you clutch the bleeding gash on your arm, chest heaving and mouth gaped open, inhaling any clean air you can get. you’re crouched down against a random wall in a back alley, makeshift hero— fine, vigilante— outfit practically torn to shreds. your own glass being thrown back at you with the villains wind quirk. if only your genes included anti penetrable skin to go with your glass quirk. you can produce glass sheets at will, the thicker and bigger the sheets the more taxing on your body. you’re sure you could do different shapes if you were professionally trained but you weren’t. not like the pro hero bothering you right now.
dynamight, the number three pro hero, didn’t currently look like dynamight, nor bakugou, the man out of the suit. this man, huge and stocky in proportions, is katsuki, in his black surgical mask, black knitted beanie and black hoodie zipped to the top. the ruby eyes and the dirty blonde of his hair peeks out, the only colour you can see in this dark and dingy back alley.
you won’t lie, you’re happy to see him tonight.
“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
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Horny! Adrian, whose caught off guard when you walk into the men's bathroom as he's changing out of his suit, leaving him in his white underwear and has to guide you out, placing his hands on your shoulders, because you refuse to open your eyes out of embarrassment, which also makes it hard for you to relocate the door. You mutter a string of apologies up until he pushes you out that door, and is grateful you keep your eyes shut so you can't see the bulge growing in his underwear with every second that passes.
Horny! Adrian, who agrees to spar with you, and foils your attempt at a leg lock around his head, which results in your legs resting on his shoulders as he pushes you into the floor, mimicking a mating press, which has him bucking up into you. You gasp and squirm in his grasp, grinding into him in a failed attempt to move away. He quickly pulls away, profusely apologising, even though he loved watching you squirm under him all breathless. He doesn't mention anything about the way you pressed into him, or how you rubbed your thighs together after.
Horny! Adrian, who is such a good friend, accepts your request for help when you're drunk, which results in him laying you in your bed on your back, with your legs spread in front of him, making his mind run wild. He starts to undress you, at your request, but you ask him to do it with his eyes closed, which ends up feeling more intimate than it was meant to. He runs his fingers over your soft legs as he pulls your jeans off. He then runs them back up, grabbing your hips to move you closer, feeling his way up your body, pushing your shirt up which allows his fingers to graze your lace bra, before pulling your top off you. He gropes around for one of his shirts, sitting you up to lean against his chest as he slides it on you. Out of respect, he tucks you into his bed, and camps on the floor with a pillow and a couple of blankets. However, once he's sure you're knocked out, he finds his hand wandering south, thinking back to your sparring session earlier, quietly stroking himself, finding his gaze drifting back to you no matter how much he tries to look away. He imagines pulling apart your pussy with his fingers and watching his cock slowly slide in, stretching you open as he bottoms out, pulling the most sinful noises from you. He hears you shuffling in your sleep, rotating to face him, and despite knowing he should stop, he can't help but quicken his strokes, cumming within seconds, wishing it was in you instead.
Horny! Adrian who lets himself into your place because you asked him to help set some things up for the party before the others arrive. He hears you breathlessly call his name, following it to your room, finding you sprawled out on your bed, with a vibrator between your legs, not calling, moaning his name. He can’t help how hard he gets, watching the way face contorts in pleasure as you concentrate, your breathing picking up the closer you get to reaching the climaxing. He pushes his pants down, and before you even register he's there, he's pushing his cock inside you, breaking you out of the little trance you were in as you realize he's here, in your house, with his dick inside you…and you don't mind.
“I'm so sorry, you just looked so pretty…here, lemme do that.” He says, grabbing your vibrator, holding it to your clit as he thrusts in and out of you. You don't protest, bathing in the immense pleasure he's giving you, instead, you wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer, becoming a moaning mess as he picks up his pace. You run your hands through his hair, pulling him towards you to consume his lips, moaning into his mouth as he finally tips over the edge you've been chasing for the past hour. He follows seconds later due to how absurdly hot this whole situation is, mumbling incoherently against your lips as he rode out his high.
Summary : You’ve been dating Adrian for four weeks slow kisses, long looks, not much more. But tonight, things go further. What starts soft turns intense, and Adrian makes sure your first time is everything it should be: messy, honest, and unforgettable.
Tags/ warnings : SMUT MDNI, Reader is inexperienced but fully consenting, Humor during sex (it’s Adrian, he can’t help it), unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving) dirty talk, slight dom!adrian, little to no plot
A/N : Hellloooooo honestly it’s Kinktober so why not. I’m in love with this dork.
Comments, tags, and reblogs with reaction memes always make my day 🩵
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The date wasn’t fancy. It never was with Adrian.
Some random horror movie you’d never heard of, snacks you definitely weren’t allowed to bring into the theater (but did anyway), and a long walk back to his apartment where he tried, unsuccessfully, to jump-scare you half a dozen times. He almost tripped over a trash can doing it once.
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.”
He grins, completely unashamed. “Yeah, but I’m your weirdo.”
An insight into yours and Bruce's time patrolling and the aftermath
CW: not proofread, kinda needy bruce, teasing reader, established relationship
The lioness NEVER concerns herself with architectural accuracy
Bruce Wayne never thought that he would have a functional relationship like he currently has with you.
You understand each other, care for each other, love each other…most importantly you’re both able to spend time together!
“Warehouse down near the docks, using Wayne industry supplies.” Bruce spoke aloud.
He’s stood atop a tower with the darkness of the cape flapping in the wind, and a permanent scowl behind his mask, scrutinising the sight below as men shift about the area, hauling boxes and chatting louder than they probably should be.
Meanwhile you were perched on the opposing rooftop, “About twenty to thirty guys down there, using Wayne enterprise equipment too?” You pause and snicker to yourself which Bruce can hear, and you add, “Geez that Bruce Wayne pretty-boy must be a real jerk for letting his stuff be used in this way.”
From your earpiece a mild grumble simmered before a prompt reply came, “Perhaps Mr Wayne is unaware of these particular actions. You fail to consider the possibility that this is stolen property or equipment repurposed.”
He recognised your teasing, that doesn’t mean he can’t be annoyed—or act like he is.
You laugh quietly, but in order to save your own partner from the quiet sulking at home, you let out a playful, “Of course” Schooling your tone, you finish off, “ Anyway, we should drop in through the west entrance into the warehouse.”
“Yes, cameras show that people are stationed densely east and north. The least amount of eyes are on the West, though there’s still a lot.”
“Yeah…that’s literally why I suggested it.”
A minor huff escapes his nose, this time this is perceivable to be a noise of amusement as he assures, “Making sure we’re on the same page, nothing more.”
You lean down to secure the final zip ties on henchmen’s wrists, connecting two together back to back and sigh in relief upon completion.
“Nice work, (Hero name).” Your partner complimented, the only adjustment to his face being a softness in his gaze that isn’t there with the other vigilantes he works with, remaining serious.
Stepping back onto your feet, you walk to Bruce, and his gaze follows, admiration filled as he hopes he can catch your own sight in turn.
When your pupils meet and stay focused, it’s like an electric shock between you two despite all the time you both spend together, and the commonplace of each other’s presence in your lives.
The way his heart skipped and pulsed would’ve made the man of steel chatter his teeth, he would think his buddy is on the cusp of death just listening to the way his heart vigorously pumps.
With a smile, your hand plants itself firmly on his chest, moving reverently from the left, swiping to the right then gliding gracefully over his shoulder and let go to fall by your side. “You’re so tense, batsy, need a kiss to relieve that?”
“I think I’ll stick to kissing away from where the police will be in,” he pauses to peer down at the integrated cyber system on the wrist of his suit, “two minutes,”
“Well, I’ll take off. You know where I’ll be,”
At home. He knows it, you know it, and he can’t help but watch with a surge of delight as you grapple away, blowing him a kiss.
He loves it when you blow him kisses, your body vanishing but he soaks in the afterglow of your presence, slowly raising a hand and closing it into a fist as if to catch the invisible petal of affection.
It took a while until he made it to the batcave after providing a few extra details to the officers, but the space was quiet as usual, everyone else was either asleep or on patrol. He stripped down, changing into regular attire, and made his way to the bedroom, almost giddy internally at the prospects of seeing you once again with hurried steps upwards then through the hall of Wayne Manor.
You’re sitting on the bed, typing at your laptop for whatever reason, and the TV on, after all you don’t have to worry about the electricity bill. Hell—go leave all the sinks on for a month and watch the financial burden Bruce will experience…which would be nonexistent.
Nevertheless, you were doing as you liked, your downtime for the day after patrol when Bruce entered the room, indicated by the creak of the door rather than any heavy footsteps.
He stares at how relaxed you look compared to when you guys are out fighting. And then you look up, your lips automatically spreading into a serene smile, rather than the fake grins you shoot to cameras when you both attend events.
“Hey babe, feeling good after patrol?” You asked him, sitting up, punctuated by the ruffle of the bedsheets and duvet, your hair mussed from being mushed against the back of the high headboard. But you didn’t get a response, Bruce rushed over and crashed his lips onto yours, reverently kissing you with both of his hands cupping your face as he expelled his pent up emotion and the built up tension from weeks of exhaustion.
You were surprised by his rough kiss but you melted happily into it. The kiss continues as his hands trail down, reaching for and holding onto your hands. It wasn’t sexual, but it was so unbelievably loving, filled with care as well as adoration. When Bruce pulls away, a sigh escapes him and his own grip pulses with a light squeeze.
Silence carried on, save for him leaning closer with the light peck of his lips against your cheek and a quiet hum escaping his throat. He kept his face there, rubbing his nose against the spot; it wasn't until a minute passed by that he finally spoke up, “Yeah, I’ll be alright, sweetheart,” finally answering your question, voice laced evidently with exhaustion, adding:
“I’ll always be okay when you’re around.”
Yeah, this is definitely his healthiest relationship…
You grumbled. Your heart rate monitor spiked when Jason gave you a kiss and he hasn't stopped laughing about it an hour later. Jason gave you a grin and said with a laugh,
“You are so full of shit.”
You grumbled and tried to sit up to leave. A broken leg couldn’t be more painful than that very moment, but Jason quickly caught on to what you were doing and put a stop to it.
“Ooooh, no you don’t. You aren’t leaving until we can at least put your bone back inside your body.”
He trusted that the doctor put on the cast properly, but he was too cautious to let you stumble around the room. Jason looked too smug, unfortunately, and you were petty enough to attempt a hobbling escape.
You didn’t get far, but Jason knew you meant business if you were willing to push through the blinding pain that Jason was more than familiar with. It was like getting shot by Zeus’s lightning bolt, but you weren’t going to simply lay there while he made jokes. No.
You yelped in pain when Jason scooped you up in his arms and began to carry you back to the medical cot you were placed in. You gave him a glare the entire way. There weren't enough painkillers for you to deal with it.
Jason winced in sympathy as he gently set you down and kissed your forehead. It wouldn’t help the broken bone, but it did make your heart settle back into the steady beating that he loved so much. He may be insufferable, but he was your man and he cared.
You pouted until he rolled his eyes and joined you on the cot like you always seemed to demand after every bad injury. Jason pretended to be annoyed every time, but everybody knew better. Jason loved to cuddle with you and take care of you when you are sick or injured. It made him feel warm to be a caregiver and he enjoyed every second that he spent cuddling together.
Jason placed a soothing hand on your thigh to rub the tension that was being placed on your knees from the cast wrapped tightly around your tibia while you grimaced. You kissed his forehead in gratitude which he countered with kissing your cheek.
“Maybe I don’t hate you after all.”
You teased after finally getting comfortable in his arms. Jason couldn’t keep his amusement off of his face. You seemed to find the perfect spot that was comfortable for both of you naturally and surprisingly quickly. It was impressive how perfect you fit when cuddled against him.
“I think I love you, too, pipsqueak.”
Jason mumbled back soft enough for only the two of you to hear. He knew that everybody was aware that he loved you, but it felt too intimate and tender to breathe into the air of a stuffy cave that nobody wanted to be in.
Jason's hands stilled on your hips. His head looked up as the door to your medical room opened and revealed the family doctor and Bruce, both mumbling too softly for either of you to hear properly.
Everybody stared at each other, but the doctor went straight to business. She said offhandedly,
“You have an elevated heart rate and slightly faster respirations.”
Jason started laughing immediately and you hit him weakly in the chest. Doctor Thompkins remained professional, but she did make note of something in your chart before testing your femoral pulse.
Bruce read the note over her shoulder, frowned, then left after quietly telling Doctor Thompkins that he’d talk to her outside of the room. She waved him off but not before giving Bruce a smile that spoke thousands of words.
You slumped further into Jason’s embrace and buried your face in his neck out of embarrassment. You just knew that Bruce and the doctor were going to be talking about this and Jason was still snickering about it.
“I’m back to hating you.”
You grumbled with no real bite behind the words. Jason laughed louder while you half-heartedly shoved him off the bed. Jason allowed you to push him away, but didn’t allow you to shove him completely off the bed.
Jason knew you wouldn’t shove him away again, so he cuddled closer and smugly smiled. You pouted, but accepted it. He kissed your forehead and said teasingly,
“And you call me grumpy.”
You hid a smile. Jason squeezed you closer and absent-mindedly rubbed circles around your hips peacefully. He always did that when he was thinking about something that he didn’t have the words in his head to explain.
You waited patiently with your head leaning on his chest. He said slowly after a pause of peaceful silence,
“You… do know that I love you, right?”
Jason didn’t know why he was suddenly so concerned about whether or not you knew he loved you, but he knew that it felt important at the moment. Maybe it was because you said you hate him, albeit feebly, but he needed to know that you felt as loved as he felt.
You looked at him with a softness that he was never prepared for but always cherished. You responded warmly,
“I know, jackass. I love you, too.”
Jason’s hands moved to carefully knead up and down your thigh like that was an acceptable answer. He never for one second doubted that you experienced the same love, but he wanted to make sure that you felt the same intensity that he did every day.
Jason never wanted to jeopardize his life with you; he was too deeply in love to risk letting you slip away like water. You looked at him with more love than he felt like he deserved most days.
“I’m never forgiving you for picking a bright yellow cast for my leg, though.”
Jason snorted a laugh. There's that personality that he loved so much. He teased back,
“Someone had to put a warning label on you. It’s impressive how quickly you disregard your safety.”
You playfully bumped your shoulder into his with a smile and received a kiss in response. Despite the broken leg, you had found the night to become oddly romantic.
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summary: Two-Face is a little obsessed with Batman's new partner, so he takes the necessary measures to keep her close, even if it's just for a few hours.
pairing; Harvey Dent x Vigilante!fem!reader
note: If I have to justify this, I'm going to say two things: my fav batman villain, and second, he is hot.
Gotham was a city too big for even Batman to protect alone.
Over the years, the Bat-family had grown precisely for that reason. There were nights when Dick was patrolling Blüdhaven, Barbara Gordon was coordinating operations from the Clock Tower, and Jason, Tim, Damian, or the others were busy with their own missions.
On those occasions, Batman needed someone he could trust without reservation.
That's where you came in.
You were his field partner when circumstances demanded it and when your university life allowed it, but you were happy to help the bat in any way you could.
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.
"Let's go home," Nightwing said softly. "You're safe now."
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader | Vigilante!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Credits: 1 2 3 divider
Summary: The feelings you tried to bury down for a certain green eyed man seem to arise, after waking up with petals in your throat.
Author’s Note: My first fic that I've posted after years so give me grace lol. Also this was supposed to be a oneshot/practise writing and now I have to split it into two parts.
Warnings: Mention of vomiting and blood. Second half was written half asleep without my glasses I apologize.
Prologue
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞
It's funny, you think as you stare at the page in front of you.
These emotions, the feelings that you tried to shove down, the same ones that you've kept a secret to ensure stability in the team and keep your heart from pain, coming to choke you back.
It was never supposed to go this deep.
You've had crushes before; silly little puppy loves throughout life. Nothing your mind spent too much time dwelling on. Hell, you're pretty sure having a crush on Dick was a part of anyone's initiation process to the whole vigilante thing.
But this?
This means something.
For the roots to take hold, the love you feel must already be so buried into your soul, so intwined with your very being that it manifests physically.
…
You’ve screwed up really bad.
You look back at the petals in your hand, seemingly crushed by your fingers as you were lost in thought. Bright yellow with a few strands of pollen, the latter surely making your throat still itch. They’re clean now, along with the rest of your floor. But you think you can still smell that awful mix of sweet and acid.
Yellow feels like a joke. It was the last colour you would associate with him.
Red, obviously. Or green, for his eyes. But staring at the yellow peeking through your fist, you take second to question if it even is him.
You snort out loud.
Of course it's him.
Who else can raise your heart by just entering the room, unknowingly taking all your attention. Who else burrowed so deep into your heart that you don't know how you ever lived without him.
Who else would make you want to be a better person, a person who makes you want live through another day just so you can see him one more time.
Pathetic, a voice sounding too much like Damian, whispers within you. Making yourself vulnerable, making a person your weakness.
You sigh.
You can wallow in your unrequited love any other day. this was not new. What you should be doing is making a plan. How are you going to deal with this.
As far as you know, there are two ways to cure Hanahaki. The obvious confession of feelings, where your get your fairytale romance of requited love and the flowers disappear in an instant as the movies claim. Or the much more reasonable surgery. a simple operation to remove the roots of the plants, along with whatever feelings a person may have.
The risks are high, you know that. The extensive list of side effects listed in the medical book is not an exaggeration. For people who dedicated their lives to their loved ones, few lose their purpose in life.
Cases show they’ve lost interest in all things and stopped being themselves. And other lose their ability to love permanently. Any type of love. But these are not enough stop you.
You sigh. It’s not like you have any other choice. Even confessing to Jason will put you in the same path and you like to be efficient. Quick. Deal with the problem and jump to the next one.
It has nothing to do with clawing feeling in your stomach when you even think about mentioning your feelings to anyone.
*⋆ ☾⋆*
You aren’t afraid to admit you are a scared of Leslie Thompkins — one of the few that could defy Batman and lie to his face. Making her the perfect person to go to.
“Right so you know your options well then” she stares at you, one eyebrow raised.
You try not to shrink under her gaze, keeping a steady front.
“A surgery seems the best”.
You see an imperceptible change in her face though you can’t seem to decipher her emotions. She waits a moment, collecting her words, before nodding.
“Right, if you’re so sure then come down to the clinic a week from now.”
What
Her eyebrow seems to raise higher of possible.
Right. You said that out loud.
“Are you sure there isn’t way to do it much sooner” you plead. You need this done quick, before anybody can find out. Sooner the better
“I’d rather get it done quickly," sounding unashamedly desperate.
“With the recent hijinks in Gotham, some of the medical supplies have been depleting more faster” She shuffles around the white office you both are in, opening a few drawers here and there, “and with your… condition still in the its early stages it’s not too much of a risk to delay the surgery for a few days”
Tell that to your sore throat and the ruined carpet of your living room.
You don’t voice your displeasure, but it must be evident on your face.
She finally comes up to you with a long strip of tablets, and holds it out to you, still talking.
“Take these for whenever you feel an itching in your throat, they would numb the feeling for a while.”
You nod. But halfway to the door, she stops you.
She says your name, “And if you can, I would highly advise you confess. It may do you more good than you think”. There’s a knowing look in her eye.
Right, Alfred and she are close friends, and you don’t bet that Alfred doesn’t have an inkling of your feelings. Didn’t take that man for a gossip but also maybe your feelings are embarrassingly obvious that Doctor Thompkins who you have limited conversations with can also figure them out.
You thank her quietly and leave.
By the time you exit out the back entrance, you feel like you can finally breathe. You scan you’re the rooftops overhead as you make your quick way home. Sure, this goes past the usual paranoia, but you’re keeping your caution at the forefront.
Because you already know what happens if anyone finds out.
You might not be a part of their family, but Bruce always saw you as part of his team. Especially after taking you under his wing for your “nightly” activities.
Tim and Stephanie, your best friends, Dick someone you always looked up to and even Damian, despite the evidence to the contrary, tolerates you to an extent.
And Jason—
You don’t let yourself finish that thought.
It’s basically a love language for them, to try and solve other’s problems whether how intrusive or invasive it may be.
You snicker, knowing their intentions and being a part of that world, you know that’s how they show they care. Hell, you and Stephanie basically camped in Tim’s apartment after a real nasty hit he took during patrol. Had to tie him down to the bed to get him to relax .
Metaphorically. Not really.
Speaking of, Tim might be the first to see any discrepancy in your schedule, just last week asking Dick why he spent 15 minutes more than he usually does at the gym.
It will spread from there to Stephanie and Cass, and then by the end of the day, you’ll have them banging at your door. And your poker face isn’t really up to the task to defy stand against them all. Or maybe Jason already knows how you feel and will come to confront you about it
The familiar feeling of petals builds up in your body. You rub your throat, trying to ease the pain. It seems like the mere mention of him in your thoughts can stir up the flowers.
So, for the next one week to go smoothly, you might need to avoid making any drastic changes, keep the phone calls and the visits to the clinic to a minimum, no matter how much you want a rip out the roots in your lungs.
…You should have used a burner phone to make your appointment.
Fuck.
*⋆ ☾⋆*
You grapple to the nearest building, lowering yourself quietly to the dark alley way. Rats evade your path as you faintly make your way to the dumpsters in the back. And you promptly empty your heart, or in this case lungs out.
The past two days were a breeze, compared to what you thought. Patrols were easy enough, you haven’t met anyone that noticed anything. You postphoned going out with your civilian friends but needed no excuse, for they were so understanding that you nearly wanted to cry for their help anyways, no matter how selfish it was (they didn’t even know who Jason was, no use dragging them into this).
You only crossed paths with Cass who asked about your red eyes, and you’ve made an short excuse of sand getting in, the answer being fortunately interrupted with a mugging, below you.
Bu things seem to get worse for you. The mere thought of Jason in now making you cough, the petals growing in size.
Now, trying to keep the volume at bay, you try to remove the acrid taste from your mouth. It was all blood and petals now. Staining the gravel below.
Ping
A text. And as if by the sheer force of you thinking about him, the text is by him.
-‘Coming’
All the precautions in the world, and thus stupid text is what might expose you.
You should refuse. You ARE going to refuse. It would be crazy not to when just a text makes it hard to breathe.
Just as try to type, to say sorry and refuse, another text comes along.
-‘bad day’
There’s the heavy hitter.
Because this is one thing you can’t refuse. A place for him to unburden himself and somehow being with you seems to do that. And unadmittingly large part of you, wants to see him. To be in his presence as if all your worries would disappear at the sight of him.
Ironic.
But you can do this. Just one night and who knows when you will see him again.
Everything will be fine.
*⋆ ☾⋆*
Jason was having a bad day.
Scratch that, a bad week.
A trail regarding high profile drug dealers led to a dead end, Bruce reprimanded him again in front of the whole team, and to top it all off, a stupid store robbery in the middle his patrol, that usually takes 10 minutes to diffuse, escalated when more guns got to the scene.
And now he’s irritated, annoyed and all the other words in a dictionary. Add a slightly bruised ego to that, everything is trying to get under his skin and all throughout the ordeal, he has been vibrating as if awaiting something.
He knows what it is.
He lands with a soft thump on the small landing, barely qualifying as a balcony. A single lone plant, on the brink of death, occupies the space. Lifting his phone to his face, he can once again see his message to be delivered and read. Just a single reaction of thumbs up.
Typical.
Switching it off, he is now enshrouded in the usual darkness of the night, barely seeing anything beyond the thick curtains covering the glass door. But he can hear you.
Hear you probably standing near the sink, a cacophony of dishes clattering as you stand just a few metres from him. And already a warmth blooms in his chest. He can barely tamp down the small smile and a blush —he’s lucky to be hidden beneath the helmet— tapping on the glass door, not too quick or loud as to betray his eagerness.
Immediately the sound of water stops, and he can your footsteps nearing.
And there you are in all your glory.
He barely raises an arm to wave ‘hi’ when you open the glass door
"Hey,” you say closing the door behind him after he slips in. Removing his helmet, he quietly follows you, as you pad back to the sink.
"3-day old stir fry in the fridge" you answer his unasked question before turning back to your dishes.
It’s quiet in the kitchen, just the sounds of you washing and the microwave buzz.
It’s hard to know when this started. Maybe when you first arrived at his warehouse*, the closest one you knew, though your relationship was still on the rocks. When he finally noticed your injuries after berating you for intruding before quietly slinking off, probably making you think he left you before coming back with a first aid kit. (Then berating you for not going to the Cave anyways)
*to be fair, you thought it was a abandoned and needed a breather to lick your wounds
Or maybe it was just weeks later, seeing him trying to stitch himself in an alleyway near your neighbourhood. The least you could do is provide a clean space for him to heal.
The awkward silence broken by the offer of food, which was the olive branch you both needed. Starting the tradition of crashing into each other’s places, for aid and emergency carb loading in the middle of patrol, quickly transitioning into texting and more casual late-night visits, under the guise of venting.
To his knowledge, the others just think you are at most acquaintances, something both of you haven’t refrained from correcting. You may not have felt it, but he was relieved. These nights essentially becoming a haven, away from everything and everyone.
His thoughts are interrupted by the beeping of the microwave, and after eating for a minute, all while standing at the counter, he finally looks at you.
Tense shoulders, tired eyes and subtle glances at him, you were trying to be inconspicuous.
“Come on then, if you already ate without me, the least you could do is keep me company,” he tries to quip. He doesn’t know what’s worrying you but surely you’ll open up after some time.
"Oh, sorry next time I’ll just wait till 3 am to eat my dinner," you can't help but snark and he finally grins back. You follow him though, to the couch and he sees your shoulders dropping as you lean back.
“You owe me,” you mutter before reaching for the remote. With the background noise of some random sitcom secured, you turn towards him. “Now spill, what’s got you looking like you’re going to break my walls.”
He chuckled through a mouthful of food.
“I would argue you had it worse, you look like you haven’t slept. Or eaten,” he raises his eyebrows.
You just roll your eyes back at him before facing the TV. “If you don’t want to complain what stupid thing Batman made you do today, fine by me.” you huff out.
And he can’t help the loud laugh that escapes him.
This.
This is all he needs.
A selfish part of him may want for more, to not have to restrict himself to these few times a month, craving for a domestic dream. He wants it so bad, to have you by his side, to be the one to take care and be trusted by you, to be everything for you.
He snorts internally. That would your worst nightmare. For you to be tied down to wreck like him, an unstable anomaly that couldn't control his rage. You deserve better, someone whole.
Someone who you wouldn’t have to take care of, to be something that drags you down with him.
He couldn’t prove to you that you were right to keep your distance at first. To be the monster everyone makes him seem like.
It took time to build your trust and to let him in.
He's not going lose it to a pesky thing called love.
"-son? Jason?" he suddenly turns to you, shaking his head from his stupor.
"Everything fine?”, you question him, giving a once-over that shouldn't send shivers down his body. “You seemed a little spaced out?”
"Yeah" a strained laugh rings out. Putting the empty dish on the table, he turns to you.
"So let me tell you what happened on patrol."
And just like that, as he's recalling the day, he can't help exaggerating it, all the tension melting away. All the problems in the world seem so small, for if you are there, by his side in no matter what way, who cares.
