—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.”
