you wake him when the baby’s being fussy d. grayson
fem!reader wc ! 2.2k warnings ! fluff but suggestive, mentions of unprotected sex, dickiebird is sleepy, bad humor, some talks of parenthood jokingly idk? 🗒️ very rare dada dickie feature i lit adore him. reblog and i’ll give u a kiss 😋 now playing ! babyfather — sade 🎧
The hum of the air conditioning unit permeated the darkness of the apartment.
Snickering to yourself for the upteenth time, you hugged your baby close. You were a new parent afterall, so you had to check to make sure you were holding them correctly, peeking beneath the folds of the blanket as you shifted your weight on the mattress. What a cute baby.
That is, if a baby could be one of the many plushies your ever-doting boyfriend Dick bought you last Valentines’ weekend.
It was doll-like and small, fitting in your arms perfectly for this great scheme. With a deep inhale to compose yourself, you clicked play on the Youtube video on your phone, teasing the volume button up, up, up, every few seconds.
Next to you there was a sleeping Dick Grayson, Blüdhaven’s finest — figuratively and literally — and Gotham’s resident heartthrob. He laid on his stomach, dark hair spread out over the pillow beneath him in thick curls and a strong arm thrown overhead. His right leg hung half off the bed from where it strayed out of the comforter as his fingers twitched softly in his sleep.
The sound of an infant’s wail came from your phone’s speaker, softer, then louder and even louder again. Your boyfriend did not so much as flinch. Desperate, you clutched the swaddled plushie to your chest with one hand and nudged him with the other.
“Dick,” you called out to him. He shifted only slightly. “Baaabe…” you murmured, pushing at his shoulder. “Wake up.”
With a groggy grumble in the back of his throat, he turned on his side, facing away from you. You scoffed, pressing the volume button harder as you bounced your sweet bundle of joy against your bosom.
You heard him groan and you nudged at him with your leg under the comforter, giving a small kick to his muscled thigh. “Hm?” came muffled into the pillow.
“She keeps crying,” you sighed sadly. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
At the sound of your voice, he turned to face you, his eyes barely opened and a sliver of shiny drool at the corner of his mouth. You almost laughed in his face. Oh, poor baby.
“Did you try feeding her?” He slurred with a yawn, loud and wide-mouthed like it hurt him to not be asleep right now. The noise made his brows furrow tightly.
“What do you think I’ve been doing while you were snoring?” You scoffed. “She just won’t sleep and I don’t know what else to do.”
“M’sorry,” he whispered, scooting closer to where you were until your shoulders pressed together. “I’ll take her.” Dick slid his hands under yours and retrieved the swaddled faux newborn, his eyelashes fluttering with exhaustion.
“You’re tired, you don’t have to.” Came your attempt at intervention, but he relented, his nose brushing the side of your cheek — his version of a kiss when he was between dreamland and reality — and he hummed, attempting to soothe the baby in his arms with a few soft rocks from side to side.
You pressed your lips together to hold your composure. No, you couldn’t laugh yet.
“Shh,” he cooed to the bundle in his arms, clutching it closer to his chest with another long yawn. “C’mon, let’s... let’s go beddy bye—”
“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’ll drop her.” A weak hum was his response as his eyelashes fluttered downwards again, his head drooping ever so slightly.
“M’ awake,” he inhaled deeply, shifting to pull his upper body up the slightest bit while his fingers strummed sweet little taps and absentminded traces of shapes over the swell of the swaddle where the plushie’s back was covered. “I’m awake, honest.”
A snort escaped you. “You sure about that, baby?”
“Baby....” he repeated, sweet and low. A huh sound was your response as you turned the volume down on the cries, the softest little hiccups lingering until you finally shut them off. He shook his head and murmured it again. “...baby,” but not Baby as in you, baby as in...
“Jus’ needed her Dad,” he hummed, his eyes sinking closed again. “Dada’s got you...” Your heart stuttered in your chest. You watched him rock the little bundle as sleep began to carry him away again, his shoulders slumping slowly and his head falling back against the pillow top.
You shifted closer to him, your face heating up just the slightest the longer you stared at him with the pretend baby in his arms and his face relaxed with sleep. He was so beautiful.
Carefully, you reached a hand out and brushed aside the thick curls curtaining his forehead. The corner of his lips curved upwards and you stifled a giggle.
He looked so peaceful drifting off, one of his arms secured around the swaddled plushie, both legs out of the comforter now. “Dick,” you whispered, your fingertips trailing his hairline then down his jaw, across the line of it then back up to his cheekbone. “You’re losing the covers.”
His fingers twitched against the blanket hugged to his chest and you smiled. “Hey, sleepyhead...” you teased, planting a brief peck on the corner of his lips. His feet shuffled back under the comforter, one slotted between your thighs. You felt him smile.
“Wha....time ’s it?” He slurred grogilly, eyes still closed.
“Early,” you hummed. He made a sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat and you leaned down to kiss him properly like you always do when you wake him up. “You can go back to sleep.”
“Nuh uh.” Dopey, he smiled lazy and wide. “Kiss me more.”
“Yes huh, Sleepy Wing,” you laughed. “I just didn’t want you to wake up with cold feet—” his other hand snaked around your waist and you squealed, trying (or pretending to) wiggle away from him to no avail as he yanked you into his chest, nose burrowing into to your hair to steal kisses along your temple.
He smooshed his cheek against yours. “Ah! Quit it, you big baby—”
“Yeah, baby?” Dick teased, but the chuckle died in his throat the moment the last syllable left him. His eyes snapped open in a startle and he nearly shoved you away from him out of shock. “Baby!” he exclaimed, hoarse.
“The baby— she—” he shakily propped himself up on his elbows, eyes squinted half shut from the heaviness of sleep. When the swaddled plushie slid down his chest, he caught it in a delirious panic. When he looked down and realized what he was holding, he looked back at you, then to the plushie again.
It was quiet for several moments, and his brows knitted in half-asleep confusion. “Surprise?” You nudged his thigh with your foot. “Richard Grayson, you are the father.”
He ran a slow and deliberate palm across his face, then exhaled long and heavy. “I’m not awake enough for this.”
You burst out laughing. “Oh, my poor baby—”
“No, nope, mm-mm.” He shook his head firmly. “Not another b-word in this house.” All the while, he scooped up the swaddled plushie and carefully set it down on the other side of the bed.
With a grasp of his bicep, you pulled him back down next to you. His head hit the pillow with a soft thud, his thick curls fanning out. “Wow, I’m suing for child support—”
“Enough,” he groaned, faux frustration overpowered by a warm laugh tickling the palm you had cradling his face, moving his hair away from his forehead and bringing it back. “I really thought we had a baby. It was jarring. But kinda... kinda nice.”
Your fingers ceased. “You want a baby with me, D?”
There was a slight twitch in his shoulders as they tensed then relaxed again. “I mean... do you wanna have a baby with me?”
With a scoff, you shoved his arm. “Say it again, you didn’t sound unconvincing enough the first time.” He whined in protest only to pull you closer to him, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.
“...I’ve thought about it,” he murmured, barely audible.
“What?” You turned your head with a swift lean back to catch any sort of glimpse of his face. The pounding of your heart swelled in your ears. “Dick, I was just teasing you—”
“But, do you?” He tilted his head to look up at you. You swallowed. “I mean, really.” His hand found yours where it lazed drooped against his shoulder and he brought it to rest against the side of his face.
You closed your eyes momentarily in thought. “Maybe,” you whispered, eyes searching his face as your thumb traced the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, maybe I do.”
He laughed, hearty and warm. “Yeah?” His arms banded around your waist as he rolled over onto you, dwarfing you with the bulk of his body. Your legs opened to make room for his hips between your thighs while you laughed— a sweet sound he stole from you with a kiss that was soft and wanton, like you’d been married for half a decade already and this was just the Monday after a reenacted honeymoon.
“I could give you one right now,” he said, the words melded together against your lips. He tasted like toothpaste with a side of cookies before bed and all the flavors of missing you. “Or just for practice—”
“Funny. I hope comedy pays well when the triplets come.” You chided as your fingers sifted through his hair.
You sighed, his palm grasping hold of one of your thighs to lift it up and there your ankle went, hooked over his hipbone. “Dick—” your lips chased him and he ground you into the mattress further, clothed pelvis flush against yours while you whined for relief.
“That’s usually the tool required, yeah,” his grin was wolfish against your skin. His lips travelled down the bottom side of your jaw, then down the line of your neck, down it went and your fingers seized his hair harder when the prick of a canine had you keening.
“Baby,” he moaned, hips involuntarily bucking forward, harder than he intended but when you’re Nightwing and trained in the art of overpowering, there’s not much you can do to curb your strength. So you were pushed further up the bed and onto your phone, which you didn’t mind until it shoved at your shoulder blade.
“Someone’s eager... been calling out for it what, three times now?”
“No, Dick Dastardly, my phone—” you arched upwards, twisting your body a little to the side to try and grab you phone. He moved your hand away and slid one large arm under your hips, lifting you with ease. You grabbed the phone and with his other hand he immediately snatched it away.
He kissed you again, a little harder this time and you moaned into his mouth, barely hearing the soft impact of your phone being tossed somewhere on the bed. His hands went to your hips with a soft squeeze and you could feel the length of him hardened against your inner thigh.
“I love you,” he rasped out against your mouth. You exhaled a breathy whimper and his eyes glazed over with need. But just ust as you were about to say it back—
There came the familiar wailing of an infant on a perfect loop, piercing the quiet of your shared bedroom with hiccups and needy sobs. Both yours and Dick’s heads shot to the direction of your phone where it lay face down, the light of the screen peeking from the space between it and the sheets.
He looked to you incredulously and you shrugged with a shake of your head. “Nope, this is all you.”
He huffed like he’d been slapped. “Jesus christ,” he reached for the phone with one arm as he stayed hovered over you, the over planted firmly under you to keep you flush against him.
“Baby wants her dada, it can’t be helped,” you snickered into the palm of your hand. “Afterall, it’s good practice.” You felt his grip on you tighten a fraction, and he glanced over at you from the corner of his eye.
Once he’d fought and won against the virtual infant — and by winning, it meant he shut your phone off completely and chucked it onto the nightstand — he dived onto you like a beast on the prowl.
“Let’s have a baby,” Dick said in the middle of grinding against your thigh, your eyelashes fluttering from the heat of his body on yours. “You know, some practice.”
“Oh my God,” you howled with laughter at the way his face had even flushed at his own admission. “You’re insane.”
“Why?” he nipped at your bottom lip playfully. “Doesn’t baby need her dada?” You shoved at his shoulders with a fit of giggles that made him hang his head low, forehead pressed against your sternum in shame.
“I love you,” you whispered and he nodded, smitten, pressing soft kisses into your skin. “Yeah,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Don’t ever let me have cookies before bed again.”
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