#Nightwing x reader

[killakalx]

18+ content, roleplay (technically), slight breeding kink, short n sweet srry… buttt it’s inspired by this twt link :)

You aren't sure what you expected when you asked to fuck your boyfriend in his suit. at first, the appeal was his looks; somehow, Dick Grayson's perfect physic looks better in skin tight elastic than with nothing at all. but he's different. meaner. almost as if you're nothing more than another delinquient for him to deal with.

Dick—Nightwing—has you pinned on your back, legs closed and folded effortlessly against your chest, gloved hands gripping your thighs. by now tears have welled in your eyes as you weakly paw at his grasp for the third time. "D—ick," you choke out and gasp when his momentum fails to falter, "Dick, I wanna..”

“not my name, doll,” he almost snickers before groaning when you pulse at the name. and without a second to spare, his weight is pressed into you while keeping himself elevated, then he’s pummeling into your sore pussy— if you could hear yourself you’d think you were in a damn porno.

“oh, my god- Nightwing!” your own cry rings out through your body as you curl into yourself, turning away from his almost condescending in humiliation. a wave of pride pangs through his entire being and Dick moans, raven black hair hanging over his cowl when his gaze falls to your cunt.

God, he could keep you here forever. it’s not his usual thing; limiting the closeness between you two, making you beg and cry for a little kiss, not smothering you against his own body. but it’s hard for you not to be shy when you realize your boyfriend is the Nightwing, the same one that bludhaven women just wish were in their bed right now—and that alone makes it much harder for him to not feed is insatiable ego. “little louder and i just might give it to ya,” Dick teases, “c’mon, tell Nightwing what you need.”

“…cum,” you whine pathetically, “wan’ be filled up..” your tummy tightens again when his thumb massages your clit, smooth latex material of his glove making you flinch in pleasure. his fingers dig into your soft thighs as his pace quickens and you sigh, all dreamy and drawn out and debauched. Dick groans when slick gushes out your cunt and around his cock, and his free hand kneads your bouncing tits together before he can even think rationally of it.

“dirty girl,” Dick comments from deep within his throat, “fucking you nice and full isn’t enough? tell me you need it, my pretty slut.” your body shivers and you follow through with no thought. who are you to deny your protector?

“I need it, baby,” you beg, “need you to cum so bad.” your nimble hands wrap around his wrist and you keen at him, pouting and whimpering like you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without him. “please, Nightwing? ‘been a good girl, just for you.”

“fuckin’ hell,” Dick groans, “take it then, pretty baby.”

[anhelare]

Even better: they don’t exist or don’t know you exist!!

Having a crush on someone is nice until you start losing your mind.

[fear-is-truth]

“you’re such an idiot,” you mumble as your fingers tilt his chin to get a better look. dick shrugs, wincing.

“he asked a dumb question. i responded.”

“with your fists.”

“with one fist. the other was busy holding your drink.”

you stare at your boyfriend, who’s leaning against the counter with an air of cockiness despite his current state. there’s a purple bloom crawling up his cheekbone, and you’re not sure if it looks worse under the kitchen light or because he’s still smiling. but it doesn’t make him less attractive.

he hisses softly when he feels the ice pack on his jaw. your hand softens, adjusting the pressure with more care. “the douchebag deserved it,” he grits out, the sound slipping out between his teeth. “the way he was talking about you—i wasn’t gonna just stand there.”

“you didn’t have to do that–”

“yeah, i did. besides, the guy didn’t even land it clean,” dick adds, somewhat smugly, “caught me on the way down.”

“so humble.”

“i aim to please.” the way his hands squeeze your sides makes it sound a little less innocent. you roll your eyes, but you’re also smiling as you press a kiss the corner of his mouth, carefully avoiding the worst of the bruise. a pleased little hum rumbles deep in his throat, but he doesn’t let you pull back far.

“that’s all?” dick pouts in mock hurt, “for getting decked in the-” he doesn’t get to finish, as he’s too busy kissing you back.

[dark-l-angel]

Oh! Dick and Jason with reader trying to snuggle them!: i hope u feel better!

Here you go luv ❤️

Dick Grayson: He’s been pacing the living room for twenty minutes, ranting about a blown mission, his suit's torn shoulder, and something about Tim using his favorite mug again.

You sit on the couch like a sleepy cat, watching him with half-lidded eyes. "You done being dramatic, princess?" you tease, opening your arms.

Dick stops. Eyes narrow. "I’m venting, thank you very much.."

But the second you hold your arms out wider and give that little pout? He caves like a house of cards in a hurricane. His entire body just melts as he flops on top of you like a weighted blanket with unresolved trauma.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him. "There we go. Much better than pacing like Batman after someone scratches the Batmobile."

He grumbles into your neck, "You’re lucky you’re cute…"

Jason Todd: Now he is the definition of "do not approach" right now. Arms crossed. Back stiff. Brooding like he’s auditioning for the role of "Tall, Dark, and Will Absolutely Kill for You."

But you? You got no fear. You shuffle up behind him on the couch and just.. snuggle mode: activated. Arms around his waist. Cheek on his back. You hum softly.

"Snuggle first, murder later" you mumble.

Jason freezes like you just slapped a sticker on him that says Soft Boy in sparkly pink letters.

"…You serious right now?" he growls, voice low.

"Deadly" You squeeze tighter. "I read somewhere physical touch lowers stress levels. Come on. Be a good little baby boy and enjoy it ❤️."

He snorts. Then, slowly, carefully, he grabs your hand where it rests on his stomach and holds it. Quiet. Safe. And yeah, he might still look grumpy.. but now he’s grumpy with a little blush creeping up his neck.

"Fine" he mutters. "But I’m not purring."

Spoiler: He is totally purring.

[rainydaygotham]

Imagine “borrowing” the left glove of your man’s super suit for a bit while he’s napping and stitching a small band of embroidery thread around the ring finger. The thread is colored only slightly darker than the original color of the fabric. It was so inconspicuous that no one who wasn’t looking for it would notice. In fact, it takes your vigilante fiancé about a week to find it himself.

He has to do a little double take, momentarily forgetting what he was doing in favor of inspecting his hand. It’s not an accidental loose thread or anything, it’s an intentional alteration to his uniform, meant to be there. And it’s very clearly supposed to be a wedding ring, so he knows exactly how it got there. He just doesn’t know when. Oh, hopefully he hasn’t been oblivious to your handiwork for long. The thought of you thinking he knew about it and just didn’t care was agonizing. He cares, baby! He cares so much you wouldn’t believe.

It makes him giddy. You’ve marked him. What an adorable thing to do.

He was planning to get the ring tattooed onto his finger already, so he wouldn’t lose the real one out in his dangerous life of fighting crime. But even that would be under his gloves, invisible to anyone on the streets of the city. This, however, announced it loud and clear: sorry, but this vigilante is taken.

When he makes it back from the mission that night, he finds you lounging in your shared bedroom. You’re too engrossed in whatever you’re doing on your laptop to notice him creeping in yet, so he gets a moment to just admire you. To his delight, he recognizes the fabric that clings to your body as one of his shirts.

You finally realize he’s there, lookin’ like the cat who got the cream,

“Hey Babe, was it a good night?”

“You want to marry me~” he croons.

“We are literally engaged,” you shake your head in fake-exasperation.

“I found your little gift,” he gives you the clue to why he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“Oh,” your smile gets bigger, “that.. I take it you like it?”

He takes your head in his hands, thumbs gently brushing the tops of your cheeks, “it’s perfect,”

He presses a cute little kiss onto your nose. He laughs as you open your eyes and whine about having expected a real kiss. Well, he’ll just have to give you one of those too, then… or maybe a few…

[iydiamartinx]

BRIEF ENCOUNTERS

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 1.3k synopsis: Gotham’s three hottest celebrities are thrown into a charity photoshoot they didn’t ask for, in nothing but their underwear—and it turns out the camera isn’t the only thing ready to snap. a/n: I had so much fun writing this, I might make a Bruce version. warnings: the boys being too hot to handle.

Gotham’s latest charity campaign was ridiculous. You weren’t sure what was worse: the bright lights heating your skin, the silk robe barely clinging to your body, or the fact that they were here.

Jason Todd and Dick Grayson.

Tied for Gotham’s hottest male celebrity, as if the universe hadn’t already cursed you enough. And you? Crowned Gotham’s hottest woman in People’s Choice. You should’ve felt flattered.

Instead, you were sandwiched into a publicity stunt from hell.

“Who even votes for these things?” you muttered, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at the photoshoot set—minimalist bed, white sheets, a soft faux sunrise glow cast by a massive lighting rig.

Jason leaned against a metal rack, arms folded, a towel slung low on his hips like this was just another Tuesday. “Gotham’s elite, the bored, the horny. Take your pick.”

“And here I thought we were being celebrated for our philanthropic work,” Dick chimed in smoothly as he walked past, already shirtless and smug, adjusting the waistband of his black boxer briefs with all the subtlety of a peacock in mating season. “But no, please. Tell us again how this is beneath you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “It is beneath me. I’m the CEO of my own company. I’ve lectured at Oxford. I don’t pose in my underwear for strangers with cameras.”

“Yet here you are,” Jason said, flashing a grin as he pulled off his towel, revealing briefs identical to Dick’s—only in red. “Guess we all make sacrifices.”

Your eyes narrowed, though truth be told, you were trying real hard not to let your gaze wander. To either of them. They had the bodies of Greek gods, and the worst part? They knew it. Worse still? You knew it too.

And they knew that you knew.

Jason caught the flick of your gaze and raised a brow. “See something you like?”

You scoffed. “Just calculating how many spray tans died to make that happen.”

“Natural glow, sweetheart.”

“Artificial charm,” you shot back, You turned your back to them, jaw set. Professionalism. Focus. Indifference. All things you were pretending to have.

Except when Dick adjusted his waistband again and Jason’s arm flexed just a little too deliberately—you nearly bit your tongue off trying not to react.

“I give it ten minutes before someone threatens violence,” Dick added, smirking between the two of you.

“Too late,” you muttered, striding toward the set. “I’ve been threatening violence since I saw your names on the call sheet.”

As you walked toward the set, you dropped your robe with a practiced sort of defiance. Your black lingerie was sleek, minimal, and handpicked by someone who clearly wanted Gotham to combust. Both men went quiet. You smirked. 

“What? Cat got your—oh wait, no. Just your remaining brain cells.”

Jason let out a low whistle, his gaze raking over you with absolutely no shame. “Your stylist really went for the full femme fatale fantasy, huh?”

“Better than the himbo-off you two have going on.”

Dick made a soft choking sound. “Himbo—? Excuse me. I am a sophisticated, multi-faceted man.”

“Who poses in tight briefs for the Children of Gotham Foundation calendar,” you shot back. “Truly noble work.”

He grinned—shameless, unbothered—but you didn’t miss it. The way his gaze flicked lower, lingered, then snapped back up like he hadn’t just imagined something entirely uncharitable. He was only slightly subtler than Jason, and that was saying something.

The photographer, some buzzed-out creative from Metropolis with too much enthusiasm and not enough fear, clapped his hands. “Alright, lovers—get cozy! I want tension, heat, passion! Make the people wonder what happens when the lights go off.”

“Oh, they’ll wonder,” Jason murmured. “They’ll also wonder how I survived being kicked in the ribs.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled into the bed—Jason on your right, Dick on your left, both shirtless, smug, and entirely too close. The mattress dipped beneath your weight. The bed was warm, the lights were blinding, and the proximity was maddening.

“Closer,” the photographer insisted.

Jason leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Try not to melt.”

“Try not to pass out from your own cologne,” you whispered back, ignoring the slight hitch in your breath.

“Touch each other more,” the photographer urged. “Intimate, not stiff.”

“Stiff’s the wrong word,” Jason murmured under his breath.

You elbowed him sharply. “Try finishing that sentence and see what happens.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, but his hand slid behind your back, fingertips brushing skin like it was nothing.

Dick leaned in closer, lazy arm draping behind your shoulders. He smelled like clean skin and expensive cologne, and his voice was far too close when he said, “Is it bad I’m actually enjoying this?”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “If your hand moves even an inch lower, I’m breaking your wrist.”

“Duly noted,” he murmured, and you noticed he didn’t move. 

Jason, meanwhile, had his other hand settled lazily against your thigh. “Tell me again how you hate being around us. You’re practically glowing.”

“It’s the highlighter,” you said sweetly. “Not your proximity.”

Click. Flash. Shutter.

The photographer cheered. “Perfect. Let’s try the lap shot next. Y/N on Jason’s lap, Dick behind her.”

You blinked. “This is starting to feel suspiciously like a setup.”

Jason patted his thigh. “Come on, princess. I don’t bite. Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You shot him a flat look but climbed into place with a huff, settling across his lap. His hands found your hips instantly—confident, steady, like he’d done it a hundred times—and you hated how solid it felt. How easy. How natural.

You refused to acknowledge the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Dick moved in behind you, positioning himself with an infuriating kind of ease. His breath brushed your neck, and you felt it all the way down your spine.

“You smell good,” he said quietly, right by your ear.

“Get closer and I’ll change that.” You threaten.

Another shutter flash.

Jason’s voice was low by your ear. “You know, for someone who claims to hate us, you’re sitting awfully pretty between our legs.”

You turned your head just enough to smile at the camera. “Just fantasizing about strangling you with this overpriced bra.”

Dick chuckled softly behind you. “Careful. That’s starting to sound like flirting.”

“It’s not,” you lied—too quickly, too easily.

But the shoot kept going.

The poses got bolder—more contact, more heat, more places to put your hands where they shouldn’t feel that good. Jason’s palm resting just under your ribs. Dick’s fingers lightly grazing your collarbone. Their bodies bracketed against yours like they belonged there.

The lines between staged and real blurred with every click of the shutter. Flash after flash. Touch after touch. And somewhere in the middle of it all, it stopped feeling like acting.

When the final shot was taken and the camera was lowered, you stood too fast—heart hammering, skin flushed, throat dry.

You cleared it. “We done here?”

The photographer, looking a little dazed himself, gave a nod.

You didn’t wait. You turned to go, grabbing your robe—only to feel fingers close gently around your wrist. Not tight. Just enough to stop you.

Jason.

You glanced back, expression guarded. “What?”

“You going to admit it?”

Your brow arched. “Admit what?”

“That you didn’t hate all of that.”

You hesitated. Just a beat. Then your gaze flicked to Dick—still shirtless, arms folded, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

You turned back to Jason, let your lips curl slowly into a smirk. “No,” you said. “But I’m looking forward to the rematch next year.”

You slipped out of his hold and walked off, robe slung over one shoulder, leaving them in your wake.

Neither of them moved for a long moment.

Jason finally exhaled. “She’s going to be the death of us.”

Dick grinned, eyes still on the spot where you’d been. “What a way to go. At least we’ll die hot.”

[elvinapandra]

POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT

Please...life is lot more than fucking🙏🏻

[cybergoth1]

﹟— ❛❛cause when you know you know. part 1.

☆﹟— paring: fem!reader x dick grayson.

☆﹟— summary: you've always had dick grayson's heart in your hands, since you were just sixteen.

☆﹟— warnings/tags: dick grayson x fem!reader. reader is an awkward dork. fluffy. dick is yearning. spiderwoman!reader. best friends to lovers (?). these two mfs are the same person in different fonts. reader is a mix of tom holland’s spiderman and the comics. rip uncle ben. the amazing divider was made by @bernardsbendystraws, thank you!. some spiderman: homecoming lore.

WAYNE GALAS WERE ALWAYS THE SAME — stiff, over decorated affairs where assholes shook hands and smiled fake smiles over champagne. At sixteen, Dick Grayson knew the routine like the back of his hand. He also knew how to blend into the background when he wasn’t in the mood to charm the crowds.

It was from that vantage point, leaning casually against a marble pillar, that he first noticed you.

You stood a few steps behind Tony Stark, looking wildly out of place among Gotham’s elite. Wrapped in a simple blue dress that couldn’t quite decide if it wanted to be fancy or modest, you shifted your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, clutching a small purse like it might save you from drowning in a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns.

Dick’s lips quirked into a small smile. Adorable.

Tony Stark, of course, was in full showman mode, gesturing animatedly as he spoke with Bruce Wayne. The two billionaires were discussing the latest partnership between Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises — a massive clean energy project meant to transform both Gotham and New York. The media was already drooling over it.

"…game-changer for the East Coast, Bruce," Tony was saying, his voice easily cutting over the soft hum of the orchestra. "Your tech, my tech — it’s like peanut butter and genius. Together, unstoppable."

Bruce nodded, ever the composed businessman. "It sounds promising. If we can get the logistics right."

"And we will," Tony said with his usual effortless confidence. Then, spotting Dick nearby — or maybe just looking for an excuse to brag — he turned slightly and gestured toward you.

"And speaking of genius," he said, "I’d like you to meet my brilliant intern. Absolute prodigy. I’m basically babysitting her before someone smarter steals her."

You blinked, startled by the sudden attention, and gave Bruce a stiff little wave, your fingers curling awkwardly halfway through. Dick had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Bruce, gentleman as ever, extended his hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

You hurried forward, shaking his hand a little too quickly. "Um — thank you, Mr. Wayne. It’s, uh, an honor to be here."

Tony clapped a hand on your shoulder, nearly knocking you off balance. "Kid’s working on tech that’ll make arc reactors look like antique junk. Don’t let the nerves fool you — she’s the real deal."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so? I’d love to hear more about your work sometime."

You flushed bright red, mumbling something about polymer synthesis and energy conductivity — something brilliant that Dick couldn’t entirely follow, but he caught enough to be impressed. And amused. You were so obviously genuine — completely different from the polished, self-important guests around you.

Bruce must’ve picked up on your nerves too. With a small, reassuring smile, he glanced to the side.

"Allow me to introduce my son," he said, motioning to Dick. "Dick Grayson."

At the mention of his name, Dick pushed off the pillar and approached with an easy, charming smile — the kind that made Gotham’s elite swoon. But the second your eyes met, you visibly froze like you weren’t sure whether to shake his hand, run away, or throw up.

"H-hi," you said, voice quick, bright — and unmistakably thick with a Queens accent. "It’s, uh, real nice to meetcha."

Dick grinned wider, immediately charmed. "Pleasure’s mine," he said, reaching out.

You hesitated for a beat, then took his hand. Your grip was surprisingly firm, even if your face was screaming pure panic.

Tony almost chuckled. "She’s from Queens," he explained. "You know — where people actually say what they mean and don’t take an hour to do it."

You gave an embarrassed little shrug. You looked like you want to throw up.

That earned a real laugh from Dick, warm and easy. You smiled too — a real smile this time, the kind that crinkled your eyes and hit him somewhere he hadn’t expected.

Bruce’s phone buzzed discreetly in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, then gave a small, apologetic nod. "If you’ll excuse me," he said. "Duty calls."

He slipped away, leaving you, Tony, and Dick standing awkwardly together by the marble column.

Tony, never missing a beat, gave Dick a mock-serious look. "Why don’t you two go mingle? God knows she needs more friends."

You groaned under your breath. "Oh my god, Mr. Stark, please don’t."

Dick just laughed again — and somehow, standing there, the evening suddenly seemed a whole lot more interesting. He fell easily into step beside you as Tony wandered off to schmooze with some politicians. You walked stiffly at first, hyperaware of every move you made in the ridiculously fancy heels Stark had bullied you into wearing.

"So," Dick said, shooting you a grin as he offered you a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray, "Queens, huh? That explains the accent."

You accepted the drink with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Born and raised. It’s pretty different from all this… you know, money and marble columns."

Dick laughed. "Trust me, you’re not missing much. All it means is you get invited to boring parties like this one."

You laughed too — a real, snorting laugh that made a couple of nearby socialites glance over disapprovingly. You barely noticed.

"So, what’s it like working for Iron man?" Dick asked, tilting his head in that way that made his hair fall a little into his eyes. He probably practiced looking that effortlessly cool in the mirror.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. "Kinda like babysitting a genius toddler with unlimited money and no fear of death."

Dick barked a short laugh. "Sounds about right."

You hesitated, then added, "But seriously? He’s been good to me. Not a lotta people would take a chance on some random kid from Queens."

Dick raised an eyebrow, interested. "Random? C’mon, Stark made it sound like you were about to solve the energy crisis or something."

You snorted again, feeling a little more at ease. "I mean, maybe. Eventually. If I don’t blow up a lab first."

He grinned at that, the easy kind of grin that made you feel like you could tell him anything. So, without really thinking, you shrugged and said, "Plus, I kinda get it. I grew up pretty rough, y’know? Not a lotta money. Lost my folks when I was little."

You said it so casually — like you were talking about the weather — that it took a second for Dick to process.

His smile softened, the cocky edge fading just a little. "Yeah?" he said, voice a little lower now, a little more real. "Me too."

You blinked, surprised. "Wait, really?"

He nodded, tapping two fingers against his chest lightly. "Orphan club. Lifetime membership."

You gave him a crooked smile. "Guess that makes us, like, trauma buddies or something."

Dick chuckled, but there was a warmth in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before. "Guess so. But hey," he added, nudging your shoulder lightly, "at least you’re smart enough to build your way outta Queens."

You shrugged again, feeling your face heat. "Yeah, well. You’re the one who looks like he belongs in a magazine."

Dick gave you a mock-offended gasp. "Are you saying I’m just a pretty face?"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. "I’m just sayin’, you definitely got the rich kid smile down."

He laughed, full and bright, and for a second it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the whole stupid, glittering ballroom.

SIX MONTHS PASSED WITHOUT you or him even noticing. Long-distance friendships were supposed to fade, or at least get awkward. Yours didn’t. Despite being hundreds of miles apart — you in New York, Dick in Gotham — you and him texted, called, and memed at each other like your lives depended on it. Some nights you stayed up until 3 AM talking about everything and nothing at the same time. School drama. Terrible cafeteria food. The best ways to take down a guy twice your size when you were stuck in a tight suit.

It didn’t take long before the truth slipped out.

You were Spiderwoman. He was Robin.

The discovery was a complete accident — a FaceTime call cut short when you had to swing off mid-conversation to stop a robbery, your phone falling out of your pocket mid-swing, the screen still open as Dick watched wide-eyed.

You expected him to freak out.

Instead, he just texted:

dude... that's so sick. also ur form was trash lol. we’re training next time ur in gotham.

And just like that, your world got a little bigger — and a lot better. When Homecoming season rolled around, you weren’t even planning on going. Crowded dances weren’t really your thing. But then Tony Stark, with his usual flair for the dramatic, said something like, “Kid, you gotta have at least one normal high school experience before you get arrested by the feds or something,” and signed you up himself.

The only problem?

You didn’t have a date.

Which is why, two weeks later, you stood frozen on the sidewalk outside Midtown Tech, wearing a dress that you had panic-ordered online, while Dick freaking Grayson leaned casually against a rented black car looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Sleek suit. Easy smile. Blue eyes that sparkled when they landed on you.

You gawked. He whistled low under his breath.

"You clean up nice, Queens," he said, offering you his arm.

You shoved his shoulder lightly, face burning. "You’re literally Bruce Wayne’s kid. You clean up by existing."

Still, you took his arm.

Inside the gym — decorated with cheap streamers and a truly tragic DJ — heads turned immediately. Whispers broke out like wildfire.

"Wait… is that Bruce Wayne’s son?"

"He’s so hot in person. I just saw an article about The Flying Graysons-"

"Eww, isn’t that weird ass chick from the Decathlon Team?"

Enhanced earring. Sometimes you hate that. You spotted Ned across the room near the snack table, eyes wide as saucers. He threw you the most aggressive thumbs-up you had ever seen.

You nearly burst out laughing.

Dick, of course, noticed everything — the stares, the whispers — and just tightened his hold on your arm, leaning down to murmur in your ear: "They’re just jealous they didn’t think of asking you first."

You rolled your eyes, grinning. "Shut up, Gotham."

"You love me," he teased, winking.

You tried to play it cool.

Tried to act like your heart wasn’t punching itself in the face.

Instead, you just said, "Whatever, rich boy. Let’s dance before I regret this."

And somehow, with Dick’s hand wrapped around yours and the gym lights flickering overhead, you realized you were having the best night of your life — cheap decorations, judgmental classmates, bad punch and all. No crimes, no tight suits, just the arms of your best friend around you.

SOME YEARS LATER…

NEW YORK CITY SMELLED like hot dog stands, wet pavement, and cheap coffee. It was comforting, in a weird way — grounding, like an old song you never forgot the words to. It smelled like home.

You had just finished your doctorate at Empire State University — biophysics, the degree that had nearly broken you with sleepless nights and endless labs. Four years of undergrad, another six buried under papers and research grants, all while swinging through the city rooftops under a different name.

You were proud, sure. But pride didn’t pay rent, which meant you were still picking up gigs at the Daily Bugle, still hustling freelance science writing jobs, still showing up at FEAST with boxes of canned goods, just trying to help where you could.

You huffed, adjusting the box in your arms as you kicked open the back door. Aunt May had been working at FEAST full-time now ever since she retired, and somehow, you always found yourself drawn back here too. Helping people — it was kind of your thing. Always had been.

What you didn’t expect was to walk into the kitchen and see him —

Leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place, grinning like he hadn’t just crossed two state lines without so much as a warning.

"Hey, trouble."

You blinked, nearly dropping the box.

"Dick?!"

He flashed that damn movie-star smile at you — the one that should’ve come with a warning label. "Miss me?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" you cried, laughing as you dropped the box on the table and practically launched yourself at him.

Dick caught you without hesitation, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, easy hug. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it until right now. Twelve years. Twelve years of growing up side-by-side, saving cities, teasing each other over coms, late-night phone calls just to vent about patrol. And yet somehow, seeing him in person after a few months apart hit you harder than you expected.

You pulled back, punching his arm lightly. "You idiot! You’re supposed to call before you show up in my city."

"What, and ruin the surprise?" he teased, ruffling your hair — which earned him a murderous glare from you. "Besides, I figured Aunt May could use some extra hands around here."

May appeared in the doorway at that exact moment, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lit up when she saw Dick. "Richard, honey! It’s so good to see you!"

"Richard," you snickered under your breath, watching Dick grimace in horror as May pulled him into a hug.

"She’s the only one allowed to call me that," he grumbled as he shot you a look over May’s shoulder.

You grinned. God, you’d missed him.

There was a way Dick fit into your life that no one else could replicate — like he was the missing piece to a puzzle you hadn’t even realized was incomplete. Maybe it was the history.

Maybe it was the fact that you understood each other in ways that no one else ever could — the grief, the pressure, the guilt that came from trying to save people and knowing it would never be enough.

Maybe it was just him.

Because somewhere along the line, Dick Grayson had gone from Gotham’s golden boy to Nightwing — the heart of Blüdhaven, the hero everyone loved. He wasn’t just a sidekick anymore. He was the blueprint.

Kids in Blüdhaven wore Nightwing shirts and told stories about how he’d saved their dad or helped their aunt or dropped off Christmas gifts at the shelters. He was the hero people wanted to be — not just because he was good with his fists, but because he never stopped believing the world could be better.

You were proud of him in a way you couldn’t even put into words.

And looking at him now — a little older, a little more worn around the edges, but still him — you realized how much he still made you feel like you weren’t alone in any of it. He was your best friend and your family.

You saw May kissing his left cheek before going back to the main room, it was time to serve lunch.

"So," he began, leaning against the counter with that casual drawl he used when he was trying way too hard to sound chill, "how’s your thing with MJ going?"

His tone was careful — soft — like he knew exactly how much of a train wreck your love life had been lately. How you always ended up back at square one: alone.

You shrugged, shooting him a half-hearted smile.

"Eh. How’s your thing with Babs going?"

You tossed the question back at him without missing a beat, raising your brows pointedly.

Dick mirrored your shrug, lips twitching.

"Eh."

There was a brief pause — the kind only two people who knew each other too well could slip into without it feeling awkward — and then you smirked.

"Well, there’s your problem. You’re into gingers."

He snorted. "You’re into gingers."

You pointed at him like you just cracked the code of the universe.

"Exactly. That’s why we both have commitment issues. Everyone knows gingers are secretly evil."

Dick barked a laugh, shaking his head.

"Evil and dangerously attractive. It’s a lose-lose."

"Honestly," you sighed dramatically, "it’s not our fault we keep getting attached to soulless, beautiful monsters."

He grinned wide, that stupidly charming Nightwing grin.

"Soulless monsters — sounds like half the people we fight too."

"At least fighting bad guys doesn’t leave me crying into a tub of ice cream at two a.m."

Dick’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I guess you forgot your little friend Felicia Hardy in this sentence."

You gasped, smacking his arm — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point.

"That was one time and she tricked me!"

"Uh-huh," Dick said, smirking as he rubbed his arm dramatically. "And then she ghosted you and stole your watch. And your wallet".

You groaned.

"I told you that in confidence, you traitor."

He grinned even wider, clearly enjoying himself.

"You’re lucky I’m your best friend and not, you know, selling these stories to the tabloids."

You gave him a half-hearted glare before letting out a snort.

"Yeah, because Nightwing Reveals Spiderwoman Got Played by Cat Thief would really earn you some credibility."

Dick shrugged, unbothered. "Might finally knock me off GQ’s ‘Sexiest Heroes Alive’ list. Honestly, it’s getting exhausting."

You laughed, the sound bursting out of you before you could stop it. God, you missed this. The easy rhythm of you and Dick — how he could drag you out of any dark place with just a few dumb jokes and a mischievous glint in his eye.

"But come on now, sexiest hero alive," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Why are you truly in New York?"

Your face ached from how much you’d been smiling. It was almost enough to make you forget the three broken ribs healing under your shirt and the nasty wound stitched up on your left thigh. Almost.

Dick just shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile.

"Nothing at all," he said lightly. "Just missed you."

You squinted at him, unconvinced.

"Missed me enough to leave your city to crumble without Nightwing?"

"Don’t be dramatic," he said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Tim’s covering me this weekend. Blüdhaven’s in good hands."

You studied him again — really studied him — noticing how his bright blue eyes suddenly dipped away from yours, shyness creeping into his expression. Dick sighed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, like he was bracing himself.

"It’s May fourth," he said quietly.

You froze for a beat. Of course.

You didn’t need him to say anything else. You knew exactly what that date meant.

Uncle Ben’s death anniversary.

You were so burried into your Spiderwoman's stuff last night that you forgot all about Ben, you didn't even noticed how sad May was this morning. A lump formed in your throat. The pain was still there, buried deep. It always was. Even with all the miles between you and that night, the guilt, the regret — it never quite left. You thought you had it under control, thought you had it buried in the same corner where you stashed all your unresolved issues. But not today. Not with Dick here, looking at you like that.

You were about to say something, anything, to push the conversation somewhere else. But Dick stepped closer, the usual teasing smirk gone. His gaze softened, his voice quiet, steady.

"You still blame yourself, don’t you?"

The question hit harder than you’d expected, like he’d plucked the thought right from your mind. You met his eyes for the first time since he’d dropped that bomb. The guilt, all of it, was there — clear and raw. You didn’t need to say a word.

He sighed, stepping closer, until his body was just a breath away from yours. His hand brushed against your arm, the touch warm, gentle.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "You can’t save everyone. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that."

You almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded coming from him. Dick Grayson — Nightwing, a hero, a Titan — was the one who saved people, who did the impossible. He was the one who made sure no one fell through the cracks. He was everybody's safety net.

"I’m not like you," you whispered. The words sounded bitter in your mouth. "I’m not like him. I could’ve done more, should’ve done more. I—"

"Stop," Dick interrupted, his voice firm but caring. "You did everything you could. But you can’t do it all, especially not alone."

You looked up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours, soft with understanding. There was no judgment in his gaze — only the kind of acceptance that made your chest tighten. He’d seen your worst moments. And somehow, even in those, he still cared.

He was always there, wasn’t he? Even when it felt like the whole world was crashing down around you, he was the constant you could rely on. He didn’t need to say a word — he just was.

"I’m sorry," you muttered, shaking your head. "I should’ve been better, Dick. He deserved better. He would be alive—"

Dick’s hand moved to your shoulder, his grip solid, like he was holding you together in a way no one else could.

"You don’t have to carry that on your own," he said quietly. "And you don’t have to keep punishing yourself, either. Ben wouldn’t want that."

You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. But the dam was breaking. Slowly, painfully, the tears you didn’t realize were there started to well up. And Dick — always, always there — pulled you into his arms without hesitation.

"Hey," he whispered into your hair, his voice soothing, "You’re not alone. I’m here, alright? And so is May. We’re all here."

You clung to him for a second longer than you probably should’ve, your hands gripping the back of his shirt like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead into his shoulder, trying to swallow the emotion threatening to spill over.

Eventually, you pulled back, just a little, blinking away the tears. Your chest felt lighter, like the weight of the years had shifted just a little.

"Thanks," you said, voice thick. "I really needed that."

Dick’s thumb brushed carefully along your jaw, grounding you. You stared up at him, the breath catching in your chest, and for a long moment, he just looked at you — like he was memorizing you, seeing every crack, every bruise, and not turning away.

Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft, steady kiss to your forehead. Just like many others he gave you in these past twelve years. He lingered there, letting the touch say all the things neither of you could voice out loud.

When he finally pulled back, he dropped another kiss, featherlight, to the tip of your nose — the smallest, softest thing — and it broke something inside you in the best way. It wasn’t romantic, not in the big, sweeping way movies liked to show. It was better. It was pure, steady, real. The kind of love that had nothing to prove and nowhere to go. It just was.

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing him in — the faint smell of his cologne, the leather of his jacket, the clean sweat of someone who lived moving, fighting, surviving. When you opened your eyes again, he was still there, hands steady, smile small and genuine.

"You’re such an ugly crier, Webs," Dick said, voice full of teasing warmth as he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. "Is that snot? Seriously?"

You let out a wet, broken laugh. "Fuck off — my uncle died, you asshole."

"I know, I know," he said, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth even as his eyes stayed soft, careful. He cupped your face between his hands like you were something fragile and precious, his thumbs brushing away the tears and — yeah, maybe a little snot too. "You’re allowed to cry. Even if you do it… extremely unattractively."

You hiccupped a miserable sound and buried your face in his shoulder. Dick just laughed under his breath and tucked you closer, like he could shield you from the whole damn world if you let him.

"You’re the worst," you muttered thickly into his neck.

For a minute, you just breathed together. No words. No expectations. Then you heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps and Aunt May’s voice coming from the kitchen doorway.

"Well, isn’t this the cutest thing I’ve seen all week."

You jerked upright, immediately wiping your face. Dick just threw an arm lazily around your shoulders, pulling you into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, May," he said brightly, like you weren’t two seconds away from crumbling.

Aunt May just smiled knowingly, walking over to kiss your temple and then ruffle Dick’s hair, making him squawk in protest. "Always good to see you, Richard. But next time, you know, call first".

"Yes, ma’am," he grumbled, fixing his hair like some offended cat.

"Come on, you two," she said, already turning back toward the kitchen. "There’s leftovers from dinner. You can eat and then help me serving lunch. We have new people here needing help and Miles is really anxious about meeting your friend".

Ah, Miles. He's a great kid and hero. Dick's probably gonna like him. Dick squeezed your shoulder gently. "Race you to the table, ugly crier."

You elbowed him hard in the ribs, but you were laughing. Really laughing. And just like that, the world didn’t feel as heavy and horrible.

Later that day, standing in front of Uncle Ben’s grave, the city felt quieter than usual. Maybe it was just the way your heart was beating — slow, heavy, a little cracked around the edges. You stared at the headstone until the words blurred, the lump in your throat too thick to swallow.

Without a word, Dick stepped closer and pulled you against his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His fingers found yours easily, lacing them together like they belonged there, like they always had. He squeezed your hand — firm, steady — and then, without any hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

It was so soft it made your eyes sting all over again.

You leaned into him, letting his strength anchor you, feeling his heartbeat steady against your side. The sun dipped lower, the air turning cooler, but neither of you moved.

You could always hear his heartbeat, even when he wasn't in the same room as you. Nice part of having powers. You have the sound memorized in your head.

Dick didn’t rush you. He didn’t tell you it was time to go, or that you had to be strong, or that Ben was in a better place. He just stayed — solid and silent and sure — holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

He spent the whole evening there with you, never once letting go of your hand. May was in front of you, mourning in her own way. Silent.

When the city lights finally started to blink on in the distance, you turned your face into his shoulder and whispered, voice cracking, "Thank you."

Dick just squeezed your hand tighter, pressing another kiss to your hairline.

"Always, Webs," he murmured against your hair. "Always." like they belonged there, like they always had.

©cybergoth1, 2025

[mostly-imagines]

Doghouse

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka dick’s in trouble…

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied smut, discussion of sex

“Baby…”

You don’t look up from your book as you hum, “Hm?”

“You’re being mean,” he pouts from the end of the couch.

You purse your lips. “If I am, you deserve it.”

His head lulls backwards pathetically, “I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

You ignore him, scanning over the words littering the page with little thought.

He takes your lack of response as an invitation to climb up the couch a bit, just close enough that he can nibble kisses at your neck.

“Come on, I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

You roll your eyes, flipping to the next page in your book as his hands feel up your waist. He’s apologized a few times already, but you’re not ready to let it go. He’d bailed last minute on your date nights one too many times and you’ve had enough. So if no sex is the only thing that seems to get his attention, no sex it is. You’re not mad, not really, but if you can give him a taste of the neglect you’ve been feeling, well…

He continues despite the lack of acknowledgement, pestering on. “This is deprivation of nourishment.”

All in all, he’s really not putting up his best argument. He could be doing better work, much better work, and you’re certainly not going to let him off so easily.

“I don’t care.” You move the book you’re not really reading up higher, removing him from your line of sight.

Sensing the challenge, he takes the book from your hands, tossing it blindly out of reach. It lands with an unflattering thump on the hardwood. You gawk at him, but he doesn’t notice, too busy minding his own motivating force.

He pulls you further down the couch, so he’s face level with your stomach. The top of his hair tickles you as he kisses below your navel, hands holding you in place firmly by your waist.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his lips over. “Please, please let me eat you out.”

You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at the wall.

He rests his chin gently over your stomach, peering up at you with puppy dog eyes. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

This pushes him to borderline pouting, huffing, “Come on, you’re not having any fun like this either.”

Yeah, but it’s more torturous for him than it is for you.

His lips edge at the seam of your underwear, and his fingers hook under the elastic as he looks up at you expectantly.

You take a deep breath upon the sight, steeling yourself.

“No.”

He lets out an honest to God groan and drops his forehead against your stomach, whining.

You push him off of you, though he does most of the work of shifting his weight for you. You stand up from the couch and retrieve your book from its place on the floor, flipping through it to refind your page as you move for the bedroom door.

“You’re gonna leave me like this?” he calls out at you, watching you leave.

You shrug, “Take care of it yourself.”

“Myself?” He gapes, like he’s shocked at the audacity of the suggestion.

He stands up quickly, scrambling after you into your room.

He watches as you plop down onto the bed, pretending like you’ve got the concentration to keep on reading.

He pouts in the doorway, both surprised and annoyed with your commitment to making him suffer.

At this point he can take care of you better than he can take care of himself, and God knows he prefers to. So it’s bordering on inconceivable that you could have gotten so mad at him as to take away his privileges to do his very favorite thing in the world.

So he snatches your book straight from your hands again—just as you’d found the right page, too—and holds it up high.

“Dick Grayson!”

You swat at him and try to grab it back, but he’s too quick and too tall.

You kneel on the bed, reaching up in a fruitless effort before you drop your arm at your side, glaring.

He raises his chin, silently imploring you.

“Talk to me.”

You roll your eyes, “I am talking to you. I’m not sleeping with you—”

He shakes his head, “No, you’re still mad.”

“And you think this is what’s gonna help?”

He throws his head back. “You’re killing me,” he whines.

“Good.”

“What’s the plan here? Neither of us get to come ever again?”

You all but throw your head back, “I think it’s pretty fucking bold of you to assume that I rely exclusively on you to come.”

He levels you with a look.

“You do though.”

You gape at him. He says it with such self-assurance, so matter-of-fact that it’s not even a joke. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right you do, but you are nowhere near ready to give him the satisfaction.

So, you did something that you knew would piss him off.

“I—” you pause. “Fine.”

You dip your hand underneath your waistband, prepared to prove your fucking point.

“Don’t—” he bats your hand away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He gawks at you, keeping an arm between your hand and your body. “That’s my job.”

You push his arm, with minimal real effort. “It’s my body!”

“You really don’t want me to touch you? Really?”

He levels you with that look he knows you can’t rebound from, giving you no room to squirm away.

Your chin lowers out of pure habit and your mouth shuts. He takes the opportunity to drop the book on the bed, scooping up both your wrists in one go. He pulls them up above your head and holds you against the bedroom wall.

“What can I do?” he asks lowly, face only inches from yours.

You glare at him, not trying to escape his hold.

“You can fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows as to say, ‘yeah, I am too, buddy.’

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me have my girl.”

You tug your hands out of his grasp, and he lets you without complaint.

You huff, looking at him.

“You have to take me out on a date tom—a real date—tomorrow night, the whole night, flowers and everything.”

He’s nodding along with your words eagerly, terms he couldn’t be happier to agree to.

“Even if some vigilante shit comes up—”

“Of course, of course.”

“…and do what you said before,” you say, quieter.

“What did I say before?” he asks, like he truly can’t remember.

“Dick,” you warn.

He smiles, perfectly content to let you off easy.

He leans forward, kissing you deeply but with an air of sweetness.

“I’m sorry I missed our date, pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”

Your shoulders noticeably relax and you take a deep breath, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says as he kneels down on the ground. He grins up at you as he hooks your leg over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of my baby, of course I will.”

☀️ i’m worried the sun will go out soon if you don’t start reblogging fics ☀️

[minorlyatfault]

⌗ 𝗢𝟭 — HE'S A GENIUS ! ❪ 'CAUSE I LOVE A WOMAN LIKE YOU ! ❫

♯ headcanons : : the batboys with a special fbi agent!reader

♯ specifically ncavc!reader ( national center for the analysis of violent crime )

♯ with : : b. wayne , d. grayson , j. todd , t. drake , d. wayne && d. thomas

♯ suggested ( & assisted ) by @yeoniverseee && @laufeysgoddess !

♯ tags : : gn!reader( but fem!reader in mind while making this ). inaccurate with the fbi job. ooc. rushed. not proofread. fluff. fbi agent!reader. ncavc!reader. grammatical errors. reader knows their identities. not much details about the ncavc because the author has no idea how to actually do their job. criminal minds mentioned / references. established relationship. reader has trauma but not shown ( they're an special fbi agent, fbi = tough shit ). long ( again, it's not proofread ). cheesy && cringe. all are aged up ( also because to become an fbi agent, you must be of age. unless they're part of the naturals program. + the program doesn't exist in the fbi btw. it's from a book ). viana & her shit humor.

♯ m.list ⨟ dc m.list

♯ notes of viana : : 000. hi hi

001. it should be special agent only but, but! i felt like it didn't sound professional because fbi agents legit have to make it clear of what kind of ( special ) agent they are.

002. mighttt,, a make one for the supers !

003. &&& terry mcginnis 😋

004. unsub = the culprit

005. @dntaed was the first person ( aside from the two who suggested this idea ) that i hinted ab this uh work. && trust,, roy's in the works ‼️

❛ BRUCE WAYNE ❪ BATMAN ❫

✦ bruce is very overprotective of you, especially when you work late. he's used to having you surrounded by danger, but he still gets worried whenever you get yourself involved in a case that may end in violence.

✦ occasionally, you need to convince him not to call in his "backup" ( a.k.a. the entire batfamily ) when you head out for a solo field case.

✦ he admires your work but is still concerned. he'll have alfred deliver you a blanket or some coffee after a particularly difficult case, even if you're not home yet.

✦ alfred loves you. so whenever you come home late, expect not only your boyfriend, but alfred who's preparing a hot cup of coffee & a meal.

✦ bruce can be stand-offish sometimes, especially after a long day of fighting crime, but you're one of the only people who can get past his defenses & actually get him to talk.

✦ you've discovered his identity ( how could you not, working in the fbi is part of the ncavc? ) & he's not as shocked as he ought to be. nevertheless, he feels uncomfortable discussing it initially.

✦ when he's drained, he'll allow you to assist him in relaxing, even if it means sitting quietly while you read a case file. he doesn't require words. simply being near you is enough. more than enough, in fact.

✦ he doesn't show affection in public, but he'll send you a tiny smile when he thinks nobody is looking.

✦ bruce is the kind of person to leave you little notes with directions or reminders on a case you're handling, typically signed "b."

✦ he can't help but respect your mind. if there's anything that makes him relax around you, it's discussing about your jobs▰breaking down patterns, reviewing cases, & deciphering criminal minds.( criminal minds mentioned !? )

✦ occasionally, after a tough case, he'll catch you in a moment of weakness & softly let you know that he's proud of the work that you do, even though it's risky.

✦ when he's batman, he doesn't want to admit it, but he'll occasionally leave you a little token or a note in places that only you would be aware of▰such as the office desk drawer or the kitchen counter.

✦ he always asks how your day was, but only after he's finished with his batman business. he'd ask you,,, "how's your day, my love?" & really listen as you speak.

✦ he never asks you to give up doing your job▰he even encourages it, but that does not mean that he is not worried about you being in the line of fire.

✦ bruce may be rough, but when you report to him that you have solved a tough case, his face will crackle with pride for you even though he may attempt to hide it behind his glowering.

✦ when you both get stressed, you'll just sit together, no talk, just holding hands as a silent reassurance.

❛ DICK GRAYSON ❪ NIGHTWING ❫

✦ dick is a goofball & a big tease. he'll always joke with you about your serious, no-nonsense approach to work & say that you're too serious for your own good.

✦ he'll pull you into spontaneous sparring sessions to get you "let loose" from a difficult case. & although he does let you win sometimes, it's only because he enjoys seeing you get all riled up about it.

✦ despite dick having a love for joking around, he's intensely defensive of you when it comes to the risks of your job. he attempts to keep things light, yet he doesn't miss if you appear slightly too exhausted or stressed.

✦ he enjoys having you assist him on cases, even though it annoys him when you point out things he missed ( because, naturally, you're smarter than him at times ).

✦ dick has no problem showing affection in public. he’ll grab your hand or steal a quick kiss when you’re least expecting it, just to see your reaction.

✦ if you’re ever caught in a dangerous situation( like the unsub almost getting you ), dick is the first to swoop in. he may joke about it afterward, but he’s always looking out for you.

✦ he can't help himself from texting you all day long, even when you both have work to do. most of it is just random junk, like memes, jokes, or just checking in.

✦ dick enjoys learning about the cases you're handling, & you'll find him asking questions that get him way too involved in things that don't pertain to him.

✦ he'll occasionally steal your snacks or lunch throughout the day when you're in analysis, just because he knows that you forget to eat when you're concentrating.

✦ if you ever get him catching you becoming too stressed out or overwhelmed, he'll envelop you in his arms & explain that it is alright to rest. you & he both should relax sometimes.

✦ he loves to hear your observations about the criminal mind ( hehe. cm mentioned. again. ) & frequently calls you "the smartest person in the room" when you're around him.

✦ when you're out in the field, dick keeps a close watch on you, but he covers it up with a smile or a joke. he trusts you, but he can't help himself.

✦ he adores it when you become all serious & analytical, but then he's there to top it off with a joke that will make you roll your eyes.

✦ dick will spoil you with little things. like dropping by your office with coffee just because he knows you like it.

❛ JASON TODD ❪ RED HOOD ❫

✦ jason is much more serious about your well-being, & he will usually try to keep you from getting into harm's way ( even though he knows you're going to do your job no matter what ).

✦ he doesn't understand why you work in such a high-risk job, but he respects it because he can tell how much you love your job & the people you're helping.

✦ jason's affection is subtler. he might give you a kiss on the forehead when you're working, or text you something like, "don't make me come save your ass."

✦ if you're looking at a really violent case, jason doesn't like you getting too close, but he'll never tell you to give up. he just gets a little overprotective.

✦ when he's had a pretty bad night out playing red hood, jason prefers to return & simply lie alongside you, holding you without speaking a word. it's his way of receiving comfort without exposing his vulnerabilities.

✦ he is enchanted when you're in control. he'll joke with you about being the "brains" behind the operation while he's the "muscle" but secretly adores your brains & analysis. definitely finds you hot whenever you analyze a case.

✦ if a person hurts you or threatens you in any form, he's right there instantly to deal with it, & there's no dissuading him.

✦ jason is also super good at reading your mood. if you're tense, he'll pull you onto his lap & get you to discuss it, sometimes going so far as to make you watch a film just to take your mind off things.

✦ he's extremely proud of what you do, even when he doesn't say anything. he understands how difficult it is, & every now & then he'll just hold you in silence after a bad case, giving you a quiet "you did good."

✦ jason doesn't exactly try to be discreet about his love language. expect lots of trash talking, possibly some sarcastic remarks, but you can always tell he's got a spot in his heart for you.

✦ he keeps sending you silly stuff like, "will you bail me out of prison if i got arrested?" or "i'm going to blow something up. what are you doing?" just to catch your response.

✦ when you fight, it's intense, but always ends with him pulling you near & apologizing in his manner. the gruff exterior disguises how much he cares about you.

✦ jason will open up emotionally more often after a passionate fight. when he's had a bad night on patrol, he'll turn to you & show you how much he values your support.

❛ TIM DRAKE ❪ RED ROBIN ❫

✦ tim is the most intrigued about your work, questioning you incessantly & wanting to know everything there is to know about criminal analysis. you're always the first with the best theories, & he can't get enough of picking your brain.

✦ he values your knowledge a lot. it's not unusual for tim to utter the words, "you're so much smarter than me," but you'd never let him catch on.

✦ he's such a considerate person & will leave little treats for you. a cup of coffee in your favorite mug, an assistive case file, or something random he thinks you'll like.

✦ if you're working late, tim will sit in with you on the analysis, sometimes just hanging around your place to keep you company & facilitate things through for you. ( he rarely sleeps, anyway. )

✦ he has a tendency to drop by your office unexpectedly, but he's not there to flirt. he really does want to know how your day is going & whether you need anything.

✦ tim enjoys hearing about your cases, especially when you're working on something tricky. he'll geek out over it, even coming up with new theories that make you think.

✦ his gift & acts of service language is for sure. if you ever require assistance, tim will be the first to step forward to aid you without you ever having to ask.

✦ he enjoys those moments of silence with you. when you two are working together, there's always a peaceful understanding between the two of you even when you two are both immersed in your work.

✦ tim is not as sensitive as some of the others, but when he has a hard day, he will come looking for you just to sit with you & have you read or work.

✦ when you are frustrated with a case or having a bad day, tim will instantly try to make things better by coming up with solutions or by reassuring you with his silent understanding.

✦ he's the one who checks up on you all the time, even when you have your hands full. count on receiving out-of-the-blue texts such as, "how's your case going?" or "need a break?"

✦ tim's also going to be most likely to plan date nights including you geeking out together, such as a movie marathon, reading through case files, or cracking puzzles together.

✦ he certainly does have times when he'll get too engrossed in a case & forget to check in, but he always apologizes afterwards, checking that you're alright.

✦ if you ever find yourself in harm's way( ahem, ahem, unsub ), tim is the first to devise a plan of action, going over everything down to the smallest detail to ensure you're safe.

❛ DAMIAN WAYNE ❪ ROBIN ❫

✦ damian wayne is a perfectionist & will demand that level of precision & attention from you. he has the utmost respect for your work, but if you ever slip up & mess up something minor in any case, he will call you out on it. not to be rude, but because he knows you can do it better.

✦ his protective persona is a little too much. he's the sort of man who will hover if you're in harm's way & will insist that you don't interact unless he's with you. he doesn't believe anyone can protect you the way he can.

✦ he's also possessive about you, too, particularly when you're on duty with the other colleagues. if you linger with another colleague too long, even for professional purposes, look forward to having a very crabby damian at home.

✦ damian is impressed by your intellect, though he'd never say so in public. he may casually quiz you on criminal profiling ( wooo, cm mentioned. you know i had to. ) or the cases you're handling, attempting to subtly display how impressed he is with your abilities.

✦ one of his love language is acts of service. if you're having trouble with a case or stressed out, he'll assist in the best way he knows: with his action. this may mean him shadowing you on a case or assisting you in gathering evidence ( though he's very particular about how things should be done. ).

✦ damian isn't too affectionate out in public, but when you're by yourself, be prepared for unexpected, passionate bursts of affection, such as being pulled into a kiss without warning or having his head in your lap at the end of the day.

✦ he attempts to keep his jealousy concealed, but if he perceives that someone is getting too close or familiar with you, he'll either keep his distance from you or confront the person in a rather "damian" fashion.

✦ when he’s upset, damian retreats into himself, but you’re one of the few people who can break through his emotional walls( you are ). he might not talk about it, but he’ll silently seek comfort from you, sitting close or offering a hand.

✦ he’s fiercely protective of your well-being. if you’re involved in a dangerous case, he’ll insist on helping you, even though you’re fully capable of handling it yourself.

✦ damian doesn't like distractions▰least of all from you. when you're both on a case, he'll get intensely focused & expect you to be the same way. but if you interrupt the quiet to joke with him or lighten the tension, he'll flash that hard-to-find smile for you.

✦ if you've been working too hard, damian will pull you away from your case to ensure you get some rest, even if that means forcing you to sleep.

✦ he doesn't get upset when you're discussing work with other individuals, but if someone tries flirting with you, you'll notice a side of damian you never knew existed. a cold, calculating one that will piss the pants off whoever overstepped.

✦ during the times that you feel stressed out, damian would quietly volunteer to spar with you. that's how he winds down & how he finds that it's also a way to bond with someone▰albeit not a suitable stress relief for you.

✦ damian will sometimes pretend not to care about your work, but he's always listening quietly, taking things in. when you come up with something, he'll be the first one to point out how brilliant you are ( in his own manner, obviously ).

✦ his idea of a date could be assisting you with an especially tricky case, or inviting you on a training session, demonstrating that he is able to mix work & "romance" in his own particular way.

✦ he doesn't just say so out loud, but he is immensely proud of you. there are little signals of affection only you can read▰such as his hand casually touching yours during a meeting or his tendency to huddle with you after a rough day.

❛ DUKE THOMAS ❪ SIGNAL ❫

✦ duke is a naturally nurturing person & will always check in on you to ensure you're alright. after long, stressful days at the ncavc, he'll stop by to visit you & ensure you're not overworking or stressing yourself out.

✦ he's a bit of a worrywart. when you're out working on a case, duke will be calling to inquire about all these things like, "are you sure you're safe?" or "do you need assistance with something?"

✦ duke admires your intelligence, but he's not beyond joking about your seriousness as a special agent. he'll attempt to lighten the atmosphere by cracking jokes or sharing random memes while you're heavily engrossed in case analysis.

✦ when you're stressed, duke's the type of guy who'll pull out all your favorite snacks & have you sit down to watch a movie or something fun to take your mind off it, even if you complain about having to work more.

✦ he's a bit of a sentimental softie with you, always showering you with affection in little but nice ways▰such as making sure your coffee is precisely the way you like it or giving you a tight hug after a tough day.

✦ duke values teamwork. he'll do his best to assist you with your cases whenever he can. although his abilities are more street-level crime fighting, he's willing to provide any assistance he can in terms of research or brainstorming.

✦ duke manages to bring lightness into a situation no matter how buried under tons of files or pressure cases you are. his inherent positive outlook is catching, & part of the reasons why you balance each other is because of that.

✦ he hates seeing you burning out, & he will nag you to get breaks. walking outside or grabbing lunch, sometimes even.

✦ duke is a big softie when it comes to you. if you're upset or just need a hug, he's there with his arms wide open, eager to hold you close & soothe you.

✦ he enjoys helping with cases. he'll gladly hear your theories & share his own insights, & when you make a breakthrough, you'll notice his beaming smile.

✦ duke will make you feel comfortable sharing with him what's on your mind. he's always willing to lend an ear & never push you away, regardless of how bad things become.

✦ if you're ever handling a very violent case, he'll intervene to assist you, particularly if it seems like you're having trouble emotionally.

✦ when times get hard, he's the first to drag you away for letting loose▰whether that's a night out on the town, a movie fest, or a stroll under the stars. he knows how to recharge your batteries.

✦ duke is so cuddly when you're together. he'll be holding your hand constantly or kissing you on the cheek, not shy about showing the world how much he loves you.

✦ if you ever second-guess yourself or your capabilities, duke is on hand to calm you down. he'll remind you of your strengths & all the great things you've achieved▰making you realize the worth of your work, the people who've helped & the victims you have avenged.

✦ he doesn't feel so serious about himself, which makes him excellent at your sometimes more serious dedication. his sense of humor & playfulness will always make you feel at ease.

✦ duke also tends to text you silly jokes or remarks during the day, just for the sake of making you smile, particularly when he knows that you're up to your neck in work.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

[blubunz]

MIDNIGHT SNACK

— stepbrother! jason todd x f! stepsister! puppy hybrid! reader x stepbrother! dick grayson

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: stepcest, oral (m! receiving), making out, porn no plot.

A/N: idk if i should do a part 2.

Dick groans, hips bucking as you eagerly take his whole cock down your throat, skilled tongue rubbing his length. He strokes your head, praises coming out of his lips so naturally it makes your tail wags.

“Good— good girl, that's it. Oh god...” He tilts his head back on the couch, eyes closing in bliss. To have his puppy sister servicing him after a long day is everything he's ever wanted. He didn't know that all he had to do was ask, and you sure are delivering it to him now.

You slobber all over his cock, drools mixing with pre cum dripping down his balls in thick globs. You sure are a messy one, but he's not complaining, you give crazy blowjobs.

“Ngh, little Jaybird taught you well, huh, sis?” Dick laughs, looking down at you. “No puppy girl can give me heads like this, you're an expert.”

You can't help but feel pride, Jason did taught you well. You sure can make any cocks throb, no one knows that all they have to do is ask.

You pick up the pace, feeling Dick's cock throbbing in your mouth. Your hands on his thighs to pull yourself up easier, nodding your head like crazy.

You look drunk on his cock, not knowing how long have you been on your knees like this. Surely Jason should be home by now, too.

Jason enters the room the moment Dick pushes your head down abruptly, almost making you gag as he cums deep down your throat, thighs shuddering by the sheer ecstasy you're giving him.

“Hi, Jaybird.” Dick grins, letting you go and you rest your head on his thigh, gulping down his loads. “I didn't know our puppy can give such good heads. Is this why you're keeping her in here? Hm?”

Jason says nothing, his helmet hold no expression as he walks closer to the both of you. Dick hold the smug smile, but he's got a lingering worry that he might have upset his brother in some way.

Jason stands behind you and roughly smacks your ass, making both you and Dick's eyes widen in surprise.

He pulls you up by your hair, then snakes down to grab your cheeks.

“Am I not good enough for you? Why is he here?” Jason asks you, head tilting a little at Dick's side.

You whimper, can't seem to find an answer, but Dick quickly does it for you.

“Chill, man. I was just visiting your place. And well, she seems lobely, and you're busy, so I figured why not have some fun with my little stepsis, hm?”

Jason stares at him silently.

“...What?” Dick asks. “Look, she's all yours, buddy. But, come on, she looks like she wants us both, yeah?”

You nod when Jason glances at you, smiling a little. “I love both of my stepbrothers.” You say, turning around as best as you could to hug Jason. “I wanna feel both of you inside me...”

His arms wrap around your hips, pulling you close gently.

“Fine.” He says, taking off the helmet. “Just this once. I'm not giving Dickhead the privilege of having you anytime he wants.”

You nod again, pressing your lips up to his as you two make out.

Dick gets off the couch and stands behind you, kissing your neck while he plays with your cunt by pulling your panties up, having you rub against it.

“One rule though, you cannot kiss her lips.” Jason says, tugging on your bottom lip, only to be responded with Dick chuckling as he gets on his knees.

“Oh, don't worry. I prefer kissing her other lips anyway.” Dick pulls your bottoms down, revealing your wet heat. He sniffs deeply, tongue sticking out to savour your taste.

Meanwhile, you're busy moaning while Jason pulls you into a lip lock, holding your head tight to his as he pours everything out into this sloppy session.

They don't even use their cocks, and yet you're getting close already, eyes rolling up and your breathing grows rapidly. But as if they can read eachother's minds, Dick and Jason stops completely, leaving you a whining mess.

You cry, pushing your ass back against Dick, while giving Jason your puppy eyes.

Jason assures you with a head pat, hands reaching down to remove his belt and unzip his pants.

“Relax, pup, we have plenty of time.”

[fromdove]

KISS LESSONS ! dick grayson x reader

"There’s a version of me that only exists when I’m with you. And I think . . . I think he’s who I was always meant to be.”

— sleepover with mr (teen) richard grayson !! gn!bsf reader (but written with a fem reader in mind), dick trying (& failing) to be nonchalant, truth or dare & he dares you to kiss him (for educational purposes...)

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

You were both halfway through a bag of popcorn when Dick challenged you to call the pizza place and do your best Batman impression.

“I am vengeance,” you rasped into the phone, making your voice deep and gravelly. “I’d like… a large pepperoni. Extra cheese. No mushrooms. I hate mushrooms.”

The guy on the other end of the line paused, clearly confused. “Okay?”

You lost it, collapsing into Dick’s side, gasping for air.

“My god,” he wheezed, “Bruce would revoke your honorary Robin privileges for that.”

“I think I nailed it,” you said, grinning up at him. “Tell me I didn’t.”

He shot you a crooked smile. “You totally didn’t.”

You nudged him with your foot. “Alright, Mr. Wayne Jr., truth or dare?”

Dick flipped onto his stomach, grinning like a cat who’d just stolen the cream. “Dare.”

You let the silence drag on for a moment, savoring the anticipation. “…I dare you to show me your Batman voice.”

His grin falters. “I can’t. I’ve sworn a sacred oath.”

“Lame.”

“Alright, fine—” He cleared his throat and, without missing a beat, dropped his voice low and growly, furrowing his brow dramatically. “‘Justice is blind!’”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, yeah, whatever that means.”

Dick smirked. “Fake fan. He’s literally said that before.” He tossed your challenge back at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Coward.”

You snorted and threw a Cheeto at him. “Oh, yeah? Fine then, dare.”

His grin returned, wicked and sharp. “Great.”

For a moment, he twirled a thread from your bedsheet around his finger, and you noticed how his movements were oddly deliberate, almost too calm. There was something a little too suspicious about the way he was watching you. Then, his tone softened, becoming almost casual. “I dare you to kiss me.”

You blinked. Slowly.

“Excuse me?”

He met your gaze and shrugged like it was no big deal. “What? We’re playing the game.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you serious?”

His voice stayed nonchalant, but you caught the faintest hint of red creeping into his ears. “Unless you’re scared.”

You snorted, trying to mask the butterflies that suddenly took flight in your stomach. “Of you? Please.”

Then his tone shifts — a little softer, a little less teasing. “You’ve kissed people before, right?”

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

He nods, like that confirms something. “I haven’t.”

“Not properly,” he adds, casually. “There was a mission once, but it was more like… spy stuff. Doesn’t count.

You stared at him. “Wait . . . you’ve never actually kissed someone?”

He shrugged casually, like it was no big deal. “What? You said you’ve kissed people. I barely have. I figure I should… y’know… learn from the best.”

Suddenly, he wasn’t just the dorky kid in a cape. He was... Dick Grayson, the guy who made your heart do odd flips just by being himself.

You shifted, sitting in front of him with your legs crossed, your arms resting casually on your knees. “You want me to teach you how to kiss?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

You smirked. “Don’t take that tone with me, Boy Wonder. You’re the one who asked me to kiss you. But fine, I accept.”

His eyes lit up—bright, eager, giddy, and a little nervous. He was a goddamn mess, a cute one, but still a mess. A mess you were willing to deal with.

You moved closer, just enough that your knees brushed against his. “Lesson one,” you murmured, voice low. “Stop overthinking.”

“That’s—” He swallowed. “Very difficult.”

“You’ll manage.”

You kissed him.

It was sweet. Hesitant. His lips were soft, unsure, like he’d never quite known how to navigate this. But he leaned in like you were something he’d been searching for and didn’t realize he could catch until now.

When you pulled back, he just stared at you, wide-eyed and breathless. “I—” He blinked a couple of times. “Okay. That was. Huh.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I think I blacked out for a second,” he muttered, voice dazed.

You snorted. “So much for the Boy Wonder.”

“I’m regaining composure!” he insisted, sitting up straighter and giving you a dramatic wave of his hand. “Give me five seconds and a glass of water.”

You kissed him again. Just to shut him up.

And this time, he kissed you back. Steady. Warm. Clumsy in the most endearing way.

You pulled back just enough to breathe. “Okay,” he said, blinking slowly like he was still trying to come back to his senses. “I’m either really good at this, or you’re really nice.”

You smiled. “Maybe both.”

He grinned back at you—goofy, warm, and flushed.

You leaned back, almost teasing. “So?”

His gaze softened, and he scratched the back of his neck, clearly caught between trying to sound casual and letting the nervous excitement slip through. “So… I’m gonna need more practice rounds.”

You giggled. “Greedy.”

“Thorough,” he corrected, as if that made all the difference. “You wouldn’t want your best friend running around Gotham being a bad kisser, right?”

“Oh, the horror.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaning in just a little closer. “Think of the city.”

you smile.

He just melts.

[kthologue]

will they wont they – dick grayson

synopsis. he had one job. but when it comes to you, dick grayson has never been good at following the rules.

contents. fluff, (implied) exes to lovers, catwoman!reader, batcat dynamic, theyre in love your honor

notes. i wanted a bruce and selina parallel except these two finally give in. this concept has been plaguing my for far too long. everyone thank blair for the idea + part 2

“And under no condition should you flirt with her,” Barbara’s voice crackles through his comms, sharp with warning. “This is a quick intel mission. You’re in and out, Nightwing.”

Dick chuckles. “Got it. Best behavior.”

Word had gotten back to the Batcave that, after Catwoman’s arrest, Catgirl was making moves to finish what her predecessor started. Even worse, there were rumors of Catwoman’s involvement in the riots of Blackgate Penitentiary. Usually, Gotham’s affairs stayed strictly in Bruce’s hands, but Dick had fought hard for this case. Maybe too hard.

“Nightwing,” Oracle’s voice falters as the group watches the hidden camera feed from his suit. “Did you… style your hair?”

Dick freezes mid-motion, his fingers still carding through his dark locks in the reflection of a nearby window.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” He clears his throat, schooling his expression. Jason’s laughter bursts through the comms like a gunshot.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Jason wheezes. “Loverboy's got it bad.”

Dick exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he continues forward. “Can’t believe you guys planted a camera on me. Have you no trust?”

“It’s not about trust, Dick,” Bruce finally speaks, his voice cool and measured. “It’s about intelligence gathering.”

Of course. Ever the pragmatist.

Dick rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the unease creeping in. “Nah. My girl would never do anything to hurt me.” His voice dips. “Nothing I wouldn’t enjoy, anyway.”

Jason groans. “Barf.”

Oracle sighs. “Loverboy, focus.”

Dick lifts his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk lingers, betraying him. “Alright, alright.”

By the time Dick reaches the coordinates he was sent, the abandoned building seemed to be empty. Devoid of any criminal activity that was suspected.

Or at least, that’s how it looks.

Nightwing lands silently on the rooftop, scanning the darkened windows. No movement. No heat signatures. Just the city humming below, a steady pulse against the quiet.

Any amateur would enter the building to start his investigation, but Dick knew you better than that.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

You’re here. Somewhere. Watching.

His lips twitch. “Y’know, most people say hello first.”

Silence. 

A shift in the shadows, a whisper of movement, too fast for anyone else to catch.

He’s airborne for half a second before his back slams against the rooftop. His breath escapes in a sharp huff, and before he can fully register what was happening, a warmth presses close, your weight against him, a knee braced against his ribs, gloved fingers skimming the hollow of his throat. Light. Barely there. A tease, not a threat.

“Thought I’d mix it up,” you murmur.

The moonlight frames you in silver, your mask casting half your face in shadow. He watches the way your lips quirk, the way your breath fans against his jaw, closer than necessary. Closer than you should be.

He should move. Counter. Flip you.

Instead, his fingers curl around your wrist, his thumb ghosting over your pulse point.

Dick blinks up at you, the city lights outlining the curve of your smirk.

“Well,” he breathes, grin unfazed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I’d say sorry, but you walked right into it.”

Your knee eases up just enough for him to shift. It’s all he needs.

With a twist, he sweeps your leg from under you, flipping them. Now you’re the one pinned, but your expression doesn’t change—if anything, your smirk deepens.

“Better,” you muse. “Almost had me there.”

“Almost?” He tuts. “You wound me.”

Then, without hesitation, you hook your leg around his waist and throw your weight into a roll. The two of you tumble, shifting control back and forth, dodging and countering, neither ever fully committing to an actual strike.

It’s a dance. One you both know by heart.

You feint left and he dodges too slow. Your fist brushes his jaw, not a real hit, just enough to make him feel it.

“You’re distracted,” you observe, eyes glinting.

He exhales, grip tightening around your wrist just enough to keep you close. “Maybe I just like having you this close.”

“Always the flatterer.”

For a moment, neither moves. Your breaths mix, city lights reflecting in your masked gaze.

Then, you blow him a kiss, fingers ghost over his lips before twisting free.

A quick, effortless slip, like smoke through his fingers. By the time he blinks, you’re already a few feet away, perched on the edge of the rooftop, ready to make your exit. 

His comm buzzes. Jason’s voice, laced with amusement: “Tell me you’re at least trying to win.”

Dick ignores him.

Instead, his eyes flick toward the shadows. "C’mon, sweetheart, you really want it to end so soon?" He calls, the playful edge to his voice betraying the pulse of something more intense. “I’m starting to have fun.”

“Yeah?” You step into the moonlight, half a step in front of him. “You’re losing, horribly.”

You paused.

“But I’ve always liked how optimistic you were, Grayson. It’s cute.”

He can’t help but smile at the sound of his last name leaving your lips with a casualness that does something to him. He’s heard it from everyone, whether it be taunts or flirty whispers, but from you, it lands differently.

“I’m losing?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his voice, but his heart pounds just a little faster. “I don’t think I feel like a loser.” In fact, he feels more alive than ever, adrenaline coursing through him, sparks erupting with every quip you exchanged. 

You let out a laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I’ve transported all of the artifacts from the Gotham Museum hours before you even got here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he stays relaxed. He’ll deal with that later. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “No?”

He steps closer. Slowly. “No,” he repeats, his voice dropping to a softer tone, low enough that it’s just for you.

You watch him, waiting.

He stops when you’re chest to chest, both of you breathing a little heavier now. The proximity is too close. Too much. And yet, neither of you move away.

“Then, what are you here for?”

For a heartbeat, the world slows, and he sees it, something soft in your eyes, hidden behind the mask. Something more than the game you’ve been playing.

“You know,” his voice softens.

But it’s fleeting. Gone before he can fully grasp it, and it hits him harder than he expects.

For a moment, he sees your own eyes underneath the black eye mask softening as they flicker between his own. But it’s gone as soon as it comes and Dick mourns it.

You break the moment first, pulling back just slightly, the warmth of your body still lingering as you glance away. “I’m not… involved with that and you know it,” you say, tone sharp but steady.

You’re not naive. He knows you’ve heard of the rumors circulating about Blackgate and Selina’s growing influence in the prison.

He catches your hand when you try to push him away, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. It’s the same dance they’ve done for years—one step forward, then the pull.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs.

“Obviously not.” Your eyes flash as you look away, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “You don’t trust me.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “You know I do, sweetheart.” His voice softens, and he steps even closer, bringing his other hand to your jaw, his fingers gently guiding your gaze back to his.

“I just needed to confirm.” His breath catches in his chest as he leans in, his lips almost brushing yours. “You know. B and his procedures.”

He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. You’re not backing away, but you’re holding yourself together with that quiet strength of yours.

“Dick,” Oracle warns him through the comm. He can feel Bruce’s silent warning echoing through his mind. He’s overstepped.

But Dick doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about the mission anymore. Not when you’re standing there, eyes locked on his, body close enough that all he can think about is what it would be like to not fight this anymore.

With a quiet resolve, he reaches for his comm, deactivating it, then rips the camera from his suit, crushing it under his foot. The sound of the camera breaking echoes through the silent night, and he watches as surprise flickers in your eyes.

“You’re insane,” you murmur, the disbelief in your voice mixing with relief.

Dick steps even closer, no words now, just the steady thrum of his pulse and the way his body wants to close the distance. “Mission completed anyway,” he mutters, his lips curving into a grin, but it’s softer now.

“As always,” you whisper, your eyes flicking to the shattered camera. There’s a quiet moment where everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge.

Then, without another word, he pulls you in, his lips crashing into yours, soft but insistent. It’s everything he’s wanted, everything you’ve been dancing around for far too long.

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his suit as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The kiss is slow, almost agonizing in its sweetness. No more games, no more hesitating. Just the two of you, finally letting go. His hand rests on the back of your neck, fingers tracing down every curve.

“That,” he says, voice husky, “was a mission well done.”

Your eyes twinkle, and you don’t pull away. “You know you’re never going to hear the end of this, right?”

“Worth it,” he grins. “Every second.”

thank you for reading! reblogs n comments are appreciated :3

[nxtaliaistyping]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OELASE PELzerPLEADR PLEWSE PLAS PLEASR MORE P LINKS WITH BATFAM😭😭😭😭😭 I ENERRIY YINFN$.,,, I MEED IT I NEED IT

Batfamily | p links part three

(Gotta be logged into Twitter for links to work)

Nsfw 18+, had lots of requests for various members of the batfamily so I’m combining them all, part one and two

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Bruce Wayne:

Says he wants you to be loud when he fucks you in a hotel to keep up his playboy image…but really he just loves to hear you

In his fancy car

He’s huge…but that’s expected

One time when Alfred took a rare day off, you wanted to cook dinner for the both of you…and Bruce loved the image of you more than he should have

When he caught you sunbathing in the garden

Dick Grayson:

Yeah he’s defo the type to play chase atlantic on his speakers while you’re both at it

He offers you a massage…

Blow him when he’s had a bad day

You’re the one who kept making comments about how he’d be ‘such a great dad’…are you surprised this is how you ended up?

When the tabloids took pictures of Bruce Wayne’s eldest buying this in a sex shop, he was trending on Twitter for days

Jason Todd:

Loves fingering you like this, so he has full access to watching your twitching hole

Loves an alt girl

He’s got big hands, and he loves to just see the size difference

This is so him, he takes pleasure in your pleasure

Has you hold your cheeks open so he can see just how big he is compared to you

Tim Drake:

sub tim sub tim sub tim

He just thinks you’re soooo pretty in a skirt!! He can’t help it!!!

Sometimes he’s in a rougher mood

This screams Tim vibes honestly

You film this, and send it to him when you want to tease him while he’s away

[alikesical]

just watched Pirates of the Caribbean with my little sister and I've got this uncontrollable urge to write a pirate!Dick Grayson fic

why Dick?

vibes, always

also, he can fit both the role of the pirate and the damsel perfectly cause he's baby girl like that

I bet he'd cry out of annoyance if he thinks the ransom money is too low

and honestly I can't really imagine anyone else as a pirate?

actually no, Jason would be an awesome pirate

like

he was part of the rich and now he wants to eat the rich

and tim I can only imagine as part of the guard for some reason? idk why, vibes again probably

maybe he's chasing someone or maybe he's looking for a childhood friend

maybe they're the same person

damian? he's a rich kid through and through

but he also stabs people

still not very piratey in my head

maybe with a pirate reader that converts him into a pirate after kidnapping him, or pirate reader who thinks she's kidnapping him but it's all according to his plan

i should think about this more

now Bruce? he'd be a secret pirate cause he's dramatic like that

I bet he'd chase himself and then pretend his alter ego is too smart

I bet reader would catch on to that and clown him

still dick is undoubtedly more jack sparrowy

anyways

I have 5 credit tests barely scattered between this and the following week and no time and should study more, but my brain is filled with fictional characters, so I might as well finish writing the 4th part of the Bruce series and then make a new one

who knows 🤷‍♀️

[jayblades]

practice round

dick grayson x fem!reader

summary; when some guy takes an interest in you, your extremely thoughtful best friend dick convinces you that you need a little more… experience. and who better to help you practice, than himself?

warnings; 18+, manipulation, yandere-lite themes… best friends <3 nsfw, reader is inexperienced, but not a virgin, possessiveness, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill)

author’s note; felt depraved things writing this… if you enjoy then let me know!

You’re sat on your bed, curled up near the edge where Dick is sprawled out on the floor beside you, scrolling through his phone.

He noticed a slight shift in your behaviour about ten minutes ago when you’d received a notification on your phone. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about it — he supposes it doesn’t really matter if you don’t. He’ll just look through it later, but of course he wants you to be the one to share.

You look so nervous, knees drawn up to your chest like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It makes something sharp twist in Dick’s stomach.

Finally, you blurt it out. “So… this guy asked me out.”

Dick stills, his finger hovering over his phone screen as he freezes in place. “Yeah? Who?”

You say his name like you’re embarrassed and Dick smiles, slow and easy. But inside, he’s seething. It takes a lot to keep his expression carefully neutral. He’s heard you talk about this guy before, offhandedly calling him cute. He has no idea you may have possibly been forming a crush on him.

You hug your pillow against your chest and scrunch up your nose. “He’s so… popular. You know? Good looking. Everyone’s obsessed with him, so I don’t know…”

“Sure,” Dick mumbles, pretending to focus on his Instagram feed again. “He’s been with… what, half the senior class?”

You wince. Dick thanks the universe in this moment that the guy who has taken an interest in you is basically a manwhore. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess. He’s really, uh, experienced.”

Dick turns around to face you properly. He scans your face, assessing the way you bite at your lip and look down, your gaze faraway somewhere. “Wait, you’re nervous.”

He forces himself to sound surprised, but of course he knows you’re nervous. He’s banking on it, in fact.

You nod, sighing as you lean back on your bed. “What if I’m not enough for him in… y’know, that area. He’s probably used to girls who know what they’re doing and I’ve barely even—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick cuts you off, getting up to take a seat next to you on the bed and reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze your knee. “You’re more than enough, sweetheart.”

He means that. You’re way more than that jackass deserves. Dick has heard how he’s talked about women before. Even if this guy wasn’t scum, there’s no way in hell Dick is going to let him have you. The gears in his mind are already turning and there’s a growing excitement in his lower belly that he can hardly contain.

“You just said that he’s been with so many people,” you point out, frowning at him.

Dick sighs, like it pains him to say it. “Yeah, well. Sure, he’s probably used to certain things. Stuff he’s probably expecting without even thinking about it. But that isn’t your fault.”

You stare at him, looking utterly crestfallen. He can practically hear your heart sinking and it only spurs him on as he shifts closer to you, dropping his voice into something more intimate and safe.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you. You know that right?”

“Thanks, Dick,” you mumble, trying to smile. But he’s not done.

“It’s just guys like him,” Dick continues slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing his words. “They get bored really fast. If something feels too new… too awkward…”

He trails off, allowing the implication to hang heavy between you. Dick is well aware that you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. He’s talking bullshit, obviously. He knows that this guy would kill to have you in his bed and that your lack of experience would only make you more appealing to his sick mind. Dick would know, considering his mind is even sicker when it comes to you. The difference is that you actually mean something to Dick.

“Oh,” you whisper, dropping your gaze. You look disappointed and Dick knows exactly what to say next.

“Look, if you’re that worried,” he starts, sighing like you’ve presented him with a problem. “You could always practice.”

You blink at him, startled. “Practice?”

He smiles at you, all warm and encouraging like he’s offering you a life raft. “Yeah. To get comfortable. Figure out what you like, what feels good. What to do. So that when it matters, you’re not nervous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hesitating. “I guess. But, with who?”

Dick shrugs, noncommittal. “Me, if you want.”

As expected, you whip your head up to gape at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, as though what you’re saying is silly. “Don’t make it weird,” he chuckles under his breath, keeping his hand on your knee. “We’re best friends. You trust me, right?”

You open your mouth, like you’re about to argue but then you shut it. Because you do trust him — you always have. “Yeah, I do, but—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, softening his voice even more. Every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, but they’re necessary, really. You don’t know what you want yet, which is exactly why he’s here to help. “And wouldn’t you want to practice with someone you’re comfortable with? Someone who only wants to make you feel good and confident. To teach you how to make someone happy.”

Lies, lies, lies. He has no intention of letting that happen.

Dick starts to stroke your wrist, thumb gliding lazy circles over your pulse like he’s trying to calm you down. Judging by the way it quickens, he’s doing the opposite and he has to fight to hide his grin.

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper back. “You really think it’ll help?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally up to you. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and marvelling at how your gaze is tracking his every movement. “If you’re already this nervous…”

Your voice comes out impossibly small. “What would we even do?”

Dick’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile triumphantly. He’s got you exactly where he wants and he’s elated.

“We can just kiss for now,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lips, immediately making them part. Fuck, he’s going to have a hard time stopping if that’s all you want to do. “Whatever you want.”

After hesitating for a second and testing Dick’s patience, you finally nod. It’s shy, barely a movement of your head, but you’re smiling at him and Dick feels it go straight to his groin.

“Okay, then,” he murmurs, agreeable like you’ve coaxed him into it. “Do you want to set the pace, or should I?”

Your shoulders relax a little at the kindness in his voice and you swallow. “You… you can.”

He almost groans at your words. So submissive, so willing. You’re giving him permission to do what he wants and oh, he’s going to take it.

Dick gently positions you so that you’re facing him a little closer, sneaking his hand around to your back like he’s done a million times. Except this time, he gently lifts up your chin and offers you a reassuring smile and you can’t help returning it, albeit nervously. It’s Dick after all — your best friend in the whole world. And he’s such a good one for helping you out, right?

As if you’re getting impatient, you glance down at his lips and he decides that’s enough playing around.

Dick leans forward and brushes his lips against yours to test the waters. When you don’t move away, he presses his mouth to yours and your eyes flutter shut.

You’re a little stiff at first, hesitant and unsure as you allow Dick to lead. And he’s more than happy to show you.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back to cradle the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, fully controlling your movements and you let out the tiniest, most helpless whimper he’s ever heard from you.

Dick nearly loses it there and then.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, and his lips brush yours with every word. “You can kiss me back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice coaxing and patient. He brushes his knuckles against your spine and swallows hard when you instinctively arch up into him. “Just… follow what I do.”

You nod, your expression dazed and faraway and when he leans in again, you press your mouth to his in a soft kiss.

Dick smiles against you, rewarding you by slanting his mouth more firmly against yours. This time he lets the kiss linger, letting you feel his warmth, the careful way he parts his lips to guide you how to breathe through it.

When you mimic him, he hums low in his throat, the noise vibrating against your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, barely pulling back, his voice rough with approval. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your lips turn up, a shy smile gracing your face as you shiver slightly. “Thank you,” you mumble out, like you’re embarrassed.

Dick has manipulated you into kissing him and you’re thanking him. He’s so giddy he could burst.

Instead he settles for kissing you again, even deeper as his hands slide down to your hips where they lightly squeeze. The action makes you gasp softly against the kiss and he uses it, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip.

You stiffen, unsure and he immediately soothes you, hand against the side of your thigh. Your nerves are so cute. Almost as cute as the strawberry lipgloss that he’s tasting, which he knows is your favourite.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with patience. “Just a little. Let me in.”

You part your lips, all hesitant and sweet and Dick rewards you immediately by slipping his tongue in your mouth. You melt against him some more and he takes it as a sign to go further until he’s licking into your mouth, kissing you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

He’s borderline devouring you, getting hungrier when he feels you start to move with him, gasping into his mouth and making soft, pleased noises.

Dick can feel how overwhelmed you already are when you helplessly reach out to grab the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching him like a lifeline. He needs more.

Pulling back far enough to speak, he tries to control his own breathing. It’s just so hard when he’s this excited. “When a guy really likes a girl…” he says lowly. “He won’t wanna stop at just kissing. You wanna make sure you’re ready for all of that?”

You stiffen for a second and Dick decides to change his tune, gently kissing your forehead like he always does and begins to shift back a little.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” he relents, trying to sound as flippant as he possibly can when his hard on is painfully straining against his jeans. He begins to slide his hands away from your body as though he’s unaffected. As though his jaw isn’t clenched from the restraint of not touching you. “We can stop.”

“No!” Your hands shoot out to hold his own in place where they grip your waist and your eyes don’t leave his mouth for a second. Your’e panting softly, lips swollen and bitten — courtesy of Dick — and your eyes are glassy. “I— we don’t have to stop… I want to keep going. Please.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so sweetly?

“Whatever you want,” he agrees, voice calm as ever. But his blood is hot and he’s trying so hard not to rip off your clothes and fuck you into the mattress until your bed is broken in half. All in good time, he tells himself as he guides you further back. “Lie down for me?”

You rest your head against your pillows obediently and Dick runs his hands up your sides, slowly and teasingly. “I’m going to take off your shirt now.”

Nodding, you lift up your arms when he begins to peel away your oversized t-shirt, shrugging it over your head to toss it to the ground. Dick’s eyes don’t leave your chest and it’s like he’s a man possessed when he immediately leans down to drop kisses to your neck and down your chest, grazing the swell of your breasts.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, his hands sliding behind your back to fumble with your bra clasp. You don’t stiffen this time and he takes it as permission to unclasp it before sliding your straps down your arms and leaning back to stare at you. “Fuck…”

You shrink under his gaze, trying to place your hands over your chest when he doesn’t move, and the action snaps him out of it.

“Don’t cover up,” he instructs, impatiently brushing your hands away before looking directly into your eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A little laugh leaves you, like you don’t believe him and he decides it’s high time to convince you. Ducking his head down, Dick immediately swipes his tongue across your hardened nipple and you hiss, hand flying up to muffle your gasps as he starts to suck. Everywhere. He’s biting and licking at your chest, purposely leaving marks. If you try and do this with anyone else, they’ll know he was here first with all the blossoming bruises he’s sucking onto your skin.

Your gasps are coming out too quietly for his liking.

“No, don’t cover your mouth,” he says firmly, circling your wrists with his much larger hands to guide them away and pin them to your sides. “Guys like it when you’re noisy.”

Translation: Dick wants to hear you scream.

He returns his mouth to your body, this time venturing lower as he peppers kisses to your stomach. Lower and lower until he’s at the waistband of your shorts. He kisses around your belly button, nipping at your skin to distract you from your nerves as he slides the shorts down your legs.

You’re not even protesting anymore. In fact, you’re eager as you kick the item of clothing off your body. Dick huffs out a laugh against your belly when he sees your pink cherry-print panties. He recognises them from all the times he’s rifled through your underwear draw — it’s his favourite pair.

“Stop laughing,” you say breathlessly as you playfully tug on a strand of Dick’s hair. “It’s laundry day.”

“No, it’s cute,” he says, completely serious as you roll your eyes. The attitude you give him makes him want to fuck it out of you and so he swipes his thumb across the centre of your panties, right where your clit is, pulling a breathless sound from you. “So, so cute.”

You’re already soaked through the pink and red fabric, your wetness forming a damp spot visible through your panties and he grins. Shit, he’s barely touched you.

Dick props up your legs for better access and tugs at your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and then he groans.

He sounds like you’ve just sucker-punched him and before you have the time to process it, Dick sinks a finger into you easily and without any friction.

You’re so wet that it slides right in and the sounds that leave your lips make Dick’s mouth water. You’re gasping on choked breaths as he moves in and out of you, dragging his digit against your walls.

“So responsive,” he exhales, keeping a slow pace as not to overwhelm you. It only lasts a second though, as he can’t help wondering what other noises he can get out of you. His other hand comes up to start circling at your clit and your hand flys up to grab at his inky black locks.

“Oh, sh…shit. Dick, oh my God,” you whimper as the double stimulation makes your body twitch. You’re so consumed by pleasure that you probably don’t realise how hard you’re pulling on his hair — it’s a good thing he likes it. “Oh, please…”

He thinks he could die right now, hearing you beg him. For what, you don’t sound sure, but he obliges you with something. That something being a second finger which slides in almost as easily as the first.

The whine that leaves you is music to his ears and he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching you open in preparation. “Good?”

His question is teasing, since he can tell from the way your eyes are screwed shut that you do think it’s good. You nod nonetheless, whimpering out a “Yeah, so good. S-so good, Dick.”

Dick hums, increasing his pace absentmindedly as his erection brushes against your sheets. He’s practically humping your duvet, it’s pathetic. But he can’t bring himself to feel shameful about it when you’re looking so fucked out before him and he’s barely even done anything.

Fuck, he’s nearly drooling and so he decides the only thing to do is remove his hand from your clit. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact, despite his fingers still moving inside of you.

“Wait, what are you— Nngh.”

Dick flattens his tongue against your cunt and drags it up over your clit. You cry out, tangling your fingers further in his hair and keeping his head between your legs. Not that you need to when he’s eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue is moving against you like you’re his last meal while his fingers curl upwards into your pussy, making your eyes prick with tears. The second he starts sucking at your clit, you arch off the bed and helplessly grind against his face, covering his chin in your slick.

Dick moans into your cunt, pulling away a little to ask you in between licks. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, his fingers pause in their movements and he lifts his head up to look at you.

“I— I don’t know,” you whisper, breathing heavily. “I’ve never… y’know, I haven’t—”

You’ve never had an orgasm

It feels like Dick’s luckiest day alive, he thinks to himself and he can’t help the wicked grin that splits across his face. His slides his fingers out of you, making you whine and his grin widens as he climbs over you, swiping a hand over his mouth before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, starting to pepper kisses over your cheek and jaw. “We still have more practicing. You’re going to cum on my cock for the first time, okay?”

“Okay.” Your response is almost immediate and he huffs out a laugh at how willing you are now. Any hesitation has since left you and Dick doesn’t have to convince you to do anything.

Not when you’re tugging at his shirt to take it off, which he happily obliges, reaching behind his back with one hand to shrug it over his head.

You exhale shakily, reaching out tentatively to trail your fingers over the sculpted lines of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle and the soft scattering of dark hair trailing down to disappear into his jeans.

“You’re beautiful too,” you say under your breath with a shy smile and he lets out a broken laugh, rough and shaky, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss at your pulse point.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

When your hand drags down his abdomen and further down to his waistband, Dick shudders — a harsh tremor wracking through his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Take off my jeans.”

Your fingers fumble to unbutton them and before he knows it, he’s tugging them off and you’re looking down at his cock straining impossibly hard against his boxers.

Dick doesn’t need to instruct you this time, and you’re hastily undressing him, allowing his achingly hard cock to spring free. You let out a breath at the sight of him, his leaking tip practically sore from neglect.

Your hands come up to hesitantly wrap around him, dragging his precum down his length to better stroke him. You do it painfully slow and he hisses through gritted teeth, jerking his hips into your hand which is so, so tiny compared to him.

“Am I doing this right?”

Your quizzical voice nearly makes him buckle, and he decides he’s had enough of not being inside of you.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, sliding a hand up the expanse of your thigh to squeeze your ass. “You’re more than perfect, but if you keep going, I’m going to cum all over your hand and that’s not what we’re practising today.”

You give him a sheepish smile, removing your warm hand and letting it rest by your side while he hovers over you.

Dick glances over your naked frame and nearly sighs aloud at the sight, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you say, nodding at him to continue.

Dick brings his length to your cunt and drags it up and down once to cover the tip in your slick, marvelling at the natural lubricant. He’s not going to need anything else to slip right in and when your body twitches at the feeling of his head dragging against your clit, he smirks.

And then he slips the tip right into you, slowly working you through the delicious burn as you gasp. In the back of his mind, he’s a little bit concerned that you haven’t bothered to ask him to wear a condom (not that he was going to — he knows exactly what birth control you’re on, it’s fine), but your compliance is so naive. He’s glad it’s just for him.

“Ohhh, fuck. You’re doing so well, you can take it,” he grunts out, trying to go further in as slow as possible. His hands are clenched around your sheets as he slowly pushes and pushes deeper into you. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Huh? You gonna take all of me?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you mutter, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“Please what?” Dick stills, not moving another inch as he freezes halfway inside of you. “What do you want me to do, baby? Use your words.”

“Dick,” you rasp out, trying to buck your hips up for more, but Dick grabs your waist and pins you down. You can’t move an inch when he does this. “Please, please, I want more!”

He leans down to chuckle in your ear before he buries himself into you, sinking all the way down to the hilt.

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he’s pulling out and slamming back into you. The cry that leaves you is so beautiful and Dick wants to hear it again and again and so, all of a sudden, he’s driving his hips right into you with a desperation.

His cock is stretching you out more than his fingers ever could and you’re so wonderfully tight that Dick can feel every last inch of your velvety walls wrapped around him, sucking him in like something vicious and needy.

You’re practically incoherent now, the whimpers that leave you are basically sobs as Dick fucks into you hard and fast.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, sweaty curls falling into his eyes as he doesn’t falter in his thrusts. He leans down to press his body against yours as he continues to pound your hot, weeping cunt. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that? You don’t need the practice, you’re perfect. He doesn’t even deserve you. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone fuck you.”

Dick’s control and flippant attitude is slipping as he mumbles the words against your skin, but what else can you expect when you’re scraping your nails down his back and pressing your tits against his chest? He doesn’t even care about fucking you under the guise of practice anymore and instead he’s whispering cruelly into your ear.

“You’re so fucking gone for my cock, I bet you can’t even remember his name,” he chuckles against the shell of your ear and you let out another sob, shaking your head frantically. “What is it, baby? What’s his name?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back into your head when Dick lifts up your leg to position it over his shoulder, hitting a brand new angle that makes your whole body tense and writhe. He repeats the question and you whine, arching your back even more as you clutch his bicep. “Fuck! I— I don’t know, oh my God, I don’t remember. Oh, Dick, please, it’s so good! You’re so fucking good, I can’t—”

Dick smirks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He leans back and brings your other leg over his other shoulder to drive his length into you impossibly deep and you scream his name so loudly that there’s no way your neighbours could miss it.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscene in the otherwise quiet of your bedroom that he wishes he could record it to listen to the audio later. He makes a mental note for next time.

As soon as Dick feels your cunt begin to clench around him, he knows you’re close and fuck if he isn’t too. Sweat is coating his back and he feels out of control — you don’t look any better as there are tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sheen of sweat over them catching in the light.

Fuck, he groans out a guttural noise as he picks up the pace to piston into you like a fucking machine. Reaching over in between your legs, he starts to rub quick circles into your clit with his thumb, leaning down to spit on it.

He watches with awe as his thumb rubs his spit into your cunt and the more he circles your clit, the harder he slams into you. Soon, you’re coming so hard that your body trembles with a high pitched whine and your nails are drawing blood down Dick’s back.

The way your cunt is clutching his cock through your orgasm makes him follow quickly and he’s as much of a wreck as you are, burying his face in your neck and sliding his arms under you to pull you close to him as his hips begin to falter. Before he knows it, Dick is shooting hot ropes of cum all over your walls with a choked groan.

It feels never ending, the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth and he decides he never wants to separate from you, keeping himself buried inside of you as he collapses onto you.

He leans most of his weight on his arms beside you, but he’s close enough to feel your racing heartbeat against his chest as you catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, one of his hands coming over to rest on your belly where he traces his fingers. “So fucking good…”

Your lips curve up into a smile and although it’s tired, he can tell you’re pleased.

He presses soft kisses into your temple, still buried deep inside of you. Your legs stay wrapped around him and your arms encircle his broadness in a bear hug, not eager to let go any time soon.

Dick is such a good best friend, after all.