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jangofctts · 2 years

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Sweetest Touch (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!reader) PART ONE

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (be neat, wrap that schmeat!), explicit language, doggy style, multiple orgasms, yall fuck in the van, grinding, cum play, a little hint of edging, mentions of voyeurism, mild verbal teasing/degradation, Adrian also has a praise kink agAIN, hickies/biting, mentions of blood/injury, violence and descriptions of murder, vaginal fingering, a LITTLE bit of anal fingering, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

a/n: ok HERE YALL GO THANK YOU SM FOR WAITING I KNOW IT TOOK A WHILE AHHHH. (also there is like hardly any plot and im sorry that the plot that I did write sucks so im ejhrkejhr)

He won’t quit staring.

Yes, he has his mask on but you can feel his eyes. Lurking, sitting right there across from you in the van. Like an itch on the back of your spine.

You don’t…really mind. You just, well you hate when people stare. Makes your skin crawl, and while you know Adrian’s gaze is all lovesick and puppy-eyed under that mask, it still gives you the heebie-jeebies.

Adrian has no qualms or guilt whatsoever when his attention is grabbed. Like one of those random babies you encounter on public transportation—thousand yard stare, all up in your business. What’s up with that? It’s fuckin’ weird.

Your knee bounces, Harcourt side eyes you. Just like the transportation babies, she too, is always up in your business. A brief spell of paranoia bites at your insides—there’s no way she’d know. No, no. That’d be crazy.

Not all suspicious—not even an inkling on the fact you spent nearly two whole days in Adrian Chase’s bed. That you were late for work, covered in the evidence of his affections and struggling to keep your head free of his goofy, dimpled smile. Motherfucker is the most touch starved guy you’ve ever encountered (not that you’re any better). Your attempts of scrubbing your mind clean failed—you have the blistered skin from leaving your hand too long on the espresso machine to prove it.

She leans close in order to be heard over the raging music of some older rock band you don’t recognize. “You’re twitchy today.”

You clench your jaw as she nudges your bad shoulder, still stitched up and horribly tender. “M’fine. I just don’t wanna run into Judomaster again.”

“I’m sure he won’t be a problem,” Adebayo chimes in. “At least for you—I don’t know about us. He just keeps popping up at the worst times.”

“Like a weed,” Adrian points out. “Why don’t we just step on him?”

Peacemaker throws up his hands. He aggressively points to himself. “Bro, I’ve tried—he’s a fucking cockroach. You spray him with Raid and he just gets even more invincible.” He leans back against the seat that’s far too little to hold the sheer mass of him. “There’s so much rage compacted into that little body—that can’t be healthy.”

“I’m going to stab him,” you mutter.

“Call that Judo-kebab,” Vigilante snickers.

Adebayo blinks and rubs at her temple. “We’re just checking out some intel. Should be easy enough.”

“Still need to keep our guard up,” Harcourt says. “We’re working with Butterflies here. Who knows how many numbers they got once we get there.”

Adebayo nods. “Which is why we need to work in pairs this time. Me and Harcourt, Mern and Economos—”

“Why the hell do I have to go in? I’m just the computer guy,” Economos whines from the front seat.

“Get over it, dye-beard.”

“Sick burn, man,” Adrian and Chris high-five.

“We need you to access whatever technology they have in there, John,” Mern explains.

Adebayo nods and then gestures to you. “Right. Ghost and Chris will then—”

“What? No! I’m not working with her, dude,” Chris says, crossing his arms and shrugging into himself. “She’s fucking creepy.”

Adebayo makes a noise of frustration and slaps her palm over her thigh as she’s once again interrupted.

You quirk your head.

“Don’t be rude, Chris,” Adebayo snorts. “Just because she can walk through walls doesn’t mean she’s scary.”

“And the whole invisibility thing—don’t forget that.” Economos adds. “And the time she ripped that dude’s heart out in Corto Maltese.”

“Bro, that’s fucking epic!” Adrian cheers, fisting pumping the air.

Your lips pull into a little smile.

The bright blue latex gloves squeak as Chris jabs an accusing finger at you. “She ripped a dude’s fucking heart out, Adebayo. That’s messed up.”

Adebayo rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. She holds up both her hands in defeat and shakes her head. “Fine—Vigilante—”

“Hell yeah! Dream team for the win!”

“All you’d be doing is securing the perimeter while we go in and deal with the Butterflies.”

Mern casts a brief, accusatory glance over his shoulder then returns his eyes to the road. “Nothing of the dramatic sort, please. It is only perimeter security. And no guns.”

“Aw,” Adrian pouts, slumping into his seat. “I’ll never get to rip someone’s heart out like Ghost did. Or kill a guy with a chainsaw. Totally unfair, man.”

It was pretty cool, you admit.

The rest of the plan and the team’s tactic is divulged once the van is parked on the edge of some fancy estate. The property is swaddled in dark trees, and hosts a singular, paved road leading to and from the house. Kinda boring, if you’re being honest.

The team runs through the plan once more, gearing up and then setting off towards the estate. And just like last time, you are left a lone with Adrian. The both of you split and cover the perimeter. Two guards circle they house—it’s easy to subdue them. After the area is secured, both you and Adrian rendezvous back at the van.

Blood is splattered over his chest plate. He wiggles his fingers in hello. “Long time no see, Ghostie! How many did you take out? I didn’t know if we were competing, but I just assumed, and—”

A bullet ricochets off the side of the van. You both duck, dodging for cover. How the fuck did you both miss these guys? “Goddamnit.”

At least it’s not Judomaster, thank fuck. Vigilante quirks his head, and taps your arm as you draw a shorthanded blade. Close range blade fights aren’t your forte, but you’ll make do. “Can I just say, before we slice these bitches up—you look absolutely stellar tonight.”

“Adrian—”

The workbook of a Butterfly dressed in a security officer’s suit steps around the tire of the truck. You launch yourself forward as Adrain rolls the other way to cover your flank. You disarm the gun and drive your knee into the man’s stomach. He crumples to one knee. You shove the blade through his skull—you wince beneath your mask. So messy—

Usually, when doing stealth operations, one knows exactly how many people they are up against—knows the exact locations and how not to get tied up in a situation like this. Oh, well.

Adrian fends off his assailant, sliding through their guard with practiced ease. Adrian’s cheery mood clashes with his deadly composure—it’s a game to him. It’s kinda…hot, in some weird screwed up way. “Hey, Ghost!”

“What?” You snarl, sidestepping the punch thrown at by yet another Butterfly. You snatch his wrist and yank outwards. Bones snap. “I’m busy.”

“You and I are like nachos with jalapeños,” Adrian announces over the sound of a body connecting with asphalt. “I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.”

Is this fucker really trying to use shitty pickup lines on you right now? You attention wavers. You turn your back to the open road and glare daggers through your mask, bloodied gloves curling into fists. This isn’t funny—you’re on a world-ending sensitve mission for—

“The sun might be shinning but nothing’s brighter than you, babe,” Adrian chirps, launching a throwing knife into the skull of an older man that appears on your left. He falls dead.

“Viggy, it is night,” you say tersely, brushing aside the fact he just saved your life. You’ll take the shame of it to your grave. Lucky bastard multitasks too well. A small bodied woman, a deputy by the looks of it, claws at your arm. You throw your boot into her stomach, block her hands reaching for her gun and dig the point of a throwing blade into the underside of her jaw.

“Sun’s a star—checkmate.”

You don’t even want to dispute his logic right now. You can’t really—the last enemy steps out from around the van. How nice of them to stagger their attacks for you, you think grimly.

You plant you feet and hold up your blade. It’s a big motherfucker—well above six foot and heavy, fists the size of Christmas hams, meaty face drawn into a furious rage. He drops his jaw and lets out an earsplitting roar. He charges.

Sometimes it’s nice being a freak of nature—you can just render yourself intangible in situations like this. The man passes right through you, stumbles and leaves his back open for attack. You thrust the point of your elbow into the back of his neck—it doesn’t do much—the neck rolls provide excellent armor. He gets a hand under your armpit and flings you backwards—you rolls away just in time to avoid his boot curb stomping your ass. Even as exhaustion begins to wear your splurge of energy out, you have speed to your advantage.

One false step and you swing one leg through his stance. The man stumbles forward, you throw your other leg around his neck and gator-roll him to the ground. He sputters for air, neck trapped between the muscles of your thighs. With one sharp movement and with the aide of your hands under his jaw, you break his neck. The Butterfly goes lax, you kick the body away as your lungs burn to recover oxygen.

Slow clapping fills the air.

You turn your head sharply. Adrian is propped against the van, one leg cross over the other, hip cocked out. “Beautiful performance. The blood is also a nice touch—Pollock vibes. Totally poggers.”

You rock to your feet, surveying the carnage laid out before you. Guilt and anger taste the same on your tongue—you can never remember which is meant to be virtuous. It doesn’t really matter, you figure. They aren’t people anymore…

“Some help would’ve been nice,” you snip, brushing off the excess dirt that sticks to your suit.

Adrian waves his hand in dismissal. “Pfft—nah. You totally had it covered, babe.”

Irritation flares under your skin. The heat and adrenaline of battle are a cross-stitch away from irascibility. “Don’t call me that.”

Vigilante pushes himself off the van and skips into your space bubble. “Or what? You gonna hit me?” He raises his hands and throws mock punches that barely tap your unwavering face. You grunt and bat away his hands.

“Seriously, layoff, man,” you bite, stepping away to create space. Adrian just steps right back into it. He’s pushing your buttons on purpose. Adrian snickers and reaches out, gloves fingers finding the edge of your mask. He lifts it up—you snap. “I’m going to kick your fucking ass.”

Adrian’s laugh is unhinged. He blocks your first punch and grunts as the second glances his side. “You’re going down, baby!”

“Oh yeah?” You hiss, drawing your fists up to your chin. You circle each other, waiting for the other to step or draw away like a practiced dance. “Wait ‘till I stick my tongue down your throat.”

“I’ll slap your butt so hard.”

This is, in all sense of the word, ridiculous. Curious how your irritation can flip at the drop of hat when it comes to Adrian. He moves first, striking with a kick first—you avoid it easily. Neither of you are trying to maim.

You lead Adrain to the back of the van and hook your hands under the handle. You wrench open the door. He curses as it collides into his face—knocking him flat onto his behind. You launch yourself into the van and spring to your feet. Adrian rubs the outline of his nose. “I’ve got the high ground, Adrian—you’ve lost.”

Adrian’s hand hooks around your ankle and yanks. You cry out and fall flat onto your back—Adrain pounces atop you, grunting as your heels kick into his hipbones. “I’m still winning—nice try though.”

Adrain surges forward, you twist and roll to your stomach. Why you thought crawling to escape him would work—you have no fucking clue. You wheeze as his knee digs into the back of your calf, one arm looping under your shoulder while the other drags your wrist and arm across your back. The joints and tendons prickle at the unnatural angles. You sigh and relax, conceding to your defeat. You could easily disappear—but what’s the fun in that? You’re not one to back out of a challenge.

Adrian’s breath comes out in short puffs. He laughs. He knows just as well as you do that you’re allowing him this control. The image of his smirk shines crystal clear in your mind. “You’re just horny, right? That’s why you’ve been so grouchy,” Adrian goads. “All worked up, huh, Ghostie?”

He’s an addiction—

Your mouth gravitates to the shape of his name every moment of the day, and yes, maybe whatever this is, is doomed for failure. A brilliant show of flames and fire, streaking across the sky, intertwined into the incandescence of a shooting star. You have never quite understood the kinesthetics of your own heart, how it twists and fires pure ache to the tips of your fingertips, and settles like a calcified bone within your chest. A conundrum neither of you can put your thumb on.

“Then do something about it,” you urge, wiggling in his grip. “This is your fault.”

Dancing through the air on wings spun from freedom and risk. There’s always a chance that when you reach for him, you will only find thinning oxygen instead of his hand. When it is your love that kills you, destruction is more lovely than that of the self.

His impish giggle causes your heart to flutter. “I always wanted to have car sex—or van sex—whatever.”

Adrian, still keeping your arm pinned against your back, hastily searches for the zipper to the front of your suit. Once he finds it, he roughly wrestles it down your legs enough to expose your lower half. “No panties? How scandalous.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “They’re uncomfortable with the suit.”

The metal flooring is frigid against your burning skin. Your body is pulled taught, veins still pumping with adrenaline—you hope Adrian will ignore the tremble in your limbs and the shaky inhales you draw into your lungs. Using his free hand, Adrian drags his gloved fingers down the outside of your thigh. Adrian mutters something filthy, muffled by his mask, as he skates his hand to the back of your thigh. His large hands spread over the muscle of your leg as his thumb slots right under the crease of where your asscheek meets your thigh.

“On God, you’ve got the fattest ass I’ve ever seen,” Adrian comments, sacrificing the hold on your pinned arm in favor of grabbing two handfuls of your ass. He squeezes hard enough to make you bite back a gasp. “I fucking love your suit—distracting though. I get rock hard if I look at you too long.”

It’s true. Your ass looks fantastic in the skin-tight material. Downside is, it doesn’t just attract Adrian’s wandering eyes. His thumb dips a bit lower and pulls the flesh of your inner thigh up, easily finding the marred skin in the shape of his teeth. It’s only been a couple days since he’s bitten you there—the marks will take weeks to fully disappear. You jolt as he presses his thumb into the bruise, a dull rush of tender nerves flooding out from the area. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Adrian’s praise earns him a quiet whine as you spread your knees even further, dropping your hips down until the front of his tented tactical pants press up tight against your aching pussy. You arch your back and slowly rock your hips back and forth. You don’t give a flying fuck that your arousal is soaking through Adrian’s pants, and neither does he.

“Shit,” you whisper, head tipping back while you drag your cunt against his pulsing erection. It takes a moment for your hazy thoughts to conclude that Adrian is rocking it commando style tonight too. Prick—it’s like he knew something like this would happen. Your more coherent thoughts melt away once more as Adrian’s hands briefly leave your body to yank off his gloves, landing by your sides. His hands, rough and warm return to their previous spot, kneading the globes of your ass. “I thought—thought you were a tits kinda man.”

Adrian hums in contemplation. You hear fabric rustle as he shrugs. “I’m a versatile guy—your tits are great, but hot damn,” Adrian whistles, “This view is hella sweet—it’s like Niagara Falls back here.”

“Adrian—” Your sharp hiss and urge to slap the shit out of him, dies upon your tongue as he runs two fingers from your throbbing clit to your aching cunt. You moan and crumple into his touch, devastated as his fingers leave as quick as they appeared. He’s right though—your arousal has already smeared over your lips and threatens to drip onto the floor.

Adrian snickers and leans his groin into your ass. “Sorry, what was that?”

Your heart slams against your sternum, your clit pulsing against the hard ridge of his cock. Fuck you crave relief. His hands over your ass, an inch away from your swollen pussy, are taunting to say the least. Like holding garden shears to the end of the tightrope of your pride and carnal need. Your stubbornness works as a barrier to your tongue—begging isn’t in your nature.

On hand digs into your hip, pulling your ass flush against his crotch while the line of Adrian’s body folds over yours. His visor clinks against the hard material of your own mask as nuzzles his head into the crook of your shoulder. “C’mon, Ghostie—the Scooby gang could come back any minute,” Adrian pauses for a moment, “unless…ohoho—you want to get caught? I don’t mind an audience.”

A rush of icy cold anxiety floods through your chest. Your gloved fingers clench into fists. Your reputation as a cold-hearted warrior would go straight down the drain. “No—fuck no.”

Adrian lifts off your back with a groan, sounding painfully aroused as his cock twitches against your clit. Two fingers, without warning, bury themselves into your soaking cunt without resistance. The air in your diaphragm is punched out of you as you grapple with the hot wave of pleasure surging through your body. Adrian buries his long fingers all the way down to his third knuckle then back out, slipping into a disgustingly slow pace that does nothing to satisfy. Adrian curses. “How’d you think they’d react seeing me balls deep in your pussy?”

Your cunt seizes up tight around his fingers—that shouldn’t sound hot. Christ that’s fucking gross—he’s gross. Adrian laughs and curls his fingers down against a delicious patch of nerves inside of you. “You liked that, huh? Oh, dangit—I forgot! You get off hearing me talk to you like this.”

“Shut up,” you whine, breathless and pathetic as your hips start grinding back against Adrian’s fingers. A red hot flush of embarrassment collects under your cheeks—you’re glad your mask hides away your face of shame. “Maybe.”

The admittance is quiet, but Adrian hears it nonetheless. You ignore his prideful croon, bitting your lip and closing your eyes as the swirling ecstasy spreads hot through your body. The raging heat burns you alive as Adrian starts to lose himself in pleasure, his purpose of teasing you—being in control as Vigilante, waning with every passing moment.

Adrian’s muffled groan is a delicious scrape against your ears and his cock pulses hard against your cunt through the fabric of his pants, making you spasm in delight. Fuck—this is taking too long—you’re gonna get caught. You drop your head against the floor and drag your core up and down, chasing your orgasm like this. You’re too impatient to wait for him to snap back into a coherent headspace to fuck you properly. Shameless and scrabbling for a taste of release, your ass flexes with every roll of your hips, your lower muscles fluttering with every drag against his clothed cock.

“Let me fuck your ass,” Adrian abruptly stutters, spreading one of your cheeks up and to the side. “You can even fuck mine after—you’d look so hot doing it. Like Beatrix Kiddo.”

Your tummy flutters. “Viggy, we—”

“N-not now—fuck we don’t have time,” Adrian pants. “Or lube. Shit, you’re almost wet enough to take me, though.”

The the pad of his thumb carefully brushes over the tight ring of muscle flexing for him. You inhale sharply at the brazen touch and shy away. “Oh, Christ—”

“Geez, you’re sensitive, Ghost,” Adrian teases as you let out a strangled whimper, trying your best not to flinch under the bold touches. “You haven’t had anyone fuck you here, have you?”

The shake of your head is too weak for him to catch. That and his other set of fingers dipping under you body to slide your clit between two digits. Your arousal flares up hot and bright, and orgasm right within reach—teetering over that edge. Fuck it feels so goddamn good. Everything seizes up, throbbing and left hanging, near painful as Adrian pulls his fingers from your soaking cunt. You snarl and bite out profanities that would make even Harcourt blush. Motherfucker is edging you.

Before you can twist around and latch your teeth into his flesh, the flat of his palm swings down to crack hard against your ass. You gasp and instantly still, stinging nerves echoing from the point of contact. “C’mon, babe—it’s a give and take kinda deal—tell me what you want.”

The taste of blood fills your mouth as you bite down on your bottom lip, spine going rigid as Adrian touches his fingers to your clit once again, drawing sickening slow circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. Yet again you’re affronted with the idea that maybe, it’s not so bad falling apart. Giving yourself up like martyrs give their hearts to the sky. Ache, fear, want, somehow right even in its cataclysmic end. A way that tastes of blood and ash, gunpowder and the lingering scent of Adrian’s bubblegum chap stick. He prefers grape, you don’t know why you know this, but you do.

Your heartstrings are far more intertwined than you care to acknowledge.

You crack.

“A-anything you want. Fuck, you can put your thumb in. Just please—please touch me. Let me cum, Adrian,” you beg to the uncaring floor of the van, choking back a sudden wave of frustrated tears. “Please.”

There’s a brief spell of silence and then a river of overexcited half sentences spill from his quick talking mouth. Another sharp smack connects with your ass—you wouldn’t be surprised to find his handprint there tomorrow. Adrian’s thumb then rubs against your vulnerable entrance with a purpose. His cock twitches, still confined by his trousers. “Fuck! Fuck, you’re gonna make me cream my pants. It’s so fuckin’ hot, hearing you beg. That’s going right into the spank bank.”

A keening moan slips past your lips, back arching as the time of his thumb gently pushes past the tight ring of muscle of your ass in the same moment his other hand reaches for your dripping center. His calloused digits start to run tight, even circles over your clit. The foreign sensation of his thumb gently breaching your asshole, only up to his first knuckle sends you flying towards your high. Fuck—you’re done for.

You gasp out Adrian’s name as everything surges up, searing hot and wet as you go rigid, shuddering your way through debilitating bliss as it crackles up and down your vertebrae. Through the fog that clouds your mind, body steel reeling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Adrian retracts both his hands and fiddle with his pants. His tactical belt falls to the floor with a thunk, him yanking his zipper down comes next. A fresh wave of need rears its ugly head hearing Adrian’s desperate plea to fuck you.

“Yes—fuck me,” you huff, throwing a wild hand back to latch onto anything you can grab as his fingers dip into your swollen cunt and gather the obscene amount of wetness leaking from your entrance with his hand. “Need it—”

“Yeah you do,” Adrian laughs, taking himself in hand and slowly jerking himself off with your wetness. He gives your ass a lecherous squeeze. You can’t even get a single sharp retort out as Adrain hooks his hands over your hips and roughly jerks your closer. The blunt head of his cock, throbbing and searing to the touch presses between the apex of your thighs. His hand leaves your hip to guide himself into your wet folds. Adrian pushes forward, and holy fucking hell—

You’re once again humbled by his size. It’s not like you forgot he’s big—you’re still sore from the first time—it’s just…fuck it’s a lot.

You cry out as Adrian slams full force into you, knees scrapping against the gridded flooring as he sheathes himself in your slick warmth all the way to the base. You feel Adrian shutter. “Your pussy is fuckin’ made for me. Think we’re soulmates, Ghostie?”

You claw your fingers over the floor and try to ground yourself, but there’s nothing to hold onto. Shit—your head his spinning—you throb around his thickness. You fucking might be soulmates for all you care as you yield to his hardness, the grip on your hips keeping you stationary. “Like Leia and Han Solo,” you breathe.

“I’m Leia. Obviously,” Adrian states, and then he pulls out and slams back in. His jumps into a merciless pace, driving into you and using your body as a counterweight to thrust himself deeper. You hiccup with every thrust, unable to fully inhale. Adrian’s babbling praise blazes through you like a wildfire, shredding your lungs and setting your body alight with the red-hot embers of a bonfire. He dips forward and anchors a hand down over the slope of your shoulder, pushing you lower onto the floor until your chest is flat agains it. His cock now pounds down into you your cunt. Your eyes roll back as stars explode behind your vision as his thrusts zero into that one mouthwatering spot, over and over and over again.

“Fuck, Viggy—youre gonna kill me,” you gasp, ragged and desperate. You’re rocking back into him as much as he allows, scrabbling dangerously close to another orgasm. “You feel fucking good.”

“Never,” Adrian pants, “I like you too much—shit, I think I’m in love with you, actually. Yeah—yeah that sounds right.”

Your heart skips into an uneven beat. Adrian’s hand shoots out to find the underside of your mask. It pulls up with ease and clatters to the floor. You whine as his fingers twist into your hair, yanking you to the side to expose the now exposed column of your neck. The soft touch of his lips send sparks through your entire body. He’s rolled his mask up just enough for his teeth to sink into the delicate flesh of your neck. Adrian’s wrecked, muffled, moan is heaven to your ears.

Suddenly, and without warning, you seize up and you’re cumming hard. Everything below your waist locks down tighter than a steel jaw trap—bursting hot and wet around his cock, squeezing him and spasming through each rough, steady thrust. God this is fucking heaven—

“Holy balls,” he grunts into your neck, pace kicking up as he chases his own end. His fingers, knotted in your hair twitch as he tugs on the strands. Over sensitive and still spasming around him, he wrings a sharp, haggard cry from your throat. Your face screws up, biting your tongue to keep your noises at bay. You know for a fact there’s more Butterflies lurking in the dark. Or Lord forbid the team hears you and comes running to save you. “You—your cunt gets so fucking tight when you cum.”

You whimper pathetically, listening to the vulgar sounds of him fucking into you as he keeps rocking mercilessly deep.

“You’re never…never getting rid of me,” Adrian slurs, dropping his head to rest between your shoulder blades. “Never—”

“Adrian,” you gasp, closing your eyes and trying to wrangle that familiar spark deep inside your core.

Whatever you were going to say is rudely interrupted as Adrian licks a slow, warm line up the curve of your throat and over the shell of your ear. You spasm and arch under him, squeezing down on his thick cock and trying not to sob. Suddenly, Adrian’s hands find your hips and flip you around with ease. You choke as your back meets the ground harshly, but Adrian’s throwing himself forward before you can beg for mercy.

His bubblegum flavored lips knock against yours, blood coating your tastebuds as he hoists your legs around his waist, realigns himself, and shoves back into your pussy. Your gloved hands shoot up to cradle his face, dragging him impossibly closer. Adrian pants against your parted moth as you part for precious, squinting, eyebrows drawn together from the change of lighting as you shove his mask up past his aquiline nose and over his forehead. Green eyes swimming with lust—dark and volatile, and clumsy. Tripping into unknown territory in time with your wild heartbeat that will never be truly lassoed and wrangled from the very stars. You’ve never wanted to empty yourself for someone like this before him—a knife to flesh, honey-thick ichor pouring from the wound. You don’t know how he does it—how he finds the soft gaps between your ribs to grasp at your gilded heart without fail.

Bitchass.

You grab at his sharp jaw and slide your tongue into his mouth. Adrian moans as he tangles his tongue with yours. He breaks away again, a string of saliva still connecting you both. “I’m close,” he puffs, picking up his speed and hammering into you, smirking at your hoarse squeak at the change of tempo. He buries his face into the crook your neck, high-pitched moans vibrating against your flushed skin.

“S’good,” you slur, cupping the back of his head to grip his soft hair. You don’t care that you’re praying on his blatant cravings for praise, he goes wild for it. “Such a good lover boy for me—fuck, Adrian.”

“Gonna—gonna cum,” his voice is tight, ravaged and shaky. “All yours—I’m yours.”

You turn your head to the side and nip his earlobe as your hand finds purchase on the outside of his thigh. You dig your nails into the hard, flexing muscle. “Good boy—cum for me.”

Adrian’s hips stutter. A long, drawn out wine fills the van as he plows his hips into you, choppy thrust only meant to aide his reach for his end. He grunts and bites down on your neck a second time, grinding his cock as deep inside you as he can go, his lithe body shuddering above you. You hips twitch, feeling Adrian pulsing, throbbing as he whimpers his way through his high, breathing heavy and filling you up with his seed.

You sigh in the afterglow, Adrian’s weight settling atop you, too fatigued to hold himself up. He mouths, sweet, sticky kisses over the hickies he’s left, up the line of your jaw until he finds your lips. “I won by the way,” he mumbles between kisses.

“What?”

His lips pull into a smug grin. “I obliterated at least five Butterflies and you only got three.”

Your face twists. That’s not even—

“It’s ok, Ghost,” he pats your cheek. "You win some, you lose some, y’know?”

Before you can tell him fuck off and eat shit—your walkie-talkie crackles—you both startle. Adrian whips out a knife from a hidden sheath stitched into his side.

“Ghost?”

You both breath a sigh of relief. Neither of you reach to grab the abandoned radio, however. Instead, Adrian sheaths his blade, cups your jaw and rolls his tongue over your parted bottom lip—content with ignoring whoever dared paging you.

“Vigilante? Do you copy?” It’s Adebayo.

Adrian wrinkles his nose as you groan and flail your arm to reach for the walkie-talkie. It’s just out of reach and with Adrian’s weight still atop you, you’re pinned. “Shit—a little help?”

Visibly irked, Adrian pulls out of you. You whine, your entire bottom half aching as exhaustion settles into your bones. You try to move—you should move, but you can’t. You just sprawl here on your back, legs still wide open. You’re positive your hip joints will creak if you try to close your legs. Adrian scoops up the radio. “How can I do ya for?”

He holds it a couple inches away from his ear as a surge of static voices echo back. You flinch as his warm hand smooths from the inside of your knee down to the crux of your legs. Adrian squeezes your inner thigh. He doesn’t do anything more than that, though, just stares at your abused hole as his cum starts to leak from it. A cherry red flush bursts over his angled cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Where the fuck have you asswipes been? We’ve been trying to call you for the past ten minutes!” Harcourt is pissed.

Adrian licks his lips and spreads your cunt with his thumb. You dip your head back and curse. “Got caught up kicking ass and blowing out Butterfly brains. Take a chill pill, guys—yeesh.”

“Is Ghost with you?” Adebayo asks.

“She’s out of commission right now,” Adrian smirks, pushing his cum back into your cunt with two fingers. “Took a beating like a champ though—you should’ve seen it—“

“She’s fuckin’ dead?” You hear Chris interject. Your brows furrow as a blush heats the blood under your cheeks.

You grunt and rip the radio out of Adrian’s hand. You shoot him a half hearted glare. “Sadly, I have yet to pass away—sorry to disappoint.”

“If she died would her body just, like, disappear?” The distant inquiry of Economos almost makes you laugh. Almost. “Y’know, since she’s got fucked up genes.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Harcourt sneers, “Shut up—Ghost, Vij, we’ll be back at the van in ten.”

Adrian wrestle back the radio. “Okey-dokey, see you nerds later.”

The hard plastic of the walkie-talkie skids on the floor as Adrian tosses it aside. His middle and ring fingers bury themselves back into your sore cunt. You choke and claw at his forearm, a shit-eating green plastered across his face.

“Think I can make you cum again?”

You’re going to kill him.

#welp here u go #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #adrian chase #vigilante #peacemaker #peacemaker show #dc comics #christopher smith #chris smith #leota adebayo #emilia harcourt

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