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leviackermanstoes · 13 days ago

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SHE JUST WANTS TO F**K ME ALL THE TIME ▬▬ ( Dick grayson )

tw:sex, nothing too explicit cause I'm afraid of success

summary:Dick loved sex, and thought no one could surpass how high his sex drive is, until he started a relationship with you and you are all the time trying to get him to fuck you.

pairing:dick grayson x fem reader

open request ‐ dick grayson masterlist

"I tried to leave the house but she won't let me out."

"Again? "

The morning had been a bit rough for Dick, he'd woken up to your ass moving painfully on his cock, leaving him ready for their usual morning fuck.

Dick is shirtless, sweaty, his hair a mess, and the sheets still stuck to his back. He shakes his head, chuckling as you try to drag him back toward you by the waistband of his boxers.

Your fingers play with the elastic, and your eyes are begging for one more round. “It’s your fault,” you murmur, leaving wet kisses on his abdomen. “You shouldn’t look like this right after we finish. You tempt me all the time.”

He lets out a hoarse laugh and drops back onto the bed, propped up on his elbows. "You're literally draining me."

"You're more than fit, Nightwing. You can handle another one."

"You think so?" In a second, his expression changes. Dick grabs you by the wrists, twists your body with ridiculous ease, and leaves you beneath him, one knee between your legs and your arms pinned above your head.

"You know normal people only get one round?" he mutters playfully.

He slides his mouth down your neck, to your collarbone. He sucks right where you know he'll leave a mark. His hands release your wrists, but only to run his rough hands all over your naked body, stroking that impatient, dripping pussy of yours.

"That's it," he whispers against your ear. "You're going to make me late again, you know?"

You don't answer. You just moan under his touch, and that brings out a cocky smile from him. He knew the answer. He always does.

His fingers sink into you without warning, moving with a delicious rhythm that forces your back to arch. But he gives you no respite.

"Did you want another round, gorgeous?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours, barely touching you. "Then you're going to earn it."

Before you can say anything, he's already sliding down. He spreads your legs with ease and begins to eat you out with a mixture of hunger and devotion that leaves you breathless. His tongue works as if it has a damn mission. And in part, it does: to leave you so trembling that you can't drag him back down for hours.

Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging unintentionally as your body writhes beneath his mouth.

"Dick... please..."

"Please, what?" he asks in a husky voice, his lips wet, his eyes shining with perversion. "Did you want another one? I'll give it to you. But I'll ruin you first."

▬★

"She wants me at the party, she wants me at the mall"

Dick Grayson always looks impeccable, but there was no better version than Dick Grayson in a tailored black suit, his blue tie, charming smile, and his usual confident posture. He's an expert at moving through high society without losing that mischievous air that distinguishes him. And, as always, he has the attention of every woman in the room.

You just watch him from a distance, drink in hand, dressed in that dress he'd picked out for you once. The one that left him spellbound, so he couldn't take his eyes off your chest. And every movement you made made Dick want to forget about the gala, about Bruce, about all of Gotham.

Since he looked so good in that white shirt that perfectly covered his hard-working body, the one you slept in every night, you should definitely make him wear more suits.

You approached him through the crowd, Dick interrupts his conversation kindly once he sees you closer.

“Can we talk for a second?” you asked, in the sweetest tone you could muster, not letting on any malice you had in mind.

Dick nods immediately, and reflexively follows you without asking any questions.

You lead him down one of the hall's side corridors, to a quiet area, away from the hustle and bustle and prying eyes. The light is soft, golden. The sound of the music barely reaches you. Dick crosses his arms, curious.

“What's up?” he asks with a smile. “Are you bored without me?”

You chuckled softly and shook your head, taking a step closer. Your eyes were brighter than ever, with that mischievous reflex you usually had when you wanted to tell him something in secret. You fiddled with the fabric of your own dress, lowering your gaze slightly, as if you were embarrassed by what you were about to say.

“It’s just… I don’t know if I should say this now,” you whisper, biting your lip.

Dick leans in slightly, intrigued. “Tell me what, swet heart?” He runs his hand gently through your hair, gently tucking a strand behind your ear.

You looked up, looked at him with those good-girl eyes he knew so well. And you let go, softly, sweetly, as if you were saying "I love you" for the first time.

“I want to suck your cock.”

The silence is immediate.

Dick blinks. Once. Twice. The air suddenly feels thick. He stands there, staring at her, processing the sentence. Because it wasn't just what you said. It was how she said it. So cute, so damn sweet.

“You…” he begins, a nervous laugh escaping him. “You can’t say that like that, not here. Not with that voice.”

You tilted your head, pretending not to understand. “What did I do wrong?”

“What did you do wrong?” he repeats, his eyes darting around, as if he were already deciding which wall to use. “Do you know what you do to me when you talk like that?”

You shake your head with completely feigned innocence. “What if I just… walk you to your car? Just a second. Just to… distract you, you look a little overwhelmed,” you say, running a finger along his tie.

Dick closes his eyes for a moment, as if it takes all his willpower not to drag her down that hallway right now. “You’re going to be the death of me. You know that, right?”

Dick didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took your hand firmly, and without looking back, led you through one of the side doors that led to the building's private parking lot. No one saw them. No one dared to stop him.

The car was just steps away. One of Bruce's. Tinted windows, total luxury… and, above all, privacy.

He opened the back door without a word, and before you could even mock his urgency, he'd helped you in carefully, without wrinkling your dress too much. He closed it behind him and stared at you, still kneeling in the seat, breathing heavily.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he murmured, unable to stop staring at your mouth.

You, with the same innocent sweetness as before, leaned towards him, brought your hands to the knot of his blue tie and slowly loosened it.

“I have a couple of ideas, but we need more space.”

Your fingers moved down his white shirt, unbuttoning the first button, then the second… but Dick was barely breathing. His gaze burned, fixed on you, somewhere between exhaustion and on the verge of collapse.

Slowly, you knelt between the seats, your smile as soft as it was dangerous.

“Is this okay?” you asked in a low voice, unbuckling his belt with a skill only someone who knew him so well could possess.

Dick let out a stifled laugh, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the seat. "Now you're worried about that?"

You looked at him once more, as if seeking confirmation that he really wanted this. He looked back at you, completely lost in you.

And then you did it .

Slowly, as if you were tasting a sweet treat for the first time. Caressing him with your lips, with your tongue, with that tenderness and adoration that only you knew how to turn into torture.

Dick placed one hand against the fogged-up glass of the car, the other on the back of your neck, not pressing you, just holding you, as if he needed to hold on to something real to keep from losing control.

Your every move was measured, precise, delicate, and devastating at the same time. You knew him so well that you knew exactly when to speed up, when to play, when to stop for a second and look down on him, with that angelic face that had already earned its place in heaven...

▬▬★

"She just wants to fuck me all the time"

The sound of gloves hitting, the creaking of mats, and the rhythmic panting of labored breaths filled the space. you were in the middle of a sparring session. you and Dick, face to face on the mat, exchanging measured but intense blows.

He was focused, sweaty, his black T-shirt clinging to his body, his arm muscles flexing with every movement. Every kick, every spin, made him look even more irresistible. There was no way to hide it: you were distracted. Very distracted.

The roll of his hips as he kicked. The way he panted. The deep sound of his voice as he gave orders. Your mind wasn't on the practice. It was on his body above yours.

At one point, he takes a few steps back to give you space. He cranes his neck, wipes the sweat with the back of his forearm, and looks at you.

"Your turn. come on"

His voice snaps you out of your trance, but it's too late. You're horny. Too horny to be honest.

You stand, hiding it as best you can, but as soon as you get close, he notices. Dick always notices. Your dilated pupils. Your breathing. The way you lower your gaze directly to his neck.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Are you okay?”

"Perfect" you lie.

"Then fight," he smiles, giving you the first soft blow with his glove, as a provocation.

But as soon as you're in front of him, you give in to temptation. Your hand doesn't go to the glove. It goes to the collar of his shirt. You get closer than necessary. Your lips brush his ear. "You're all sweaty... it smells so good..."

Dick lets out a grunt and in a second he has you cornered against the mat wall, his forearm blocking your way. "Are you horny? Here, while we're training? such a needy whore" he whispers, his voice tense and dark.

"It's not my fault you're so fucking sexy when you give orders."

He looks you for a few seconds, assessing. Then he shakes his head, a crooked smile crossing his face."You're impossible."

He quickly spins you around, pressing your body against the wall, his hard crotch already resting against your ass. His hand moves straight down to your crotch inside your leggings, and when he feels how wet you are, he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Jesus Christ… You’re soaked."

Dick already had his hand inside your leggings when you reacted with a sly smile.

"I'm not going to let you win that easily," you whisper to him, just before turning around abruptly.

He didn't expect it.

You hook him with a swift kick to the thigh and take advantage of his slightest distraction to pull on his arm, knocking him off balance. You both fall to the mat with a thud, but you remain on top, with your knees on either side of his hips.

Dick snorts, clearly surprised, and looks at you with a mixture of pride and annoyance. "Are you playing, or do you want to fight for real?"

"this is my foreplay " you say, with a mischievous smile. You lean over him, placing one hand firmly on his chest while the other goes straight to his waist. He doesn't even move. He just watches you, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't even think about it… "

But you don't let him finish. With a swift movement, you push your hips down, positioning yourself right over his erection through his clothes. The moan he lets out isn't from pain. It's pure instinct.

"What are you doing?" he growls, grabbing your hips. "This is a workout, not an invitation to fuck me with my clothes on."

“Then take me down,” you challenge, starting to move slowly, pressing your core against his member with a friction that draws a low sigh from you.

He grits his teeth. His hands tighten around your waist, as if he's struggling between pushing you off him and pushing you closer. "You're a fucking temptation," he says, his voice deep and husky. "A fucking distraction with legs."

"You're too weak," you tease. "Look at you, you can't even concentrate."

He flips you over with a ferocious snarl, trapping you underneath him in the blink of an eye, his body pressing yours into the mats.

But just as he's about to rip your leggings off...

"Richard." Bruce's dry voice comes back through the cave's speaker.

The silence falls. Dick rests his forehead against your collarbone. He says nothing.

"Five minutes until you are dressed and out."

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leviackermanstoes · 1 month ago

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Malfunction (Optimus Prime X Human!Fem Reader)

Summary: A strange Cybertronian signal infiltrates Optimus’s systems, overriding his usual restraint and amplifying his sensory responses. Every sound, every touch, every thought of you sends unbearable waves of pleasure through his frame. He resists at first—but when you touch him, even accidentally, his control snaps.

Warnings: AI corruption, Size Difference, smut, curse words, transformer x human sex, rough sex, rough oral sex (female receiving), overstimulation, brutal thrusting, breeding, full penetration, degradation, forced stretching, desperate Optimus, slight dub con, dirty talk

The strange Cybertronian signal has been affecting Optimus all day, his body tense, his voice thick with static-laced restraint. You notice the way his optics flicker whenever you get too close, the way his massive hands flex as if he’s holding himself back.

"Something… is wrong," he finally confesses, voice strained. "Every sensation is… amplified. You—" His optics darken, tracking the way you shift under his intense gaze. "I cannot focus when you are near."

And then, you make a mistake.

You touch him.

The instant your fingers graze his heated plating, a deep growl erupts from his chassis. His entire frame shudders, and his massive hands shoot out, grabbing you, caging you against him. His optics burn into you, his vents cycling erratically.

"You shouldn’t have done that." His voice is low, almost dangerous, thick with something primal.

Before you can react, he’s lifting you—effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing—pressing you against the cool metal wall of the Autobot base. The size difference is staggering; his body dwarfs yours completely, his massive frame surrounding you, pressing you down, trapping you in his overwhelming presence.

"I can’t stop," he groans, his servo sliding under your clothes, fingers dragging roughly over your bare skin. His touch is hot, desperate, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. "I need to taste you."

He doesn’t wait for permission.

You gasp as he lowers you, his enormous frame sinking down, positioning you exactly where he wants you. His optics flicker, scanning you with predatory intent as he spreads you open, his thick digits gripping your thighs.

And then—his mouth.

His glossa (Cybertronian tongue) is bigger than it should be, hot and flexible, pressing against your aching heat in long, devastating strokes. The size difference makes everything overwhelming—his sheer power, the way he holds you in place, how easily he could devour you whole if he wanted to.

"So small… so fragile… and yet you take it so well," he groans, voice vibrating through your core.

His grip tightens, his massive hands keeping you spread open as he ravages you, his pace rough, insatiable. His deep growls send shockwaves through your body, his mouth working you open with relentless precision.

He’s too big, too strong, too much, and yet you can’t stop screaming his name.

He doesn’t stop when you come. He doesn’t even slow down. If anything, the taste of you only makes him hungrier. His deep, reverberating purr vibrates through you as he buries his face deeper between your thighs, dragging another orgasm out of you before you’ve even recovered from the first.

"Again," he commands, voice dark and wrecked with need. "You’re not done yet."

Your overstimulated whimpers only make him more desperate, his grip tightening as he devours you, utterly addicted to the sounds you make, to the way you break under his touch.

By the time he finally pulls back, you’re trembling, your body wrecked from the intensity of his mouth. But Optimus isn’t done. Not even close.

His massive fingers stroke over your slick thighs, spreading you wider, his optics dark with hunger. His vents stutter as he towers over you once again, his sheer size pressing down on you.

"That was only the beginning," he growls, his massive form caging you against the wall. "Now… let’s see how much more you can take."

The sheer heat of him makes you shudder. His panel shifts with a mechanical hiss, and fuck, he’s huge. Thick, ridged plating lined with Cybertronian biolights, far too big for a human body—yet he’s determined to make you take it anyway.

"You’re going to stretch for me," he rasps, pressing the tip against your slick entrance, the difference in size making you whimper. "It’s going to hurt, little one… but you’ll take it."

He doesn’t ease in. He forces his way inside.

A strangled cry rips from your throat as his massive shaft pushes in, spreading you wider than should be possible. The stretch is unbearable, your body resisting, but Optimus doesn’t stop. His grip on your hips tightens, pinning you down as he forces every thick inch inside.

"Look at you," he groans, voice laced with raw lust. "So fucking small, struggling to take my cock."

You claw at his plating, nails scratching uselessly against the metal, but he only laughs, a deep, dark sound vibrating through you.

"Hurts, doesn’t it?" he mocks, thrusting another inch inside, making you scream. "You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to be fucking ruined by me."

The stretch is unbearable, your body too tight, but the pleasure is just as overwhelming. He’s grinding against nerves you didn’t even know existed, forcing your body to adjust to his impossible size.

"Pathetic little human," he growls, voice thick with static-laced pleasure. "Crying like you can’t take it— but look at you. You’re dripping all over my cock, sucking me in like a desperate little whore."

Your mind is spinning, your body overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of being filled so completely. Every slow, brutal thrust forces another choked gasp from your lips.

And then—he starts moving for real.

Optimus doesn’t hold back. Once he’s inside, once he feels the way you squeeze around him, something snaps.

"I’m done being gentle."

His grip tightens, and then he slams into you.

The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, your body jerking against the wall as he drives his cock in deep, his sheer strength keeping you pinned. The brutal stretch is too much, your mind dissolving into raw pleasure as he pounds into you with reckless force.

"Fucking take it," he snarls, thrusting harder, his metal body unyielding, slamming you into the wall with every brutal snap of his hips. "You’re mine. Made to take my cock. Nothing else fucking matters."

His engine roars, his frame shaking with the effort of holding back from completely breaking you. But even as he ruins you, he keeps talking, his deep, growling voice making you clench around him.

"Listen to yourself," he huffs, pressing his forehead against yours, optics locked onto your wrecked expression. "Whimpering, crying— and yet you keep spreading your legs for me. You love this, don’t you? You love being fucking wrecked by something this big."

You can’t even speak. Every rough, punishing thrust sends shockwaves through your body, your nails digging into his plating.

"You were made for this," he groans, his pace brutal, his thick shaft stretching you past your limit. "Made to be fucking bred by me."

That’s what finally breaks you.

Your orgasm slams into you with blinding force, your body spasming around him, clenching so tight he growls, his own movements turning ragged. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down. He fucks you through it, overstimulating you until you’re sobbing from the pleasure.

"I’m not done," he growls, pressing his forehead against yours. "Not until I’ve filled you. Not until you’re leaking with my transfluid, dripping with proof that you belong to me."

His movements grow desperate, his thrusts turning animalistic, his deep moans vibrating against your skin. He’s close—his vents stuttering, his fingers bruising your skin as he slams into you with reckless force.

"Gonna fill you up," he groans, thrusting deep. "Gonna fucking ruin you."

You’re still shaking from your first orgasm when his final thrust slams inside, his entire frame locking up. His grip tightens, and then—heat.

Liquid metal warmth floods your core as he comes, a deep, wrecked growl tearing from his throat. His overload is violent, his entire frame trembling as he pumps you full, his transfluid so much that it leaks out, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t move for a moment, his massive frame shuddering. Then, his grip loosens, and he pulls out, watching with dark optics as his thick release spills from your stretched, ruined hole.

"Look at that," he murmurs, his fingers gathering the mess between your thighs. "So full of me."

Even now, his optics burn with hunger.

"I hope you’re not too tired," he warns, voice dark and dangerous. "Because I’m not nearly finished with you."

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