance to him and his neighbors, but they just had to understand how desperate you really were.
A different door opened and a man in a suit walked out. He looked at you with a raised brow and continued to the stairwell. You were well aware that you were far from dressing to the nines.
After a moment, Edward opened the door. He rubbed his eyes. He was still in what he slept in, “Y/n? It’s six-thirty.”
You rolled your eyes, “I’m aware.” You pushed through the door, “And I’m more than ready to take you up on the offer from yesterday.”
Edward looked you up and down, smirking at the pants, “I thought I was the desperate one here. The bedroom’s down the hall.”
While you were grateful to have a job and in turn, an actual disposable income for one in a long time, you were getting increasingly frustrated with Edward. He continued to act as if nothing happened between the two of you. You slightly admired his professionalism, but that didn’t mean that you were happy with his lack of blowing your back out.
Being a TA was quite fun. The students actually came to you and constantly asked questions or scheduled tutoring sessions. Of course, you were eons more approachable than Edward, so that was expected. Grades were improving. That’s all that mattered in the long run.
You sat on your friend’s bed while she mixed a cup of chai, “I’m in a difficult situation with this whole TA shit.”
“How?” She leaned on the bed and sipped from her mug.
You bit your lip, “Professor and I may have, um,”
Her eyes widened, “No way. You guys fucked?”
“In certain terms, yes. Only oral!”
She started to laugh, “Is that why you spent so much time in his office last semester?”
You shook your head, “It didn’t start until winter break. It’s over now, or that’s what he tells me. I’m in way too deep to just stop. ”
It was weird to finally tell someone about it. It’s not like you could tell your parents or anyone of authority at the school. Not if you wanted to stay.
There were two weeks left of the semester and the two of you sat together in comfortable silence during office hours grading papers. You sighed, looking up at him, “Would it really be that bad if we just kept it a secret?”
He deadpanned, “Yes.”
You nearly dropped the paper you were grading, “Why?”
There was no response. He continued grading the paper in his hands as you stared, waiting for an answer you knew wasn’t coming.
You repeated your question. He snapped his head up to look at you, annoyed, “Let’s say I throw this paper on the ground, clear my desk, and fuck you right here and now. What then? Two weeks of the memory lingering in our minds and absolutely nothing coming out of it.”
You perked up at the idea. He wasn’t being serious, of course. It was silly to think anything other than that. You tried not to look devastated, in an attempt to not look like a sad puppy, but you weren’t the best actor.
He sighed, “Two weeks. Once the semester is over. You’ll come to my apartment and we can do whatever you please. How does that sound?”
After a moment of contemplation, you nodded. You’ve already waited this long, what’s another two weeks? You were sure that it would all be worth it. The day you finally go all the way with Edward. Technically, at that point, neither of you had any professional relations with the other. At least until the fall.
He smiled, “Great. Now, Can we get to finishing these papers?”
The small setback didn’t foil your plan. In fact, you altered it slightly to make sure that he was desperate for you just as much as you are for him. You had two weeks to tease him and neither of you could do anything about it.
Before the next class, you meticulously picked out the most school-appropriate, yet promiscuous outfit you had in your closet. You walked into the lecture hall with a rather large coat that covered your real outfit and started talking to some of the students while you all waited for the class to start. Just as he started talking, you waved your hand in front of your face to try and get a cool breeze on yourself before shaking the coat off and setting it on a chair.
“Do you mind opening the PowerPoint? It’s in the,” He turned to you and paused. Your inner self was performing backflips of excitement in the brief moment of silence that came from the man, a rare occurrence. He always had something to say. He shifted the way that he was standing.
You smirked, tilting your head in confusion, “In the what, sir?”
He coughed and looked at the projection of your computer screen, “Modules section.” You smiled and did as he said, opening the PowerPoint on accounts payable and receivable. You leaned back in your chair and listened as he continued on with his lesson.
This particular lesson was one you remembered vividly, well almost. You fell asleep for half of the class and had a very realistic dream that you were a little too disappointed upon realizing that it was only in your subconscious. The office hour session after that was a little awkward for you. He was none the wiser, as per usual.
It was hard to stay awake even now. Going over more of the basic accounting principles could put any advanced accounting student to sleep. You noticed a few students in the back dozing off, hopefully not having the same experience that you had when you were a student.
It felt like the end of the lesson was never going to come. Once he said his usual schtick of “ Class dismissed, enjoy your day ” the room emptied almost immediately. He turned to you and shook his head, “Whatever your plan is, it’s not going to work.”
“What plan?” You swiveled your chair and gave him a dumb smile. You weren’t going to admit anything to him before he did to you. You still had your pride.
“Two weeks, honey. I’m not budging on that,” He began to pack his things into his bag. You tried to not let the sudden nickname from melting your heart and destroying your place on the high ground against him.
You stood up and carried your laptop close to your chest. The device acted as a push-up bra. “Have a lovely day, professor.” You turned on your heel and started for the door. He may not show it, but you were getting to him. Slowly chipping away at his external toughness.
A student ran through the door and into one of the rows, picking up a winter hat and grinning while looking at it. He looked at you and held the item of clothing up, “Left this here. Glad I remembered before they cleaned everything up.”
You laughed, “I’m sure you had plenty of time, they never clean in this room.”
He shrugged, “You’re probably right.” He put his hat on, letting a little bit of his hair stick out in the front to emulate some sort of bangs, “Where are you headed to? I’m going to the dining hall with a few other people from the class.”
“I have corporate finance in fifteen minutes. It's four hours,” You wondered if you were being a little delusional and full of yourself or if he had actually asked you out. How inappropriate! You were basically his boss as a TA. You are aware of the irony.
He pursed his lips, “Well if you’re ever free, you’re more than welcome to hang out with us. Either in the dining halls or our dorms, we can sign you in.”
“I appreciate it, Cooper” You walked with him out of the room and split off once outside of the building. He was a nice enough student and did fairly well in the class, but you only had one man on your mind. And that man, though neither you nor the student could see, was fuming.
Edward watched the interaction until it left the classroom. How he was so obviously hitting on you right in front of him and you were seemingly flirting back. In the back of his mind, he was well aware that you were only doing it to make him jealous, but that didn’t stop him from bouncing his leg in frustration as he watched.
He took his things and quickly made his way to the campus subway station. Today, he decided to forego listening to music and enjoyed a silent ride back to his apartment. He wanted his mind to consist of one thing without distractions: you.
He was more surprised that there was no rain once he exited the underground station. If the city was known for one thing, it was the constant rain. He passed the diner and then the nightclub, finally making it to his apartment building. There was no doorman, he didn’t have enough income to live in a doorman-protected building.
The elevator was still broken, so he braced himself for the few flights of stairs he had to walk up every day for the past two weeks. It almost made him no longer want to leave his home. Too much work.
Entering his apartment, he sighed upon seeing that it was left the same as it was when he left it this morning. He definitely needs a cleaning day, but that was not today. He took out leftover Chinese takeout and popped it in the microwave.
He really should be watching what he eats, just as a general health practice. Maybe he’d start cooking more. His thoughts of cooking shattered when his meal, though not as good as it was the day before, was hot and ready in mere minutes.
Edward couldn’t be bothered to look at any papers that he’d neglected, that seemed like a you job. Speaking of, his mind was still filled with the image of you today. How could you try to jeopardize his job by distracting him right in front of the students? And then, going ahead and flirting with said students? He didn’t understand your motives.
The only thing he was well aware of was the painfully arousing feeling he got whenever he thought of that outfit. Oh, how many times he considered breaking all etiquette and ripping it off of you. Maybe he had been too harsh with the two-week rule? Could the two of you keep everything a secret? It’s not like anyone knew about the last times you’ve been together.
While contemplating the ethics, Edward felt his arousal become much more apparent. There was no rule against thinking about sex with your student slash employee. Or thinking about it when he happened to be touching himself. It was a bit uncouth and maybe not great on the morality scale, but that wasn’t going to stop him.
He didn’t want to sully your image with his filthy imagination as he masturbated, but this was the only way he was going to make it through the two weeks. And he was sure you were doing the same.
summary: You yearn for Edward again, but he doesn't seem as into it as you are.
warnings: SMUT!!! (MINORS DNI) Age Gap; oral (m receiving); semi-public sex
from AO3! hopefully i don’t get shadowbanned on this app again lol
You couldn’t stop thinking about that night. It was well into the Spring semester, only a few days before Spring break, and the memory was still front and center in your mind. Certainly, pouring yourself into the endless pages of homework and numbers ought to keep you occupied and not think about going into his office. That was your philosophy, anyway, not that it worked. You tried to get near the way that he made you feel with classmates and tinder dates, yet you were always left disappointed and yearning for him.
On days that you knew Edward had office hours, you found yourself walking passed the closed door to see him through the small window. More often than not, he was alone, grading papers or doing something on his computer. On those days, you wanted nothing more than to go inside and simply talk. You knew that he needed it. The angel on your shoulder always stopped you at the last minute. That could jeopardize the entire relationship that you two had created separately from the university.
On very small occasions, he would have someone with him. A student actually taking up the chance of asking questions about the work was rare even in your class, but at least they cared about their grades. That didn’t stop you from becoming jealous. What if he forgot about you and moved on to a newer dedicated student that eagerly listened to every one of his stories?
You shifted your focus to what was important. Not trying to get into the pants of your former professor and working on whatever your classes threw at you. Whatever kept you occupied.
On another late-night shift, there was a surprising amount of customers that deeply craved stale coffee and pie between the hours of midnight and six in the morning. You preferred the eerie silence of nobody. At least you could comfortably watch a bad Netflix show on your phone and get paid for it. Now, you were running in between booth seats and tables to make sure you got a fine tip if you had to work at this hour.
You didn’t notice the bell connected to the door ring, signaling a new customer. It wasn’t until you returned to the counter that you noticed the new, but familiar, face staring back at you. It was him. Right in the same seat as last time. Your heart skipped a beat, but you wanted to keep your cool. Act as if he wasn’t the one thing on your mind for the past several months.
“What can I get you?” You turned to him and leaned slightly on the countertop. Your uniform, which usually was used to get bigger tips from sleazy men (the owner’s idea. But everyone knew it was for him to ogle at) finally came in handy in this situation. It heavily accentuated your breasts, which were right at eye level with him.
He stared for a moment, “Um, just a coffee.”
You nodded and turned to make the beverage. You weren’t sure why anyone would want to consume anything from this diner, mostly because you knew how everything was made. The coffee was barely able to be called coffee, rather bean water. He certainly was here for you. Maybe he thought that it would be empty again just like last time and then…no.
You couldn’t get too ahead of yourself and lost in your imagination.
Other customers needed attention and once you handed him his drink, you left to deal with them. You needed everyone else to leave. Maybe you’d be able to get off for the first time in a while.
Eventually, the diner weeded out and you pocketed the small tips. He still took small sips of his coffee and kept his eyes on you, “How are your classes this semester?”
Talking about accounting was the last thing you wanted to do with this man. Nevertheless, you were going to indulge him, “Not hard. I don’t think the professors care too much about what they’re teaching. They’re certainly not you.” You twirled a strand of hair and leaned on the counter once again.
He rolled his eyes and took another sip, “Straight A’s?” You nodded, wondering why he was stalling and wasting time. You didn’t need to be a genius to know why he was here, you just wanted him to admit it. And evidently, act on his thoughts.
He left shortly after, leaving a small tip and not mentioning anything about the last time he was at the diner. To say you were frustrated in all senses of the word was an understatement. Once you got home, the sun was rising and you were in your bed, thinking of him and chasing a high that you desperately wanted him to get you to instead.
He knew his effect on you, for sure. It’s not like you were sneaky about it. You just needed him to actually do something about it. And if he wasn’t, you were.
You knew his office hours more than you knew any of your current professors’. After your classes for the day, you changed into the most suggestive outfit that you knew would send him over the edge. You were determined, making a beeline for the familiar room. He was sitting there, a poor student’s paper getting horrifyingly marked up by his red pen. He was alone and you were sure that nobody else was going to show up. Lucky you.
You opened the door and shut it dramatically behind you, locking it. His head shot up when the door slammed. He raised a brow. “We need to talk. Right now,” You took a deep breath and stared at him.
He gestured for you to sit on the chair by the desk, opposite of him, “What’s wrong?”
You pushed the chair to the side and placed both hands on the desk, “I can’t stop thinking about that night. I know there are rules about professors and students not being able to date, but we’re not technically that! What I’m really trying to say here, is that I need you to bend me over this desk and fuck me.”
He blinked, not knowing how to respond. Never in his years of teaching has he reciprocated a student coming onto him, though other instances of that were solely for the reason of giving them an A for the semester. But you technically weren’t his student, as you put it. Those titles dissolved once the semester ended and he certainly was aware of that when he went to the diner.
“I…can’t do that,” He replied as calmly as he possibly could despite how flustered he was becoming.
You cocked your head, “Why not? Is this your game? Pretend that we never-”
“Y/n. It’s not that I don’t want to, trust me when I tell you that I do,” He stood up and looked at you sympathetically. Your raging horniness turned quickly into guilt as he stared at you, “I have a meeting in five minutes and I don’t think I can squeeze you in.”
You felt the embarrassment creep into you. He only rejected you because of time. You glanced at the desk, “They’re talking to you in here?” Confused, he nodded. An idea crept into your mind and if you weren’t desperately aching for any kind of contact with him, you wouldn’t suggest it, “Can I suck you off under the desk?”
He was taken aback once again. Suddenly aware of his body, he felt a bit self-conscious. The thought of agreeing and possibly getting caught terrified him, yet also aroused him. The professional side of him desperately wanted to say no, yet that side wasn’t the one in control.
Against his better judgment, he looked down at the desk and then back at you, “Okay. You must stay completely silent. I mean it, not a single sound or it’s my job on the line and your scholarship.” Almost too eagerly, you settled yourself under the desk while listening to Edward’s nervous thoughts that he whispered under his breath.
He checked his watch, then sat down in his chair and began to unbutton his pants. He briefly watched you before you both heard the door to the office open. Edward composed himself, attempting to shake all of the raging nerves that he was feeling, and rested his hands on his desk, “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Ed,” You racked your brain to recognize the voice of the other man while you quietly pulled Edward’s cock out from his pants. Your eyes went wide, he was…average yet bigger than you imagined. You bit your lip.
“I’m going to cut to the chase. I understand your teaching methods and I admire you for it, but the average final grades need to raise for the accounting program’s sake. Obviously, you’re not in danger of getting fired, your tenure protects you,” Edward nodded along, but immediately deeply inhaled when you liked the underside of his cock before taking him into your mouth.
He raised a brow, “I…I’m not sure how I can fix that. I give them all the necessary materials and knowledge,” He paused to breathe and grip the edge of the desk as you continued, “If the students don’t want to put the effort into their work, that’s on them.”
“I understand that,” The voice finally clicked in your mind with a person. It was the Dean of the accounting program. You’ve become all too familiar with him over the semesters, he was quite a hardass most of the time. No wonder he and Edward got along so much.
You decided to give the Dean a decent show (aka: seeing Ed squirm and try to hide what’s going on) and push deeper onto his dick. As he tensed, he involuntarily thrust enough so that the tip hit the back of your throat.
“Is everything alright?” At that moment, you felt your scholarship flying away.
Edward nodded, “Yeah. Allergies, you know?”
“Ah. I’ll be quick so you can get out of here early,” the Dean folded his hands on the table, “I think the best road we can take to fix this is for you to be assigned a TA. We can do this for the rest of this semester and it might be permanent if it’s a positive impact.”
For a split second, you heard a moan from Edward that he instantly concealed with a cough. He nodded at the Dean’s idea, “Do you have anyone in mind that might be able to take the position, Ed?”
He glanced down to you and then back to the Dean, “There’s a junior accounting major that did well in my class last semester. Her name is Y/n L/n.” You stopped in your tracks upon hearing your name, then doubled down on your work on Edward. His cock twitched.
“Ah, yes. She’s a wonderful student in my experience. I’ll set up a meeting with her and see if she’d be available. Thank you for cooperating with all of this. The president’s on my case.” Edward drowned out everything the man across from him was saying. Instead, he held back any instinct to let himself go.
He forced a short laugh, “I worked in accounting. I know exactly what that feels like.”
The Dean stood up and held his hand out for Edward to shake. He took his hand and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, all while you felt his hot cum shooting down your throat.
You didn’t hear if anything else was said, only focusing on the sound of the door closing. Edward pulled his chair back, his cock sliding out of your mouth, and looked down at you while cleaning off his glasses from a slight fog, “Fuck, Y/n.”
You smiled, “How was that?” He tucked himself back into his pants.
He shook his head, “You almost got me fired. Only because I really didn’t want to hold back.”
You wiped your mouth and crawled out from under the desk and sat on top of it, “So, you really want me to be your TA? I thought they said something about not fucking your co-workers.”
He took a deep breath, “Of course, but we can never do this again.”
Hey everyone, I’m not sure how active the peacemaker fandom is here as of now, but I’ve been holding on to this idea for a really long time and was wondering if anyone had interest in reading it if i were to write it (or give ideas for it!)
It would be a mafia au with the 11th Street Kids as a gang that rules over Evergreen. Vigilante is the “killer” of the family and is very feared. He’s the assassin that gets people who owe debt to the family or wronged them in any way. Lately, he’s been bummed out about his life and is rather lonely. He demands that he find someone to marry or he’ll stop killing for the family.
In comes you! You take care of a dying parent and work a dead-end job that barely pays your bills, let alone the medical ones. Harcourt finds you and thinks you’re the perfect candidate. Not only are you kind and pretty, you are very easy to blackmail into marrying Adrian. (They help you pay your bills in exchange).
You agree and then actually fall in love with Adrian because he’s a sweetie pie and never does anything romantic/sexual against your will. If you can overlook the killing part, life is perfect. But can you?
Please let me know your thoughts and all! My ask box and replies are open!
Hey was wondering if you could do a Adrian chase x reader where she is going through postpartum depression ,and rarely wants to be around the baby if not it's fine
this is a bit short, but I thought this would be nice to write! Not sure how well I depicted this.
After quite a long time of trying and a whole nine months, you and Adrian couldn’t be more thrilled when your baby was finally in your arms. A beautiful boy with his nose and your eyes.
You were glad that the name debate was over as well. Adrian was adamant that his son be named after his best friend (Chris), but you were less than thrilled to name your child after someone like Peacemaker no matter how much he’s changed into a better person. Eventually, you settled on Cooper. A small hyperfixation on Twin Peaks during the pregnancy lead to naming him after your favorite character.
The nurses in the hospital gave odd looks when the team showed up to meet the newest 11th Street Kid. A few people in full combat suits cooing at a baby wasn’t something they normally saw on their shifts. It was truly the happiest and most rewarding day of your life.
It all seemed to go downhill from there, though. Two months later, Adrian swayed with Cooper in his arms at three in the morning while you slept. He begrudgingly decided to take a hiatus from his job as Vigilante after noticing your decline in mental health.
He’s read about things like this, depression after having a baby. The only thing he could do was be there for you and take the full responsibility for Cooper as you recovered. He didn’t have much of a choice, though. The last time that he left you alone with the baby lead you to having a panic attack and secluding yourself in the room for the rest of the day.
Adrian couldn’t be happier about spending time with his child, but the thought of him causing you so much pain was unbearable. It was harder knowing that this was something he couldn’t just fix by killing someone.
He set up an appointment for you at a decent therapist that Leota recommended and dropped you off before heading over to the video store with the baby strapped to his chest. Might as well help out with work instead of worrying about you while you were away.
“So where’s Y/n? You two break up already or something?” John joked, barely looking up from his computer to greet Adrian. It wasn’t like he was deep into doing actual work, they were in between missions.
Adrian rolled his eyes, “Of course not. She’s just at therapy, so I’m on baby duty.”
Leota walked into the room upon hearing him enter, mostly to coo at the baby and get the chance to hold him for a little bit. She took Cooper from the carrier and sat down on the nearby couch, rocking him until he drifted back to sleep, “She’s still going through it?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to do anymore. All I can really do is be there for her until she feels better,” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. If there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he loved you with his whole heart and would do absolutely anything for you.
“She’ll get better, Adrian. She’s strong. Just needs some time,” Leota tried to console him as best as she could.
Back home, Adrian sat on the floor with Cooper. He held a small toy and occasionally shook it in front of him. You came out of your room and smiled softly at the sight of your husband and your son. Quietly, you sat next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder.
He held your knee, “How are you feeling, honey?”
“I’m getting better, I think,” You placed your hand on his and reached out to tickle Cooper. He looked at you and smiled, holding back his laughter as much as he could. You only supposed that he was still too young to know how to. A warmth filled your heart. Things were truly getting better.
And Adrian would be there for you every step of the way.
pair: edward nashton (professor!) x fem!reader (student but also not)
summary: Edward Nashton’s a tough professor, but you’re up for the challenge.
warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18++++); oral sex (f. receiving); questionable student/teacher relationship (they are but they aren’t); age gap
slay. I’ve been posting this series on AO3 and decided to take it to my tumblr as well :)
You heard horror stories about Professor Nashton. One of the two professors that taught advanced forensic accounting, a class that you needed to take for your major. Professor Ives was kind and very generous with extra credit. Unfortunately, the only class that you could take that fit into your schedule wasn’t with Professor Ives.
Most people complained about his lectures, usually long and boring and full of riddles that didn’t have much to do with the actual subject. He was strict about grading and the smallest error in a project might turn your A into a B. Unfortunately, you weren’t an exception to the normal borderline failing student that became the norm.
The thirty seconds that you stood outside of his room, too nervous to start your office hour session with him, felt like an eternity. It was common knowledge that nobody dared trying to go to his office hours. Students were too afraid to get on his bad side to even attempt to ask questions about the lecture. You were different, though. You were determined to get at least a B- in this class even if it meant spending an awkward few minutes with the man.
He didn’t look at you as you walked in and took your seat on the other side of the desk. You clutched your binder close to your chest, sheets upon sheets of printed-out homework and projects thickening it. You wrote your own notes over and around the notes that he gave you. You practiced everything that you wanted to talk to him about.
He wrote the grade with a large red marker on someone’s project. D. You hoped that it wasn’t yours. “I don’t offer extra credit if that’s what you came here for. And I will not be bribed by any means,” He flipped the stack of papers over, pushing them to the side and finally looking up at you. For a moment, you wondered what students might have tried to use to bribe him.
“That…That’s not what I’m here for, sir. I wanted to discuss the last project and what I could do better for the next time,” You opened your binder and nervously pulled the stapled stack of paper with a marked B- on the top out of the front fold. You offered the paper to him and he took it.
That project, in particular, getting a report from some made-up company and logging their accounts as well as any discrepancies, didn’t seem too difficult for you. You finished it with time to spare and found nothing wrong when you went over it, yet you barely passed. You began to wonder if you were doing everything wrong and you were in the wrong field.
He flipped through the pages faster than any person could possibly be looking at the content. You sat quietly, hoping that your breathing didn’t disturb his work. “While there aren’t many mistakes, the ones that you did make were those that should have been eradicated in basic accounting. It might be a problem with you rather than this individual project.” His facial features were soft, but that didn’t seem to translate to his harsh personality.
Your breathing halted, maybe you should have listened when you were told to avoid going to his office hours. Was he calling you stupid? “I’ve never had a problem before this class. Is there anything that I can do about that?” The voice in your head wanted to lean over the desk and slap the shit out of the man, but you knew that it would only make things worse for you. His words would get to you tonight when you were able to cry about it if you needed.
“I can’t fix what was broken from the start, I’m afraid,” he handed the stack of papers back to you and you took them with a shaky hand. At this point, you weren’t sure if the shaking came from anger or you fighting back the urge to cry. Your life’s passion, the one thing you were sure that you excelled at, he was telling you that you never had a chance. What an asshole.
You looked down at the papers in your lap, “Is there… any way to improve in this class? Even with my…problems?” You weren’t sure why this was such a blow to your self-confidence. You’ve had much worse said to you by your parents when you told them that you wanted to go into accounting. You nearly failed geometry and their hope for you fell down the drain.
He sighed as if this wasn’t literally the job that he signed up to do for a living. “Unless you want to dedicate your time to coming to my office hours every single time there’s an assignment to go over things, I suggest you drop the class before it affects your GPA too much,” He looked at someone else’s project and shook his head. It was like you weren’t even there.
And that’s exactly what you did for the rest of the semester. From the time that he started his office hours to when he kicked you out, you worked on your assignments. Maybe you were a bit delusional, but you started to wonder if he was finally warming up to you. Your grades definitely reflected a more positive relationship with the man. You were probably the only person in the class that had an A by December.
The final was in two days and you were still committing to your office hour sessions with Professor Nashton. “You intrigue me, Y/n,” He spoke out of the blue.
You looked up from your papers, “How so?”
He leaned back into his chair. It squeaked slightly, “Most students just give up after that first office hour visit. They…curse me out and then drop a shitty rate my professor review. But not you, Y/n.” He spoke along with his hands, “You never let me spend a class or office hour alone.”
“It definitely paid off. I think I’m one of the only people not either failing or borderline failing. Why do you grade like that?” You’ve been meaning to ask that question for so long, but it never seemed right. Now that you two felt like somewhat friends and he was getting personal, maybe he would find out.
He bit his lip, “This subject relies on precision. One mistake could jail an innocent person or let a guilty one roam free. Forensic accountants are crucial and perhaps the foundation of the justice system. Financially, that is. If I start my students with a work ethic that relies strongly on attention to detail and little mistakes, justice will be served in the future. Most of them just don’t want to work hard.”
You nodded along. You agreed with him to a point but thought that he should have been a bit less harsh in the way that he conducts this message. “That…actually makes a lot of sense. Maybe you should say that at the beginning of the semester,” You suggested.
He shook his head, “If they didn’t try before, it’s not going to make them suddenly start. Most people at this school are privileged little fucks that’ll go into their daddy’s firm once they graduate. Pardon my French. People like us work for our success.”
He wasn’t wrong there. Gotham University was built on nepotism and will always be that way, it seemed.
~~~
The final wasn’t bad, just as you had expected. It was exactly what you studied and discussed with the professor, so you were pretty sure that you got a decent grade. The other students filtered out of the classroom as soon as they wrote down their final number and rejoiced in their winter break starting. Once the last person left, you took the opportunity to talk to Professor Nashton one last time.
“How was it?” He asked, sorting through the stacks of finished tests all over his desk.
You shrugged, “It was good. Not to brag, but I think I got an almost perfect score.” This earned you a smile from him. You took a deep breath and adjusted your bag on your shoulder, “Now that we’re not technically student and teacher anymore, I wanted to let you know that I really enjoy talking with you. I work at this little diner by the Iceberg Lounge and if you’re ever in the area, you’re free to stop by. I’ll even throw in a free coffee and slice of pumpkin pie.”
“That’s very generous of you, Y/n. I’ll keep that in mind,” You had your suspicions that he was only saying that to be polite, but a small part of you wanted to see him again. Seeing him in a less professional setting and without the big label of instructor might do him some good.
Your winter break was uneventful. You worked, occasionally spent time with your friends, and avoided your family’s judgment throughout the holiday season. It wasn’t until the second week of January that things got interesting again.
Working at a 24-hour diner meant that you had to be available for work at all times of the day. You drew the short straw and found yourself behind the counter, completely void of co-workers and customers, at 2 in the morning on a Wednesday. You were halfway through Pride and Prejudice when you were startled by the doorbell.
Standing in the doorway was him. Your former professor in a large raincoat and informal wear. “What are you doing here so late?” You asked, smirking. You were relieved to have someone to talk to other than yourself and that he wasn’t some random creep.
“I could ask you the same thing. I couldn’t sleep,” He sat on one of the barstools and you turned on the coffee machine. If it were anyone else, you would’ve served the stale, hours-old coffee.
“What does your spouse think of your late-night diner runs?” You took a relatively hot slice of pie and placed it in front of him with a fork.
He took a bite of the pie, “Not married.”
You raised a brow, “I can’t imagine why not. You’re smart, attractive, and literally a tenured professor at an esteemed university.” You turned to grab a cup for the coffee.
Edward paused and looked up from his pie, “You of all people should not be saying that I’m attractive.”
“Why? Because you’re older than me?” You snorted.
“Because you’re beautiful. And frankly, I feel guilty even saying that.”
You poured the coffee in silence and placed it in front of him. He found you attractive. Now that there was no formal rule that could get him fired, you had all the opportunity in the world to mess with him. And by mess with him, you really just want to jump his arrogant bones.
“Are you sure that pie’s the only thing in here you wanna eat?” You put on your best seductive voice, making him slightly choke on his coffee. He glared at you, “Oh, come on. We’re not limited to roles anymore. We’re just two adults that know each other from university.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, trust me, I’ve shamefully thought about it before. It’s just-”
“Just nothing! I’m offering to get on this counter, lift my skirt up, and let you eat me out. Yes or no?”
He sat in silence for a second, staring. The gears in his brain were turning. He grabbed the plate and the cup and pushed them to the side, “Get up.”
This was a first for you. Sex with a professor and doing it at work. Despite it all, you sat up on the counter and showed yourself to him. He stared for a moment, nervous, before hooking his arms under your legs and diving in.
Other than the buzzing of the various machines in the diner, the only noises in the room were of Edward licking and the moans that you held back. You didn’t expect him to be that good, no man ever was when it came to oral. He found your clit after a few seconds and began to suck on it, not giving you a chance to register the sudden rush of pleasure.
“Fuck!” You moved your hand on the counter, accidentally swiping the coffee cup off. It shattered, but Edward didn’t look up or stop. It wasn’t like you were going to stop and clean it up now, anyway.
“Y/n, you taste so good,” He whispered into your pussy. You grabbed his hair and twirled it with your fingers.
He pushed two fingers into you and you felt the pleasure fully begin to coil in your stomach. You moaned and tugged on his hair. That only made him go faster.
With Edward relentlessly pleasuring you, it took not long for you to see stars. The walls were not soundproof and you had forgotten if they had security cameras or not, but that didn’t stop you from calling out his name as you came around his fingers.
He finally looked up at you with a goofy smile on his face. Your face was flushed and your chest noticeably rose and fell. Now, you were more confused that he wasn’t married. “How was that?”
summary: one year after the butterflies were destroyed, the team must meet again. Y/n and Adrian’s romance gets reignited...
warnings: SMUT (18+++ ONLY!!! NO MINORS); mentions of bullet wounds and violence...
trying to get back into writing after a while...
“What happened next?” Holly asked, half paying attention to your story and half dedicated to curling her client’s hair. The stagnant sounds of blow dryers from the other side of the room were tuned out by the small group of people listening to you.
You sighed, chopping the ends of your own client’s hair and attempting to make it as even as possible. “Well, the mission was over and the team went back to our lives around the country. I stayed with one of my old friends here in Seattle with a bullet wound right in my chest and she convinced me to go to beauty school. Now I’m here,” You explained, leaving out the details where you literally committed murder, even if it was of alien butterflies. Everyone already heard about the story on the news.
“Don’t you miss it, though? I highly doubt cutting hair could possibly live up to being a secret government agent,” Your client, Dot, asked. From what you were told, she worked as a teacher before she retired.
Shrugging, you continued to cut her hair. “I’ve had one too many near-death experiences for one lifetime. The conversation’s nice here, too.”
The conversation turned to Holly’s client and the vacation she was going on with her family in the coming weeks. You listened, but your thoughts seemed to overpower anything that she might have been saying. It’s been a year since the 11th Street Kids disbanded. What was everyone doing? Were Chris and Emilia finally together? How many more dogs did Leota and Keeya adopt?
Other than the occasional meme or joke sent in the group chat, you lost contact with the group. Leaving the black ops scene really threw you out of the loop of any undercover work they were doing or work at all, to be fair. Everything was top secret even when you were in the loop with everything.
You loved the life you had now. Living in a big city with a steady job and no immediate threat of death to yourself or anyone you cared about was perfect, but you couldn’t get your mind off of your time fighting the butterflies. Nothing could compare to the late nights of research with John and the runs to 7-eleven when the two of you needed a caffeine boost.
Thinking about Adrian was the hardest. He was sweet and had some screws loose, but you were undeniably in love with him. It’s not like you ever told him, though. After he left the hospital through the window, you left and never saw him again.
A few clients later, the reminiscing fully left your mind. You tried to keep the conversation topics catered towards the other person instead of your own life, which offered enough of a distraction.
You sat in the back room and aimlessly scrolled on your phone as you waited for the last person scheduled for the day. The receptionist popped her head into the door and gave you a smile, “Someone’s here for you. She said it was just to talk, I don’t know.” She turned on her heel and walked back to the desk.
You recognized the blonde woman that stood by the desk. Her hair was a little longer, but it was undoubtedly Emilia Harcourt in the flesh. You covered your mouth in surprise and nearly started to run to give her a hug. “What brings you here? If you warned me, I totally could have done your hair if that’s what you need!”
Her smile dissipated and she took a deep breath, “I wish it was something like that.” A small part of you knew that seeing her again only meant bad things, but you wanted to believe that she might’ve just wanted to see you. “It’s a…butterfly situation. The team is getting back together.”
“How? We destroyed their cow,” The whole mission of killing that cow at the farm was the last thing you did as a team and frankly, the last mission you ever did. The thought of even fighting those things again made you shiver.
Harcourt nodded, “Chris kept Goff and somehow he evolved into eating regular food. Now, he’s repopulating and it’s not long until they start killing again. We can’t do this without the whole team.”
You looked back to the few people getting their hair done, the same sight that you’ve been seeing for months. There was a certain comfort in always going to the same building and seeing the same people week after week. Would leaving a stable life for more danger and unpredictability be worth it?
“Couldn’t you try?”
~~
Against your better judgment, you found yourself in the passenger seat of Harcourt’s car anxiously awaiting the sign that welcomed you to Evergreen. You slumped against the back of the seat and listened to the quiet radio playing some top 40 hits you didn’t know. The prospect of seeing your friends once again left a pit in your stomach.
You distinctly remember what happened the night before the final battle. You took Adrian back to your motel room to watch some obscure 70s horror film that he wanted to show you. It was a lot more…risque than you expected and with the close proximity between the two of you, the second half of the film was lost in your mind.
Passing the familiar restaurant that you knew Adrian worked in, or used to work to your knowledge, made everything seem real. The video store that doubled as headquarters came clear into view and all of your memories flooded back to you along with the emotions that came with them. You didn’t know if you were ready to jump right back into your old life. As monotonous as it was, cutting hair was an escape for you and Seattle was almost the complete opposite of Evergreen.
John was the first person you saw when you walked through the door. His beard was shorter and noticeably less multi-colored than you remembered. He had new glasses, yet kept the same resting look of annoyance that he reserved for anyone in the 11th Street Kids.
Leota and Chris were next. They were passionately discussing…arguing about the differences between actual sex and porn. And suddenly, you were the same person you were only a year ago. Falling back into the comfort of your old family. You hugged them and talked a little bit about what’s been happening in the past year before Harcourt interrupted to talk about the mission.
You were half paying attention to the rundown of the mission. The other half of you was wondering where Adrian was and if he was actually going to show up.
Apparently, you weren’t very lowkey about hiding this concern. Leota leaned over to you with a smirk, “He had to finish his shift at Fennel, he’ll be here in a few minutes.” You felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment.
Everyone already knew the type of relationship that you and Adrian had during the first operation butterfly. Neither of you tried to hide the glances and shameless flirting, or the carpooling to and from the video store in the same clothes as the day before. You weren’t going to admit that you liked him more than co-workers with benefits situation and he certainly wasn’t going to shoot his shot and get brutally rejected in front of everyone. Or that’s what he thought. You would’ve said yes.
That day after the battle at the farm, you were going to tell Adrian how you felt about him. He fled from his hospital room and went AWOL before you could even do it. You took that as a sign and left without saying goodbye to him. To say that you were nervous to see him was an understatement of epic proportions. You were nearly shitting your pants with the thought that he might walk through that door at any minute.
Chris sheepishly looked down at the ground when Harcourt described why exactly they were in this position again. They were definitely together, you observed. Maybe this was their first big fight…or their hundredth. There was a certain aspect of disappointment but care in her tone when she spoke about him and his mistake.
Eventually, after much lecturing from Harcourt, the door to the video store opened, and there stood Adrian in his work uniform. His glasses, still the same frame, were crooked on his face. It was almost as if he ran from the restaurant to be here, but you could see his Sebring (the Vigilante-Mobile, as he called it. You were surprised that the piece of junk still ran after all this time.) Parked across the street.
He began to talk about why he was late, but his eyes met yours before he could finish his sentence. He went quiet, staring for a moment. Shaking his head, he continued on with his excuse before sitting down next to John and listening to the rest of Harcourt’s rundown.
After the meeting, you and Leota caught up on each other’s lives. She and Keeya adopted a new dog and Emerson finally grew into a bigger size costume. You told her about your job and your subsequent lack of a love life.
“Seems like you’re still stuck on someone. Maybe someone in this very room?” She wiggled her eyebrows and nodded her head in Adrian’s direction. He was talking with Chris, much to his annoyance.
You shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t even think he likes me like that. Plus, he has a life here and I have my own life. It’s just too much to ask.”
She laughed, almost shouting with the volume of her exaggerated laughter. You rolled her eyes, “Dude, he is head over heels in love with you. He’s been that way ever since you met. Literally mentions you any time we get together.”
You raised a brow, “I guess I gotta talk to him, then.” At least you were halfway decent at keeping your excitement at bay. Your stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of him being into you.
~~
One by one, everyone left to go to their hotels or homes in the area. Since it was so short notice, you had no choice but to stay at the video store. Once John left, it was only you and Adrian alone together. Both of you skirted around having a real conversation throughout the time that everyone was here, but it was much harder to do now that nobody else was there to talk to.
You sat down at the chair next to him, “I missed you.” Breaking the silence, it sounded louder than you initially desired.
Adrian looked at you, “I went back here after the hospital. Harcourt said you left.”
You raised a brow, “I couldn’t find you at the hospital. I took that as an answer and didn’t want to say goodbye.”
There was another period of silence between the two of you. Your eyes were locked on his. It was almost as if you were having a conversation in your minds.
Adrian crashed his lips into yours and you felt yourself get pushed against the back of the chair you were sitting on. Your hands wrapped around his neck and he took hold of your waist. He gently sucked on your bottom lip while you kissed like he was trying to make up for the lost time. You greatly missed the warmth of him against you.
The position you were both in began to be uncomfortable, so you pushed him to the ground as softly as you possibly could. You climbed onto his lap and tugged at the seam of the t-shirt he was wearing. He allowed you to pull it off of him and followed in your footsteps, taking your own shirt off.
Only breaking from each other when the fabric of the shirts got in the way, it was as if no time had passed. You reached for his jeans and he briefly pulled away, “Don’t you need, like, foreplay?”
You shook your head, “I need you, Adrian.”
Without hesitation, he unbuckled his belt and released himself from the confines of his pants while you followed. You reached down to stroke him in an attempt to get him fully erect. The last time you’d fucked anyone other than yourself was a year ago with him. Maybe you were a bit ravenous…and horny.
“Are you ready?” You asked. He nodded, whimpering slightly. Oh, how you missed the sounds of his soft whines. It was almost better than his louder and more enthusiastic moans.
You let out a wanton moan as you lowered yourself onto him until he bottomed out. Being full of him was a feeling that you never missed. He was breathing a bit heavier now as you stayed still, one hand on his chest to feel his lungs inflate and deflate.
He grabbed your waist and began to move you around him. You complied to this, raising yourself up and lowering back onto him.
Hopefully, nobody forgot their keys or anything. They would have fully walked into the two of you fucking in the middle of the floor.
pair: Adrian Chase x fem!reader; Edward Nashton x fem!reader
summary: With you still missing, everyone is on edge.
warnings: light SMUT (18+); infidelity; mention of murder; kidnapping; stockholm syndrome i guess; adrian slander
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
sorry, i genuinely forgot about this lol
Chasing around a bunch of dogs in the shelter wasn’t exactly what Chris and Adrian imagined when they thought about the whole operation. With a serial killer, a missing team member, and an unfamiliar location, getting benched felt like the worst choice for the two heroes. Adrian pouted, “I can’t just sit around while my name is getting dragged through the mud by some random guy who likes riddles.”
Chris brought a dog to his lap and started to pet it, “And your girlfriend’s missing.” The dog jumped up and started to lick his face.
“That too, even worse,” He nodded, beginning to pace around again. His first thought went to finding the guy and killing him straight up, but that would first involve him actually finding him, which proved to be less than straightforward.
“Why don’t we make a diss track? A video where we tell this creep that we’re not ones to be fucked with. He’ll practically piss his pants and everything will be alright again,” Chris suggested.
Adrian perked up, “That is the greatest idea you’ve ever had!”
~~
In the meantime, John scoured the internet for any mention of the Riddler, focusing on chatrooms and underground websites that might attract the true crime community.
With the release of that video, your time might have been severely limited and his job was much harder. At least it wasn’t him fucking up, knowing how rough a lecture from Harcourt could get under the right sort of pressure.
As far as he knew, everything that existed could be found with enough time spent searching over the internet. After hours of seemingly nothing, he stumbled upon a site that asked a simple riddle.
I get bigger the more you take away…
John rolled his eyes, he hated riddles. It was just his luck that the guy he was looking for was obsessed with them. He typed in the answer. A hole. Hitting the enter button, the page refreshed and another riddle popped up.
He cracked his knuckles and began to solve each riddle, some more difficult than others. Eventually, once he was nearing the level of annoyance that he might just start ripping his hair out, the screen changed from a riddle to a different request.
What would you like to be called?
Blinking a few times, he came up with a username. ChainsawGorilla. He figured that it wasn’t too revealing or suspicious. There was no way that Riddler could possibly be onto him with it.
The page refreshed again to a small interface. It looked like an old-school Youtube channel. There were over 500 followers already and many comments on the board on the front page. John covered his mouth and inhaled.
He clicked on the backlogs of previous livestreams. One was from just last night, around one-thirty in the morning. “What the fuck?” He scrolled through the list of videos and they went as far as January this year. Whoever the Riddler was, he’s been planning this for a while and his followers are very passionate about him and his message.
Clicking on the most recent one, the same guy from the commissioner video appeared in what looked like his room. There was a tapestry behind him with his question mark logo painted on it.
He talked about killing the mayor, what it felt like and how exactly he did it. Eventually, the topic of Vigilante came up and John sat up straight, fully paying attention to the video. The camera was turned to reveal his missing teammate, fully incapacitated.
You were terrified and confused, a state he’s never seen you in. The sight brought his heart to his stomach. He felt like an older brother to you and there was nothing that he could do to save you at the moment. He was already doing everything that he could. Who knows what sort of torture you could be going through?
He had confirmation of who exactly you were with, yet the location was still completely unknown. John was good with computers, but the Riddler was better. The site was like a hydra, with every wall or VPN that he cracked open, three more appeared. It felt necessary when you were planning to be a serial killer online.
He noticed that these streams usually happened in the early morning hours. Meaning, if John was lucky enough (or right), another stream would happen tonight as always. He would just have to wait.
~~
The ability to know what time it was or how long you’ve been in this apartment was a privilege you took for granted. In the time that you were here, you were usually asleep or unconscious at some level, though you were given food. It was night again and the Riddler sat at his computer while you watched from the floor.
You seemed to get in his good graces enough to have the duct tape over your mouth removed and you stayed silent since then.
That was until he watched a video directed at him by none other than Vigilante and Peacemaker. It was childish, in character for the two of them, and it naturally only made the Riddler more pissed off than he already was.
He held you close to him and the knife closer to your neck, the sharp blade slightly pressing against the skin. You were trained to survive torture, but the thought of this being the way you died was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. In between moments of hyperventilation and panic, you cried out, “Vigilante’s in love with someone else! Killing me won’t matter!”
The Riddler stopped his rant and turned to you, though you could only see the mask, “What?”
The rational side of your brain caught up with the emotional side and you realized what you had said. You never said it out loud and the humiliation was flooding through you. He repeated his question and you began to answer along with your sniffles, “I knew for a long time and I guess I never admitted it to myself. He’s in love with Peacemaker.”
A weight had been lifted from your chest. Every glance and gesture the two shared on top of their colorful history together brought you to your conclusion a while after you began dating. It was nice to finally tell someone, knowing that anyone on the team would only call Adrian’s behavior just him being himself.
You looked into the eyes through the mask, “We’ve been together for six months and only had sex four times. The last time was over a month ago. Whenever Peacemaker is there, it’s like I don’t exist. He won’t care about this video.” While embarrassing, the confession might have saved your life.
He loosened his grip on you and lowered the knife. “Why did you try to clear his name?” He accused, still keeping his guard up and glancing at the red light on the camera.
There was no point in lying now, even to this stranger who doubled as a serial killer. You’re not so different, at least, body count-wise. You sighed, “Because I was dumb enough to fall in love with him. Despite everything, I hoped that he might notice it.”
You were staring into the camera now. A voice in the back of your mind screamed that you were probably being live-streamed to the entire city or something, but common sense brought you back. This was only something that he could send in to the news. He’d edit it.
Silence fell in between the two of you. He seemed to be calculating his next move and you noticed how his arm was wrapped around your waist and his hand rested on your stomach. With the fear factor taken away, it was almost intimate. Adrian had not held you close like this in a while.
Carefully, you placed your hand over his and began to drag it lower until he hovered over the button of your pants. He unclasped the button and paused, silently asking for permission to go further. The leather of his glove was warm against your skin as he slid his hand under your panties.
His impatience became clear as he brushed against your clit and went straight to prodding at your entrance with his fingers. You held in a gasp when he initially made contact and the amount of time since you’ve had proper sex dawned on you. It’s been so long with your own hand and a vibrator to keep you company while Adrian was out doing god knows what with Chris.
He pushed two fingers inside of you and you couldn’t hold in the shaky moan that you released. This didn’t feel real, but it was.
The worst part: You weren’t sure if you wanted to be rescued anymore.
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