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Teasing Adrian Chase and removing your hand away from his cock just as he was about to cum. His whiny words soon hitting your ears, which died down into a simple curse as his head went back. You bit back your laugh and watched as his hips went forward, seeking some sort of friction even if it was just a little. He squirmed like crazy.
âCome onnn, fuck..â Adrian whined. His eyes closing as he let out a small whimper. The look on his face made you give in. What? You couldnât help it. The simple action of wrapping your hand back around his cock made him moan; his back arching perfectly. Adrian huffed, whined, whimpered, you name it. As he got closer and closer he got even more desperate, somehow. He started beggingâpleading and doing whatever he could to prevent you from stopping. But did that work? No. You pulled back once again, hearing a defeated cry from your poor boyfriend.
Adrianâs knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the sheets. He squirmed and let out whines, cock twitching and an angry red. Pre leaked uncontrollably and formed a small puddle.
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you are literally soooo good at writing angst!! can you do something with adrian where the team doesnât know about the reader and adrianâs relationship but the reader gets injured and adrian freaks out so now everyone knows?
in this world full of people
pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)
rating: m+
word count: 2,054
combined with the anonymous request in my inbox: "Hi!! This is my first request ever, but my vigilante hyper fixation is going strong đ Iâm a sucker for any hurt/comfort especially rescue fics! But really any will do, sorry for the lack of creativity lol"
one-sentence synposis: the 11th street kids rescue you after you've been kidnapped and tortured by a cultâ but the way adrian reacts in particular tells them exactly what the dynamic between the two of you has become.
read now on ao3!!
Youâre getting kind of sick of cults.
It seems like every other case youâre all assigned to lately is some cult. A bunch of evil humans, a bunch of interdimensional aliens, a bunch of sadistic monstersâ just endless groups that think theyâre better than everyone else, suck up everything into it, and become hivemind monstrosities that can only end up imploding.
This case has been no different: a cult of superhumans living in the woods, which wouldnât normally be an issue if they left other people alone. But these types love to involve others, and theyâve moved on from harassing locals as a recruitment tactic to creating superpowered weapons to threaten the locals into joining up and serving them.
From there, you were all able to determine, their plan is to move onto everyone in the state, then the country, then the worldâ as it so often goes with these things for you. Everything is taking over the world. Why isnât anyone ever content with just hanging out?
Thatâs what you would be doing now, if you could. But, being the most recent addition to the teamâ and thus the least recognizableâ you were selected to infiltrate the cult so you and the rest of the Kids could start taking it down before it becomes a tornado-of-supervillains situation.
Youâd lasted two days before one of the new superhumans joining the team arrived and showcased their lie detector abilities.
And youâd been caught.
That was a week ago.
Itâs been a long week since then.
It turns out that the superhumans value life enough to let you hang onto yours, but not so much that theyâre not willing to play with it as a form of punishment for you. They have a variety of weaponsâ and a variety of powersâ and you get to witness so many of them in action, in ways you wish you never had, in ways you wish you could forget, in ways that will scar you for the rest of your lifeâ which might not be that long, depending.
You endure sonic shrieks that make your ears ring and your head throb and your nose bleed. Youâre tied to a chair, and have been this entire time, unable to move; your body aches horribly, and you wonder if youâll ever be able to get out of this position. You know both kneecaps are broken; one swing from a superhuman with super-strength had shattered them both. Even if you could break the silver, impenetrable ropes keeping you bound to the uncomfortable wooden chair, you wouldnât be able to walk anywhere. You probably wouldnât even be able to crawl by this point.
Burns from a super with pyrokinesis; lightning-bolt marks electrocuted through you by a super with electrokinesis; constantly soaked-through and shivering in this tiny shed they keep you in, because a weather-manipulating super has it storming constantly in here, no reprieve from the cold rain that pelts you at all times.
Occasionally, you manage to slip into sleep and get a break from it allâ but it always comes roaring back when they wake you up again. They seem to enjoy having someone to test their superpowered weapons on; you donât know how many knife blades theyâve brought to you by this point, testing on every inch of available skin. Thereâs a bullet festering in your shoulder made of alien material; thatâs all youâd been able to find out before theyâd experimented with it by firing it on you. Youâd barely been able to feel the ball-ended whips theyâd tested on you afterwards, youâd been so focused on not throwing up and passing out.
Now, after a week of this, youâd love nothing more than to just pass out and stay that way. Youâre exhausted, youâre in so much pain you feel like youâve moved onto another level of existence just to handle it, and youâre starting to wonder if the teamâs coming for youâ if they even can.
You feel a sense of panic at the thought of them being captured, tooâ of John, and Leota, and Emilia, and Chris, andâ and Adrianâ
You especially canât think of Adrian in another tiny shed like this, being subjected to the same treatment youâve been subjected to for the last seven days. At least, you think itâs been seven days; itâs getting harder and harder to keep track, and you think youâre losing time.
Blinking, you know youâve just lost it again. Itâs the strange feeling of slipping sideways, and you just know youâre coming in and out.
You just wish you could feel any relief in the moments youâre out. You barely remember them or notice them anymore.
In the distanceâ you donât know when, or where, or why, but you feel a rumble.
Your brain foggily tries to tell you that this is something different, but your body is reacting instinctively. Every time thereâs been a noise in the last week, the door has opened into your shed, and youâve been hurt. Your body is still trying to protect itself, even after everything, and you cry out at the pain that jolts through you as a result.
Outside thereâs the sound of gunfire, then shouting.
And you think you recognize a couple of the voices.
Not as belonging to people here, but as belonging to your people. You think you can hear the Kidsâ Emilia shouting instructions, Chris calling back to herâ itâs themâ
Butâ
This could be another trap. Another method of torture. Youâd been wondering when theyâd move on from physical torment to mental; it was only a matter of time before some superhuman with illusion magic, or manipulation abilities, orâ or any number of horrors you could easily come up with, after the week youâve hadâ before they decided to break your brain as well as your body.
Despite this fear, your heart still lurches into your throat when you hear Adrian in a shout of, âNot here!â
If he isnât real, youâve got nothing to lose. Youâll be hurt anyways; youâll probably die here.
If he is realâ
âHere,â you whisper, licking at your dry lips, cracked beneath your tongue. You canât manage to get your voice very loud at first, your throat aching as you try again, âHere, Iâmâ Iâm hereââ You cough, then shout, crackling but louder, âIâm here!â
Thereâs more gunfire outside, then Leota shouting, âI hear something!â
Your eyes fill up with tears. You donât stop, making yourself keep shouting, âHere, Iâm here, please, Iâm right here, please, Iâm here,â on an endless, begging loop, louder and more frantic with each pass, until the door is crashing in. You flinch; every time that door has banged in, itâs been followed by pain.
This time, though, Leota and Chris are rushing through the doorway into the rain, and you sob with relief. In better circumstances, you might be embarrassed, but you have been hurt and drained and broken; you canât hold back your relief at seeing them, hallucinations or not.
âYou guys came,â you gasp out.
âOf course we did,â Leota says, coming to crouch beside you. She canât stop looking you over with this horrified expression on her face; she looks back at Chris, asks, âWhat do we do?â
âWell, we canât justâ pick up the whole chair, we have to get (Y/N) out of it first,â Chris points out.
âButââ Leota starts, then stops. You can hear the unspoken words; you look like youâre about to fall apart, a beaten, wet mess held up by the ties keeping you attached to the chair.
Together, with knives Leota pulls from her belt, they work at sawing through the ropes binding you. You let your head drop; relief is flooding your system as you start to believe theyâre real, their touch on you actually having weight and feeling, and exhaustion is seizing you.
âHey, stay up,â Chris warns you. Into his communicator, he tells the rest of the time, âWeâve got (Y/N). Location isââ
âIâm on my way,â Adrianâs voice crackles through.
Your chest tightens hearing him. Youâve missed him so much; thoughts of him were one of the only things that got you through this. Youâve only officially been together exclusively for a couple of months, and youâve still been keeping it a secret from the rest of the team.
You wonder how Adrian has been handling your absence. If the roles were reversed, youâre sure youâd be a wreck, determined to get him back, wouldnât rest until you had.
When Adrian spills through the doorway, you know heâs felt the exact same as you would have.
Even with his entire body coveredâ face included, the prescription Vigilante visor shining red and getting speckled with rainwaterâ you can tell how destroyed he is about this from the tense lines of his body, the way he freezes when he first comes in, and thenâ
And then, him sprinting to you, sliding to his knees in front of you, grasping your face between his gloved hands. You flinch at the pain, and his hands leave; you beg him, âNo, come back,â and heâs cradling you again, shifting upwards as the ropes are finally cut and you can sag into him.
âIâm so sorry,â Adrian babbles in your ear, desperate, words rushing together. He rips his helmet off in an uncharacteristic move, but itâs exactly what you need: to see his face, to meet his eyes, to see his red-flushed skin and his terror and him, to know heâs real. âBaby, Iâm so sorry, I shouldâve gotten here sooner, ohâ Oh, shit, you look so bad, Iâm so sorry, Iâmâ Iâm gonna fix it, okay?â
You nod blearily against his shoulder. He lifts you up again, nudging you back so he can evaluate your face between his cupped hands again. The gloves are rough on your bruised skin, but youâre so happy heâs here, you just smile dazedly up at him.
âThank you for coming,â you mumble upwards. âLove you.â
âI told myself Iâd say it if I saw you again,â you tell him. Your blinks are getting longer, slower; you wish you werenât in this rain anymore. âSo, I am. I love you.â
It only takes a second for this to process through Adrian before heâs grinning. Itâs a strange expression on his face, the simultaneous horror and elation, but you can see both there in spades.
âI love you, too,â he replies in a rush. âI love you so much, Iâve loved you since I met you, itâs been torture not telling youâ Oh, shit, I shouldnât be saying that, thatâs insensitive as fuckââ
You huff a laugh that has him stopping, looking down to your mouth then back up to your eyes before he ducks in, pressing a gentle kiss there, careful with you.
Itâs real. Heâs real. This is real.
âWhat the fuck?â Chris demands from beside them.
âIs this really happening?â Leota asks. âShould I be stopping him? Is he taking advantage ofââ
âI kinda think theyâre into it,â Chris comments.
Your kiss breaks, and you loll against Adrian again, barely able to keep yourself upright. Everything is pain; you look up to Adrian, tell him, âSorry.â
âSorry?â he demands. âWhat sorry? What the fuck could you possibly be sorry for?â
âThe secret,â you remind him. âNow theyâll know.â
His face is flushing from pink right into red when he tells you, âI want them to know. Justâ Not the bad guys.â
You smile, letting your head fall against his shoulder. âLove you.â
He kisses the top of your head, then moves to scoop you up. You hiss at the pain in your knees, your ribs, your head, your everything, and he kisses your cheek again, telling you, âI got you. I know it hurts, weâre gonna fix it all up, donât you worry.â
âWe are talking about this later,â Chris informs you and Adrian firmly. âOnce youâre, you knowâ in one piece again.â
âMmkay,â you agree, eyes closing. âWake me up then.â
You let the pain throw your mind into fog, and you let your exhaustion finally take hold, and you sigh in relief as Adrian carries you out of the shed and into the warm sun.