#vigilante reader

“hey katsuki,” you drawl, the lack of blood making you lightheaded. woozy and unstable. you close your eyes, laying your head back on the wall, “i knew you’d find me.”

bakugou begins to walk over to you, shaking his head like a disappointed parent, “why haven’t you left the perimeter? my radio said the guy had a wind—,”

he notices the blood across your cheek first, then your blooded hand, “what the fuck, yn? you got hurt?”

your laugh is a single breath as you move your arm to show your thigh, a three inch shard of your own glass stuck into it. bakugou’s eyes widen and he drops to his knees by your feet. 

“thank fuck you’ve kept it in—,”

“i’ve stabbed myself before. i know i have to keep it in.”

“you’ve stabbed yourself before but you haven't taken any precautions to stop stabbin’ yourself.” 

what makes bakugou katsuki a great pro hero isn’t his years of hero education, his years on the field or his insanely powerful quirk. it’s his ability to strip at the speed of light. bakugou grunts before unzipping his hoodie and whipping off his t-shirt.

smooth bronze chest, bread roll of abs, scars that match your own littering across him. that makes you open your eyes, even manage to lift your head off the wall for a second. 

“am i finally dying? i always thought i’d see you naked for the last time before i go,” you mumble, your eyes fluttering shut again.

bakugou huffs, ripping his black t-shirt into bandage sized strips. if you weren’t bleeding out you’d definitely be admiring his biceps, thick and eatable, creating medical supplies out of his own clothing. sexy, alas you can barely see right now.

“you’re still sayin’ stupid shit while bleedin’ out. if the comm said you got hit i would have actually brought bandages.” he grabs your weak arm, tightly wrapping it in his t-shirt wrap. bakugou notices you almost dropping off to sleep, head about to fall onto your shoulder so he grabs your chin, pulls down his mask and kisses you. a quick press that has your eyes opening wide for a beat.

“thank you princess, i’m up. i’m good,” you mumble, remembering to breathe, deep inhales of bakugou’s sweet caramel scent straight up your nose. you can see every dark bronde eyelash tap his cheeks at every blink, the scar across his cheek now visible with the mask down. your favourite part of him.

“princess? does that make you the fuckin’ frog?” bakugou humours, anything to keep you still talking to him. once your arm is wrapped tightly, he frowns at the shard of glass in your thigh. he knows basic first aid, he knows there’s a point where you have to go to the hospital but you with your stupid vigilante ways can’t, or you’d be connected back to the crime immediately. he could take you to his personal doctor in the agency but finding ways to sneak into his own building will require his quirk that he can’t be using with you around. it would link him to you. fuck.

“yeah, i guess it does. pro hero and the vigilante. we are in our own fairytale, aren’t we?”

he’s going to have to take a risk. keeping the glass plugged into your wound has stopped the blood from spilling but he’s sure that if he pulls it out and quickly wraps the ragged bandages you should be able to last until he brings you to his apartment. fuck it, he’ll fly you to his apartment, avoid all the cameras and street lights.

“fairytale? i’ll kiss you again and you’ll go pro with me. is that gonna happen in our story?” 

bakugou’s moving before he can finish a thought, you’re not going to die here in this dirty alleyway but all he can imagine is you dying here in this fucking dirty alleyway.

“katsuki… don’t. not now.” you grumble, you’ve had this conversation a million times. you’ll probably die for real if you have to listen to it again.

“inhale for me, baby. a quick one,” you have no time to reply before the inhale is forced out of you when bakugou yanks the glass out. 

“what the fuck, katsuki!”

but he’s already cocking up your knee and wrapping his shirt around your thigh tightly.

“you’re all good as new, all good for me.”

you gaze down at your black fabric bandaged arm and matching thigh. not seeing your own blood leaking from you has you feeling better and so does your half naked doctor.

“you had to do that all shirtless? you’re too used to the cameras, hero.”

bakugou shifts to drag his hoodie back onto his bare chest, dragging his mask back over his face. he rolls his eyes at you, zipping his hoodie back under his chin.

“fuck off. had to give you some fan service to keep your eyes open, dumbass. it worked didn’t it?” though his tone doesn’t come out as playful as he wanted, his eyebrows furrowed, readjusting your body to carry you princess style across his chest. he lifts you with ease and he despises the wince across your face.

“yeah it did,” you whisper, gazing up at the hero who has saved your life again. who always saves your life when you impulsively go out to force order and justice onto your streets at night. the wind quirk guy you fought earlier… he was so close and you let him get away again. back to square one. “thanks for getting me again, katsuki.”

there’s too many discrepancies between you and bakugou katsuki. pro hero and vigilante. rich and poor. abides by the rules and rejects any form of control. day and night. the list can go on. you still refuse to tell him who you’re after and why, letting him think you’re on neighbourhood watch to make you feel better about the fact you never got into hero school is the best choice. being a hero was never the point. everything is about revenge, you just happen to save a few civilians in the meantime.

bakugou grunts, “don’t make this shit happen again yn. i swear, you gotta—,” he wants you to promise him, promise you’ll stay home and stay safe. promise you’ll let him take you into his agency and teach you how to become a legal hero. promise that youll let him take you on a proper date. but the more he pushes the more you pull away and he’d rather you in his life bandaged up than nothing at all. it feels like a lose-lose situation.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and i’ll call my doctor. he can stitch you up.”

“your doctor is awake now?”

bakugou scoffs, “i pay him to answer my calls. he’s gonna be.”

you only manage to roll your eyes before bakugou shifts you to a one arm hold to fly you back to his apartment. 

likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for another part. thanks xox

Now you’re tangled up on his couch, your legs across his lap, your head resting on his shoulder. He smells like soap and popcorn. His hand lazily strokes your thigh. You rub the back of his hand gently before turning around and see he was already staring at you.

“What?” You ask shyly.

“I can’t just admire you?” He asks with a soft smile playing on his lips. You turn your body so you lay on your back and bring a hand up to caress his face.

“Yeah, I guess you can,” you blush just before he leans in to kiss you.

“You know,” he says between kisses, “if we were in a horror movie, I’d totally be the guy who has sex with the hot girl and still somehow survives.”

You pull back just enough to give him a skeptical look. “So… the delusional jock?”

“No,” he scoffs. “The hot jock that saves the day. Big difference.”

You snort, but he doesn’t let you get away. He kisses you again, slower now. Purposeful. His tongue brushes yours, and you feel that shift in the air, the one that means this is no longer just kissing. His hand slips under your shirt, and you breathe in sharply.

You kiss for a few more minutes, kisses that get deeper, needier, until he mumbles against your lips, “Wanna take this to the bedroom?”

That’s when you hesitate.

He notices immediately. Pulls back just enough to search your face. “Too fast?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. It’s just…” You take a breath. “I’ve never… done this before.”

Adrian blinks. “done what? Sex?”

You nod.

A long pause.

“…Like, ever ever?”

Your cheeks burn. “Yeah. Ever ever.”

He pulls back like he’s been hit by a truck. Not out of disgust, no, it’s more like awe. Shock. Reverence.

“Holy shit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that a bad ‘holy shit’?”

“No! No, it’s a—fuck—it’s an honorary badge kind of holy shit,” he says, eyes wide, hands frozen mid-air like he doesn’t trust them near you anymore. “Like, I’d get a patch sewn onto my vigilante suit for this. ‘Trusted with sacred first-time sex moment by the literal most amazing person alive.’ I’d wear it everywhere. I’d flash it like a fucking FBI badge.”

You laugh. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m dead serious,” he says, lowering his voice. “That’s…fuck, that’s the most trusting thing anyone’s ever said to me. And you’re…you’re you. You’re so… you. Smart and hot and funny and like… you could literally punch me in the throat and I’d say thank you.”

You smirk. “Noted.”

He leans forward again, slower this time. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just make out and eat snacks and watch shitty movies forever and I’d still have scored the jackpot.”

You swallow, heart pounding. “I… want to. With you.”

Adrian goes still. His breath catches. His eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to read a foreign language and suddenly understands all of it.

“…Fuck,” he breathes. “Forreal? Me?”

He doesn’t kiss you right away. Instead, he brings one of your hands to his chest, pressing it flat against his heartbeat.

“I know I say the dumbest shit all the time and I will continue doing that, just to be clear, but I need you to know something before this happens.”

You nod, throat tight.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Doesn’t break eye contact. “Sex is cool,” he says. “The mess and the noise and the way it feels, sure it’s nice. But most of all? I like it because of this.” His voice softens. “Because of the connection. The fact that for a few minutes, it’s just you and me and no one else in the world gets to have that.”

You blink, surprised.

He chuckles nervously. “That sounds lame, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you say quietly. “It sounds… perfect.”

“I just want it to feel like yours,” he says. “Not like something you give away. Not something that happens to you. Something you choose, because it feels right. With someone who makes you laugh and buys you those disgusting sour gummy worms you like and tells you how hot you are in every outfit you wear.”

You smile, lips trembling.

“I’ll ask before every step,” he says, eyes scanning your face. “You say stop, I stop. You wanna slow down, we slow down. You change your mind? We make popcorn and watch The Notebook and cry at the end. Deal?”

You laugh softly. “Deal.”

He kisses your knuckles. “Okay,” he says. “Bedroom it is. But only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper. He leans in to kiss you again deeper this time. Every touch of his tongue sent a pulse down your body. His glasses nudged against you as the pace picked up. He sat up slowly making sure not to break the kiss. His hands guided you with him gently to straddle his lap. You happily followed his lead leaving some space, slightly unsure of where to sit. He moved down from kissing your lips to travel down planting kisses against your jaw down your throat before focusing on the side of your neck leaving goosebumps wherever his lips touched you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass bringing you down right on top of his hard dick. A moan escapes your lips and blood flushed to your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he whispers against your neck. “I wanna hear everything you have to say.” He encourages while he grinds himself up against you.

Your hips twitch slightly against him, like your body’s starting to learn a rhythm all its own. You’re still shy, still uncertain, but he feels too good beneath you warm and solid.

He noses up along your throat, presses a kiss beneath your ear. “You feel so good like this,” he murmurs. “On me. For me.”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into his shoulders. “I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

He smiles against your skin. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out together. If we mess up we’ll just keep trying.”

His hands slide under your shirt, warm and steady. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

You nod, and he helps you out of it slowly, like he’s unwrapping something sacred. Your hands reach back to unclip your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders. His eyes roam your body not just with hunger, but with awe. You take his hands, slowly, gently and place them on your boobs.

The moment his palms meet your skin, he lets out the softest groan, head tilting back like he’s in church.

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “They feel amazing.”

You laugh, nerves fading as he thumbs over your nipples with surprising delicacy. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours.

You nod. “Yeah. It feels good.”

“Good,” he breathes, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. Then your left boob. Then lower, slower, until you’re arching toward him without even realizing it. “I wanna make you feel amazing. Like, core memory unlocked amazing.”

You whimper as his mouth finds you again, as his hands map your body like he’s memorizing it.

“I’m gonna be so obsessed with your tits after this,” he says against your skin. “Like, more than usual. Sorry in advance.”

You roll your hips against his lap, and his grip tightens slightly, just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re learning fast.”

You smile, emboldened. “I like making you lose your mind.”

He looks up at you, totally wrecked already. “Marry me.” His hands cup your chest like they belong there warm, careful, almost worshipful. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, but he isn’t grinding up into you anymore. His focus is entirely on you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over your nipples. “These are perfect. Like scientifically. I should get a team of researchers on this shit.”

You laugh breathlessly. “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah, and you’re unreal.” He leans in, dragging his tongue softly along the curve of your breast, slow and exploratory. Your breath hitches.

He glances up, catches the way your lips part. “That feel good?”

You nod, dazed. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” he says, voice dropping. “Gonna try something. Tell me if you hate it.”

You don’t even get a chance to ask before his mouth closes over your nipple, hot and wet and perfect. You let out a soft gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders.

He moans against you like he’s the one getting touched. “Oh yeah. Yeah, I knew this would feel good.”

He switches to the other breast, lavishing it just as thoroughly, his hands now gripping your waist as if he needs to anchor himself. Every swirl of his tongue sends heat coiling between your legs. Then he pulls back slightly, lips trailing kisses along the soft underside of your breast.

Then he bites. Not hard, just enough pressure to make you jolt, a spark of pain edged with pleasure. Your fingers tighten in his hair.

You gasp, startled. “Oooh..”

He immediately pulls back. “Too much?”

You shake your head, eyes wide. “No. No, it felt… really good.”

His eyes light up like he’s won the lottery. “Oh fuck. You like that?”

Your face flushes. “Apparently.”

He grins like a man unhinged. “Great. Amazing. Incredible. Gonna mark you up like a fucking art project.”

And then he’s on you again kissing, licking, sucking. This time, more deliberately. He tests different spots: beneath your collarbone, the curve of your breast. He bites a little harder, then soothes it with his tongue. You gasp and whine, your thighs squeezing around his waist.

You’ve never felt like this before, like your body is a map and he’s determined to learn every single inch.

“Look at you,” he whispers, breath hot against your skin. “So fucking sensitive. I’m barely touching you and you’re melting.”

You nod, dizzy. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

He presses a kiss to your sternum. “I’m gonna show you how good it could feel”

Another bite. Another gasp.

“You’re not gonna be able to wear a tank top tomorrow,” he murmurs proudly. “People are gonna know you’re mine.” You shiver at the possessiveness in his tone not threatening, but intimate. Like he’s claiming you with his mouth, and your body is more than happy to let him.

He cups your jaw and kisses you deeply again, slow and anchoring. “You okay?”

You nod, breathless. “Yeah. Better than okay.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Good. ‘Cause I’m just getting started.”

His mouth is still on your skin, lips brushing over the fresh hickey he just gave you like he’s signing his name. You’re flushed, dazed, tingling all over.

But then your hands move up the back of his shirt, over his spine, your fingers dragging slowly beneath the fabric. He shudders.

You whisper, “Take this off?”

He sits up instantly, lifting his arms. “Oh my God, yes. Please. By all means. Take it the fuck off.”

You roll your eyes but grin, pulling his shirt over his head. He tosses it aside dramatically.

And wow.

His chest is warm and firm and just the right amount of soft, with muscle that’s earned but not showy. A constellation of tiny scars dot his skin. A bullet graze here, a burn there, one slightly jagged line over his ribs.

You reach out slowly, fingertips tracing the line down his side.

He watches you like he can’t breathe. “You’re allowed to touch,” he murmurs, voice low. “You could literally claw your name into my chest right now and I’d cum in my pants.”

You lean in, press your lips to his sternum. He gasps. His hands flex at your waist but don’t pull he lets you lead.

Your kisses trail lower, then veer to the side. You pause just beneath his collarbone, and then bite.

He moans. Full-body. Head-thrown-back. Hands gripping your hips now but still not directing you, just holding on like he might float away.

“Holy shit,” he groans. “Are you trying to give me a stroke?”

You laugh against his skin, soothed the bite with a kiss. “Just wanted to see how you liked it.”

“Do it again.”

You oblige. This time, on the curve of his shoulder, then the base of his neck. You leave your marks tiny badges of boldness and he’s shaking beneath you.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re incredible. You’re like… sweet little angel outside, secret deviant inside. That’s my favorite flavor of woman.”

You shift in his lap, emboldened by how wrecked he is. His hands grip your thighs like he’s trying not to beg.

You glance up at him through your lashes. “What else do you want me to do?”

His breath catches. “Fuck, say that again, but slower.”

You lean in close, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear. “What do you want me to do?.”

“Okay. You say that again and I’m gonna start barking.”

You laugh, dizzy from the power shift and how absolutely gone he is.

Then suddenly, his hands slide beneath your thighs and he stands effortlessly lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. You squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Adrian!”

“Bedroom,” he says, voice low and thrilled. “Immediately. No notes. We’re doing this right.”

He carries you like you’re fragile and priceless, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder as he walks. Kicks the bedroom door open with his foot and deposits you gently onto the bed like he’s setting down a painting.

You blink up at him, chest heaving, heart pounding.

He pulls back just enough to kneel between your legs, eyes dark, reverent. His hands bring your shorts down with your panties slowly

“You still good?” he asks, voice suddenly soft again.

You nod. “I’m good.”

“You want this?”

“I want you.”

He groans. “I’m never gonna get tired of hearing you say that.”

He kisses your thigh first. Just one. Then the other. Then again, higher this time. And again.

You start to squirm.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m not just doing this to be sexy. I need this. Like emotionally, spiritually, and nutritionally.”

You giggle, breathless.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, sliding your underwear down and tossing them behind him without even looking. “Like… devoted.”

Then his mouth is on you.

And holy shit. You’ve never felt anything like this. Not just the heat of his tongue, or the way his hands pin your hips just enough to keep you from running, but the way he moans against you like he’s savoring every second.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he mutters. “You taste like a miracle.”

You cry out when he sucks on your clit, then gasps when he slows down again teasing, circling, tongue flicking in maddening rhythms.

He lifts his head for half a second, lips glossy. “Wanna make you come with just my mouth. Can I do that? Will you let me?”

You nod frantically, hands gripping the sheets. “Yes! please, Adrian don’t stop”

“Say less.”

He goes back in like he’s starving. One arm curls under your thigh to hold you steady, the other reaching up to teasing your nipple as he works you open with his tongue. Every time you gasp, he groans. Every time you twitch, he doubles down.

“God it’s so wet,” he hums against the slick mess he’s made. His tongue explores every inch of you. His tongue slips in you making you see stars, your hips twitch when his nose rubs against your clit. They buck up helping him add more pressure. “That’s it, baby. Use me,” he says and that’s all you need. You fall apart, moaning his name, thighs shaking, hands clawing at his hair and he doesn’t stop.

He eats it all up.

When you’re done, he holds your thighs apart and presses soft kisses to your clit looking up at you, smug and dazed.

Adrian’s hovering over you now, kissing you slow, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. His body is warm, hard, heavy in all the right ways — but still careful. Always careful.

His hands trail down your ribs and over your hips, and you feel that spark again. That ache. But this time, it’s not just about what he can give.

You want to give something back.

“Wait,” you murmur, hand on his chest.

He stills instantly. “Everything okay?”

You nod. “I just… want to try something.”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he leans back on his knees, giving you space. “Yeah? Like what?”

You sit up slowly, shifting so you’re kneeling in front of him. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his boxers. He gasps.

“Wait…wait. You’re gonna?” He blinks fast. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay. Um. Okay. Hi. I’m fine. Just…uh…hang on.”

You laugh softly. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” he lies. “I’m just surprised and honored and possibly about to black out.”

You slide his boxers down and he hisses through his teeth, watching your hands like they’re about to perform a magic trick.

“I’ve never done this before,” you admit, your voice shy but steady. “So just bare with me,”

He immediately softens. “Okay. First of all? That’s hot. That’s so hot. Second? No pressure. We go at your pace. I’m literally just happy to be invited.”

You lean in slowly, your hand wrapping around him, and his whole soul leaves his body one hand gripping the sheets, the other stroking your hair. “That’s good. That’s amazing. You’re amazing. Wait, wait…can I—can I give notes?”

You giggle. “Notes already?”

“I’m being helpful,” he insists, voice cracking slightly as you stroke him again. “Okay, okay—lighter grip, just at the base, yeah? Perfect. You’re a natural. This is unfair. Are you trying to ruin me?”

You lean down and swirl your tongue along the tip, slow and tentative. You take him deeper, little by little, and his entire body tenses.

“Fffffuck—yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, baby. Holy shit. Hollow your cheeks a little? Yep. That’s it. That’s it.”

You hum softly in response, and his hand tightens, not pulling, just grounding himself.

“Okay,” he says, voice raw but still managing that damn smirk. “So we’re just pretending I have any dignity left. Got it.”

You glance up through your lashes and his entire torso convulses.

“DON’T look at me like that while you’re…”

You pull off him with a soft pop, hand still stroking him, slick and slow. “No?”

His chest rises sharply. His laugh is low, shaken. “Fuck ok keep looking at me.”

You lower again, dragging your tongue along the underside, and he lets out a strangled moan. You’re focused now, methodical. Letting your hand work what your mouth can’t take yet. He can feel how much you want this, how much pleasure you’re taking in his pleasure.

It’s driving him insane.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay. That’s…baby, you gotta—fuck I’m gonna come. I want to come inside you. I want to feel you.”

You ignore him.

You swirl your tongue around the head, suck him in deep again, hollowing your cheeks just how he likes, and he chokes on a moan.

“Baby,” he pleads, voice cracking. “Please. You’re gonna—fuck, I’m gonna…” You don’t stop. You suck on him harder needing him to come.

His hand is on your shoulder now, not to push, never to push, but to hold. To brace. His thighs are trembling beneath your palms. You move one hand over to caress his balls and he loses it.

“God, you’re so fucking good at this,” he gasps. “You’re gonna make me—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He just finishes.

With a raw groan, his hips twitch once, then again, and you taste him warm, thick spurts, overwhelming. He curses softly, muttering your name like it’s a prayer and a confession and an apology all at once.

You swallow everything.

When he finally blinks up at you, wrecked and breathless, there’s something reverent in his gaze.

“…You really didn’t want to stop,” he says hoarsely.

You crawl up beside him, wiping your mouth, smug.

“I wanted to taste you too.”

Adrian’s still catching his breath, hand coming up to cup your cheek like he doesn’t want you more than three inches from him ever again.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he says quietly. “Like… dangerous levels of hot. Weaponized caring.”

You laugh, nuzzling into his palm.

He guides you up to his lips kissing you. When he finally pulls back, his voice is softer. “You still want more, sweetheart? ‘Cause I’m not done with you. Not even close.”

Your body is already answering before your mouth does, pressing into him, needing him again.

You nod. “I want all of you.”

His breath catches. He nods too, like it’s something sacred. “I’m all yours.”

You’re already stretched out beneath him, your bodies pressed close, skin sticky with heat. He kisses you slow and open-mouthed, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other stroking down your side, grounding you.

“You sure?” he asks again, voice low and wrecked.

You nod. “I want you.”

He groans softly like it physically hurts to hear you say that. “Okay. We’ll go slow, baby. Real slow. You just tell me what you need.”

His fingers trace between your thighs, gentle as ever, coaxing your body back into that ache. When he finally lines himself up he brings the tip to clit, rubbing circles around it before he rubs down to your entrance, coating himself in your slick, he presses forward just an inch, and already your breath catches.

“Breathe for me,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your clit gently. “You’re doing so good. You feel like heaven.”

You exhale, and he pushes a little deeper.

Your mouth falls open, there’s pressure, a little burn, but it’s good. It’s so good. And Adrian? Adrian looks wrecked. His jaw’s clenched, sweat at his temples, trying so hard to keep control.

“Okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “More please.”

He goes deeper, slow and careful, until he’s fully inside you. His arms tremble. His breath stutters.

“Holy shit,” he chokes. “I’m not gonna survive this.”

You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he groans into your neck. He doesn’t move just stays there, letting your bodies adjust, kissing your shoulder, whispering praises.

“So tight,” he mutters. “So perfect. You’re taking me so good.”

You start to move beneath him, small, testing rolls of your hips. You whimper at the friction, the way he stretches you just right.

“Adrian,” you gasp. “Please.”

He stills. “Please what, baby?”

“I need you to move.”

He leans back just enough to meet your eyes. “You sure?”

You nod, more desperate now. “I want it. I want you.”

He draws back, slow and smooth, and then thrusts forward again, still gentle, but deeper. You moan, louder this time and his rhythm builds, each stroke dragging more of a sound from your throat.

But soon, it’s not enough.

“Faster,” you whisper, nails biting into his back. “I want it faster.”

His eyes flash. “You want it rough, sweetheart?”

You nod, breath hitching. “Please. Fuck, please.”

And that’s when he lets go.

His pace shifts deeper, harder, needier. His hand braces against the headboard. His mouth finds your neck again, biting down gently, then soothing the mark with his tongue.

“You want me to ruin you?” he pants. “Because I will. I’ll make you forget every name you’ve ever fantasized, but mine.”

You moan his name loud, high, desperate and he groans like it kills him.

“You feel that?” he gasps. “That’s how much I wanted you. For weeks. I dreamed about this. Jerked off to the thought of this pussy wrapped around me—fuck.”

Your body shakes beneath him, pleasure coiling tighter, hotter, faster.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks through gritted teeth “you wanted it hard and fast like this?”

“Yes baby,” you moan, “just what I needed.” He moves his hands to your hips, lifting them up. You feel him deeper. His thrusts get faster at the new angle letting him a part that makes your thighs shake.

“Come for me,” he says, voice breaking. “Be loud. Be messy. Let me fucking have it.”

And you do.

You come with a cry, back arching, walls clenching around him and that’s all it takes. Adrian follows with a broken moan, hips stuttering, your name falling from his lips like worship.

Your chest rises and falls beneath his. You’re both trembling breathless, flushed, soaked in heat and something that feels dangerously close to love.

Adrian doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even move. He just holds you, still inside, like letting go might undo him completely.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand cradling your jaw like you’re something precious. His voice, when it comes, is hoarse. Shaky.

“You okay?”

You nod, your fingers trailing up his back, gentle. “Yeah… I’m more than okay.”

He exhales a breathless, disbelieving little laugh and kisses the tip of your nose.

“You have no idea what you just did to me.”

You smile. “I think I might.”

He carefully eases out of you, both of you wincing at the sensitivity, and collapses beside you with a soft groan. Immediately, he pulls you into his arms one leg tangled with yours, your cheek pressed to his chest.

There’s a long moment of quiet. Soft breaths. Warm skin. Then his voice quieter, but steady. “You just… changed me.”

You blink, heart thudding, and tilt your face up to meet his eyes.

He looks so serious. Flushed. Bare. Eyes still blown wide. “That wasn’t just sex,” he says. “That was… I don’t know. You made it feel like something I’m never gonna forget. Not just because I came a lot… like, violently hard though, let’s be real, I did, but because it felt like us.”

You smile, throat tight. “It did.”

He brushes your hair back, slow and sweet. “You felt like home.”

You kiss him soft and long, your fingers curling into his chest.

Another pause. Another breath.

Then, because he can’t help himself “Did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t float away from each other?”

You laugh into his neck. “What?”

“It’s true. They just… grab on. Little paws. All night.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “Are you comparing us to sea otters?”

He shrugs, eyes soft. “I’m just saying, if you wake up and I’m still holding your hand, it’s intentional.”

You roll your eyes, giggling. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Bruce trusted your judgment, your ability to improvise, and above all, your ability to keep up with him on patrol. He didn't need to give you orders every second; a single glance was enough to understand the plan. He also appreciated that you weren't some rebellious kid trying to impress him to stay. You were less trouble than all the others who had come before.

That's why, when the city became too chaotic or everyone else was unavailable, it was your communicator that would ring.

Over time, the police grew accustomed to seeing you alongside the Dark Knight. Commissioner Gordon wasn't even surprised anymore when, instead of Nightwing or Batgirl, it was you descending from a building with Batman.

The criminals also learned your name. They knew that if you showed up, the chances of escape would decrease dramatically.

And, in a surprisingly short time, you had already faced a long list of Gotham's most dangerous criminals. Names you only knew from Batman's files or the news a few years ago: the Joker, the Penguin, the Riddler, the Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, and, of course, Two-Face.

You never imagined that those figures, almost mythical to any citizen, would end up becoming part of your daily routine. Each one had their own methods, their own quirks, and a different way of challenging Batman. Over time, you learned to adapt to them all, to anticipate their moves, and even to recognize when one of them was planning something big.

However, there was one who was very creative, as you had faced him at least three nights in the same week.

At first, it seemed like a simple coincidence. Two-Face frequently appeared in the operations you were involved in. Then, he started ignoring opportunities to escape in order to confront you personally. Later, he stopped being content with just exchanging a few words during battles.

Nobody paid any attention to it. After all, Gotham was full of obsessive men.

But this was not a simple rivalry; it was the beginning of a fixation that, as the months passed, would end up becoming a dangerous obsession on the part of the renowned Harvey Dent.

One night a call came in shortly after midnight.

One of Batman's informants had obtained a crucial lead: Two-Face was planning to meet with several members of Gotham's mafia at an old dockside warehouse. According to the information, a deal involving weapons and money from various criminal families would be finalized there.

So less than twenty minutes later, the Batmobile stopped a few blocks away.

The building was enormous. An old brick industrial warehouse, abandoned for years, its only light coming from a few exterior spotlights that flickered intermittently. The wind creaked the rusted sheets of the roof while the harbor water lapped gently against the wooden pilings.

Batman scanned the building through the visor of his cowl. "I see no movement."

"Perhaps we arrived ahead of schedule," you whispered.

The place was unsettling; it was too quiet and gloomy given the poor visibility due to the lack of lights. Inside, hundreds of containers, wooden crates, and machinery covered by tarpaulins formed a veritable labyrinth.

Batman raised a hand, signaling you to stop. He crouched down next to some fresh footprints.

"These ones are new."

"So someone was here."

"Or is it still here..."

They continued advancing in silence; only their muffled footsteps and the steady drip of water from the ceiling could be heard. Suddenly, Batman's communicator emitted a faint beep, and a heat signature appeared in his visor.

"Movement on the second level." he looked up at the metal walkways. "I'm going upstairs. You check the east side. If you find anything, don't act alone."

You nodded.

It wasn't the first time they had separated during a patrol; they were both used to working that way, and he knew you would take his words into account.

You waited for Batman to disappear into the shadows before continuing, as you moved forward between the containers, the feeling of discomfort increasing.

It was as if someone was watching you.

You turned slowly, but there was nothing in that area, only darkness accompanied you. You took a deep breath and continued, but a faint metallic noise resonated behind you.

Then a box fell several meters away. Instinctively you ran towards the sound, and as soon as you crossed the narrow passage formed by two rows of containers, several metal gates crashed down behind and in front of you.

You were locked in.

"Batman!" You reached for the communicator, but only heard static.

The signal had been blocked.

Before you could react, four men emerged from the shadows. They were Two-Face's men.

The first one tried to grab you, but you knocked him down with an elbow to the jaw, the second one received a kick that threw him against a container, the third one managed to fire, forcing you to take cover behind some boxes.

You knew you couldn't stay trapped there, you threw a batarang, cutting the lights in the hallway, the darkness was on your side.

For a few seconds, there were only thumps, muffled screams, and the sound of metal hitting the ground. One after another, the men fell. And when the last one finally lay unconscious, you sighed.

It was over, or at least that's what you thought.

A voice sounded behind you. "The boss said we couldn't fail."

You turned around too late; something heavy had hit the back of your head hard.

A sharp pain shot through your skull, your knees gave way instantly leaving you completely dizzy and blind, while through the ringing in your ears you heard footsteps approaching.

"Is she alive?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect... The boss made it very clear he didn't want a scratch on her, kill the idiot who shot her."

Before you completely lost consciousness, you saw a pair of elegant black boots stop in front of you.

Then a silver coin fell to the floor and Harvey Dent's face flashed before your eyes for just a second. "Take her."

Everything went black.

The return to consciousness was slow and painful.

Before you opened your eyes, a sharp thump hammered at the back of your head. The thump was still there, pulsing insistently, as if each beat of your heart echoed against your skull.

The air was cold, damp, with that unmistakable smell of old wood and dust accumulated over years.

You slowly opened your eyes. The light was dim, barely enough to make out the shapes in the room. A single lamp hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly and casting irregular shadows on the walls.

You blinked several times, trying to focus; it wasn't common to be surprised by someone hitting your head until you lost consciousness, how painful it all was.

The first thing you did was try to get up, but a strong pull in your wrists prevented you from doing so.

Looking down, you saw steel handcuffs encircling both your wrists, securing them to the armrests of an old wooden chair. These weren't makeshift handcuffs; they were reinforced and bolted directly to the chair's frame. You pulled a second time, harder, but barely managed to budge the chair a few inches off the ground.

You took a deep breath to force yourself to think clearly; you couldn't exert force, it only made your head throb even more and you weren't going to get anywhere. You had to find another way to solve it, but first, rule number one: don't panic.

You could hear Bruce's voice telling you that.

As long as you remained calm, there would always be a chance to escape. You looked up and finally took in your surroundings.

The room was enormous; several rows of wooden benches stretched out before you, covered with a thin layer of dust. To one side still stood the judge's bench, raised above the rest of the room, and behind it hung the Gotham crest, cracked in two. The windows were completely boarded up, preventing any light from entering.

An old courthouse in one of the abandoned buildings.

An almost ironic choice for Harvey Dent. The former district attorney had turned a place dedicated to administering justice into his hideout for a kidnapping.

You couldn't keep dwelling on the situation you were in because the sound of a door opening broke the silence.

The footsteps echoed on the wooden floor with an unsettling calmness. Then Harvey appeared, or at least what was left of Harvey Dent.

His figure emerged from the shadows with the same elegance he had once possessed as Gotham's district attorney. The undamaged side of his suit remained impeccably pressed, while the other half was charred and torn, as was the deformed skin of his face.

He carried a revolver in one hand and in the other, he absentmindedly twirled his characteristic silver coin between his fingers.

He entered the room, his gaze fixed on you, his attention so intense it sent a shiver down your spine, and stopped just a few feet away from you.

The only sound was the soft clinking of the coin as it passed from one finger to another.

You were the one who finally broke that awkward silence. "I have to admit, this is a pretty extreme method for starting a conversation."

The corner of his mouth, on the good side, curled slightly. "If I had invited you, you wouldn't have come." His voice was calm, as if they were talking in a coffee shop and not in an abandoned courtroom with you handcuffed in front of him.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Well... I mean, you can't blame me."

Harvey did not respond immediately.

He simply pulled a chair from among the benches in the courtroom. The scrape of the wood against the floor echoed throughout the room as he slowly moved it closer until it was right in front of you.

He rested his forearms on his knees, holding the coin between his fingers, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, and that was what was truly unsettling.

He wasn't interrogating you, he didn't want information about Batman, he didn't even seem interested in threatening you. It was as if he'd been waiting for this moment for a long time and, now that he finally had it, he didn't quite know where to begin.

Harvey remained seated in front of you without saying a single word.

The chair he had dragged until it was in front of yours creaked every time he shifted his position slightly. Between his fingers, the coin twirled with an almost mechanical skill; it seemed an unconscious movement, a habit acquired after so many years.

You, on the other hand, did not take your eyes off the handcuffs that bound your wrists.

His gaze drifted down to your wrists. "Are they too tight?"

You blinked, confused. "Pardon?"

"The handcuffs." he made a small gesture with his head, indicating them. "I didn't want them to be so tight."

You watched him, unsure if he was joking to annoy you or what was wrong with him, but his expression remained completely neutral.

"Kidnap me"

He barely inclined his head. "Yes."

You waited for an explanation or for him to continue talking so you could get some information, but nothing, and the silence became increasingly uncomfortable.

You exhaled slowly through your nose. "And you don't see anything strange about all this and what you're saying?"

The coin stopped spinning for a moment. Harvey held it between his thumb and forefinger before answering. "No."

He didn't really find anything strange about the situation.

"Batman is coming."

"I know."

"And when he arrives..."

"He'll try to get you out of here."

"So... why do it?"

Harvey looked down at the coin and rolled it slowly on his knuckles. "Because you'll be here for a few hours."

You frowned. "What?"

He looked at you again. "Without him."

You didn't understand.

"Whenever we meet, Batman is in the way." His voice remained measured. "There are always gunshots, explosions, people running; we can never finish a conversation."

You looked at him in disbelief, what the hell was happening? The signs that he was out of his mind were obvious, but this was something, you had to be smart if you wanted to get out of here alive.

Where the hell is Batman when someone needs him?

"Conversation? Harvey, every time we meet you try to shoot me."

"I've never shot at you."

The statement came from his lips with such certainty that it made you fall silent, leaving you to mentally review each confrontation.

And suddenly you realized he was right, what a strange feeling to think that a murderer and criminal like Two-Face was right, the hit and his timeshare were damaging your mind.

He had shot at Batman, at the police, at vehicles, but never directly at you.

What a romantic man, right?

Harvey noticed the change in your expression. "You remembered." He leaned back in his chair. "That's why I needed to bring you here."

"You need to?"

He nodded slowly. "It's the only way you'll stay long enough."

The casual way he uttered that sentence was far more unsettling than any threat. He spoke like someone who had reached a perfectly reasonable conclusion after analyzing all the possibilities.

You would escape, Batman would appear, and the conversations would end.

So he removed the only thing that was preventing you from staying there and

He kidnapped you.

And, judging by the serene expression on his face, it was clear that he didn't understand why that should seem like madness to you.

"Enough time for what?" you asked in a low voice.

Harvey held your gaze, the coin had stopped spinning between his fingers. For the first time since you had woken up, he seemed to hesitate.

He opened his mouth, ready to answer.

But a loud crash shook the entire room.

The old skylight exploded above their heads, sending hundreds of shards of glass hurtling to the ground.

Harvey barely had time to look up when a black figure descended, wrapped in a cloak.

Batman.

He didn't even have time to react; a punch landed squarely on the uninjured side of his jaw, forcing him back. Before he could regain his balance, Batman spun around and connected with a second, direct blow to his face.

Harvey fell heavily onto the wooden floor. The revolver slipped several meters. The coin slipped from his fingers, spinning on the floor before coming to a stop next to one of the benches.

"Are you okay?" Batman asked without taking his eyes off Harvey, making sure he remained unconscious.

Before you could answer, another figure descended using a cable from the hole in the ceiling.

"God!"

Nightwing landed almost immediately in front of you, and in two strides he was by your side. He knelt in front of the chair as he pulled a small tool from his belt. "Let me see..."

Her hands moved swiftly over the handcuffs. You could sense the confidence in every movement.

"Did it hurt you?" he asked as he tried to open the mechanism.

You shook your head. "Just... one hit."

He looked up immediately. His eyes scanned your face until they settled on the bruise that was beginning to form near your hairline. "Did he hit you?"

"It wasn't him, one of his men."

Nightwing clenched his jaw.

A metallic click announced that the first handcuff had opened. Then the second, and the chains fell to the floor with a thud.

As soon as your hands were free, Dick carefully grasped your wrists, examining the reddish marks the steel had left on your skin. "Look at me."

You obeyed.

He placed a hand on your cheek and then on the back of your head with a gentleness uncharacteristic of someone who had just stepped into an operation. "Are you feeling dizzy?"

"A bit."

"Are you seeing double?"

You smiled wearily."I only see you once, luckily."

Dick let out a breath through his nose, somewhere between relieved and frustrated. "Don't joke around now."

Without thinking twice, he placed a hand on your shoulder to help you up and held you by the waist before you could even feel dizzy. "Relax, I've got you."

Batman, who had already secured Harvey with reinforced handcuffs, looked up for barely a second. He simply checked that you were in Dick's hands and refocused on the prisoner.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he helped you up.

Still dazed from the blow to the head, you nodded."I've had better nights."

He let out a relieved smile. "Yes... I can tell"

Harvey, still dazed from the blows, slowly began to regain consciousness.

The first thing he saw when he opened the only eye he could focus on was Nightwing holding him with a closeness that did not go unnoticed.

Then he saw how, almost instinctively, you placed a hand on Dick's arm to keep your balance. And finally, he heard the phrase that made everything fall into place.