#adrian chase

[avyenol]

[hollis-art]

mind you, only one of these people has the right to think this

[fragulaura]

Paris looks good today

[yunyuu]

rare aesthetic: handsome mentally ill stalkers who don't stalk you because they're perverts, but because they're so emotionally and psychologically depends on you that they literally can't live without you.

[cosmictheo]

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 | adrian chase

( gif credits to @castledevil )

—summary: you despise adrian, and adrian adores you. it's as simple as that. until he saves your life. —pairing: adrian chase x female!reader —word count: 4.3k —warnings: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), smitten!adrian, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, adrian being THE consent king, some porn with some plot, body worship, pussy pronouns, praise kink, sub!adrian, adrian being a slut for the reader as he should be, blood, killing, shooting, mentions of injuries, yk usual peacemaker stuff

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

The first time you saw Adrian Chase, you thought it was a joke. No, not a joke in the sense that it wasn't real, but a joke that fate had pulled on you. The man in the Vigilante suit, who sang hair metal ballads in the car and dropped facts about owls mid-mission, was your new teammate.

Peacemaker trusted him, and you trusted Peacemaker, so naturally you really had no choice but to work with him.

His first reaction? Big, bright eyes flashing through his mask, and a fall to his knees at the sight of you snapping some criminal's neck.

Your first reaction? A sigh and a look that promised doom.

You, who were used to discipline and seriousness, couldn't understand how someone like him could be part of such an important operation. He had literally been one of the people who had saved the world from being dominated by a bunch of alien bugs.

He, for his part, looked at you as if you were the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life.

He smiled at you in that silly, genuine way that got on your nerves. He talked nonstop about things you didn't care about, his life as a vigilante, his intimate friendship with Peacemaker, his passion for birds.

“Did you know that owls can turn their heads all the way around?” he asked you one day while you were on patrol. “They can turn them like 270 degrees in a circle without moving their shoulders. Can you imagine if I could do that?”

You ignored him and kept looking through your binoculars. “I'm not in the mood to talk about birds, Adrian,” you said, your voice as cold as usual.

He didn't give up and tried to rotate his neck, very awkwardly due to his mask. “I could just rotate my neck like this and—”

“Adrian, please shut up,” you interrupted him, finally turning your head so you could look at him. “We have work to do. Stop being a fucking freak for a minute.”

He fell silent, and for a moment, you felt a little bad. But then you thought about all the times he had pissed you off, and you got over it. 

Still, it was strange. 

Despite your constant rejections, your constant unkind looks, he always came back. He always smiled at you. He always offered you one of his homemade cookies —which, much to your chagrin, were incredibly good.

He extended that extra special treatment to you and only you.

Adrian treated you as if you were the most important person in the world. And that, in a twisted way, made you feel like you were the freak in the situation. He adored you.

Although, deep down, you found him ridiculously cute. He was damn attractive when he shut his mouth and obeyed you in everything.

You would never accept it, of course.

Chris, on his part, tried way too hard to make you like him. Every time you guys hung out, he would mention how good of a friend Adrian was, how good he was at killing people, as if that would somehow impress you—which it did, of course—and how big his dick was.

He literally just mentioned it like that, without further explanation or any context, as if it were a piece of information you would be interested in knowing.

He took special care to pair you with Adrian for assignments, leave you alone together, send you to buy food for Eagly together. He was a kind of fucked-up Cupid.

“I don't need to know that,” you would say with disgust, trying very hard not to envision Adrian's dick.

And Chris would just nod his head, leaning in close to you as if he were revealing a top secret, “You need to know, dude. Honestly, I don't think Adrian likes sex that much. But his dick is big, I can assure you that.”

You didn't even want to know how he even knew that.

You didn't even like Adrian that way.

At least that's what you thought.

Until now.

You were on a regular night of surveillance; preventing a crime of some criminal gang that you had been tracking.

Everything was going well until the hallways filled with armed men, and a flurry of bullets struck near you. 

Before you could react, one of the masked men shot you in the shoulder.

You feel a sharp pain that shoots through your entire arm, and then blood began to flow.

“Shit!” you cry out, retreating.

Adrian, who had insisted —begged— to accompany you that night, turn around when he hears the scream. You can scarcely see how his eyes panic, desperately searching for you through all the chaos.

He moves faster than you had ever seen him move before.

Then, he throws himself on top of you, covering you with his body, and drags you to a safe corner behind a wall of boxes.

“You're bleeding!” he gasps, his voice tinged with panic.

The pain makes you grit your teeth and the way he looks at you knocks you off balance. “I'm fine, it's just a scratch.”

“It's not fucking a scratch!” he snaps, tearing off a piece of his suit to cover the wound. “You got fucking shot, Lynx!”

The use of your vigilante name makes you finally look at him, dragging your gaze away from your bleeding wound. You can see the concern in his eyes through his mask, and he doesn't have to take it off for you to know that his lips are pursed in a pout.

His touch is gentle and careful, which surprises you. The adrenaline prevents you from thinking clearly. You'd never imagine that Adrian would be so... gentle.

While he is bandaging your wound, another man peers down the hallway. Adrian pushes you further back. 

“Stay here!” he whispers, and without a second thought, he stands up to confront him.

The shooting intensifies and then you hear the sound of a chainsaw igniting, followed by a flood of screams of pain.

Just a couple of minutes later, Adrian appears in your field of vision, his suit covered in blood.

He looks so fucking hot that you couldn't even suppress the thought, in all the haze of hurt you are feeling.

“We have to get out of here,” Adrian claims, returning to your side. “you need a doctor.”

​You shook your head, the pain throbbing in your shoulder. “My car is a couple of blocks away. We can go there, but no doctors.”

He looks at you disapprovingly for a moment before sighing and help you up, supporting your weight against him. Together, you sneak out of the market, leaving the entire criminal gang slaughtered behind and the owner of the store with a horrified look on his face, calling the police.

When you reach your car, you struggle to open the door. Adrian gently pushes you aside and does it for you.

You sit in the passenger seat, feeling the sting in your shoulder with every movement.

“Where are we going?” Adrian asks, starting the engine right after you toss him the keys.

“My house,” you reply. It is the closest and safest option, although the idea of being alone with him makes you uneasy.

Adrian already knew your address, of course; he had been there several times, showing up with his homemade cookies, sometimes with new weapons to show you, and other times with clues about some criminal you were hunting.

The journey is silent, except for the sound of the engine, some Frank Sinatra album playing on the stereo and your ragged breathing. Adrian glances at you from time to time, his eyes displaying full concern once he takes off his mask and throws it on the back seat. You don't dare look at him directly, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and confusion.

“Frank Sinatra?” he inquires a in a teasing, incredulous tone, without looking at you. This time, it is you the one staring at him, at his side profile, the line of his strong jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his eyelashes barely brush his cheekbones with each blink. Looking at the undercut of his hairstyle makes your stomach turn. He certainly is so cute. “The most ruthless assassin I know listens to Frank Sinatra?”

He looked odd without his glasses, maybe even more gorgeous, which was ridiculously beyond belief that it was possible for him to be.

“I'm not a ruthless assassin,” you mumble, looking away from him and feeling your cheeks flush, suddenly hot all over. You assume it is because your body is starting to healing itself. Or at least that's what you want to believe. “And Sinatra is a classic.”

“He is, I guess.” Adrian snorts softly, looking at you for a couple of seconds before shifting his gaze back to the road ahead. “For old people.”

“What?” you ask, looking at him again, your eyes trailing over the bend of his nose from his side profile, feeling a heat spread up from the lower part of your belly as you picture all the things you could do with that nose. You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your trance and snap back to reality. “I’m not old.”

A smile curls on his lips as he turns his head to look at you again, his eyes gleaming under the subdued lights inside the car. His gaze is soft, and caring, and warm.

But even so, Adrian seems a little flustered and nervous, overwhelmed by your presence right next to him, your scent, your breath, your voice. You.

When you arrive at your house, he helps you walk up the stairs at the entrance, holding you firmly. Once inside, he guides you to the sofa, always holding you close to him and handling you with care, touching only the necessary parts. He does not allow his hand to wander.

“I'll go get the first aid kit,” he says, already moving toward the bathroom.

You lie back on the sofa, feeling tired and in pain. He returns with the first aid kit and kneels down in front of you, carefully opening the supplies.

He removes the makeshift bandage from his suit, his gaze fixed on the wound.

“I'm sorry,” he utters softly, with evident guilt in his voice. “If only I had been quicker...”

“Don't be silly,” you interrupt him, trying to keep yout voice quiet. “It wasn't your fault. And in fact, you prevented any more bullets from hitting me. So...” your voice trails off and you blush lightly, “you saved my life, Adrian.”

He looks you in the eyes, and for the first time, there is not a trace of his usual antics. Only concern and a tenderness that makes you feel vulnerable.

And he doesn't encounter the usual coldness and detachment in your gaze; no, this time he finds softness and closeness.

“And it's already healing. So don't be dramatic,” you add, trying to brush off the real gravity of everything you just said to him.

“Sometimes I forget you have those creepy powers,” he says softly, looking up at you from his spot right in front of your knees. “It’s so fucking cool... and scary as shit. And hot.”

Still, Adrian disinfects the wound with steady but gentle hands, bandaging it again with clean gauze. Every touch is delicate, every movement calculated. His closeness, his scent, his gaze, the soft expression on his face... everything blurs your mind and leaves you dizzy.

You feel vulnerable, but strangely safe by his side.

When he finish, his hands go down to your knees and linger there. The sheer heaviness of his touch and the way he looks at you as he kneels in front of you makes you gulp.

At that moment, you just know that his feelings for you are real. He really likes you. And he had put himself in danger to protect you.

A cold fear ran through you as you thought about what could have happened.

Suddenly, you realize you don't want to live in a world where you couldn't hear his off-key singing or his comments about birds.

“There you go,” he finishes treating your wound with a smile, his fingers caressing your collarbone before he pulls away from you.

Driven by a feeling you've never experienced before and profiting from his closeness, you take his chin in one hand, look him straight in the eyes, and kiss him.

Surprised, he just stands very still for a moment, then closes his eyes and kisses you back with a passion that makes you feel like you had never kissed anyone in your life.

Adrian kisses you as if he had been waiting and dreaming for this moment his whole lifetime.

When you separate from each other, Adrian's breathing is heavy, and yours isn't much better.

His thumbs caress your cheeks and his eyes drifts down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, with a silent question. He don't need to say it out loud really.

Adrian leans up again, close to you, this time deliberately slowly, his lips brush yours, his nose affectionately caressing yours, before deepening the kiss.

His kiss is hungrier now, more desperate. His hands moves from your cheeks to your waist, barely lifting himself up a little so he could be closer to you.

Both of you know it.

It isn't just a kiss; it is a declaration, a release of all the tension that had built up between you through all this time.

“This is only because you saved my life,” you whisper in between kisses, attempting to convince yourself more than him.

Adrian is ecstatic, kissing you as if there were no tomorrow, hungry and desperate, like a lion that had just been released from a cage.

A smile curved his lips, reddened from so many kisses, murmuring against your mouth, “I'll save you every fucking day then, if this is how you'll repay me.”

You try to suppress a smirk, your arms around his neck pulling him up, closer to you. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Shut me up,” he challenges you.

And you shut him up with a kiss, letting yourself be carried away by the thrill of the moment and your instincts, your body acting on its own, controlled by a carnal desire that you had tried so hard to suppress.

Until now.

“Let's go to my room.”

Adrian obeys instantly, picking you up as he stands up and carrying you to your room, without even taking his mouth off yours. It is the perfect excuse to press you against him, his hands running over your thighs and backside, grinding against you with every step he takes.

“Can I touch you everywhere?” he asks, desperate and pleading, detaching himself from you for just a moment, his hands holding you under your thighs, pressing you against him and making you feel the prominent bulge in his crotch.

“I thought you already are,” you reply, panting for air, your hands around his neck, your fingers lacing through his hair.

His voice lowers sheepishly, very uncharacteristically in him, “I'm a gentleman. Consent is very important.”

You offer him a little sincere smile, kissing him again, “Yes, Adrian. You can touch me everywhere.”

He gently lays you down on the bed, positioning himself directly above you, his lips moving down your jawline, pressing a wet trail of kisses across your neck.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses against your skin, right after placing a love bite near the junction of your neck and shoulder—the one uninjured. “You don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of having you just like this.”

His mouth suck, his teeth nibble, his lips press kisses, claiming your skin as his own.

“You feel much better than any dream.”

“Adrian,” you moan out his name, arching your back as you feel his mouth reach your collarbone.

He pauses for a moment, lifting his head to look at you, allowing you to see his fully dilated pupils. “Can I take this off?”

You nod instantly, biting your lower lip.

His hands settle on the fabric of your suit on your chest, frantically opening it and tearing it apart, always careful not to cause further damage to your wound.

That makes you gasp.

“Adrian!” you disapprovingly shout his name.

But he is mesmerized by your tits, which bounce free once he ripped your suit open, your nipples perking up at the feel of the cool air in the room.

“Motherfucker,” he curses, leaning down further to kiss one of your breasts, making you sigh. “You're not wearing a bra under this suit?”

“No panties either,” you confess with a hiss, closing your eyes when you feel his wet tongue leisurely flick one of your nipples.

“You're such a freak,” he whispers against your skin, mesmerized. “You act like a good girl, but you're so bad, hm? You do bad things like this and still act like little Miss Perfect.”

You bite down on your lower lip, holding back a moan as he sucks on the nipple, his fingers playing with the other, giving both of your tits his undivided attention.

“Adrian...”

“If you keep saying my fucking name like that, I'm gonna cum,” he rasps against the warm skin between your breasts, moistening it with his saliva. 

He begins to descend further through your body, kissing your stomach, marking your skin with kisses, bites, and hickies. He is opening your suit as he roams your body, igniting your skin and sending shivers throughout your spine.

Adrian pulls your ruined suit down over your legs so he could remove it completely, taking advantage of the opportunity to kiss your knees and ankles before moving back up.

“Did you know this would happen?” he asks against the skin of your inner thigh, forcing your legs apart when you try to close them, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the way he looks down at you, adoringly. “Or you'd go for someone else?”

You try to smile through all the desire, offering him a crooked, lazy smile, “Don't be jealous.”

He gaze at you with eyes hazy with desire as he pulls himself up and begins to take off his suit with trembling, clumsy fingers.

“I'm not fucking jealous,” he mumbles, watching the way your eyes drift down his body, passing over the width of his shoulders, his pecs, his abs. 

“You're staring,” then he remarks the obvious, trying to conceal the way he puff out his chest to look even bigger. With the movement, a silver chain hanging around his neck shimmered under the dim light of the room.

“So are you,” you snap back in a broken whisper, feeling your cheeks flush. 

And of course you are cheking him out.

He is fucking ripped. 

And so big that even his bulge under the fabric of his white briefs looked massive once he strips off the lower part of his suit.

He is so hard that it looks painful.

So what you had been hearing was real, so fucking real.

“Can I eat you out?” Still, he asks, eager to make you feel good, as he shook his head, causing a couple of curls to fall messily across his forehead. “You're so fucking beautiful, holy shit. I need to taste you or I'll actually have a stroke.”

Adrian return to his position between your legs, his hands delicately caressing your thighs as he waits patiently for your response, your consent.

You look down at him with half-closed eyes, your head clouded by the desire to reach any kind of pleasure.

He is carefully placing your legs on his shoulders, staring in awe at your pussy, dripping wet and so ready for him, when you click your tongue, “Can you stop talking and just get to it, Chase?” 

“So mean even when I got you fucking-- dripping for me,” he quietly says, looking up at you once more just before nestling between your legs and leaning close to your cunt, his warm breath and the raspy tone of his voice makes you clench around nothing. And he just gawked, smiling as joyfully as if he were standing at the gates of heaven, wide open for him, “Pussy is so pretty too, look at her— fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby"

The pet name makes you swoon and fucking fold. 

“Adrian—” 

Your voice chokes off as you feel his tongue trace your slit, scooping up all the arousal that is leaking out of your hole and savoring it as if it were the most delicious meal he had ever tasted in his entire life.

The sounds of his mouth slurping and licking your pussy flood the room, so filthy and messy that it makes you feel a heat wave from head to toe.

You can't control the way your body yields to him, as if your whole life had been longing just for this moment, as if tailor-made for him.

A righteous and sloppy suck on your clit has you promptly reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess.

One of your hands lands on his head, fingers sinking into his curly locks and pulling them, drawing a hoarse groan from deep within his throat.

The vibration against your cunt has you rolling your eyes back.

“You smell so good,” he hums into your splashing pussy, which is throbbing harder and faster, your heartbeat pulsing right against his lips. He can feel it. “Cum on my tongue, baby. I want to drink everything this pretty pussy has to give me—”

But your hand on his head tugs him back, detaching him from your clenching hole.

He looks up from between your legs with squinted eyes, his lips, drenched with your own arousal, curl into a pout.

He looks so pussy drunk and pathetic for you that you could cum just by watching him looking like that.

“Oh, baby, don’t be mean now—”

You interrupt him, your thumb lazily stroking curls away from his forehead, “I want to cum around your dick, Adrian.”

Your words leave him dumbstruck for a few seconds. And the next second, he's peeling off his briefs as fast as a flash, and the next he's climbing on top of you, nice and slow.

He leans down to kiss you, preventing you from staring in awe at his dick, now held in his own hand, so hard and angry red that it has you drooling, “Holy motherfuck, that has to be the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my entire fucking life.”

“Put it in, Adrian,” you whine, begging for him, squeezing your eyes closed and arching your back for him, looking for any kind of friction that helps you gett off, “Please, baby—”

The pet name rolls off your tongue so naturally, lace with so much pleasure and warmth that it had an immediate effect on Adrian, who fucking whimpers, kissing your lips sloppily.

Even so, he has the strength to stop and look you in the eyes, all flustered, “I didn't bring any condoms— fuck”

“No? Why?” you ask in a choked, whiny voice.

He looks at you with a face that conveys puzzlement and hopelessness, “Because I’m on patrol. I’m supposed to be fighting, not fucking—”

You interrupt him again, kissing him once more and staring straight into his eyes, “Fuck me raw, Adrian. I don't care. But fuck me now.”

And he can actually feel himself melting against your body, you can sense how he's trembling right under your fingertips, squeezing his shoulders as he presses his forehead against yours.

He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your skin, pumping himself as he lines up the plump tip of his cock at your entrance, teasing it along the wet folds.

“I'll be gentle,” he promises, breathing shakily, though his hips tremble as if he might lose control at any second.

“Don't be,” you correct him, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. “Fuck me. Hard.”

The growl he lets out when he hears you has something animalistic, primitive about it. Adrian finally pushes himself inside you with a slow but powerful movement,deeply carving a way into you.

“God, you're so tight...” he cries out, his eyes tightly shut, as if the pleasure is too much to process. He's only halfway inside your squeezing pussy. “So fucking warm— I'm gonna cum, damn it—”

“Don't even think about it,” you cut him off, digging your nails into his shoulders to force him to open his eyes and look at you. “Hold it for me, yeah?”

Your words set him on fire. Adrian begins to move, erratically at first, then with more force, each thrust slamming you against the bed. You you scratch his back, pull his hair, grasping any part of him you can hold on to, as the wet sound and rhythmic thrusts fill the room.

“So pretty...” he hiss in a broken voice, choking on his own whimpers and kissing you between each word, his hungry mouth tracing your neck and jaw, drooling on your skin. “So pretty for me— fuck, sweetheart.”

He's so dizzy with you, overwhelmed that everything is you, everything around him. Adrian is in love, thrusting into you with a force that makes you gasp, moving with raw desperation, as if his whole world depended on making you feel good. Your moans mingle with his panting, with the dull thuds of his skin against yours, with the creaking of the poor bed shaking under you.

Your legs squeeze him closer to you, trapping him inside, and when your nails dig into his back, Adrian almost splits the air in two with his broken moans.

“Can I— Can I cum n-now?” he asks like the good boy he is.

“Do it,” you whisper, already losing yourself on the edge of climax. “Cum for me, baby”

“W-where?”

“Inside,” you whine, frantically gasping for breath, feeling like the world is shrinking and slipping away from you with every thrust Adrian pushes into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot over and over. “Mhm! --Fill me up”

The rhythm becomes wild and brutal until your orgasm overwhelms you, making you cry out his name against his mouth. Your walls squeeze him tightly and Adrian can't hold back any longer, spilling inside you with an agonizing moan, torn apart by pleasure.

The sounds of your two fluids mixing inside you are so obscene that they make you tremble.

Adrian stays right there, trembling, and still cumming inside you, twitching occasionally, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing as if you had been running for your lives.

“Holy fuck, babe,” he groans, cracking his eyes open to look at you, a goofy, lazy smile curving his lips. “We made a fucking mess.”

Very carefully, he pulls out of you and your pussy squelches, gaping and oozing with your mixed cums.

“Look at that” he coos, lifting himself slightly off you so he can look down, gazing at your abused pussy in awe.

“Adrian—”

Too late, he already has one hand reaching down between your bodies, swiping his index finger through your folds, scooping up the fluids and plunging them back into your cunt, making you pant from the overstimulation.

When he makes sure that not a single drop of his cum is wasted outside of you, he brings his hand back up, holding it to his mouth to savor the remains left on his finger, making eye contact with you as he sucks his index finger.

“Delicious” he delights, leaning down to kiss you, making you savor the mixture of the two of you together through his lips.

“You're so weird,” you whisper against his mouth, kissing him again.

Adrian flops down next to you on the bed, letting out a sigh he had been holding in his lungs.

“And yet my cum is still inside you,” he replies, smiling contentedly. His smile suddenly fades, as if he's come back to reality. “Wait, can you get pregnant from this?”

You snort softly at his worried face, your hand gently brushing his still-flushed cheek.

“People usually get pregnant like this,” he nuzzles close to your caress, looking at you in awe as you talk. “That’s why you have to go to the pharmacy and buy me the Plan B pill.”

“Did you know that swans mate for life?” he asks afterwards, out of fucking nowhere, pressing a soft kiss on your fingers cradling his cheek as he snuggles closer to you. “And that they die of love if their partner dies?”

“What’s your point?” you inquire back, looking at him with curious, gentle eyes.

It's the first time you are showing genuine interest in his bird facts. And he is so happy he could burst with excitement.

“We're like swans, babe,” Adrian replies in an obvious tone, affectionately intertwining his feet with yours. “Well, at least I feel like a swan. If you left me after this, I'd kill myself.”

[suiheisen]

let me hit it (as a bonding activity) PEACEMAKER

[residentsuperhero]

no fool for discretion

synopsis: Sometimes, dating Adrian Chase means sneaking through basement windows because he really wants you to see his secret basement and really doesn't want you to meet his mom.

gif by @/chaseadrian

pairing: adrian chase x reader tags: 18+!, smut, established relationship, (protected) sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, humor, fluff, quiet sex, hand gagging, mild sensory deprivation, not fully sub or fully dom adrian but a secret third thing, overstimulation, biting word count: 5.8k notes: brought to you by this request! title from the song "big dumb sex" by soundgarden which I firmly believe Adrian would like because it reminds him of all the glam metal songs about sex that Peacemaker likes but it has none of the subtext.

“Honestly, I’m kind of looking forward to meeting your mom!”

Adrian slammed on the brakes so hard you had to brace your hand against the dashboard, your seatbelt cutting tight across your skin. His eyes were wide, a grimace of pure panic on his lips.

“You can’t meet my mom!”

You blinked back at him. “Sorry?”

“There’s no fucking way you’re meeting my mom,” he said again, his tone firmer this time, but not any more elucidating than the last outburst. 

“I don’t understand. Aren’t we going to your house?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“A house you live in with your mother?”

“Also yes.”

“Is she home?”

“Probably!”

“But I can’t meet her?”

“Fuck no!”

You stared back at your boyfriend who looked like he might throw up at any second. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. A blaring horn behind you made you nearly jump out of your skin, and when you looked in the rearview there was a line of cars held up behind you. Right. Because Adrian had stopped in the middle of a busy road. Adrian, however, suddenly no longer seemed to be in a rush to get home.

You put your hand on his forearm. “Ade, you gotta drive.”

“Okay,” he managed, voice a ragged whisper. He pried his foot off the gas and then proceeded to drive a blazing 25mph the entire rest of the way. You waited until the Seabring was parked on a cute, tree-lined neighborhood street to speak again.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m a little offended you don’t want me to meet your mom,” you said finally. Adrian laughed, doubling over so sharply you were afraid he was going to smack his face on the steering wheel.

“She’s the one who should be offended. She’s a total fucking bitch and I don’t want you to meet her because I don’t want her to, like, get her stupidness all over you.”

“Babe…” you breathed. “Respectfully, what the fuck?”

Adrian raked his hands over his face. “You don’t get it.”

“Okay. You’re right. I don’t think I get it,” you agreed. You laid a hand on his arm. “But, clearly it’s stressing you out. So, decision made, easy peasy!”

Adrian peeked at you from behind his hands. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! Although…” you hesitated to ask because you could only imagine you weren’t going to like the answer. “How are we going to get in without your mom finding out?”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumbled, wiggling in his grasp. “Your hand is so far up my ass I’m starting to feel like a puppet.”

“Just let go of the window sill!” Adrian hissed. “I’ve got you, I’m not going to let you fall.”

You groaned and finally relented, knowing for a fact that Adrian did not have you. But the boy was going to have to learn his lesson the hard way, you supposed. The two of you fell into a tangled heap, your elbow landing squarely in his ribs, his knee striking against your hip in a surge of pain, your forehead colliding with his chin.

“Ow fuck – ow, ow, fucking hell, Adrian,” you grumbled, trying to gain any sort of leverage, but your hands were sinking into some sort of fabric over and over again on either side of Adrian while he tried to get his hands in between you, making sure you weren’t injured.

“Sorry! Sorry, are you okay? Are you alright? Speak so I know you’re not concussed!” Adrian said, scrambling. You rolled your eyes and batted his hand away.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “That is not how you check for a concussion, by the way.”

“What…what is this?” you asked. Whatever it was groaned under your weight as you struggled to your knees. “Is this a futon? Why do you have a futon in your basement?”

You climbed off of him with a bit of difficulty before you turned your attention towards the rest of the basement. “What the f – ”

Adrian clapped a hand over your mouth from behind. He was blazingly warm against your back, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist like he was afraid you were going to run. You swayed slightly in his arms as you regained steady footing, your balance entirely thrown off by his sudden seizure of you. You nipped at his palm gently and he let you go. You turned to find his wide eyes focused on his slightly wet palm.

“Care to explain the drugs, Adrian?” you asked, this time managing to keep a lid on your volume.

He simply shrugged. “What do you mean? Where else would I put it?”

“Where did this all come from?” you asked, turning to look at it all again – pallets of drugs (was that fucking cocaine?) and what had to be millions of dollars, carefully banded and stacked in various places. You reached out to run your hand across the money but Adrian batted your hand away.

“That’s blood money, don’t touch it!”

“Where did all this come from, Adrian?”

“What, you think I’d just leave drugs and cash at crime scenes where anyone could take it? Like corrupt fucking police? Absolutely not,” he asserted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t believe you think I should let the cops have all this.”

“I never said that, Adrian!” you exclaimed. “First and foremost, fuck the police – ”

“Fuck the police,” Adrian agreed with a thoughtful nod. 

“Secondly! I just can’t believe you never told me about this! I thought that we tell each other everything? I mean, you told me you were Vigilante on our first date.”

“Second date.”

“Adrian, we’ve been over this, having sex after a first date does not count as a second date.”

“Agree to disagree.” He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “And it’s not my fault your pussy is like my personal truth serum.”

“Adrian…”

His face contorted. “What, is that a weird thing to say?”

“It’s not really a normal thing…” 

“Whatever,” he pouted. “You don’t get it.”

“Come on, Ade, you were so excited to show me your basement. So give me the grand tour.”

“Fine,” he huffed. He crossed to a workbench and gestured at it vaguely. “These are my power tools. Over there is my wall of chemicals. Tour concluded.”

“Adrian,” you groaned.

“What?” he snipped. “You wanted the tour – there it is!”

“I cannot believe you made me shimmy through a window for that.”

“Yeah, well, sorry it’s disappointing.” It was said in a way in which you knew he was not sorry at all. He was being petulant. 

“It’s not disappointing, it's just…a lot for me to take in. I’m very interested in it!”

“Uh huh,” Adrian mumbled, mindlessly thumbing through what appeared to be a box full of pocket knives?

Well, you could be petulant too.

“Fine!” you proclaimed, hands on your hips. Adrian rolled his eyes and you bit back a grin before climbing up onto the futon. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back out the window,” you explained with a nonchalant glance over your shoulder at him. He was looking up at you with those big eyes of his and you almost caved instantly. It would be so easy to climb down, wrap your arms around him, kiss the grumpiness right off of his handsome face. But you liked teasing him so much more. 

So you stretched up, desperately trying to hook your fingers into the windowsill that was just out of reach.

“You’re not going to be able to reach that,” Adrian said matter-of-factly.

“Watch me,” you countered, wedging your tongue between your teeth as you tried to will yourself taller out of pure spite. 

“Do you think you’re magically going to get taller or…?” Adrian asked like he could read your goddamn mind.

“Be quiet, Adrian, I’m concentrating,” you snipped back. You rolled up onto your tiptoes but the physics of standing on a soft surface made that change negligible. You dropped your arms down with a huff and jumped off the futon.

“Okay, I’m using the door!” 

“What?” Adrian gasped, lunging for you as you feinted towards the basement door. You laughed in delight as he grabbed you by the waist and yanked you backwards onto the futon, pinning you beneath him.

“Oh no! You caught me!” you wheezed out, all the air knocked out of your lungs.

Adrian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Were you really going to go out the door?”

“Well, well, look at the situation we find ourselves in,” you commented drily, ignoring the question, batting your eyelashes at Adrian. 

“If you don’t answer my questions just know I know a lot of really effective torture techniques,” Adrian said lowly, a familiar hunger already creeping into his expression. You ran your fingers through his curls, dragging your nails against his scalp. “Are you trying to distract me?” 

“Me? Never,” you murmured. He shivered against you and you gave his hair a testing pull. His mouth dropped open slightly and you took the opportunity to sweep your tongue across his lower lip. He whimpered into your mouth as his hips rolled against yours instinctively. 

“Someone’s eager,” you assessed, grasping at his shirt and trying to untuck it from his jeans. “What did it, the puppet thing? Threatening to torture me? Tackling me onto your weird sex futon?”

“It is not a weird sex futon! Just a regular futon!” Adrian laughed against your neck and then winced. “Stop making me laugh, I can feel it in my dick.”

You hooked a leg over his hip. “Then maybe you ought to do something with that dick of yours.”

“I really want to have sex with you right now,” Adrian began.

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming – ”

“Butts can’t come,” Adrian snickered. Then he shook his head like a hapless puppy, his curls tossing about. God he was such a dork sometimes. But he was your dork. “Though, I do sometimes feel like I could come just by looking at yours.”

You narrowed your gaze at him despite how adorably stupid he was being. “Just say it, Adrian. Why can’t we have sex right now?”

“The thing is…you’re kind of loud?” Adrian said with a wince. Then his eyebrows lifted. “And I love that about you. I love how loud you are. I love thinking about how if we lived in Metropolis Superman for sure would have heard us having sex and he’d be so fucking jealous. Thinking about it right now actually is making me, uh, a little hard – ”

“Adrian!”

“I’m just being honest!” he huffed. You decided not to comment on exactly who was the loud one in the relationship because you knew he would take it as a challenge and you liked hearing all the little pathetic sounds he’d make. He pushed his glasses up his nose only for them to slide right back down again as he looked down at you. “My mom cannot hear us.”

You nodded slightly. “I understand that that might be embarrassing for you. We don’t have to.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be embarrassed!” he said, eyes wide. “I just don’t want her to know you’re here. Because if she hears us then she’ll ask who you are, and then she’ll want to know how we met and if we want snacks and if you’re staying for dinner and it’s a whole fucking thing.”

“Ade, that sounds very normal.” You propped yourself up slightly on your elbows. You hooked a finger into the collar of his rugby shirt. “What if I promise to be quieter than a church mouse?”

“What does that mean? I don’t really have a reference point for how quiet that is?” he replied, his tone tinged with the beginnings of a classic Adrian spiral. “On a scale of like 1 to 10 where 1 is – ”

You interrupted him with a kiss, your tongue wasting no time dipping into his already open mouth. He came alive, wriggling against you, hands grabbing hold of your biceps, grip tight, muscles taut and somewhere between pushing you away and pulling you even closer.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he murmured against your lips. 

“It’s just an expression, love,” you replied, leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose. Then you narrowed your gaze slightly, squinting to study the color of his eyes up so close. In the dark basement his pupils threatened to swallow the dark green whole. Well, the darkness and your hand that had slipped below the waist of his jeans probably had something to do with it too. 

“How about if I get too loud then you just put your hand here,” you instructed, bringing his hand over your mouth and pressing it firmly. 

“Okay,” Adrian said, practically drooling. “I think I can do that.”

“Well then, problem solved!”

You were working to shimmy his jeans down slightly when he grabbed you by the wrist. 

“I wanna go down on you,” he breathed.

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Okay. We can do both things…unless you’re in a rush for some reason?”

“It’s just that if you keep touching my dick like that I’m going to come in my pants, and I really want to put it in you,” he said, practically a whisper. There was absolutely zero reason for that sentence to be as hot as it was.

“Why is it that you seem like you’re begging every single time even though we’ve had sex a lot, Adrian,” you teased gently, brushing a stray curl out of his face. 

“What if you change your mind, hm?” Adrian asked, dipping his head so you could scratch your fingers across his scalp. “What if one day you wake up and you’re like, oh gosh, I never want to have sex with that weirdo ever again?”

“First of all, being a weirdo is strangely part of your charm,” you replied, pausing to kiss his forehead. “Second of all, I do think you’ve ruined me for life. You dick game is incomprehensibly good and you’ve literally made me go temporarily blind with your head between my legs. I don’t want to have sex with anyone but you.”

“Not even Peacemaker? Because I really couldn’t blame you if you did want to have sex with him. Trust me, I get it, he’s kind of a perfect human man,” Adrian insisted like he was rationalizing in an argument he was having with only himself. His lips pursed. “Although he is kind of all hard edges so having sex with him is kinda sharp which you might not like.”

You were already reaching between the two of you to undo your button-down shirt. 

“Not even Peacemaker,” you affirmed. Adrian seemed to wrestle against his own grin, both pleased as punch that you didn’t want to have sex with anyone but him, and also a bit insulted that you didn’t want to have sex with his favorite person in the world. 

Tugging your shirt open, you guided his hands up to the front clasp of your bra and used his fingers to flick it open. Whatever logic war was raging in his brain was struck silent by the sight of your breasts. Maybe it was an unfair hand to play, but you wanted your boyfriend to stop thinking about his best friend and start thinking a little more about fucking you senseless. 

He wasted no time taking each of your nipples into his mouth in turn, because, as always, he insisted it was only fair for them both to get the same amount of attention. Though you’d never asked, you were fairly certain Adrian had been the type of kid to make sure each toy got the same amount of playtime so that no one toy felt left out.

He swapped his mouth for his hand on your chest and kissed his way down the rest of your body. He deftly yanked your pants and underwear down, kissing the inside of your knees as he peeled them the rest of the way off your body. In his eagerness to get down between your legs he scooted down the futon, his boot kicked one of the metal shelves behind him. The whole unit swayed slightly, the metal ringing out in a resonant sound. 

“Adrian?” A woman’s voice called from upstairs. You froze, but Adrian wasn’t deterred. “Are you down there, sweetie?”

Adrian’s mouth was decidedly preoccupied between your legs so he didn’t answer – it was a good thing, because it probably would have involved some absolutely blatant response about the fact that he was, in fact, down there. You pushed at his head but he only looked up at you with a hungry glint in his eyes as he dragged his tongue through your folds, painfully slowly. You hissed in response and he moved his hips slightly against the futon, settling in for a hearty meal. When Adrian ate you out it was almost always multiple courses, a real fine dining experience. 

He hadn’t even put his fingers in you yet – just used one hand to spread you open wider for him while the other still played with your breasts, alternating between them, pinching and palming and scratching. His face was pressed so firmly between your legs, his tongue so deep into you you wondered if he was trying to eat his way to your heart. 

“Jesus, Adrian!” you whispered, your heel kicking at his hip, trying to get him to ease up a little. But he was hyper focused, like he was speedrunning his way to your orgasm. He moved, wrapping his arms around your thighs, pinning your hips down as they tried to wriggle away from him for just a little reprieve. 

You heard footsteps on the stairs and you dug your heels into the futon, trying to pry yourself loose from his perfect, stupid fucking mouth. Instead, he traced his teeth over your sensitive clit and you came hard suddenly. You clapped your own hand over your mouth and Adrian batted it away. You managed to stay quiet, the only sound your own ragged breath in the quiet of the basement and the wet, obscene noise of Adrian’s mouth against you.

Except Adrian continued his ministrations between your legs, letting up with his mouth only to look up at you and grin while he slowly slid two fingers into you. He had that calculated look in his eye again and you knew he was studying you. He liked knowing exactly how each movement, each touch affected you. He crooked his fingers inside you, watching closely as you bit down hard on your lower lip in a desperate bid to stay quiet.

He was doing it on purpose. He wanted an excuse. 

You hated giving him what he wanted so easily when he was being a menace but you could taste your own blood on your tongue and he used his other hand to rub at your clit while he kissed your hip bone. A noise squeaked out past your lips and Adrian’s grin grew into a full fledged smile, the kind where you could see all his teeth. The kind that was both predatory and full of genuine delight. 

He moved his fingers faster, pushed deeper, bit hard at your hip, bruising the skin. You fumbled for his head but you could barely see straight. You managed to pull a fistfull of hair but it only made him giggle before he lapped at your cunt and made you come undone all over again. 

“Adrian!” you hissed through the rheumy film of your orgasm. Adrian pulled his fingers free and popped them straight into his mouth and pure, wet want flooded your own. 

“Adrian?” There was a knock at the basement door. You clapped your hands over your burning face but Adrian just seemed annoyed.

“Fuck off, mom!” he called, sliding his way up your body to bite at the sensitive spot below your ear. He loosely pressed his hand over your lips and you weren’t sure if you were grateful or pissed. When the friction of his jeans between your legs almost made you sob against his hand, you settled on grateful. 

“Do you have a friend in there with you?” his mom asked. “Should I make some snacks?”

“Jesus fucking – no, mom!” he whined, even as he rolled his hips against you. He grabbed at your breast with his free hand again and you bit his hand in retaliation. 

“Ow!” 

“Are you okay, honey? Please tell me you’re not giving yourself stitches in there again!” his mom continued. She seemed kind of sweet – what the hell was Adrian’s deal?

“Your mom seems nice,” you managed, free of his hand. 

“Stop getting ideas, I can see you getting an idea right now!” Adrian protested, pinning your hands above your head and silencing your mouth with a kiss.

“Adrian, hon, who are you talking to? Is that…is that a girl in there?” His mother’s voice noticeably ascended the scale in pitch and Adrian swallowed your laugh, your shoulders shaking silently. 

“I’m talking to my bros in the Fortnite lobby, Jesus fucking Christ! Can you hop off my dick for like five seconds, please?” Adrian shouted back, pulling away from your mouth, making you unacceptably hungry. When he returned to you, you bit his lip in recompense. He hissed but surged forward anyway, his tongue deep in your mouth. 

“Okay, Addy, you just let me know if you need anything! Just holler! I’ll be upstairs!”

You waited for the sound of footsteps retreating back up the stairs to pull back.

“So, I’m one of the bros now?” you taunted.

“Well, you’re better than one of the bros. You’re like…you’re my best bro. A bro for life. But, like, in a romantic way, a romantic bro,” he explained. You nodded like that made sense. Because, strangely, it did.

“So…Addy?” 

“Please don’t – ”

“It’s kinda cute!”

“No, it makes me sound like a fucking infant. And I’m not an infant. I’m a grown man.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten, Ade. As a matter of fact…”

Your hand slid in between you, grasping at him through his pants. He was, unsurprisingly, already completely hard. He hissed through his teeth and then wrangled himself out of his rugby shirt, treating you to a spectacular view of his chest. A thin sheen of sweat covered him in a way that made him look unfairly hot – like the centerfold in a magazine of hot nerds. You ran your hand up from the waist of his pants to the small, pale trail of hair just above and let your fingertips press firmly into the skin of his stomach. His gaze narrowed at you.

“Flip over,” he whispered, voice husky.

“Make me,” you whispered back. Adrian blinked back at you for just a moment before he slipped his hands around your waist and tossed you onto your stomach like it was no effort at all. He reached up and stripped you of the button down and the bra that still clung to your shoulders. His fingertips bit into the swell of your ass but then he paused.

“Sorry, was that okay?” he asked, sounding breathless in a nervous way. You looked back at him and offered a calm smile.

“That was perfect,” you assured him. “You’re perfect.”

“Okay, because if you want to fuck some other way that’s totally okay too, I just thought – ”

“Oh no, not you fucking me while I’m laying on my stomach! Whatever will I do!” you drawled sarcastically as you started to twist in his arms, bringing the back of your hand up to your forehead like some scandalized, vaguely transatlantic woman. Then you paused and blinked at him. “That was sarcasm by the way.”

“Uh, duh, I totally knew that because you love when I fuck you like that! It’s like one of your favorite things. Remember that time we prone-boned and you like totally ruined your sheets?”

“Oh my god, Adrian,” you whined, your hands flying up to cover your increasingly red face. 

“What! It’s just a statement of fact. And a statement of hotness.”

You finished flipping onto your stomach if only to bury your burning face in the futon. Adrian’s hand ran along your damp inner thigh for a moment before he nudged your leg up slightly, and pulled your hips up and flush against his. 

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, and not in the good way. You lifted your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if I have a condom?”

“You have a fucking arsenal down here but not a single condom?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve ever had a girl down here before!”

“Aw, is that your roundabout way of saying I’m special?” you asked, batting your eyelashes. But Adrian was too preoccupied scrounging around for a condom. He was so cute doing it you were loathe to tell him all he had to do was open your purse. The man was desperate for it and you were willing to torment him just a little bit – he would be handsomely rewarded for it in the end. 

“Hey Ade?”

“Hold on, I’m sure there’s one here somewhere!” He yanked another drawer open, violently rattling whatever was inside. He slammed a cabinet open to no avail. You started to feel bad, even if you were getting a great view of his impressive physical form in the process. 

“Adrian!” you called, louder this time to get through to him over the small ruckus he was making, but hopefully still quiet enough to not rouse his mother’s suspicions again. Finally, he turned and looked at you dangling a condom from your fingertips. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said breathlessly. “No, seriously, I wish I could paint you Titanic-style right now exactly like this.”

Adrian was on top of you again in the blink of an eye, teeth tearing at the foil of the condom and spitting it aside. You watched over your shoulder as he realized he still needed to take his pants off and was trying to figure out balancing the opened condom while he did that. You giggled and held out your hand for him to rest the condom on your palm. 

He tripped up off the couch, halfway out of his pants before he was even fully upright. He hopped on one foot as he desperately tried to free his other from the leg of his jeans, and you were treated to an increasingly silly whispered string of curses. 

When he was finally free he paused, putting his hands on his hips, his chest rising and falling quickly. 

You giggled. “Are you winded?”

“No!” Adrian said, full volume. Your eyes flicked to the ceiling of the basement, but Adrian’s mom seemed to have gotten the memo. “This is…I’m doing breathing exercises, actually. Gotta loosen up my diaphragm for optimal airflow so I can have so much sex with you.”

“Get over here, you absolute goober,” you replied with a beckoning crook of your finger. Adrian stooped beside you to retrieve the condom you were still holding and pressed a quick peck to your lips, upturned in an amused smile.

He settled back between your legs, kneeling on the futon as he rolled the condom on and you waited patiently with your chin in your hands. The feeling of his warm fingers back between your legs surprised you, dragging through your folds, gathering slick before sliding his hand over the condom. 

“Are you good? Are you comfy?” Adrian asked as he grabbed hold of your hips and angled them slightly upward. He positioned himself at your entrance, dragging the tip through your folds, but waited for your approval. You quietly hissed at the sensation.

“Please, Adrian,” you managed. That was approval enough for him – he wasn’t in one of his taunting moods, determined to draw it out forever to the point of insufferability. No, Adrian was borderline efficient. It was a mood he sometimes got into – careful, precise, skilled. He pushed in, a long, slow stretch of flesh, the warm weight of Adrian partially against your back, keeping you pressed into the futon. A hand groped at the flesh of your hip and he gently guided you into the position he needed.

And that made your eyes water, the perfect depth, the perfect speed, the perfect amount of pressure – a gasp dragged from your lips at the angle. Adrian knew what made you tick. You’d witnessed the man disassemble and reassemble a gun with alarming speed on more than one occasion, and he knew how to disassemble you just as easily. 

It took no time at all for pressure and warmth to mount between your legs. 

“Put your hand over my mouth,” you panted.

“What?”

“I don’t think that I can keep being quiet,” you said, voice ragged. As if attempting to prove you wrong, Adrian buried himself, deep and slow, and a yelp came from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“Right. Okay,” Adrian said in the kind of voice that sounded like he was processing a direct order. You tilted your head up slightly and Adrian dutifully cupped one hand over your mouth.

“Oh shit,” he managed. His fingers flexed against your skin as he thrust into you again, angling your hips ever so slightly once more, perfecting the position. Your needy hand slid under your body and Adrian groaned as your fingers touched at where your bodies were joined, fingers parting around the slick base of his cock for one taunting drag before retreating to your clit. Adrian’s pace faltered and you grinned into his hand. You nipped at his palm again but he stayed firmly in place and instead responded by draping himself further over your back, his weight pressing you further into the futon and your own eager fingers. 

You were close, close, closer as his fingers bit into your skin and you rubbed desperate circles at the apex of your thighs. You clenched around him and Adrian whined. 

“That’s not fair,” he hummed into your hair. He slowed for a frustrating moment and then his mouth was at your ear. “Can I try something?”

A million things raced through your mind – an electric series of possibilities, some of which perhaps bordered on terrifying. But you trusted Adrian. You loved him. Fucking you was a science at which he was studiously determined to excel. So, you nodded. And Adrian draped the full weight of himself on you, carefully, gently. And then he wrapped his other hand over your eyes, casting you into total darkness. 

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice low in his chest against your back, words that sounded equally like reassurance and threat. A loving adage and a declaration of total possession. Your body responded unconsciously, pushing back against his thrusting hips, terribly wanting. “I want you to come, just for me, okay?”

You made a noise, something wrenched from deep within, muffled expertly by Adrian’s capable hands. He dragged his tongue along the side of your neck and then his teeth nipped the skin. A jolt of pleasure ran down your spine. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out when Adrian was dragging himself in and out of you with a studied speed, burying deep every time, hitting that perfect spot. 

“’m close, are you…close,” Adrian slurred before biting at your jaw, his words barely coherent. 

“Mhm,” you spoke into his hand, sure you were probably drooling. You didn’t care. Adrian nudged your knee ever so slightly with his own, spreading you open just a bit more. But it was enough. In the total darkness of Adrian’s embrace, you crashed over the edge, a shout muffled into his hand. You breathed quickly through your nose, finding it significantly harder to catch your breath and Adrian chased you into bliss only a second later, a curse hissed through his clenched teeth, certainly too loud. His hand released your mouth as his forehead fell into the curve of your shoulder. His sweaty hair tickled at your chin and you turned, still blind, to clumsily press a kiss to his temple. 

“Well, that was new,” you remarked, still trying to catch your breath. In the darkness beneath Adrian’s hand, the edges of your vision sparked.

“Was it okay? Did you like it?”

“It was more than okay, babe,” you murmured assurance. That was Adrian – aiming to please, even when it came to dabbling in something like minor sensory deprivation.

After a long moment, his hand fell from your eyes to the futon with an audible thump and he slipped out of you, laying half on top of you and half wedged beside you on the futon.

“I feel like I don’t have any bones anymore,” he muttered. “You stole them. You’re a bone thief.”

“I’ll keep your bones safe in my bone collection. Promise,” you laughed breathlessly. He perked up slightly, lifting his head so he could look at your face. 

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes wide with puppydog-esque devotion.

“Yeah. You’ve got centerpiece level bones. Real main attraction stuff.”

He brushed your hair from your face, and then wiped your cheeks free of tears, thumb grazing across your lower lip, collecting any errant spit. He popped his thumb into his mouth and you recoiled.

“Adrian, gross!”

“Sorry I just want part of you in me,” he replied like you were the one being unreasonable.

You smirked at him and shifted so that you could slip on top of him, straddling his narrow waist. “Maybe it’s time we revisit that conversation about peg – ”

“Adrian?” 

Adrian’s mother’s voice came from directly outside the door. You clamped your mouth shut, looking down at Adrian with wide eyes. 

“What, mom?” he called back, rolling his eyes, his head falling back onto the futon. 

“Do you and your girlfriend want to come upstairs for dinner? I made a baked mac ‘n cheese with the breadcrumb topping you like so much!” 

“Girlfriend?” he scoffed, voice traitorously too high. “What girlfriend? You’re so crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, sweetie, Mrs. Peterson from across the street called and she said she saw you sneaking in through the basement window with a very pretty young lady!”

You had to laugh. There was simply no other choice. Adrian groaned and draped his arm over his face, treating you to a wonderful (very biteable) view of his bicep. “Fuck, I knew I always hated Mrs. Peterson. No trustworthy person has that many chihuahuas.”

When Adrian didn’t respond one way or the other to the evidence presented, his mother called out again, “Does the pretty young lady like mac ‘n cheese?”

You grinned down at Adrian who appeared to be going through the five stages of grief in quick succession. Luckily for him it was going to take a lot more than an overbearing mother to scare you off. If you could survive the Vigilante of it all, you could survive anything. You leaned down, bit Adrian’s bicep and then kissed his swollen lips before he could protest.

“The pretty young lady loves mac n’ cheese!” you called back.

adrian taglist: @countvonklit @tlfg-adrianchase @vigilantexreader @faelvz @a-young-g0d @euinein @fangirl48 @navs-bhat (as always, if you want to join my taglist, just let me know! respectfully, no minors! there are some people who have requested in the past and if you're a minor/I couldn't verify if you're over 18 you've been taken off, I'm sorry!)

[cherriielle]

they're calling them bestie material of the century....