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summary: your best friend dick grayson is a vampire & being the stubborn individual he is he refuses to feed from you... well until now!
ââ´ď¸Ë･â
includes: bsf!dick grayson x fem!reader, mature content (18+), mentions of blood, biting, multiple orgasms, he comes in his pants tehehehe, reader has breasts, & hair, grinding, dry humping, love confessions, potentially ooc dick idc, no beta we die like jaybin, 3.6k+ words.
ââ´ď¸Ë･â
A/N: hi! please read the info on my masterlist! this is a new account & i would love some feedback &/or moots!! thank you for reading much love pumpkins!
âAre you hungry?â you asked, not bothering to look up from your book. You already knew the answer. You could tell by the way he twitched from his position strewn across your pink and frilly bedspread, by the way his usual bronzed skin had slowly begun to pale, and the way his eyebrows were no longer knit in concentration over the game on his Switchâ instead drawn tight from the edges of a deep hunger. A hunger you would never understand fully.
He hummed in response, thumbs moving over the device that looked almost comically small in his large hands.
âWell, whenever youâre ready, Iâm right here.â You stretched in your reading chair, legs extending as you finished the last few sentences of your chapter.
Again, you anticipated his response.
A long sigh. He shifted among the piles of pink pillows and blankets, careful not to disturb your stuffed dog heâd perched on his chest.
âWeâve been over this. No.â The answer rolled out flat, practiced, almost mechanical by now.
You closed your book and set it on the side table. Rising, you stretched until your joints popped, letting out a low, contented groan. From across the room, you felt him go still, the inhuman kind of still. At first, this used to scare you; the Dick you knew before rarely stayed motionless. But you had long since grown used to it, learned to love it even, just as you had come to love every other part of him that had changed when he did.
âWhy not? What if I asked with a pretty please this time?â you teased, bending to touch your toes, stretching the last bit of stiffness out from your spine.
He glanced up, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth as he rolled his eyes at your cheeky grinâthen dropped his gaze right back to the game.
Ignoring you. His latest tactic when it came to this. Youâd had this argument so many times it had carved grooves into the both of you. Usually, you let it slide. But sometimes, like tonight, you were stubborn enough to push.
You straightened with a sigh, eyes flicking to him. His focus stayed locked on the Switch, thumbs moving, jaw tight and that was answer enough.
Fine.
Crossing the room, you climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as you crawled across the pile of pillows until you were straddling his lap, sliding easily under his arms. He shifted without complaint, making space like he always did, tucking you against his side so he could keep the screen in view.
You played idly with the worn ear of your stuffed dog resting on his chest, eyes following the little character he guided across the gameâs bright landscape. The room was quiet except for the faint click of buttons, his dying warmth pressed against yours.
You let the silence hang for a beat, scheming. Then, softly, you asked, âHow come youâd do it with Babs and not me?â
It was a low blow, bringing up his ex into this arguement as if you werenât his best friend. You knew it, but you were so tired of the same tired excuse: I donât want to hurt you.
It landed nonetheless. His fingers froze over the Switch. A beat later he tossed the device aside and folded you into a full arm-hold, crushing your hand and the little dog beneath his bicep.
âYou know thatâs different dove.â His voice carrying a familiar sigh.. A cool hand skimmed over your arm, and you could feel itâthe edge of his hunger, sharpening with every second. The fact that he hadnât yet pushed you off and gone straight to the fridge sparked something reckless and hopeful in your chest.
You didnât need to explain your reasoning. He already knew. You would argue that heâd feel better if he just used you every once in a while instead of those cold, stolen bags of blood. That he would do the same for you if the roles were reversed. That you trusted him so why couldnât he trust himself?
What he didnât know (what you would never admit), was that part of you wanted it for yourself. Not just to help him, but because the thought of him so close, mouth against your skin, made something traitorous in you ache. You buried it down where it belonged. You would never jeopardize what you had with him. But still⌠the desire lingered.
âLook, I know youâre sick of me saying itâs because I donât want to hurt you.â He said as if reading your mind. âThatâs still true and always will be. Butââ He broke off, running a hand through his dark hair, and you tilted your head against his shoulder to catch his expression.
It wasnât the usual stern look he wore whenever you pushed the subject. Instead, his cerulean eyes burnedâdesperate in a way that made your pulse quicken. You fought not to squirm in his lap.
âWhen I feedâŚâ He spat the word like it was poison. ââŚwith someone itâs not like just draining a bagââ he faltered, swallowedââwith someone, itâs different. Itâs not just blood. Itâs⌠an exchange. An exchange thatâwell, it creates a tether, a bind of sorts⌠between us.â
âAre we not already tied together?â you teased lightly poking his chest, trying to ease some of the tension. Dick Grayson was rarely nervous, so the way he was acting now was scaring you, albeit still a tiny bit hopeful that this would be the time.
âIâd say being best friends since we were twelve is pretty damn tying.â you added with a small chuckle.
His mouth curved down. âWe areâof course we are. But⌠fuck.â He raked a hand through his hair again. âItâs like having sex, but deeper and closer. Thatâs the only comparison Iâve got and it doesnât even cover the half of it.â He gave a humorless laugh, then met your eyes again, unguarded.
âOh.â The word left you dumbly, like your brain had short-circuited.
Years. Youâd been offering him something that, apparently, was the equivalent of soul-binding sex for years. No wonder heâd resisted.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â you asked, heat creeping up your neck, embarrassed at your own naĂŻvetĂŠ.
âBecause itâs not that I didnât want toâŚâ His words tumbled out fast, raw, unguarded. âI wanted to. Iâ I want to.â His eyes searched your face with almost painful precision, still swirling with that deep, unshakable need. Like he was about to devour you whole.
You dragged shaky breath in and looked away, the weight of it too much to bear. Instead your eyes dropped to his soft lips and you immediately regretted the decision as his mouth was parted just enough to give you the perfect view of his sharp canines.
âYou want to what, Dick?â Your voice wavered, eyes flickering back up to meet his.
âI wanâŚâ He trailed off, breathless, gaze caught on the bare column of your throat. âI want to taste you. And I have for years. But I donât want to huââ
You pressed your fingers against his mouth, cutting him off.
âIf I hear that excuse one more time Dick, so help me God.â Your scowl was sharp, but your hand trembled where it touched him. âYou wonât hurt me. I want this.â the words came out different than they had all the times before.
They hung heavy in the space between you, carrying everything youâd never dared to say aloud. And you knewâby the way his pupils blew wide, by the hunger sparking through his restraintâthat he understood just as well.
You started to pull your hand back, but he caught your fingers between his teeth. Not biting, not breaking skinâjust holding. Your breath hitched, warmth spreading like wildfire through your veins as you shifted to hover fully on top off him. When you moved, your hips accidentally brushed against his; you bit back a groan and he shuddered beneath you at the contact. His large hands shot to your hips, holding you in place with a bruising grip.
âIf I canât promise Iâll be gentleâŚâ His voice rasped low, eyes dragging slowly from the curve of your neck down to where your lounge top dipped, revealing the swell of your breasts.
âAnd if I donât want you to be?â you asked with an arched brow, blush deepening as you nudged your stuffed dog to the side like it was witnessing something it shouldnât.
âBut youâll tell me if I hurt you?â His tone was so earnest, eyes pleading, that you couldnât bring yourself to scold him for asking.
âYes.â The word slipped out in a whisper. Your fingers toyed with the ends of his raven hair, gaze lingering on the sharp gleam of his fangs as you tried to pretend and rationalize that this wasnât tearing right through the fragile border of friendship.
Fuck was this really happening?
âSay it.â He croaked, eyes locked on yours, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before curling his palm around the back of your neck, drawing you down toward him.
âYes, Iââ Your bottom lip trembled as his teeth grazed your skin. âYes. Iâll tell you if you hurt me. Dick, please.â The plea spilled out before you could stop itâpathetic, humiliating, begging your best friend when this was your offer. And yet, the press of his lips against your pulse burned everything else to ash.
He lays a few soft kisses to the thrum of your pulse, the hand on your hip squeezing roughly as the other threaded through your hair in a shakey pass. For a split second, you were grateful you werenât the only one completely affected by this.
A sound slipped from youâhalf incoherent curse, half whine âas you cupped his jaw, trying to pull him impossibly closer, the heat between you raw and unrelenting.
And then his teeth sank into the tender curve of your neck.
Your body seized, startled by the sharp sting before the shock melted into a flood of scorching pleasure that set your every nerve ablaze. Heat raced outward from the puncture, curling through your veins until your vision blurred.
A ragged cry tore free as your fingers tangled in his dark hair. He groaned into you, the sound vibrated against your skin, rattling you to the core. His mouth worked feverishly at the woundâtongue lapping, lips sealingâdrinking you in with a maddening hunger.
More, more, moreâyour body chanted desperately as you rocked against him, grinding your hips fully into his. The barest press of him against your core was enough. Release slammed into you without warning, white-hot and shattering. Your vision burst with stars as your head tipped back, throat bared, offering him more. The rush stole the air from your lungs as your body arched and shook, tears slipping down your cheeks.
He took it all greedily, as if he could consume every tremor and twitch. A growl rumbled deep from within his chest, vibrating through you as he held you tight, moaning against your skin while you fell apart in his arms. It was too much, far too much and yet, not nearly enough.
You hadnât even drawn a full breath before he flipped you, his mouth still fastened to your neck as he pinned you to the mattress. His weight pressed you into the sheets, suffocating in the sweetest way. Every drag of his chest against your taut nipples turned you into a further whining and arching mess.
Your nails carved into the hard muscle of his back, clinging for an anchor as his tongue lavished your hammering pulse. His hands roaming feverishlyâtracing the curve of your hip, the arch of your spine, splaying wide as though trying to claim every inch of you. And ohâhow you let him.
Your legs locked around his waist, ankles straining against the breadth of muscle. You came down from your high just enough for the force of it all to crash into you like a tidal wave. Shock and pleasure blurred until you couldnât tell where one ended and the other began. For the first time, you realized how utterly unprepared you had been for this.
The jut of his hips, the desperate sound torn from his throat, dragged you under again. Heat coiled low, slower this time as it wound through your veins until it pooled heavy in your belly. You could feel it building so cosmically; a part of you begged for mercy while the rest of you ached for ruin. All it took was one cruel roll of his hips paired with the drag of his tongue, and you shattered.
Your voice broke on his name, spilling from your lips again and again until it frayed. The sound of it on your tongue seemed to undo him completely; he keened against your skin, one large hand clamping around the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as he came apart beneath you. You felt his cock twitch through the barrier of clothes, and just like the first two, that was all it took for the shock of a third orgasm to tear through you, slamming into the second until there was nothing left but a pleasure unlike anything youâve ever known.
You were barely conscious by the time he released from your neck. His breaths came ragged against your skin, hot in the crook of your shoulder, while you struggled to catch your bearings. The room filled with the sound of your shared, staggering pants.
His nose dragged along your jaw until his eyes found yours. There was almost no blue left under his half-lidded gazeâhis pupils had swallowed it whole, dark and endless.
The bronze in his skin had returned tenfold, a sheen of sweat making him look as if he were glowing. Your gaze dipped to his mouthâlips parted, stained crimson. Your blood. The sight of his fangs, still glistening, nearly had you coming a fourth time. He was so beautiful.
His hazy, drunken gaze flicked to the punctures at your throat, his brows furrowing as if waking from a dream. His lips parted like he wanted to apologize but all that came out was your name. It was pitiful, raw, and yet somehow the sexiest thing youâd ever heard.
Something inside you cracked. Maybe it was years of want, buried so deep youâd convinced yourself it wasnât there. Maybe it was the wild, unnatural heat still burning through your blood, fraying your restraint. Whatever it was, it broke you wide open, leaving you desperate and shaking as you dragged his mouth to yours.
His lips crashed against yours like heâd been waiting just as long. He made a low, helpless sound into your mouth, his tongue brushing yours in a way that stole every coherent thought. Youâd pictured kissing him many times before, but you could have never imagined this. It was messy, urgent, tinged with the metallic tang of your own blood when you grazed his teeth.
You melted in his grip, and he felt itâbecause in the next breath he had you flipped again, back to straddling his lap. His hands raked down your body, pausing just above the curve of your ass, fingers trembling as if he couldnât decide whether to hold back or give in entirely.
Your lungs screamed for air but you didnât care. You wanted to drown in him. When he tore his mouth away, you nearly cried at the loss. You surged forward to reclaim him, not caring about oxygen or reason, but his lips divertedâcatching your jaw, trailing from your ear until he hovered over the place he had bitten you.
âDick,â you called softly, eyes fluttering shut again.
He answered by swiping his tongue over the wound, as if he couldnât part from the taste of you. It stung, but you welcomed it, tilting your head to bare more. You didnât want this to end, not when it had taken you years to get here.
âFuck,â he rasps, tipping his head to rest against your breasts, ear pressed to the wild song of your heart. âI didnât think it would feel like that,â he admits, dazed.
You slide your arms up his torso, looping them around his shoulders. One hand buries in his hair, holding him to your chest, your thumb brushing the shell of his ear.
âWhat do you mean feel like that?â you ask, brows knitting. He hadnât exactly warned you about the multiple orgasms. Sure, heâd compared it to sex, but that had beenâwell, better than any sex youâd ever had. Still⌠heâd done this before, right? With people who werenât you. Did it feel wrong with you? Did your blood taste off? Like dirty socks? Or rotten pennies? Oh godâ
âHey, heyââ he cut in quickly, lifting his head the instant he felt your pulse stutter. He caught your hand before it could slip from his face, threading his fingers through yours and pressing your joined hands hard against his chest. His pupils were still unnaturally blown, his hair a total wreck from your fingersâsomehow making the earnestness in his expression even softer.
âIt wasnât bad,â he said, voice low but firm. âNot even close. It was⌠the opposite of bad. It wasââ he huffed out a breath, half-laughing at himself, ââit was incredible. I just⌠wasnât ready for it. Clearly.â His chin tipped down toward his sweats, a crooked, sheepish grin tugging at his mouth. âThatâs⌠uh⌠never happened before.â
You blinked at him.
âYou mean with Babs⌠you neverâ?â The words tumbled out, clumsy, half-mumbled, heat crawling up your neck.
He shook his head quickly, color blooming high across his tan skin.
âAnd did she everâŚ?â You couldnât even finish the question, but he saves you from having to elaborate with another shake of his head.
Oh. Fuck.
The clarity slammed into you like a freight train. You had just come three times in your best friendâs lapâand he had too. Fully clothed. While drinking your blood.
Suddenly you were excruciatingly aware of your body: the ache burning at your neck where his teeth had been, the low throb still coiled in your belly, the already hardening line of his cock pressing against the thin, soaked barrier of your underwear and shorts.
As if he could read your mind again, his grip on your hand goes slack. You felt him shift beneath you, an awkward attempt to make space in a place where none existed.
He cleared his throat, voice fragile. âDo you⌠do you regret it?â
You swallowed hard, shaking your head. âNo, Dick. I donât regret it⌠Iââ The words jammed up in your throat. You forced another breath out. âDo you?â you asked instead, eyes locking on his despite the heat still creeping up your cheeks.
âGod,â he laughed, breathless. It was so raw it bordered on bitter. âNo. I donât. Dove, I really donât.â
His gaze searched your face, calculating your reaction before his eyes fall back to your hands, fingers tightening around yours once more.
âI think I need to tell you Iâm in love with you.â
Your mouth parted as his eyes flicker back up to yours. It felt as though all the air was just sucked from room as the silence cut in deep.
He kept talking before you could even draw a breath. âIâm sorry, I just⌠Iâ we can still be friends. Nothing will ever change that, even this. E-everything can go back to the way it wasâŚâ He was babbling now, and you just stared at him, a lump forming in your throat. âBut I feltâwell, I feel like it wouldnât be in good conscience to not tell you. I would never want to take advantage of you, I just didnât think this was going to happen, and if I did, I wouldâve told you first, but Iâoh God, donât cry, sweetheart. Iâm so sorââ
You cut him off, slamming your lips into his. This kiss was slower than the first, deeper, your mouths moving in sync as tears slipped down your face. Your mind felt clearer now; only one thought ran through it: you loved him, and he loved you back.
You pulled awayâslowly, torturouslyâjust as the heat between you started to rise, resting your forehead against his. His breath was warm against your lips.
âWhy didnât we do this sooner?â he asked, a crooked, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth.
You laughed and shoved him further into the pillows. He went easily, chuckling, then retaliated by pinching your sides. You squealed, lurching forward, swatting at his hands.
âHm, I wonder whyâŚâ you teased, leaning down to nip at his ear. âMaybe we should do it again to make up for lost time.â Your grin widened when you felt the shiver run through him.
âItâs too soon, you fiend,â he laughed, mock-scolding. âWhat was it⌠three? Three orgasms and youâre already asking for more? If I didnât know any better Iâd think youâre the one with the bloodlust.â
âI hate you,â you whined, hiding your face in his neck.
âNo you donât,â he said immediately, smirk dripping off his voice.
âYouâre right,â you murmured, âI donât. In fact, itâs quite the opposite.â
âReally? Tell me more,â he said, wiggling his brows. The motion was so classically him you couldnât help but giggle.
You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his, eyes flicking briefly to his mouth before meeting those blue eyes again. âIâm in love with you too, Richard Grayson.â
summary: your best friend dick grayson is a vampire & being the stubborn individual he is he refuses to feed from you... well until now!
ââ´ď¸Ë･â
includes: bsf!dick grayson x fem!reader, mature content (18+), mentions of blood, biting, multiple orgasms, he comes in his pants tehehehe, reader has breasts, & hair, grinding, dry humping, love confessions, potentially ooc dick idc, no beta we die like jaybin, 3.6k+ words.
ââ´ď¸Ë･â
A/N: hi! please read the info on my masterlist! this is a new account & i would love some feedback &/or moots!! thank you for reading much love pumpkins!
âAre you hungry?â you asked, not bothering to look up from your book. You already knew the answer. You could tell by the way he twitched from his position strewn across your pink and frilly bedspread, by the way his usual bronzed skin had slowly begun to pale, and the way his eyebrows were no longer knit in concentration over the game on his Switchâ instead drawn tight from the edges of a deep hunger. A hunger you would never understand fully.
He hummed in response, thumbs moving over the device that looked almost comically small in his large hands.
âWell, whenever youâre ready, Iâm right here.â You stretched in your reading chair, legs extending as you finished the last few sentences of your chapter.
Again, you anticipated his response.
A long sigh. He shifted among the piles of pink pillows and blankets, careful not to disturb your stuffed dog heâd perched on his chest.
âWeâve been over this. No.â The answer rolled out flat, practiced, almost mechanical by now.
You closed your book and set it on the side table. Rising, you stretched until your joints popped, letting out a low, contented groan. From across the room, you felt him go still, the inhuman kind of still. At first, this used to scare you; the Dick you knew before rarely stayed motionless. But you had long since grown used to it, learned to love it even, just as you had come to love every other part of him that had changed when he did.
âWhy not? What if I asked with a pretty please this time?â you teased, bending to touch your toes, stretching the last bit of stiffness out from your spine.
He glanced up, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth as he rolled his eyes at your cheeky grinâthen dropped his gaze right back to the game.
Ignoring you. His latest tactic when it came to this. Youâd had this argument so many times it had carved grooves into the both of you. Usually, you let it slide. But sometimes, like tonight, you were stubborn enough to push.
You straightened with a sigh, eyes flicking to him. His focus stayed locked on the Switch, thumbs moving, jaw tight and that was answer enough.
Fine.
Crossing the room, you climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as you crawled across the pile of pillows until you were straddling his lap, sliding easily under his arms. He shifted without complaint, making space like he always did, tucking you against his side so he could keep the screen in view.
You played idly with the worn ear of your stuffed dog resting on his chest, eyes following the little character he guided across the gameâs bright landscape. The room was quiet except for the faint click of buttons, his dying warmth pressed against yours.
You let the silence hang for a beat, scheming. Then, softly, you asked, âHow come youâd do it with Babs and not me?â
It was a low blow, bringing up his ex into this arguement as if you werenât his best friend. You knew it, but you were so tired of the same tired excuse: I donât want to hurt you.
It landed nonetheless. His fingers froze over the Switch. A beat later he tossed the device aside and folded you into a full arm-hold, crushing your hand and the little dog beneath his bicep.
âYou know thatâs different dove.â His voice carrying a familiar sigh.. A cool hand skimmed over your arm, and you could feel itâthe edge of his hunger, sharpening with every second. The fact that he hadnât yet pushed you off and gone straight to the fridge sparked something reckless and hopeful in your chest.
You didnât need to explain your reasoning. He already knew. You would argue that heâd feel better if he just used you every once in a while instead of those cold, stolen bags of blood. That he would do the same for you if the roles were reversed. That you trusted him so why couldnât he trust himself?
What he didnât know (what you would never admit), was that part of you wanted it for yourself. Not just to help him, but because the thought of him so close, mouth against your skin, made something traitorous in you ache. You buried it down where it belonged. You would never jeopardize what you had with him. But still⌠the desire lingered.
âLook, I know youâre sick of me saying itâs because I donât want to hurt you.â He said as if reading your mind. âThatâs still true and always will be. Butââ He broke off, running a hand through his dark hair, and you tilted your head against his shoulder to catch his expression.
It wasnât the usual stern look he wore whenever you pushed the subject. Instead, his cerulean eyes burnedâdesperate in a way that made your pulse quicken. You fought not to squirm in his lap.
âWhen I feedâŚâ He spat the word like it was poison. ââŚwith someone itâs not like just draining a bagââ he faltered, swallowedââwith someone, itâs different. Itâs not just blood. Itâs⌠an exchange. An exchange thatâwell, it creates a tether, a bind of sorts⌠between us.â
âAre we not already tied together?â you teased lightly poking his chest, trying to ease some of the tension. Dick Grayson was rarely nervous, so the way he was acting now was scaring you, albeit still a tiny bit hopeful that this would be the time.
âIâd say being best friends since we were twelve is pretty damn tying.â you added with a small chuckle.
His mouth curved down. âWe areâof course we are. But⌠fuck.â He raked a hand through his hair again. âItâs like having sex, but deeper and closer. Thatâs the only comparison Iâve got and it doesnât even cover the half of it.â He gave a humorless laugh, then met your eyes again, unguarded.
âOh.â The word left you dumbly, like your brain had short-circuited.
Years. Youâd been offering him something that, apparently, was the equivalent of soul-binding sex for years. No wonder heâd resisted.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â you asked, heat creeping up your neck, embarrassed at your own naĂŻvetĂŠ.
âBecause itâs not that I didnât want toâŚâ His words tumbled out fast, raw, unguarded. âI wanted to. Iâ I want to.â His eyes searched your face with almost painful precision, still swirling with that deep, unshakable need. Like he was about to devour you whole.
You dragged shaky breath in and looked away, the weight of it too much to bear. Instead your eyes dropped to his soft lips and you immediately regretted the decision as his mouth was parted just enough to give you the perfect view of his sharp canines.
âYou want to what, Dick?â Your voice wavered, eyes flickering back up to meet his.
âI wanâŚâ He trailed off, breathless, gaze caught on the bare column of your throat. âI want to taste you. And I have for years. But I donât want to huââ
You pressed your fingers against his mouth, cutting him off.
âIf I hear that excuse one more time Dick, so help me God.â Your scowl was sharp, but your hand trembled where it touched him. âYou wonât hurt me. I want this.â the words came out different than they had all the times before.
They hung heavy in the space between you, carrying everything youâd never dared to say aloud. And you knewâby the way his pupils blew wide, by the hunger sparking through his restraintâthat he understood just as well.
You started to pull your hand back, but he caught your fingers between his teeth. Not biting, not breaking skinâjust holding. Your breath hitched, warmth spreading like wildfire through your veins as you shifted to hover fully on top off him. When you moved, your hips accidentally brushed against his; you bit back a groan and he shuddered beneath you at the contact. His large hands shot to your hips, holding you in place with a bruising grip.
âIf I canât promise Iâll be gentleâŚâ His voice rasped low, eyes dragging slowly from the curve of your neck down to where your lounge top dipped, revealing the swell of your breasts.
âAnd if I donât want you to be?â you asked with an arched brow, blush deepening as you nudged your stuffed dog to the side like it was witnessing something it shouldnât.
âBut youâll tell me if I hurt you?â His tone was so earnest, eyes pleading, that you couldnât bring yourself to scold him for asking.
âYes.â The word slipped out in a whisper. Your fingers toyed with the ends of his raven hair, gaze lingering on the sharp gleam of his fangs as you tried to pretend and rationalize that this wasnât tearing right through the fragile border of friendship.
Fuck was this really happening?
âSay it.â He croaked, eyes locked on yours, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before curling his palm around the back of your neck, drawing you down toward him.
âYes, Iââ Your bottom lip trembled as his teeth grazed your skin. âYes. Iâll tell you if you hurt me. Dick, please.â The plea spilled out before you could stop itâpathetic, humiliating, begging your best friend when this was your offer. And yet, the press of his lips against your pulse burned everything else to ash.
He lays a few soft kisses to the thrum of your pulse, the hand on your hip squeezing roughly as the other threaded through your hair in a shakey pass. For a split second, you were grateful you werenât the only one completely affected by this.
A sound slipped from youâhalf incoherent curse, half whine âas you cupped his jaw, trying to pull him impossibly closer, the heat between you raw and unrelenting.
And then his teeth sank into the tender curve of your neck.
Your body seized, startled by the sharp sting before the shock melted into a flood of scorching pleasure that set your every nerve ablaze. Heat raced outward from the puncture, curling through your veins until your vision blurred.
A ragged cry tore free as your fingers tangled in his dark hair. He groaned into you, the sound vibrated against your skin, rattling you to the core. His mouth worked feverishly at the woundâtongue lapping, lips sealingâdrinking you in with a maddening hunger.
More, more, moreâyour body chanted desperately as you rocked against him, grinding your hips fully into his. The barest press of him against your core was enough. Release slammed into you without warning, white-hot and shattering. Your vision burst with stars as your head tipped back, throat bared, offering him more. The rush stole the air from your lungs as your body arched and shook, tears slipping down your cheeks.
He took it all greedily, as if he could consume every tremor and twitch. A growl rumbled deep from within his chest, vibrating through you as he held you tight, moaning against your skin while you fell apart in his arms. It was too much, far too much and yet, not nearly enough.
You hadnât even drawn a full breath before he flipped you, his mouth still fastened to your neck as he pinned you to the mattress. His weight pressed you into the sheets, suffocating in the sweetest way. Every drag of his chest against your taut nipples turned you into a further whining and arching mess.
Your nails carved into the hard muscle of his back, clinging for an anchor as his tongue lavished your hammering pulse. His hands roaming feverishlyâtracing the curve of your hip, the arch of your spine, splaying wide as though trying to claim every inch of you. And ohâhow you let him.
Your legs locked around his waist, ankles straining against the breadth of muscle. You came down from your high just enough for the force of it all to crash into you like a tidal wave. Shock and pleasure blurred until you couldnât tell where one ended and the other began. For the first time, you realized how utterly unprepared you had been for this.
The jut of his hips, the desperate sound torn from his throat, dragged you under again. Heat coiled low, slower this time as it wound through your veins until it pooled heavy in your belly. You could feel it building so cosmically; a part of you begged for mercy while the rest of you ached for ruin. All it took was one cruel roll of his hips paired with the drag of his tongue, and you shattered.
Your voice broke on his name, spilling from your lips again and again until it frayed. The sound of it on your tongue seemed to undo him completely; he keened against your skin, one large hand clamping around the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as he came apart beneath you. You felt his cock twitch through the barrier of clothes, and just like the first two, that was all it took for the shock of a third orgasm to tear through you, slamming into the second until there was nothing left but a pleasure unlike anything youâve ever known.
You were barely conscious by the time he released from your neck. His breaths came ragged against your skin, hot in the crook of your shoulder, while you struggled to catch your bearings. The room filled with the sound of your shared, staggering pants.
His nose dragged along your jaw until his eyes found yours. There was almost no blue left under his half-lidded gazeâhis pupils had swallowed it whole, dark and endless.
The bronze in his skin had returned tenfold, a sheen of sweat making him look as if he were glowing. Your gaze dipped to his mouthâlips parted, stained crimson. Your blood. The sight of his fangs, still glistening, nearly had you coming a fourth time. He was so beautiful.
His hazy, drunken gaze flicked to the punctures at your throat, his brows furrowing as if waking from a dream. His lips parted like he wanted to apologize but all that came out was your name. It was pitiful, raw, and yet somehow the sexiest thing youâd ever heard.
Something inside you cracked. Maybe it was years of want, buried so deep youâd convinced yourself it wasnât there. Maybe it was the wild, unnatural heat still burning through your blood, fraying your restraint. Whatever it was, it broke you wide open, leaving you desperate and shaking as you dragged his mouth to yours.
His lips crashed against yours like heâd been waiting just as long. He made a low, helpless sound into your mouth, his tongue brushing yours in a way that stole every coherent thought. Youâd pictured kissing him many times before, but you could have never imagined this. It was messy, urgent, tinged with the metallic tang of your own blood when you grazed his teeth.
You melted in his grip, and he felt itâbecause in the next breath he had you flipped again, back to straddling his lap. His hands raked down your body, pausing just above the curve of your ass, fingers trembling as if he couldnât decide whether to hold back or give in entirely.
Your lungs screamed for air but you didnât care. You wanted to drown in him. When he tore his mouth away, you nearly cried at the loss. You surged forward to reclaim him, not caring about oxygen or reason, but his lips divertedâcatching your jaw, trailing from your ear until he hovered over the place he had bitten you.
âDick,â you called softly, eyes fluttering shut again.
He answered by swiping his tongue over the wound, as if he couldnât part from the taste of you. It stung, but you welcomed it, tilting your head to bare more. You didnât want this to end, not when it had taken you years to get here.
âFuck,â he rasps, tipping his head to rest against your breasts, ear pressed to the wild song of your heart. âI didnât think it would feel like that,â he admits, dazed.
You slide your arms up his torso, looping them around his shoulders. One hand buries in his hair, holding him to your chest, your thumb brushing the shell of his ear.
âWhat do you mean feel like that?â you ask, brows knitting. He hadnât exactly warned you about the multiple orgasms. Sure, heâd compared it to sex, but that had beenâwell, better than any sex youâd ever had. Still⌠heâd done this before, right? With people who werenât you. Did it feel wrong with you? Did your blood taste off? Like dirty socks? Or rotten pennies? Oh godâ
âHey, heyââ he cut in quickly, lifting his head the instant he felt your pulse stutter. He caught your hand before it could slip from his face, threading his fingers through yours and pressing your joined hands hard against his chest. His pupils were still unnaturally blown, his hair a total wreck from your fingersâsomehow making the earnestness in his expression even softer.
âIt wasnât bad,â he said, voice low but firm. âNot even close. It was⌠the opposite of bad. It wasââ he huffed out a breath, half-laughing at himself, ââit was incredible. I just⌠wasnât ready for it. Clearly.â His chin tipped down toward his sweats, a crooked, sheepish grin tugging at his mouth. âThatâs⌠uh⌠never happened before.â
You blinked at him.
âYou mean with Babs⌠you neverâ?â The words tumbled out, clumsy, half-mumbled, heat crawling up your neck.
He shook his head quickly, color blooming high across his tan skin.
âAnd did she everâŚ?â You couldnât even finish the question, but he saves you from having to elaborate with another shake of his head.
Oh. Fuck.
The clarity slammed into you like a freight train. You had just come three times in your best friendâs lapâand he had too. Fully clothed. While drinking your blood.
Suddenly you were excruciatingly aware of your body: the ache burning at your neck where his teeth had been, the low throb still coiled in your belly, the already hardening line of his cock pressing against the thin, soaked barrier of your underwear and shorts.
As if he could read your mind again, his grip on your hand goes slack. You felt him shift beneath you, an awkward attempt to make space in a place where none existed.
He cleared his throat, voice fragile. âDo you⌠do you regret it?â
You swallowed hard, shaking your head. âNo, Dick. I donât regret it⌠Iââ The words jammed up in your throat. You forced another breath out. âDo you?â you asked instead, eyes locking on his despite the heat still creeping up your cheeks.
âGod,â he laughed, breathless. It was so raw it bordered on bitter. âNo. I donât. Dove, I really donât.â
His gaze searched your face, calculating your reaction before his eyes fall back to your hands, fingers tightening around yours once more.
âI think I need to tell you Iâm in love with you.â
Your mouth parted as his eyes flicker back up to yours. It felt as though all the air was just sucked from room as the silence cut in deep.
He kept talking before you could even draw a breath. âIâm sorry, I just⌠Iâ we can still be friends. Nothing will ever change that, even this. E-everything can go back to the way it wasâŚâ He was babbling now, and you just stared at him, a lump forming in your throat. âBut I feltâwell, I feel like it wouldnât be in good conscience to not tell you. I would never want to take advantage of you, I just didnât think this was going to happen, and if I did, I wouldâve told you first, but Iâoh God, donât cry, sweetheart. Iâm so sorââ
You cut him off, slamming your lips into his. This kiss was slower than the first, deeper, your mouths moving in sync as tears slipped down your face. Your mind felt clearer now; only one thought ran through it: you loved him, and he loved you back.
You pulled awayâslowly, torturouslyâjust as the heat between you started to rise, resting your forehead against his. His breath was warm against your lips.
âWhy didnât we do this sooner?â he asked, a crooked, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth.
You laughed and shoved him further into the pillows. He went easily, chuckling, then retaliated by pinching your sides. You squealed, lurching forward, swatting at his hands.
âHm, I wonder whyâŚâ you teased, leaning down to nip at his ear. âMaybe we should do it again to make up for lost time.â Your grin widened when you felt the shiver run through him.
âItâs too soon, you fiend,â he laughed, mock-scolding. âWhat was it⌠three? Three orgasms and youâre already asking for more? If I didnât know any better Iâd think youâre the one with the bloodlust.â
âI hate you,â you whined, hiding your face in his neck.
âNo you donât,â he said immediately, smirk dripping off his voice.
âYouâre right,â you murmured, âI donât. In fact, itâs quite the opposite.â
âReally? Tell me more,â he said, wiggling his brows. The motion was so classically him you couldnât help but giggle.
You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his, eyes flicking briefly to his mouth before meeting those blue eyes again. âIâm in love with you too, Richard Grayson.â
Jason Todd loves to put his fingers in your mouth.
The first time he did it, you were lying in bed side by side, bodies slick with sweat, chests still heaving as you basked in the warm aftermath of an intense fuck.
You turned to find his mismatched eyes already on youâsoft, almost reverent, brimming with something painfully tender. He reached over to smooth your damp hair from your face, fingertips tracing through the strands until his hand took an unexpected detour toward your parted lips.
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip once, slow and deliberate, before pressing past it. You watched as that lovesick haze in his eyes darkenedâadoration melting into something hungry and wolfishâas he hooked his thumb gently behind your teeth.
Curious, you dragged your tongue over the pad of his thumb, tasting salt and skin. His eyes went wide, pupils blown, breath catching like heâd forgotten how to use it. You didnât entirely understand what was happening, only that the fire low in your belly sparked to life again.
And when he murmured, âYou were such a good girl for me. Think you can go again?â
In that rough, deep voice of his...you knew you were done for.
Little did you know that one simple gesture would turn into a full blown addiction for Jason.
Mid makeout session? Fingers in your mouth. Just finished you off three times with his fingers alone? Oh they were ending up in your mouth, forcing you to suck your mess off his digits until the pads of his fingers were pale & wrinkled. (This was your personal favorite because you got to watch the way his wide, hungry eyes followed every sweep of your tongue and the hollows of your cheeks with a predatory intensity, like an animal studying its prey.)Even when he was absolutely obliterating you from behind, he would somehow manage to reach around your body, that too-big hand of his cupping your jaw so his fingers could hook the inside of your cheek.
Moral of the story Jason Todd is a nasty freaky slut & you literally eat it up.
A/N
hi pumpkins! a little blurb for you with our favorite lover boy (he is a lover boy i will take no criticism on that thank yewww) sorry i've been a little inactive as of late i'm kind of stuck on a couple different versions of bite me part II but i'll get there eventually but for now probably just enjoy a couple more small blurbs like this from me! much love - elle ૮â ´ ęł `âá
He loves proudly sporting the little mark you leave on his cheek while youâre out and aboutâŚwell, more like his jaw, because thatâs as high as you can reach on your tiptoes when heâs standing.
*MDNI 18+*
He loves it when you give him absentminded kisses in public, little things that feel like a quiet hello or a reminder that youâre still right there with himâeven when youâve been beside him the whole time. You press them anywhere you can reach in the momentâhis hands, his wrists, his biceps, the dip of his collarbone, the side of his neck.
But he loves them just a little more when they leave a pink impression behind.
Like the time the two of you were wandering through a farmerâs market and you convinced him to lean down and smell a candle. With his stupidly irresistible face finally at your level, you pressed a quick kiss to the side of his noseâcompletely forgetting you were wearing lipstick.
You moved to wipe the mark away with your sleeve, but he caught your wrist before you could. Those gorgeous mismatched eyes gleamed, boyish and pleased, as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss of his own to the exact same spot on your face.
He wore the impression of your lipsâand maybe you imagined itâbut he stood a little taller for the rest of the afternoon.
He never wipes the kisses off.
Even after the two of you sneak away from your friends at dinner to make out in the bathroom, leaving an entire mess of lipstick across both your faces. Youâll clean yourself up in the mirror, reapplying with a few quick, practiced swipes before turning a damp paper towel toward himâbut he just bats your hand away.
Next thing you know heâs tugging you out of the bathroom and back to the table, your fingers laced together. Youâre blushing furiously, like you havenât done this little routine before, while Jason drops back into his seat with a lazy smirk, looking around the table like heâs daring someone to say something.
To him, itâs a declaration. A quiet but very visible one.
He wants everyone to know itâs you, and only you, who leaves marks like that on him. And he revels in that shit, because it makes him all the more yours. Jason Todd is nothing if not completely and hopelessly devoted to you.
And as much as he loves wearing the imprint in publicâstrutting around like a hockey player doing a victory lap with the Stanley Cupâhe might love it just as much, if not more, when itâs only the two of you there to see it.
The first timeâand, quite frankly, the moment that fueled this entire obsessionâhappened completely by accident.
Youâd been wearing the boldest lipstick you owned: a deep, intense burgundy to match the dress you wore to one of your friendâs weddings. Jason, attending as your plus-one, had been forced into a sleek all-black tuxedo via the dress code.
He looked devastating.
Naturallyâyou had spent almost the entirety of the evening drooling at the thought of his heavy, leaking cock on your tongue.
And naturallyâit ended up being the blowjob of a lifetime.
He never stood a fucking chance at lasting more than a minute with a.) how starved you were for him all cleaned up like that, and b.) that fucking lipstick.
And the sight of the aftermath? Yeah, that alone nearly made him blow a second load on the spot.
His fist was tangled in your hair like it was the last thing tethering him to the earth as he tilted your head back, needing a long, hard look at your puffy, almost lipstick-free lips, committing every detail to memory. Most of the color had smeared across his groin, mixing with spit and cum to form a chaotic, beautiful mosaicâthe kind that would star in every wet dream heâd have from that day until the day he died.
Ohhhh and the individual prints littered over his pelvis and thighs⌠he was in complete and utter ruins.
It was the first (and probably the last) time he ever asked for you to take a picture of his own dick.
Needless to say, Lipstick Sex⢠returned many times afterwardâdifferent places, different outfits, same catastrophic results for Jaybird.
A/N: hi angels! i originally started this as a blurb but then i hit the 2k mark & decided to stop & redo the blurb lol.... so matching fic coming soon ig?
