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deliberate indifference !

ft. dick grayson x fem!reader x jason todd

tags. pseudocest (step-siblings), manipulation, dub-con that borders on non-con for a good chunk, incest, threesome, unprotected sex, guided sex, virginity loss implied, piv sex

note. hai… um sorry 2 io and ryn for this mischaracterisation. please ignore any mistakes / typos i didn’t edit this at all. dick is in his mid 2 late 20s, reader in her early 20s n jason is prob around 19 in this. if i get any canon stuff wrong I apologise.. rbs + feedback so appreciated :3 this is so clunky I apologise gosh..

Jason is trying very hard to seem very interested in the muted TV.

The subtitles are on, but he’s not following, it switches to commercial so he is forced to look dead-on at where you and Dick are sitting all snug. Shoulder to shoulder, bending into each other like cheap metal, his hand resting so casually on your thigh. Which, quite frankly, seems wildly inappropriate to do to your baby sister, but given this family’s track record it almost seems sweet. Doesn't even crack the top ten most inappropriate moments.

You and Dick come together now like cherries, balls, socks. Like a roundworm in a fish. Filling to cavity, stitch to gash, teeth to flesh.

A two-person cult.

It is driving Jason slightly insane to say the least.

When Jason was smaller, kinder, cuter, sweeter, Dick was—well—exactly what it says on the tin. He worked hard for Dick’s affection, it was transactional, he took down a bad guy and got a pat on the head, he saved his ass and got a ‘Nice work, kid.’

It was like feeding quarters into a vending machine only for them to be spat back out. It was, it was—Okay, fine, it wasn't all that bad, but it wasn’t this good.

Like, Stepford Brother good.

Lending you his hand-me-downs—not that Jason could ever fit into those extremely and unnecessarily deep v-necks—picking up little keepsakes when he goes out because they reminded him of you, like there is nothing in this world that comes easier to Dick than loving you.

And none of these big, bad, bitter feelings are new.

Jason has obviously been lonely before.

He’s been an orphan, a thief, a street rat. All of those things at once, in fact. He spent most of his life alone in that damp apartment, the insect-buzzing of the refrigerator to keep him company. But nobody else is lonely because they clawed their way out of the grave, nobody told him that coming back wouldn’t mean coming back to the same place.

To this, to Dick playing happy families with some girl he is meant to call his sister, like that label makes the whole thing charming instead of mildly nauseating. To Bruce—The word dad snags in his throat—So he couldn't exactly be an orphan, even if he tried really hard to be one again, that would require papers Jason doesn't have because he is legally dead and all.

Jason slouches in his seat, the commercials are still on, something about a range of stuffed animals that double as doorstops. Or maybe it was a doorstop that doubles as a plush toy. Either way, it’s the kind of thing you only buy if you’ve already lost the plot, so when the company’s number flashes on screen Jason considers giving them a ring.

He doesn’t stick around long after that. The show nobody is really watching comes back on, Jason is already shambling out of the door as quickly as someone with pins and needles can.

No one notices when he leaves, which is… great. Fantastic. Exactly how Jason likes it.

He steps outside, the Gotham air smells like it’s been sitting in a jar too long. He breathes it in anyway because it isn’t your perfume. He puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the wall, wishes he had a cigarette so he knew what to do with his mouth other than pout. The drizzle washes away the image in his head - of Dick’s hand on your thigh, of your socked feet brushing over his bare legs.

The wind bites too hard, but he lets it.

Without really thinking, Jason peers into the lounge, the glow of the hearth paints you both golden. Through the glass it doesn’t even look real, it’s like he’s watching TV with no subtitles - the worst silent film he has ever seen.

Damian’s cat with his powdery-white mittens is curled up by your feet, yellow candy wrappers litter the table, and you are so, so happy. Over little things. Over Dick being beside you, nudging you, touching you—God, it’s like a fucking vintage Christmas card. The happy animals, the fuzzy socks, the cashmere sweaters, the jokes that he doesn’t get.

(“It doesn’t make any sense if you weren’t there, Jason.” How was he even meant to be there? He was dead. Did you ever consider coming to his grave to tell those jokes?)

He catches his reflection in the glass, warped by the porch lamps and fat rain droplets, tinted a pale teal and sickly green like the start of a nasty bruise, a superimposed ghost.

“Oh,” Jason says dumbly when he finally sees what is going on inside.

He was too busy caught up in his own grief to see when Dick put his tongue in your mouth.

“Oh god,” he whispers, stomach twisting into knots. It feels like he’s flipped to the wrong channel.

Jesus, Dick—He can’t even blame the guy. Making wildly questionable choices with people you should probably leave the hell alone is so typical of Bruce that Jason’s not even surprised he’s passed it onto Dick.

None of what he feels, this churning and aching and burning, is because he cares about being tongue-kissed by his big brother in the family living area while their littlest brother is asleep upstairs. Not at all. He’s pissed on principle. He’s pissed, like, like, morally.

“Figures,” Jason mutters to himself, hands jammed in his pockets as he walks away from it all.

-

“So..?” Dick trails off expectantly, leaning against the kitchen counter as you stir your tea, he’s going for casual, but he’s pulled taut like a rubber band.

“So what?” You echo, looking up at him just as expectantly.

“Jason…” He finally says, like the name is enough to let you know what he’s asking.

“What about him?” You fish out your teabag and drop it in the automatic bin.

Dick sighs loudly, draping himself over you like a dramatic, deadweight blanket. His chin hooks over your shoulder, the coast is clear so he presses wet kisses to the column of your throat, enough to draw a noise of approval from you.

What about Jason? What about him? What about the way every seat in the house is suddenly too small for Jason? What about his little-boy pout and clean-laundry smell and spiky lashes that have no end to them and those big blue eyes that swallow up his whole entire face? What about all of that?

“What did you think of him?” He asks carefully.

It’s been a long, gradual process.

Introducing you and Jason has been a little like trying to place two territorial alley cats into the same home, because you—for a lack of a better words—are his replacement.

You slipped into Jason’s place when it was still warm.

“I’ve met him before, Dick.” You tilt your head and bare your neck for him, one hand coming to scratch at his scalp just how he likes it.

“Yeah, but not like one-on-one, alone, just the two of you—“

“You were literally there.” You laugh, shrugging him off of you so you can face him. You cup Dick’s cheeks, and you really are so cute, it’s why he can’t help himself around you. “I still think he’s a dick.”

“Hey—“

“A jerk,” you correct yourself, smiling sweetly.

”He’s complicated, it’s not his fault, baby.” Dick pouts. “His parents were pretty messed up, and Bruce is messed up, and now he’s messed up.”

“I know, but he’s still an asshole.” You shrug. “And that’s me being nice about him, Dick, I mean the guy has killed people, he’s a murderer—“

“Babe,” Dick cuts in softly, a divot between his furrowed brows.

“It’s true!” You huff, picking up your mug to take to the lounge.

“He’s my brother,” Dick says, though it comes out like an admission.

“And I’m your sister!” It’s thrown over your shoulder as you stomp out into the marbled hall in fuzzy slippers he got you.

“I know,” he coos after you, placating, only a step behind, “I know you are, and I don’t like when anybody says anything about you so why would I want my baby sister being mean to my baby brother, hm?” He tries to sand down your temper with a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Your baby brother is an oaf.” You place your mug down with a clink! before you plop down on the Chesterfield sofa that really was meant to be for display—Just like that great, big grandfather clock. The hand-finished leather has chipped away to reveal this ugly fatty-tissue-yellow and left it looking scruffier than Bruce would like.

(Dick can’t tell you no though, he doesn’t even tell Haley to get off the couch back home.)

“You’re so mean,” Dick mumbles, curled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I’m honest,” you sing-song, letting him trap you beneath him.

“He’s sweet.”

As much as Jason was a goody two-shoes, some part of him had always been incurably wild, a storm-tossed temper that spilt beyond the boundaries Bruce had put in place to cage him. Dick remembers all of it: Jason’s sharp little chin lifted in defiance, fists balled up at his side, he was so small and so upset at a world that had never given him a chance. But Jason did homework on rooftops between patrols because he really liked school - he wanted to earn every last gold star, he never went below green on the traffic light system. He liked to sleep in Bruce’s bed way into his teenage years—it was never about being scared of the dark.

Jason wanted so badly to be good.

He trailed after Dick endlessly. He liked reading romance and period pieces, but he’d read instruction manuals if that was the only thing laying around. He liked shiny bugs, collecting cool rocks, the stars, and grandmas who gave him buttery candies. Jason liked having his cheeks pinched and his hair ruffled despite all the grumbling that came with it. He’d swat at Dick’s hands, flustered, red-eared, bottom lip sticking out so far he almost tripped over it.

He’s always been pouty. Dick’s glad to see that hasn’t changed, he finds comfort in the parts of his life that still make sense. You make sense. There’s no push and pull, no strain or coming back from the dead that make it hard for Dick to figure out who you are and what you think of him.

It’s simple. You’re his baby sister and you love him. Dick is your big brother and he lives for you. He takes care of you, protects you, gets you off like all good brothers do.

“Have you fucked him?”

Dick’s heart jumps out of his chest, Jason’s doll-pout fresh in his mind. “What—Who? Jason?” He sputters. “No!”

“Do you want to fuck him?” Your tone is completely even and he can’t see your face to gauge how you’re feeling. It’s a rather terrifying ordeal.

“…No?”

“Liar!” You turn your head so fast your neck almost snaps. Your eyes are wide, triumphant. “You do, you so do!”

“I don’t!”

“Then why’d you pause?”

“‘Cause… You asked me if I want to fuck my baby brother,” he lies—badly.

“Oh because that’s suddenly sooo weird, huh?” You snort, shifting a little in his grip. “Do you want to fuck your little sister?”

“Yeah,” Dick says without batting an eye, wandering hands settling on your hips, if he flunked the first test at least he gets extra credit now. “All day, everyday.”

You smile at him—a little smug, a little hesitant. “I know you like him.” You reach back and slip a hand between his thighs, fumbling for a moment, prodding like you’re screening him for cancer. “He’s so big and strong.” Your fingers curl around his clothed dick. “If he wasn't so mean I'd get it.”

“You’re mean too,” Dick huffs out, amused, giving one slight thrust into your hand.

“Do you think about him?” You ask softly, now steadily palming him through his sweats. Dick shakes his head which prompts you to ask: “How about when we fuck?”

“No,” he lies—easily this time.

You give him a satisfied smile and slip your fingers under his waistband. He’s not got any boxers on.

“Good,” you hum, like it never even occurred to you to doubt your big brother. Dick has given you no reason to doubt him so why would you start now?

He swallows hard. It’s the most guilty swallow in the whole world, cartoonishly loud and obvious, and yet you believe him. Dick should feel some sort of relief. That you trust him, depend on him, believe that he would never lie to you—And he really, honestly, pinky promise, hasn’t lied to you up until now—And it’s all for a good cause, it’s a white lie, nothing serious.

“I love you,” he says into your neck, damp and hot, groaning quietly when you thumb the leaky tip of his cock.

Beyond the bubble of the sofa, Dick hears the familiar click of Alfred’s Oxford shoes on the floorboards, sweeping in and out of rooms—Dusting, straightening, polishing, turning a blind eye to what you and Dick are doing. Duty first. Dignity first.

Dick can’t blame the guy. What's done is done. And if he puts an end to what’s done on Bruce’s sofa it’ll go on to happen on Bruce’s marble countertops, his double-door shower, the guest rooms or any square foot of real estate that Bruce happens to own.

“Dick?” You mumble, getting his attention by gripping his shaft a little too hard.

“Mm?” He ruts upwards, in time with the grandfather clock. “What, baby?”

“You’re thinking about him, I can tell.”

Dick opens his mouth to protest and let you know that actually he wasn't thinking about little Jason - undead, snub-nosed, freckled cheeky, missing teeth—Well, now he is, and his dick jumps so suddenly it kickstarts his heart, but he wasn't before. He was thinking about Alfred, but that sounds even worse so he closes his mouth.

“Dick,” you say again, whining this time, “you were meant to say no.”

You take your hand out of his pants and he snaps out of it.

“Oh.” He throws a leg over your body to keep you in place, half-heartedly grinding his hard dick against the curve of your ass. “I’m only thinking about you, baby.”

-

Dick is back in Blüdhaven.

He is free to jerk off to whoever he wants without his heart twisting into a fucking pretzel whenever he thinks about you and how much you love him.

He jerks off to Jason when he wakes up in the morning. In front of the bathroom mirror before he showers. Then in the shower, hand braced against the tiles. Before bed to bludgeon himself into sleep. Because if Dick does it enough, maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to purge the thought of Jason out of his fucking mind.

It happens between patrols, on the stairwell, it bleeds into every spare moment, his hand starts feeling a little bit like sand-paper, anywhere he can spare five minutes Dick’s got a hand down his pants. He forgets to message you back, he misses calls despite how much he is always fucking thinking about you.

He considers finding a good therapist, one that’s equipped to deal with these sorts of things, but he doesn’t know what to look for.

What is he supposed to say?

I jerk off compulsively to my younger brother who came back from the dead all ripped and tall and stupidly hot with this soft, milk-sweet pout, but I’m also kind of in a monogamous relationship with my sexy little sister who wants nothing to do with him.

No amount of clinical jargon could make that sound any better.

Dick ends up scrolling through strange forums, he comes across kink blogs, half-baked advice columns about hypersexuality, step-sibling porn videos he watches dolefully. He comes to the conclusion, in classic Dick fashion, that he doesn’t really have any problems whatsoever. He just needs to keep moving. Keep his hands busy with his dick–God, he’s going to be stuck like this forever.

When you come to visit after a few weeks later, dressed way too nicely to be walking down the streets alone - peacoat unbuttoned to show off your legs in that houndstooth skirt - Dick has never felt so shitty.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy to see you, he greets you with a kiss and holds you so tight you almost pop, but he also feels like he is about to vomit out his heart.

“Did you miss me?” You ask, rubbing your nose against his playfully, so sweetly.

A wave of nausea passes over Dick. He’s surprised he isn’t green. “Of course I did, baby,” he coos, kissing your wrists and your jaw and anywhere he can reach.

“I missed you, where’s Haley?” You toss your coat over the back of one of his dining chairs. “It’s so boring without you, Dick, nobody wants to do anything with me, like, ever—Not even Damian, and he’s a kid, you’d think he’d want to do normal kid things, but no!”

Your heels click-clack on the linoleum, going through his kitchen cupboards and pulling out a vase he didn’t know he had to put the flowers you bought on display. “I try to take him to the arcade, to the movies—He does do things with Jon though I guess he still doesn’t… What’s this?”

You hold up a flyer.

HYPERSEXUALITY

Thinking about sex ALL the time? Do your hands need a break? Using sex to avoid problems? Masturbation Procrastination? Do you jerk off in the stairwell—

Dick laughs apprehensively. “Oh, what is that? Must’ve come through with the mail.” He plucks it out of your hand and screws it up. “I don’t need this so uh…” He tosses it in the trash can in one clean shot, flashing you a smile with too many teeth.

“Oh yeah?” You raise a brow at him, squinting as you scan his face.

“Yeah.” Dick nods.

“You’re such a liar!” You jab a manicured nail at his chest, face crumpled up in a frown.

“I’m not lying, baby!” He insists, catching your hand and kissing it. “I swear, it’s not mine—“

“Oh please, Dick!” Your voice rises in frustration. “You look so guilty, it’s not like I’m gonna shame you for—for whatever’s wrong with you, I’m not like that!”

“I know, I know you aren’t, baby, you would never do that to me—“ Sweat prickles the back of his neck, trying to draw you closer to him to calm you down.

“Then why can’t you just tell me what’s going on—“

“I want to fuck him.”

You blink at him.

Hurt, angry, but not surprised.

“I can’t stop thinking about him, I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Dick’s voice cracks as he drops your hands. “I swear, I love you, I love you so much.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before, Dick.” You snort in spite of yourself.

“I know…I know, but it’s different because it’s y’know—It’s Jason.” He makes abstract gestures. “He’s my brother.”

“Uh… Dick, I’m your sister?”

“I know you are, baby, but you didn’t stop being my sister—You didn’t come back to life… I mean I know how to talk to you and what I want from you and what you want from me—It just feels so wrong, y’know? He was a kid and now he’s back and he’s not a kid, he’s taller than me, and he’s such an asshole, but I just…”

“You want to fuck him?” You ask softly, patting his cheek.

Dick nods, blinking back tears. “I want to fuck him so bad.”

“You can fuck him.”

“He doesn’t want to fuck me,” he sighs, slumping forward when you wrap your arms around him.

“Then he’s stupid.”

Dick feels stupid getting worked up over this. He feels stupid for standing here and getting coddled by his baby sister. He feels stupid for—He just feels plain stupid.

“He’s just normal.”

“He is not normal.” You roll your eyes. “Nothing about him is normal or natural, Dick.”

“Don’t be mean to your brother.”

-

You don’t know how Dick does it, but he always finds a way to get what he wants.

He is nothing if not persistent.

Jason is antisocial, hateful, cruel, and his brain is too small for the body he boasts. He sulks and broods more than your daddy, refuses to engage in conversation, and hangs around in corners like a sullen housecat.

And here he is, waiting to be let into Dick’s apartment.

You wonder what Dick told him to get him here. Whether it was a guilt trip or a promise or maybe he was completely honest about his intentions? Well, no. That couldn’t be it.

He grunts awkwardly in greeting. His face is rounder than it should be, and he’s got soft, pink lips, almost babyish in fullness.

“Jason.” You step aside, taking note of the way he almost bumps his head in the entryway. “How come you’re here?”

Shifting from foot to foot, Jason shrugs. He looks embarrassed. Unsure of how to behave around you. “Um… Dick told me about what happened to his dog.”

“Haley?” You tilt your head in confusion. “But she’s—“

The bedroom door clicks open, Dick steps out carrying the puppy under his arm. “You’re here, Jason, thank god—Poor baby, she had to get her leg amputated over the weekend.”

“Dick—“ You go to protest, mouth dropping open in shock as he elbows you in the side and gives you one of those Big Brother looks.

“Shit.” Jason looks heartbroken, his big eyes go all watery. “That’s rough… You doing okay, girl?” He reaches out a tentative hand.

Haley, fit as a fiddle, licks his fingers when he reaches out to pet her, tail thumping against Dick’s ribs.

You gape at Dick who smiles back at you innocently.

When he sets Haley down, she makes a beeline for Jason in her usual, wobbly gait, but he’s never seen her before so he crouches down to steady her. He doesn’t know that Haley’s been like that for years. That’s how Dick found her.

What the hell! You mouth at him over Jason’s shoulder. It’s mean. You don’t even like Jason and you still think it’s a low blow, he’s cooing over her for Christ’s sake, he looks like he’s about to cry.

“Isn’t she meant to have that thingy on? The cone?” Jason asks, scratching behind her ears, lips curving upwards only slightly.

“Yeah, isn't she?” You give Dick a pointed look.

“She’s tough,” he says smoothly, “she healed up quick, and the vet said she didn’t need it anymore.” He smiles at Jason all charming.

“Oh, really?” You give him Another Look. Like a this-is-so-fucked-up-I-can’t-believe-you-would-do-this look.

“Yes, really.” Dick nods, blinking at you hard in a I-did-what-I-had-to-do way

“Uh,” Jason cuts into your non-verbal conversation without even knowing, “I’m gonna head off if she’s here with you, don’t think you need two people to help out.” He jerks his chin in your direction.

Dick bursts into a flurry of excuses, ushering Jason away from the door and trying to get him out of his leather jacket.

“Jason, you can’t go now, you just got here—It’s so cold out—You can’t drive all the way home in the dark, it gets so windy out there—I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you, you know that—Why don’t you stay for dinner, we have wine—Do you drink? Are you old enough for that? Please? Please? Please?”

“Jesus, okay, alright, I’ll stay—Just stop talking!”

Dinner is a blur of Dick’s chatter, you wonder if his jaw ever gets tired between talking Jason’s ear off and chewing. Jason contributes almost nothing.

“Uh huh.” “Sure.” “I guess.” “Whatever.”

Dick forces Jason onto the couch to watch a movie, plopping Haley down on his lap like a living seatbelt. He is a bug under a cup. He is a cow that’s about to be tipped.

“Aww, she likes you so much, Jason.”

Jesus. He’s so fake it’s kind of astounding. How many times has he lied his ass off to you before? How many times have you been duped?

About halfway in, Dick makes a move. Haley has left her post on Jason’s lap and wandered into another room, leaving Jason open. Vulnerable to this fucking cougar. You almost feel bad for him.

Dick’s arm is already slung over your shoulder, keeping you tucked close to his chest, the warmth lulling you to sleep—Jason is making himself as small as possible - which is honestly not very small at all considering his size - thighs pressed tightly together to keep himself from bumping Dick’s knee.

“What’re you doing?” Jason’s head snaps towards Dick so suddenly it startles you.

“Hm?” Dick blinks at him, faux-naïf.

“Stop touching me.”

“What, Jason,” he whines, “you’re my brother.”

“Exactly so stop touching me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jason—“

“Stop. Touching. Me.”

“No! I love you, I’m being affectionate, I really think you would benefit from affection, Jason—“

“Get off!”

You’re jostled awake when Dick takes his arm away. “Let me touch you, Jason,” he begs, both of his hands rubbing and down Jason’s broad chest—It just doesn’t get worse than this. Your big brother slash boyfriend is embarrassingly desperate. With the way you two go at it you’d think he wouldn’t be so needy.

“What is wrong with you?!” Jason splutters, “I’m not—I’m not like you and her, okay?”

“What does that even mean?!” Dick lunges at him, trying to wrap him up in an insufferably tight hug, but Jason twists out of his grip.

“I know you two are fucking!” He almost falls off the couch as he and Dick begin to wrestle, pushing and shoving and grappling, the sofa creaking under their combined weight—You’re willing to bet it's mostly Jason’s.

Your gasp sharply. “That has nothing to do with you!”

They don’t hear you, Dick is too busy pinning Jason down and Jason is thrashing wildly. You jump up to avoid getting hit by any flying limbs.

“So what?” Dick pants.

“I don’t want to fuck you, Dick, you fucking freak! I’m not like you or her or Bruce—I don’t wanna do that!” Jason shoves him hard, but Dick doesn’t let up so easily.

“Who said I wanted to do that with you, little wing, I would never, ever cross any of your boundaries—“ He yelps when Jason sends them both onto the ground.

“Bullshit—And don’t—Don’t call me that!” Jason looks close to tears, he’s so whiny when he speaks you sort of start to understand why Dick has gone to such lengths to try and get his mouth on him. ”You’re crossing so many boundaries!”

“Don't cry!” Dick flips them both over again so he is back on top, straddling Jason’s hips. “I love you! Why don’t you understand that?”

“I do! I just don’t get why you need to show it like this!” Frustrated tears wet his dark lashes, he’s got heartbreakingly big eyes, and his lips are so soft and pink and wet and god Dick is really starting to rub off on you. Worryingly so.

“Dick, I think you should let him go—“

“This is none of your business!” Jason yells at the same time Dick says very desperately, “Baby, just let me handle this!”

“Because I love you!” Dick insists, cupping Jason’s cheeks so hard his pout is forced into an even poutier pout. “I want to show you how much I love you!”

“Get off me, Dickhead! You’re fucking insane—Mmmph!” All of his protests are swallowed up by Dick’s mouth landing right on those pink lips, the same pair of lips shaped for suckling, clinging, latching, and needing—God, you sound exactly like Dick.

Jason squirms, he kicks his legs, but after a minute he goes lax. For one terrifying second you think he might’ve lost oxygen and passed out. Or his heart has given out in shock—Oh god, he is dead. Jason Todd has been suffocated to death on Dick’s shag rug. He has died again. How are you meant to tell Bruce?

But then you see it—His fingers twitch, his shoulders loosen, his face relaxes.

When Dick pulls back a clear string of fate keeps their lips connected. “There you go,” Dick coos, soothing him with gentle hands that run through Jason’s hair. “I bet you feel so much better now.”

A plethora of emotions pass over Jason’s face in the span of a few seconds.

“That’s all you needed, hm?” Dick continues to coo, “you just needed big brother’s—“ He lets out a guttural sound when Jason punches him in the gut. “What the fuck?!”

Jason glares at him, and then sits up on his elbows, seeking out another kiss that Dick gives to him in a heartbeat. It’s wetter, hotter, Dick sucks on his tongue like he does yours and Jason whines.

“Dick…” You cross your arms over your chest, feeling both left out and stupidly horny.

He doesn’t notice or he chooses to ignore you, licking the spit from Jason’s shiny chin to dribble it back into his mouth.

“Dick!” You try again, louder this time.

He pulls back, dazed. “What, baby?”

“Are you serious?!”

He blinks like he’s clearing his head. “Oh.” He shifts, climbing off of Jason who lies there, chest rising and falling.

Dick rids himself of his sweats, cock bobbing between his thighs as he sits back on the sofa. You can get mad at Dick, but you can’t be mad at Dick’s dick. It’s like perfect. The only thing prettier than his face is his dick. Your mouth waters and you sink to your knees in front of him.

It’s more of a reflex than a decision.

Still sprawled out on the rug, staring blankly at the ceiling like it can offer him some sort of guidance, Jason sits up to watch.

“Jason, don’t just watch.” Dick gestures for him to come over.

Scowling, Jason shakes his head. “I’m not—I don’t wanna!”

“Mhm?” Dick laughs, unconvinced, his thighs spreading further as you begin to mouth up and down his shaft, one hand squeezing his sac.

Jason recoils like he has been slapped, and then very slowly he shuffles closer, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of him. You bet he’s flushed pink down to his toes. “I don’t know how to… I’ve never done that,” he admits awkwardly.

“I know, baby, but that’s why I’m your big brother.” Dick pats his head. “I can teach you all about it.”

“Don’t be gross…” Jason mumbles, you feel his eyes on you, watching you work Dick’s cock deep into your mouth, gagging wetly when it hits the back of your throat.

“Go on, baby,” he encourages, placing a gentle hand on your head, “you can do better than that, I know you can.” Dick groans when you swallow around him, his hand flexes and you know he’s resisting the urge to make you choke on it. He’s trying not to scare Jason off.

How cute.

“You see that?” Dick rasps, his hips jerk upwards and you pull off of him coughing. “Easy, right? You think you can do that for me, little wing?”

You shoot Jason a glare, he nudges you out of the way with a quiet, “Move.”

His fuck-me-stupid pout stretches around Dick’s cock, and he looks up with his stupidly big eyes. Dick curses under his breath and gently reminds him not to use teeth. Okay. So it fits in his mouth. No big deal. Dick’s not that big, and Jason’s mouth is fucking huge.

“You’ve got it,” Dick reassures gently, he’s itching to push Jason’s head down—He’s a head-pusher at heart and a gentleman second.

There’s no fumbling or choking or anything of the sort.

In one fluid motion—He just takes the whole fucking dick down his throat. Screw you, screw you, screw you. You kill him a hundred different ways in your mind. You tear off his limbs and throw them to Haley. You tie him up naked and ship him off to Bruce in a box with a ribbon on it.

“Fuck,” Dick gasps, “Jason—See? I knew you’d be good at this.”

It’s because he has a whore mouth and whore eyes and a whore body and a whore throat and he’s just a total whore—You hate him more than you ever have so you reach out to pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise and pops off of Dick’s cock, letting out a ragged breath.

“Hey, that wasn’t very nice,” Dick chides, but you know him and you hear his voice getting thick with heat, and you know he found that hot, you know he wants to fuck that slutty mouth until Jason cries.

“I was just—“ You go to speak, but he clicks his tongue.

“C’mon, baby, hands and knees.”

“Dick—“

“Go on, baby,” he coaxes, crouching down beside you like you’re a naughty puppy, “hands and knees, show Jason how good you can be.”

You can show Jason how much better you are than him.

“That’s it, there we go, what a good, good girl.” He smooths a hand down your spine as you arch your back and stick your ass out just how your big brother has taught you. Just how he likes it.

Jason looks away, his cheeks burning.

He can’t face you.

Dick’s hands skim over Jason’s arms. He’s got biceps the size of your head and it makes you slightly dizzy. “Don’t be shy, Jason, I’m your big brother,” he says, “it’s natural.”

You watch intently as Dick pulls Jason’s shirt over his head, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth at the sight of his bare chest. Are they bigger than yours? You put all of your weight on one arm to cup your tit—No, you’ve totally got him beat in that category.

Dick feels him up shamelessly. Not an inch of Jason’s body is left untouched. He gets him out of his jeans, his boxers coming down with them.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper to yourself as his dick, too heavy to hold itself up, bounces out against his thigh.

“Woah.” Dick whistles. “Look at you, little wing, I should be calling you big wing.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Jason grits out, his whole face is red and you’re starting to think he’s a bit of a crybaby as his bottom lip trembles. To be fair, if you died malnourished and fifteen and came back with that monster, you’d develop some form of dick dysmorphia.

Dick ignores him, smiling gleefully. “Look at this, baby, look at how big your baby brother is.” He cups Jason’s cock with both hands, showing it off like a prized vegetable.

You can’t even hide how your mouth waters. It’s gorgeous. Flushed pink like him with a tip leakier than his eyes. It’s the sort of dick that would turn a convent into a brothel, the sort of dick that makes angels sing.

They shift to sit behind you, you feel Dick’s warm hand on your ass, squeezing it before he gives you a firm smack. It feels less affectionate and more like you’re a racing horse. He spreads you open, both your holes clenching tight as he runs a finger down your slit.

Jason can see all of you. Your puffy pussy lips, the way your clit sticks out, what your asshole looks like. It’s humiliating. But you think that dick could send you straight to heaven so you don’t complain. Not even a peep.

“See how much your sister loves you, baby?” Dick thumbs your clit. “It’s all for you.”

Jason’s voice is wobbly when he speaks. “Dick… I don’t know how—I dunno how to do…do it.”

You groan out in frustration. Men like him don’t deserve dicks like that. “It’s really not that hard.” Dick spanks you once more.

“Put your hands here.” Two big, clammy hands grasp your hips. He’s so gentle it upsets you. “Good boy, I’ll line you up, okay?”

“Okay.” Jason swallows hard.

The tip of his fat cock nudges your hole, it jumps in Dick’s hand and bumps your clit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Ready, baby?” Dick asks, guiding the tip into you.

“Just put it in, please, fuck.” You claw at the carpet in anticipation.

“Go on, little wing, you can do it,” he coos, and it hurts, it hurts so good as Jason forces your slick hole open as he slides into you.

Your toes curl and your back arches and you think it’s going to come out of your throat as you let out a strangled noise. “Oh my god, oh my god—“

With Dick’s gentle guidance, Jason starts to fuck you. Slowly, gently, he isn’t doing what you want him to do. He isn’t using his dick right. He can’t do anything right but suck cock, apparently.

“Harder,” you beg, looking at him over your shoulder, “harder, Jason, please.”

He blinks at you, his keyhole-lips parted. It makes him look so fucking dumb. He makes you so fucking mad. Tall, handsome, big dick and he can’t even follow a simple instruction.

“Jason,” Dick cuts in, placing gentle hands on his hips, “you should give your big sister what she wants.”

You watch through lidded eyes as Dick holds Jason from behind, chest pressed flush to his back. He sucks the side of his neck, licks at his Adam’s apple all while steering his hips until Jason is snapping into you.

Crying out, you bury your face in the carpet. It smells a lot like wet dog, but that doesn’t matter right now—Not when his cock is in your guts and your pussy is so wet it’s dripping down your thighs and—

“Oops,” Dick laughs as Jason’s dick slips out with a soft pop, the blunt head pushing against your tight rim instead. “Be careful, little wing, you could kill her with this thing.”

Fed up, you reach back blindly and grab his slippery cock, pushing your ass back onto it until he’s snug inside of you.

“There we go, got there in the end,” Dick chimes playfully, “she knows what she wants, little wing, all you have to do is keep giving it to her.”

Jason thrusts forward. Hard. Your whole body jolts and your knees get carpet burn. He does it again. Again. Again. Tip bumping your cervix with each stroke. Your pussy is so wet it sounds disgusting. You’d be embarrassed if you had the time to think straight.

His cock pushes out all the air in your lungs—It’s the kind of fucking that should put Jason in charge. Rough. Unrelenting. Mean.

But he’s whining, and Dick is calling him a good boy while he drives your body into the carpet. He might fuck you through the floorboards and into the apartment below.

“You’re such a good boy, Jason.” There’s wet noises that make you tighten around Jason’s twitching cock. The smacking of lips. Muffled whining and groaning and you want to see them makeout so fucking bad, but you don’t have the energy to get up. Your face is glued to the carpet, drooling all over the carpet, you think you’re going to pass out on this carpet.

The sound of Jason’s broken little noises and Dick’s constant praise funnels in and out of your ears like you’re underwater. Your belly knots so tight it hurts. Fuck. It feels like something burst. Or you have a really, really bad cramp—And then it crests and you squeeze his cock so tight Jason lets out a soft gasp. You feel like you’re burning. White-hot from the tip of your toes to the top of your head.

Jason follows helplessly, whimpering as he stills inside of you, cock twitching before it pumps a load into you. Dick kisses the whines straight out of his mouth. His cock slips out of your gaped cunt, his cum trickling down your thighs.

“Jason! My carpet!” Dick blurts.

“Your carpet stinks,” you mumble, finally regaining feelings in your legs as you roll onto your back, ignoring the wet squelch beneath your ass as you smear Jason’s cum much further into the carpet. “Did you cum?”

“Of course I did, show her your ass, little—“

“Shut up, Dick!”

“Ohhh, did you put it inside him—“

“No!” Jason snaps.

“Not yet.” Dick presses a kiss into his hair. “We’ll save that for next time.”

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